The Balance of Power (Godsland Series: Books Four, Five, and Six) (6 page)

"Easy there, young man, breathe," Chase called into the hall. "It's all right. I'm here and I know Sinjin has been found. You may return to your duties." Chase turned back to watch Sinjin breathe.

"I'm sorry, sir," the young guard said, still breathing heavily and clearly uncomfortable with the position in which he found himself. "There is another problem, sir. The tribes of Arghast have gathered near the entrance to the God's Eye and they want to speak to Lady Catrin."

"What?"

The young guard looked as if he might faint. Chase stood silently for a moment, trying to decide what to do. The Arghast were renowned for their horsemanship and their fiercely insular culture. Relations between Catrin and the Arghast were generally good, despite the fact that their very nature made the tribes volatile and unpredictable.

Morif spoke softly, "Catrin generally offers them water, wine, and meat, sir."

"Get someone working on it."

"Yes, sir," Morif said, offering the wink of a one-eyed man that unnerved most but assured Chase that the job would be done properly.

With a last glance at those who meant the most to him, Chase wondered if any of them would ever be returned to him. With nothing more he could do, he left them in Millie's capable hands. For a moment he wondered where Mirta was since she was almost always near the infirmary, but then he heard the melody from outside again, and he recalled the party she was holding for the dragons. As insane as it seemed, he wished her luck. Maybe Kyrien really could help Catrin and Prios. That thought froze in his blood as the haunting melody shifted and was suddenly drowned out by cheers, which almost instantly turned to screams.

Chase ran.

When he reached the front entrance of Dragonhold, he gazed into the valley below, horrified by what he saw. Dragons. Not the color-changing regent dragons that had befriended Catrin, but those that seemed carved from pure darkness. Feral dragons, Chase realized, having heard the ancient descriptions. Verdant dragons had been said to be the largest and most plentiful during the last age of power; feral dragons, the most dangerous; and regent dragons, the most rare. As Chase watched, a man dressed in Arghast garb soared through the air and landed on top of a dragon that was swooping down on the still milling crowd. To his amazement, the man held on and even managed to secure a leather line around the beast's head. Soon, though, that dragon flew beyond Chase's view. Another took its place and soared straight for Chase, who took a few steps back then turned and ran. "We're under attack!" he yelled as the hold's wooden fortifications exploded.

* * *

Halmsa of the Wind clan clenched his teeth and held on as best he could, his clan's namesake buffeting him. The dragon beneath him certainly knew he was there and had been trying to dislodge him for some time, but Halmsa was strong and fast and clever. Even when the beast had slammed itself into the canyon wall, he'd been quick enough to slide around to the underside of the dragon's neck, just barely avoiding being crushed. Other dragons had nearly knocked him free as well. It didn't seem as if they were trying to protect their brethren. The beasts were just adept at flying within very close proximity to one another, at times glancing off each other or rubbing together in midair, yet they managed to do it without knocking themselves from the sky.

The sensation of flying overwhelmed Halmsa's senses for a time, and he simply enjoyed it. An instant later, the dragon dived steeply and aimed for a patch of tall trees. Branches rushed toward Halmsa at impossible speed, the first struck him like thunder. His world nearly went black, but he willed himself to stay conscious. The dragon, now desperate to be rid of him, had taken too great a risk and misjudged the trees. Halmsa held on to his leather lines alone, having lost his footing, and he was tossed wildly as the mighty feral dragon slammed into the treetops.

Despite the intense desire to fly once again, Halmsa climbed down, knowing this dragon would fly no more. Blood warmed his scalp and caked around his ear, but Halmsa's grin was huge. He'd flown a dragon! His people had waited many lifetimes for this day, and he was among the first. Pride filled his chest and motivated Halmsa more than ever. There was much work to be done, but the first step had been taken. Riding a dragon was not at all like riding a horse, and they all had quite a lot to learn.

Limping and bleeding, he climbed along the ridge, watching the skies. The dying dragon thrashed in the trees, crying out its anguish. Halmsa fled but stopped as the skies above him filled with writhing black shapes dancing through the clouds. Like a practiced dance, they dived in near unison. Halmsa felt his courage tested as the dragons fell on their own, ending the dragon's suffering. Feeling exposed and vulnerable, he limped along the crest of the ridgeline toward the remains of Dragonhold's front entrance. He could see the wooden stairs swinging away from their moorings; the mass of people seeking refuge within the hold had no choice but to climb through the shattered timbers to reach the safety of solid stone.

