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

At the edge of the fire’s light, the approaching mass of snarling bodies stopped. The ring of illumination shrunk back, as if pulling away from the seething hatred that gathered outside its feeble glow. The massive body in the middle stepped closer.

From out of the darkness, the monstrosity that materialized was unlike any Horde they’d seen up to this point. The hulking figure shared much of the same features as the rest—the disproportionately long arms and legs, the razor-sharp claws—yet was far greater in proportion. The lanky, slender ones they’d encountered had bodies seemingly built for speed. Andr had no doubt that the beast approaching now could move at a terrifying rate, however, its body was constructed for strength. Its unnaturally long arms were easily as wide as his legs and rippled with muscles.

While the others were roughly the same height as him, the approaching newcomer stood several heads taller than the rest. In one hand it carried a rusted old sword, the blade dulled and chipped, yet still a disastrous weapon in its powerful grip.

The others shrank back from its approach. Their body language spoke of subordination and fear. The impression was telling. That this one held a greater place in the society of the Horde was evident, either through physical prowess alone or something more. In truth, nothing was known of the social structure of the beasts, if any existed within the demons that roamed the Outlands. In over a thousand cycles, not one of the creatures had even been seen.

That they had come as one massed army equipped with rudimentary weapons made a powerful argument for some basic society, learning, and leadership. In the tales of Taben they had scattered with the fall of the largest among them, a beast assumed to be their leader. Yet throughout their brief campaign there was no true strategy other than to overwhelm everything that stood in their path with staggering numbers.

The Horde that had stalked them since arriving in the Outlands had worked together in a coordinated fashion, with a clear strategy in place. They’d stalked Andr and Ryl, originally trying to catch them by surprise. When this feint failed, they became intent on wearing them down piece by piece, driving them to a place where they knew there would be no defensible position.

The first group hadn’t accounted for Ryl. The power that transformed the sickened boy into the unstoppable warrior that Andr had witnessed had negated any hope of their easy victory. Their strength in numbers had aided in their demise as they stumbled over one another in a clumsy attempt to defend themselves against an unstoppable foe.

Ryl remained trembling behind him, the fever raging through his body once more. Andr held no hope of his assistance this time.

He flexed his grip on his sword. If he was to die, so be it. His survival had trod precariously along the precipice of his own demise for the majority of his life. He’d accepted that his death would come in battle someday.

His death wouldn’t come alone. He’d take as many of them with him as he could before he was inevitably overcome by their crushing numbers.

The massive blackened body of the leader stopped a meter away from the fire. It glared down at Andr, baring its jagged teeth. Its yawning mouth stretched across its face, nearly splitting its head in half. He could feel the hatred pouring out of the beast, washing over him like a wave. The massed horde surrounding him erupted into a deafening jumble of noises. Blood curdling shrieks mixed with screams of rage and growls of pure animosity.

The creature raised his sword to the sky—the cacophony of sounds silenced almost immediately. Andr’s ears rang in the aftermath of the terrifying chorus. He could still hear their screams and wails echoing through his head. The beasts behind their leader seethed with anxious anticipation, jostling in place. Their faces contorted into a revolting collection of noiseless snarls.

Their attack was imminent.

This would be the end.

The leader slowly, purposefully lowered his sword; pointing it toward Andr. The target of the jagged tip of the weathered blade traveled past him, stopping when it aimed squarely at Ryl. A surge of anger tore through the mercenary and he whipped his sword up, slapping the point of the rusted blade away. He shifted to his side, blocking his fevered companion with his body. The motion in the clearing ceased as the ring of the two swords reverberated through the night.

The sickening effect of what looked to be a smile broke across the face of the looming monster. It angled its body forward; the fire’s light glistening off the rotting moisture on his serrated teeth. The stench emanating from its mouth turned Andr’s stomach.

He could hear the sound begin from within its throat. The hiss grew in intensity and volume into a roar he felt ripple throughout his body. As the scream reached its crescendo, it was abruptly cut off.

The tip of an arrow exploded through its right temple with a shatter of bone and a shower of blood.

A second arrow struck just to the side of the first. Its barbed point demolished the remainder of the right side of the beast’s face as it tore through.

A sickening gurgle was all that remained of the roar of the behemoth. Its massive body crumpled forward onto the fire, plunging the clearing into darkness.

The darkness lasted but an instant.

Pure chaos followed.

Chapter 18

The startled eyes of the Horde turned skyward as an orb of light appeared in the night sky. What started the size of a star grew rapidly in size and brightness. The clearing was cast aglow with the orange light from above. Refusing to take his eyes off the mass of enemies at his front, Andr heard the hissing of the rolling ball of blazing orange fire as it plummeted out of the sky. A churning trail of smoke followed in its wake.

The compact ball