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

still can control the pathways into her midst. Andr is one of them. Trust that she has yet to steer you astray. Andr will be back, of that I’m certain.”

None could answer the deluge of questions that poured forth. Those who attempted worked under the guise of hypotheses and feelings. The sides, who had been pitted against each other, now blended further as the new debate churned their opinions.

Though it was some time, the inevitable return to the original topic at hand asserted itself over the gathering. The uncertainty prevailed as the discussions revolved around the fates of the incapacitated Lei Guard now under supervision.

One side begged for mercy.

The other demanded justice.

Both opinions were flavored by biases. Some ingrained over a lifetime.

Captain Le’Dral again found himself as the intermediary. His was the voice of the moderator. The focal point where all the attention, the angst, the fear was focused. His placating hands did little to swell the tides of impassioned pleas that crashed over him.

“They are in need of our help.”

“They can be saved.”

“They are a lost cause.”

For every argument, a counter, just as forceful.

“These were our brothers. Our sisters. We’ve languished under the same oppression together, for a large portion of our lives.” It was Sarial’s voice that broke over the crowd. “I saw it in the face of Elias. There is still good inside him. There is still hope they can be healed.”

There were murmurs of assent from the group. Most were issued from the mouths of the tributes. Few guards seemed to agree with the sentiment.

“They’ve been poisoned and corrupted past the point of redemption,” came the retort from within the crowd. Guards amongst the masses nodded their heads in pained, yet silent understanding. “They are not the same as the ones you loved before. The memories of those lives are lost beneath the circumstances of their conditioning. They are butchers, though they are likely tortured, nonetheless. It would be out of compassion that we end their lives.”

The counterstatements hung over the air, clouding the clearing with a gravity of doubt. All felt the weight as the severity of the impending decision loomed.

“Whether there’s good inside them or not, likely none can still say.” The voice was ragged and airy yet commanded an authority and a power that momentarily silenced the argument.

Cavlin, with the assistance of a crutch, ambled his way into the crowd. Even in the dim light of the clearing, the guard’s face was strikingly pale. His skin shone with a dull alabaster that served to accentuate the litany of scars and bruises that covered his body.

Bones protruded moderately from beneath the skin that was pulled taut across his face. The soldier’s torso was covered only in a thick wrapping of bandages. Small stains of red blotted through clean covering in several locations. He stopped at Le’Dral’s side, leaning heavily on his makeshift crutch.

“There is logic among both arguments,” Cavlin acknowledged. “Through no fault of their own, they’ve been cursed from birth and condemned thereafter. It will be the tributes who continue paying the ultimate price for sins that have been wholly and undoubtedly out of their control.”

There was genuine empathy in his eyes as he regarded the tributes around him. He winced as he twisted his torso sluggishly to view more of those assembled.

“There are just shy of fifty souls inside that chamber.” Cavlin waved an errant hand behind him toward the opening of the tree. “They deserve compassion. Yet the devastating power they represent cannot be overlooked. The skill of but one should they awake would be challenging. A concerted attack by even a few would all but seal our doom. Even with the assistance of our phrenic allies. The choices at hand are limited, and none are pleasant.”

There were quiet murmurs that rippled through the crowd like waves across a pool.

“Their lives have been bleak.” Sarial’s voice was pained, though the intensity was dwarfed by the torture written across her face. Fresh lines of tears ran down her cheeks. “That they’ll be so close yet denied the chance to take a breath of fresh air as a freed man or woman is an especially cruel twist of fate.”

A momentary racking sob rolled through her frame. Zed pushed his way to the crowd to her side.

“Freedom, if even for a moment, is priceless.” Her voice was a ragged whisper between sobs. “I’m blinded, for I don’t see another choice.”

Her reasoning was interrupted by a gentle rattle of leaves from the forest’s edge. A mild breeze pushed through the crowd as the foliage swirled as it parted. Andr appeared through the narrow opening. A wide grin split the rigid features of his face.

“The outcome may be dramatic,” he said. “Yet there is another way.”

Chapter 12

Ryl stalked from the interior chamber under the great tree. His head dipped slightly as he passed beneath the massive roots that rose to form the treen ceiling of the room. He savored the fresh air that rushed into his nostrils, breathing deeply to rid the pervasive stench that lingered.

The foul aroma from the healing brew of the blighted rose clung to his senses. He shuddered as memories of the potent, horrid taste asserted itself into his mind. They manifested with a tangible force that sent chills rolling down his spine. Ryl paced toward the center of the massive clearing. The acrid scent of the controlled fire only provided a temporary relief from the necessary evil that was the leaves’ purpose.

Though hundreds now inhabited the hidden clearing, the space was eerily still. Few moved throughout the opening. Sentries had been posted before the solitary entrance of each of the six great trees. Others patrolled the fringes of the forest. The majority were consumed with tending for the tributes or the injured.

Vox and Ramm stood like statues, hoods drawn, near the remnants of the fire. A sudden rush of emotion, projected from one of the pair, bid him approach.

There was urgency in the anxious emotion.

There was worry.

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