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

veins. He cut the first down with disturbing ease. He struggled to accomplish what he knew now must be done without giving in to the growing, foreign whisper cheering for slaughter that swelled in his mind.

Two distinct, solid clanging sounds rang out from down the hall as the furthest guard dropped the buckets of water he’d fetched. He issued an uninspired yelp as he turned to flee.

Ryl sidestepped to the side, easily avoiding the halfhearted lunge aimed at his midsection. He brought his hardened right fist into the side of the man’s face, splattering a spray of blood and teeth against the wall.

His glowing blade parried a downward slash from the last of the armed guards. The momentum of the attack pitched the body of the guard forward. Ryl rotated his hand, stabbing upward. The guard’s sword clanged to the floor as the glowing blade penetrated his skull.

Ryl ripped the blade free, withdrawing his arm to avoid the torrent of blood that cascaded from the gaping wound. The final guard, having been unlimbered from the heavy buckets of water, was nearly at the end of the hall. Wind ripped around Ryl’s tattooed right arm. The resulting gust whistled as if flowed from his body, catching the fleeing guard square in the back. His body was lifted from its feet, propelled forward into the wall ahead. The sharp snapping sound was either the thick timbers of the inner wall at the intersection or the body of the fleeing guard.

Or both.

Within seconds, the battle was over. He experienced the chilling calm as the alexen in his blood cooled. A terrifying frustration lingered as the voice from within cheered the bloodshed.

It demanded more carnage.

Ryl moved carefully back toward the bath. The burning green blade provided ample light to pass over the remains of the guards. Somehow, he felt fewer effects from the attack now than when he’d slaughtered the guards who had attempted to kill him and Aelin. In both situations, he had been justified in defending himself and others. This time, his insides didn’t twist in revulsion as they had earlier.

He and the alexen had held the wicked voice at bay. The light and the heat that blossomed from the righteousness of defending one who had no means of aiding themselves had kept the hatred at bay.

Ryl stepped slowly into the darkened bath, mindful to keep the flaming blade from contact with the lantern’s fuel source that spread across the floor. Frozen in the opposite corner, exactly where she had been when he’d left only moments before, Breila remained. Her body was stationary, though she was unable to hide the quivering of her slender frame. A staccato, hollow dripping sound echoed through the small room as the drips of water and kerosene fell through the crude drain in the center of the floor.

“What are you?” she whispered.

Ryl’s laugh was low, though he tempered the reaction before more escaped.

“Hello, Breila,” Ryl said politely, bending slightly at the waist, bowing his head to the woman. “I’m happy I was able to assist you this time. I’m afraid my actions when we last met were unbecoming to the assistance you provided.”

Her eyes studied the cloaked figure before her curiously for a moment. They widened again as the true realization dawned.

“How?” the madam gasped, raising her hands to her mouth, masking the gaping expression.

“With luck, though I’m afraid it’s a story for a later time.” Ryl’s voice was kind, yet he was short with his words. He offered her his hand. “We need to go.”

He could see the hesitance as Breila slowly extended her arm. Through nothing but acquaintance, Ryl was a stranger, an enigma to her. A steady wave of death and destruction seemed to follow him wherever he went. Her reluctance, however, was only momentary. As if breaking through a mental barrier, she reached out politely for his extended right hand.

Her skin was soft, almost velvety as she closed her fingers around his. Her hand slid up his arm, wrapping around the crook of his elbow. The contact, though casual, was intimidating. Ryl moved carefully toward the room’s exit. He slowed before they crossed the threshold into the hall.

“You might care to avert your eyes,” Ryl cautioned. “I’m afraid those who sought to do you and me harm did not fare well.”

The look Breila fixed on him could have melted ice. Ryl resisted the shudder that rolled through his body.

“Young man, I am not as dainty as I may now look,” she said calmly, yet Ryl could feel the fire smoldering underneath at the insinuation. “I have seen more cycles, more death, faced more misery than you could have imagined. I will not be swayed by a little blood.”

Ryl admired the woman. He was embarrassed by the unintended slight his words had caused.

“Aye,” was all he could muster as he continued forward, turning left as they exited the room.

She gasped.

“Andr?” she whispered. Her voice was pained.

“He is well,” Ryl replied. “He is hidden and safe.”

She giggled in response.

“Andr is never truly safe,” she muttered. “Destruction follows him. I see his influence on you.”

A few steps down the darkened alley, Ryl paused again, slipping from her grasp.

“His influence has been life changing,” he admitted. “I’m afraid I have developed my own knack for trouble independently. Wait here a moment.”

Ryl retreated down the hall, pausing just outside the doorway to the bath. Reaching over the slumped body of the guard, he collected the unbroken lantern from the floor.

He tapped into the speed that flowed in his veins as he tossed the lantern in the air several meters before his body. The fragile device twisted slowly as it floated. Ryl had let the wind swell around his right arm until it whipped the tail of his cloak out from behind his legs. He slashed with the Leaves across his body while releasing the torrent of air. An arc of green flame lanced forward, striking the lantern in the reservoir.

The explosion of light was blinding. For an instant