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

help me on the road and then again on the pier in Tabenville?” he asked meekly.

Andr paused his absent-minded stirring of the fire, pivoting to look Ryl in the eyes. His expression carried an unexpected intensity that burned into him.

“There were multiple reasons, Ryl,” Andr grumbled with an unexpected force. “The foremost being the system of tributes is wrong. How many tributes in The Stocks are nothing more than children?”

He tossed the stick he'd been using to stir the fire into the flames. A small plume of sparks floated to the ceiling of the small shelter.

“I've done things I'm not proud of, skirted a fine line between morality and depravity far too often,” Andr admitted. “But even I have my limits.”

Chapter 3

After finishing their meager meal of carrots, Ryl accompanied Andr to check on the simple traps he'd set around the small pool of water. The light of the day was fading rapidly, and they were hesitant to remain outside after darkness descended upon the Outlands. Small game had crossed their path throughout the day. Ryl clung to the hope in Andr’s cautious optimism that the traps would provide them with fresh meat. The mercenary pointed out the telltale tracks of a hare in the soft soil surrounding the pool.

Andr had set up two simple deadfall traps in a narrow corridor following the small game trails leading away from the water. Neither had sat long, and both remained unsurprisingly empty. Andr hastily instructed Ryl in the basics of setting up the traps, promising to elaborate on the morrow.

With the remaining light nearly gone, Ryl collected as much wood and tinder as he could scrounge up for their fire. Andr used his sword to hack off several of the smaller leafy low-hanging branches.

“What are those for?” Ryl asked curiously.

“It will be crude, yet we’ll use these to make a door or sorts,” Andr replied.

Andr’s patience was admirable. Though their conversations had been short, Ryl had bombarded the mercenary with a veritable river of questions that flowed from his mouth. The seasoned soldier graciously shared his lessons, teaching with a patient understanding, adding a drop to the empty bucket that summarized Ryl’s real world education.

Reaching their enclosure, Andr weaved the twisted branches into a single loose sheet with deft precision. He leaned the flimsy panel over the opening to their enclosure. Aside from the muted glow from their small fire, their presence would be hidden from view.

“You should get rest,” Andr said after taking a step back to inspect the hastily constructed cover to their shelter. “We’ll sleep in shifts. I'll take first watch.”

He slid the thin wall of branches to the side. As Ryl passed by, Andr patted him encouragingly on the back. The mercenary followed him inside, repositioning the screen behind him.

The toils of the last several days had left Ryl exhausted. His body ached from the abuse it had taken during the stormy retreat from Lord Eligar's frigate. His legs burned from exertion as Andr had maintained a steady pace throughout the day. They traveled fast over the clear terrain and labored to make headway through the unavoidable thorny brush that covered so much of the foreign landscape.

Ryl lay his head on his small pack, wrapping his phrenic cloak tightly around his body. He was eager for the opportunity to sleep. The light outside had faded leaving only the flickering of their fire.

“Sleep well, my friend,” Andr whispered from his position near the entrance. He’d turned his head slightly toward Ryl though his vision remained trained outside, scanning for any sign of movement.

The night was devoid of noise. Aside from occasional quiet crackle from the fire and Andr's steady breathing, there was no sound from outside their shelter. No chirping of insects, no wind rustling through the trees, only silence.

Ryl had walked as a free man for a day. He’d nearly lost sense of the momentousness of the occasion. The strenuous nature of their current course along with the burden that had landed squarely on his shoulders dampened his enthusiasm. He’d also yet to shake the ever-present sensation of being watched. The residual effect of the constant surveillance that accompanied nearly every moment of his previous life inside The Stocks haunted him still. In time he hoped the feeling would fade.

He closed his eyes to rest, inhaling a deep, calming breath. The pent-up tension from the day’s trek flowed out with the air from his lungs. Ryl peered into the darkness with his phrenic mindsight. A pinpoint of black streaked across the picture in his mind. Unlike the telltale, glowing sign of the phrenics or tributes, the void that appeared was there one moment then gone the next. Ryl focused, searching farther and farther, yet the phenomenon never repeated.

For a moment, his heart thundered in his chest as he strained his ears listening for any sound from the night beyond. As the time passed, his heart rate slowed; all remained still outside their earthen cavern. He chalked the vision up to an effect of his extreme exhaustion.

Ryl rolled to his side, quickly falling asleep.

A gentle shake of his leg woke Ryl from a dreamless slumber. The mercenary greeted him, stifling a yawn with the back of his hand.

“It's your watch now,” Andr said quietly.

Ryl stretched as he rose sluggishly, moving to take up the position Andr had just vacated.

“Stay inside the cave. Do not leave without me,” Andr warned Ryl. “It's been silent all night, and that's what concerns me. Never spent a night outside that's this quiet. We've seen enough small game throughout the day, yet not a single hint of anything larger. Either there's nothing here, or it stays well hidden.”

Andr unbundled this sword and sheath, handing them to Ryl. In all his cycles, he'd never laid a hand upon a sword. He flinched as the memories from his childhood assaulted his senses.

He remembered the valiant battles he'd waged against the trees bordering his family's small home. The knock of wood