The Balance of Power (Godsland Series: Books Four, Five, and Six) (34 page)

"You're gonna be all right," Benjin said. "But you pretty much took it on the chin when you hit the water."

Benjin might have said more, but his voice was drowned out by the sound of his wife giving orders. As soon as Jessub, the crew, and the boats were aboard, they would set sail.

Though Jessub could speak, it took two crewmen to get him onto the rope ladder. Just as they were hauling him up, claws once again reached from the depths. Men screamed and there was a snapping sound as rope strained beyond its abilities. The demon certainly couldn't capsize the
Dragon's Wing,
but it was trying to pull the rope ladder into the water. From the sounds of the rope and wood straining, Millie thought it might succeed.

Leaning out over the rail and trying to get a good angle, the handsome man shouted for someone to help him, to grab his ankles. When no one else moved to do as he asked, Millie did. Though she lacked his physical strength, she gripped his legs and used her body as an anchor. For once, she wished she were heavier since the man's violent and sudden movements nearly sent them both over the edge. Then she saw lightning flash around his hand, which he thrust downward. The ship rocked and a thunderous boom echoed from the bluffs.

Given respite, the crew moved quickly, not knowing how long they would have. When the demon attacked again, all were on deck, and the beast had to settle for sinking one of the boats. The other was raised with long poles capped with sturdy hooks.

It seemed surreal as they moved away from the Godfist; it soon became even more unreal.

"Are you well enough?" Gwen asked the handsome young man. She was a comely lass; her still-wet hair hung in long curls that shone in the moon- and lamplight.

"Yes," he said with a respectful nod.

"Then let's get this ship out of here before more of those devils come looking for us."

The man moved to stand near the steerage, still holding something in one palm. Gwen strode to the aft, where Millie saw something strange. She'd been on the deck of this ship years ago, and she didn't remember it having massive tubes of wood mounted side by side at the stern. The wooden structures were supported by a retrofitted platform that used what looked like shims of burlap to secure the structures while still allowing a small amount of movement.

Millie went from puzzled to amazed when Gwen walked between the cylinders of wood and placed her hands on either side. A small platform gave her a place to sit, and the girl settled in as if she had spent a considerable amount of time there.

"Flightmaster Pelivor," Fasha said. "You have the helm. Set a course for the Falcon Isles."

"Yes, Captain," Pelivor said, giving Gwen a nod.

The sound of rushing air rose up behind her, and Millie turned to see lightning crawling over Gwen's hands and onto the wooden tubes. The wind rushed into those tubes, and the ship moved forward with ever-increasing speed. When Millie dared to take her eyes from Gwen, she saw Pelivor cast his closed fists out wide, and she could feel his power on the air. The
Dragon's Wing
slipped free of the waves, and Gwen could be heard laughing as the air whined a high-pitched song. The rigging vibrated and the sails were quickly lowered.

"It's going to be fine," Pelivor said to Millie, his smile calm and confident. "You can trust us to keep you safe."

Though his words had been soothing, his actions were not. The ship angled upward, and Gwen shouted with glee as the
Dragon's Wing
outraced the clouds.

"By all the gods in the heavens!" Millie cried, and she crumbled to the deck, unable to take any more in one day.

* * *

Travel had been difficult for Kevlin Weil, and he still found himself within half a day's walk of an aqueduct. Those stone leviathans, he knew, were what he really needed to escape. Keeping from starving in the meantime was proving difficult as well. In Thorakis's lands, Thorakis provided the food, and those under his command received their rations. He could claim no ration without having to explain his absence from his designated duty. Whether these people knew it or not, they were trapped. They were entirely dependent on Thorakis, and none were likely to stick their necks out for the likes of Kevlin Weil.

Fear was a powerful thing, and Thorakis wielded it well without ever openly acknowledging it. More and more, though, there were whispers and rumors. Some said Thorakis was gone from Riverhold, that he'd flown away on a dragon and attacked the Godfist with a host of black ships. Kevlin wasn't sure how much faith to put in rumors, but there were too many whispers to completely ignore. Events of historic proportion were under way, and Kevlin couldn't shake the feeling that he would get caught under the wheels of those events.

