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

He sat forward, with his arms wrapped carefully around his knees. Ryl struggled to watch the world outside, desperately seeking to make sense of the area through the constant spinning in his mind. His focus and vision were sporadic. The bits he’d seen were clear of any incoming threats … though he began to distrust his own interpretation. He tried desperately to keep watch. He needed to let Andr sleep.

The stark reality of the situation chilled him. He was losing complete control of his body. Would it be a day, or would it be hours before his function slipped entirely from his grasp? He realized his life hung delicately in the balance. His hope of survival rested fully on the shoulders of a man he’d just met.

It wasn’t long before Ryl’s thoughts became incoherent. The fever had given way to the chills; the sound of his chattering teeth echoed into the still, late evening. Bouts of extreme dizziness followed, one after another; he toppled to his side, falling across the entrance to the cave. The agonizing burning from the swelling rashes stung every inch of his body that contacted the ground. His thoughts were frantic.

Disorganized.

Panicked.

Was he supposed to call for help? Who was he to call? He couldn’t remember.

“Sarial. Mother, help,” Ryl whispered as the tears flowed from his eyes.

His body convulsed with chills. Through the tears he could see nothing but the featureless black shadow that quickly blocked out the light of the entrance. There was intense fear, yet he couldn’t comprehend the reason. He closed his eyes as the sobbing became uncontrollable. He wretched, a contraction he felt tear through the entirety of his body. The acidic bile poured from his mouth, burning his throat as it spilled onto the ground.

Ryl felt the tug on his shoulder, felt his body being lifted from the ground, cradled like a child.

He smiled as he slipped into the oblivion inside his mind.

Chapter 11

Ryl’s condition remained in a state of flux throughout the night. Andr had him sprawled out on the ground just behind him, close to the entrance. He split his attention between keeping an eye on Ryl while maintaining a careful watch on the exterior.

The Horde outside had replenished their numbers from the night before. Andr counted six shadows meandering carefree throughout the night. Though the creatures strayed closer to the entrance of their shelter, no attacks came. Instead, the creatures issued forth a random series of blood curdling shrieks and wails into the quiet of the night. Just when Andr thought there would be no more, a call from a different creature split the silence. The screams and cries grated on his nerves, sending chills racing throughout his body.

Through it all Ryl remained fitful, locked in an agonizing, dreamless consciousness. His body moved from bouts of uncontrollable convulsions due to the chills, to burning with an intensity that Andr could feel radiating from his body nearly a meter away. His wails were agonizing in their own respect, even more terrifying to his steadfast protector than those from the Horde lurking outside.

Ryl woke shortly after daybreak. The conversation was brief, and in a moment of lucid clarity, he understood the dire need to move. Andr wasted no time propping him up with an arm under his shoulder, practically dragging him as they hobbled toward the north. For the first time since entering the Outlands, the normally clear skies were covered with a foreboding layer of low, grey clouds.

The small grove they had seen in the distance thankfully produced an easily accessible spring that bubbled up from earth. They replenished their dried-out water skins, drinking their fill. The carrots they survived on were sparse; Andr carefully helped Ryl choke down one before his body rejected it in a violent episode of spasms and vomiting.

The pair limped forward throughout the day. The ridge they’d been following ended shortly after the copse of trees. Scattered rocky hills dotted the landscape in the distance and Andr steered them toward the largest, slightly northwest of their position. The distance was greater than he’d anticipated and their rate of travel more sluggish. The mercenary resorted to carrying Ryl as he slipped into unconsciousness before they reached the base of the outcropping.

Carefully laying his charge on the rocky, reddish soil, Andr searched for a defensible location. Thankfully, he succeeded in locating one a short way up the eastern face of the hill. Here, the gentle incline of the slope met the steep face that continued to its peak. A sliver of the waning sun had fallen below the horizon as Andr pulled Ryl inside the small cave. Their shelter for the night was created by a massive slab that had sheared from the rock face above. The slab had dug itself into the ground before leaning back to rest against the ledge, walling in three sides, creating a small gap.

The night that passed was a torturous affair.

Ryl's condition was frantic. He convulsed, burned, vomited and wailed incoherent nonsense into the night. The Horde outside had crept closer than their position the previous night, circling the hill, bellowing all manner of bone chilling screams.

Ryl had only a moment of clarity that night, just enough to confirm the six shadowed masses that appeared in his vision. The extra energy spent using his skills sent him spiraling back into an uncomfortable unconsciousness.

Andr fought the exhaustion throughout the night. He'd not been able to sleep for over a day. He was starving and grudgingly acknowledged that he’d likely have to carry Ryl for the duration if their trek. How far would they make it?

As with every night up to this point, the Horde vanished with the coming of the sun, melting back to an unknown destination somewhere in the reddish landscape. The scattered clouds provided a welcome break from the oppressive coverage of the previous day. Andr managed to get Ryl up onto his feet, setting off as fast as