The Balance of Power (Godsland Series: Books Four, Five, and Six) (24 page)

Again, pain erupted. Thorakis and Seethe attacked with overwhelming force and ferocity that exceeded anything Catrin had ever seen in nature. She knew the role of predators, but nothing she'd ever seen compared to the overwhelming desire to destroy--not to kill and eat, but to abolish from existence. This kind of evil would consume the world, and Catrin knew she was among the few things stopping that gruesome future from coming to pass.

"The future is not already written!" her spirit screamed as she blocked an attack and launched another of her own. Demons now stood over Prios, Strom, Durin, and Trinda--only the wisp of a girl alert and able to fight. Again Catrin thought it strange that she thought of Trinda as a child when the girl was actually her elder. And that frailty gave Catrin no confidence that she would be any use at all in a fight.

In that instant, Catrin had to make a choice: prevent the demons from escaping into the darkness with her son or save the lives of her husband and friends. Trinda's eyes looked up to her, pleading for mercy, and though Catrin had never really liked her, she rushed in to save them all, flames searing the air before her. Demons flew from her path, even as others carried her baby boy back into the depths of the hold.

Turning to race after them before it was too late, Catrin felt fiery claws rake her soul, and they bit deep. Thorakis used Koe to flay her, and the familiarity of the attacking energy made it all the more difficult to defend against. Even as Catrin was reeling from Koe's attack, feeling as if she were gulping for air even if not in her physical form, there was no way she could defend herself from the Staff of Life. Its ancient power slammed into her with unrelenting force; it knew her weaknesses and exploited every one. In the next instant, Catrin was back in her body, trying to suck in enough air to scream, then wanting nothing more than to cry as she looked out at what she knew was the last of the regent dragons.

Kyrien wept.

Epilogue

* * *

Crying as he ran, Durin couldn't believe how things had turned out. His best friend was gone, and there was nothing he could do about it. Brother Vaughn had either escaped or drowned, and there was no way for him to know which. His entire family's fate was unknown to him, and he doubted he would ever see any of them again. It seemed the end of the world had come, and he could see no possible future that included happiness or family. It was the kind of realization that could drive the weak to their knees, but through all of this, Durin had learned one thing: he was not as weak as he had once believed. Now he realized that he had not been lazy as much as he had been afraid to apply himself since that left him open to failure. Now he realized that failure was necessary for success, something that seemed far too philosophical for his usual thoughts. Durin, though, had left childhood behind in recent days, and there was no time for such thoughts.

Running alongside him was Strom, who carried a still unconscious Prios over his shoulder. Trinda ran with them, having difficulty keeping up. Durin thought she might want him to carry her, but he was not Sinjin, and even if he had grown up quickly, some of his childhood prejudices remained. Trinda would have to stand on her own two legs if she wished to survive. Even as he had the thought, he knew he would not leave her to die, but that didn't mean he had to like saving her. What was even more difficult was for him to admit that she had saved him. Strom had been the only thing defending them when Durin had come to, and Durin had been little help, even armed with Strom's wicked blade. Only when Trinda had stepped up and chastised the demons did the battle turn in their favor. It still seemed unreal to Durin that Trinda could do such a thing.

"Bad demons!" was all she had said, and it was as if she had struck them all with just her words. No matter what Durin believed, that moment had been the key to their escape, and only by moving deeper into darkened halls did they manage to gain any measure of safety. Again, Durin had to admit that Trinda had saved them since she had retrieved the herald globe, and to Durin's amazement, she had somehow recharged it. This girl was really starting to irritate him.

"We're completely lost," Strom whispered. "But maybe that's a good thing." Groaning as he shifted Prios on his shoulder, he looked as if he might not make it much farther, and Prios gave no indication of stirring.

"I want to go outside," Trinda said.

"I'd like to fly too," Durin said, not expecting a response.

"It's this way."

Given no other direction, Strom followed Trinda, the light of the herald globe drifting away as Durin remained where he was. The darkness closed in all too quickly, and Durin raced to catch up.

"Are you sure you know where you're going?" Durin asked after a number of turns down seemingly random halls. They passed halls that were still filled with items, but Trinda did not waver in her course, and Durin's imagination was left to run wild as he caught only glimpses of the treasures that waited within. He'd heard the stories about the artifacts Catrin had found at Ohmahold, and he imagined them stumbling on a similar cache of wondrous things. The thoughts helped to keep him from thinking about the fate of everyone else.

