The Balance of Power (Godsland Series: Books Four, Five, and Six) (33 page)

"I will not come down," Trinda said.

"If you don't come down from there, I'm going to come up there after you," Morif said, and there was no humor in his tone. He and Mirta were Millie's closest companions, and her hatred of this girl seemed to have influenced them as well.

"I said,
no!
" Trinda commanded, and she slammed her closed fist down on the stone. Radiating from the impact was an ice blue wave of energy and air that sent Morif and the others backward a step. "Your ruler has left you behind. And now you have a new ruler. If you wish to remain within Dragonhold, you'll swear fealty to me. Now. Those who do not swear fealty will be
asked
to leave."

"You don't think a little cold air is going to keep me from paddling your bottom, do you?" Morif asked as he stepped forward once again. A deadly silence hung in the air, and Morif took another step forward. Brother Vaughn prayed Morif would stand against her and end this madness.

"You may leave," Trinda said to Morif. "You and the fat woman."

This brought a flush to Morif's face, and Brother Vaughn had never seen the man so angry. In two steps, Morif would reach the base of the throne, but he managed only a single step; in the middle of the second, he was thrust backward. He could not even remain upright. Still moving backward and sliding on his rear end, Morif slammed into the unmoving gate. The workmen stopped, and everyone moved away from where Morif was now pinned to the gate.

"You there," Trinda said to Mirta. "You are forgiven because you were influenced by the fat woman. You may stay. Go back to the infirmary and send the fat woman to me. Do you understand?"

Mirta nodded and ran from the assembly, tears streaming down her face.

Moments later Millie's voice could be heard across the distance, echoing within the hall. "The little chit did what?"

Brother Vaughn tried to catch his breath and hoped Millie would cool her temper before she reached them.

It was not to be. The woman was in a red-faced rage when she approached the throne. "Well. Your
highness,
how might I be of service to your royal self?"

"You may leave," Trinda said.

"I most certainly will not."

"You will
leave.
" Again Trinda slammed down her fist, and another cold blast shook the great hall. It sent Millie falling backward, and she looked up at Trinda with undisguised hatred. "I don't like you," was all Trinda said before she sent Millie sliding across the mosaic floor to rest next to Morif, who still looked as if he were paralyzed.

"You," Trinda said, pointing to Brother Vaughn, "may stay. But you will never scold me again. Is that understood?"

He nodded.

"The gate to the great hall shall be secured and then reinforced again," Trinda said.

"It'll never open," Martik said under his breath, but his voice carried through the silence.

"I do not wish the gate to open," Trinda said. Only silence greeted that statement. "If there are any who would not swear fealty to me, move to the gate. You will not be harmed, and you will be allowed to leave before the gate is sealed. You will, however, never be allowed to return."

Brother Vaughn looked around, waiting to see who would join Millie and Morif, but no one did, and so it was that control of Dragonhold passed to Trinda Hollis, the daughter of a baker. Brother Vaughn was surprised to see Trinda reiterate most of the orders that had already been given, and only a few things changed with regard to how the hold was being run. Food would still be rationed, the water channels would be cleared, and the guard remained intact, although missing its leader. Morif had been in charge of the guard since its formation, and Chase now quietly maintained control, though everyone wondered how long it would be before Trinda realized Catrin's cousin was leading her guard. He supposed the biggest change, though, outside of Millie and Morif being exiled, was that the hold had been closed to the rest of the world. By Trinda's orders, the keep would have to function in an entirely self-sufficient manner. This was something Catrin had never been able to achieve, and it saddened Brother Vaughn that tyranny was required to accomplish the goal.

When Trinda spoke again, her forceful words made it clear to Brother Vaughn that a great many things were about to change. "Who among you will swear fealty to me and guard me with your life, step forward."

No one moved or spoke. Brother Vaughn was imagining what would happen if no one stepped forward when Bradley left the crowd and stood before Trinda. He went to one knee and bowed his head.

"What is your name?"

"Bradley, your highness."

"You are the chief of my guard. Assemble five of your best men before me."

Bradley hesitated only a moment before he called out five names. Two young men stepped forward immediately. There was a delay before two more came. Bradley scanned the crowd, looking to see if Feddy, the last he had called, was among those gathered. When the young man finally stepped forward, there was hesitation in his stride, but Bradley gave him a reassuring nod.

