The Defiance of Vim (Catalyst Book 4) C.J. Aaron (best interesting books to read TXT) 📖

numbers too great to count. The toll was sickening. The street ran with a flow of slick black blood and gore. The cacophony of sounds was deafening. The abominations from the Outlands screamed in anger and wailed in pain. There was a swish of fast-moving blades slicing through the air, and the high-pitched whistle of arrows barreling overhead. The crackle of lightning had all but subsided; however, the sizzle of flesh still burned in places.

The stench of burning wood, roasting rotted flesh, and putrid blood was overpowering. Ryl craved the salty tang of the sea air. He longed for a storm to rage from the sea, bringing with it a cleansing rain.

To his left a cry of pain rang out. Ryl caught a spray of blood fly from the phrenic councilor as a clawed hand raked across his leg. He stumbled back a step, growling as he slashed a deadly arc with his great sword. He stumbled as the gap opened.

“Switch sides and fall back,” Ryl yelled to Paelec as he darted behind the phrenic swordsman.

Ryl barreled into the narrow gap that threatened to close around Paasek. He felt the anger boil over in his body.

They’d already lost Deyalou and Kaep.

The thought of losing another phrenic was more than he could bear.

There were so few left.

The burning in his veins scorched him from the inside out. The green glow of the Leaves intensified with his anger. Only a tint of color surrounded the edges of the flames. The interior swelled with a blinding white light. For the first time he felt the heat on his skin. The Horde backed away from the fire, shielding their faces from the scorching heat.

Still swinging his great sword with lethal efficiency, Paasek dragged himself back toward the center of the avenue. To the opposite side, Ramm and Paelec pinched inward to assist. The phrenic archers fired with deadly accuracy and terrifying speed into the gap that had formed along the right side of the road, with Ryl holding the left side of the avenue at bay,

“Back,” Ryl yelled to the phrenics. The white flames of the Leaves began to flicker with sparks of green. For the first time, he could feel the chilling tendrils of fatigue creep through his body.

For the moment, Ryl held the left half of the avenue at bay, the ferocious heat of the blades staving off attack. Sliding toward the center of the avenue, he let the wind swell around his arm. The torrent ripped around his body as he held his arms out to his sides. His cloak, caught in the initial gust, snapped out behind him. Errant flames from the Leaves caught in the gale, spinning wildly around his body. What started as a localized breeze soon swelled into a storm that spread out across the avenue.

Within moments, it encompassed the width of the road. The searing heat from the Leaves traveled with the wind. Glowing streaks of green flame burned as they wrapped around the vortex. The Horde scrambled from the fire-laced gusts. The phrenics dragged their hobbled companion backward.

Ryl stood alone in the avenue. He was the stopper, holding back the entirety of the Horde from his companions and the phrenics at his back. The beasts shied from the superheated wind, shielding their faces with their arms as the heat seared their skin. He backed slowly toward the gate, careful not to engulf his companions with the spinning inferno.

As his heels struck the rubble of the destroyed buildings at the corner of the courtyard, he paused. The power massing around him grew to the breaking point. He felt the anger that swelled inside his veins mix with anxiety. His body throbbed as the power became too much to bear. The release had to come.

He felt like his body would tear apart.

Ryl screamed as he released the accumulated energy. He poured his strength out as he swung the burning blades forward. His knuckles slammed together as his hands met before his body. The terrifying force of the gale exploded outward. Closest to his release, the Horde were incinerated by the insurmountable heat. The heat dissipated rapidly, yet the fury of the wind continued. Charred bodies from the front crashed into those behind as they were all tossed from their feet. The myriad of corpses that littered the ground became projectiles, pummeling those behind them.

The Leaves faded as his hands collided. Only his scream remained. The roar was not his own. It carried on, long past the wind settled. Beyond the shrieks and cries from the Horde. Past the calls from his companions. He recognized none of the sounds that poured uncontrollably from his mouth.

The city fell silent as his voice raged on.

The call was not from the alexen in his blood.

It was not his voice.

He screamed with the rage of the Horde.

Ryl fell to his knees as the last note died in his throat. His fists pressed on the stone, now sticky with blood, partially dried by the incomprehensible heat. His elbows were locked, holding his body from collapsing forward. His chest rose and fell in dramatic motions as he sucked the precious air into his lungs. Though the stench was sickening, he was too tired to be bothered by the odor.

His head was lowered, though his eyes were raised, his burning gaze staring down the Horde before him. His final display of force had cleared the avenue of all debris that littered its surface. Bodies, stone and glass were thrust away. Only the large charred stains where the blood had once pooled remained.

For nearly twenty meters, the avenue was clear.

Ryl was in a helpless position. He doubted if he’d have the strength to muster a cohesive counter, yet the Horde remained frozen in their position. His burning gaze panned the faces of those standing in the front lines. The lanky bodies of the harriers now mixed with the battered banes. The looks in their eyes were alarming.

For the first time, he saw true fear clearly written