"I'm gettin' old."
"I've been meaning to ask you something," Catrin said. "How did you manage to swim and hold on to your staff at the same time?" She remembered her own terrifying plunge into the sea.
Nat's back stiffened and his face grew stony. "I had to choose," he said. "I had to choose between my life and my father's last wishes. I knew I couldn't swim with the staff in my hands, at least not very well. But to drop the staff would have been to betray my father. I would not allow the consequences, not again--I couldn't." The venom that poured from him, as if she had lanced a festering wound, surprised Catrin. "They said I was crazy to hold on to the staff, that only a madman would try and swim with an iron-shod stick," he said with an angry, hurt look toward the crew.
"I see," Catrin said, looking him in the eye.
It was Nat's turn to feel foolish; he seemed to realize the crew could not have known how that would hurt him. He shook his head. "I must have seemed crazy to them, risking my life to save a piece of wood and metal. There was no way they could have understood. I would have died without their help."
He sighed. He looked down at the deck, breaking eye contact with Catrin. "It pains me to trouble you more, but I must. You left before I could tell you the rest. I cannot go with you to the Greatland," he blurted.
Catrin sat back so quickly that she smacked her head on the deckhouse. Unable to formulate a response, she just stared at him in shock.
"It's not that I don't want to go. Please understand. I know I swore to protect you, and I will for as long as I can. But I cannot go to the Greatland. It was forbidden to me. I have known this time would come and have dreaded it, but now it has arrived and I shall do my duty to my father," he said.
Catrin was not sure how much more she could take.
"On his deathbed, he made me swear I would never again set foot on the Greatland. He said that if I did, something far more dreadful than Julet's death would occur, and I cannot allow that to happen."
He looked directly at Catrin. "It seems I've taken too many vows, and now I must choose, for I cannot obey them all. Will you, Catrin Volker, Herald of Istra and my dear friend, please release me from my vow?" he asked, kneeling and placing his forehead on the deck before her.
"I cannot," she said forcefully, and his head jerked up from the deck. He could not contain his utter dismay, and his face went slack. He looked into Catrin's face and was confused when she smiled back. "You can keep both vows. There is no need to choose. I am flexible, you see. You don't need to come with me to protect me and my interests; I'll need someone to look after things on the Godfist."
Nat smiled when he realized she had cleverly solved his dilemma, allowing him to keep his word and his pride. Catrin, though, had an icy feeling in her stomach. She would go to the Greatland with only Vertook to guide her, and she was not yet certain how Vertook felt about the journey. She might have to face the Zjhon alone.
"Your passage from the Falcon Isles has been paid, and I have gold for you. Members of the Vestrana should be available to help you on your quest once you reach the Greatland."
"Thank you," Catrin said, nodding, but things had changed between them. Knowing he would not accompany her, their relationship felt thin and strained. Nat sat for a while in uncomfortable silence then excused himself. It was a strange parting, and Catrin was saddened by the tension. She tried to wish Nat well, but she kept seeing herself alone in a strange land where everyone wanted her dead.
A sudden wind threatened to blow away the canvas and line. Catrin quickly gathered them up and ran to her cabin. When she stepped inside, she heard muffled shouts from the deck and the sound of men running. Throwing the line and canvas aside, she rushed back to the deck. Several crewmen ran by her on their way to the stern. When Catrin arrived, most of the crew was already gathered there, trying to get a good view.
She could see nothing at first, but Bryn saw her dilemma and hoisted her onto his shoulders. Finally able to see above the other men, Catrin saw the Stealthy Shark on the horizon, listing badly and riding too low in the water.
"They're gonna sink her."
"It's a trick."
Kenward watched in tortured silence. Unable to stand still, he paced back and forth. The Shark listed sharply, driven by the growing wind. Part of her rigging struck the water and snapped off, and it became clear this was no ruse; the Stealthy Shark was foundering and beginning to sink.
"Turn this ship around!" Kenward shouted. "Set a course for the Shark. I'll not let her sink this day."
The crew sprung into action, arming themselves as they prepared the ship to come about. They all seemed to know that Kenward was doing this for his sister. He might not be able to save her, but he could save her ship. The Eel turned slowly, and Catrin urged it forward, as if her desire might somehow propel the ship. The Stealthy Shark had fallen far behind and looked as if it might sink before they arrived.