One staple that Thorakis didn't ration was ale. For some reason, every village had an overlarge supply of ale. Still, when Kevlin made his way into a busy inn, it was filled with a crowd who looked to be drinking away their cares. The innkeeper gave him a suspicious look, and Kevlin knew he was on dangerous turf.

"Two coppers for a mug."

Kevlin had realized long before how foolish he'd been to keep all his savings in gold. The coins had been easier to carry than smaller denominations, and they had somehow served his ego better than silver or copper, but spending them made everyone look at him crosswise. Kevlin didn't care; his stomach demanded sustenance, and ale would have to do. If he was lucky, the innkeeper would have something salty to serve; that always seemed to sell more drink. Sheepishly he handed her the gold coin. The woman looked back at him with the hard eyes of one who'd seen her share of cons and thieves.

She bit down on the coin, grimaced, then slammed it on the bar. "You won't get nothin' with that."

Kevlin blinked, unsure of what to say.

"You got any more gold in your pocket?"

"Uh," Kevlin said. "No. That's everything I have." Though gold in his pocket there might be, he didn't need anyone here to know that; already people were casting him sideways glances. Some of those glances were decidedly unfriendly.

"You hadn't heard about the false coins, eh?" the innkeeper asked, the look on her face softening slightly.

Kevlin just shook his head, hoping the lie wouldn't show.

"I'll tell you what. I can melt it down and sell it for the silver." She took the coin, and Kevlin would have been grateful, but her words haunted him. It had begun.

Once the people's faith in the currency failed, Thorakis would exert military force to maintain control. Already the people were dependent on Thorakis and his fishery, but it would get worse. It would get much worse. Perhaps there was still time for Kevlin to escape to the south, but he knew time was slipping away, and the longer he remained within the reach of the aqueducts, the longer he was a prisoner of Thorakis.

When the innkeeper returned, she carried a mug of ale and three pieces of smoked fish. "I don't know what you're running from or how you came 'cross that coin, but you look like an honest man. Your hands show the signs of hard work. That's good enough for me."

"Thank you," Kevlin said. "What happened to the coins?" he asked, trying to sound pitiful.

"People are saying it's Thorakis. They always said his coffers were endless, and now we see why. Things are gonna start getting real bad, real quick. No one knows exactly how he did it, but it had to be him. Who else could do such a thing?"

Kevlin didn't answer. The innkeeper just shrugged and walked to the other end of the bar, where patrons waited. They leered at him, and Kevlin kept his eyes averted. Eye contact would only provoke them, and all Kevlin wanted was to get away as quickly as he could. In four overlarge gulps, Kevlin downed his ale and was stuffing one of the salted fish in his mouth when he pushed his way through the door at a fast walk. Voices rose from within as the door slammed shut behind him, and Kevlin knew he needed to move fast. Running as hard as he could without risking a fall, he passed by people who stopped and watched him go. He could hear little over the sound of his breathing, and he didn't stop running until he entered a thin line of trees that bordered the town.

What he saw on the other side frightened him. Somehow he'd gotten turned around and had run right into the aqueduct. Looming like a massive wall, it penned him in. Kevlin was certain that was part of its intent, and it did the job well.

His gut told him that going back could be a fatal mistake. Too many people had taken an interest in him, and Kevlin was certain he didn't want to run into any of them again. That left the aqueduct. Perhaps if he just followed it south for a time, he could slip back into the countryside unnoticed. Afternoon was fading toward evening, and he didn't see anyone else around. Hoping all the workmen had retired for the evening, Kevlin left the trees and walked along the stone structure. The land alongside it had been cleared, which left an unobstructed roadway for Kevlin.

Feeling exposed, Kevlin moved quickly and covered as much ground as he could while he still had daylight. He'd be able to walk in the light of the moon and comets, but running would be unwise. Ahead he saw a section of the aqueduct that was under repair, and he ducked into the trees. No one stirred around the work site, but Kevlin could see the exposed cross section of the aqueduct. Water dripped from a temporary structure that bridged the gap, and it was clear that the stone structure had recently collapsed. Part of that, Kevlin realized, was because the structure was hollow; something he had never before realized. Cradled within the stone was a walkway, a tunnel. Cold realizations washed over Kevlin, and he knew he'd been right about needing to get away from the aqueducts. Now, though, he knew why, and he also knew that he would have to get very far away from them indeed.

