The Balance of Power (Godsland Series: Books Four, Five, and Six) (26 page)

Another shout rose from beneath them as they passed, and Kyrien soared higher as the alarm bells rang. The ferals, it seemed, had recovered from their fixation and were in the process of dispersing. The alarms, though, had them all coming toward that sound. The sky ahead became aerial chaos; only instinct kept the dragons from colliding as all of them turned at once to intercept Kyrien.

Catrin launched no early attack and waited for as many of them as possible to get close. Trying to appear wounded and weak, she delayed, her true power kept hidden. She knew these cowardly beasts, and she wanted them to believe that the odds were overwhelmingly in their favor. Instead of worrying about how dangerous their prey was, she wanted them to worry over getting their share of the meal.

Reaver soared closer, an avatar of madness at the head of this storm of violence. Waiting was terrifying, but she had to let them get closer. Reaver alone instilled debilitating fear, but the raging horde was indescribable. Such fear should not exist, for it is almost more than the mind can bear. What approached was madness. She could feel the will of Reaver trying to crush her, trying to subjugate her will, trying to find a way to shatter it completely. Like water through sand, Catrin felt her energy draining away, and every breath became less her own. The gnarled beast had synchronized its breathing with hers, matched its heartbeat with hers; it felt her fear and knew her pain and Catrin screamed.

Kyrien was there.

Unaffected by Reaver's psychic attacks, Kyrien did something that Catrin had never imagined: he took control of her body. Using Catrin, the saddle, and the lance, he leveled an attack on Reaver. Though it felt as if the attack had been wrenched from her gut, it struck Reaver so hard, he looked like a swatted fly.

Two other ferals were injured in the first strike, but Catrin struggled against Kyrien's will. "Neither of you can control me!" she screamed, and Kyrien immediately released the compulsion.

There was no time for anything more. Dragons flew in close; others landed nearby where crowds of men parted.

Catrin launched a series of attacks that would have made Prios proud. Short bursts of thunderous energy cleaved the air and struck dragons, sending ripples through their bodies as the force of the blows spread. At least a dozen dropped from the skies after a single strike and did not rise again; others regained the heights. Aerial chaos reached a new zenith, and only Kyrien could predict where they would be in the next instant.

When Kyrien leveled off for an instant, he gave Catrin the chance to launch another round of attacks. Using the air itself as a weapon, Catrin created a massive concussion. After what had felt like tearing the winds apart, they soared through a cloud of dragons in a variety of states. Some were stunned, others retreating, and a handful were in free fall, quite possible already dead. Kyrien did what he could to evade the attacks of dragons still in the fight, but there was no avoiding some impacts, and Catrin did her best to move away from where the next contact would be.

The air before them once again cleared. Blue skies showed no hint of the danger behind them. But the battle was far from won.

Looking back, Catrin set her jaw. Along the valley floor raced a dozen smaller dragons, now with black-robed men atop their backs. Catrin wasn't certain if Reaver was dead or incapacitated since she could find no sign of his body. For the moment, these riders presented an even greater threat, and she could not let them escape. Turning away from the riderless ferals, Kyrien and Catrin soared over the Pinook Valley, gaining on the mounted formation. Edling's Wall rose up before them. It took a moment for Catrin to understand what she saw. The massive trade gates along with much of the surrounding wall had been blasted away. Almost too late Catrin saw the black scales that waited just beyond the open gate.

Rising to his full height, Reaver extended his mighty wings and roared in triumph. His roar was cut short as Catrin leveled an especially deadly attack at his exposed chest. Reaver's flesh moved like water as it waved away from the impact. Fingers of plasma rolled over the screaming dragon, and the force drove the massive creature backward.

Kyrien landed, his claws on the mighty black dragon's neck. Pushing off as hard as he could, he thrust Reaver the rest of the way over backward and sent himself and Catrin back into the air, which began exploding around them.

Chapter 3

Creation is the act of being unwilling to allow something not to exist.

