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

later, Andr burst through the foliage into the clearing. His clothes were soaked to the waist, his sword drawn, ready for action. It only took a cursory glance to disarm the mercenary. His sword slid quietly into its scabbard. He nodded subtly; a small knowing smile tugged up on his lips as he came to a stop at the edge of the woods.

Turning back to the father and child, Ryl was pleased to see the man had lowered his blade, if only slightly. The calm had worked to steady his hand as well as abating the look of terror on his face. The man now viewed them with guarded curiosity.

“Who are you?” the man asked. Though he projected his confidence admirably, his voice wavered from the uncontrollable emotion. He had been moments away from a merciless death; now he was face to face with his savior. A force that defied explanation.

“Fear not, we are friends,” Ryl said softly.

The child at his side removed her hands from her face. Her large, brilliantly blue eyes focused directly at him yet her gaze seemed to pass through him. There was an awkward mistiness that seemed to swirl in their depths. She cocked her head slightly as if reading him. After a moment, a meager onset of a smile played across her face, quickly blossoming into a full grin.

“Father,” she whispered. “I can see him.”

Chapter 12

The father looked down at his child for an instant. An emotional look of astonishment flashed across his face. His eyes followed the pointed stare of his daughter, returning his wary gaze to Ryl and Andr.

“Who are you?” the father repeated. This time his voice carried more force.

“We are friends,” Ryl calmly reiterated. “My name is Ryl. The man behind me is Andr. We've been searching for you since we ran into the hunters on the road yesterday.”

The father flinched involuntarily at the statement, his eyes darting rapidly around the clearing. They paused for an instant as they crossed the bodies of the murderers that had been tracking them. Ryl watched as a sliver of the weight from the ever-present chase evaporated from the man's weary shoulders.

How long had they suffered on the run? How many close calls had they survived?

“What do you want from us?” the father breathed. He still held the wavering blade in his hand, though the point had fallen closer to the ground.

“We came here to help you, we seek nothing other than your safety,” Ryl professed calmly.

The father eyed them suspiciously. In truth, Ryl couldn't blame him. What horrors had they endured since the results of her testing were brought to light? The child separated herself from her father's side taking a step forward toward Ryl. Her father reached to pull her in, but she moved subtly, yet with a speed that defied the norm. She easily avoided his protective grasp.

“Father, he speaks the truth,” she said confidently as she continued forward. Her father opened his mouth to retort, but she cut him off before the words could escape his lips.

“His words were true,” she said softly. Her small voice had a calming tonality. “There was no deception.”

Ryl sank down to a knee resting both arms across his leg as she approached. His head was at eye level; she stepped closer without the hint of fear. Her father paced behind, his blade lowered but still in hand.

The child's eyes remained focused on Ryl. The intensity of her visual investigation was disconcerting. Her eyes seemed to bore through him as if she was reading him, peering into the very depths of his soul. The mist in her eyes appeared to shift slightly, as if it moved with the breeze.

Ryl looked into her eyes. The realization struck him with startling clarity. He looked up sympathetically at her father.

“She's blind, isn't she?” He asked quietly.

The child's father nodded his head silently, moisture uncontrollably welling in the corners of his eyes.

The smile on the face of the child grew wider at the statement.

“I have been blind all my life and yet I can see you,” she remarked joyously. “Your body shines like the sun. What are you?”

It was Ryl’s turn to smile. He was powerless to fight the grin that crept across his face.

With slow, deliberate motion he raised his hands, pulling back the hoods that covered his face. He turned his head slightly to the left so that the right side of his neck was clearly visible.

The father sucked in an audible breath.

“For cycles I was known as nothing but a tribute,” he said. “Like you.”

She reached out her hand, touching the side of his face. She moved her fingers slowly downward across his cheek to his neck, gasping aloud when her fingers reached the brand under his ear. She rapidly withdrew her hand as if the skin had burned her.

“Your skin feels cool. It feels unnatural,” she stated as if she was reading him through the touch of her fingers. Since he'd been granted the woodskin, the boon of the Erlyn Woods, his skin had been imbued with an inherent toughness, and had felt colder to the touch.

Her fingers gently found the brand again, tracing the outline of the numbers. Her eyes remained trained on his face the entire time.

“One. Three. Five. One,” she whispered curiously as she traced the raised scars of his brand. “1351. That's this cycle, isn't it, father?”

“Aye, Faya, it is,” her father answered. “How is this possible?”

The point of his small blade had lowered, now aimed harmlessly at the ground.

“That is a long tale. One for another time I'm afraid,” Ryl announced. “Are either of you hurt?”

“No, thankfully,” the father said appreciatively. “Not sure that would have been the case if you hadn't shown up when you did. My name's Rolan.”

“And I'm Faya,” she announced holding her right hand out in front of her. Ryl reached out, shaking the small hand of the young woman.

“Faya. That's a very pretty name,” Ryl said cheerfully. “I'm Ryl, and behind