Fulcrum of Light (Catalyst Book 2) by C.J. Aaron (ebook reader that looks like a book .TXT) 📕

terms with the animosity that had been present in Nielix since first they met.

Ryl lost track of time as he thought. His head drooped as sleep pulled heavily on his senses. How long had it been since the first watch had left? Perhaps an hour. To his right, Ryl could see the silhouette of Soldi; a slightly out of place shadow against the base of the dark tree. He could see no sign of Nielix off to his left.

The forest was silent. The singing birds, the rustling of the leaves as the small woodland creatures darted about had long since grown quiet. Even the songs of the insects had grown eerily still.

Deyalou, who’d been pacing the clearing, stopped along Ryl's side, his eyes scanning the forest.

“Seems your friend has fallen asleep on the job,” the phrenic said pointing toward the left. Ryl rose to his feet, stepping forward, peering into the darkness. From his new position, he could clearly see the seated form of their sentry, head hung down resting on his hands.

Ryl shook his head in annoyance.

“If only the quality of his skills extended to that of his character,” Ryl mused. “I still don’t understand why his attitude toward me has been so caustic from the start.”

Deyalou let out a sigh as he kicked at an errant twig on the ground in front of him.

“Nielix hasn’t seen eye to eye with the phrenics for some time now,” he spoke quietly. “I wish I could say that there was a worthy reason. In truth it’s nothing more than petty jealousy.”

Ryl scrunched his eyes together in a confused look.

“You see, our Vigil friend over there has had a thing for Kaep since they were children,” Deyalou confessed. “The innocent childhood crush turned into something of an obsession as they both matured. Kaep has continued to spurn his advances. Rather emphatically, I might add. He’s always been the best among his peers at what he’s done, so he’s grown accustomed to having things his way. He’s taken to blaming this loss on the phrenics.”

“What does that have to do with me?” Ryl questioned.

Deyalou let out a hushed laugh before shrugging his shoulders as he walked toward the sleeping guard. He turned back to face Ryl.

“You’ll learn,” Deyalou said with a smile. “It’s time to send him home to bed. It was my watch next anyway.”

His words stopped abruptly.

Two points of metal erupted through the front of his chest in a spray of blood. One poked through the center of his torso, the other through his heart. His mouth fell open, his eyes went wide.

Triggered by the shock and anger, Ryl snapped into action. Time froze as the last hint of life disappeared from Deyalou's eyes. There was no question.

Deyalou, master swordsman, and Phrenic of Vim, was dead.

It took less than a moment to survey the scene. A ring of archers had snuck within a dozen meters of where the sleeping Vigil rested. Two had fired the arrows that killed Deyalou, the other bolts, launched a fraction of a second behind were aimed toward Ramm, Vox and himself. There was a flash of light as the moonlight reflected off the naked blade of the final attacker; his stealthy figure crept toward the sleeping form of Nielix, safely under the arrows of his companions.

A frenzied roar erupted from Ryl's lips as he raced forward. The alexen inside screamed through his veins. They demanded blood. An inferno raged within him.

He felt the hot splatter of Delayou's blood on his face as he passed the falling body of his friend. The wind swirled around his arm as he whipped his hand outward toward the arrows that floated harmlessly, suspended in air, crawling forward an inch at a time. The devastating arc of wind slammed into the furthest four arrows. Arrows meant to take the lives of his friends. Their shafts wobbled frantically from the strain as they bent upward, altering their present course.

Ryl ducked under the closest arrow, that had likely been aimed at him. He focused on solidifying the woodskin on his left hand. His skin reacted instantaneously as his hand shot upward, squeezing his fingers closed around the shaft of the projectile. Even with the hardened skin, he felt the stinging burn as the wood slid across his palm. The arrow stopped as the fletching reached his fist. Behind him he heard the cries from Vox and Ramm as they were alerted by the surprise attack.

With the arrow in hand, Ryl darted toward the sleeping form of Nielix. The silent blade from the stealthy assassin raced toward his throat. Nielix's eyes cracked open, only a sliver, yet more than enough to realize his doom.

For an instant, Ryl contemplated leaving the man to his fate. His ineptitude had needlessly cost the life of a phrenic. A friend.

The thought only served to enrage him further. With a final burst of speed, he dove into the attacker. Ryl led with his left shoulder, striking the assassin squarely in the chest. He rushed to harden the woodskin on his left arm as he felt the burning bite of the man's blade enter his skin.

He landed on top of the shadowed attacker with the full force of his speed and weight. There was a gasp as he heard and felt the breath leave the stunned assassin’s chest. The bloodied blade slipped from the man's grasp. Ryl wrapped his right hand in the fabric of the man's shirt wrenching the helpless man off the ground as he sprang back to his feet.

He lifted the assassin’s body, slamming it against the thick tree in front of him. The force of the reverberations shook leaves free from the branches above. He held the man off the ground. Without pausing, Ryl slammed the arrow he'd plucked from the air through the left eye of the unknown assailant. The arrow sunk deep into the meat of the tree behind him, suspending the corpse with it.

The first of the archers was now a matter of