As the Stealthy Shark gradually grew larger on the horizon, her crew became visible. One man waved his arms frantically, and the others struggled to move about the deck, clinging to the rails. The ship was out of control, and the men seemed barely able to hang on. Catrin's knees buckled when they grew close enough to see the men's faces. It was Strom who waved.
"Strom!" she screamed, and everyone aboard the Slippery Eel looked at her. "Those are my friends. Help them!" All this time they had been right behind her, and now they were in mortal danger.
Kenward could not pull his ship alongside the Shark for fear of colliding with it. The seas were choppy, and unpredictable winds gusted at gale force, so they had to lower the small boats into the water. Men scrambled down, and Catrin saw Kenward begin his descent. Without another thought, she leaped over the railing and shimmied down one of the ropes. The boat below was overfull, and the waves tossed it as Catrin wedged herself between two men.
As they approached the sinking ship, men threw ropes onto the deck. Catrin spotted Benjin and called to him as he grabbed one of the ropes. He tied it to a pair of sturdy bollards on the deck and stopped just long enough to smile and wave to her. Within moments, they were all aboard the Shark, the crew scrambling to assess and repair the damage. Vertook climbed on deck, went straight to the bilge pump, and began to crank it.
"Kenward!" Benjin shouted. "Do you have any pyre-orchid?"
"Not in many years," Kenward replied.
"Dreadroot! Have you any dreadroot?"
"Bring back dreadroot on the next trip," Kenward yelled to a sailor.
"Now! The need is urgent," Benjin insisted, and Kenward ordered the man to hurry.
Catrin had never heard of pyre-orchid, but Benjin's request for dreadroot terrified her. The only use for dreadroot she knew of was to treat severe infections, and it was only used in cases where the infection was out of control and likely to cause death. Dreadroot could wipe out rampant infections, but it was so powerful, it also killed many of the people treated with it.
"The hole in the hull is far too large to be repaired with oakum alone, sir. We'll need to patch it and then seal it," a crewman reported.
"Get the shelves from the cabins and use those to patch it," Kenward ordered. "We'll need more oakum from the Eel."
Benjin appeared stricken as he realized the materials needed to repair the ship had been onboard all along. "Boil me, I wish I'd thought of that. I had hoped the oakum would hold long enough to catch you, but it blew out with no warning, and I knew we were in trouble. Thanks for coming back for us."
Trying to account for all of her Guardians, Catrin searched the ship. She had seen Strom already, but in the chaos, she could no longer locate him. Osbourne appeared for a moment but was then lost in a flurry of sailors. Men struggled to repair damage at the helm; Benjin and Kenward rushed to their aid before Catrin could ask who needed the dreadroot. Praying it wasn't Chase, she decided to have a look in the cabins and moved toward the deckhouse.
Checking each cabin, she found them all empty, and when she reached the last door, she wonder
ed where else to look, but the smell told her she had found him. Covering her nose and mouth, she entered the cabin and sobbed when she saw Chase, pale and shivering, an open wound on his right shoulder. Angry flesh, mottled red and purple, surrounded the wound, and Catrin could feel the heat radiating from it without touching him.
He did not stir, even when she blotted the sweat from his forehead. His breathing was shallow and labored, and Catrin feared he was already lost, too far into sickness to ever recover. She cursed fate for its cruelty. All this time the herbs Chase needed had been just out of reach. If only she had known her friends were aboard the Stealthy Shark, then Chase would be safe.
The rough and unpredictable motions of the ship caused the hammock to sway wildly at times. Chase's body was dead weight, and Catrin winced as it soundly struck the cabin wall.
Benjin charged into the cabin, carrying a small vial and a flask of water. The dreadroot Kenward had provided was not in its usual powder form; instead it was concentrated oil. Benjin used extreme care in applying a single drop to Chase's tongue, knowing a larger dose would almost certainly kill him.
Chase did not react at first, but then his face wrinkled and he looked as if he wanted to spit. He shook his head back and forth wildly, trying to swallow. Benjin poured water over his lips, but Chase swallowed very little and sprayed most of it across the cabin as he coughed. After a moment, though, he drifted off, settling back into unconsciousness. His breaths were short, and Catrin encouraged him on each one, fearing it would be his last.
She was distracted when she noticed Benjin having trouble closing the vial with one hand, his left arm hanging limply at his side. Catrin moved to him and reached for his shirt, but he pulled away.
"I'm fine," he said. "Right now I need to help Kenward and the others attend to the ship. Stay here with Chase, please. Shout if his condition worsens." He rushed from the small cabin, not waiting for a response.
