The Defiance of Vim (Catalyst Book 4) by C.J. Aaron (graded readers txt) 📕

“I fear for her,” he whispered.

Ryl understood his concern. He knew the same fear.

The mender, like all who had been reared in the shadows of The Stocks, no matter the station, no matter their calling, had been raised upon the same lies. The need for the treatment was absolute. It was forced upon them as a rule of law—without contestation. He had been taught that without the treatment, they would all die.

He felt overwhelming compassion for the mender. He knew Jeffers’s learned mind understood the fallacy of the statement. Ryl stood before him. He was living proof that there was life beyond the covert poison that had been forced upon the tributes. The mender’s logic, his judgments were clouded by emotion. Sarial’s suffering was an agony that was wearing him all too thin. He longed to help her, help them all, yet was powerless.

“The remedy must run its course, my friend.” Ryl spoke quietly. He pushed a focused slice of hope toward the mender.

The effects were immediate. There was a visible clearing of the mender’s countenance. Jeffers’s shoulders rose slightly while the creases of worry faded from his brow.

“Their course is rough,” Ryl admitted. “Yet they will survive it. She’ll return to you soon.”

Ryl clapped the mender on the shoulder before making his way carefully across the room.

He could ill afford to waste any more time.

Chapter 14

Ryl again savored the flavor of the fresh air as he moved swiftly across the clearing. The breeze was cleansing and crisp, a far cry from the interior chambers nestled in the tree’s roots. The contrast in temperatures was a shock to his system. Even after a short time inside, his body had acclimated to the heat. With the combined warmth from the press of bodies, meager fire, and lanterns, the heat bordered on stifling.

The air inside felt heavy and thick. The heat added to the potency of the odors. Trapped beneath the trees, it was oppressive with a density that was palpable.

Outside, the weight of the air softened. The scents of the forest overpowered the odors of remedy, sweat and bile. Closing his eyes, he inhaled a deep calming breath, letting the apprehension over what must be waft away with the wind. His mindsight illuminated the picture of his surroundings. Glowing clusters of pale yellow orbs grouped together in tightly formations. Packed together in cramped, close quarters, the individual forms of the ailing tributes were difficult to tell apart.

At the center of the clearing, two figures burned far brighter. Brighter than the rest combined.

Phrenics.

A small glow approached tentatively from his right. The petite steps were stealthy.

“Good evening, young Faya,” Ryl called softly.

The glowing signature paused.

“Shouldn’t you be asleep?” he asked with a smile as he turned his head toward the approaching child hidding in the shadows. The grin that blossomed across her face was infectious, though the look was lost in her sightless eyes.

“I couldn’t sleep. The dream came again. It troubles me, Ryl,” she whispered as she walked.

Ryl knelt, bringing his face to her level.

“When did the dreams start?” he asked.

Faya locked her hands behind her back, rocking slightly back and forth on her heels.

“They started the night we reached Tabenville,” she mumbled. “Something in the woods here speaks to me. There’s a whisper I can hear in my mind, though the words are lost.”

Ryl’s eyes rolled over the trees and the clearing that surrounded them.

“Your powers are growing, though you are still so young,” he offered. “The Erlyn is ancient, Faya. She’s seen generations of phrenics, of tributes pass through her midst. Do not be afraid of her whispers, for she will not lead you astray.”

Faya sighed though the trouble failed to subside with the release of air. The tension in her body remained. There was something she wanted to say. Something more that she feared.

“There is more to the dream,” Ryl stated. “More that you didn’t share, isn’t there?”

“Aye, Ryl,” she whispered. Her eyes swelled with water. She struggled to hold back the deluge that threatened to spill forth. “You’ve changed. You still glow, yet it’s not the blinding light I recall. There is a dull shadow around the edges. In my dreams, I struggle to see you at all. I fear for you, Ryl.”

A single tear escaped, tracing a thin line down her cheek.

Ryl shifted forward, placing his hands gently on her shoulders. He sent a wake of comfort over her quivering frame. Since he’d regained consciousness, he’d noticed the subtle differences as well. Ever since the last of the poison was removed, he’d been acutely aware of his senses, every one seemingly working in overdrive. Scents were amplified. His vision was clearer. Tastes more profound. His hearing was more tuned into the slightest of noises. The information from each touch was exhilarating and complex.

After the latest encounter with the Lei Guard, however, something felt off. The alexen were still there, yet they moved with an agitated haste. Raging through his veins with a speed that sent tingles through his body.

“You grow more perceptive by the day,” Ryl acknowledged. “I feel it too. I feel the clouds that blot out the sun.”

He offered her his left arm. The nearly flawless, blazing sun was now marred with a collection of tiny black splotches.

Faya sniffled at his admission. She traced her fingers over the image imprinted on his arm.

“Do not fear for me,” he added. “For I do not fear for myself. My convictions remain the same. I will see the tributes free. I will see Kaep returned.”

Ryl stood, reaching down and collecting Faya’s hand. She squeezed his fingers tightly yet followed him without hesitation back toward the tree where her father slumbered. For a few moments they walked in silence. Her quiet sob broke the quiet crunch of their feet on the earth.

“They will need your guidance.” Ryl comforted the youngster. “They will need your council. Do not ever be afraid to give it. They will listen.”

Faya pulled up several meters before the entrance