Ghosts of the Erlyn (Catalyst Book 3) C.J. Aaron (mobi reader .txt) 📖

blade toward the back of Joem’s left leg. The tip slashed through his flesh, severing the tendon at his heel.

The hunter’s foot was mid stride when Ryl struck. The ruin of his lower leg couldn't sustain the weight as he planted it on the ground. His growls of anger turned to a shriek of pain as he found himself helpless to prevent his own collapse.

Planting his feet in the soft ground, Ryl pivoted his body, launching himself toward the remaining attacker.

His target was at a full sprint, though to Ryl’s eyes he was hardly moving. The hunter’s face was locked in a hateful snarl. His sword was in his right hand, his arm bent back across his body with the blade held high in preparation for an angled downward strike. Ryl flipped his blade to his left hand as he approached before lashing out with a vicious diagonal strike that severed the hunter’s sword hand. The bloodied blade continued its arc, passing through the hunter’s neck. Pain, shock, and fear registered in the man’s eyes as he realized his fate been sealed.

There was no avoiding the shower of blood this time, though Ryl did his best to duck under the spray. Ryl snatched the newly detached sword from the air with his right hand. He hardened the woodskin on his palm as his fingers closed around the blade just above the guard of the dislodged weapon. The severed hand slipped from the sword’s grip, falling sluggishly toward the ground.

Without slowing, Ryl reversed his grip on the newly acquired sword. He coiled his arm back before launching the blade like a javelin at the fleeing hunter. The retreating guard was only a matter of five meters away and only a few steps from the relative safety of the tree line. The projectile caught him in the back, boring through the leather armor that covered his torso before passing through his body, punching out the opposite side. He careened wildly for a few steps. His uncontrolled body deviated from its original course, smashing into a tree, driving the pointed blade deep into the soft wood.

Ryl released his hold on the speed and the world flashed back to normal. The usually disconcerting feeling as time caught up with him was lessened as he'd avoided drinking too deeply of the power inside. He turned, stalking back toward the writhing body of Joem, as around him the bodies and blood finally reached the forest floor in a sickening cacophony of splashes and thumps.

The hunter was frantically sliding himself backward along the ground using his hands and working foot for leverage. His left leg, with its severed tendon, dragged along the ground leaving behind a thick trail of crimson.

The hunter lashed out with a half-hearted strike. Ryl easily parried the blow. As their blades met, his right hand launched forward grabbing the pommel of Joem’s sword just below the hunter’s hand. Ryl’s iron grip squeezed the handle of the blade as he twisted his wrist. The hunter’s arm rotated with the motion until it could turn no further. Ryl pulled back, wrenching the sword from Joem’s grip, leaving the blade backward in his hand.

Joem groaned as he attempted to slide away. Ryl bent his right arm at the elbow, slamming the tip of the blade downward into the hunter’s left leg. The sword passed through the meaty portion of the man’s thigh, biting deep into the earth, pinning him to the forest floor.

“Please, have mercy,” the hunter cried out in pain as he struggled to pull the blade free.

Ryl knelt close to the hunter.

“You'll be granted the same mercy you were to offer them,” he whispered, inclining his head toward the father and daughter who’d remained frozen like statues against the stone. The child had her head buried in her hands, pressed tightly against her father's leg.

“How many innocent lives have begged you for forgiveness that was never granted?” Ryl hissed as he rose to his feet. “You pay for your sins.”

The hunter’s eyes went wide. He choked out the words as the shock of the pain set in.

“I can pay …” His words were cut off as Ryl drove the remaining sword through his chest. There was a sickly wet gurgle as the remaining air and life seeped from the vanquished hunter.

Ryl's eyes swept over the clearing. The overwhelming feeling of revulsion he’d experienced earlier had been premature. The sensation that stuck in the aftermath punched him with a force that nearly toppled him from his feet. Blood soaked the clearing. The brilliantly varied shades of greens of the leaves, grasses and moss were awash with dripping stains of red. He swallowed the bile that threatened to escape from his lips. His mouth and throat burned as the caustic liquid scorched his insides.

The destruction of the hunters was absolute. It was merciless. It was heartless. He was sickened at what he'd done. What he had accomplished with ease.

Ryl's hardened gaze ended on the father and child. The man's blade was now pointed at him. The point of the small knife quivered wildly, his face frozen in a look of sheer terror. He could hear the muted sobs and the gasping quiet breaths of the terrified child.

Ryl stepped away from the body of Joem and the pool of blood that slowly stretched out around him. He held both his hands out in front of him while focusing on sending out a wave of soothing calm over the pair. He could see the child peer at him through the cracks in her fingers. Her eyes were a brilliant shade of blue, that even the cover of her hands could not diminish.

“Sir, you can lower your blade,” Ryl said soothingly. “None will harm you now. Are you hurt?”

From behind, Ryl heard the snapping of twigs as a body hastened through the forest. His head pivoted; his left hand reached under his cloak closing on the hard wood of the Leaves that still rested in their concealed holster.

A moment