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

against wood rang in his ears. His hands stung as the vibration from the impacts of his wooden sword against the trunks radiated up his arms.

He remembered walking through the market square with his father. Although his father had never entertained his pleading, Ryl had always wanted to see the swords; their blades polished to a brilliant shine, displayed for all to see—a most enticing lure for young, impressionable boys.

“You've never held a sword before, have you?” Andr asked intuitively. “Can't see the guard letting you train with steel in The Stocks!”

Andr pulled the weapon from its sheet with an audible ring. He turned the blade over in his hands instinctively, scanning the surface for any blemishes or chips as if inspecting it for the first time.

“Starting tomorrow, I'll teach you the basics,” Andr proclaimed. “For tonight, just keep the pointy end away from either of us. If anything moves, wake me before you need to use it.”

Andr laid down in the space Ryl had just left. It wasn't long before the steady, rhythmic breaths told Ryl that the mercenary was asleep. Ryl peered through the gap between their makeshift door and the rock wall beside him. The sky was clear; the light from the moon and stars illuminated the sparse grove before him in a pale orange glow.

In his mind, lurking behind every gnarled tree was a monster. Creeping within every shadow an unknown terror waited for him to drop his guard. The sensation of unseen eyes watching him made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

He searched for any sign of the black void he thought he’d tracked earlier. There was no movement. The grove outside remained still and eerily silent.

Ryl lost track of time as he scanned the trees, watching and listening for signs of motion. The thunder of his apprehensive heartbeat and the sound of their breathing were the only noise to break the quiet of the night.

Andr rolled over before sitting up, stretching as he made his way to Ryl’s side.

“Did I miss anything?” he asked rhetorically.

“Not a thing,” Ryl yawned. “Not once did a single sound break the silence. It's not normal. It feels wrong.”

“Aye, Ryl. It isn't right,” Andr agreed in a whisper. “There's something wholly off with this land.”

The mercenary collected the sword from Ryl, strapping it naturally to his hip. He surveyed the quiet grove for a moment, his watchful eyes taking in every detail. The slightest hint of color was beginning to lighten the sky far off to the east.

“Rest again while you can, I'll take it from here. Great work tonight, Ryl,” Andr said appreciatively before continuing his earlier train of thought. “Count quiet nights like this as a bonus. I assure you; it won’t always be this easy.”

Andr took up his seat by the door, his eyes returning to their diligent patrol of the grove beyond.

“You can’t let complacency ruin your options when something happens. It’s how you prepare that makes the difference,” Andr explained. “It takes more effort to stay focused on nights when the world is quiet than in the thick of action.”

Ryl nodded his head in agreement before laying again by the remains of the fire. His mind continued its questioning. What was that black shape that had flashed in his mindsight? Was there something out there, or was it a figment of his imagination? Could the side effects from the lack of treatment already be running their course?

He cringed at the prospects.

Only time would tell.

Chapter 4

Although Andr had let him sleep, Ryl still woke early as he’d grown accustomed to doing. The habit, conditioned throughout his cycles in The Stocks, would be a tough one to break.

With high hopes, they checked the small traps. Their disappointment was palpable as both were empty. Pulling all the carrots they could gather, they returned to their ramshackle camp, carefully rationing out their supply of root vegetables. The prospect of surviving on the bland, gritty vegetables alone was undesirable, yet at the moment, they had little option. Andr sectioned off an adequate supply for the rest of the day in the event they failed to turn up more substantial food.

They broke camp, disassembling their crude door, scattering the limbs before burying the remains of their fire.

“Are you worried we're being followed?” Ryl quizzed.

Andr looked up from smoothing the soil over the remains of the concealed embers.

“Not at the moment,” he answered. “It's fairly safe to assume that no one from The Stocks would be searching for us here. Regardless, it can never hurt to be too careful.”

Andr rose, wiping the dirt off his legs as he gained his feet. The burnt-orange soil left noticeable stains on his pants where his knees had rested on the ground. He motioned for Ryl to follow him.

“Something about this place still doesn’t sit well with me,” Andr said, rubbing his hand absently on the back of his neck. “I can’t place why, but even the air here feels wrong.”

The mercenary led the way to a small clearing off to the side of their shelter. Scattered patches of short orange grass covered the ground around their feet. To this point, their views of the Outlands had been bleak. The sprawling expanse looked as if it had been the victim of a massive fire, one that razed the entire landscape, the green vegetation having never made a recovery.

Drawing his sword, Andr went through a brief, well-rehearsed set of warm-up exercises. Ryl marveled at the fluid movements of the mercenary as he danced between positions. Although he fought with only one sword, his movements reminded Ryl of the style he’d experienced through Caprien, though nowhere near the speed of the phrenic master. Ryl struggled against an overpowering urge to draw the Leaves and spar with the mercenary. Through sheer power of will alone, he quashed the mounting impulse.

Ryl had never told Andr the true nature of the Leaves. Although he’d displayed a hint of the speed on