When Trinda walked into a circular hall and stopped, it took Durin and Strom by complete surprise. Without a word, she just stared at the markings on the floor of the chamber. Immediately Durin knew this room was special and the carved tiles were more than mere decoration.

"Step on the one that looks like mountains," Trinda said, looking at Durin.

Examining the tiles, Durin spotted one in the third row of tiles away from him, farther away than he guessed Trinda could jump. Even for Durin, he had to take a running leap to make it, and in mid air he heard Trinda suck in a breath. Perhaps she had not expected him to do as she asked; Durin wasn't quite sure why he had. When he landed, the stone sank beneath his weight, and he had a sick feeling in his gut.

"Not that one, silly," Trinda said.

Durin's sick feeling intensified as a low grinding noise filled the halls and the stone beneath their feet trembled.

Feral

Book Two of
The Balance of Power trilogy

Brian Rathbone

Chapter 1

Permanence is an illusion.

--Nat Dersinger, prophet

* * *

Shades of darkness crowded close, creaking and rocking in the muffled silence. Unable to move, Sinjin Volker struggled against his bonds without effect, always expecting something to come hurling at him from the darkness; it had happened before. With the ship rolling beneath him, he imagined finding his end at the bottom of some nameless ocean. Those on this ship bore no love or humor, and though they kept him alive, he wondered how much longer they would do so. Even after days aboard the ship, his guts churned. His mother had loved sailing. It was a painful memory. Sinjin almost smiled at the memory of his father, who had secretly admitted that he hated sailing and hoped never to step foot on a ship ever again, especially one captained by Kenward Trell. Though this memory was a fond one, it did little to raise Sinjin's spirits or calm his stomach. He did not share his mother's love of sailing. Had she traveled in the belly of a foul-smelling ship while trussed up like a spring pig, he guessed she would feel the same.

Without warning, a beam of light poured in and brought searing pain. Sinjin averted his eyes, able to discern only a silhouette. Once again, he tested bonds that held him fast. Nothing had ever terrified him more than being helpless in the hands of his enemies. The light retreated as quickly as it had come. The hatch slid silently closed.

Sinjin sucked in a ragged breath. Delicate hands removed the gag and immediately clamped down on his mouth.

"Do not speak," came a whisper. Sinjin could not identify the voice, but his addled mind knew it was familiar. "I didn't know," the voice continued. "I would never have gone along with this. Now you listen to me and listen to me good. If you want to get out of this alive, you're going to have to trust me. When I take away my hand, I only want to hear a quiet, one-word answer. Do you understand?"

Sinjin nodded his head, and she slowly took her hand from his face.

"Do you trust me?"

Cool air rushed in, and Sinjin breathed deeply, not caring about the stench at that moment. His memory fuzzy, Sinjin tried to understand what was going on, but he just found himself confused and frightened. "Yes," he said after an overlong pause.

"Meaning, no. You're still an idiot."

"Where are they taking me?" Sinjin asked, his mind starting to warm up.

"Somewhere you do not want to go," she said. "Somewhere I don't want to go," she added in a soft whisper.

The pain in her voice was clear, but Sinjin could think of nothing to say.

The darkness was silent for a time, but the sounds of boots on the deck soon sent Kendra scrambling back out of the hatch. For a brief moment, he saw her face, frightened and tense, yet he still could not claim to fully believe her. There had been no kindness between them in the past, and he could see no reason for it to start now. Still, he was surrounded by enemies, and no one else was extending a hand in friendship.

The sound of boots still approaching drove the thoughts from his mind as he realized that his gag hung below his chin. In a split second, he managed to grab a piece of the gag in his teeth and pull it mostly back into place. The rough-looking man who dropped into the hold barely spared him a glance as he retrieved a wooden crate from the stacks of supplies. Another man reached down from above, and Sinjin prayed they would leave him alone this time. After the case was lifted from the hold, the man climbed out without a word, and Sinjin was plunged back into darkness.

