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

the soldiers sprung to their feet, swords flying loose from their scabbards. Where were the others? Two were still unaccounted for.

The element of surprise was gone. Ryl pushed through the underbrush into the opening on the other side. The cracking of a twig to his left gave away the approach of the first of the hidden attackers. His sword was raised above his head, already moving forward for a lethal strike.

Only a hint of speed was needed. Ryl lunged forward, ducking slightly to the side, inside the arc of the downward strike of the sword. He grabbed the man by the shirt, balling his hands up in the fabric of each shoulder. Using his momentum, he spun the man around. The swordsman’s feet lifted into the air halfway through the spin, yet his legs churned rapidly as if they still made contact with the ground. Timing his release, Ryl heaved his attacker face first into a tree along the forest's edge. The snap of his neck as it collided with the wood thundered through the trees.

With a scream, the second hidden man emerged, this time from their right. The long axe in his hand swung out to the side for a vicious strike. Acting on impulse, Ryl stepped inside his swing, hardening the woodskin in his right hand. He hammered the base of his fist down onto the wooden shaft of the axe handle.

With an echoing knock of wood against wood, the handle exploded in a shower of splinters. The axe head spun harmlessly across the clearing. Ryl tripped the man as he strode through the rain of debris, sending him skidding to the ground. His body stopped as the pointed end of Ramm's massive warhammer pinned his skull to the ground.

The two remaining guards wavered as they inched ahead, flanking their hooded companion. With two solid thunks, an arrow sprouted from each of their heads. Their bodies dropped, like marionettes whose strings had been cut, crumpling to lifeless heaps on the ground. The third arrow missed its mark as the hooded stranger casually stepped aside.

“Ah, there are more,” the hooded figure hissed as it whipped two serrated, curve blades from their sheaths. “Now this is a surprise.”

It darted forward with astonishing speed, forcing Ryl to fall back a step as he pulled the Leaves from their holsters. The blades erupted to life as soon as they cleared the leather. Time slowed, yet the hooded figure still moved with considerable speed, comparable to that of the phrenics that stood at his back. Kaep, Ramm, Vox and Andr fanned out behind him.

Ryl dodged a slash at his chest, immediately twisting away from the second aimed at his neck. He had no desire to prolong the fight. He felt an unusual tingling feeling bubble up in his left arm.

“Keep this one alive,” Ryl called to his companions. “I want answers.”

The hooded man grinned as he launched a vicious strike at Ryl's chest. He twisted his body into a spin, both blades preparing for an attack. Ryl cut his movement off, darting forward to land the heel of his shoe in the center of the man's back. The blow sent him sprawling across the clearing. The figure rolled coming to a momentary rest on his back.

Ramm anticipated the motion, seizing his opening, slamming his warhammer down. The man shrieked in pain as the pointed end of the massive mallet impaled his left arm above the elbow, pinning him to the ground.

“Who are you?” Ryl demanded as he stepped closer.

The man snarled as he lifted his chest from the ground. Ryl hopped back a step as the blade in his right hand lashed out again. He watched in shock as the hooded man spun the knife in his hand mid-strike, then finished the move by driving the blade through his own heart.

Ryl let time fall back to normal; his hair and cloak shifting as it rushed past. He quickly scanned the area. The darkened clot in his vision evaporated as the life drained from the man's body. His vision was clear once more.

His companions were at his side standing over the body as he bent down, removing the hood from the man's head. He heard Kaep gasp as the features became visible.

The man's face was gaunt and withered. His skin was pale, and streaks of black clawed their way up from his neck. The stains spread out across his cheeks in the same way that the roots of a plant spread out through the earth.

The face was shockingly familiar to Ryl. As if they'd been acquainted yet separated for many cycles. He let the blades of the Leaves fade away, before using the end of the handle to pull down on the collar of the hooded corpse. Ryl gasped at the sight. He felt the breath rush from his body and his stomach churn like he was falling.

The blackened lines grew thicker further down his neck, yet that wasn't what shocked Ryl. The folds of the black hood had concealed a harrowing secret. On the man's neck, just under his right ear were the raised markings of a brand.

H1343.

The man laying before him was dead.

The corpse at his feet was that of a tribute.

“Ryl, do you see the brand? Andr whispered in shock. “How is that possible?”

Ryl shook his head in disbelief. The withered shell of a man before him bore the telltale marks of a tribute. What madness drew him to attack one of his own?

Andr bent down, carefully turning the head in the opposite direction. The house brand—a crest with two crossed swords, framed by the massive rack of a buck—still bulged through the skin over the streaks of black on the left side of his neck.

“This is the mark of House Villais,” Andr explained. “It's no coincidence that this path leads to their front door.”

A groan from the direction of the wagon interrupted their conversation; the Leaves flared to life as he hurdled the corpse. There were two bodies on the