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

of the door. The door shifted slowly at first. Its heavy metal hinges thundered their disapproval. With a second heave, the gap opened wide enough for a horse and rider to slip through.

With a kick, Breila and Aelin were off through the gap. Ryl mounted his beast and gave chase.

The grand view of the sprawling city before him was lost in the gravity of the moment. Their horses thundered across the open square. To the left, the barracks belched smoke from every open window. Flames poured from the doorway, crawling up the exterior wall.

Ryl would have expected shouts of alarm and panic from the forces manning the fort, yet the square and avenue ahead were eerily quiet.

They crossed the square in an instant. Ryl’s head was on a swivel, watching for any sign of danger from the wall behind or the avenue ahead. The last he’d seen the cobblestone street, it was clogged with a jam of people and wagons. Revelers, merchants and carriages alike had gathered to celebrate the momentous annual Harvest. Colored flags and banners of the great houses privileged enough to purchase the right to a tribute had swung carefree from windows. A carnival spirit had hung in the air.

It had sickened him.

The avenue now was deserted. Shreds of torn cloth, stained from being trampled underfoot, lay strewn across the roadway. Bits of torn paper and refuse blew across the street as it was lifted by the winds from the sea. The atmosphere felt heavy and oppressive. All festive feelings that had been present on the eve of the Harvest were smothered by the weight of tension.

Ryl found it hard to feel even the slightest shred of remorse at the dynamic swing in emotions. The practice they had celebrated was abhorrent.

Though none were on the street, Ryl could sense the eyes watching them from behind darkened curtains. Unlike the ever-watchful sensation that he’d grown accustomed to as a result of living in the shadows of the palisades, this was different. The palisades had presented a heft, a discomforting regulation that was smothering. All he experienced now was an overwhelming sense of uncertainty.

In the distance, floating on the rolling azure waters of the sea, a host of large vessels clogged the port. Many still were anchored beyond the breakwater. Boats laden with soldiers rowed ashore.

Had a contingent of the king’s army reached Cadsae Proper already? Or had one of the houses sent troops in support of their host?

Breila angled her horse to the right, slowing as she exited into the first alley leading to the west. Ryl was familiar with the narrow passage, having stalked the corridor while familiarizing himself with the city. Though he knew a few of the streets and avenues leading to the tavern where he’d tracked Le’Dral, he was loath to admit that he knew little of the disposition of the city in this direction. He followed as his guide made a quick right before another immediate left into an alley barely wide enough to fit the muscular horses. A pile of small crates leaning against the corner of a building were an unintended casualty of their flight. An oozing viscous substance spread out from the wreckage.

There was little room to maneuver around the piles of cartons, scraps of wood, and general debris that clogged their passage. The air thickened with the stench of refuse. The lower portion of the stone foundations of the buildings were slick with dark green and black growth. Without warning, the alley opened into a crude veranda of sorts.

The path forward terminated as it reached the solid wall ahead. A similarly clogged, thin exit led from the right of the opening. Breila slowed her horse to a stop.

Formed by the backs of several buildings, the modest square they found themselves in was less than five meters wide. Though there should have been more avenues leading from the area, the clearing seemed to be purposefully designed. The first floor of each of the buildings was nondescript, all being constructed of large slabs of stone and brick. All were unmarred by windows or doors save one. Small ledges dotted the second floor, though clothing and lines hung from various wires covered much of the opening.

The sun, leaning heavily to the west as it continued its descent, cast the wall before them in heavy shadows. Overhead, the cloth and apparel blotted out easy viewing from the windows of the floors above. Ryl looked at the fabric and clothing stretched along the lines, noting the discrepancy immediately.

The shirts, while they had likely been of decent quality at one point, had weathered significantly in the elements. The sheets were threadbare, stained by the ravages of time and storm. To any passerby, though few would likely find themselves here, they would have seemed benign.

Breila slid from her horse, holding the lead as she maneuvered to a hitching post set in the corner to their right. Ryl eased to the ground, his eyes and senses ever cautious of his surroundings.

“We’ll be safe here for the moment.” Breila’s voice was hushed, though Ryl doubted any in the floors above would have overheard. Though they’d taken the ill-used back alleys to their destination, the city maintained an eerie vacancy. Ryl knew that untold thousands lived within the sprawling confines of Cadsae Proper, yet aside from the few guards they’d entombed in the barracks, the city was a ghost town. The people, like insects, seemed to have scurried away, hiding from a threat larger than themselves.

Was it the king they feared? Was it the rampaging guards left behind by Lord Maklan?

Was it something else?

“We are indebted to your sense of direction, Breila.” Ryl thanked her as he pulled his pack from off his shoulders. He tossed a pair of pants and a tunic to Aelin, following with a second pair for the madam. He had only thought to grab a pair of hats. He would be fine to go without.

Ryl wasted no time removing his cloak, carefully tucking it