"I've a special task for you," Trinda said, "a task of the utmost importance. I want you to bring me every one of these that was ever made." In her hand, she held a herald globe that glowed more brightly than one fully charged in sunlight. Most would not have noticed this or understood the significance, but Brother Vaughn knew very well just how dangerous herald globes could be in the wrong hands. It definitely seemed that Trinda's hands were now the wrong hands. One herald globe in her possession was enough to worry Brother Vaughn; every herald globe in existence would give her an arsenal the likes of which the Godsland had never seen, or at least had not seen in thousands of years. When Bradley turned to his men, he caught Brother Vaughn's eye and gave an almost imperceptible nod.

"I need a messenger," Trinda said next. Brother Vaughn noted that this girl wasted little time. "Who will serve?"

A young man Brother Vaughn didn't know was shoved forward by the woman behind him, presumably the boy's mother.

"I don't need one so unsure. Are you certain you wish to serve as my messenger?"

The boy drew himself up and raised his eyes. "Yes, lady. I'm certain."

"Good," Trinda said. "Go to the Masterhouse. Tell Master Edling--and only Master Edling--that I now hold Dragonhold. Tell him to come here, with my father, at their earliest convenience. Tell them I look forward to giving them a tour of my new keep. Now repeat the words to me."

The young man repeated the words and stammered only twice, but he managed to get the words in the right order.

"Go," was all Trinda said.

* * *

Catrin knew the Falcon Isles when she saw them, and she urged Kyrien to land west of town, closer to the wilderness. She could sense his anxiety, and she shared it, but they needed rest, and the isles were the only land nearby. The ferals and the black navy had gone east, but that didn't mean they wouldn't come back. They may even have left a force behind to act as a rear guard; the thought further eroded Catrin's confidence.

When traveling between the Greatland and the Godfist, the Falcon Isles were the only significant landmass. It would make sense for their arrival to be expected.

Turning to Prios, Catrin smiled. A sad smile came to his face as well and he nodded. They would stop here to rest. Kyrien came in fast, and he overshot the beach where Catrin had asked him to land. This alone was enough to let her know that he needed rest and healing. She hadn't intended to search out the Gunata or Nat Dersinger, but she saw people in a clearing as they turned, and it was clear that they'd been seen. That would be all the signal Nat needed. Though she considered him a friend, he'd always managed to complicate her life. The thoughts were muddy and indistinct--a sign of her own fatigue. After they landed, her body still tingled from flight, and her legs were unsteady beneath her when she stood in the saddle.

For a moment, Catrin considered remaining strapped in and just sleeping in the saddle, but Prios squirmed behind her, freeing himself from the straps. It took Catrin a few moments longer to unstrap herself and climb down, and she walked with a stiff gait to where Kyrien's head rested.

"You're a valiant soul," she said.

I'm a traitor and a failure. No matter what I do, I can never make up for what I've done. I still have hope for you, but for me, time is punishment.

Catrin felt his pain deeply, and she wished there were some way to prove it all untrue. It was odd that he had hope for her and she, hope for him. Yet neither could scrape up much hope for themselves. Perhaps that was why they were together, to provide hope for each other. Prios somehow maintained a positive outlook. The pain of his childhood had prepared him well for hardship, and he seemed to deal better with that than when things were going well for him. For Catrin, he was strength and stability. Prios was always there for her and for Sinjin. He'd always been a good husband and a good father. But no one else knew him as Catrin did. No one else saw the warrior who'd fought for his freedom, who had fought with everything he had for Catrin ever since.

Catrin knew his power and fortitude, and she was grateful. Before she knew it, she'd fallen asleep, leaning on Kyrien.

* * *

A pale red hue painted the cloudless sky, and the shadows were deep when Catrin awakened. It took some time for her to realize where she was and to recognize her surroundings. When she cleared the fog from her mind, she realized they were not alone. Prios slept nearby and Kyrien was in a stupor. They were about as unprepared as they could be.

"Hello, Catrin," Nat Dersinger said. "I hope I didn't wake you. My people stand guard over you. If you need more rest, then sleep. We will be here when you wake."