* * *

Flames and dark smoke leaped from makeshift torches attached to metal-tipped spears. Guards stood at intervals on the stairs, guarding the line of refugees from the dragons, which patrolled the skies, waiting for a chance to grab an easy meal. Chase watched as Martik and his crew worked to repair the fortifications and entryway that had been reduced to splinters in a single devastating strike. In one day, the world had changed, and Chase knew they were not ready.
Boil Nat Dersinger and his visions.
Chase knew that Nat's visions couldn't have actually caused these events, but he needed to aim his anger and frustration somewhere. The dragons were wild creatures, and he could not expect them to show kindness or listen to reason. How could he fight such an enemy when so grossly overmatched?
Hide.
The thought made him sick, but the process was already under way.

He also knew that he could not blame Trinda for calling the dragons to them, though that hadn't stopped others in the hold from casting curses at the girl. How could he blame them; the girl's father had tried to kill Catrin when she was but a babe and had succeeded in killing Catrin's mother and Chase's mother. Chase was somewhat surprised that when he saw her, he'd felt no malice or revulsion. She still looked like a child, and her deep-set eyes contained the sadness of ages. Truly this girl deserved respite.

"She'll stay with us," Mirta had insisted, and Chase was grateful for it. Mirta had a heart full of kindness, and not for the first time, Chase congratulated Brother Vaughn on landing the ideal wife for him.

The great hall now looked more like a shantytown as people did what they could to claim their own space. The disorder seemed out of place amid the towering grace of the pillars and the worn but nonetheless mighty bas-reliefs.

"Out of my way, fool!" came Miss Mariss's voice across the great hall, cutting through the rising din.

Chase turned to see her marching directly toward him. He sighed.

"This whelp is trying to tell me that I can't take the grain and salt I'll need to feed all these people. It's going to take a mountain of food and an army in the kitchens to keep up with so many. The Herald was right all along, may her name be blessed! Now you listen to me--"

Chase raised a hand to stave off the rest of the tongue-lashing. "I hear you, Miss Mariss. I do. My men have standing orders, and you're going to have to work with them on this. I haven't yet had the chance to brief everyone on these new circumstances, and they are just trying to do their jobs."

"Do I look like I would steal all of our grain?"

"I know, I know." He turned to a soldier standing off to his right. "Jerrick, please allow Miss Mariss access to any supplies she needs. Get me an inventory of all our stores, and start working on a rationing plan that will stretch what we have for at least a year."

The young man looked up with fear and anxiety in his eyes.

"It's just a precaution. Don't panic and don't get everyone else any more wound up than they already are. Everything is going to be fine."

As if to disprove his words, shouts and screams rose outside, and Chase turned in time to see a huge black shape blot out the entranceway. The guards' battle cry filled the air, followed by cries of pure anguish.

"Go!" Chase said as the entering mass of refugees surged ahead, driven by fear. It was everything Chase's men could do to keep anyone from being trampled. Miss Mariss and Jerrick retreated, now fully aware that their squabble was the least of Chase's concerns. It was impossible for him to cut through the throng, and all he could do was listen to the cries of men and dragon.

"They got one!" a woman shouted as she entered. "The guards stuck one of them demons, and they brought it down, they did!"

"How many are there?" someone asked.

"Too many," the woman said. "Too boilin' many."

Chase gathered all the guards nearby and sent runners to get more. The men donned leather armor and readied every spear and pole in the hold. Most dipped the tips of their weapons in pitch and lit them from nearby fire pots.

"To one side!" Chase barked as he led his men out onto the wooden bridge and stairs, which swayed under the weight, the damage from the first attack still nowhere near fixed. The makeshift repairs that still held were strained, and it seemed that the entire staircase could collapse at any moment. Below, dozens of people still climbed, desperately trying to reach the safety of stone. Only two guards could be seen, and those were unable to prevent the dragons from plucking people from the stairs before turning on a wingtip and soaring away. The cries of the dying now echoed through the valley.

Abandoning caution, Chase charged down the stairs and was almost immediately engaged by a swooping dragon. Claws extended, it dived in close, reaching for a young man who was helping an old woman climb. Chase nearly went over the railing as he lashed out with his spear, which now seemed far too heavy and short. Still, the dragon shied away from the flames and turned his attention to Chase. When it struck, Chase was ready and jabbed the point of his spear at the beast's eye. Though he didn't manage to blind it, he did smear pitch around the dragon's eye, and it screamed as it flew back toward the coast.

