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

Shaking off the morose thoughts, he followed along at Andr’s side, focusing on a genuine smile as they made their way into the crowd. After every step they were stopped by groups wishing to greet them, welcoming them with open arms to their city. In Ryl’s case, some were content to merely reach out and touch him. It was an unnerving feeling.

This scene repeated time and time again as they worked their way to the central square. The distance couldn’t have been more than several hundred meters, yet the trip lasted hours. Ryl noted the unmistakable ebb of his strength that began to take hold as they approached the festivities of the square. The volume of the music was raucous as it competed with the din of the crowd. The mixture of sounds in the square was deafening.

Andr guided their travel to the edge of the market square, stopping alongside a small row of varied shops. The mercenary put a foot onto the protruding square cornerstone at the base of the building, raising his head up above the crowd. Balancing himself with one arm on the building, he scanned the crowd; his head turning from one side to the other in a wide arc; until he located his mark. Andr stretched his other arm, waving his hand above his head for a moment before hopping down.

“There,” Andr called out. “That’s Dav. He’s an officer of the Vigil, I’ve worked with him over the last few days. He’ll lead us somewhere less crowded.”

Ryl trailed in his wake as readily as his weakening legs and the revelry of the crowd would allow. They skirted the border of the square to where Dav waited at the western corner of the Northfate.

Andr clasped hands with the man as they arrived. The avenue north of the square was considerably less crowded than the one they had just exited. Ryl leaned against the wall for support.

“You must be Ryl,” the guard said with a smile. “The name’s Dav. Andr’s told me a lot about you in our short time together. Seems they forgot to mention your name at the ceremony.”

In the wash of Ryl’s apprehension, he’d failed to notice that omission. The awestruck faces of the citizens who were content to simply brush their hands against his arm were more understandable. Councilwoman Irie, whether intentionally or not, had done nothing to diminish the burden of the figurative weight that had been suddenly heaped upon his shoulders.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Ryl admitted with a genuine smile.

Dav, as with the majority of the citizens of Vim, appeared to be remarkably fit. His tall, athletic build stood half a head taller than Ryl. He had a kind look to his face, and his hair was a mass of curly brown locks that spilled from the top of his head. Unlike the weathered, scarred face of Andr, his complexion was flawless. A product of hours of guarded practice with nary an opportunity for a real fight.

“Ryl, you don’t look well,” Andr commented. A look of genuine concern flashed across his face.

“My energy is fading faster than I had hoped, that is all,” Ryl said. He would have emphasized the statement by projecting a feeling of exhaustion, yet he was too afraid of the consequences in his current state.

“I’ll help you back to the room,” Andr stated, turning to Dav, intent on offering an apology.

“I’m not crippled, just tired, my friend. Besides you've carried me far enough,” Ryl said sarcastically, interrupting Andr as he opened his mouth to speak. “If I’m not mistaken, this alley should lead to the avenue that runs by the schools. I can follow that back.”

“Aye, that’s correct, Ryl,” Dav chimed in. “The path will be much less crowded than either of the main avenues.”

“Then I will respectfully pass on continuing the celebration tonight,” Ryl said to Dav, with a slight bow of his head.

“You are always welcome at our table, Ryl,” Dav offered. “You are one of us now.”

Ryl smiled in response. The blind acceptance of a stranger was exhilarating. He’d been welcomed into their society, yet a part of him struggled with the drastic change. Had the blind hatred merely been replaced by reverent awe? His mirth was diminished due to the weight of the prophecy; he longed for an opportunity to prove his value and his worth. His hand subconsciously traveled to the numbered brand upon his neck under his right ear. His skin burned as his fingers traveled over the raised scars.

His actions were his own. Never again would he be seen as just a number; aged like wine before being served to a hungry, glutinous sponsor. Yet, inside, there remained a lingering doubt. So inured had he been to the hatred, the toxic words, that he waited in discomfort for unbridled animosity and scorn to rear their ugly heads once more.

“Thank you, Dav,” Ryl said graciously, offering a small bow.

“Anytime, my friend,” the officer said before turning to Andr. “Now, come. We have celebrating to do. Let’s not keep the rest of ‘em waiting.”

Dav turned, gesturing for Andr to follow with a wave of his arm.

“Get some rest, Ryl,” Andr said, walking backward, following the retreating guard. “I’ll not be long. We have a busy day ahead of us tomorrow.”

Ryl nodded again, leaning against the building as he paused to watch his friend hurry after Dav. The pair crossed to the western edge of the avenue, disappearing into the next alleyway on the far side.

He pushed himself off the wall, walking northward up the Northfate. At the first intersection, he turned to the right, dipping off the main avenue into a short alley that ran between the rear of the buildings of the central square and a large four-story residence house. The darkness of the early evening was upon them. The alley was lit by the warm glow of several evenly spaced lanterns on the building’s side.

As with the other buildings in the