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

to most questions. I can help you learn how to ask the right ones. We’ll have you awakened soon enough. Your skills may dwarf anything we can hope to attain.”

The cheers from the surrounding crowd made further conversation difficult. Ryl smiled and waved, shaking hand after hand as they moved toward the Grand Hall. His mind was focused elsewhere, on the words of the councilor. His awakening. What did it mean?

The great doors to the Council Seat closed behind them with a hollow thud. The uproarious cheers from outside, now muffled by the closed door, quieted to a manageable din of eager conversation and merriment. Ryl could hear the distant sound of music.

“Those were quite the ovations, don’t you think?” Counselor Heild asked, his face barely able to contain its giddiness. “You certainly gave them something to cheer about, Irie.”

“Aye, that you did,” Paasek intoned. “I hope it wasn’t too much.”

“What’s done is done,” Irie admitted with a pained smile. “You know as well as I, that the prophecy was remarkably vague on what events the catalyst will harken.”

She shared a brief glance with Paasek before continuing her statement.

“I think it’s time our friends visit the prophet,” she said. “He’s yet to speak to us since his arrival, perhaps the catalyst will garner a response. Mender Brasley, how soon will he be well enough to travel?”

“That is a question for him,” Mender Brasley responded honestly. “His course of remedy is complete, and I see no lingering signs of the poison in him. His strength and endurance may still lag, but he should be more than capable of making the march.”

Irie nodded her head before turning to meet the eyes of the rest of the councilors. At last, her gaze fell on Ryl.

“The walk is only a matter of a few miles; how soon will you be ready?” Councilwoman Irie asked.

Ryl’s answer to the question would have been the same regardless the state of his health. He was ready. He'd leave now if need be, he’d force his way through the exhaustion.

“With another night's rest I should be more than ready on the morrow,” Ryl announced. “I'm eager to meet the prophet myself.”

“Then it's decided,” Irie said, clapping her hands together in front of her body. The slap echoed through the crowded entry chamber. “Councilwoman Lenu, can the Vigil be assembled tomorrow to escort them?”

“Aye, I'll see it done,” Lenu responded with a nod of her head.

Without another word, the representative for the Vigil wheeled about, disappearing into the crowded hall.

“Councilor Paasek,” Irie continued. “Perhaps the vanguard of his future scout detail can attend. The familiarity will be a benefit in the long run, don't you think?”

“I agree with that logic,” Paasek admitted. “I’ll inform the phrenic. Might I suggest an early start? It will still be a considerable distance for one who only a few days prior was confined to a bed. Traveling with caution will prove wiser than travel predicated by haste. I’d prefer if all were back within the safety of the walls before nightfall.”

Paasek flashed Ryl a devilish smile.

“The celebrations have already begun,” he continued with a grin. “Let him enjoy some of the evening though.”

Councilwoman Irie let out an exaggerated sigh as she shook her head.

“Yes, Ryl enjoy yourself this evening. After all, Vim is celebrating your arrival,” Irie said. “The Vigil will collect you in the morning.”

With a pleasant smile, she made her way to where Councilors Heild and Oswill were standing, inserting herself immediately into their conversation.

“Enjoy the night tonight. We’ll see you in the morning,” Paasek said with a smile before moving to join the ongoing conversation.

Ryl felt a tap on his right shoulder. He spun around to find the grinning face of Andr behind him.

“You handled yourself well back there, not that I’m at all surprised,” Andr acknowledged, beaming like a proud parent. “We are not through this yet. I’m told that they require our presence outside. It’d be rude of us not to show up for our own party.”

“I know,” Ryl sighed. “The size of the crowd makes me uncomfortable. Even the Harvest couldn’t compare to that volume of people.”

“I only said that they require our presence, not for how long though,” Andr spoke in a hushed tone as the pair worked their way toward the door. “Councilwoman Lenu and a few of the Vigil officers I’ve been working with are having a private celebration of sorts, though I believe that will be shortened considering tomorrow’s trek. Once we make ourselves seen throughout the avenue, we should be able to slip away easily enough.”

“I’ll follow you,” Ryl agreed.

The pair exited the Council Seat, painstakingly working their way into the throng of spectators waiting outside. The citizens still clogged the Westfate. Though they massed in the avenues surrounding the colosseum their numbers had dissipated. Even so, the volume was overwhelming. The central square appeared to host the multitude of the celebration. Ryl could hear the upbeat tune of guitar, percussion and voice carry over the noise of the crowd. He could see fleeting glimpses of dancing in the square.

The contradiction to his previous life in The Stocks was undeniable. As tributes, they had rarely the cause for celebration. Their minor gatherings were a subdued affair for fear of alerting the guards. For fear of retribution. They mourned every addition to their meager flock. They grieved every loss.

The lost city had survived its share of toils, forging through each with an unyielding resolve. From the brink of extinction to a thriving civilization, they had worked tirelessly to make their city the antithesis of the evil that had driven them from their ancestral homelands.

Ryl looked around at the thousands reveling in the streets before him. They moved carefree, though they lived a sheltered existence. It was a life he craved, yet at his core, it was a life he knew he could never accept wholeheartedly. He could never let slip the ache in his soul as long as the tributes remained enslaved. As long