The Defiance of Vim (Catalyst Book 4), C.J. Aaron [best novel books to read .TXT] 📗

He could feel the darkness that infested his arm. The vicious whisper of hatred, agony, of wanton destruction and death surged into his mind. They struck with a ferocity he’d not expected.

As it sought for control of his mind, a hint of emotion rippled through his opposite arm. He cast a curious glance down at the location, startled to see the alteration of the vine tattoo. A handprint remained where Kaep’s hand had rested on his arm. Blended into the vines and leaves that wrapped around his skin, it fit perfectly into the design as if it had been purposefully created with it in mind.

Ryl rubbed his left hand over the fresh marking. A jolt of energy greeted his touch. A whisper of emotion registered.

It was hope.

He felt the spark race up his arm. It crossed his chest, exploding through his body when it reached his heart. The foreign cries of hatred vanished. The lingering sense of warmth remained for a moment, faint yet recognizable.

It was her aura he recognized.

It was Kaep.

Ryl turned his eyes to the courtyard before him. The Lei Guard remained still where they had fallen. Their black cloaks spread out around them, creating a sea of darkness that coated the ground. Behind their ranks, the army of the Horde remained.

They stood frozen in place. Their focus was singular. They stared at Ryl with cautious attentiveness, as a servant watches their master. As he stepped forward, their steadfast line faltered. With every step they retreated further.

Ryl stopped at the body of the first Lei Guard he reached. He knelt along its side, watching carefully for a moment. The steady rise and fall of its chest was visible. The breaths were gentle as if in the grips of a deep slumber. He slowly peeled back the black hood that covered its eyes.

The face that greeted him was peaceful. He looked upon the figure of a woman. Though older than he, her face was familiar. He felt the hint of recognition, though he had likely never seen her before. The snarl of hatred had vanished from her lips. Ryl watched as her eyelids batted as the dreams raged through her dreaming mind.

Ryl scanned the bodies nearby, searching for one in particular. Still dressed in the ill-fitting borrowed clothing, Elias stood out from the Lei Guard around him. He rushed to his friend’s side, his cautious optimism fading as he closed in on his still form.

Elias lay facedown on the stone. His clothes were in tatters. Clean slashes tore through the cloth, biting deep into the skin below. Blood soaked the fabric, matting it to his skin. He knelt at his friend’s side, gently rolling his limp body over. There was no motion to his chest. Ryl knew he was no more.

The tears welled in his eyes as he viewed Elias’s lifeless form. The agony of losing his friend to the Harvest had never abated. The elation as they had been reunited was marred by the sting of betrayal and his failure. The grief was overpowering. Tears streamed down his face, splashing to the ground at his feet. There they mixed with the pool of crimson that soaked the ground.

Though life no longer existed in his body, Elias’s face presented a haunting reminder of the young man Ryl considered a brother. The mischievous grin that had been so natural, seemingly ever present, once again graced his face.

Ryl closed his eyes, temporarily stopping the tears that flowed. He bowed his head, resting his hand gently on his friend’s forehead. He inhaled a deep, steadying breath.

“Thank you, my friend. My brother,” he whispered between sobs.

In the end, it had been Elias’s action that had saved them all. One final, potent stunt before the gates that had come to define their lives.

From behind him, there was a low rumble as the drawbar slid back from the massive door. The hinges creaked in protest. The sound of rapid footsteps grew as the curious poured from the gate.

A wet gurgling sound issued from the ground near the king’s carriage. Ryl moved cautiously toward the source. Lying on his back, slightly propped up against the unconscious body of a Lei Guard, Leiroth gasped for breath. The black hood had been blown back, revealing a face, ancient and racked with pain. He coughed a single wet cough as Ryl approached. A splatter of blood spewed from his mouth, the sticky remnants staining his chin.

Blood pumped steadily from the gaping wound in his chest. His hands, coated in crimson mixed with streaks of black, pressed against the weeping hole in his body. His lifeblood streamed through the gaps between his fingers. Around him, a swelling pool of deep red swirled with stains of black.

Ryl could feel none of the awe-inspiring power that had oozed from his body. No emotion pumped from his core, though his expression was telling. His eyes screamed with pain.

With fear.

With desperation.

As Leiroth blinked, Ryl watched his eyes rack as they shifted focus. His blood-soaked right hand reached up from the gash in his chest. The black cloak on his arm slid down, revealing the bloodstained evidence of complex tattoos below. Unstoppered, the blood rushed from his chest like a river.

“A transference,” Leiroth gasped through gargled breaths. Blood splattered from his mouth. Dark crimson stained with streaks of black.

Ryl looked down on the ancient phrenic before him. He had been awakened once. Craving power that was never his to bear, he’d turned against his own. Ages of torture, death and corruption followed his actions. Ryl listened for the alexen inside.

There was nothing but chilling silence.

Ages of torture and death rested on his head. Forgiveness would not be granted. They had accepted what would become.

“Your sins die with you, Leiroth,” Ryl whispered. “Your tainted legacy ends today.”

The blade in his right hand burst to light in a wash of green fire. With a single slash, the weapon severed Leiroth’s hand.

There would be no transference of power.

The shock on Leiroth’s face blanched to