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

“Wake me if they move,” Andr ordered.

“I will,” Ryl replied. “Sleep well.”

Andr chuckled quietly before laying down to rest.

Ryl sat on the ground in the middle of the doorway to their cave, hidden beneath the shadow of the opening. He laid the spear across his lap, crossing his arms, resting his palms on the Leaves that lay in wait inside his bracers.

What were the creatures below?

What were they doing?

The thoughts of the possibilities carried him through the still watch. When his eyes weren't trained on the rocks, he surveyed the area with his phrenic mindsight. The creatures continued their motionless vigil, tucked safely out of sight.

Severe hallucinations, like the one he’d experienced earlier were thankfully absent throughout his watch. Ryl did, however, suffer through two additional waves of extreme dizziness as he stood guard. He braced his body against the rock at their onset, determined not to fall from his post. Both passed rapidly and he regained full control of his senses within moments.

The frequency of the bouts was alarming. Throughout his life, he’d never experienced any form of sickness before. The onset of the severe symptoms was frightening in their intensity as his condition continued to deteriorate. From all he’d heard the symptoms became debilitating. Did they have time to make it to the mountains before that happened? Even if they reached the mountains, what then?

The sun had nearly completed its circuit, pushing the darkness up from beneath the horizon. Ryl leaned back to stretch, rolling his neck from side to side to work out the kinks that had formed. A shadow from behind the outcropping on the left surged out from behind its cover heading toward the other that remained motionless toward his right. The second creature exploded forward, trailing the first as it passed its location. In an instant, the pair had disappeared behind the terrain to the south.

Ryl closed his eyes, searching with his mindsight. The creatures had already sped past the boundary of his range. All was still and silent once more. His eyes and mindsight scanned repeatedly yet no trace of the pair returned by the time the sun rose from below the horizon to the east.

Andr woke with the sun, greeting Ryl with a smile as he approached the mouth of the cave. After relaying the news of the creature’s retreat, Ryl and Andr hastily broke camp, determined to make a quick investigation behind the closest outcropping of rock. Following that, the plan was to move with all due speed to the north.

Sword and spear in hands they stalked toward the northernmost outcropping from where the first of the shadows had appeared. Andr called their approach to a halt, stopping twenty meters from the rocks.

“Do you see any sign of them?” he asked, his voice no more than a whisper.

“No, I see nothing,” Ryl responded confidently.

“Stay behind me,” Andr instructed. “Keep your spear at the ready.”

Ryl followed a pace behind Andr as he crept toward the rocks. Ryl checked again for any trace of the black masses in his vision at ten meters out, and again at five. In all directions, the surrounding landscape was clear of the blackened stains of the unknown creatures.

Rounding the largest rock that formed the right edge of the pile, they were assaulted by the unforgettable, putrid smell. The fetid, rotting stench elicited vivid memories of the carnage left behind by the unseen creature. The scent sparked another memory altogether in Ryl, a visceral experience that had been forever imprinted in his mind.

Andr dove, rounding the corner, throwing himself into a controlled roll. In doing so, he kept the bulk of his body out of the logical plane for a surprise attack had someone or something been waiting there to ambush them. He was on his feet immediately, sword ready to either defend or strike. Ryl was only a step behind as Andr slid his blade back into his sheath.

Whatever had lurked behind the rock was gone, leaving powerful traces of their foul odor behind. Sunken into the ground were a score of footprints, similar to the one they'd found earlier in their trek. The long claws on each foot left deep parallel gouges in the earth.

Ryl rushed to take a deep, steadying breath as the dizziness struck again without warning. He gasped for air as he fell to his knees, closing his eyes as his world around him spun out of control.

The extreme disorientation passed in a moment. Ryl blinked open his eyes in the nick of time. He lunged backward; the spear slipped from his hands as the jagged, rusted sword bit into the earth where his body had been. Pieces of dirt and rock sprayed over him, stinging his face.

Chaos surrounded him. In every direction was a seething mass of disfigured bodies, churning over each other to reach him. Long claws sliced through anything in their path, swords impaled and hacked off limbs as they fought their way closer. He frantically pushed himself backward, his spine and head slamming into the rock behind him with a jarring force. His eyes clenched shut involuntarily.

Ryl struggled to correct his vision. As it cleared, he saw Andr was kneeling before him, arms outstretched, hands resting carefully on his shoulders. He was talking to him, but Ryl heard no sound. Andr looked worried.

More worried than he'd ever seen him.

Ryl’s hearing, along with the rest of his senses returned in a tidal wave of sensation. The back of his head throbbed, sweat drenched his body soaking through his thin clothes. He was shaking uncontrollably. The stench was everywhere. The noxious, gut wrenching smell of death. So too was his recognition.

“Ryl can you hear me?” Andr’s voice sounded panicked and distant.

Ryl felt his pupils contract and dilate in rapid succession as they struggled to focus on Andr's face.

“I know what they are,” Ryl said in a whisper. “The Outland Horde. They're here.”

Chapter 9

The pace they set leaving the scene was frantic. Through