The Balance of Power (Godsland Series: Books Four, Five, and Six) (32 page)

Clouds gathered around the Falcon Isles, which materialized beyond the black fleet. It would be easier to fight them in the water, and Catrin prepared herself for battle. Silently she instructed Kyrien and Prios to do the same. Both had already begun to do so.

A cry split the relative silence, and Catrin saw one of the lookouts pointing toward them. Surprise was no longer theirs.

The air pressure change was the only warning they had before dragons attacked from above. Kyrien dived steeply, leaving Catrin and Prios holding on and still straining against the harness. It was terrifying to feel as if you were going to be hurled into the open air at any time; the harness was strong, but even that would fail given enough force. As old as this saddle was, Catrin couldn't help but wonder if it would hold up under both their weight, though it showed no outward signs of stress.

Prios, the less firmly secured of the two, was breathing heavily, and Catrin could see his tensed, white hands trembling. His panic was entirely understandable. Doing her best to breathe in deeply while she could, Catrin hoped to keep from blacking out. Huge claws raked past her face, and Kyrien banked hard into the clouds.

Even within the turbulence and dismal visibility within the clouds, the ferals continued their attack. With what seemed complete disregard for their own safety, dragons dropped through the clouds like stones, likely to kill themselves and their prey if they collided at such speed. One passed near where Kyrien flew, and Catrin's eyes met those of the dragon as it passed. Immediately, the feral unfolded itself and slowed its descent. Knowing they had been found, Kyrien gave Catrin and Prios a quick warning then tucked his wings and dived toward the ships. Attacks launched from those ships, and Catrin let the buffeting wind become their shield. Instead of working against it to make it match her vision of a shield, she asked the air to protect them, and it conformed to her intent. It took a great deal less energy, and Catrin barely felt the stings of those attacks.

With their defenses easily maintained, Catrin concentrated again on locating Sinjin. The ships had been shifting and moving, and it took her a moment to find him. His light shone brighter now, and she cried at the thought of her son having hope from her presence. He would know now that she'd come for him, and he'd know how much she loved him.

* * *

Light and sudden movement brought Sinjin awake with a start. His aching body failed to respond when a voice shouted for him to move.

"Thorakis has ordered them transferred to one of the dragons," a voice said from above.

Sinjin and Kendra both cried out as they were grabbed and pulled roughly up to the deck. Their hands remained bound, and fear made Sinjin's heart race.

"She's attacking from above!" came another shout from the steerage.

These words brought hope to Sinjin, and now his heart thundered from the thought of possible rescue. His mother had come to save him. She was here, now, and that was why they had been brought on deck; that was why they were to be taken by a dragon. Sinjin prayed his mother got there first, prayed it would be Kyrien who grabbed them in his claws.

When it happened, it happened so fast that he didn't know who had grabbed him or if Kendra had also been taken. The answer came a moment later when her heard Kendra cursing at the dragon and trying to fight her way free. The beast just squeezed tighter, and Kendra screamed one last time before going limp. Afterward she lay very still in the feral dragon's claws.

"Kendra!" Sinjin shouted, the claws tightening around him as well, and he prayed they didn't get any tighter; already he was having difficulty breathing. Kendra didn't respond. Sinjin fumed. Though he didn't trust Kendra, he knew she did not deserve to be treated in such a manner, he wasn't even certain she was still alive. Who were they to kidnap them and to kill them? His anger grew, and a plan began to form in his mind. If only Kendra were still conscious, he thought, or at least alive.

That's when the thunder began.

* * *

Watching in horror, Catrin saw Sinjin's light grow brighter. She watched as he was brought out on deck, and she could do nothing. Kyrien moved in closer to the ships, but the attacks continued. While her defenses kept the assaults from inflicting serious injury, the energy of those strikes still slowed them and altered their course. Catrin was about to start attacking the other ships when the barrage from below intensified. The enemy seemed to have figured out that they were inflicting no harm; they concentrated instead on preventing Catrin from getting close to the ship where her son was held. Now that he was on deck and Catrin was unable to get to him, she realized that she'd put him in even greater danger. Sinjin was closer to death than ever before. He stood there, aboard an enemy ship, without even any shoes on. Kendra stood next to him, looking just as vulnerable. At any moment, both could be taken from her.

