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

into his pack. He slipped on the extra tunic. The feeling of fabric covering his tattooed arms was unnerving. The coarse threads scratched and itched his skin. The security of the absent cloak was felt immediately. He felt the eyes of the madam on him, studying his features before she pulled the borrowed shirt down over her head.

“So young,” she noted as an aside. “Much like Andr, yours is a face I’ll never forget.”

Ryl pulled the uniform pants over his regular trousers, tucking the shirt in before turning to help Aelin. The youngster was struggling as he was swallowed by the much larger clothing of a full-grown man. Though his strength could likely rival any, his frame was still very much that of a child.

Breila moved to assist the young tribute. She reached a hand to her head, removing a thick wooden pin that held the remainder of her hair aloft. Long silver locks rained down, coming to a stop as they brushed her shoulder. She deftly fashioned the pin to hold the oversized pants at Aelin’s waist before moving to the cuffs of his legs, then arms.

“What is this place?” Ryl quizzed as she finished securing the clothes on Aelin, however temporary they might be. His disguise would surely fail under close inspection, yet from a distance would likely hold up. As oversized as it was, at least it would be easy to remove again if they were forced to move by foot.

“There are various meeting places like this nestled throughout the city,” she replied. “They have many uses. Some are haunts for the clandestine; others, a place to be hidden from the prying eyes of the city.”

“And you know them all.” Ryl’s comment was meant as a statement, not a question. Breila’s grin was all he needed for confirmation.

“They were plentiful in the East Ward. In fact, you and Andr rested in one, if I recall correctly,” she mused. The cramped quarters they’d shared had been a welcome shelter. Her expression turned dismal; her eyes haunted as she continued. “There were many hidden among the Ward. Through all its grime and filth, vagrants and criminals, there were good people there. Maklan’s soldiers have been slaughtering any who question them. Any who they suppose might express sympathies to the plight of the tributes. They are burning families alive in their homes.”

She tried to catch the final words before they escaped her lips. Her sorrowful eyes darted to Aelin before returning to Ryl.

“’Tis alright,” the youngster comforted, though his eyes glistened with rage. Ryl was fascinated as his irises appeared to take on a crystalline appearance. The hardened gaze faded as quickly as it had come. “I’m well accustomed to their barbaric treatments.”

She reached down and jostled his hair with her hand.

“Braver than one so young should ever be forced to be,” she whispered. “The East Ward is lost. There was little forethought and less care in the construction to prevent the fires from razing it to the ground. Here in the city square, the houses are primarily stone. Further west, the mansions will survive without a thought given to the fires that ravage the desperate. The guards should be fewer as we move in that direction, though private security is to be given a wide berth. They’ll not likely interfere with any dressed as soldiers.”

She straightened herself up, tucking in the tunic before neatly folding her hair into the cap to complete the disguise.

“If they bring your friend anywhere, it will be to the garrison,” she interjected. “It is there the king now holds court.”

“How do you know this?” Ryl quizzed. “Could they have not moved her out of the city, or perhaps the port?”

“Men can have loose lips when plied by someone with the right means of motivation.” She flashed a seductive smile and a wink. “Though his coming was done without fanfare, there were still those with knowledge. A few sycophants who live and die by his scraps knew of his travel in advance of the army.”

The assessment made sense even in the best of times. The garrison was well defended on one side by the river while the other butted up against the inhospitable wilds of the Outlands. It was general knowledge that nothing had moved inside the wasteland for a millennium.

Ryl couldn’t help but ponder the timing of it all. The resurgence of the Horde. They massed in numbers unseen by the guardians of Vim. They penetrated the still sanctuary of the forest, led by a shadowed, cloaked figure. The similarities between the Lei Guard and the mysterious apparition were haunting.

If it was true, why would the Horde bow before the Lei Guard?

Ryl scanned the area again with his mindsight. Aside from the young tribute a meter away, there was no sign of any additional disturbance. Though his vision was clear, he couldn’t help but feel the strange pull toward the west. There was a gravity that drew him in that direction. He closed his eyes, forcing his inner vision further afield.

The disorienting sensation nearly rocked him from his feet. Though nothing had shown, the impression was concrete. The feeling was similar to that of the nexus. Just as the stone circle was the focal point between life on one side and death on the other, the west mirrored a similar duplicity. It was as if the light struggled against the darkness in a battle of complete supremacy.

There was no middle ground. No grey area.

He needed to be closer.

He needed to see if she was there.

“Who are the soldiers on the boats?” Aelin interrupted his thoughts with the question.

“I honestly do not know,” Breila answered. “I’ve not seen them up close, yet theirs is a uniform I don’t recognize. Though I admit, my knowledge of the houses is not without flaw.”

Ryl nodded as he shook the unsettling feeling from his mind.

“At the moment, who they are matters not. Like all, they will soon need to make a choice. They will soon need to choose sides,”