* * *

Those gathered in Catrin's Vale had not yet recovered from the shock of the loss of the regent dragons--Kyrien now being the last of his kind. It seemed too impossible to be true, but that fact hung over every moment, especially since Kyrien rested among them, looking as if he might follow his brethren to the afterlife at any moment. The
Slippery Eel
lay on her side, a constant reminder that most of them would be stranded on the Firstland. There had been few words since Kyrien had last spoken in Catrin's mind.

Now I will accept your healing.

That single thought, full of pain, and the admission of weakness were the only things he'd had the strength to convey. Her voice had cracked when she told this to the others.

"Please help me get the saddle off of him," she said, her voice a little more steady, and those around her assisted wordlessly. No one else seemed willing to speak in this new world in which they found themselves. Everything had changed, and there was no chance of it ever going back. Knowing this, Catrin laid her hands on Kyrien. Pelivor swayed in the light breeze and lent his energy to Catrin and, thus, to Kyrien by proxy. To his eyes, it seemed the poor beast ought to already be dead, but there was a stubborn refusal to die that made Pelivor proud. For Kyrien, he would give of himself freely. Feeling her eyes upon him, Pelivor turned to Catrin. Her smile was sad and forced, and it was almost worse than seeing her cry. Pelivor wanted no more of that. Kyrien's aura, though, radiated remorse, and it was difficult not to take on his dangerous and black mood.

Still trying to read Catrin's expression, Pelivor found himself lost in old feelings, and he castigated himself for such treachery. Prios was his friend, and yet he found himself tempted. She was here, in front of him, wounded, her heart broken. Prios was not here. He could not comfort her. Should not Pelivor comfort her in his stead? Would his friend not want his wife to feel consolation and love? No. He had to stop himself before he gave away his feelings.

Catrin's eyes told him that he had betrayed them long before. She knew. She would not act but she knew. It was a heady thing, and he slowly pulled his energy back. The instant she sensed his desire to withdraw, Catrin released him, and the suddenness of it left him reeling. Wishing he had kept his thoughts to himself, he watched her turn away. Their energy no longer connected, she felt distant and receding as she concentrated on Kyrien. The feeling left Pelivor longing.

Looking at the last of the regent dragons, he could see no visible effect from Catrin's healing. He had felt and experienced the deep impact, though, as if it were his own essence that had been revived. Instead of healing each individual injury, Catrin fed energy to Kyrien's core being and allowed his body to heal from the inside out. The cuts and gouges in his hide still looked angry and grave, but his breathing was deeper and steadier. All the while Catrin drew on the mighty saddle that now sat alongside Kyrien. When finally the dragon forced her away and made her stop, Catrin stepped back, looking unsteady on her feet, the moon and comet light casting her in soft hues and shadow. Even drained and bedraggled, she was beautiful.

Pelivor looked to the saddle. The dragon ore stones were now cloudy despite retaining their glossy sheen, proof of how much energy Catrin had drawn from them.

Rest,
came pure, raw compulsion from Kyrien, and Catrin was defenseless against it. Pelivor felt as much as heard the command, and he caught her before she fell to the ground, but only just, and he helped her back to the
Slippery Eel.

With Catrin safe and comfortable, Pelivor returned to the vale and joined Kenward at one of the massive rock formations that provided a commanding view of the valley beyond. The memory of regent dragons perched on those rocks not so long ago was like a knife in Pelivor's chest. They had failed the dragons. Even though he hadn't been with Catrin physically during that battle, he had sent his energy to her, but they had failed. Part of him could not believe such a thing had worked, but any excitement over the accomplishment was doused by the painful reality that it hadn't been enough to save the regent dragons.

"The black devils are leaving," Kenward said in a flat voice. Moving to his side, Pelivor saw what he meant. Bathed mostly in long shadows and violet, the valley was filled with pinpricks of light from slowly moving torches. Inexorably they marched toward the coast, where tall-masted ships waited, silhouetted against the horizon.

"If the
Eel
were still in the water, she'd almost certainly be sunk," Kenward said.

Pelivor wasn't certain if this statement inspired Kenward to new hope or if it was simply a reminder of how impossible their situation really was. Pelivor chose hope. Seeing the armies of demons leaving and giants being loaded onto massive barges also made him wonder, though, where this black navy would strike next. No force the world had ever known could stand against such a foe, and the thought made him shiver. Returning to Catrin's side, he yielded to Kyrien's continued insistence that he join her in sleep.