Then they were.

A great black mass blotted out the ship as it flew in between Kyrien and where Sinjin and Kendra were so woefully exposed. The mighty dragon swooped in and, in a single fluid motion, snatched Sinjin and Kendra in its claws. It felt like a knife blow to Catrin's chest, and she collapsed under the weight of it. Behind her, Prios tensed; he, too, knew their chance to rescue Sinjin from the deck of that ship was lost.

The dragon flew off as quickly as it could, and other dragons surrounded it, flying in erratic patterns that made it nearly impossible to tell which dragon had Sinjin and Kendra.

Screaming in frustration, Catrin readied herself to launch a massive attack. She communicated this to Prios and Kyrien, and they were ready to do the same. The three of them, for that brief time, were of a single mind, and when Catrin dropped their defenses, all three attacked the ships. New attacks sprang from below, and Catrin felt their bite; she knew Kyrien and Prios did as well, but each protected himself enough to prevent serious injury. Still, the pain was incentive not to take any direct hits.

With defenses erected and slowing them once again, the three prepared for another attack. Sweat streamed down Catrin's face as the effort of holding back the deluge of power taxed her will. Much of her effort went into using restraint and making sure she didn't burn up amid such potential energy. When she did release her power, she attempted to use it in ways that she could predict and control. It didn't always work out that way, even if it was her intention. Just as Catrin was about to drop the defenses again, she saw a group of ferals turn back and close in. On the backs of these dragons rode dark-robed men, and Catrin could feel their power; it polluted the air and smelled like the coming rain.

"I don't know if we're ready for this," Catrin said.

There will be a price.

Prios must have heard Kyrien as well, and they all accepted the truth. Prios squeezed Catrin's arm, and she dropped their defenses. Kyrien turned and dived then pulled up sharply to soar just above the water, their speed causing spray to leap from the water and swirl in their wake. Using the waves as a shield, Kyrien rode within the growing troughs, bringing them closer to the ships. The formation of dragons was close now; despite poor visibility, Catrin could see that there were five of them. One rider bore a long staff, and Catrin knew this was going to hurt.

Using all her energy to create a shield above them, Catrin left an opening along the waterline for Prios to attack the ships, and that was exactly what he did. Instead of trying to battle those aboard the ships, he attacked the ships themselves. This sudden change in tactic was especially effective the first time he used it. A half dozen ships were in various stages of sinking after only a single attack. Catrin should've been watching what was happening above them. When Thorakis's attack came, her shield was not enough.

His massive blow caught them off guard and slammed them into the water. Kyrien let out a giant woof when he struck the waves. At their speed, water might as well have been stone. Catrin and Prios were thrown forward by the impact, and Catrin's defenses failed completely. For an instant, they were simply floating in the water, unprotected. The dragons were coming in for another attack, and the ships were turning back to face them.

With several powerful strokes of his wings, Kyrien turned to face the wind and let it carry them upward. Koe's energy washed over Catrin, and having his potency aimed at her was more unnerving than the pain. Seeing the Staff of Life used for dark purposes made her want to vomit. It was the manifestation of life, and it should not be so polluted with wicked intent. The staff had given Catrin one of the greatest gifts in her life: absolution, the chance to make things right. Again she heard Chase in her mind, urging her to retrieve the staff from the Grove of the Elders. If only she'd listened, she might be using the staff to defend herself instead of defending herself against its awesome power. If Thorakis ever figured out how to tap its true potential, none of them would survive.

Prios regained his composure first and told Catrin to keep her defenses down until he signaled. This allowed Catrin to catch her breath, and she made no argument. Power welled up behind her, and the energy marched across her skin like ants; her mouth tasted of copper, and her teeth vibrated.

Releasing his entire store of power, Prios issued many small bursts of energy in sequence. With speed unlike any living creature Catrin had ever seen, Prios thrust his force into the enemy, though his body barely moved, the bursts of fiery plasma that issued from his hands scorched the air, roaring and hissing. When they struck Thorakis and his dragon, the plasma exploded into thousands of tiny spheres, each burning like the sun, and they clung to Thorakis's robes and Seethe's scales. With a roar of pain, the two dropped out of sight, presumably seeking water. Still Prios attacked, seeking out the remaining dragons and scorching their hides.

