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

whom we call the prophet,” Irie instructed. “He is a man, for that is the best way we can describe him, yet he is nothing more than a specter. His glowing green body is translucent, though his features are remarkably defined. He wears the cloak of a phrenic, the hood always drawn low. None have seen his face.”

Ryl was immediately struck by the similarities in the description of the glowing specter of the prophet to the figure of Caprien he'd encountered in the Erlyn.

“Were these woods once connected to the Erlyn?” Ryl asked curiously.

“Yes, they once were,” Irie answered. “The woods that run along the length of the mountains were all once a part of the Erlyn’s domain. With the construction of what you call the western palisade her power and sway over the forest was severed. Yet, there are still pockets where her power lingers, though they are few. There is one within reach of Vim, where her remaining strength is the most potent. It is to here the prophet comes. The phrenic can feel his arrival.”

“Can I see this prophet?” Ryl asked.

The councilors again exchanged glances, all nodding their heads subtly.

“Yes, that can be arranged,” Irie acknowledged with a smile. “However, there are things you must understand, things that must be done first.”

Ryl eyed them with a hint of suspicion.

“As of this point, your arrival here at Vim has not been a closely guarded secret,” Irie stood as she spoke, continuing while pacing behind the other councilors. “All know of your arrival. As you might expect, visitors here are a thing of legend. Among us, there isn’t a soul who has ever met an outsider in the entirety of their lives. All are curious to hear from the Council.”

“When we were a fledgling civilization, every birth was rewarded with a celebration, as it signaled the hope for our future. Our survival,” Irie elaborated. “We have thankfully reached numbers where our continuance does not hang so much in the balance. There are over sixteen thousand souls now living within the safety of this mountain. Births are still celebrated, yet on a private level.”

Irie paused her pacing behind Paasek. She rested a hand on his rigid shoulder.

“The awakening or discovery of a phrenic is always a cause for celebration,” Paasek intoned.

Ryl could hold his curiosity back no longer.

“How many phrenics live within the city?” he blurted out, interrupting the councilwoman. Irie smiled at the outburst, responding with patience.

“There are fifteen phrenics in Vim,” Councilor Paasek answered for her. “All are awakened.”

“While all know of your arrival, none but the phrenics and a select few others know of the gift that flows within your veins,” Irie said. “It was more than coincidence that led us to you on the verge of the forest. The prophet forewarned of your arrival. Though you were nearly a cycle earlier than we expected.”

“My Harvest was a cycle early,” Ryl stuttered. “After an injury that nearly took my life, my sponsor caused enough of a commotion to grant the testing of all tributes in The Stocks. Mine was the only level outside of the norm, warranting my early Harvest—”

“—I understand the testing process and the behavior of alexen,” it was Mender Brasley's turn to interrupt the conversation. “Alexen follows a finite path to saturation.”

“I will not argue with your knowledge, Mender,” Ryl admitted. “Yet I understand that logic only applies when the alexen is passive.”

The Mender and Paasek sucked in a breath as they anticipated the next statement.

“Mine is active,” Ryl announced confidently.

“Full of surprises, I see,” Paasek commented with a laugh. “No active alexen has been seen since Taben.”

“He will be yours to train soon enough, Paasek,” Councilwoman Lenu, who had been quiet up to that point chimed in.

“His training will be short I fear,” Paasek said. “Once he's awakened, the knowledge inherent in the blood will be at his command. What would be a lifelong study to you will be more akin to a refresher to him.”

“That may be so, but he and Andr will still need to be instructed as all are in Vim,” Irie declared, focusing her attention on the councilors before returning her gaze to Ryl and Andr.

“Ryl, can you read and write?” she asked sympathetically.

“Yes, I can. It pains me to admit, that my skills will be lacking,” Ryl said, his face red with embarrassment. “Reading and writing were never part of our assigned tasks, nor did we have books to read or the time to study them.”

“You will have ample time to practice that skill here. Any assistance you require will be at your disposal if you run into any difficulties,” Irie said with a touch of motherly care in her voice.

“All who live in Vim are required to be proficient in both scholarly and martial skills,” Irie continued. “Every man, woman and youth are schooled in blade, bow and basic hand-to-hand fighting in addition to their intellectual curriculum.”

Irie stopped her tale as she gestured with her hand to Councilor Oswill. The councilor cleared his throat before speaking.

“A major component of the education is to learn the history of our world,” Oswill explained. “You will learn of our past, our flight from slavery in The Stocks, our trials here, our failures and our achievements. Before completing their schooling, every student must also copy a version of the great tome that contains the history that Damaris has sought to scrub from record. It may sound like a simple task, but I assure you the history is rather lengthy.”

Oswill chuckled at his own feeble attempt at humor before carrying on.

“We will not make the same mistakes that Damaris has,” Oswill continued, his voice rising in pitch as his anger swelled. “After the fall of the Phrenic, education and literacy were stifled. With the burning of the great libraries and the purging of historical record, intellectual progress was stymied.”

The councilor leaned backward, rubbing his hand over the stubble that had grown on his chin.

“The Phrenic pursued knowledge and mastery of the