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

of the Vigil remained frozen in terror, some had fallen to their knees; all were rent to pieces where they stood, their bodies savaged before their swords cleared their scabbards.

Ryl cursed the speed of the innate power that flowed through him. The pace of his movements was like lightning while others seemed frozen in place. He was forced to watch the horror unfold in slow motion as the Horde mutilated the bodies of the Vigil. Limbs were torn from their sockets, the skin stretching until it split in a spray of blood and gore: the sickening, crimson particulate hovering in the air.

Revulsion and anger boiled over as Ryl screamed in defiance. The life had drained from the eyes of the last of the lead group as the harrier severed his head from his body. The fire inside Ryl’s veins swelled to an inferno. From under the cover of the tree and opposite side of the hill, distorted bodies flowed over the pristine landscape like a flood of black water.

The first of Kaep’s arrows screamed by Ryl, exploding through the face of a harrier to his left, showering those behind it in blood before imbedding itself into the chest of another. He plunged into their line fueled by the burning hatred that coursed through his veins.

His blade never ceased moving as he stabbed and slashed, severing arms, legs and heads in a deadly dance. His movements were fluid, too fast for the Horde to counter. All around him the air became thick with the suspended bloody rain from the dead and dying harriers. He felt the splash of the putrid, hot blood against his skin. The fetid odor of death choked the air.

Ryl heard the repeated, high pitch melody of arrows as they screamed past. Kaep nocked and fired with astounding speed. Her quiver was empty in moments. Her accuracy lethal; felling or hobbling all her targets.

He lost count of the death he was dealing, sliding far into the mass of abominations. Still they came. Through the din of the battle cries and wail of the dying, he heard the powerful voice of Paasek cut through.

“Ryl, fall back,” the phrenic screamed. There was fear in his voice.

What had he done? The words of Andr, the lesson he’d taught to the headstrong Nielix echoed in his head. He’d let his emotions rule his actions; let his better judgement slide behind the lead of pure unadulterated rage.

His friends were in danger.

Ryl let out a roar of unfettered frustration. He’d strayed too far. The harriers were nearly upon them. Kaep and Paasek stood in the face of a wall of incoming hundreds. The abominations had been worked into a frenzy by the fear of their prey and scent of fresh blood.

A hundred meters separated him from his friends. A hundred meters of death stood between them.

He propelled himself forward at lightning speed. His glowing blade sliding through flesh and bone as if it were air. Ryl focused the power in his right arm, releasing a blast of air as he leaped—the rush of wind pushing him up over the heads of the charging harriers. For a moment he was weightless as he sailed over the heads of the Horde.

Only for a moment.

Gravity reclaimed its lost hold on him, tearing his body from the sky. He plummeted toward the backs of the mass of the lanky harriers that were only moments away from reaching the waiting phrenic.

With blade and soulborne wind Ryl crashed down with meteoric speed. The unearthly force of the impact crushed the unlucky demon he’d fallen upon, and sent the surrounding abominations toppling. He dove forward on impact, rolling into the backs of the hobbled front line of the Horde that separated him from his friends.

Ryl felt the sting of claws as they tore into the flesh on his left leg as he reached a crouch. Staying low, he wheeled around, severing the offending hand and leg with one motion.

“Stay down,” boomed the voice of Paasek.

An instant later the edge of a greatsword, dripping with black blood rushed over his head, cleaving an arc of destruction. Bodies were severed in two; Ryl dove through the staggering remains, regaining his feet between the phrenics.

Kaep was engaged on all sides, her two daggers slashing with vicious accuracy, immobilizing the Horde one after another. Andr’s sword was already moving to end the struggling of those who’d fallen victim to her crippling strikes. Behind him, Nielix had rallied the remaining Vigil into fighting order, though they’d lost nearly half their number. All bore injuries of varying degrees.

Ryl darted through the group, intercepting a rush of harriers that would have devastated the remaining Vigil. Catching the attack on its flank, the Horde were helpless to defend themselves from the ferocity and speed of his assault. Ryl moved with deadly efficiency, halting the charge before it fell upon the wounded soldiers. Without pausing he rushed back, taking his place to the side of Paasek.

“Retreat to the entrance,” Ryl called to the remaining members of their ill-fated party. “We can hold them off there.”

The battle raged for what seemed like an eternity, yet not once did Ryl’s movements slow. He was a ceaseless whirlwind of death and destruction. His blade severed all that came within its glowing reach. The ground was littered with remains of the dead and dying. The pristine wild grasses of the clearing were trampled underneath foot and claw, soaked in a mix of black and crimson blood.

The constant influx of Horde had at last subsided. With every fallen abomination their numbers finally dwindled. As the remaining harriers mounted a final, desperate push, the bulk of the battle swung toward Kaep. Ryl surged around the defenseless flank of the attackers, tearing into them from their rear. Caught in the lethal vise between Ryl and the phrenics it was a matter of moments before the last of the Horde fell. A vicious downward strike from Paasek separated its body in half. With a splash of blood and