Fulcrum of Light (Catalyst Book 2), C.J. Aaron [e reading malayalam books txt] 📗

Rounding the base of the hill they'd sheltered in, Andr stopped dead in his tracks. He'd grown accustomed to seeing only the jagged mountainous horizon breaking the skyline in the distance. The sight in front of him threatened to bring tears to the eyes of the hardened mercenary.

Looming up from the earth, the wall of the Haven Mountains appeared far closer than ever before. The range spread east and west until it disappeared from view; jagged pinnacles capped with a white cone of snow. How far had they traveled from the shores of the Sea of Prosper?

“Ryl, the mountains are close,” Andr whispered, not expecting a coherent response.

Ryl groaned in reply.

The sight of the mountains so close at hand charged him with a jolt of extra energy. They stumbled forward, watching as the wall of rock inch further into the sky with every passing step.

The day’s progress was a measured success. Ryl walked for only a trivial portion of their total distance. Andr slung Ryl over his shoulder, muscling through each step. Ryl’s unconscious frame was already slender from the lack of resources provided to him within The Stocks. His weight had declined even further since their journey began.

Just before midday they reached a small grove set off to the eastern side of a low rise in the terrain. The cool water from the spring was refreshing; Andr splashed it over his face and hair, wiping off the accumulated dirt and grime. He’d worked up a sweat carrying Ryl throughout the morning.

The travel had been rough on them both. Ryl hadn’t regained consciousness and his frequent convulsions made carrying him an extraordinarily troublesome task. The mercenary’s legs burned by the time he laid Ryl on the ground under the dappled shade of a stunted tree.

Andr stocked up on what little food he could forage. Filling up their water skins he forced Ryl to drink small sips from his. Burning several hours of daylight, the mercenary fashioned a litter with which to drag his unconscious companion.

Searching the small glade, he located a set of similarly sized branches, both easily a head taller than himself. Neither were straight yet would work to accomplish his purpose. Andr lashed them together at one end, using the remains of the salvaged rigging from their ill-fated vessel. The twisted arc of both branches bowed out at the opposite end, creating a rough triangular shape.

Using smaller branches, he added three crossbars at the widest end of the triangle. Andr cannibalized the material from Ryl's pack, making it into long strips. Some he used to lash the remaining branches together, the rest he weaved between the supports creating a crude net.

Andr moved his travois out of the glade before returning to carry Ryl. He deposited his unconscious body gently on the net he’d lashed atop the crisscrossing supports.

“I'll be right back,” Andr informed his companion.

Though the conversation was one-sided, he found himself talking to his unresponsive charge regularly. The dialogue was likely a product of his growing fatigue.

Andr moved with speed to the top of the hill. The ever-present mountains loomed higher into the sky, yet for the first time, he could make out the green tips of trees at their base. Up until now the gently rising terrain had blocked his view of the forest. Ahead of them the land sloped slightly downward revealing the forest.

The sight of the distant trees was uplifting, a welcomed change from the constant reddish hues they’d grown accustomed to during their trek through the Outlands. Andr hurried back to Ryl, his flagging energy temporarily rejuvenated. With the forest now in sight, he was eager to push on.

The trees were tantalizingly close. So too were the mountains. Andr guessed that another day’s travel would find them under the cover of the forest. Another day without sleep, yet once they arrived, what then?

Shrugging his shoulders, mumbling a string of profanities to himself, he lifted the narrow end of the travois, sliding his body underneath it. Bracing the wood against his chest, he pushed his way forward. For the first few paces, the progress was painfully slow. Once they started moving, however, the motion became easier. He frequently rotated from shoulder to shoulder, shifting the pressure and discomfort of the added weight.

Nightfall again found them hunkered down in an empty cave, the travois forming a rudimentary door to the narrow entrance in the rock. Ryl had been unresponsive nearly the entire day. His symptoms seemed to be in a stalemate of sorts; balancing at a worrisome level, though thankfully not deteriorating any further. The rapid decline in Ryl's health had been a shock to Andr. Looking at his near lifeless form brought back uncomfortable memories of the harrowing, breakneck ride from Tabenville to Cadsae after he'd rescued Ryl from the pool.

The early darkness of the evening started out peacefully. The still of the night was unbroken. No shadows meandered in front of his vision. No sounds broke the silence. Andr remained on alert though his head dipped as his body pleaded with him for rest.

The muffled clicking sound from the right drew his attention. As the sound approached rapidly, he ripped his sword from its sheath. Without warning a black shadow streaked by, a few meters from their cave, running at a mind-boggling sprint. The bloodthirsty scream it issued forth as it careened by made him jump in surprise.

The night descended back into silence. Hours passed before the next occurrence. An ear-piercing wail ripped through the silence of the night. The noise was loud enough to sound like it was emanating from an unseen mouth merely inches from the entrance to their cave. Andr waited, sword in hand for the attack.

An attack that never came.

The remainder of the night was a random mixture of screams, wails, grunts and other indescribable sounds. Occasionally the shadows would dart past the opening, at other times they’d remain unseen calling from any number of locations around their precarious shelter.

As the night wore on, Andr