When the dragons fled, Prios turned his attention to the ships. Catrin had regained her breath, and she cast ropes of liquid fire into the ships beyond Prios's attack.

It seemed the battle had turned in their favor. That was until Kyrien suddenly lurched upward violently, slamming Catrin's face into the back of Kyrien's neck, nearly knocking her senseless. Prios slammed into the back of Catrin and was presumably faring no better. The ringing in her ears drowned out the sounds of battle, and it seemed like something from a dream when a dragon and rider swooped down at them, their speed difficult to believe.

Breathing in through her mouth since her nose was now filled with blood, Catrin issued a scream that she barely heard, and she launched a desperate attack. Even though she landed a direct hit, there was no stopping the momentum of the soaring beast, and its unconscious rider's limp hand struck Catrin and Prios a blow as they passed.

There was not much more that Catrin, Prios, or Kyrien could do. They were wounded and weak, and though the ferals were in much the same condition, they had to quit the fight and find some place to rest and recuperate. On this day, they would fight no more.

Chapter 8

Under Istra's light shall the nightmare be made real.

--Matteo Dersinger, mad prophet

* * *

There had been a time in Halmsa of the Wind clan's life, not so long ago, that he would have only believed in what he could touch with his hands or see with his eyes. Those days, however, were past; now Halmsa knew that he had to put at least some stock in what his mind alone could see. It had seemed foreign at first, but now it felt as natural as the wind he so revered; most times his eyes could not see that either, and though he could touch it, he could not capture it as he could sand or water.

And so it was that he departed Dragonhold in the middle of night, his guts churning. Until that night he'd been committed to staying, to waiting for Catrin to return so she could teach him to fly. The time would come, of that he was certain, but that time was not now. Catrin was gone. She was an enigma, and his head hurt from trying to understand what he should do. His people were depending on him. So many had been lost. The weight of it pressed down on him and prevented rest. His only choice was to act. For that reason, the dream had been a welcome one. It gave him immediate purpose where none had been before.

Beyond that, though, the dream vision had provided precious little direction. For a moment, he questioned himself. How could he let dreams decide his actions? It was something he would have ridiculed others for in the past. It was the dream itself that gave him resolve. Like no other dream before, it had taken him fully. He could still feel the hot wind on his face; a heavy, musky scent filled that wind and would not be denied. So strong was the smell that Halmsa could still taste it, even in his waking state. A truly powerful vision, indeed, he thought.

After climbing to the top of the ridge that divided the Pinook and Chinawpa Valleys, he gazed out over the moon- and comet-lit landscape. It looked like a different world. Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself to the uncertainty and committed himself, once again, to doing whatever it took to reach his destiny.

* * *

Under the ever-watchful eyes of Morif and Martik, the gates to the great hall were being reconstructed, only this time they were far more substantial. Brother Vaughn observed from a distance, marveling at the way these men took the theories and learning he treasured and applied them in such magnificent scale. It made him feel inadequate. He was a learned man but not necessarily an accomplished man. He chided himself for doing the very thing he advised others not to do: be his own worst enemy. There was great value in imparting knowledge to others, and he could feel a small amount of pride, having taught both Morif and Martik something in their time together.

Miss Mariss approached, looking ready to level anyone who stood in her way, though few were so unwise. There had been disagreements over rations and arguments over whether rationing was still necessary with the enemy gone. Brother Vaughn knew where Miss Mariss stood on the issue, and he stood with her: the danger was far from averted. Catrin had been right all along, and the best thing they could do was to continue as Catrin had wanted.

Trinda stood at his side, looking bored. He patted her on the shoulder and looked to see if Martik and Morif showed any signs of being ready. This meeting was being held in the great hall at their pleasure since that was the only way they could continue to monitor the construction of the defenses while meeting with the rest.