* * *

When the sun sent isolated rays of light through a patchwork of clouds, Pelivor stirred, though part of him wished to sleep longer. Catrin was no longer beside him, and he rose to look for her. Kenward and the crew slept deeply, their snores filling the valley. When Pelivor saw the glittering saddle on Kyrien's back, he stopped short. Though the dragon's hide was crisscrossed with deep chasms and slashes, there was dark, shiny flesh now covering them.

There is no pain.

Having a dragon speak directly in his mind was not something Pelivor was entirely prepared for, and his reaction proved it as he fell backward, landing on his rear and staring up at Kyrien, agape. Catrin had obviously heard the same and more while she worked at cinching the girths.

"You're not really going to fly again so soon, are you?"

Catrin looked at him but did not smile. Her eyes carried an apology he didn't want to accept. She was leaving him. She was leaving the crew of the
Slippery Eel
on the Firstland, alone. The thought was terrifying. Even if the dark army did leave the Firstland, how would he and the others ever get off this unforgiving rock?

Continuing to strap herself into the saddle, Catrin's expression changed into something that frightened Pelivor more than the black army. Smoldering rage built in Catrin like a boiling kettle, and he could feel her drawing on the saddle, its ancient store of power still vast and mostly restored after basking in the light of the comets. It seemed to Pelivor as if Catrin had the power to tear the world apart; it was frightening and exhilarating.

Kyrien shifted beneath her, appearing to take on Catrin's mood. The fierce scowl he cast around the vale just about sent Pelivor scrambling for cover. Shining like the sun, Catrin looked like the goddess come to life. So terrifying was her beauty that Pelivor fell to his knees, the lush grasses cradling him, reminding him that this place had magic of its own. Natural or not, this place was magical, and the light radiating from Pelivor's dear friend only served to illuminate that fact.

"When the armies have gone," she said after a moment more, her voice loud and clear, "gather wood and build a fire. A ship will come for you."

Pelivor's head slumped forward.

"This is not the end," Catrin said. "You'll have to return this to me one day."

When Pelivor looked up, there was confusion in his eyes, which grew wide when Catrin handed him the spider stone.

"I couldn't--" he said.

"But you will," Catrin said, her expression distant and haunted. "You must keep them all safe, my dear friend. I never meant for this to happen, but I'm putting most of those I love in your care."

Pelivor looked up, unable to hide his emotions, and her look softened for a brief moment. "I am sorry, Pelivor, so very sorry." Those words brought Pelivor great pain, and that seemed to make Catrin even angrier than she had been. Agitated, Kyrien turned, climbed the nearby rocks, and, his tail twitching, launched himself into the air, giving Pelivor no more chance to say what was in his heart.

* * *

Though the sounds of demons within Dragonhold remained, the attacks had stopped, and Miss Mariss insisted everyone stay quiet, even though there was little doubt the demons knew they were there. Still, the kitchens were eerily quiet when the hollow echo began. Gradually it grew louder and louder and higher and higher in pitch until dust and the debris of ages began to issue forth from long-dormant channels.

"What have those fools done this time!" Miss Mariss exclaimed, earning a few glares from those she'd silenced, but that didn't deter her. "When I get my hands on those two, I'm gonna--" Her words were cut short when brackish water gushed from the opening in the wall and began to fill the basin that had been holding a store of brown rice. The rice poured over the ledge, along with the water, and ancient channels that had baffled them all since the hold's discovery were once again filled with flowing water. Despite the dust that hung in the air and the overflowing water, there was a sense of jubilation. Even if it did not solve all their problems, it was something magical and unexpected. It was as if part of the keep had come back to life, not unlike when the central fire had been lit. The water seemed to play counterpoint to the fire, and together they made Dragonhold breathe. One channel brought icy cold water, which was steadily becoming clearer, and another yielded steaming hot water. Throughout the hold, channels were blocked or had supplies and other items stacked in them. Water began to pool and spill from the channels that were clear, and Martik stood watching the situation unfold. Deep vibrations thrummed through the heels of his boots, and he could feel it in his teeth. Some of the tremors were more violent and made him wonder if the keep would collapse.