--Aleese Berunda, artist

* * *

Catrin had often wondered what it would feel like to be hit by one of her attacks, and now she knew. The energy felt as if it would rip her apart from the inside out, and the pain could not be compared to anything she'd ever experienced. Each time the pain from one excruciating attack eased, another slammed her from a different angle, and she was tossed from side to side by the force. These men on dragonback were potent and fearsome adversaries; she could feel their hatred of her. She would have screamed if she could have gathered any air into her chest; this attack would surely suffocate her if it continued. In the next instant, though, she was sucking air into her lungs as they had turned upside-down and the attacks simultaneously ceased. Feeling as if her ribs were broken and with blood on her lips, Catrin could do little more than breathe, and that was difficult.

Turbulent air buffeted them, and Kyrien's flight path wobbled. Through their bond she could sense his pain, but she could not form a cohesive thought required for action. With growing horror, she watched Kyrien's head jerked side to side, absorbing the attacks. With a thunderous crack, a mighty blow caught Kyrien under the chin, snapping his head back toward Catrin. In the next instant, they were plummeting toward a rocky death. Knowing Kyrien was unconscious and would be unable to save them, Catrin quickly, almost instinctively, mimicked what she'd done when flying the
Slippery Eel.
The knowledge that the ship would never sail or fly again haunted Catrin, but she had no time for those thoughts. Flying an unconscious dragon was nothing like flying a ship, and Catrin nearly crashed them into the trees. The dark riders had turned and were gaining on her, their dragons looking fresh and ready for a fight.

Getting low in the saddle, Catrin connected with it and the lance she held, her body humming with power, the vibration singing in her ears. Air shimmering around her, she focused on the approaching formation, which was tight and orderly. Reaching out from them with deadly intent, red lightning tested Catrin's formidable defenses. She waited until they were so close that they could not turn away before she launched a single, concentrated attack. A craterous implosion again turned the skies themselves into a potent weapon. Ferals folded like dried husks and dropped from the sky--all, that was, save two.

With a suddenness that made it seem surreal to Catrin, a dragon and rider appeared beneath. The rider's hood was blown back, and his mottled gray flesh could be seen within. His madness was complete, and he hurled insanity at her. There was no pain, no fire, no iron; there was only disorienting madness. Where was she again? What was she supposed to be doing?

The questions took only an instant to cross her mind, but that instant was all the time the feral needed to close the gap between them. The feral sailed toward Kyrien's exposed belly, knowing it would have no trouble killing an unconscious dragon.

Power pulsed along the lance Catrin held, and she hoped her control of their flight was sufficient. Doing as she had done so many years before on the
Slippery Eel,
Catrin created a wing structure that slowed them. By applying this to only one wing, she caused them to suddenly spiral downward and directly into the feral's path. There was no time for dragon or rider to avoid the collision, and Catrin thrust out with the lance. The gleaming weapon danced with energy, and power leaped from its tip before it touched the breast of that mighty feral dragon. Momentum carried both dragons forward, and the lance's impact pressed Catrin backward until the back of her head touched Kyrien's scales. Feeling as if her legs might break, Catrin watched the wild-eyed feral impale itself.

The deeper the lance sank, the more slowly the feral approached, until the beast reversed direction and started to fall. Catrin was nearly pulled from the saddle by her grip on the lance. Remembering the demon with the glass lance that had killed the regent queen, Catrin gave the handle a twist. The lance did not shatter as the glass one's had, and the pommel was wrenched from her hands. Along with the dying dragon and its doomed rider, Catrin's lance fell.

Reeling from the release, Catrin lost sight of the remaining dragon and rider, and she decided it would be best to let that one go. Her vision swam, and Kyrien had only begun to stir. His wings were doing more of the work, but Catrin knew they would fall from the sky if she did not keep them stabilized. She could think of only one place safe for them to land, and she guided them north and east, an odd feeling in her gut, as if none of this were real.

