The Defiance of Vim (Catalyst Book 4) by C.J. Aaron (graded readers txt) 📕

Ryl separated himself from the iron embrace of Aelin, surveying the small village that swelled with the population of the city. A wave of nostalgia surged through him as he catalogued the buildings that had comprised his home for cycles. There was a small blackened char on the last common house along the edge of the main road. The fire had been so small, yet had played a pivotal role in the twisted course of his life. His eyes settled on Breila casually making her way through the crowd, greeting those around her with a commonality that he found both alluring and alarming. Ekard walked at her side.

Most who passed him gave him a wide berth, though their stares were poorly veiled. Breila moved steadily in his direction as soon as she saw the pair standing in the square.

“Remember what I told you,” he whispered, patting the youngster on the back, pushing him gently toward the approaching woman. “Get some rest. I’ll see you again soon.”

Without waiting for a reply, he turned and stalked back toward the gates. He moved with purpose. Those who noted his coming scurried from his path as he stormed by. His mood had soured with the thoughts of what had become. With what was to come.

He’d followed Elias, trailing the fleeting glimpses, more notably the feeling toward the south. Had he been too blinded by sheer emotions that he’d failed to recognize the logic. The appearance of the Horde was something he’d never have envisioned. He’d been led blindly into their trap.

He could feel the noose tightening with every passing moment.

The throbbing pain in his left arm intensified with every step closer to the wall. The wicked voice that whispered in his ear seemed to relish his discomfort. Its call for bloodshed, for carnage, grew to a scream as it rattled inside his skull. He tapped into a drop of the speed that flowed through his veins, quickening his pace and thankfully dulling the foreign roar.

Ryl reached the ladder built along the edge of the large storeroom, ascending without interruption. He scrambled up the slanted roof. The footing was slick. Thin boards had been nailed down in parallel strips, allowing for some measure of footholds. The second ladder extended from just below the opposite side of the peak to the palisade above. The angle wasn’t as steep, yet the climb was precarious. He found himself in a rough crawling position, propelling himself upward using his hands and feet. Workers labored below, hammering supports into the rickety structure.

Finding his footing atop the southern palisade, Ryl took an instant to view the surroundings. Only days before, the southern palisade had teemed with spectators, revelers eager to witness this cycle’s Harvest pulled from within. The wall now bristled with anxious energy. Soldiers, invading soldiers, marred the walls, eyes trained on the city without.

He looked to the east. The pulsing glow of the fires that tore through the East Ward still raged seemingly unchecked. Thick clouds of smoke billowed into the sky. The occasional flame was visible even from where he stood.

The air this high up was thick with the acrid smell of smoke. The swirling breeze from the sea brought with it a complex variation in aromas. His eyes burned one moment, only to be washed clean with a crisp tang of salt. An instant later, the foul hints of death and rot, the odor of the Outland Horde, churned his stomach.

Ryl stopped the first soldier walking past.

“Where can I find Captain Cipri?” Ryl asked the startled warrior.

The man was young, perhaps no older than his early twenties. Ryl had no concept of what his life had been like leading up to this moment. What had led him to this juncture atop the palisade? Was it for the love of his lord? Love of his family? The hatred of the Ascertaining Decree or the kingdom as a whole? Was he merely seeking a life of adventure?

The soldier stared at him for a moment, his head cocked slightly to the side as he attempted to peer into the darkness beneath Ryl’s hood. His face showed only a hint of fear, though he’d seen the demons who lurked beyond the wall.

“Cipri is this way,” he said, pointing further to the west, above the center of the Pining Gates’ mouth. “Follow me. He’ll be interested to meet you.”

Ryl followed the soldier along the palisade. He spied broken views of the city below between the marksmen who lined the peak. Sparkles of moonlight glinted off the waters of the sea in the distance.

His escort stopped abruptly, saluting the soldier who stood against the wall. The captain leaned heavily on his arms, looking out over the city with calculating eyes. He raised himself to his full height. His lean figure was taller than Ryl expected, standing well over a head higher than himself.

“Thank you, soldier,” he grumbled. “Carry on.”

With a final look at Ryl, his escort retreated, hastening on to whatever task he’d been pursuing before the interruption.

Unlike the previous younger soldier, the appearance of the captain spoke of one well versed in the art of battle. It was less about the scars that marked the exposed skin of his arms and face. The man carried himself with a confidence and poise that was unrelenting. He seemed entirely at home atop the wall, surrounded by the human implements of war.

“Lord Eligar failed to disclose that fighting abominations from myths would be part of our duty,” he grumbled. “The name’s Cipri. It’s a pleasure to meet you finally, Ryl. Yours is a name well respected, spoken of with a hushed reverence by those in the know. It now spreads through the kingdom. I see the wild selflessness that Andr referred to. Thank you for saving them.”

Ryl nodded. He was eternally uncomfortable with the position that had been forced upon him. The weight levied on his shoulders was crushing, yet, as with his