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

There was no dizziness that would unsettle his feet. There was no pain that would hold him down.

Ryl opened his mouth to scream in defiance.

Chapter 14

The roar that tore through the stunted glade shocked Ryl with its volume, ferocity and complexity. His voice felt meek. His was but a whisper compared to the torrent of deafening cries that issued from his open mouth. The scream sounded like a chorus of unfamiliar voices. Wails of agony, mixed with cries of rage-filled bloodlust, joined by others that shouted in outright defiance.

He saw Andr’s body tense in alarm. The Horde froze in their approach, heads inclined to the sky, teeth gnashing at the air. The sound berated them as it spiraled throughout the clearing. Ryl surged to his feet, hands simultaneously closing on the ends of the Leaves, ripping them from their sheaths.

The clearing exploded with a brilliant green light as the shimmering blades flashed to life. Andr angled his head to the side, tracking the motion and the sound. HIs eyes went wide at the sight of the figure standing behind him.

All movement in the clearing had ceased, pausing for what seemed like an eternity. Ryl stood motionless a step away from the face of the rock. His arms hung menacingly at his sides; the shimmering green Leaves angled down toward the ground. Glowing tendrils of green fire curled off the blades. The air surrounding them distorted in rippling waves of heat.

The hood was still pulled down low obscuring his eyes; the bottom of his cloak billowed gently to his side although the air was still.

Ryl inclined his head, meeting the astonished gaze of Andr. A subtle, crooked smile tugged up on his lips. His eyes were blazing with the intensity of a storm. The reflection of the shimmering blades made them appear as if they were alight with a smoldering green fire.

“This is not your night to die, my friend,” Ryl whispered.

He could feel his body start to protest the effort; he knew there was little time left. Before Andr could respond, Ryl closed his eyes, inhaling slowly. The air in the clearing seemed to rush toward him as he drew his breath. For a long moment he held it in. As he exhaled, he set free the power flowing inside his veins.

The world slowed to a crawl.

Ryl exploded forward. Andr's eyes widened in shock, moving to follow his motion, yet far too slow to track his fleeting form. To Ryl's surprise, the Horde were less affected by the skill, yet their motions were still hopelessly sluggish. The fire of determination burning inside his veins was too hot. Their speed and numbers would count for nothing.

He darted past Andr; circling around the right side of the fire, his cloak flowing out behind him. For a moment it blocked the light of the flames from the churning Horde that now surged forward as one.

Three quarters of his way around the blaze, Ryl twisted his body toward the approaching Horde. As he spun he called on the soulborne wind with his right hand. He felt the stream of air blossom around his arm.

As his cloak snapped back around his body the light of the fire was revealed. Like the shutters of a window being suddenly thrust open to the blinding light of the sun, the light flashed into the eyes of the advancing Horde. He used his momentum to amplify the force of the soulborne wind that had been building in his right arm. Ryl released the swirling torrent of air, following the flash of light with a blinding arc of burning sticks, smoldering embers, dirt and ash.

The force of his spin threw him into a controlled roll to the right. His path remained on target, lancing straight into the end of the lacerated line of the Horde. The Leaves severed the legs of the first pair it met. The demons in the front row were helpless to defend; their hands still clawing at their faces as the burning embers melted into their rotten smelling skin.

Ryl burst through the back of their line. The blood and gore from the precise strikes of the Leaves followed him like a languorous cloud; the droplets hovering, suspended in the air. The bloody particulate wavered as it sunk like a feather floating down toward the ground. He wasted no time dispatching the Horde as they maneuvered frantically to turn and face their assailant. Heads and appendages floated slowly through the air, partially cauterized by the heat of the Leaves as he wreaked pure havoc on the back of their line.

In a matter of moments, three quarters of the Horde were incapacitated, dead, maimed or blinded by the burning shrapnel from the fire. At the front of their line, five of the abominations pushed away from him. A slow bloodthirsty scream pouring from their lips as they lunged for the mercenary who stood with sword ready to receive their charge.

The remainder had turned to face Ryl—the two standing directly in front of him roared as they closed in. A focused blast of wind from his hand threw their feet out from under them. He lunged forward, removing their heads before their bodies hit the ground.

Without pause, he vaulted off the back of one of the disfigured creatures that writhed in pain on its hands and knees. With one hand it was still scratching desperately at the ruins of its eyes. Ryl soared through the air for a moment before gravity again took hold, yanking his body back toward the ground.

The first two of the remaining five Horde falling on Andr were closing in to strike. Ryl watched as their claws snapped into position as they drew back for a lethal strike.

Andr’s blade would respond too slow.

He would not.

Ryl landed feet first on the backs of the lead attackers, burying the blades of the Leaves deep into the top of their skulls. The