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

a combination of jogging and fast walking they pushed onward to the north, focusing on speed over concealment. The hallucinations and increasing frequency of the uncontrollable bouts of dizziness heralded the rapid acceleration of the sickness. They had hoped to reach the mountains, desperate to find safe harbor before the inevitable onslaught of the sickness overtook him. They had hoped to remain undetected.

On both accounts they had failed.

The sickness was upon them.

The Horde had been on their trail since the beginning.

There was no sign of pursuit throughout the day. Their eyes maintained a vigilant survey of the surrounding land for any evidence of movement. Ryl relied on his mindsight regularly to scan the area. He pushed out against the furthest boundaries of his range for signs of the telltale black shapes that he now recognized as their pursuers.

Though they were free from pursuit, bouts of unpredictable dizziness and hallucinations hindered their movement. While none were as visceral and potent as the one Ryl had experienced earlier in the day, they all required varying degrees of delay.

The dizziness proved far more problematic in its frequency and severity. Without warning Ryl would topple to the ground, his arms and knees receiving the greatest share of the abuse.

His pants were torn at both knees and blood leaked from multiple scrapes as they found shelter in a small opening underneath the overhang of a ledge. Ryl’s thickened skin relegated the injuries to little more than an annoyance. The terrain had grown rockier and dramatically more troublesome throughout the day. Still, from the peak of the ledge, there was no visible sign of green forest on the horizon.

Once under the relative security of their shelter Ryl collapsed, falling asleep almost immediately. As darkness fell, even without the benefit of Ryl's visions, the shadows moving across the ground just off the base of the ridge were evident. The mercenary now counted four separate shadows as they paced about slowly in plain view. Curiously, they had seemingly abandoned any attempt at stealth on their part.

Ryl’s sleep had become restless and fitful as the night progressed. Andr watched with his naked blade in his hand as the night slipped further by. The cave they’d found for shelter was small enough that Ryl’s sleeping body was less than a meter away, allowing Andr to check on him without having to forsake his watch. Throughout the night, Ryl's temperature rose steadily. The increasing heat radiating off his body warmed their cramped shelter.

The raging fever that wracked his body broke at a rapid rate that defied explanation. The unnaturally quick change was unsettling, but Ryl fell back into a comfortable sleep. Outside, the Horde maintained their distance, silently pacing from rock to rock. One hundred paces separated them, yet he could feel their haunting eyes watching him.

Ryl rose sluggishly to his knees. His relied on the shaft of the stone tipped spear to prop himself up. Andr turned his head at the sound, a worried smile cracking across his face.

“Do you see them tonight?” Ryl's whisper was hoarse and raspy.

“Aye. There are four of them,” Andr replied in a hushed tone, pointing his hand out into the night.

Ryl squinted his eyes, peering out into the dark. He quickly dropped to his knees, pressing down on the butt of the spear, bracing his body against it for support.

After a moment, Ryl looked up again, blinking a tear from his eye.

“Another episode?” Andr asked. There was no disguising the concern that riddled his voice.

“Just dizziness this time,” Ryl replied softly, forcing a small smile. “I can feel the shift in my body when the episodes are coming now. At least it gives me a moment to prepare.”

“You should lay back down,” Andr said patiently. The fatherly tone in his voice caught Ryl by surprise.

“No. I'm ok for now,” Ryl said quietly. “You need to sleep too. The time’s coming when I'll be more of a burden than I am now. Get your rest while you can.”

“Can you do this?” Andr asked.

Ryl was hesitant and unsure about his next move. The necessity for Andr to rest, to stay alert was crucial to their survival in the days to come. He focused, sending out a wave of sincerity as he mouthed the next words.

“Yes, I'm fine,” Ryl assured his companion. “The rest did me wonders. I'll shout if anything changes.”

Andr fixed Ryl with a look he'd never seen from the elder mercenary. His head tilted slightly to the side. The expression in his eyes, the subtle upturn of one corner of his lip chilled him to the core.

Ryl’s eyes grew wide as he watched Andr’s face slowly contort. The skin on his cheeks tightened, the shaggy hair shortened and the stubble disappeared. The expression remained, but the face had changed.

The face of his father stared back at him.

Ryl felt the impulse to scream. He felt the call to flee. He fought the desire to stab outward with the stone spear. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the vision to pass.

Andr was gripping him by the shoulders as he opened his eyes. For the first time, he saw fear in the mercenary’s eyes.

Ryl sent a wave of comfort that washed over his companion. Andr's iron grip on his shoulders softened. His head hung slightly as he turned for the back of the cave.

“Thank you, Andr,” Ryl whispered. “For everything.”

The mercenary pivoted his head back toward Ryl. A small, forced smile stretched across his face before he laid down on the cold, hard ground. His sword remained in its sheath though his hand closed around the hilt, resting the weapon carefully across his chest.

Ryl returned his watchful eyes back to the exterior, looking out across the drab landscape. Light from the moon, high in the cloudless night sky illuminated the area to the front of their cave. He could clearly make out the four shadows moving as they milled about with reckless abandon. Focusing his mind, he scanned the area for their signatures.

He was disheartened yet unsurprised