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

“Ah, Ryl, you’re awake,” Brasley said with a smile. “I didn’t know if you’d be joining us today. It’s already well into the afternoon.”

Ryl suppressed an uncontrollable yawn. In the entirety of his life, he doubted he’d slept as long as he had the previous night. He mentally berated himself for having overexerted himself to such a degree. He swore to take better care not to over tax his recovering body.

“You’re late for your remedy,” Mender Brasley chided. “Ticco, please go heat it up.”

Ryl heard the hurried footsteps of the apprentice shuffle down the hall.

“Where is Andr?” Ryl asked the mender.

“Your friend had visitors this morning while you slumbered,” Brasley continued as he moved across Ryl’s room, throwing the curtains open with a startling burst of light. “Councilor Lenu came to introduce him to the captain of the Vigil. Seems she wastes no time putting an asset to use. We have thankfully never had to face a foe in open combat. She fears we grow lax.”

Ryl’s eyes noted the large pile of books and paper on the small desk along the side of the room. Brasley followed his gaze.

“Seems you had a visitor while you slumbered,” the mender chuckled. “It appears Councilor Oswill feels you’ve been lax in your studies as well.”

Ryl shuffled across the room to where the pile rested on the small table. He lifted the first book, Forgotten History of Damaris Volume 1, The Founding of Vim, surprised by its size and weight. The dismay must have been evident across his face as the mender snorted a laugh.

“I remember feeling the same as you, Ryl,” Brasley lamented. “Fear not, you’ll find it is more enjoyable than it appears.”

Ryl doubted that would be true though he smiled at the mender’s attempt, nonetheless. Ticco entered the room, both hands dutifully fixed on the saucer, careful not to spill a drop of the vile-smelling remedy. The potent aroma followed in his wake, stifling the air in the small room. He placed the saucer on the table by the head of Ryl’s bed before hastening from the room. Ryl watched him choke back a wave of nausea as he fled.

“How much longer must I endure this punishment?” Ryl asked sarcastically.

“You jest, yet it’s undoubtedly the remedy that has hastened the speed of your recovery,” the mender stated. “With that being said, the rate of your rehabilitation has been astonishingly rapid. I think another dose tonight will suffice. You should find your strength will recover with haste once the entirety of the toxin has been purged.”

“I’ll be happy to be done with it, though it’s nowhere near as vile as the treatments were,” Ryl admitted.

He couldn’t help wrinkling his nose in disgust at even the mention of the putrid treatments. Without another word, Ryl lifted the delicate saucer, downing the remedy in one gulp. The pleasant warmth of the liquid sliding down his throat was far overpowered by the nauseating flavor.

“Now that your treatment is done, let’s get you some fresh air and sunshine,” Mender Brasley declared. “I’ll bring the first of your reading. I’ve had a small table set up out front, you can relax there.”

Ryl agreed with the mender. A relief from the stench of the interior would be a pleasant respite. Fearful of the added toll of using his skills, and forced to remain resting, his mind would be starving for activity. The reading would serve as a welcome distraction.

After situating Ryl at the table that he’d set up outside of the small residence, Mender Brasley bid him farewell. The mender, with his apprentice in tow, hurried off to attend to his other duties around Vim.

Ryl was left with a moment to consider the events of the last evening. He and Andr were being welcomed openly into the city of Vim. They had asked if he was ready to formally accept his citizenship.

He would have a place to call home.

He would be accepted for who he was, not defined by the unseen compound in his blood. He would be forever removed from the hatred and struggles of the kingdom that demanded his slavery.

The news should have been uplifting, yet inside him there was a lingering regret. While he was now safe within the hidden city of Vim, in Damaris the tributes remained enslaved. Though he may call Vim his home at the moment, his place in the world was not secreted away behind the seclusion of her walls. Ryl had made a promise he would not soon abandon.

The tributes would be free.

The resolve stoked the fire that burned within his blood. He could feel the press of the power that still yearned to be unleashed. His determination was as steadfast as the walls that protected the city from the outside world.

He would see them free.

Heeding the mender’s words, and in need of distraction, Ryl plunged into the task at hand. The thick leather binding creaked as it opened. His skill as a reader was immediately put to the test, yet he forged forward, absorbing every ounce of knowledge.

The Founding of Vim began in an area that Ryl knew all too well. The original twelve phrenics had been laboring together, members of the construction detail assigned to the building of the western palisade, when an opportunity had presented itself that could not be denied. A thin strip of land had been razed through the Erlyn: a wide trench was quickly dug, severing the roots that passed beneath the ground. Stone was hastily laid to stem the perpetual advance of the forest.

A group of twelve phrenics set out from their small work camp of Westwall that morning. With the exception of one, all the phrenics were scholars; brilliantly gifted sculptors, artists and academic leaders. The remaining member of their group was a woman named Aily, an elementalist with a specialty working with stone.

The original treatments forced upon the newly incarcerated phrenics were different from the doses provided in Ryl's time. In the early cycles, the effects were dramatically more