Fulcrum of Light (Catalyst Book 2) C.J. Aaron (unputdownable books .TXT) 📖

in any means I can. My lands run from the road ahead to the foot of the mountains. Use them as you like for as long as you like. I fear I will not be returning there again.”

His words were filled with sorrow. There was an obvious pain behind them. His life and the life of his son were to be yet another unaccounted casualty in the crimes against the tributes and the phrenics. Aldren’s home and livelihood were now likely forfeit. He was vocal in his support of that which was right and would have paid the ultimate price if not for the timely intervention of the phrenics and their companions. Ryl was encouraged by the sentiment coming from the merchant; a common freeman of Damaris.

Regardless, the time was rapidly nearing for the fires of change to be set ablaze. Would they catch alight, or be drowned under a wave of apathy?

Only time would tell.

“Where will you go, my friend?” Ryl asked the merchant.

“I’m not sure, to be honest,” Aldren sighed, pausing for a moment as he thought of his options. “I have an associate I’ve regularly done business with near Milstead. We have family near Leremont, though that may not be the safest place to reestablish shop given the present circumstances. The only other option is a cousin, though we haven’t spoken in cycles. He has a small shop in Cantros.”

Andr’s eyes widened for an instant. He winked as he met eyes with Ryl.

“That’s the home of House Eligar, if I’m not mistaken,” Andr commented. “I’ve done work for the good Lord Eligar in the past, we have a good rapport. If it’s work you seek, I’d happily send you with a written recommendation.”

A portion of the worry clouding Aldren’s face melted away at the statement. A smile tugged up on the corners of his lips.

“I am eternally grateful for what you've done already. You continue to assist me even though it is I that are forever indebted to you, my friends,” Aldren said excitedly. “I’ll head straight there after making this final delivery. Honestly, if I must admit, I’ll be happy to never see that place again.”

“Why is that?” Ryl asked curiously. “Where is your final delivery?”

“The shadows of the Martrion Ruins would be the last place I’d willingly set up shop,” Aldren shuddered at the comment, whispering as he continued. “Though they thankfully don’t make their presence known, there’s always the cursed Lei Guard watching from the shadows. You rarely see more than the flutter of black fabric. Don’t even have to see them to know they’re there. You can feel their devilish eyes stabbing you like knives.”

Ryl was stunned by the comment. What were the Lei Guard doing there? Would his presence in the area draw them to him? Was he putting the others at risk? He opened his mouth to speak, but Andr was quick to interrupt him.

“Excuse us for a moment, Aldren,” Andr said respectfully. “We have a matter to discuss with our companions.”

“As you will,” Aldren said, giving his horses a light tap with the crop.

Andr stopped, and Ryl reined in his horse beside him. They waited for the rest of their companions to stop with them.

“Our new friend let slip some information that might prove invaluable to our cause,” Andr explained. “The presence of Lei Guard anywhere outside the capital is more than just curious. When I was in the service of Ryl’s sponsor, he received a missive from the King, detailing the processing options for his upcoming tribute. It noted two options. The main facility near Leremont, or the quicker of the two due to a smaller backlog, a production facility in Martrion.”

Hope soared through Ryl at the statement.

“Martrion has been abandoned for centuries,” Andr continued. “If the Lei Guard are there, so too is the production facility.”

By best estimate, there were still close to two weeks before the annual Harvest. Martrion was only a matter of a day’s ride from their current course.

Ryl grinned at the thought.

Their mission to free The Stocks, to free the tributes hadn’t changed. They were just adding another stop along the way.

Chapter 50

It took no convincing to enlist the assistance of Aldren in their plan. They had ridden for several hours along the forested path before exhaustion forced them to pause for the night. Sentries were posted in either direction and the group slept hesitantly, though thankfully undisturbed, through the remainder of the darkness.

They resumed their weary trek just after first light the following morning. Their progress started off sluggish as all were groggy, owing to the turbulant events of the previous evening. Adding to their discomfort, they’d learned from the merchant that their estimate of the remaining number of days had been slightly off. With the dawning of the days’s sun, there were now only twelve days remaining before the upcoming Harvest.

The sun had passed midday when the party veered off the narrow, wooded path leading to the Lord’s estate along the lake, merging onto a second, crudely maintained road that ran both east and west. As the hours passed the woods around them had grown sparser. Navigating Aldren’s cart, however, became a tedious operation owing to the increasingly rocky terrain. The sun had nearly disappeared as they arrived at the merchant’s modest home, set against the backdrop of forest and mountains further in the distance. The sky burned red, as the last of the sun's rays faded over the mountains. Their jagged peaks were silhouetted against the darkening sky.

Having lost his wife many cycles earlier to a tragic illness, Aldren had chosen to remain in their home, happy for the peace of a secluded existence for himself and his son. The thought of living in one of the cities, or even villages, left a sour taste in his mouth. The debauchery and depravity of the current society was frequently on show for all to witness. His excursions to the markets were enough to pacify all desire to remain