Two more dragons were wounded, and too many people were lost before darkness obscured the battlefield. With the setting of the sun, the dragons retreated, and Chase watched them go, trying to figure out where they were going, but the beasts scattered, melting into the darkening skies. He and his men retreated, helping the wounded and the elderly finish the climb.

When everyone was finally inside, Chase ordered the shattered fortifications rebuilt. "Don't bother trying to repair the gates. Just fill that hole as best you can. For now, we just need to keep everything out."

Exhausted, Chase dropped to the floor. His arms ached from hours of overextended spear thrusts, and his stomach muscles felt as if they were all torn. Even breathing had become difficult, and he allowed himself to rest. Where were Catrin and Prios when he needed them most? he asked himself. Many of those Chase turned to for advice were gone. Benjin and Fasha had sailed with his father and uncle some six years back, their only guide a madman's map, and no one knew when or if they would return.

Just as the largest timbers were being rolled into place, there came shouts from outside. Chase turned to look as Mirta charged forward. A man in bloodied desert garb stumbled into the great hall, in his arms, Kendra. Men stepped forward to aid him, but he shouldered away their efforts. Mirta spoke to him in soothing tones, and when he reached a place where some blankets had been stacked, he laid her down.

"Help her," he said, his accent thick.

Mirta looked Kendra over, and her apprentice Loriana approached the Arghast, a damp cloth in her hand. He stepped back at first, but Loriana grabbed him by the arm and looked him in the eye. She guided him to the floor and tended his wounds. Slowly he relaxed.

"Catrin," he said with fervor.

"First we must get your wounds clean," Loriana said in a calm and even tone.

"Need Catrin," he urged, but as Loriana tended his wounds, he slowly eased back and fell to sleep. Loriana tensed when she heard him mutter in his sleep, "She will teach us to fly."

Chapter 5

Even the most supple rose must sometimes face the frost.

--Hadda Mick, farmer

* * *

Sinjin had never realized that light could hurt so badly; it felt as if it were trying to burrow its way into his brain. His vision swam until he took a deep breath, then he slowly began to see. His ears, however, worked just fine.

"You tell me this instant what happened to you!"

Millie's voice cut into Sinjin's consciousness like an axe, and it took him a moment before he could respond. "I don't know. I don't remember."

"What's the last thing you remember?" she asked, no less intent on getting an answer.

"Um . . . I . . . uh . . ." Sinjin stammered, ashamed that the last thing he remembered was hiding in an alcove and eavesdropping. "I don't know."

"How can you not know?" Millie asked, her glare suspicious. "What's your name?"

"Sinjin Volker," he responded, and he heard someone snort in derision.

"And what's my name, then?"

"Why, you're Millicent, former maid to the Lady Mangst and current keeper of the aforementioned Sinjin Volker."

"Your memory and attitude appear whole. If only you could tell me what you were doing when you sustained this injury!" Not waiting to see if he would say any more, Millie walked away, seemingly having trouble keeping from throttling Sinjin.

"This is all your fault," he heard Kendra say, and he almost had the sense to duck before her fist landed on his cheekbone.

"Kendra! Never hit anyone in the infirmary! How could you?" Khenna said, her mouth agape.

"It's all his fault."

"Are you all right, Sinjin?" Khenna asked.

Sinjin just moaned and levered himself out of the cot.

"Look at that eye!" came another familiar voice, and Sinjin's heart felt a bit lighter as he turned to see Durin grinning back at him.

"It sure is good to see you," Sinjin said.

"You look worse than I do now but not as bad as Kendra; she looks
terrible.
I'm betting most of those cuts and scrapes are going to leave scars. Hideous."

"If you two boys feel well enough to pick on this poor girl while she's a-healin'," Mirta quipped, "then you just get your butts out of here. There are more sick and wounded in this place than we have beds for. And go easy for once, the both of you! I don't want to see you back here 'cept for visitin'. Now git!"

Sinjin narrowly avoided Kendra as he stood to leave, his legs only vaguely responding to his commands, which he supposed were now more like requests. Durin was not so lucky or so quick, and the remainder of her salted fish slapped him in the side of the head.

"You just wait
 . . ." they heard Kendra say as they left.

"Things are a mess," Sinjin said once they were out of the infirmary and out of Kendra's range.