When the sands of the Arghast Desert came into view, warm air greeted them. Before Catrin could figure out how to safely land, Kyrien returned to full, if tenuous, consciousness and instinctively used the thermals to gain altitude. After taking a few moments to compose himself and convey to Catrin that he would live, Kyrien used the altitude to gain momentum. Soon they were skimming over the desert sand. Catrin's head spun with the sensation of speed as the sands flowed beneath them, broken by plains of rock, some with openings visible in vertical rock faces.

On the horizon came what Catrin had been looking for: tall peaks surrounding a mostly hidden valley visible from only a specific angle. There waited soft sands and cool water and the tribes of Arghast. Catrin could only hope that they remained loyal to her and would welcome her and Kyrien and protect them. It was, again, more than she wanted to ask of the Arghast, who had already given more than her conscience could bear.

Lush grasses surrounded emerald green water, and thick-maned horses grazed amid the rich pastures. With a single roar, Kyrien announced their coming, which brought something akin to controlled panic to the valley.

From what Catrin could see, most of the Arghast within the valley were running to their horses. One horse had broken free from the lines and was subdued only when a fleet-footed man blindfolded the animal with a blanket. From outside of the valley, riders sent long trails of dust into the air as they raced toward the valley entrance.

Kyrien was sluggish and Catrin knew she would have to guide him in. The peaks surrounding the oasis were so tall that Catrin dreaded the thought of having to descend into the narrow valley from such a great height; it would have been a terrifying experience with Kyrien under complete control. As it was, they were both just barely conscious.

Men on horseback gathered near the valley entrance, and they pointed wildly into the skies behind her and Kyrien. The meaning was clear from their frantic movements, and when the attack struck, it at least did not come as a complete surprise. Pain exploded all over Catrin's body as every one of her muscles contracted as hard as they could. Red lightning flowed around her, and she lost her grip, only the saddle straps keeping her on Kyrien's back. The shouting from below grew louder, and the Arghast did their best to attack the feral and rider that were bearing down on Catrin and Kyrien. The sound of metal striking dragon scales rang out and echoed within the valley.

With the smell of burning hair heavy in her nostrils, Catrin did her best to catch her breath. The mountains rushed toward them with what seemed impossible speed, and Catrin prepared herself for impact. They were moving too fast to land outside the oasis, as Catrin had expected they would. Suddenly Catrin's guts moved to her ears as Kyrien executed a drastic maneuver.

Throwing himself up onto his left wing, he put Catrin in the awkward position of staring sideways at rock formations that were hurtling toward her. Despite her trust in Kyrien, she screamed. Below, his left wingtip nearly touched the valley floor and a trail of dust rose up in its wake. Above, his other wing twitched and flexed as he avoided jagged edges. Ducking as low to the saddle as she could, Catrin prayed Kyrien would find a way to squeeze them both through. In an instant it was over, and Kyrien just as suddenly righted himself.

Whipped from side to side by the unexpected move, Catrin barely had time to regain her handholds and brace herself before they slammed into cold, green water. At first Kyrien dragged his claws in the water, slowing them, but then he gave a mighty grunt, and they dropped into the lake with the full force of his weight. A tremendous roar filled the air, and a wave of white water flew before them. Still their speed carried them forward, and the air was forced from Catrin's lungs in a whoosh as they slowed.

Ahead, the water grew shallow before ending at a narrow beach, which opened into a slim pasture of grassland. The pasture was relatively small given the confines of the valley, and horses crowded, trembling against the valley wall. Kyrien skimmed across the water and pitched forward when his chest struck sand. His mighty head stretched into the grassland, and his jaw snapped shut when it struck the ground, most of his body still in the water. The horses beyond were soaked by the wave that preceded the dragon, and they stood trembling and drenched. Kyrien simply gave a great sigh and closed his eyes. If Catrin hadn't been strapped in, she would have fallen from the saddle in a heap.