Brother Vaughn couldn't argue that the construction was of the utmost importance, but this was a most inconvenient place to meet. His back ached from standing, and he considered sitting with his back to the giant throne the ancients had cut into the wall. It had stood empty for many ages and had been left untouched out of respect.

Mirta came to the meeting in Millie's stead. "There're wounded who require constant care," she said when she arrived.

Brother Vaughn nodded his understanding. "Stay here," he said to Trinda.

She just rolled her eyes at him and crossed her arms over her chest.

It was time to get this meeting started. He approached Martik with a cautious eye on what the workmen were doing. Work of this scale was what got careless people killed. Brother Vaughn did not want to be one of those people. Martik sensed his approach and turned, his face going from stern to a frown.

"You really couldn't have picked a worse time to do this," Martik said.

"We can manage without you," Brother Vaughn said. "We know what you are working on is of the highest priority. But we need Morif. Chase is busy overseeing work at the God's Eye, and there're issues that'll require the support of the guard. Even if we can't solve all of the problems, we need to at least manage them."

Both men looked over to where Morif stood. He was pointing and shouting at the group of workmen who were moving the new gate into place.

"Just a few more minutes," Martik said, and he firmly pushed Brother Vaughn back before he charged forward, now pointing and shouting himself. A loud creaking sound filled the hall and grew louder and higher in pitch. One man leaped from where he'd been working atop the hinge. Wood screamed in protest before it split and splintered. Martik stood with his hands on his head and said nothing for a long moment. Morif issued a steady stream of curses that let the workmen, the trees, the rope, the hold, and anyone nearby know exactly what he thought of them.

"Perhaps we should have this meeting another time," Brother Vaughn suggested meekly, knowing his interference could certainly be seen as part of what caused the catastrophe.

"I don't see why we should," Martik said, and to his credit, it seemed he didn't place blame on Brother Vaughn's shoulders. "We're going to have to send the logging crew back out, and that'll give us more than enough time to remove the damaged timbers. I suppose I'll remember the virtues of grease next time. If those timbers hadn't seized going into the hinge, we would have our new front gate in place."

Morif approached, looking ready to loose his tongue on anyone who dared speak. "The fools wouldn't listen to me," he said. "I told 'em it was gonna bind up, but they didn't stop in time, and it got away from 'em. Boiling idiots."

"It was my fault," Martik said. "I shouldn't have put them in that position. It won't happen again."

Morif just glared at him, somehow his one eye making his stare even more intimidating. "I still think they should've listened to me."

Martik wisely let it go.

"Let's go have this all-important meeting," Morif said. He walked past Brother Vaughn and, with a short nod, said, "Vaughn." That was it.

Brother Vaughn just shrugged and followed him to where the others stood. It took him a moment to find Trinda, but she stood, running her hand along the rough-hewn stone walls of Dragonhold. Hoping she would behave long enough for him to participate in this meeting, he turned to Miss Mariss, who obviously had something she needed to say. Unlike most of their meetings, a crowd had gathered around to watch this one. None of them had anything to hide, but it felt uncomfortable to have the proceedings witnessed by so many. The construction of the gates had drawn the crowd initially, but this meeting now had the potential to be far more interesting.

"I don't care what any of these fools say," Miss Mariss began, drawing a wince from Brother Vaughn. "We need to continue to ration our supplies until such a time that we have sufficient supplies to replace what we currently have."

"The demons have gone!" someone shouted from the crowd.

Miss Mariss scowled and scanned those assembled, trying to identify who had spoken, but no one took responsibility for the statement. Most likely he or she was worried, and rightly so, about never getting fed from the kitchens again.

"Dangers remain," Brother Vaughn said. "Not all the demons have gone, and we need to be ready to defend ourselves or survive a siege should it come to that. These are not pleasant eventualities we must prepare for, but prepare we must, or we put the lives of all we love at risk. How many of you would've preferred to have lived outside during the invasion?" No one responded this time, and Brother Vaughn knew he'd struck the right note. "I ask that a vote be taken in affirmation of Miss Mariss's assigned duty to ration the supplies as needed to keep the hold sustained and prepared for the worst."

