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

features jumped out at him, made more incredible by the average medium they were applied to. He guessed that pieces of this quality carved into gold or silver would fetch a king's ransom.

His brief visual survey of the room stopped when it reached Andr. The mercenary was watching him, an indistinguishable gaze written across his face.

“Andr, do you know how many phrenics reside here?” Ryl asked curiously.

“Unfortunately, information is not something that has been shared freely,” Andr mumbled as he cleared his throat. “The few I’ve talked to seem hesitant to divulge any details. They’ve made it clear that they have a hard time trusting someone whose alliances have seemingly switched so frequently. First a mercenary, then a guard, then a personal retainer to a tribute’s sponsor, it’s a hard combination for them to comprehend.”

Andr stretched his arms, locking his fingers behind his head as he relaxed back into the couch.

“What I do know is mundane, yet surprising,” he admitted. “The city is known by the name of Vim. It was founded well over one thousand cycles ago. Its total population has grown to over sixteen thousand individuals.”

Ryl was astonished. How had a city of that size maintained its secrecy for so long? Andr continued before he could interject.

“There were two scout details of four phrenics that came to our aid in the clearing and the resulting move to the forest,” Andr commented. “I’ve only seen two of their faces enough to recognize them today. Kaep, who you met earlier, led the first detail. A man by the name of Paelec led in the second group that assisted in our return.”

The clarity that had resolved in Ryl’s head after he’d awoken had become more clouded with the passing of time and strain from using his skills. The questions that had filled his mind moments earlier slipped through his grasp like dry grains of sand through his fingers. He struggled to make sense of the information.

“Please, tell me how we made it here safely,” Ryl begged. “How long have I been unconscious?”

“You’ve been out for nearly a week,” Andr said. “Whatever potion they’ve been feeding you has worked wonders to counteract the poison. The good mender hasn’t stopped gaping over the accelerated rate of your recovery.”

An unexpected smile tugged up on the corner of Ryl’s lips as the images of his friend, Mender Jeffers sprang into his head. Jeffers too had been beside himself with the progression of his healing after the incident with the sub-master in Tabenville.

Andr continued with the tale of their rescue by Kaep and her scout detail. Ryl listened in awe at the story of their fortuitous arrival and the short, lopsided battle that followed. His heart raced at the description of their flight from the swarm of the Outland Horde as they sprinted for the forest.

“How were the phrenics able to find us?” Ryl asked. So engrossed was he with the story, that he hadn’t realized his body had inadvertently leaned forward, seeking the information like a moth to the flame. He eased himself back against the wall as a wave of exhaustion crashed over him.

“It was you that led them to us, Ryl,” Andr said thankfully. “Whatever you did in the clearing was visible to them from here. They’ve never elaborated with me what it was, I suppose it was something like whatever you did to call them here today.”

Ryl wondered if he looked as confused as the mercenary. His memory of his actions in the clearing were fragmented, frozen into still images of the massacre that ensued. His body had acted out of desperation. The results, while devastating, had been the signal that led to their rescue.

“We must have been near to the city for them to see it,” Ryl commented. “How close had we come?”

Andr shook his head.

“Ryl, we were somewhere in the range of ten miles away,” Andr stated incredulously.

Ryl’s mouth fell open at the sheer distance.

“How’s that possible?” he questioned, not really expecting his friend to know more.

“I don’t understand it either,” Andr answered, shaking his head slowly. “Now that you’re awake, I’m confident you’ll have the answers to your questions soon.”

As if on cue, the shuffling sound of feet from outside the door heralded the return of Mender Brasley. He carefully opened the door with one hand, steadying a small cup and saucer in his other. A light trail of steam wafted up from the heated liquid inside.

The exterior of the cup was polished to a shine. A beautiful, forested scene in vivid greens and browns wrapped around the glossy white exterior. Ryl marveled at the perfection of the artwork.

The mender stopped a step away from him, delicately holding the cup away from his body. The air carried with it a mild hint of flowers barely noticeable through the potent smell of death. The look of disgust must have been evident on Ryl’s face.

“Forgive me, Ryl,” Brasley said apologetically, forcing a small smile. “This will not have the most pleasing of tastes. We’ve tried to mask the flavor, I’m afraid it doesn’t do much to help the final remedy. Careful not to get it on your hands, the scent will linger.”

Ryl groaned. He had grown tired of hearing that line repeated time and time again. First the foul-tasting treatment in The Stocks, now the remedy.

Cautiously accepting the cup and saucer from the mender, he peered into the delicate looking vessel. The impressive artwork that wrapped around the outside of the cup carried over into its interior. Ryl marveled at the skill and the time it must have taken to complete such a work of art. The exquisite designs disappeared into a small sea of putrid smelling, clouded brown liquid.

Sucking in a deep, steadying breath through his mouth, Ryl rushed to down the vile concoction—the last gulp nearly forcing his body to expel the liquid. He closed his eyes struggling to hold in the remedy. His mind latched onto the only joyous thought it could: he concentrated on the revolting solution