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

was on his feet before he realized his body had encouraged the action. There was a sudden flare, a momentary flash of searing pain as he leapt forward, breaking the bond of the hatred and fear that had kept his feet rooted to the ground. His body was propelled forward, as if drawn by a force not his own. Cray lunged forward in defense of the stranger who’d willingly sacrificed himself to exact their survival.

Heat lanced through him as he charged forward toward the fray. The distance, some twenty meters, seemed to vanish in an impossibly short time. With a scream of pure rage, unarmed and without training, he threw himself into the fight.

Cray had acted impulsively. He’d given no thought to what he could do. What he would do as he entered the vicious duel between trained swordsmen. Few would have dared enter a battle between the Lei Guard and the mercenary. A spark flashed as swords clashed with lethal intent to his front. He dropped his shoulder, gritting his teeth as he anticipated the impact with Elias.

For a moment, the attention of the attack turned from Andr. The precision focus altered as it accounted for its new attacker. The mercenary lunged forward as the distraction granted him a window of opportunity. The flat of his blade hammered against the exposed forearm of Elias. The Lei Guard roared in rage.

His blade fell to the floor, kicking up chunks of packed dirt as it bounced once before settling to the ground.

With agility that he could scarcely comprehend, Elias, though disarmed, pulled back from Andr. He twisted his body an instant before the charging tribute made contact. Cray’s satisfaction was short-lived.

His relief turned to panic.

He felt the iron grips of Elias’s hands clench down on his shoulders. Pain surged through his arms as they squeezed their hold. Elias spun his body, carrying Cray with his rotation. The tribute’s feet lost their contact with the ground. Elias used the momentum of his attack, accelerating as he spun round.

Cray wasn’t sure where in the rotation Elias released his hold. The whole world spun around him as he flailed uncontrollably through the air. He felt a jolt of pain, accompanied by a curse, as his unexpected flight collided with another body.

He recognized the voice.

Andr toppled over him as his body crashed into the mercenary’s lower legs.

Though the turn of events was jarring, Cray found himself back on his feet within a blink of an eye. Sticking out of the ground less than a pace away, the wicked, curved sword that Andr held, once the possession of the Lei Guard, wobbled gently side to side. Its tip was buried a hand’s width into the floor of the chamber.

Cray grabbed the blade with his right hand. His fingers closed around the grip, flexing as they squeezed the worn wrapping. The blade seemed to sing, a high-pitched note that sounded through the room as it slid free from the dirt. Though he’d held a blade only a few times in his life, he felt strangely comfortable with the weapon in his hand. As if he’d been training with it for cycles.

His feet shifted, widening their stance, his knees bent slightly. Coiled, ready to strike.

For that instant, he felt a sudden calm flow over him. It was wavering. His grasp on the unexpected serenity was tenuous, though it coated every fiber of his being.

The figure standing several paces to his front shattered his newfound determination with a single motion. Elias had not been idle as Cray had scrambled for the blade.

Andr stood, though not of his own volition. The mercenary struggled, though his actions were futile, wrapped in the steely grips of the Lei Guard. Elias’s left arm was curled around the mercenary, locking him in place. The other slowly lifted a blade, the razor’s edge coming to a stop against Andr’s bare neck.

The horror must have been apparent, written across Cray’s face like writing in a book. Elias glared at him, his hateful stare stabbing through him like a knife. The wicked grin that spread across his face was haunting, more feral than human. The blackness, gone in the days prior, now pulsed out from around him, its inky tendrils reaching out like feelers.

His eyes quickly darted across the room before returning to rest on Cray.

“You’ll watch this one die,” Elias growled. His raspy voice was hushed, yet the words and intent were clear. He pointed the blade in his hand toward Cray as he continued.

“You will be next,” he hissed.

Cray watched in desperation as the blade inched closer to Andr’s neck. The mercenary’s struggle intensified, yet he was helpless in the arms of the Lei Guard. The attempt was hopeless, yet Cray refused—his body refused to remain idle watching. The scream built up in his throat as he sprang forward.

“Elias, no,” came the cry from behind Cray.

The voice was frantic, powered by raw emotions so strong They were palpable. He felt desperation, an infinite sadness, and compassion tear through him as the sound rang throughout the room. He stumbled as the voice from behind seemed to push him as he lunged at Elias.

Though he’d never known that force, he’d recognize that voice anywhere.

It was Sarial.

Cray staggered forward for a step, risking a momentary glance behind him. Sarial stood while the rest of the room still cowered beneath the weight of Elias’s assault. Her posture was rigid, her arms hung down at her sides, her hands clenched into tight fists.

The look painted across her face was chilling. Sarial’s eyes were wide. They spoke of unending pain and of loss. She was the eldest of the tributes by numerous cycles. Her curse was to remain for cycles beyond when most here were gone. How many had she seen Harvested in her time within The Stocks? Tears streamed down her cheeks.

“Elias, please,” she whispered as Cray’s head whipped back to Andr and his captor.

Elias’s blade had been moving for a killing strike. A fatal slash to the neck that