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

From the day he'd met him, Andr knew there was something different about the boy. In his wildest imagination he would not have guessed this.

With the fire quietly crackling away, once again he returned to Ryl's side. The flickering light illuminated his unconscious companion; the muscles in his face twitched as he winced in pain.

Did all the tributes control such power, or was it unique to Ryl?

Andr sunk to the ground, leaning his back against the rock. Ryl lay sleeping just off his left side, his sword rested at the ready to his right. He'd retrieved the weapons that Ryl had used during his assault. Turning one over in his hand, he carefully inspected the innocent looking stick.

His blank stare pointed out into the clearing. Just at the edge of the renewed firelight, the ruined corpses, severed heads and limbs flickered in and out of view. Andr let out a long overdue sigh. Seeing the pleading look in Ryl's eyes as he collapsed had triggered in him an uncontrollable response.

He'd practiced almost as hard as he had when first learning the sword. With effort he'd learned to cover his emotions, to hide a secret he’d held inside for nearly six cycles. He'd learned to block out the effects of the pleading face that still haunted his dreams night after night. Ryl’s face had shared the same look.

He looked back down at Ryl for a moment before leaning his head back against the rock. The night sky shared its domain with few clouds. The pinpoints of light from the stars twinkled overhead.

“I have to confess something to you, Ryl,” Andr said woefully. The pain in his voice was evident. “When I told you my reason for coming along with you. I lied.”

Andr looked back down at Ryl as if waiting for a response. He knew his admission would garner none. He watched the slow rise and fall of Ryl's chest.

“The job was to be my last,” Andr whispered. “There were four of us. We’d been contracted to defend a prominent landowner on the lands of House Felloc from a small band of outlaws that had been destroying his crops and killing his livestock. We were betrayed by one of our own, the other two were slaughtered in their sleep. The job turned out to be the venomous head of a very long and very ugly snake. I survived off the land for a moon, was hunted mercilessly before finishing the job.”

Andr kicked at a stray ember that had popped off the fire, sending it sparking back into the flames.

“The job that should have taken a matter of days yet lasted more than a moon. I longed to be home,” Andr continued. “You see, the life of a mercenary isn’t conducive to having a family.”

He paused, taking a deep breath, collecting his thoughts before carrying on.

“We lived comfortably. The money I brought home was more than enough,” Andr said, a hint of anger growing in his voice. “We had a small plot of land and a modest cottage. More than enough for my wife and I.”

Andr stopped mid-sentence, moisture welling up in the corner of his eyes.

“And our son,” he said in a whisper. “His name is Cray.”

The night was quiet, the surrounding grove was still as if listening with rapt attention to the story unfolding underneath its bows.

“When I first viewed our home from down the road, I could contain my emotions no longer. It had been too long. I ran the rest of the way,” Andr admitted. “Looking back at it now, something felt off as I reached the door. I almost cut down the stranger who opened it.”

Andr paused, leaning his head back, looking absently up into the night sky.

“I had come home to find out that my wife had our son brought in for his ascertaining testing while I was gone,” he whispered. “They confirmed the alexen in his blood. He's a tribute, like you, Ryl."

Andr stretched his legs for a moment before curling them back in, wrapping his arms around his knees. His eyes burned with a blaze that made the heat of the fire pale in comparison.

“That woman I called my wife, who he called mother, sold him to the highest bidder,” Andr spat. “She convinced them I was dead, played the part of the grieving widow. She sold the house we lived in, that our son had grown up in. It wasn’t until later that I found out she sold herself as well. She now lives a life of excess, a proud member of the noble duke’s harem, feeding off the scraps he throws her way. He bought her as well.”

Andr paused as a sudden shudder from Ryl caught his attention. He scrutinized the involuntary fevered responses of the young man at his side, breathing a sigh of relief as they calmed. He tossed another stick into the fire with an absent flick of his wrist.

Relaying his story to Ryl was soothing. Andr felt a weight lift from his shoulders as he told the tale he’d never spoken a word of before.

“At that point the man I’d used to be ceased to exist,” Andr whispered sorrowfully. “I should have been there for Cray. We would have run and never looked back. Instead, the woman who brought him into this world traded him for his weight in gold. It pains me to admit, I wallowed in my self-loathing, anger and regret for the better part of two cycles, tucked away in whatever watering hole I could find until the money ran dry.”

Andr rubbed his hands together idly, fidgeting with the nervous anticipation.

“One morning I woke up, drunk, homeless and penniless,” Andr admitted. “I realized the folly of my misplaced anger. My wife and the Duke are rightfully to blame, and one day they will pay for her crimes. But moreover it was the system that was the root of the problem. When I began my