Catrin should have taken his advice. Instead, she stood, walked to Nat, and gave him a hug that he did not fully return.

"It's good to see you," she said, and he did not reply. His eyes were scanning Kyrien and the beach around him.

"Where is the staff?" he asked, and there was a dangerous note in his voice.

Guilt washed over Catrin. Nat's family had cared for that staff for generations. "Lost," she said. "Stolen. Thorakis has taken it."

Nat's face grew red with rage, and his hands balled into fists. "How could you let this happen? You know the power of that staff. How could you let it fall into the hands of someone like Thorakis?"

Catrin took a step back from his unexpected anger.

"I've seen, Catrin. I've seen what happens if you have the staff . . .  and what happens if you lose it. And you've lost it. May the gods have mercy on your foolhardy soul, for I will not. You, Catrin Volker, are hereby banished from the Falcon Isles. You'll find no respite here unless you return with the staff. Do not make me force you from here. Do the honorable thing and go."

Stunned, Catrin took another step back. Prios stirred on the shoreline, and Kyrien's great lidded eyes drew open just a little.

"Come," Catrin said through her tears. "We're no longer welcome here."

Chapter 9

Dragons are as easy to understand as the wind.

--Brother Vaughn, Cathuran monk

* * *

Millie walked in a daze, with Morif guiding her around obstacles and looking out for any other dangers. Even he was driven to speechlessness by the turn of events. Millie had said all along that Trinda was trouble, but even she would never have guessed just how much trouble. Catrin would not have allowed them to be cast out of Dragonhold, to be sent without so much as a biscuit and knife into country still harboring demons. Millie had disliked the girl before, but now it was personal. Now she would spend the rest of her days searching for a way to repay the kindness. She also worried about all of those who had stayed. Though it stung a bit that no one had chosen to stand with her and Morif, it was probably for the best. Morif didn't need more people to look after.

He took them north, through the Pinook Valley, heading toward where Upperton had stood. Neither knew the fate of the town, but optimism was scarce. When the first ruined structures came into view, it was clear that the obliteration of Upperton was complete. Shadows moved in the distance ahead, and Morif pulled Millie behind a fallen building. Slowly they moved from shadow to shadow. Millie could feel the presence of something else, and her blood went cold. Morif was a seasoned warrior, but he was no match for demons. Those unnatural creatures were aberrations, a twisted mockery of nature's true intention. An involuntary whimper escaped her lips.

Pulling her to speeds that she could not maintain, Morif tried to get Millie clear of the destroyed town. At every turn there were movement and shadows, and it felt as if the darkness were gathering to smother them. Daylight was fading fast, and Millie shivered at the thought of sleeping out here in the dark. Ahead, a section of roofing from a building leaned against the valley wall and formed what appeared to be a stable, dry, and defensible space. A triangular opening stood dark and foreboding.

Millie wanted nothing to do with going into that space, but she would follow Morif with her mouth closed if that was what he told her to do. For as much grief as she gave him when they weren't in danger, she knew just how close death was now, and her trust in him was complete. It brought a flush to her cheeks that blended with her already reddened and sweaty skin. It shamed her that she could not keep up, and she swore that she would make changes in her life. It actually seemed that Trinda had made that decision for her, and she didn't like that feeling one bit.

Morif moved in closer to the lean-to, and Millie's blood ran cold. She knew it was only her fear that had her convinced monsters waited in the darkness, but still that fear kept her frozen in place. Morif turned and waved for her to follow. Then the blood drained from his face. In the next instant, his powerful hands grabbed Millie by the shoulders and propelled her into the darkness.

With her hands thrust out before her, it was all she could do to keep from crying out. Some instinct stilled her tongue. Luckily for them, the space sheltered by the roof was otherwise empty, and just enough light crept in to allow Millie to find her way to a place where she could stand and remain hidden.

Morif held a finger to his lips and moved to the opposite opening. Unable to remain where she was, Millie followed him and peered out, trying to see what it was that had Morif afraid. Her knees trembled at the thought of demons and giants coming to eat them, and she cursed herself for a coward, though she knew it wasn't true. Anyone who felt no fear in the face of those horrors must already be dead, Millie thought, still unable to see anything. Then she heard something that gave her a start: weeping accompanied by hushed yet harsh conversation. Light danced across the valley floor, painting the destruction in swaying shadows.

