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

of the corner of his eye, he saw the captain wheel quickly about, his hand subconsciously falling onto the hilt of the sword he wore on his hip. The incoming pair nearly tripped over themselves in an effort to alter their direction as the eyes of the alerted captain fell squarely on their approach.

A few steps later, Ryl disappeared into the darkness of the alley. What Ryl had truly prevented he couldn’t be sure.

There’ll be a culling soon.

The final, sinister message from Cavlin’s doomed assassin spoke of the captain’s fate after the Harvest, yet one final night remained. Was their intention to merely send a message? Were they simply innocent bystanders misidentified by Ryl’s justified paranoia?

Another thought crossed his mind. The deaths of those who’d been sent to kill Cavlin the night before surely had been noted by the party that had sent them. Was this retribution? Had Ryl inadvertently accelerated their deadly plan?

The answer was largely immaterial. Covered by the shadow of the alleyway, Ryl hastened eastward, before turning into another narrow passage heading to the north. The looming top of the southern palisade was silhouetted against the deep blue of the early night sky.

The top of the palisade was still brimming with activity. Soldiers with torches patrolled along the top of the wall. Guards and workers alike moved with speed, hastening to complete preparations for the upcoming Harvest. Torches and lanterns were planted every several meters, illuminating the work area with a day-like light. Vision from the height of the brightened wall into the shadows of the alleyways and narrow grounds surrounding the barracks would be poor at best.

Ryl grinned at his good fortune.

The alley provided no obstacles, allowing him to reach the border of the military compound with haste and ease. There was a gap opening between the buildings and the thin, head-high wall that cordoned off the barracks. The guards positioned in the square were lined in evenly spaced ranks, spread several meters out from the outer doors of the Pining Gate. They had no direct lines of sight to his position near the wall.

After listening for sounds of movement from the narrow courtyard within, Ryl was convinced that no one patrolled the interior. He carefully pulled his head up over the wall, and rapidly inspecting the area, confirming his initial estimation. A moment later, his feet landed silently on the soft grass of the narrow courtyard.

The strip of green grass ran along the southern face of the barracks. There were several benches lining the wall he’d scaled, with small neatly manicured bushes distributed between them. It was only a matter of a few meters from the wall to the edge of the barracks. There were no windows on the first floor, though the second had several evenly spaced across its expanse.

The window Ryl sought was thankfully near the center of the building. Its shutters were closed, though the locking mechanism behind was likely poor. Prior to recent events, guards in Cadsae Proper had little to fear. The possibility of someone entering through an exterior second story window of a heavily guarded barracks was not likely given much thought.

Ryl silently removed the spare cloak, placing it discreetly beside the nearest bench across from the window to the captain’s room. He felt dramatically less restricted with the absence of the borrowed cloak; the soulborne wind was again fully at his command without the fear of tearing the fabric from his right arm.

Checking that no one was watching, Ryl took a step back, priming his leap. He focused on the power within, drinking deep from the speed that flowed through his veins.

Time ground to a stop.

With the aid of a quick downward blast of wind from his right arm, he reached the ledge of the second-floor window in a flash. With his feet perched precariously on the windowsill, he wasted no time pushing inward on the center of the shutters. The narrow metal slide of the small latch in the center of the panels was wholly unprepared to stop the sudden force. Ryl shifted to the side as the panel now freed of its catch sprang back open.

He slipped into the room without a sound, letting the speed snap back to normal. The process of gaining entrance to the captain's room had taken but a moment. In the deep gloom of the early night, his actions would have likely appeared as nothing more than a fleeting moving shadow—if noted, likely written off as the figment of an overactive imagination. Still, Ryl paused, motionless, listening as the moments ticked by.

No calls of alarm from the guards outside reached his ears. Ryl concentrated as he keyed in on the casual sounds of muted conversations, footsteps of the occupants within, and scattered cheers from the revelers without. Inside the barracks, the air was still. Over the array of the noises around, the sound of his heart thundering in his chest was overpowering.

The captain’s quarters were dark, lit only by the dwindling remains of a small lantern burning on the large desk to his left. To his right, a doorway led to a second room. He could see the foot of a small bed as well as a chest and a narrow wardrobe against the far wall.

In every way, the room he’d entered had the feel of an office. The desk was neatly organized with stacks of nondescript papers arranged in regimented order. A small inkwell with a pen sat at the furthest edge of the table. Behind the desk the wall was lined with shelves of books, though he struggled to make out the names in the dim light; the ones he did scan were all military in nature. In the center of the wall opposite the desk a single door remained closed. A thin stream of light crept under the gap between its base and the wooden floorboards below. To the right of the door a small end table was set between two high-backed wooden chairs.

The sound of approaching footsteps