The Defiance of Vim (Catalyst Book 4) by C.J. Aaron (graded readers txt) 📕

With a wave of his right hand, Ryl unleashed a small gust of wind down the tormented hallway. He ignited the Leaves in his left hand, providing the illumination to progress carefully into the pathway. He hurried forward, following closely in the wake of the wind. He enjoyed the remnants of the fresh air, eagerly striding down the hall. His vision was focused ahead, cautious to avoid viewing the dismembered and disemboweled bodies strewn across its interior.

Ryl paused as he reached the corner. With his shoulder against the edge of the wall, he paused for a moment, listening for noises from the tunnel beyond. From experience, he knew that the pathway led into the barracks beyond. There was a small shower room stationed off to the right, but the rest was a mystery.

The pathway ahead was silent. He let the glowing blade falter, casting the pathway in darkness as it extinguished.

For a few moments he stood still. Listening.

Waiting.

Convinced that none waited in hiding for his approach, Ryl eased out from around the corner. As he recalled, there was a solitary door between his position and the next junction of the path. The heavy metal panel stood ajar, as it had in his memory. A torch burned somewhere at the end, spilling its wavering light into the hallway beyond. He could see darkened rectangular shadows along each side of the wall, signifying doorways leading into the barracks or other rooms beyond.

Ryl eased out into the hallway. The wind swelled silently around his right arm, waiting for its chance to be released. The fingers of his opposite hand twitched in anticipation. The Leaves remained dormant, though their willingness to ignite was potent.

His footsteps were hushed as he progressed deeper into the barracks. In truth, Ryl knew virtually nothing of the disposition of the building’s interior. His brief introduction to the captain in the foyer had lasted but moments. From there he’d seen no more than the scant shower room before he was led through the tunnel to The Stocks beyond. Aside from this brief glimpse, Ryl had witnessed only one other room inside the facility.

The captain’s quarters.

Ryl knew that Le’Dral’s chambers were on the second floor. From his knowledge of the layout of the building, he assumed they would be of little trouble to find. He rationalized that if the captain’s quarters were on the upper levels, the other officers or dignitaries were bound to have residences there as well. Though he might not stumble on Le’Dral’s possessions, it was likely that other officers would have more to offer in the way of disguises than did the average guard plying his trade among the open quarters of other soldiers. If he could but locate a main hallway, a stairwell would be a logically easy discovery.

He slowed, casting a side eye at every door along his path through the hall. Ryl had paused, gently testing the handle of the first several he passed. Finding each of them locked, he continued deeper into the guard station. The illumination from the torch set on the wall ahead swelled as he progressed.

Three-quarters of the way down the hall, Ryl paused at the doorway to his right. To this point, it was the only one that had been left ajar. A sweet smell of soap wafted from within. The slow but rhythmic thump of falling water resounded from its interior.

The scent brought Ryl to a standstill. The fragrance, though a distant memory, had been ingrained into his memory. His breath caught in his throat as he stumbled clumsily to a stop.

Ryl peered into the gloom of the vacant room. It was here, roughly a decade ago, that he had been led, stripped down, scrubbed with coarse brushes, and given the ill-fitting clothes that would come to define his station. The courtesy of a shower was the last, pitiful human interaction he was afforded with those who dwelled outside the walls. From that moment forward, he was no longer a boy, but a crop. A commodity to be raised and harvested like cattle. Beaten like slaves. No regard had been given to his life or comfort.

He hissed as he strode past the room. That history was behind him now. It was behind the tributes. If he could see it happen, none would ever languish in the same disparity that had befallen him or the countless others before him.

Ryl reached the terminus of the hall in a matter of paces. To his right, the light from the torch at his front spilled out the open foyer door. The slats of the window opposite his position allowed diagonal sheets of light to spill into the empty room, though it failed to reach where he was located. The air seemed to be choked with a cloud of residual smoke that hung just below the ceiling. It gave off the odor of burnt leaves and wood.

His inquisitive eyes viewed the room cautiously for a moment. It was there he’d first met Captain Le’Dral. The kind eyes of the officer had been so distinctly different from the apathetic or vengeful looks he’d grown unfortunately accustomed to seeing throughout the tumultuous journey to Cadsae Proper.

There was no hint of motion in the dim entryway. He scanned the area with his mindsight, unsurprised to see no sign of tribute or Horde aside from the modest signature of Aelin tucked safely away to his rear.

To his left, Ryl found an open hallway. A lantern burned a few meters ahead. The light travelled for some distance before merging with the glow of a second lantern further down the corridor. Doorways were spaced evenly along both sides of the hallway, though none showed any light or signs of inhabitation. With both hands at the ready, he stalked further into the interior.

His intuition was rewarded early as the first doorway down the hall to his left opened into a stairwell. The winding steps stretched upward, leading toward the second level of the barracks. As