"You don't know the half of it. The dragons attacked while you were out."

Sinjin nearly choked and could find no words to respond.

"The Arghast showed up just before the dragons attacked, and now we know that they came looking for your mom because the dragons had been tormenting them."

"Why are the dragons attacking? Is it Kyrien?"

"No, no," Durin said. "It's not Kyrien. These dragons are nothing like him. They're as black as night and shiny, like a snake, and they're meaner than a cornered bear."

"And the Arghast want my mom to make the dragons go away?"

"Nope. Guess again. Get this: they want your mom to teach them how to catch and tame the dragons so they can fly."

"Now you're just telling tales," Sinjin said. He turned his head as he noticed a low din slowly growing louder.

"Am not. You'll see. Oh, and those people who shot me weren't assassins. Morif told Millie that if they had been trying to kill you, I'd be dead. What do you think of that?"

Just then they walked into the great hall, and Sinjin stopped, dumbfounded by what he saw and heard. A tent village had sprung up in the hall, and it seemed everyone had something to say at the same time. The noise was difficult to describe, and the great hall's acoustics only added to the effect.

"Told you."

Sinjin grew more anxious with every step, suddenly feeling cramped and crowded, wondering if anyone among the gathered masses wanted him dead. For once, seeing Morif shadowing him and Durin did not anger him. He felt safer knowing Morif was about. He'd taught Sinjin much of what he knew about fighting and about defending himself. Fighting was not one of Sinjin's strong points, which had been proven on just about every one of his encounters with Kendra.

"No one goes out in the daylight now," Durin added as if it were exciting news. "We have to harvest at night. Brother Vaughn says that given ample food supply, the dragons will multiply. He said something about their gentryfication period being short, and that meant there could be a lot more dragons by spring."

"Gestation period," Sinjin said.

"Whatever. The point is that what your mom said was gonna happen actually happened, and now all these people are stuck in here. And let me tell you, stay away from the kitchens if you can. Sheesh, you'd think the world had already come to its end. It's like a kicked anthill down there, and Miss Mariss is in rare form. Last time I went down there for a snack, I came back soaked and covered in flour, and I can't do as much as I used to. That nearly dying stuff takes it out of you."

"I suppose that rules out some food, then," Sinjin said, his hand on his aching stomach.

"Are you kidding? Sometimes you just have to take your chances, and I need food," Durin said. Besides, with the old man following us, it's not like we can hide."

Sinjin noticed a tremble in his friend's hands that had never been there before. Guilt stabbed at him.
"All this is your fault,"
echoed in his mind. "Do you think my parents will live? I mean, do you think they will come back?" Sinjin tried to keep the hitch from his voice, but it betrayed him, as did the tears that gathered in his eyes.

"Of course they'll come back. Soon. I promise."

Sinjin wished Durin wouldn't make promises he couldn't keep.

"This is not a good place for you boys to be spendin' time. How 'bout we head to the kitchens and get some food? I'll keep Miss Mariss occupied while you make your escape." Sinjin looked up at Morif in surprise. The weathered warrior smiled back. "I may be missing one eye, but my ears work just fine for an old man."

Durin winced. "Uh. Sorry."

Morif gave him a light smack on the back of the head. "Let's go."

What Durin had said about the kitchens was not as much of an exaggeration as Sinjin had thought, and the two ducked into the guard hall while Morif shouldered his way into the kitchens. The guard hall was eerily quiet; normally one of the more boisterous rooms in the hold, it stood nearly empty. Never before had so many guards been needed on duty at one time.

Durin and Sinjin sat at one of the long tables, feeling silly with so much table all to themselves. Morif returned sooner than either of them would have thought possible given the mass of people around the kitchens, but Sinjin supposed if there was anyone who could command the attention of so many, it was Morif. The man seemed to be afraid of nothing, and Sinjin had always looked up to him. He'd also gotten to see the other side of Morif--the side that loved to play pranks and to make Millie's face turn red.

"This is the best I could do at the moment," Morif said as he sat down across from them. Before him was a pile of food that would have lasted Sinjin three days. "Too bad there wasn't enough for you two."

Durin and Sinjin both laughed and grabbed some food. It was good to have his friend back, and Sinjin drew strength from that, but chilling fears still haunted him.

