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

a look of pure horror. Ryl watched the remaining life fade from his eyes. The dying phrenic gargled as he attempted to find the words to express himself.

Ryl turned away, walking toward the carriage. His body flooded with a mixed set of emotions. He was relieved, yet he experienced no joy taking life. The awful knot in his stomach threatened to release the churning contents.

The door of the carriage had swung wide open. Jostled by the breeze, the black-painted door thumped as it clicked against the side of the wagon. The interior of the king’s carriage was dim, lit only by a single lantern. The flame flickered as it burned low, splashing its light on the crimson fabric that covered the padded interior. Flickers of light sparked off the jewels sewn into the material. Strips of gold framed the modest window on the opposite side.

Slumped against the far wall was the king. His body was shriveled, barely more than a skeleton wrapped in voluptuous, ornately adorned finery. His face was haunting. His eyes were sunken deep into his skull, his skin shriveled and cracked. The low, flickering light cast deep, heavy shadows, highlighting the severe, bony features of the corpse.

The gift of a life extended far beyond natural means had been removed. The power, stolen from the countless lives he’d seen enslaved and tortured, had been reclaimed. The blessing that had maintained his existence became his curse.

King Lunek the Third was dead.

Ryl stepped back, closing the door to the black carriage. The approach of footsteps from behind stopped as they reached his side. To his right, Andr stood, one hand resting casually on the pommel of his sword. The other patted Ryl on the shoulder. Ramm and Vox paused off his opposite side. Though their eyes were shadowed, he met their gazes. They nodded subtly. Vox handed him the second of the Leaves he’d dropped in the courtyard.

He stowed the dormant blade as the wind swelled around his right arm. With the single blade in his right hand still burning with green fire, he slashed at the black carriage. The wind released, carrying with it a gout of flame. The fire splashed outward as it struck the carriage. Within moments, the entirety of the wagon was aflame.

A funeral pyre for a king.

“What of the Horde, Ryl?” It was Andr’s voice that broke the silence.

Ryl scanned the area. From the north, the glowing signatures of the phrenics approached from the palisade. To the south, the line of Horde shifted. He let the burning blade in his right hand go dormant before stowing the innocuous stick in its holster behind his back.

He closed his eyes, concentrating on the darkness that scarred the sun emblazoned on his left arm. The momentary stab of pain was tremendous, yet it quickly faded to little more than a memory.

Ryl glanced at his arm as he opened his eyes once more. The shades of light and dark had inverted once again, yet the reach of the blackness had grown. Little of his hand now remained unmarked by streaks of darkness.

His eyes burned with fury as he met the line of the demons. They wavered under his glare. He focused his thoughts on the monochromatic red hue of the jagged landscape they called home. He hammered them with a sense of urgency. A sense of panic.

Ryl took a single purposeful step forward. The emotion poured from his body.

Their line broke.

He could feel their presence moving. Moving westward. The blackened shadows receded at a dizzying pace.

Ryl glanced to his sides. The carriage was fully engulfed in flame. A thick plume of black smoke billowed into the sky. To his opposite side, his body contorted into a gruesome pose, Leiroth’s withered corpse remained. Like the king, his form had shriveled as the ravages of time caught up with him. His mouth was open, locked into a soundless scream.

“It was Leiroth who was corrupted, and by his command, the tainted Lei Guard they feared,” Ryl stated. “Among their peers they respect power. Nothing more.”

He flexed his left arm, watching as the swirling mass shifted as he squeezed his fist.

“What happened to you?” Paasek asked as he hobbled up to the group, standing among the still bodies of the Lei Guard. “You’ve vanished from my sight. Again.”

“Aye, my friend,” Ryl acknowledged as he strode toward the retreating mass of Horde. “I’ve become what the prophecy has foretold. And more.”

He turned, scanning the palisade. The guards were shaken. Vigil assisted the guards from Cadsae Proper and those of House Eligar as they sought to regain their footing. Some nursed wounds, as the blast had rocked them from their feet. His eyes paused as his vision met with Le’Dral and Fay in turn.

“The kingdom will need the phrenics of old,” Ryl added. “They will need support. They will need council. There’s a history they have yet to learn and a future that will be brighter tomorrow than today. There will be much to do to right the wrongs of generations. Worry not about the Horde. Lead the tributes to Vim. The way will be clear.”

Ryl turned his eyes to the remains of Cadsae Proper. The shadow of the Horde that covered the city streets moved to the west with haste. The vast sea of darkness retreated like the water of an ebbing tide.

There was a commotion among the king’s army to the east. Fighting had broken out in the vanguard as the soldiers fell upon the Lei Guard who’d held them in thrall. Ryl watched as one after another they were pulled from their horses, overwhelmed by the staggering numbers.

No longer sealed into ranks by the fear of reprisal, the army churned with activity. Many dispersed, rushing toward the remains of the East Ward, where the fire still raged out of control. Some fled to the west, throwing down their arms.

None were pursued.

“The Horde retreat as if they’re scared,” Andr commented. “They run from something.”

Ryl nodded his head as he met eyes with his