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

Much like you, he glows like the sun. His tattoos, while as plain as the day to see, are in a constant state of motion. They swirl and shift of their own accord, subtle enough that their motion could be overlooked, yet with an intensity great enough that the eyes cannot focus on their precise details.”

“What messages does he bring?” Ryl asked.

“His message had been consistent from his first contact with the founders,” Paasek explained. “He carried with him what he called the catalyst prophecy, the dying words of a phrenic seer by the name of Lupl.”

The phrenic will balance on a blade's edge, clinging desperately to their ideals, teetering on the verge of oblivion. On this precipice, one will come with active blood. This one will be the Catalyst. The wind behind our sails to push us through the storm to calmer waters. The light needed to guide us home through the darkness. Only the blood of the catalyst will set us free.

Ryl’s eyes opened wide as Paasek spoke the words that Ryl recalled so clearly. The phrenics seated around the table looked questioningly as Ryl’s reaction could not be disguised.

“You’ve heard this before, haven’t you?” Kaep asked curiously.

“Yes, I have,” Ryl gasped. “In the Erlyn, when I met with the phrenic named Da’agryn. His sudden disappearance has troubled me. He said he was more a part of the Erlyn now than anything. That he’s been known by many names throughout the ages, yet in all other places, he was nothing more than a voice and conveyed emotions.” Ryl’s voice trailed off as his mind worked to decipher any information he’d overlooked from his brief visit with the mysterious ancient phrenic.

“You think then, that these could be the same?” Paasek inquired.

“Aye. The more I hear of this prophet, the more convinced I am that they are,” Ryl professed.

An uncontrolled grin spread across Paasek’s face.

“Yes, well we shall see soon enough,” he continued.

Paasek shifted back in his chair, crossing his legs as he folded his arms across his broad chest.

“Those are the Leaves that you retrieved in the Erlyn, are they not?” he asked.

“They are,” Ryl confirmed. He subconsciously retracted his arms from the table, protectively covering the mythical weapons.

“Ha. Fear not my friend,” Paasek chuckled. “None here covet those blades. None here could use them if they tried. The holsters, while cleverly designed, could use some modifications. I would suggest removing the one from your right arm entirely, it will only stand to interfere with the application of your other skills.”

Paasek rose from his chair at the head of the table circling behind the phrenics seated opposite Ryl. He stopped behind Deyalou, placing his hands on the top of the man’s chair.

“As you know, we phrenics are skilled at far more than just war,” the councilor reiterated. “Our skills vary, yet in front of you sits an expert leatherworker. I will not ask you to part with both of the Leaves, yet if you could leave one with its holster, a design can be modified to better secure them.”

After a moment's hesitation, Ryl unstrapped the bracer from his right arm, sliding it across the large wooden table. Deyalou stood, collecting the weapon with reverent care.

Deyalou delicately removed the weapon from its holster, turning it over in his hands. His eyes catalogued every grain in the wood with intent, studying every minute detail. His fingers rubbed gently over the worn patch at its middle. The phrenic's eyes were wide with wonder. The others seated next to him leaned over in silent appreciation as they too gaped at the innocuous weapon.

“I have some ideas that should make these blades more accessible and stow them more securely,” Deyalou admonished. “This construction is crude, but your idea is admirable given what you had to work with. If you don’t mind, I’d like to get started on this now.”

Paasek grunted in agreement while Deyalou started for the door.

“Don’t worry, Ryl,” he said over his shoulder. “I’ll take good care of them. I’ll put this ahead of my other work. I intend to have a sample ready for you when you return this evening.”

“Thank you,” Ryl said graciously.

Deyalou hastened from the hall, letting the door close quietly behind him. Ryl watched him go with a sense of trepidation. A nervous fear settled over his body as if he was being separated from his kin for an undetermined length of time. Paasek broke the silence.

“Ramm, Vox, you will continue with your duties within Vim,” Paasek explained. “Ryl, your friend is putting a company of the Vigil through their paces before we leave. It wouldn’t hurt for you to study what you can. You'll learn that even seeing instruction with the naked eye can imbue some understanding of the skill."

Paasek tapped his index finger on the side of his head.

"The knowledge is there," he said. "It is a matter of activating it. We will leave from the training grounds once their instruction is complete.”

Ryl took Kaep’s hint, rising from his chair, following her toward the doorway. She paused momentarily at the door, collecting her long bow and quiver that rested on the long, narrow table that ran along the wall. Ryl saw no sign of her knives, though he was sure they were secreted away on her person.

“I have some tasks to attend to before we depart,” Paasek announced as they neared the outer door. “I’ll join you shortly.”

Ryl and Kaep moved from the Hall of the Phrenic turning northward, passing the colosseum on their right and the Council Seat on their left. On the northern edge of the Westfate, a long, two story building commanded the entirety of the block between the two smaller parallel avenues. Kaep volunteered a brief explanation of their surroundings as they walked. Ryl was struck by an overwhelming feeling of unfamiliarity; there was so much to the great city he had yet to experience.

The sprawling building ahead was the central military hall for the Vigil. Within its complex there were barracks