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

of any in the scout detail that had come to their aid in the Outlands. He hesitated to guess at their ages owing to the effects of the alexen on their appearances. Deyalou and Ramm appeared to be older than Kaep, though only slightly, while Vox appeared the senior member of the detail.

To Kaep's side, Deyalou eased himself into his seat, reclining in his chair, crossing his arms comfortably across his chest. He was tall and thin, though athletically built. His hair was a disheveled looking mass of short, dark brown patches. Some stood on end, while others poked out to the side or remained flat across his forehead. His chin was covered with a thin coating of dark stubble. Ryl could read the genuine warmth of his smile through the natural seriousness of his expression.

Next in line was Ramm. The phrenic easily dwarfed the others in stature and was without a doubt the largest man Ryl had ever met. His mind flashed back to his friend, Zed, the gentle giant of The Stocks. Even he would have appeared small in comparison to the phrenic. Ramm’s frame was massive, though he was not at all obese. His dirty blond hair was curly and stopped just off his shoulders, though he wore a plait on either side keeping the stray hairs from his squared off face. The thick beard that covered much of his face did little to disguise his smile.

The last of his detail was Vox, the elementalist. Unlike the others, his hair and face were clean shaven. His eyebrows were thin and light brown, only a few shades from matching the color of his skin. He was roughly the same height as Ryl and, as expected, he appeared physically fit. His face was kind, though wizened by age and experience. The light grey of his eyes, however, was haunting.

“Now enough with the formalities. Sit, sit,” Paasek commanded, interrupting Ryl’s hasty survey of his new companions. The four had returned to their original seats while Paasek ushered Ryl around to the opposite side, pulling out a chair for him as he continued on to the seat at the head of the table.

“Let’s get to it then. Our primary duties take us outside the walls of Vim. We work in three separate scout details of four phrenics that patrol the forests outside of Vim,” Paasek continued as he sank into his chair.

“Pardon the interruption, aren't there sixteen phrenics in Vim?” Ryl asked as politely as possible.

Councilor Paasek smiled as he shifted his body forward, leaning his elbows on the table.

“Aye, that there are, Ryl,” the councilor said. “The phrenic of old spoke of the specialties suited for war as a sporadic occurrence. The numbers they massed at the Battle of the Erlyn Woods were small compared to their total population. That trend continued here in our great city. That is until the Barren.”

Paasek leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest as he continued. The phrenics seated across the table listened attentively, as if the telling was the first they’d heard.

“For reasons that remain a mystery to us, the Barren seems to have flipped the tables,” he continued. “All but three of our number today are proficient in skills suited to the ways of war. They remain here as permanent fixtures in the city, though they. like the rest of Vim, have trained to take up arms should the need arise. As the Councilor for the phrenics, it is also my place to remain here in the city.”

He leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table, interlocking his fingers, meeting eyes with Ryl.

“Today, you will travel beyond the safety of the walls back into the forest. It’s an area near where the original founders entered our great city,” Paasek continued. “Kaep and I will accompany you as well as a squad from the Vigil. The trek will be several miles each way, do you think your body can handle it?”

“Aye, I do,” Ryl replied confidently.

“Know that there is no harm in asking for assistance should you need it at any point,” Paasek said with a smile. “None here have a true grasp of the tortures you were subjected to within The Stocks, or the ravaging of the poison you were forced to endure. We are brethren. Let us shoulder your burden if you need it.”

Ryl was at a loss for words. It took a moment for the gravity of the statement to sink in. He felt as if a portion of the void that dwelled in him since his imprisonment had been filled within a matter of a few, simple words. His family had grown stronger. He hoped they would one day hold power strong enough for a reunion the likes of which the kingdom had never seen.

“Thank you,” was all Ryl could muster.

“Think nothing of it,” Paasek said. “We phrenics are all bound to each other. We willingly support each other, even if that means sacrificing our own lives, though we pray that need never arises. In all likelihood, we are the last sixteen, no, seventeen, of us left.”

Paasek’s sentiment was heartfelt. The phrenic councilor meant the words he spoke. The scout detail that had come to his rescue had knowingly risked their lives to save him. They’d prevailed against overwhelming odds, stealing victory from the Outland Horde. The thoughts of sacrifice, however, brought with them the grim images of Eroh and Kailid. Ryl’s mind relived the scene as the ravenous claws of the Horde tore their bodies to shreds. The pain in his heart was still fresh. The agony of their deaths tore at him like they had happened only moments earlier.

“Who or what is the prophet?” Ryl asked, happy to change the subject.

“We know not who he is, he’s never revealed to us his face,” Paasek admitted. “That he is phrenic, we are assured. All phrenics can see him clearly with the mindsight, his glow radiates with a brilliance that dwarfs the rest of us.