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

A bandage was wrapped tightly around his neck, covering both brands. They'd dabbed a section in the blood of a slab of meat Geshill had purchased from the butcher in Milstead. The stain, now lightly soaked through, would be believable evidence of an injury. One which might garner a few extra looks, but no undue attention.

Security in Cadsae Proper had been an immediate concern for the advanced scouting trip. With painstaking care, Aldren had created a forged writ of absolution for Ryl in the event that they were stopped and questioned. Andr assured them that the occurrence would be unlikely as the city was far more interested in the festivities that would soon be unfolding across its domain. The thought of the joyous, carnival like atmosphere that descended upon it for the Harvest was revolting.

He'd seen the celebrations atop the Palisades firsthand far too many times. He witnessed the feral, nearly uncontrollable glee of the sponsors bubble over into hoots and wails of emotion as their long-awaited prize was finally paraded before their eyes.

The traffic on the road grew heavier as they neared the eastern entrance to Cadsae Proper. Citizens of all walks of life shared the path; in all likelihood, their purpose for traveling to the port city was the same. The volume of traffic on the road was daunting.

Nobles, dressed in their finery, ringed by well-armed guards and retainers pushed their carriages through the throng of people that had begun clogging the road. Merchants, their wagons dusty and tired from miles of travel worked desperately to hawk their wares. Small groups of poorly clothed workers ambled by. The excited notes of their conversations were sickening. They knew not what they were cheering for.

Ryl felt the pit open in his stomach as they passed a small family. The father was walking in the lead pulling a weary, old mule that carried his wife and young boy. The look of pure joy written across the face of the child as he gleefully reveled in the surrounding excitement turned Ryl’s stomach. He shook his head as he swallowed the bile that had escaped his gut.

The boy appeared nearly old enough for his own Ascertaining.

Did they know what they were cheering for?

Ryl pulled his horse to a stop along the side of the road. The throng of travelers continued by, their eyes set on the event that lured them in from all across Damaris. Andr slowly worked his way back through the crowd, wading upstream against the flow of humanity. He stopped alongside Ryl’s horse.

“What’s wrong?” the mercenary asked.

The dreaded tendrils of doubt, of apprehension, of fear began to squeeze their way into his senses.

How could they hope to affect any change with the numbers that still believed the tributes were a curse, a stain on the pure society they revered?

“Do you think the Kingdom’s ready?” Ryl asked quietly. “Do you think these people are ready for change?”

His eyes paused momentarily on the face of the joyous child as he surveyed the scene around him. The boy smiled, an unrestrained grin that spread from ear to ear as he waved with jubilant fervor. Ryl exhaled a deep, defeated breath. His shoulders slumped, and his head lowered.

Andr scrutinized the faces of the crowd that pushed steadily onward.

“You know as well as I that one act will not sway the minds of all,” Andr cautioned. “All those here are a product of generations before them, who’ve lived knowing nothing different. Whether they change their minds now or not, it’s immaterial. They need to see the truth, Ryl.”

Ryl raised his head, meeting the eyes of the mercenary. There was a fire burning in them the likes of which he hadn’t seen. They’d known each other for a relatively short amount of time in the grand scheme of things, yet their travels had brought them past the edge of the world and back. They’d survived the sea’s fury, the abominations of the Outlands and the forgotten horrors of the mountain’s depths. Ryl knew he’d have perished without the steadfast determination of the mercenary.

His friend.

The conviction in Andr’s eyes washed any last residue of the lingering doubt from his mind.

“The truth they will see, my friend,” Ryl acknowledged. “Thank you for saving me, Andr. On more occasions that I care to count. Thank you for bringing me back from the brink.”

Andr looked thoroughly surprised by the statement, though the start of a smile flashed across his face.

“I think we’re about even in those regards,” he admitted. “That first time, in Tabenville, I couldn’t rightfully explain it, yet something drew me to you. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. I’ll follow you to the end, Ryl.”

Andr reached out clapping him on the shoulder. He wheeled his horse, aligning it with the direction of the traffic, toward the sprawling city in the distance.

“We need to make haste. I’m afraid few choices for lodging will remain,” Andr said.

Ryl nodded in reply, following the mercenary as he spurred his horse onward toward the city.

He meant every word of what he’d said. He’d have been lost without the steadfast support of the mercenary. He was lucky to have a friend of his caliber.

The road ahead wandered over the flat terrain in roughly a westerly direction. The slow curves and swells never traveled far from the edge of the water to the south. Ahead, the torches of the vast, spreading city had already begun flickering on in many places; illuminating pinpoints of light in the fading illumination of the day.

Ryl had never the opportunity to see much of the city prior to now. Cadsae Proper stretched well beyond the end of the Palisades that loomed over them like a shadow. Around the outskirts of the city a second wall, nowhere near the height or width of the Palisades, had attempted to establish a boundary. In many places, the narrow barrier had failed to stop the sprawl of humanity. The houses