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

heart raced. He gritted his teeth as the world came to a halt around him as he dipped into the speed.

Even so, the arrows tracked forward. Their deadly progress slowed dramatically, yet not frozen.

The assault had come so quickly and from such close quarters there would be no time to deflect or destroy them all. Even with the speed and powers at his command, some of the arrows would find their mark.

His decision was made instantly. There was no time to be wasted, no hesitation needed.

The winds tore around his right arm with the sudden fury of a storm. The fabric of the sleeve scratched against his skin as the power rubbed it against him. As the gale raged, his skin burned, like being pelted by errand grains of sand propelled by the wind.

Ryl screamed as he released the focused arc of wind. The sleeve covering his arm shredded as the power streamed from him. Scraps of fabric tossed helplessly in the wind. The sudden release, the exposure of his tattooed arm, sent a feeling of exhilaration rushing through his body.

His focused assault impacted the doomed flight of arrows aimed for Breila and Aelin. The assault shattered several on contact, reducing their deadly load to splinters. Those not destroyed outright were forced aside by the gale, tossed desperately off course. They would fall harmlessly to the stone of the square.

His mount was not so lucky.

Ryl shifted his leg to the forward, fanning a desperate, uncoordinated burst of wind with a flick of his right hand. The projectiles wobbled in the air as the unfocused blast did little to allay their progress. A trio of arrows found his horse’s flank, just behind the shoulder. The animal stumbled, whinnying in agony, tossing Ryl as it toppled to the ground.

Ryl leapt as the horse’s massive frame crashed into the stone roadway. He hardened the woodskin across his shoulders, arms and back as he neared the ground. His feet contacted the ground at speed; he tumbled forward as he sought to minimize the effects of the abrupt dismount. His fall started gracefully as his enhanced natural agility attempted to control his roll. Even so, the speed was too great, resulting in a painful tumble. Though the rapid coating of woodskin prevented any serious injury, his stolen shirt tore in several places as he scraped on the rough stone. His grip on the unnatural speed within faltered as he skid to a stop. Time snapped back to normal.

“Ryl,” Aelin screamed. Breila had reined in her horse, guiding the beast behind the relative safety of the small gatehouse on the inside of the Estate’s elaborate entrance.

“Go,” Ryl called over his shoulder as he rose to his feet. “Take him to safety. I’ll catch up.”

The two separated groups of soldiers converged into one. Standing shoulder to shoulder, they formed a concave line that stretched from one side of the square to the other. Ryl reached behind his back with his left hand, drawing one of the Leaves, though he kept the blade dormant. A chuckle went up from the soldiers at the appearance of the seemingly innocuous wooden stick. Nearly half the line had a second arrow nocked, ready to fire.

Ryl let the wind swell around his right arm as he faced down the group. The alexen surged through his blood. In the face of armed soldiers, the dark whispers, the urge for bloodshed, raised its voice in an effort to ensure its opinions would be heard. He gritted his teeth as he focused on the heat inside his veins.

He counted close to fifty soldiers standing at the ready, though few, aside from those with bows, had their weapons drawn. Their companions had their fingers on the hilts of their swords on their hips. He’d stared down an army. He’d not allow this palty force to stand in his way. His companions would see no harm from their blades or arrows.

From the avenue behind the grouping, another large contingent approached. Though the bulk were warriors, this party appeared to contain several plain-clothed members as well, though they walked under the concealment of hoods that cast darkened shadows over their faces.

Ryl let the wind swell around his body. Even after a relatively short period of disuse, a thin layer of dust had formed atop the even stone of the courtyard. A small haze from the rotating gust spread outward as the moments passed. It started as nothing more than a gentle shifting of the fine grains strewn across the cobblestone, though it ramped up as his patience waned. His tunic, weakened from the fall, began to tear at the seams. The taut strands of fabric snapped as the wind ripped shreds free. His shirt was soon tattered, whipping to the side as its strength failed in the growing wind.

He felt the light of the last rays of the late afternoon sun on his back. His torso was now entirely exposed.

The determination of the line of soldiers facing him waned as his unnatural skills bloomed before their eyes. To their credit, though several backed a few nervous steps away, the line held true. The high-pitched roar of the wind grew deafening. Along the curved line of the soldiers, many placed their hands protectively over their faces as the wind and dust pelted them from the side.

From the rear of the line, a single man, one of the hooded figures, surged forward. Ryl readied himself to release the storm that swirled around his body. The hooded newcomer shrieked orders at the soldiers in the line, eagerly pushing through the center of their formation. His cloak billowed out to his side as it was caught by the wind. Though Ryl could only make out the muffled garble of his words over the wind, they, in combination with his animated gestures, pacified the soldiers standing ready to fire.

One by one they released the tension on their bowstrings, lowering them toward the ground. They retreated several paces, freeing themselves from the onslaught of