Among those who'd been left in charge, the vote was unanimous. Among the gathered crowd, the results were split, and Brother Vaughn recognized the danger in that. They would soon need to find ways to get more food and supplies so the people would not feel deprived. The last thing they needed was revolution. It seemed odd to even consider the possibility since all they were trying to do was to protect the people of the Godfist, but politics were rarely so straightforward.

"The guard will do its part to make certain the provisions are protected and that rationing orders are obeyed," Morif said. "But I must express my regret that it is so. Those people would better serve us by working on our defenses and gathering more provisions. Keep that in mind when next you protest."

"What of the water?" another voice shouted from the crowd.

"That is a job for everyone in the hold," Miss Mariss retorted. "Every one of us needs to help carry water or run the pumps that Brother Vaughn and Brother Milo created. Then you need to make sure that all of the water channels around your living area are free of debris and will allow water to flow through freely. In this case, Brother Vaughn and Martik have developed a method and the tools needed to clear long sections of channel that are completely encased in rock. If you want easy access to fresh water, then this is a project that should be a priority for you."

"I'd also like to ask the guard to provide an escort for an exploration party," Brother Vaughn said.

"There are only so many of us, Vaughn."

"Yes. I understand. I'm just about certain that additional sources of food exist within this hold. At the very least, there is access to the river, which should mean fish. Could you spare one good soldier?"

"Two," Morif said.

Brother Vaughn wasn't going to argue the point.

"It's my intention to install gates at the entrance to the God's Eye, to the kitchens, and to the newly opened part of the keep. These gates will be guarded at all times, and I don't want anyone giving my people any trouble. If you do, you're going to have to stare at my face for a long time."

"The infirmary is overloaded," Mirta said when it was her turn to speak. "We need help. Millie and I can only do so much, and even those without healing skills can be of help to us. Please come and see what we are doing, and I know you'll find a way to help."

Brother Vaughn heard an annoyed sound at the mention of Millie, and he turned to see where Trinda had gone. Millie had been the strongest opponent to Trinda's being in the hold, and he suspected he knew who had made the sound. When his initial scan of the area failed to find the girl, he heard the rustle of clothing higher up, and he looked up to what should have been a vacant throne. Trinda sat on the edge, appearing impossibly small with her legs hanging over. She looked down on them as one might look down on ants, and it gave Brother Vaughn a chill. He gestured to her, indicating that she should get down, but she pretended not to see. If the others saw her, it would not go well for the girl, and Catrin was no longer here to protect her. Brother Vaughn knew his influence went only so far, and it could hardly stand up to an insult of this magnitude.

"I say we should reclaim the valley and rebuild Lowerton," another shout came from the crowd. "It won't take that much work to repair the terraces, and we can be farming again in no time." This man seemed to have no hesitation in taking credit for his statement, though Brother Vaughn didn't recognize him. He didn't know many of the farmers who had lived in the valley, so it was not surprising.

"No," Trinda said from atop the throne, and Brother Vaughn felt the blood drain from his face.

A few people looked around to see who'd spoken, but no one looked up to the throne. It was almost as if Trinda were somehow invisible, yet Brother Vaughn could see her clearly.

"I agree that we'll need to grow as much food as we can," the farmer said. "Certainly we should concentrate on ways to grow food within the hold, but in the meantime, we should take advantage of whatever is available to us."

"I said,
no!
" Trinda's voice carried over the crowd this time, and everyone looked up to where she sat.

The spell was broken, and Brother Vaughn sighed. This was not going to go well. "Come down from there," he said. "And don't interrupt the ad--"

A sharp look from Trinda reminded him that she only appeared to be a child. She was older than Catrin by a couple of years, and now the courage and resolve of those years shone in Trinda's eyes. How could he not have seen it before? How had he allowed her to come into the hold? What had he done? A very cold feeling came over him, and he waited to see what would happen next, afraid to act, afraid to make things worse. This was entirely his fault, and he could think of no excuse or justification that would absolve him of guilt. He'd felt sorry for an adult in the guise of a child, and she'd played on his sympathy with extraordinary skill.

"You come down from there this instant, you insolent little monster," Mirta said, but she, too, was cut short by a look from Trinda. There was a warning in her eyes, and Mirta, surprisingly, heeded it.