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

The effect was poignant enough to stop him from vomiting the appalling potion.

The taste was almost as horrid as the pills that had masqueraded as his treatment. This time, however, the foul aftertaste was nothing compared to the bite of the bittersweet thoughts of Mender Jeffers and the tributes who remained in The Stocks.

Chapter 26

Ryl crumpled back into his bed. His body was drenched in sweat. His breaths came in rapid gasps. The speed of his recovery continued to eclipse the mender’s expectations, yet in his present state he regretted pushing himself as hard as he had this morning.

He’d woken from the sickness induced stupor less than two days prior. The debilitating symptoms had thankfully subsided as his body overcame the toxic treatment that had been fed to him for nearly half his young life. Ryl felt healthy for the first time in weeks and he was eager to stretch his legs and get a feel for the surrounding city. His early morning walk had set the lofty goal of completing a single lap around the city’s outer loop. In retrospect, his expectation was set far higher than the reality of the strength he possessed.

Vim was larger than Ryl had thought possible. The city was situated inside a massive natural bowl, surrounded by the sheer faces of the Haven Mountains. Two large perpendicular avenues bisected the sprawling city, forming a large central square where they intersected.

From his brief conversations with Mender Brasley, and his view from the small window of his room, he'd learned little of the city. The main north-south avenue, the Northfate, connected the solitary, gated entrance to the city in the south to the entrance to the mines on its northern edge. The avenue running east-west, the Westfate, ended in the Council Seat and Great Hall to the west; the eastern end terminated into a small park at the banks of a natural pool. A narrow waterfall that careened down the mountainside fed the pond, which ran into a large stream that traveled along the cliff face bordering the eastern and northern walls of the city.

The area to the east of the Northfate was dominated by vast fields of crops. A small army of men and women tended to the various plots of land that constituted the bulk of the diet for the inhabitants of Vim. Ryl shuddered at the sight of the swaying fields of wheat; his mind transported back to his daily assignments within The Stocks. He abhorred farming—an occupation he endeavored to leave in the past.

Ryl had made it roughly halfway around the outskirts of the city. Andr, his ever-present companion, kept pace with his shuffling strides before his fatigued body failed him. They’d started out from their residence heading eastward. The plan was to follow the paved path that circled the city starting with the fields before making their way through the more residential and business districts of Vim to the west.

It became readily apparent that his plan would be a fruitless pursuit. The pair were forced to abandon their circuit of Vim, turning back toward the south, following the Northfate through the heart of the city.

With his arm braced over the mercenary’s shoulder, Ryl and Andr shuffled their way along the eastern side of the main avenue. Attempting to avoid the bustle of the central thoroughfare was difficult. Even early in the morning, the avenue was brimming with activity.

Ryl felt overwhelmed by the drastic change in the volume of people that surrounded him. Compared to the sleepy, tortured confines of his previous home, Vim was alive with energy, activity and promise. He felt the cautious stares of the citizens. He heard their whispers of uncertainty as they stumbled past.

The curious attention and hushed conversations that followed them were far from reminiscent of the treatment he’d received in The Stocks, or in his brief parade through Cadsae Proper. There was no animosity in their voices or actions. The looks were guarded, yet sympathetic. The walls of the mountains that rose all around him, though adding a hint of claustrophobia, felt comforting compared to the shadows of the palisades he’d lived between for the last eight cycles. Andr, for his part, seemed unfazed by the commotion as they returned to the relative peace of the small, private clinic they called home.

In truth, Andr had been offered residence inside one of the sprawling underground residences hidden within the mountainside surrounding Vim. The loyal mercenary had chosen to remain by Ryl's side as he worked through his recovery. Andr spent his time in the small room across the hall from Ryl, or on the couch at the foot of his bed.

“Take care not to push your recovery before your body is ready, Ryl,” Andr warned.

Although not close to the same extent as Ryl, Andr breathed heavily. He had shouldered the bulk of Ryl's weight as they limped their way back through the city. Even as emaciated as he’d become, the added weight was still a burden.

The mercenary’s lips curved into an errant smile.

“We passed far too many people crossing the central square,” Andr remarked. “Mender Brasley's sure to hear about it.”

“Sure to hear about what?” came the booming voice of the rotund Mender from the hallway.

The mender entered through the open door to the room. A trail of steam wafted off the piping hot cup of the remedy balanced carefully on the saucer in his hands.

“You couldn't be referring to your failed attempt at making a circuit of Vim, now could you?” Mender Brasley questioned plainly. “You must think I'm daft if you imagined for one moment I'd not find out about your excursions. You two are still very much strangers here in a city that never entertains outside guests.”

The mender paused a pace from Ryl’s bed.

“For once, I do not even feel the slightest twinge of remorse for the vile concoction you must now take to hasten your