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

energized, his mind struggled to relinquish the contact. The mild shock that registered in her eyes gave away the answer he’d been longing to ask. That she felt it too he was sure. Ryl was determined to discuss it with her at the next opportunity.

With effort, he broke the contact with her hand, withdrawing his slowly. Their eyes remained locked throughout the exchange. Each seemingly probing the depths of the other’s eyes, delving for knowledge. Ryl read; apprehension and fear. There was more, a look that he failed to comprehend, one that was gone as quickly as it had come.

He broke from the gaze, running his eyes over the group gathered in the courtyard.

“We’ll meet again in a few days, my friends,” he said confidently.

With a smile and a nod, he took the reins from Andr’s hand before easily mounting the patiently waiting mare. Without another word, the two spurred their horses onward to a brisk trot.

The farm behind them quickly faded from view as they cantered along the narrow, fence-lined lane. Off to their right, he noted the shadows of the Vigil materialize from the small stand of trees. Without a gesture, the figures vanished back into the glade.

They had a full half-day of riding ahead of them before they reached the port city. Though he’d lived only a stone's throw away from Cadsae Proper for nearly half his life, he still knew very little of the sprawling city. The partial visions of the cobblestone streets that he’d viewed through the slats of the black wagon were forever etched into his mind. The bars of the carriage window were still very much a part of the image.

So too was the uncertainty. The nauseating stench and sweltering heat of his moving cell would maintain a permanent hold on his consciousness.

These original fleeting visions, his brief survey of the area surrounding the Pining Gate, and the rapid view of the port were his only experiences of the city at large. The bustling port would again be awash with activity. People coming and going about their days in either blissful ignorance of, or blind anesthesia to, the horrors occurring behind the Palisades that dominated the skyline over the town. They were likely oblivious to the true impact of the occasion they so joyously cheered.

Though he had been unaware at the time his Harvest was unfolding, Andr had been with him then as well.

They followed the southern thoroughfare to its end. Here it merged with the main road running east and west. They slowed their horses to a walk. Ryl reached behind him, removing the spare cloak from one of the two small saddlebags his horse carried. They’d packed light, bringing only necessities. A bedroll was secured to the back of his saddle, and the hilt of a short sword protruded from its carefully rolled end.

Ryl threw the cloak over his body, hiding his bare tattooed arms in its sleeves. He pulled the short sword out from where it rested in the bedroll, quickly buckling it to his belt. Though he was more than familiar with the blade, and aptly competent with its use, the feeling of the sheath bouncing off his leg was still remarkably foreign.

The two made good time after reaching the main road. To their west, the dark grey line of the eastern palisade grew on the horizon with every forward step. The foreboding, oppressive feeling of being constantly watched increased. What would it be like to step back into The Stocks? In his mind, he harbored the fear that he’d be crushed by the figurative weight of the walls.

It had only been a cycle since he departed The Stocks through his own Harvest. Ryl had changed since he'd last crossed through the darkened maw of the Pining Gates. The young tribute had left in shackles with little hope. He was now a free man, an awakened phrenic, returning with a purpose.

With his awakening, his mind had matured considerably. Through the alexen, his body had lived countless lifetimes, experienced innumerable cycles worth of experience, knowledge and training. The information and expertise were there at his fingertips, though far too much to comprehend all at once. In the matter of only a few short moons he’d learned more than most would in several lifetimes, yet volumes remained unprocessed. Oftentimes it was the most insignificant environmental trigger that opened the floodgates. The sparkling reflection of light off water or the whisper of the wind through the trees would unstopper the dam, allowing for the deluge of pertinent information to pour through. At other times, all he needed to do was to concentrate on a subject and the information was there for him to access freely.

Ryl recalled the words of Paasek; the alexen, after all were still a semi-sentient being and still capable of withholding information until the time was right.

As expected, the traffic on the road was heavier leading toward the city. Almost immediately, they passed a merchant, along with a few small groups of riders. They were greeted cheerfully. Ryl was anxious, yet there was no inkling of the animosity or unveiled suspicion they had experienced from the hunters.

Rumors of the battle at Serrate and the destruction of the processing facility for the tributes had likely yet to reach their ears. If the villagers had followed his instruction, they’d have released the guards captured from the facility the previous day. Information traveled quickly, yet the distance was vast. There seemed little possibility of a coordinated response from the Kingdom. Moreover, if the clues Ryl let slip were believed, it was the capital city of Leremont that would be preparing for assault.

By the time the truth of what happened was uncovered, the Kingdom would have other, more significant issues to deal with.

For much of the morning they rode in silence, the steady cadence of their hoofbeats on the road and the rush of the wind in their ears the only sounds. Though the ride was devoid of conversation, both he and