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

honest confidence and casual attitude were hard to mimic. He was known as one of the most skilled fighters in the guard service, yet his autonomy and ability to blend in were uncanny. There was a definite purpose—rather than careless drunkenness—to his current action.

Ryl reached out, grabbing Andr by the shoulder, pulling him to a stop. He leaned in close, whispering loud enough to be heard over the commotion of the room.

“I know that man,” he said, inclining his head in the direction of the intoxicated guard. “That's Cavlin. One of the captain's confidants. Something's not right.”

Ryl hurriedly scanned the crowded room. His attention was drawn again, this time, not to the man but to the group of cloaked figures that approached from his rear. They were nearly as far away as Ryl and Andr, though there was no mistaking their target.

There were six in the group, and all walked with a purpose. There was no sign of intoxication in their determined strides. Ryl picked up the glint of steel as the light bounced off a naked blade. The man in the lead had a knife held backward, the flat edge flush against the sleeve of his forearm.

“I can see. His is a face I remember well,” Andr replied. “What do you intend to do?”

Until that moment, Ryl hadn't considered a course of action. He had no intention of letting Cavlin be another casualty in the growing rift. Not like this. Not by a knife in the back from a cowardly assailant.

Not if he could help it.

Not today.

Without a word he moved in the direction of the unknowing guard, understanding Andr would follow in his wake. They moved through the crowd with an ease greater than that of the approaching party, covering nearly the full distance between themselves and Cavlin well in advance of the approaching assassins.

Ryl kept his head down to avoid the watchful eyes of the guard. He paused as they neared the edge of the, long, crowded communal table that remained between themselves and Cavlin. They halted their approach close to the center of the table. Cavlin leaned against the beam just off the opposite corner of the head of the table to their left. The approaching assassins stalked their prey from the right.

Their fractured line of attack had spread out, no longer weaving its way through the crowd like a serpent. They moved in a crude triangle; the knife wielding member at the apex. The patrons in their path parted as the formation menaced their way through the crowd.

As the stealthy assault reached the opposite end of the table to their right, Ryl whispered into Andr's ear.

“I’ll meet you out front, my friend. Stay with him,” he breathed. "Now, push me."

As soon as the words had left his mouth, Ryl wheeled suddenly around, grabbing Andr by the shoulders. A flash of confusion registered in his friend’s eyes. Ryl snarled as he yelled over the din of the crowd.

“Your son was a worthless herd,” he shouted at the mercenary.

Ryl saw the fire erupt in Andr’s eyes as the mercenary threw him forcefully toward the long table. Anticipating the action, he was able to twist his body, accentuating his forward pace with a force greater than the shove itself. As he spilled through the patrons beside the long table, he hardened the woodskin on his chest and shoulders. His body slammed into the heavy wooden furniture.

The impact was jarring. Ryl hooked his arm beneath the underside of the table, flipping it, as he allowed the momentum to carry him over. Tankards of ale toppled, shattering as they stuck the floor. Their intoxicating liquid spread outward like a flood across the filthy ground. The table and its surrounding patrons spilled to the floor.

Ryl tucked his body at the last moment, throwing himself into a controlled roll. His seemingly wild tangent carried him directly at the legs of the lead assassin. The instant his feet gained purchase on the ground, he surged forward. Leading with this shoulder, he scythed through the legs of the assassin. The man yelped in surprise as he spilled to the ground taking several of his companions with him. Through the noise, the clatter of the metal dagger on the ground was a welcomed sound.

The tavern exploded into chaos.

Drunken nerves, lubricated by the alcohol, were so easily incensed that by the time most knew a fight was upon them the identity of the perpetuator was immaterial. Ryl’s controlled feint succeeded in knocking down all but one of Cavlin's would-be killers. He sprung quickly to his feet, melting away into the melee.

Cavlin had spun round with an agility that defied his faux intoxication. His eyes narrowed as he saw the blade clatter to the ground. The sole assassin remaining on his feet whipped a knife out from inside his cloak, snarling as he leapt over one of his companions who struggled to regain their footing. Cavlin launched the nearly full tankard in his hand with pinpoint accuracy, striking the knife wielding attacker square in the face. A splash of blood mixed with the amber liquid and shards of pottery that sprayed outward from his head.

Ryl shadowed Cavlin, several steps to the side and his rear as he made for the door. The entire room was now on their feet. The sounds of breaking wood and pottery mingled with the shouts and curses as fights broke out across the tavern. Ryl moved easily amongst the rush of humanity heading for the exit. On the opposite side of Cavlin, he saw Andr duck a punch as he moved in a parallel tangent toward the door. The intensity of the riot grew in their wake.

The escaping bodies had bottlenecked for an instant as they reached the door in unison. The swelling pressure from the surging crowd behind forced them through; spreading out in a wave of humanity as they were exploded out of the tavern. There were cries of pain and surprise as several lost their footing, toppling those