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

behind, the road was still. Ominously so. Traffic upon the solitary main road that bisected The Stocks was light during for all but a few scattered annual occasions. The migration of the fish that churned the waters of Stillwater Lake brought an uncommon bevy of activity. Its plentiful bounty was a valued resource to the mouths of the guards as well as local citizens throughout the region surrounding Cadsae Proper. At the conclusion of every cycle, carts pulled by teams of heavy horses transported the perishable contents of the storehouses at Tabenville and the other small work camps back to the city that commanded the goods.

Today, nothing moved in either direction along the road. To their east, the calming splash and gurgle of the sluggish waters lapping on the banks was the highlight of the activity in that direction. To the west, the fields of wild grasses swayed in the gentle breeze that blew steadily from the south. Though they were still many miles away from the solitary exit to The Stocks, the initial tang of the briny seawater tickled his senses.

Following the cautious survey, he turned his attention to the tribute on horseback at his side. Aelin was still beaming from the excitement of being on horseback. Ryl had been surprised at the relative ease of controlling the beast at his side. At the onset, his fear was that the mount carrying the unsteady rider would test the limits of its newfound independence, even with Ryl’s firm hold on the lead rope. Fortunately, a steady stream of projected emotions—calm and unwavering confidence—held the trained mount in check.

Ryl was relieved beyond words that Aelin had survived his foolhardy assault on the forces of the kingdom. How the boy hadn’t been maimed beyond recognition was a feat he would likely never understand. Through sheer stubborn will and strength beyond comprehension, the young tribute had given a more than adequate showing for himself.

Aelin had charged into the fray, equipped with nothing more than a stick, strength, and a burning vengeance. The familiar pit, the desperate sinking in Ryl’s stomach, opened as his thoughts of the young tribute’s upbringing triggered the memories buried deep within.

Ryl’s family. Their ultimate betrayal. The agony was still raw though nearly a decade had passed since that fateful morning. Nothing he’d tried, not even the awakening, not even the collective memories of generations, could rid him of the pain. It was ingrained into his every fiber of his being, just as the sun was to the daytime sky. Whether camouflaged behind clouds or storm, hidden by roofs of foliage of woods, he knew it was still there. Though absent from his eyes, it still burned nonetheless. Such was the pain of his betrayal.

The agitation bubbled up from his stomach.

“What were you thinking following me?” Ryl snapped at Aelin. Both were caught off guard by the harshness of his tone. The young boy’s eyes went wide. The joy evaporated as quickly as light dissipated from an extinguished flame. Sadness, anger, fear—a dangerous mixture of emotions replaced the glimmer in his look. His gaze fell, defeated, to the horse’s mane still wrapped tightly around his fingers. His mount cocked its head slightly. Its wide eye cast an uncomfortable look as if chiding him for his tone.

Ryl knew he’d gone too far. Knew he’d spoken too harshly. He forced down the agitation at his own internal turmoil, calming his temper with a steady breath.

“You’re lucky not to have been killed.” He spoke gently. He accented his words with a subtle feeling of warmth. The expression on the face that looked up at him was again changed. The youngster’s emotions were as wild and untrained as the alexen within his veins. Ryl understood the words before the boy even uttered a sound.

“How do you do that? The feeling?” Aelin gasped, seemingly forgetting the recent chiding altogether. “I know it was you. The sensation was so foreign.”

Ryl smiled, shaking his head slightly at the jovial child at his side.

“You’ll not change the subject that easily, my friend. You’ll find that I can be quite as stubborn as you when I have a mind to do so,” Ryl joked. “You should have stayed with the others. Where I go, I need speed. Those who have Kaep will not likely give her up without a fight. I have worries enough for myself, without watching over you.”

Aelin opened his mouth to retort. Ryl hammered the youngster with a feeling of hesitance. His mouth slowly shut as his eyes widened.

“There will be time to answer your questions later. Now, I need you to listen and listen well,” Ryl ordered. The tone of his voice, though still pleasant, was firm and commanding. “I can’t risk sending you back to the Erlyn. The army is pacified for the moment, yet I wouldn’t doubt if a contingent doesn’t test their fate tracking the tributes. Those are a lost cause. You alone, even with your strength, would likely fall to their numbers before you ever reached the safety of the woods.”

“I can fight,” Aelin interrupted.

“Please, let me finish,” Ryl snapped. “Hear me out before you speak. I have a lot to say and time is short. I know you can fight. You can throw yourself into battle, relying on nothing but raw emotion and power to guide you. Yet for all your strength, you’re still a boy. Even a small blade in the hands of an average fighter can seal your doom.”

Ryl paused as he tamped down the frustration that continued to boil inside. His eyes and mindsight scanned the terrain around them. In all directions The Stocks was still. Even the pervasive watchful eyes of the mighty palisades that hemmed them in seemed abnormally pacified. He squinted his eyes to the south, focusing on the skyline. The sky above the Sea of Plenty was scattered with thin lines of clouds. Each ran parallel to the next, fading into the distance. The gently churning clouds appeared as if they mirrored the