The noise level in the valley continued to rise, and Catrin felt every hair on her body stand. Turning to look behind her, she saw the feral and rider break through the narrow valley entrance. Even as they righted themselves, Catrin could feel this man gathering energy and focusing his will. This attack would do more than singe her hair. Drawing a deep breath, Catrin prepared to defend herself, but the tribes of Arghast came to her aid.

They did not take kindly to those who trespassed on their lands, and this valley was among their most sacred places. Without the benefit of even a saddle, a tribesman rode atop a shining black stallion whose mane and foretop flowed like the sea at night. Long spear in his hand, he slowly but steadily stood on the horse's back, which was nearly level and steady despite the full gallop at which they traveled.

As the feral approached, its rider stood in his saddle, which gave Catrin a good view of the dark leather that encased his lower torso. It gripped the man in a way that kept him secure while allowing for a limited range of motion, just as Catrin's saddle did for her, yet accomplished in a completely different manner. She had only an instant to make this observation as the charging tribesman leaped from atop his horse. In a single, fluid motion, the man flipped in the air directly in front of the feral dragon, which snapped its jaws at him. Just before the dark rider released his attack, the Arghast used both arms to throw the spear with all his might. Red plasma reached out to Catrin in what she knew was the precursor to red lightning, but then the spear struck the dark rider full in the chest. The man's torso appeared to implode from the impact, and only the saddle kept him in place. Still the feral came. The Arghast warrior, rotating in mid air, was about to hit the sand when the feral's tail whipped to the side and struck him like a stone sledge.

The man who'd saved Catrin's life now lay unmoving in the sand. Overwhelming sadness and responsibility welled up in Catrin, and she nearly swooned. Kyrien, who had not moved a muscle since their landing must have been saving his energy for one last attack. His tail flicked upward and struck the feral an equally devastating blow. The mighty, winged beast reeled. Carrying too much speed, it careened across the valley. With two great flaps of its wings, the feral tried to gain altitude, but it was too late. The dragon slammed into the valley walls with enough force to break a section of stone free from where it had rested for eons.

The Arghast and their horses retreated from the area, and no one was hurt when the stone and dragon plummeted to the grassland below. Arghast warriors rushed in to make sure the feral dragon was dead.

For a time, only the nickering of nervous horses filled the air, and Catrin tried to focus her thoughts. Slowly she started to unbuckle herself, but a crowd of Arghast elders erupted into cries begging her to stop. It took a moment for Catrin to understand, but then she stopped. This seemed to appease the men, and they approached slowly, their hoods pulled back to reveal their faces, and their heads bowed to Kyrien, who was oblivious to their homage.

"May we look at saddle?" a man asked, and Catrin thought she recognized him, but she could not recall his name.

The only thing she could manage was a lopsided nod.

The men were quick about their business. They unbuckled Catrin's straps, noting how they worked as they did so. Her head now lolled from side to side, and she was only vaguely aware of the commotion around her. There was a rushing, pounding sound in her ears, and the world took on an amber hue. Catrin slid from the saddle as soon as the straps were loosed, her limbs not responding, and she was glad the men were there to catch her. Younger men and women reached up to her from the water, and she was gently carried to shore, where she was placed in a tent of the finest Arghast silk. Strange faces looked down at her and murmured their concern. Wet cloths were used to wipe away blood and grime. Within moments, Catrin succumbed to sleep.

* * *

Durin wasn't sure which was worse, traveling upward on what he now called "the rock of death" or hurtling downward. When at last the stone beneath their feet began to slow its unreasonably fast descent, Durin prepared himself, not certain where they would end up. At least, he thought, it had gotten them out of the reach of Reaver, though bits of rock had rained down on them from his attacks on the mountain itself. Soon, though, Durin was rewarded with a most remarkable view. Before him were mighty fingers of rock reaching down toward the glistening surface of a subterranean lake. The rock of death had delivered them to the God's Eye.