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

sudden wave of emotion. He stepped forward, distancing himself from the group behind him. Another wave of chills rushed through Ryl. The unfettered air of superiority that the man exuded from his every pore reminded him of Master Delsith.

The man appeared to be in his early to mid-twenties and was of average height. His athletic build and his aggressive posture spoke to his unending confidence in his fighting prowess. His wavy, dark hair was slicked back, his face framed by a neatly trimmed beard. His eyes, colorless in the dim light of the street held the same familiar scorn.

“That's right. How could I forget?” he spat sarcastically, spreading his arms out wide in mock concession. “Damaris’ unwanted orphans. Raised by the herd then, eh?”

Now it was Ryl’s turn to bristle with anger. He could feel the inferno brewing in his body as the heat of the fire surged through his veins. At the same time the hurt from old wounds he’d thought long since suppressed ached anew. Kaep stepped in front of him, breaking his focus … and the blood in his veins cooled.

“Let us carry on, they're not worth wasting the energy,” Kaep said as she turned her back to the group, casually pulling Ryl with her. The caustic remarks and jeers followed them as they continued down the alley.

He'd grown a thick skin throughout the cycles, and venomous words typically flowed off him like water. The words tonight, however, burned with an uncommon sting. In his heart he had hoped that Vim would be entirely different, that within her walls he'd be free from the irrational animosity and misguided hatred he'd come to recognize as commonplace. The realization of his own naivete was sobering. The hatred of something different, something unexplainable and misunderstood, was universal.

“Mind him not, Ryl,” Kaep said, flashing him a forced smile. “There are some that will say or do anything purely to spark your response. I saw that look in your eyes. I felt the fire.”

“Who is he?” Ryl asked, changing the subject.

“His name is Nielix,” Kaep sighed. “He is the vocal figurehead for the growing group among us that wish to see our return to the world. He believes the prophecy is nothing more than a farce to keep us in isolation.”

Kaep cast a glance back over her shoulder. Though a few insults were lobbed in their direction, the party remained where they stood. Her statement was heartfelt, yet Ryl detected a hint of apprehension in her voice, as if there was more to the story than she was admitting.

“In his mind, it is with sword and brute strength that we should make ourselves known to Damaris,” she continued. “His skills with a blade are among the finest the Vigil has ever seen.”

In leaving The Stocks, he thought he'd finally left behind the unwarranted hatred. The reality struck a reeling blow to his new-found freedom. His situation had been altered dramatically, given a breathtakingly beautiful facelift, yet in the end, the attitudes were startlingly similar.

The pair walked onward in contemplative silence. Even at his sluggish pace, they covered the remaining distance rapidly.

“They don’t know the true extent of what the phrenic are capable of, do they?” Ryl questioned. Kaep stopped abruptly. He turned his head, their eyes met. Her face was flushed with a pained smile.

“No, Ryl. They do not,” Kaep confessed. “They have legends from the phrenics of old. All are aware that a wealth of knowledge was lost as a result of the Barren. During those dark cycles, it was decided that the survival of the city could never again be reliant on the enhanced abilities of the phrenics. The martial training that every citizen maintains had always been a facet of life, yet it became a priority at that point. As you will soon learn, our training carries on in secret. We are forbidden from discussing the true nature of our skills.”

“Do you not fear retribution if your deceit is discovered?” Ryl asked cautiously.

“Yes, that is a legitimate concern,” Kaep said with a sigh. “The phrenics of old served the people as we do today. Though our duties keep us removed from the city frequently, in Vim we are farmers, we are artists, we are intellectuals.”

“What are you?” Ryl inquired.

“A tale for another day, I suppose,” Kaep said as she slowly backed away.

“Goodnight, Ryl.”

Chapter 32

Ryl had fallen asleep quickly. His exhausted body demanded succor. It was through sheer, stubborn will that he hadn’t asked Kaep for help walking during the final stretch to his residence. Andr’s arrival in the middle of the night had gone unnoticed, yet the mercenary was already up when Ryl woke. The sun had yet to crest over the mountains though the sky was beginning to show signs of its arrival.

“Good morning, Ryl,” Andr greeted him with a smile.

Ryl stretched with a yawn rising gingerly from his bed.

“Morning. I know the Council asked for an early start, but this is earlier than I expected,” Ryl noted.

“No. The Council may be strict, yet from all I can tell, they aren’t cruel,” Andr joked as he finished strapping his sword to his belt. “I have an early training session with the Vigil before we set out this morning. Once you’re ready, I was to inform you to head to the Hall of the Phrenic. They’ll be expecting you.”

Andr hurried from the room, leaving Ryl to dress and prepare in peace. The mercenary had left a small plate of food alongside the cup of water on the table by his bed. Ryl sat as he ate the small meal of dried sausages and bread, marveling at how sensory the process had become. The tastes, the textures, the smells of the simple fare were all heightened to a state far past what used to be their norm.

His legs felt strong after the debilitating weakness he’d encountered the previous night. In his mind lingered the fear that his strength would fail him today. Merely the act of