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

of his fire stood a second ring of Horde, waiting for their feast to begin with eager anticipation. He guessed that there was an additional thirty there. The odds were hopeless. In his current position, he could never outlast an assault of that strength.

They’d been toying with him for days. The probing assault, the commotion throughout the nights. They’d been wearing him down. They knew Ryl was a burden; that it was only a matter of time before his exhaustion was so great that he’d stand no chance of rallying any tangible defense.

Andr felt the familiar stubborn intensity grow inside him. It’d been cycles since he’d felt the adrenaline of a near hopeless situation. He’d survived in the past. He was determined not to fail now.

“You want me? I’m here,” he screamed defiantly into the night, backing slowly away from the fire, bringing him closer to the rock. Closer to Ryl.

“Come and get me,” he growled.

The front line inched closer in a coordinated step.

Andr lowered the point of his blade to the ground. His head dipped slightly in defeat.

A solitary attacker surged forward from his front, it’s high pitched, blood-curdling shriek splitting the quiet of the night. Andr was prepared for the advance, his submission feigned. Even still, the speed of its attack nearly caught him off guard. The lanky beast moved at a terrifying pace no human could sustain. He whipped his blade up as he stepped to the side. He flexed his arm against the resistance as the sharpened metal passed through flesh and bone, splitting the attacking Horde nearly in twain from groin to shoulder. The lifeless body tumbled backward, spilling across the fire. Half of the small blaze was scattered and extinguished with a sizzle and snap of sticks as blood and skin connected with the burning logs. The smell of the burning flesh filled the air with a sickening potency.

The remaining Horde exploded into a frenzy with the death of their companion. A cacophony of wails, screams and howls tore through the air. They stomped their clawed feet on the ground, held their heads high as they screamed into the night. One after another, the members forming the outer ring materialized from the darkness as they inched closer to the lone mercenary. The flickering light of the fire danced across their near black bodies. Their claws slashed through the air in mimicked attacks. The clacking sound of their serrated teeth snapping together drowned out the quiet crackle of the fire.

Unnoticed, a mild breeze pushed through the thickened air of the glade.

Chapter 13

Ryl was a prisoner inside his tormented body. Gone were the cognitive abilities to communicate, to move, to control the flow of thoughts in his mind. The capacity to function without assistance had abandoned him with the rapid progression of the sickness. Any motions his body made were involuntary reactions to whatever stimuli triggered the response. Although he faded into and out of consciousness, his mind was acutely aware of one thing.

Pain.

The agony was unending.

He burned with the fire of the fevers. His body convulsed uncontrollably as the chills raged on. He could feel the dizzying sensation of the world spinning around him. The hallucinations riddled his exhausted mind with their demented and distorted realities. His phrenic mindsight randomly scanned his surrounding providing information he failed to comprehend.

Momentary interludes of clarity had interrupted the distortion of his mind over the last several hours. He had sensed the profound feelings of anxiety and of panic coming from outside of his body. The sensation elicited memories of the Erlyn. Before it was again overtaken by pain, images of the ancient forest flashed through his mind before. There was a message hidden within the images. A secret concealed amongst the sensations, yet his besieged mind failed to grasp the meaning.

Another glimpse of clarity. His mindsight provided a startling view of his surroundings that flashed into his mind. Consecutive arcs of black shapes converged into one mass as they slowly closed on his position. He could hear their screams ringing through his mind. A strangely familiar feeling hit him with remarkable force. The overwhelming hatred that emanated from the very core of the Horde crashed into him like a wave.

Like water scouring dirt off the face of a rock, the staggering hatred that surged over him washed the confusion that clouded his thoughts. The sensations familiar to those of the Erlyn were still pulsing into his mind. He felt a light breeze brush an errant strand of hair across his face. The gentle wind carried a voice, shouting in desperation that echoed in his ears:

“You must act, Ryl. Without you, he will die. Without him, so too will you.”

His mind was still a jumbled mass of random thoughts, emotions, questions. His confusion was vast.

Yet, that voice was shockingly familiar.

Da’agryn.

The wind carrying the whisper stilled once more. An unmistakable stench of death and rot settled over him like a blanket as the moving air ceased. The odor burned an immediately recognizable face onto the oppressive hatred that assailed him.

His eyes shot open.

A single, momentary glance through blurred eyes painted a picture that fanned the tiny flame burning inside veins. Andr stood a pace away, sword in hand, defiant in the face of insurmountable odds.

His friend was about to die.

The stranger who’d risked his own life, his own freedom, to save him stood confidently in the face of his own demise. Ryl was moments away from watching him be torn to shreds at the hands of the physical incarnation of hatred.

His mind triggered a memory, a painful recounting of the past. The vision of Eroh and Kailid—the phrenic heroes who sacrificed their lives so that Caprien could be rescued—assailed him with gut wrenching force.

Ryl’s arms were crossed, folded across his stomach. His hands clenched into fists; his fingernails digging into his palms. His skin tingled as it came in contact with the uncovered shaft of the Leaves.

An all too familiar heat thundered through his veins. The