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

paused a few meters from the edge of the crowd. Scanning the group, he spied Nielix standing a few steps back from the captain. The Vigil was silent, though his eyes darted from person to person as if assessing the threat. Their eyes met for an instant. Andr shook his head as he acknowledged the futility of the current discussions.

With a shrug of his shoulders, he stepped forward, edging closer to the crowd. Putting his fingers to his mouth, he issued a piercing, high-pitched whistle.

“Enough,” the mercenary boomed.

The silence that followed shortly was deafening. The weight of the attention that fell on him was crushing. He became the focal point for their contentious glares as he calmly strode into the gathering.

All eyes followed him as he moved onward. His gaze carried over the group, meeting eyes with as many as possible. Andr felt his heart race for an instant as his vision locked with Cray’s. The look they shared was only a matter of a moment, yet he felt the thrill, the excitement in the connection.

His boy lived. His son’s selfless act, though clumsy and untrained, had likely saved his life. Andr had been fighting a losing battle against Elias. He’d held his own, yet his actions had been permanently on the defensive. It was only a matter of time before he would have been cut down. Whether as the result of a fatal mistake or their poorly matched skill set, his death would have come momentarily.

The pride swelled in him as he steered his path so it would pass beside Cray. Andr clapped his son on the shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze, though he continued moving. With a nod of his head, he mouthed the words, “Thank you,” as he carried on. The truth would need to come to light sooner rather than later. There had been too many close calls over the last few days. He resolved to let the boy know at the next possible opportunity.

Andr stopped as he reached Le’Dral’s side. The mob of tributes and guards had seemed to constrict around the captain. He rotated in place as he surveyed the entirety of the assembled group.

“Look at the faces of those who you have bound before you,” Andr called to the crowd, motioning to the opening of the tree behind him. “Their actions, while abhorrent, were certainly not their own. They, like some of you now, have been blinded by emotion. By hatred.”

“They’re nothing but butchers now,” came the cry from a voice among the crowd to his rear. By the time he’d spun to face the speaker, the spokesman was anonymous.

A distant wave of emotion rolled over him, tickling his senses. Unlike the uncoordinated, unrefined feelings from the tributes or the focused intent of the phrenics, this enveloped him, washing over him from all sides at once. Beginning as a slight tingle, it grew in intensity. Though it continued unrelenting, the sensation wasn’t constant. It seemed to ebb and flow, pulsing stronger and stronger, like the beating of a distant heart.

“I’ve seen the life that these poor souls have to bear after their Harvest,” Andr continued, shrugging off the mounting sensation. If others in the group experienced a similar effect, none gave any outward indication of its presence.

“There is no life but endless pain,” he explained. “Drop by drop they are broken. Drained with sluggish precision of every last speck of the essence that confined you to The Stocks in the first place. Of that which makes you an asset to them. It’s a power that they crave. A power that they fear.”

The throbbing sensation intensified before suddenly shifting its emphasis. It crashed into him, a volume and a voice. It called to him. Andr paused, swinging his head toward the source. His feet moved of their own volition as he was drawn toward the border of the woods behind the edge of the massive tree.

“Nothing will be gained from slaying those who are helpless in your grasps.” The words seemed to pour freely from his mouth, though his attention to the crowd waned. His focus was locked on the woods.

“Don’t fall prey to the same hate that blinded them.” Andr’s words trailed off as he moved through the crowd.

“What are we to do?” The question seemed to resonate from the lips of many. Andr paid them no mind.

The thrum of the call lured him onward.

Dav reached his side as he crossed beyond the outer edge of the gathering. They had parted before him like water around a stone. He moved as though there were none in his path.

“Andr?” Dav asked. The worry was written across his face. Clearly evident in his voice. He placed a hand on Andr’s shoulder. The mercenary never faltered, stepping away as if nothing had happened.

Andr felt as if he were an unwitting spectator within the prison that was his body. The occurrences around him grew increasingly nondescript. Motion blurred into mere colors and shades. Sounds muddled from words into an unintelligible garble of noise. To his ears the commotion sounded like the rustling of leaves in the face of a stiff breeze.

The steady thrum of a pulse resounded. Its distinct beat was loud enough to hear atop the noise. He felt each percussive thump as it rippled through his body.

As he progressed, the motion, the blurring in his peripherals steadily changed. The distorted images blurred further as the remaining details dissolved. The continued shift was disorienting, further confusing his senses. His surroundings appeared to move with a dizzying speed while at the same time freezing with the complete absence of motion. He found his mind was at a loss to comprehend.

Ahead, a solitary image resolved.

A single tree took shape from the edge of the Erlyn. The arboreal target was nondescript, ordinary, neither overly large nor undersized. He’d patrolled the boundaries of the circle prior to this moment. Heightened by a lifetime under duress, Andr considered his attention to the small, seemingly trivial details careful. Nothing had stood