Ghosts of the Erlyn (Catalyst Book 3), C.J. Aaron [book recommendations .TXT] 📗

not your wares I care about,” the rider said flashing a wicked smile. His anger, at least for the moment seemed temporarily satiated. “Your wares are no concern to us. You see, it is not a ‘what’ we are seeking but a ‘who’ we are seeking.”

The truth dawned on Ryl with an unimaginable weight. The suspicions he’d harbored were confirmed in an instant. These were no simple mercenaries that stood before him but something altogether viler.

Hunters.

Standing before him were the hunters of children. The seekers of wayward tributes and the butchers of families.

“Now, I’ll see your wares whether you choose to comply, or not,” the rider scoffed. “Know that your failure to cooperate will likely result in your deaths. Deaths that will be fully sanctioned by the King under the articles of the Ascertaining Decree.”

Aldren gasped at the unveiled threat of hostility.

“We seek a man and a young girl,” the man stated plainly with no regard for the words that spewed from his mouth. He paced slowly along the line of his fellow hunters as he continued. “They chose to run when the law commanded them to stay. They are outlaws. They were last seen heading north past Milstead. Now I’ll ask again, and if you value your lives, you’ll take care to choose your words wisely. Have you encountered any others in your travels?”

“No, we’ve seen no one,” Aldren gasped.

“The girl would be about this tall,” the rider continued disregarding Aldren’s words in their entirety. He held his left hand out to the side, his palm facing down just above his waist. “Her hair is blonde and curly. Her eyes are an unforgettable shade of blue.”

Ryl felt sickened by the description. The hunter described the child like he’d ask for a piece of fruit at the market.

“The father is tall and of slim build,” he said. “He has tattoos on his right arm. Come to think of it, he stands about your height if I recall.”

The lead hunter stopped at the end of the line of companions. From where he paused, he was less than three meters from Ryl. The point of his sword, extended toward the phrenic's chest, covered nearly a third of that distance.

“Now it’s his eyes I’ve been told that give his true identity away,” the hunter continued. “They’re almost as blue as his tainted offspring.”

Tainted.

In the list of insults and hatred that spewed from the mouth of the hunter, it was that one word that truly pushed Ryl to the point of breaking. They were mercilessly stalking the young girl as a fugitive. Any who assisted in her plight would likely be cut down in the process. The child, like all tributes, was innocent of the burden that had been unknowingly placed upon their shoulders. If the child was a fugitive, then she was not alone.

There was yet another roaming free in the Kingdom of Damaris.

The thought was simultaneously encouraging and revolting. Ryl found his patience was quickly running thin.

He took a deep breath, steadying himself for the actions he assumed to be imminent.

“Show me your face and writ of absolution, now,” the rider ordered.

He glared at Ryl as the moments ticked by. There would be no writ produced. The simple parchment was always required to be carried on your person. The certified document proved that no trace of alexen was present in your blood. The writ had been denied to Ryl the moment his Ascertaining testing results were known.

“Are you deaf, or do you wish to die?” the hunter screamed. “You dare defy the King?”

“You are not the King,” Ryl whispered. His voice was hushed yet the power behind his words struck with a resounding force. “Without authentication your paper is worthless.”

The hunter inhaled a deep breath, the air made a hissing sound as it escaped through the gaps on his clenched teeth. Ryl watched his face flush red as the blood rushed to it. His eyes bulged. He looked wild with anger.

To his side, from inside the wagon, Ryl heard the barely audible quiet creak of a bow string being drawn back. It was the other noise, growing steadily from the north, however, that stopped the hunter in his tracks.

Ryl knew what was approaching.

It was the rider maintaining his position in the farthest west position of the line who reacted first. Ryl saw his eyes grow wide as the realization set in. There was no mistaking the wagon that closed steadily on them from the north.

The black cloaks of the two riding at its head billowed out behind them like ominous shadows in the wind.

Ryl concentrated on the riders before him, sending out a wave of raw emotion. He poured out an intense fear that broke over them like a tidal wave on the shore. Several of the hunters in the line behind took an involuntary step back.

“Joem. It’s the Lei Guard,” the voice came from the rear line. It was shaky, devoid of the slightest shred of confidence.

The lead hunter maintained his glare for a moment longer. He broke off the measured stare as he growled and spat at Ryl's feet.

“Leave them,” he cursed as he backed toward his accomplices who were already making for their horses. “I assure you, the Lei Guard will not be as forgiving as I.”

Joem took a step backward before wheeling about and hastening to their horses that had been allowed to wander after they’d dismounted.

The first of the four riders was approaching the roaming beasts. Ryl let the wind swell around his right arm. He felt the alexen pulling at the air, rapidly drawing the power toward his hand. With a quick flick of his arm, he sent a focused stream of wind into the face of the closest of the waiting horses.

The gust struck the anxious animal in the face. Spooked by the sudden attack, the horse neighed in protest as it reared back on its hind legs. Its front legs kicked wildly. There was a sickening sound of snapping of bone as its hoof