Finally Millie saw a group of dark shapes with torches. Her breath froze in her throat as Morif tensed. When the group drew closer, wary of the darkness where Millie and Morif hid, she knew they would be found. Then a familiar voice called out, "Who's in there?"

Relief flooded through Millie and just as suddenly rushed away. From nearby came a deep growl that sounded like rolling drums. That was the only warning the approaching group had before the demons attacked. Rushing out from behind another nearby structure, they entered the fray in a state of frenzy, and to their credit, the group recovered from the surprise almost instantly. Battle was joined. A small form was thrust into the middle of the scuffle, and Millie sucked in a breath. Morif squeezed her arm and emphatically motioned for her to stay in the darkness, and before she could object, he was gone. "For Catrin!" came his shouted war cry.

Millie couldn't hide in the shadows and wait; she had to know what was happening. Otherwise, every sound and every cry created visions in her mind of Morif's death or Benjin's--she knew he was who had spoken--or Gwen, or any of the others who had sailed on the
Dragon's Wing
so long ago. When blue fire and lightning lit the entire valley in its pulsating light, Millie could see Kenward Trell and beside him a man she didn't recognize. She was certain she would remember meeting such a fine specimen of a man and the feel of his power in the air, streaming from his fingertips; it was intoxicating.

The sound of battle was otherwise terrifying, but it was the howls in the distance that raised Millie's flesh. These demons were calling out to their brethren, and the responses were drawing ever closer. Soon, she knew, this part of the valley would be overrun with demons. Why hadn't these gone with the rest? Millie asked herself in frustration. In the end, she knew the why didn't matter. What did matter was figuring out how to get all of them to safety.

The tempo of the battle slowed, and the demons drew back, seemingly content to keep them trapped until reinforcements arrived, which would be soon by Millie's reckoning.

"We need to get back to your ship," Morif shouted to Benjin and Kenward. "They'll not welcome you at Dragonhold."

No one questioned him, though there was an even cooler feel to the air. This was not a joyous homecoming, and Millie felt for them. For her, this had been real for some time, but for Benjin, the destruction of much of his homeland was fresh and new. In some ways it was new to Millie as well, and the scope of the devastation was difficult to grasp.

"We're going to knock a hole in their line," Morif said, and he waved for Millie to come out and join them. "We'll head north, back toward the cliffs. When we do, get yourselves through. We'll fall in and defend you from behind. It sounds like most of them are coming from the south. You should be all right. You understand?"

The demons knew they were planning something, and they lunged and feinted to disrupt their communication as much as possible. During one such feint, one of the demons moved between Millie and Morif. The seasoned warrior let out a howl, and the men attacked.

Gwen and Millie were shoved through a breach in the enemy line, and the charge was on. Millie wasn't really prepared for that, and she could not keep pace with Gwen, who was issuing a steady stream of curses. It seemed she felt she was old enough to fight, and to be herded off with Millie had injured her pride.

The battle was close behind Millie, and she had to push herself for speed. Her heart pounded, and her breathing was ragged, but she pressed on, hoping she wouldn't drop from the exertion. Again, she swore to get in better shape, and again, she resented Trinda. The little traitor had set all of them up and played them like lutes. Then, as soon as the opportunity presented itself, she stole Dragonhold from under them and tossed out those who would oppose her.

When Millie put her ego aside, she realized that many of those who had stayed had probably done so to get an opportunity to depose her or to just wait for Catrin's return. Still, she couldn't understand Trinda's motives. It seemed foolish to make an enemy of the most powerful person in the world. But those thoughts would have to wait for another time.

When the lifts came into view, Millie nearly tripped and fell. Only a splintered heap remained. They were trapped, unable to get down to the water from the high cliff. Fear nearly overwhelmed her again. That was when she saw it; sad and pitiful in comparison to what the lifts had been, this was little more than knotted rope forming a basket of sorts.

"Get in," Benjin ordered.

Both Millie and Gwen hesitated, but Benjin cast them a commanding glare and pointed.

"I don't even know why he let me come," Gwen said as she helped Millie into the net.