Those thoughts vanished when his attention was drawn by movement in the corner of his vision. Dark shapes left the trees not far from where Kevlin had emerged. Preceding them was a pair of hounds. Kevlin's blood ran cold when he saw the hilts of swords at the men's sides. It was difficult to see any detail, but Kevlin had seen all he needed to see. He made a snap decision then, and before he could second-guess himself, he ran across the clearing between the trees and the work site. When he reached the strip of muddy stone, he leaped with all of his might to make it into the stone tunnel in a single jump. Water rained down from the temporary construction that bridged the gap in the stone above.

Kevlin's boots left tracks on the muddy stone, but the workmen had left a myriad of tracks outside. Hoping the water would cover his scent and wipe away his tracks, Kevlin crept into the darkness. Running his hand along the cold, damp stone, he moved south.

Chapter 10

Only when the will is singular can truly great things be accomplished.

--Thorakis the Builder

* * *

The shallows came into view when a new day bathed the world in a dreamlike glow. Catrin watched the sun rise and cast its fiery light onto the lopsided volcano. She'd seen it whole once, that megalithic spire; she'd seen it breathe and move. Even the memory was terrifying. They had lost good friends that day, and only the knowledge that they had gotten some of those friends back helped temper the loss. Tears slid down her cheeks when she remembered her reunion with Benjin and Fasha amid the shallows. The place had still been recovering from the eruption when she last saw it, and it was encouraging to see new growth, new saltbark trees, and new dryads.

For years, when Catrin had lain down for sleep at night, she dreamed of the dryad she'd seen in the shallows. She had longed to embrace that lonely soul who had reached out to her, but that embrace had been impossible.

Part of Catrin was glad to be in the shallows again. Even if she somehow knew that dryad had moved on from this life, Catrin felt closer to her here. As the sun climbed higher in the sky, the blue water shone, and a shelf of land could be seen rising from the depths. It was there that giant sharks lurked, and Catrin had no desire to ever encounter them again.

Kyrien soared low over the water, sending spray up behind them. Soon his shadow raced over white sands beneath shallow water. Even at their high rate of speed, Catrin could see the diversity of life this place supported. Though she saw none of the giant rays she'd seen in the past, she saw brightly colored red, yellow, and blue fish. Impossibly long snakes moved sideways across the water or hung, coiled, from the branches of saltbark trees. The trees themselves were a marvel. Catrin could never quite get over the crystals that encased the leaves, making them look magical. What was certain was that the leaves had powerful restorative properties and were a legendary cure for a long list of ailments. Knowing the results some of those close to her had seen, she vowed to gather some.

For a while, Catrin simply basked in the beauty of the place. Prios rested comfortably behind her, and her only real worry at that moment was making sure Kyrien rested. Bad weather had harried them, and she knew he was nearly spent. If she'd been honest, she would have admitted that worry of Sinjin shaded every thought, but she did her best to stuff those feelings deep down inside until she was ready to deal with them.

Rising out of mist-covered waters ahead were stone pillars the size of greatoaks. Within the ring, Catrin knew there was a place of great power, a place where the land's energy was somehow closer and more accessible. Kyrien cut a wide turn to bring them within the ring of pillars, all of which stood in turbulent water that frothed and foamed around them, forming whirlpools and areas where the water seemed to bulge upward. A steady wind cut through the grove of water and stone, much like the Grove of the Elders, yet very different.

The power of the place coursed through her, and Catrin knew Kyrien, too, could feel it. Perhaps that was why he'd chosen this place, or perhaps it was the constant, steady wind. With his eyes closed, Kyrien hovered in place, letting the rush of air cradle them and keep them aloft. At first Catrin worried a gust of wind might ram them into the pillars, but compensating for changes in the wind appeared to be something dragons could do in their sleep, and again she was awed by the majesty of her companion.

Prios and Kyrien slept, but the pain in Catrin's head prevented her from doing the same. Knowing she was surrounded by saltbark, Catrin decided it would be best to leave them sleeping and gather some leaves. After unstrapping herself, Catrin climbed onto Kyrien's shoulders, the wind buffeting her as she worked to keep her balance. She turned and stepped out onto the bony wing structures, hoping she wouldn't hurt Kyrien, but the wing barely moved, and she was able to walk along his bones. The thought of walking out on his wing membrane made her worry about hurting him since it looked more fragile, but she somehow knew that Kyrien found this amusing.

