Ghosts of the Erlyn (Catalyst Book 3) by C.J. Aaron (books like beach read .TXT) 📕

Andr were far from complacent. Ryl scanned frequently with the mindsight, scouring the surrounding area for any sign of tribute or Lei Guard. Andr’s eyes were in a constant state of alert, darting across the landscape for any indication of disturbance.

The pair paused shortly after midday, allowing their mounts to stop for a spell near the bank of a narrow stream. Ryl quickly rummaged through his pack, chewing hungrily on a thin strip of dried meat he’d brought for the trip. He leaned against the side of a thin tree, his eyes taking in the views of the horizon.

Ryl guessed they’d covered over half the distance from Milstead to Cadsae Proper. From their location, the gently rolling hills to the west rose up overhead, blocking the view of the oppressive wall. The jagged, rocky tips of the Haven Mountains still towered over them in the far distance.

Anticipation and nervousness were growing rapidly. There was no turning back from the course they’d set themselves upon. There were still so many variables yet to be ascertained. They needed all the information that they could gleam from the city to fill in the gaps.

A muffled crunch in the loose gravel of the roadway signaled Andr’s approach from behind. Ryl pushed himself back from the tree, turning to greet the mercenary.

“Let’s make haste. It would be wise to find lodging before nightfall. The city will be far busier than normal with the upcoming Harvest,” Andr said encouragingly.

Ryl could feel the eagerness pulsing from the battle-hardened mercenary. He could sense the longing pouring out of him with every beat of his heart. For Ryl, it was the freedom of all tributes that drove him forward; that steered him with a magnetic pull that could not be denied.

For Andr, it was only one. His son, Cray.

They collected their horses, quickly easing them back into a canter, leaving the bank of the stream behind. The road in front of them ran uphill, a gradual slope that extended for several hundred meters. Andr rode a few lengths ahead of him, slowing his horse to a stop at the peak of the rise.

To the south, the green fields and scattered forests ended in an unbroken line of blue. The Sea of Prosper stretched out before them, from turquoise waters near the shore to the deep blue at the point where it met the horizon. The contrast in the rich cerulean shades of the sea to the azure of the sky was startling.

Following the shore from east to west, Ryl noted the few scattered villages spread out along the banks of the water. His heart skipped a beat when his eyes fell on the sprawling city in the west.

Cadsae Proper.

The port city was vast, spreading out for several miles along the edge of the sea. The most densely populated area, and most well defined in terms of construction, was centered around the corner of the wall, where the massive eastern palisade met its southern counterpart. Less than half a mile separated the edge of the wall from the sea. The southern stretch of the city was sandwiched between water and stone like the jaws of a vise. Further west, beyond the Pining Gate, the distance between wall and sea widened, to a point of nearly a mile across where it met the edge of the river that bisected The Stocks.

On the opposite banks stood a large stone complex, connected by a single stone bridge. The terminal garrison; the last bastion outside of the safety of the top of the palisade. The last settlement of mankind. The farthest outpost they’d dare settle in the wastes of the Outlands.

From their vantage, the eastern palisade filled a third of the horizon as it stretched from the city to the mountains in the north. The flattened tops of the guard towers stood above the wall in even succession, marking the waypoints for the patrolling guards.

A single sliver of green extended out from the inside of The Stocks. Ryl recalled the hill at Thayers Rest. He’d begrudgingly tended the crops there only days before his encounter with Da’agryn. Days before the world he knew was turned upside down.

He chuckled to himself as he thought of how dramatically his life had changed since then.

His originally planned Harvest was now in less than three days. It was a curious thing that while he was inside The Stocks, he longed for time to slow. The torture, the labor, the animosity, were in a sense better than the unknown of the Harvest. It was preferred to be among the comfort of friends than the lonely prospects their future held. That reality was all the tributes knew. Now on the outside, he begged for the days to shorten. Every falling of the sun marked the end of another day. One less day before the tributes would be free.

Ryl felt a wave of nausea roll over him as the visions of the processing facility flashed into his mind. He could still smell the sickening stench of refuse, excrement and death. It was one he knew would linger in his senses unforgettably. He felt the familiar heat rising in his veins; his hands balled into fists. His fingernails dug into his hardened skin as he squeezed them together with a fury that burned white hot.

He searched the horizon one last time, eager to drink in the view again. Ryl turned to the side, finding his friend’s eyes regarding him. The look on Andr's face was one of understanding. A crooked smile tugged up slightly on the mercenary’s lips.

“There they are, Ryl. Cadsae Proper. The Stocks,” his voice was rigid, yet Ryl could feel the underlying emotion struggling to break through.

“Welcome back to where it all began, my friend.”

Chapter 15

The steady gusts of wind picked up as the made their way ever closer to the coast. The cool breeze off the sea carried the hint of brine and dampness in the air. Ryl pulled the hoods of both cloaks