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

club backwards. The jagged tines embedded themselves in the beast’s right cheek.

With a roar that shook the earth, it bellowed in pain and fury as it wrenched the crude barbed weapon from its cheek. Black blood streamed from the wounds, rushing down its face in a putrid-smelling waterfall.

Ryl gave the demon no time to regain its composure. Time slowed to a crawl as he drank deep from the power in his veins. He exploded forward. Having turned its giant frame to the right while removing the offending barbs from its face, Ryl surged around to the left, toward the creature’s unguarded rear. The beast pivoted to counter, yet it was too slow. The glowing blade in the left hand slashed outward, biting deep into the back of the left knee, splitting it open to the bone.

With its mass twisting on the injured knee, it screamed as the skin tore beyond Ryl’s cut. The ground shook as its hulking frame crashed to the courtyard. The momentum of his attack carried him beyond the giant demon. While the element of surprise was his, he aimed to unleash as much chaos as he could.

He barreled into the unprepared line of banes. Ryl came in low, lashing out with a vicious slash with the blade in his right hand. Wind and flame streamed forward. The two closest, unlucky enough to be within reach of his blades, collapsed to the ground, wailing as they grasped at the stumps where their legs used to be. Several next to them and in the row behind joined in the agony as the burning wave of green flames crippled them.

Ryl darted away before the unprepared beasts could enter the fray. He returned his attention to the massive Horde bellowing in rage and pain behind him. His momentary lapse of focus on his primary target as he struck out at the waiting line of demons cost him. He had only a moment to react.

He cringed in anticipation, focusing on the woodskin over his body. His skin reacted instantly to the command, crusting over with a thick layer of protective bark. Ryl tried to leap away. One final attempt to avoid the blow he saw coming.

His effort was in vain.

The beast had twisted as it had fallen, wrenching its ruined knee to the side. Its massive body hammered into the ground with a force that sent a tremor rippling outward. Catching the bulk of its weight on its right forearm and elbow, its left was free to attack. It swatted at Ryl with the back of its open palm, as one would shoo off a pesky insect.

The blow would have shattered a normal man.

The combination of the woodskin and his last instant reaction dampened the blow. Even so, the force of the impact was staggering. The errant swipe of the demon’s hand caught him in the chest, lifting his body into the air. He floated for several meters before slamming again into the hard stone of the courtyard.

Ryl’s vision blurred from the sudden absence of air in his lungs as his head ricocheted off the stone. He rolled over and over, fighting all the while to maintain a hold of the woodskin.

To his consciousness.

He ended abruptly as his body crashed into the still-smoldering rubble of the barracks.

Sparks rained down around him as he shattered the charred timbers.

He felt the heat of the embers on his back. The pain in his left arm grew excruciating.

Chapter 47

Ryl’s vision spun madly. His body ached. The force of the impact had been astounding. It was as if he’d collided with an avalanche. At first the heat that radiated through his body was a comfort. He struggled to his feet as the pleasant warmth soon became sweltering.

His legs wobbled beneath his weight as he staggered to his feet. He fought the urge to vomit as his stomach retched from the pain and nausea. He had no time to fully evaluate his condition, not that it would likely matter. Every staggered step lanced pain through his body. He’d lost hold of the speed somewhere after the strike, yet his executioners remained fixed. Though his vision was still blurred, the black masses of the Horde were clear.

Ryl shook his head gently, though the act alone caused an excessive amount of pain. His brain seemed to rattle in his head as he moved it subtly from side to side. Splotches of gold and yellow dotted his vision, mixing with the errant glow of the embers that still rained down around him. His ears rang. He was aware of raised voices from the palisade behind him, yet he failed to assemble the words.

He ambled forward, step after pained step. His vision was fixed on the massive Horde that remained watching from where it crouched. Ryl stopped in the center of the debris-filled square. He turned his body to face the giant. Steam wafted up from his cloak from where he’d remained in the coals of the fire.

As Ryl moved, his body took stock of its injuries, or lack thereof. He was sure ribs were broken. Thankfully, the choking flood that had nearly drowned him alive when his lungs were punctured was absent. Though the rest of his body was sore, if he was broken elsewhere, he didn’t notice.

His hands were the most distracting feature. Both felt like great weights suspended from the base of his arms. He risked a glance down, surprised to see the bark-like crust of the woodskin had coated the entirety of his balled fists. The plain ends of the dormant Leaves bulged from either side. The thick bark coated the gaps between his fingers. He rolled his hands over, astonished that on the underside, the protective covering had seemingly melded the mythical weapons to his body.

As he squeezed his fingers, the protection faltered. It was an awkward combination of sensations. The feeling of pins and needles tickled his hands while he felt like a heated blade sliced across his skin. The last