Millie's steps were hesitant, and she nearly fled, except her fear of the demons far exceeded her fear of heights. Far below, she could see dim lights reflected on the water, and she knew there were people waiting on the ship below. She wondered if it was only one ship, but that was when Benjin and a young man Millie recognized as Jessub Tillerman pulled hard on the rope that was looped over a part of the old lifts.

The net cinched up around Millie and Gwen and pressed them together. Millie felt extremely self-conscious, but Gwen made no complaint. In the next instant, they were pushed out over the cliff's edge, where they descended far more quickly than seemed safe. She couldn't blame those up above, knowing the demons would be pressing them hard. Even at that speed, the fall seemed to take forever, giving Millie too much time to think about what it was going to be like when they struck the water. Nothing could have prepared her for the impact or the cold embrace of the sea. When she regained her senses, Millie was coughing and sputtering. Gwen had an arm around her neck and pulled her free of the net, which was now racing back up to where the others would meet their fates.

Only fear of drowning kept Millie from feeling guilty; she knew it was very unlikely that all those above would escape with their lives. Gwen was a strong swimmer, and she pulled Millie to a boat launched by the nearby ship. Millie wasn't certain if she would see the
Slippery Eel
or the
Dragon's Wing
since both ships' captains were above, but her vision was so blurred at that moment, she had no idea who was in the boat with her, let alone what ships waited in the darkness.

When the boat reached the side of a ship, Millie did her best to climb the rope ladder, but Gwen had to push her from behind. Moments later, Millie lay, breathing hard, on the deck of the
Dragon's Wing.
The ship was unmistakable. Having been carved from the trunk of a greatoak, the ship was seamless. When Millie levered herself up to lean on the rail, Fasha was there to lend her support, and Grubb brought out broth. Bryn arrived shortly after with warm blankets.

"If you'll just come with me," Bryn said, "we can get you something dry to wear."

"Not yet," Millie said. "I have to know--" Her voice caught in her throat, and she could say no more.

"What are they facing up there?" Fasha asked, concern clear on her features.

"Monsters," Gwen said, her lip quivering from the cold.

"Demons," Millie agreed.

The blood drained from many faces. Again the net crashed into the water with what looked like a bone-crushing impact. The boats were there quickly, and everyone watched in tense anticipation as limp forms were pulled from the water. Millie held her breath until she saw Morif sit up in the boat. Benjin also managed to get himself upright.

The net started back up fast, but then it dropped to the water. Millie willed the net to rise again, and when it did, she gasped. The motion of the net was jerky, and it stopped at times, but steadily it moved back upward. From atop the cliffs, blue lit up the mountainsides. Muted thunder made it clear the fighting was nowhere near over. The body of a demon hurtled over the cliffs and crashed to the waves below. It did not surface.

A moment later, the net descended again, this time with Jessub Tillerman inside. That left the handsome young man all alone up there. The net descended quickly at first, but then it cut loose completely and dropped like a stone. Millie gripped the rail and held her breath again, making her feel faint. The boats moved in to rescue the young man, who was clearly in grave danger. Before they reached him, though, a pair of reptilian claws latched on to one side of the first boat. With inhuman strength, the demon pulled down sharply, causing the boat to flip. Two men managed to right the boat and climb back aboard. The third screamed just before disappearing beneath the waves.

Jessub didn't regain consciousness after being pulled in by the second boat, but both boats made their way back to the
Dragon's Wing
as quickly as the rough seas would allow.

"He's breathing," Millie heard someone say, and she started to do so again herself. She wasn't certain how much more of this day her heart could take.

Thunder from above continued for a time then stopped abruptly. A luminous form, rimmed with fire, leaped into the air and swooped down toward the ship. He did not fall or scream, despite the rapid rate of his descent. He traveled in a graceful arc toward the ship. Then he turned one hand as if to cup the wind, and he slowed, his cloak billowing behind him. His other hand clenched tightly around something that appeared afire. The wind pressed his supple clothing against his body, and Millie found herself staring. When he landed deftly at the prow, she realized her mouth was hanging open, and it shut with a pop.

"What happened?" she heard Jessub ask. The young man's voice trembled with uncertainty.