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

both Ryl and Kaep. Neither showed any signs of physical damage, yet they were unable to be roused from their unconscious state. Their care and watch were left to Nielix and Dav. With the assistance of several tributes, they were carefully moved to the nearest shelter, the stable, while preparations to vacate Tabenville commenced.

With Ryl unavailable, Andr found himself in the uncomfortable position as the liaison for the diverse groups that now comprised their ragtag community. The phrenics communicated directly with him. The Vigil, under instruction from the council, followed his lead. His name and subsequent exploits were well known among the guards. As Ryl’s companion and savior, his voice was trusted amongst the tributes.

The sun had risen, cresting above the trees to the east. The long shadows stretched out, hiding a good portion of the clearing that was Tabenville in deep shadows. The activity had been constant as they rushed to vacate the small settlement. Knowing the truth behind the origins of the Lei Guards whose bodies lay unmoving, yet still clinging to life, the decision was made to envelop them into the fold of their ragtag group.

Andr stood motionless along the road just past the stables. His eyes moved slowly from side to side as he surveyed the remnants of the tense battle that had rolled across the recently harvested earth. The dark soil was stained with patches of blood. Their passage had been cleared for their retreat. The bodies of the soldiers who’d come for their lives had been dragged from the road, yet lay crumpled in the dirt.

A strange sensation washed over Andr. He’d grown accustomed to the influx of projected emotions from the phrenics. The call of the woods since she had granted him her boon had been almost constant. She pleaded for them to come. She demanded urgency.

Yet this call was something different. It was a desire that bubbled up from within. Its potency, likely a result of an event that had altered the direction of his noble yet foolish course. The simple act of aiding Ryl that morning on the dusty road from Tabenville had set in motion the events that would rewrite the history of a kingdom. It had carried him to the end of the world and back.

The image of Ryl from that day was clear in his mind. The boy he looked on was barely older than a child. Fragile, broken and scared. Yet still, there was something magnetic that had drawn him to the boy. It had been a turning point in his troubled life.

Andr scanned the activity in the village. It wasn’t long before his eyes fell on the object of his search.

Cray.

The young man stood at the head of a group of tributes toward the edge of the square. His actions spoke of coordination as they assisted in the preparations for the movement. As if looking upon him for the first time in ages, Andr marveled at how much he’d grown. He was tall and slender, yet muscular from the cycles of hard labor. His shaggy hair jostled in the breeze. A sword was tucked carefully into his belt.

Gone was the desperate look that had been permanently etched onto his face. Onto the face of all the tributes. Andr watched as Cray’s eyes moved across the activity that overtook the sleepy settlement, observing with calculated care. His expression was still tinged with anxiety, as their future, their safety was still tenuous, hanging precariously in the balance. Underneath the rough exterior, he saw something that had been largely lost to The Stocks since its inception.

Hope.

Andr could see it in Cray. He could see it in his posture: his shoulders rolled back, his head held high. He exuded an unmistakable air of confidence. A similar attitude played out across many of the tributes in the square. They had proven to be a resilient lot. Andr was keenly aware of the power that dwelled within each of them.

For the first time, they did too.

The tiny morsel of information was enough to enact a potent change in the downtrodden tributes.

They had seen firsthand what Ryl, what the phrenics could do. That they possessed even a sliver of that power, even in its raw, unfiltered form, was uplifting. None knew what skills were veiled behind the poison that obscured the alexen in their veins. Regardless, they represented a force that would be unstoppable should they be granted the reprieve to awaken the talents.

Time, however, was not a luxury that was on their side.

Le’Dral cleared his throat, warning Andr of his approach as he neared. From the cramped square, the procession began rumbling toward the opening of the woods. The tributes marched along with the wagons now loaded to capacity with the wounded and ailing. A little over half of the guards marched in order, escorting them forward. The remainder of the fighting force of the gathering would remain alert and on guard, keeping a careful eye on the securely bound Lei Guard.

“The Erlyn awaits, then?” the captain offered as he stopped alongside Andr. His eyes covered the expanse of the forest’s edge. They filled with wonder as he gazed upon her not as merely a collection of trees, but a being, sentient and wise. The approach of the phrenics was stealthy, as if they moved without sound. The soft crunch of loose dirt underfoot was muffled by the squeaking of the wagons’ wheels.

“Do you know the pathway into her depths?” Le’Dral inquired. Though he likely meant it not, the slight flavor of doubt clouded his words. Uncertainty roiled in Andr’s gut at the unintended challenge.

Did he possess the strength to wrest control over the woods? Looking at the trees and knots of brush and bramble before him, he felt miniscule.

Insignificant.

Powerless.

Andr felt as if the weight of the branches would crush him where he stood.

“We’ll soon find out.” Andr sighed, though his eyes remained trained on the forest.

Vox arrived at his opposite side. Ramm fell in line a step after. Andr felt a