"There are a whole lot of people trying to figure out how to best help your mom and dad," Morif said, perhaps reading Sinjin's mind or perhaps he'd simply overheard the question earlier. "I think they'll be all right. When your mom traveled astrally from Ohmahold, she was gone for at least twice as long as your parents have been gone for. Worrying won't do you or them any good, so try to stay positive. A little work always helps keep my mind from worry, and Miss Mariss did say something about needing more flour."

Durin rolled his eyes.

* * *

Catrin's spirit floated in the half light, drifting on the breeze, feeling so weary. All she wanted to do was rest. Nearby, Prios lacked substance, becoming diffuse and wavering like smoke in the wind. Only the idea of losing him kept Catrin from giving up and letting herself become part of the oneness once again. She knew that, while she may have been created, she could not be destroyed; she could only change form. The need to protect Prios became impossible to ignore, and she called out for him. He did not respond immediately, and she willed herself closer, yelling his name. His form wavered and looked as if he would be whisked away and dissolved until that which was Prios was no longer whole.

"Prios! Wait! Don't go!" Catrin willed the words to him.

Slowly he gathered himself. Then he turned to her and smiled. "Oh. There you are. I've been looking for you."

If Catrin could have cried, she would have, but in this formless state, all she could do was hurt with no tears to release the pain. Both knew they were dying, yet neither of them could do anything to prevent it. Barred from returning to their bodies by what seemed a sea of dark shadows, Catrin and Prios had retreated to a place that was, for her, familiar. The place had once been her home before she and her family had been driven north. It was not to the hearth she went but instead to the place where she had spent most of her time: the barn. This place constantly reminded her of who and what she was, and this was perhaps the only thing that had saved them thus far. Prios seemed unable to anchor himself as firmly, and Catrin exhausted herself watching over him, protecting him, and finding him when he searched for her.

"I think we should go back," Prios said, and Catrin noticed once again that his energetic form was whole and his spirit spoke to her with its lips and mouth. It had been disconcerting at first since her husband normally spoke only in her mind. The loss of his tongue at the hands of Archmaster Belegra had prevented normal speech. "We'll die if we stay here."

"We've tried," Catrin said. "They are out there, waiting to tear us apart. I can feel them. I've nothing left to fight them with. If we leave, we die." Though the air reeked of power, her spirit was weak and insubstantial. Outside waited darkness that seemed to feed on the light of the many comets that now crowded the skies. It frightened her how quickly her world had changed.

"I could go out alone and lead them away," Prios said. "Maybe then you could get back. The world needs you. Sinjin needs you."

"The world and Sinjin need us both."

Weariness once again set in, just the act of talking depleting what little willpower Catrin still possessed. She turned back to Prios, expecting him to say something, but his form was fading, his eyes fixed on a point far away, and Catrin once again doubted either of them would survive.

* * *

Clouds hung low in the sky, and the light of a dozen herald globes lit the way as Chase and his men escorted farmers to their lands. The livestock were gone, much of Lowerton destroyed, but Chase was determined to get all the food, oil, salt, spices, and other goods they could into the hold. In fortnight since the dragons had arrived, the hold's stores dwindled far too rapidly. Crops continued to ripen under the eyes of the dragons during the day, and it seemed one male in particular had claimed this area as his territory. The people called him Reaver. Venturing out in the daylight meant risking being eaten.

Bats flew overhead, attracted by the moths that gathered around the herald globes. Chase and his men were armed with spears, but it was truly little defense against a dragon attack. Only the darkness kept the monsters at bay. Many within Dragonhold would no longer use the hold's name, and Chase felt guilty for having come up with the name in the first place, as it now seemed grossly inappropriate. He couldn't have known things would work out this way, but that didn't stop him from tormenting himself about it.

Climbing along the terraces that lined the valley was treacherous in daylight, and the group moved slowly. A yawn slipped past Chase's defenses; the guards on duty pretended not to notice. Double shifts had become the norm, and the number of people caught sleeping on duty was embarrassing, but they were all overtaxed and trying to adjust. This new life they lived was far less forgiving than what they had known for most of their lives, and the people of the Godfist were a hearty folk who knew their share of hard times. What lay ahead looked grim, and everyone knew it. Even Master Edling seemed to see the need for unity, in his own haughty way. Messengers had been arriving nightly since the dragons first arrived, requesting refuge for a large number of citizens from south of the Wall. Chase knew it was a game of resources; that much he had learned from the Zjhon invasion, if nothing else. Every additional body in the hold was an additional body to feed.