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

of flame struck the ground in the center of the clearing amidst the middle of the Horde. He watched the silhouetted figures of the demons as they attempted to dive out of the way of the incoming projectile. As it crashed into the ground, the ball of fire detonated, exploding with a vicious force. The wave of heat and pressure rocked Andr from his feet, tumbling him backward onto Ryl’s prone body. Fragments of dirt, rock and body parts rained down upon them.

Most of the Horde were blown from their feet by the force of the explosion. The trees along the perimeter ignited into flame. The ringing in his ears drowned out all other sounds. It provided the chorus; the burning trees lit the stage for the unfolding turmoil within.

The Horde that stumbled to their feet were frantic, off-balance, heads pivoting from side to side as they struggled to sort out what was happening. Only half of the original force were staggering to their feet. The balance remained either unmoving where they lay, or had their bodies scattered throughout by the vicious force of the explosion.

Andr guessed that one hundred Horde remained in some semblance of fighting shape, though most bore injuries of various degrees of severity. Those closest to the blast had fared the worst, their bodies mangled beyond recognition.

Confusion reigned in the clearing. Andr was unsteady as he wobbled to his feet, his eyes watching the Horde, his sword in hand. Before their attack could refocus on him, the blackened warriors began dropping, one at a time, in rapid succession. Those who had only just regained their footing were wrenched from their feet from the force of the arrows that harried them from their right.

The disorganization of the Horde waned quickly and the remaining fighters turned to face the unseen archers on their flank. The rapid assault of the arrows ceased as the Horde regained order, forming a line facing into the attack.

A pair of shadows exploded out from the burning tree line at their heels. Eddies of flame, sparks and smoke trailed in their wakes. With their attention focused on the threat of arrows from the right, the newcomers caught the lanky fighters of the Horde woefully unprepared for the ferocity of their surprise assault.

Through the low light afforded by the fires, Andr struggled to make out the details of the action transpiring before him. The speed of the shadowed attackers was painfully fast and brutally efficient. The details blurred as they moved from one target to the next.

He struggled to follow their vastly differing fighting styles although the damage was telling. The severed appendages and heads that followed the strikes of one of the warriors bore the telltale sign of a blade. The second hefted a warhammer the likes of which he'd never witnessed. Inside its arc of destruction, bodies were crushed and tossed aside with apparent ease.

Confusion and fear again erupted among the Horde. Their attention had now fully redirected to the new adversaries wreaking havoc at their heels. Of the one hundred that had survived the detonation, half were now down. The others pushed back as they stumbled over the dead attempting to mount a cohesive resistance.

A lone figure from the right darted into the fray. Precision strikes felled the Horde with lightning speed. The bladed assault incapacitated the enemies, as tendons in their legs were severed, throats slashed and organs punctured.

It was only moments before the very last member of the Horde was cut down. Its slender body was crushed under a vertical strike from the massive warhammer. Andr's hearing had returned enough to distinguish the sickening crunch of bone under brunt the devastating weapon.

As the rapid fight took place around them, Andr had worked his way in front of Ryl. He stood with his sword ready should any of the Horde redirect their attack toward them. While he was not conceited, he knew he was an excellent swordsman. It wouldn't be a stretch to place his blade in the highest echelons of skill in the entirety of the guard service. The median quality of the skill in the guards, however, was acceptable at best. After witnessing the prowess of the three warriors he realized he was drastically outclassed. In no time at all they had laid waste to a force of over one hundred.

The three converged near the center of the clearing, stepping down into the crater formed by the explosion. Outside the charred depression, the ground was thick with the bodies of the Horde. The hard, dried earth now saturated and soggy from blood. With the battle over, the movement of the three returned to a speed that Andr’s eyes were accustomed to.

He now managed to get his first real look at their saviors. Engaged in a brief conversation, each of the three wore an eerily familiar long cloak. The hood was pulled over their heads, stretching the high neck upward, hiding their faces in shadow. A single arm had been removed from each of the cloaks, highlighting the intricate tattoos on the exposed skin.

Their meeting broke after few words. The three separated as they went about their tasks. The largest of the group, carrying the warhammer, melted back into the darkness of the grove to the left. The one with the sword took to the gruesome task of dispatching any Horde that remained living. The last of the group turned toward he and Ryl, advancing with purpose, sheathing a pair of slender blades.

Andr lowered the point of his sword as the stranger approached. The incoming cloaked individual was the shortest of the three that had converged in the center of the clearing. It carried a longbow and quiver slung over the shoulder.

“Thank you,” Andr said as the figure came into earshot.

“We need to leave this place now,” came the response.

The voice that issued from beneath the shadow of the hood surprised Andr. The words were spoken with authority, though the voice was soft and kind. Its sweet, musical quality juxtaposed