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

abruptly disturbed. The smell of food made his mouth water, yet underneath it all, the hint of another potent, disturbing smell tugged at his senses. A quick scan of the area showed the glowing traces of the tributes ahead through the door.

Their signatures were faint, yet they were close.

A muted thump from the left drew their attention to the only other door to the room. The group quietly padded toward the closed door, fanning out in preparation for whatever remained inside. Ryl drew one of his blades, nodding to Ramm who stood to the side of the door. A single jerk from the phrenic removed the door from its hinges with a snapping of wood. Ramm discarded the door behind him, toppling a pair of chairs at the table. A muffled gasp came from within.

“Come out. Now,” Ryl demanded.

There was a rapid shuffling noise from within. Ryl flinched as a body barreled out from the room’s interior. Aldren’s face showed an expression of relief as he recognized Ryl and the phrenics standing outside.

“There are three menders in there,” he blurted out. “None are armed with more than kitchen knives.”

“Come out, now,” Ryl repeated his previous command lacing his word with a feeling of trust. “None will be harmed. There are injuries; your skills are needed outside.”

After a moment's pause, the first of the menders poked his head around the corner. After a rapid visual inspection, the wiry old man ducked back into the small kitchen. There were brief whispers from within, then silence.

The solid thump echoed from inside the room. The sharp slap sounded like skin slamming unhindered onto the wooden floor. Ryl rushed through the open door.

The galley kitchen was short and narrow. Straight through the door a large oven and prep area rested against the wall. To the right the cabinet held the dishes. Racks of dried food and supplies lined the shelves along the back wall. The mender who'd poked his head through the door wobbled erratically on his feet, toppling to the ground as Ryl approached. His hands made no attempt to slow his fall, his face smashing into the ground with a sickening crunch.

The third, who looked to be the eldest of the bunch rushed to swallow a small vial of clear liquid. He grinned as he downed the tincture.

“The secrets die with us,” he choked. “You'll never get in. Only the Lei Guard have the key.”

The mender’s eyes rolled into the back of his head, before blood drenched his face as it seeped from his tear ducts. He collapsed backwards into the shelf, before crashing to the ground in an avalanche of food and supplies.

A yellow vapor began to rise from their bodies, like steam off boiling water. It was as if the menders were melting from within. Ryl backed away quickly, ushering the rest of his party out before closing the door tightly behind him.

“We need to seal off this door,” Ryl muttered. “Who knows what manner of devious poison they've ingested. I'd rather not find out.”

Andr limped back to the table; two uniform coats were draped casually over the backs of their chairs in front of their previous occupant’s half eaten meals. He balled them up, tossing them back to Ryl. The young phrenic grabbed the pitcher of water from the small table alongside the door to the kitchen, dousing the uniforms before wedging them into the crack under the door.

With the door sealed as best they could, the group turned their attention to the interior door.

“Don't suppose that body you're dragging around has the keys on him?” Andr asked

“I'll check,” Kaep offered, running from the room before he could reply.

Ramm strode confidently to the door tapping it probingly with the butt of his warhammer. The thump was heavy, not the hollow knock you'd expect to hear from a door.

Kaep rushed back into the room a moment later, shaking her head.

“We’re not that lucky,” she said.

In response, Ramm reared back, swinging his hammer, striking the door just below the lock. Again and again he hammered into the side of the door. Chips of stone fell from the walls, and the boards cracked, spreading bit by bit. Perhaps a dozen strikes in, the phrenic roared out of frustration, swinging the hammer one last time.

There was a colossal snap as the thick iron pin locking the door sheared off in its catch. The panel shot inward, grinding an arc across the floor as its top hinge broke free. Now supported by a single hinge, one final kick tore the door completely from the wall. The panel crashed to the ground with a thunderous sound. Its cross section revealed a plate of metal sandwiched between two thick planks of wood. The thump of its impact with the floor echoed through the open chamber beyond.

The scene inside the chamber was something out of a nightmare. There was a stench of stale blood and excrement mixed with a hint of the pungent aroma of death and decay. Ryl covered his nose as he entered. One by one, the others filed in behind him.

The room stretched back thirty meters or so and was nearly half that distance wide. Lanterns at even intervals burned on the walls, illuminating the horrors inside. Leaning along the left-hand wall were angled slabs of wood, with a thick leather harness inset nearly three quarters of the way up each one. The first two were empty. The next twelve contained the naked, shriveled bodies of men and women. Along the wall behind the constraints a trough filled with untold filth was cut into the floor.

The red brands on the right side of their necks stood out against their pale skin.

Tributes.

There were three long tables in the center of the room, and each contained a meticulously arranged series of glasses, vials and implements, the purpose of which Ryl shuddered to think of. Some of the vials were filled with a thick, dark red mixture of what he assumed to be blood.

Three closed doors stood evenly