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

he peered into the gloom, the light from another flame illuminated the second level above.

With all the stealth he could muster, Ryl bounded up the stairs. The wooden steps were surprisingly well constructed. Even with his enhanced agility, they voiced no groans of protest as he ascended.

The memories assailed him. How many nights had he and Elias snuck around the common house, eager for childish mischief? How many nights had the ever-present watch of Sarial captured them in the act?

Ryl froze again as he reached the second level of the barracks. Here, the first sounds of any inhabitants reached his ears. The muffled notes of animated conversation floated down the expanse of the interior hall. The noise was distant, though just how far was uncertain. They had somehow missed the commotion of his battle with their doomed comrades.

He surveyed the hall as he listened. The wall opposite from where he exited was separated by doors evenly spaced several meters apart. From his brief stay in Le’Dral’s quarters, he estimated the size to be appropriate to the spacing on the wall. Sconces inhabited the spaces between entries, though the lantern was absent from each. At the far end of the hall to his left a single lantern burned low. Its illumination was lost far before reaching his location.

As with the floor below, the upper level was nearly as dark and dreary as the lower chambers. He scoffed at the flaw in the design of the space. No windows to the outside graced the interior hallway. Though the light from the afternoon sun still brightened the world outside, the space inside the barracks was dark. The dismal streaks of light snuck in from under the gaps in the doorways facing the outer wall. Through neglect or apathy, the token force left to maintain the city had let all but a few of the lanterns fade.

Ryl’s cautious observation halted as his eyes fell on the first doorway to the left of his position. The wooden frame was marred with chips and scratches from where blades had repeatedly struck its surface. The door itself had several deep gouges that were likely made from forceful strikes from a heave axe.

He silently slipped across the hallway, reaching the damaged doorway within an instant. A chuckle from the end of the hallway echoed through the hollow passage, bouncing off the drab wooden walls. His heart skipped a beat as the sudden exultation receded to the low grumble of conversation.

The scarring on the door before him was shocking in comparison to its initial viewing. From floor to ceiling, there were scrapes and scars speaking to the innumerable blades that had bitten into its hard wood. Large chunks were missing in places. The knob to the door hung carelessly from its socket, dangling by the last remaining strip of bent metal. A sliver of space remained between the panel of the door and the jamb, as the inoperable lock could hold the door closed no longer.

The chips of wood strewn across the ground crunched as he approached. A large swath of the surface of the door was slick with an undetermined moisture.

Ryl pressed his hand against the heavy wooden panel, careful to avoid the untold liquid. He was unsurprised that the door swung inward with little effort. The hinges protested, issuing an unnatural shriek that seemed to thunder down the hall. Carefully, he slipped into the darkened room, easing the door shut behind him as he passed. For a moment, he refused to move. He waited, listening for any sign that his presence had been discovered.

The muffled voices from down the hallway continued their carousel.

Ryl was stuck with a wave of nostalgia as he entered the room, though the environs were vastly different from his last visit. Streams of diffused light entered from the window, passing through the slats in the shutters, casting thin strips of light across the floor. The captain’s casual order had been reduced to shambles, as the entirety of his domain had been ransacked. Books and papers were strewn across the floor. Tomes appeared to have been torn, shredded in pieces, for the sake of destruction alone. The large wooden desk along the rear wall had been toppled. It lay face down on the floor. Neatly arranged bookshelves were now completely devoid of their cargo, their tatters scattered around the room with wanton disregard.

Ryl disregarded the mess, as what he sought lay not amongst the mess of torn pages. To his left, the door to Le’Dral’s personal quarters hung at a dramatic angle from the frame. The single upper hinge clung desperately to the heavy wood, though he knew the fight would soon be over. The captain’s room was no less of a mess than his study. The light here was more muted, the air stuffier than the study beyond. The bed, which dominated the room, was cockeyed, the mattress hanging off the edge. Sheets were torn, spread across the floor as those who’d searched it pried for information. The wardrobe against the far wall drew his attention, hastening his approach.

The cabinet doors were partially closed, though a piece of fabric prevented them from shutting entirely. Ryl was surprised to find a well-stocked arrangement of shirts hung in neat order. Upon closer examination, the frayed threads that hung from the sleeves told of precious insignias and metals removed from the dress garments.

The shelf above seemed largely untouched. Pants were neatly stacked in piles. Tunics were folded in a tower alongside. Several plain caps rested to their right. The fabric was drab, inornate.

Perfect.

Ryl returned the solitary weapon in his hand to its holster, collecting the first pair of pants, shaking them out to view the outfit. They bore no markings or insignia of rank, yet were the plain utilitarian garb of the Cadsae Proper guard. Without wasting time, Ryl grabbed several of each, Enough for himself, Aelin and Kaep should a disguise aid their eventual retreat. Stuffing the pants, tunics and caps into the crude pack