Near where the tip of his wing hovered, the water was shallow, though still turbulent. It was a short drop, and Catrin was soon wading toward a cluster of trees. She had wondered why Kyrien wouldn't just land, but she remembered when she looked closer that the trees were the only things above water in most of the shallows. He would've had to land on the trees themselves. Catrin was thankful he had not. This was a place deserving of respect and reverence.

The water was cold but not frigid, and the trees were not far away. When Catrin stepped out of the shadow of the pillar, she caught movement from the corner of her eye and froze. Remaining still for some time, Catrin was confident that, whatever it had been, it wasn't hostile. The first tree she came to was bursting with deep green leaves whose crystals cast rainbows around them. It was almost difficult to look upon; its leaves seemed as if they were always moving. Perhaps that was why Catrin didn't see the snake.

Brighter green than the leaves and coiled around the inner branches, the snake's head managed to sufficiently blend with its surroundings. When Catrin did see it, she recognized the wide and full head of a viper. Knowing that even moving away too quickly could cause the snake to strike, she remained frozen.

"Do not be afraid of Ellesin, heart of the land," came a high, rich voice, and Catrin could now sense the presence behind her. It appeared friendly but Catrin did not like being caught unawares. Given who she was, it could be fatal. "Ellesin is protective of the tree, yes. But a respectful hand he will not bite. And you are respectful of us. I remember you."

Catrin's breath caught in her throat, and she slowly pulled her hand away from the snake. It wasn't that she didn't believe the snake saw her as friendly; it was simply impossible for her to overcome the fear of venomous fangs sinking into her flesh. When she turned, her eyes were greeted by one of the most beautiful faces she'd ever seen. Green eyes danced with life, and vinelike hair sparkled within a coating of crystals; leaves covered most of the dryad's body, somehow making her look more appealing than the finest silk would have.

"Greetings, tree mother," Catrin said. "Were you the one I saw all those years ago?"

"No," the dryad said, a hint of sadness in her voice. "That was my cousin, but she passed down the memory of you to me--you and the man and woman who stayed here. The trees miss them, though the fish do not." She laughed at this, and her laugh was like a healing salve. It loosened Catrin's stiff muscles, relaxing her. "It is all right," the dryad said. "You're safe here and your companions are safe where they are. I've asked the land to hold you."

Catrin wasn't certain what she meant, but she did feel a great deal more calm. Tension and fear eased, and into that space rushed grief and frustration. She wanted Sinjin back. She had failed him, and she worried she would do so again. Tears again filled her eyes, and she resisted the urge to wipe them away, resisted the urge to tell herself she was weak. She needed to feel this pain. She needed to grieve for the loss of her son to the enemy so she could dedicate herself fully to getting him back.

"You have pain," the dryad said. "Let me give you a gift." Reaching out her hand, the dryad placed it under a glistening leaf. After a soft rustling sound, the leaf fell from the branch and landed soundlessly in her palm. She handed it to Catrin as if it were the greatest treasure, which Catrin knew it to be. When the dryad placed the leaf in Catrin's hand, she said, "Put this on your tongue, and let the crystals dissolve. Then chew and swallow."

Catrin was about to ask the dryad's name, but when she withdrew her hands, the dryad made contact with Catrin's hands. For an instant, Catrin saw richly painted images in her mind; memories that were not hers flowed between her and the dryad. They remained connected for some time. The experiences of entire lives entered Catrin, though she knew not how much she would retain. So much of it was like smoke in a strong wind, there one moment and gone with the next breath. When finally the flood of information stopped, the dryad broke contact, tears streaming down her face. "You've been given a gift by a dryad before."

While it was a statement, it came out sounding more like a question. "Yes," Catrin said.

"It is so wonderful to have news from our cousins. The birds bring us bits and pieces, but they are forgetful. What you have brought us is truly a treasure!"

"I'm so glad," Catrin said, amazed to learn that she'd been carrying all that around with her for so long. She'd never noticed it or been aware of it, yet she suddenly felt as if a burden had been lifted from her, a debt paid. When she placed the leaf on her tongue, she did so with joy in her heart. The taste was difficult to describe, but the crystals seemed a mixture of salty and sweet. The meat of the leaf was tangy with a spicy bite. The instant she ate it, Catrin began to feel better. The pain in her head was mostly gone within moments, and it continued to fade. "I don't know your name."

"I am Vellatarina. You may call me Vell."

"Thank you, Vell. I'm Catrin."

Vell nodded as if she already knew this. "There are many who rely on you and expect things from you, and I do not wish to increase your burden, but I've something I must ask of you."

"Ask."

"There is something I want you to take with you. It's small but it's very important."

"What do you want me to do with it?" Catrin asked.

"You'll know when the time comes," Vell said, and she turned aside as if she needed privacy. Catrin heard soft words spoken and a catch in Vell's voice. When the dryad turned back, it was clear that she had been crying again, and in her cupped hands she held a single perfectly formed seed. It was white and tan, and each color was layered on top of the other over and over again until the seed was covered in concentric, wavy stripes that were always the exact same distance apart.

"Take this. Please. Carry it with you, and when you become inspired, please . . . think of me."

Vell's voice cracked again, and Catrin could only imagine what it would feel like to entrust your seed to another. In some ways it mirrored her own worries about how Sinjin was being treated, but Catrin knew this was something more. This was important on a completely different level, even if she couldn't quite see how or why yet. It bothered her a bit that there had been things in her head that she'd been unaware of, but that was overshadowed by the joy it clearly brought to Vell and her cousins.

When Catrin parted from Vell, she left with saltbark leaves for Prios and Kyrien. They, too, needed restoration and healing. When she reached Kyrien's wingtip, he dipped it low until it almost touched the water. Climbing back up, Catrin hoped he'd not been awake and waiting for her all this time.

I'm already feeling much better. You should rest now.

To Catrin's surprise, he accepted the five saltbark leaves she had brought for him. That left two for Prios and another for herself. Vell had been most generous with her gifts. The seed, Catrin had tucked away in her pocket, though she knew she needed a better way to store it. She knew how important it was to Vell, and she would never forgive herself if something happened to it.

Prios accepted the leaves, and Catrin placed the last one on her tongue, relishing the taste. Putting his hands on her shoulders, Prios began kneading her muscles. Despite the relief the saltbark provided, he found places where she was stiff and sore, and through some magic, he convinced her muscles to relax. Within moments, Catrin slept. Her dreams were filled with vibrating light and a warm hum that soothed her, as if it were shaking the pain loose from her body and the shadow loose from her soul.

When her eyes opened again, she saw something beyond her wildest imaginings. Near the base of each stone pillar sat a beautiful dryad, each sparkling in the light of a new morning. Between them danced intricate patterns of light that made Catrin's and Prios's power look like a child's stick drawing compared to the work of a master artist. Even given use of her saddle, staff, and Koe, Catrin doubted she'd ever be able to create such delicate and complex structures.

Even more astounding was the rotation of the water within the pillars. The dryads were feeding energy to Kyrien, Catrin, and Prios, and it seemed they did so in a circular pattern, which pulled the water along with it. So strong was the rotation that a huge spout formed, exposing the seabed below to the air. Kyrien could easily have landed in that space, but Catrin had a vision of the water suddenly crashing back in on them, and she was glad that he kept them airborne.

There was something else that tugged at Catrin's senses. Mixed in with the hum of power and the wind was a subtle and beautiful melody. The dryads were singing, Catrin realized, the old songs that Shirlafawna had spoken of so long ago. Had Catrin truly had them in her head for all these years? It seemed too strange to be true, yet the dryads practically glowed.

Prios pulled her back and kissed her cheek and Catrin smiled. Slowly the dryads decreased the level of energy, their singing grew quiet, and the waters inexorably reclaimed the seafloor, though not as quickly as Catrin would've imagined. The vibrating and buzzing feeling remained, but the dryads slowly slipped back to the trees and disappeared.

Only Vell remained sitting on the base of the column near Kyrien's wingtip. "We've given what we are able to give. Be well. I can offer no more gifts or healing, but I'll impart this one last thing to you: You must not leave here yet. Stay one more night."