Holding Chase's hand, Catrin watched his chest rise and fall. Physical contact gave her the distinct impression of heat and corruption, and she could sense his life forces slipping away.
Uncertain of what to do but unwilling to do nothing, she placed one hand on his forehead and the other on his chest. After synchronizing her breathing with his, she began to concentrate on his getting well. Love and friendship poured through the physical bond, and her hands grew warm. A tingling sensation thrummed in her palms.
Energy swirled from her hands and into Chase, and she focused on the foulness raging within him. The infection gave her the impression of immense hunger and single-minded reproduction. It would consume him. She could not tell if the dreadroot was having any effect, for the infection seemed to remain strong, overcoming his body's weakened defenses.
Soon, though, his breathing became more regular, and Catrin decided to try something different. Holding both hands over his wound, she concentrated on the inflamed flesh. It repulsed her, but she refused to pull away. Energy poured into the diseased flesh.
A small trail of blood seeped from the wound, and Catrin grew alarmed, but the blood seemed to cleanse the area, carrying away foul contaminants. She sensed Chase's body beginning to fight the infection forcefully.
Kenward entered with a cloth and a basin of diluted wine. "Can you hold him in place while I do this?"
"I can do it," Catrin replied.
Kenward nodded and began to cleanse the area around the wound first. Chase moaned and thrashed, but Catrin held him fast. Kenward wiped the wound directly then applied pressure around it, forcing the foulness out. Chase shouted incoherently, but Catrin held him, speaking soothing words in his ear, her tears mixing with his sweat.
"That's all I can do for now," Kenward said after bandaging the wound. "Get him to drink water if you can," he added as he left.
Catrin helped Chase drink whenever he woke, and several times, she woke him just to give him more water. The ship's motion became more stable, and the listing subsided. In the hours before dawn, she leaned her head against the cabin wall for a moment of rest, and her eyes closed. She was asleep before she drew another breath.
Chapter 3
On the cusp of life and death stands a veil of gossamer, and those who behold it are forever changed.
--Merchill Valon, soldier
* * *
A terrified cry woke Catrin in the dawn hours, and she fell out of the chair she had been sleeping in. Pulling herself from the floor, she checked on Chase and drew a sharp breath. His body was covered in an angry rash. Every part of him was discolored and inflamed.
"I'm gonna die, Cat. I don't wanna die," he said through swollen lips as Kenward and Benjin arrived. Holding his breath, he endured while they inspected his wound, checked his temperature and pulse, and listened to his chest.
"I think you are going to make it," Kenward said with a smile. "The rash is not life threatening. It's one of the least deadly effects of dreadroot."
"Dreadroot? You gave me dreadroot? Are you mad? Were you trying to kill me?" Chase asked, incredulous. He tried to sit up quickly but immediately fell back to the hammock.
"You were near death, Chase. We had no choice," Catrin whispered, and he nodded slowly, asking with gestures for water. Once his thirst was quenched, he asked for food; the return of his appetite boded well for his recovery.
"Some great sorceress you are, Cat. We were behind you all that time, and you couldn't tell us from the enemy. What use are you anyway?" he said with a tired and forced smirk, which made her certain he would recover.
"Perhaps you should've thought of that before leaping on someone's sword," she said. He laughed a bit too hard and winced from the pain. "You relax." She kissed him on the forehead. "I'll get you something to eat."
"Are you having any trouble breathing?" she heard Benjin ask as she slipped out of the crowded cabin. She left the door open to freshen the air.
Approaching Farsy, one of the crewmen she recognized, she asked if they could get broth for Chase. Farsy winked and pulled a polished piece of metal from his pocket. He then began sending signals to the Slippery Eel. It took a moment before anyone responded, but when they did, the ensuing conversation of flashes was surprisingly short.
"The signal language is quite intricate," he said. "We can convey many things quickly, as long as both people are well trained. The skill has saved many lives."
Catrin watched as two men from the Slippery Eel scrambled into a boat and rowed toward the Stealthy Shark. When they arrived, Farsy threw down a line, and the men below secured a heavy basket. Once it was on deck, Farsy opened it and revealed a surprisingly large amount of food.
"You didn't think he was the only one hungry, did you?" he asked, seeing her look of surprise. "No sense making a trip for a mug of broth, I'd say. Besides, I knew Grubb would take care of us--he feeds us, and we keep him afloat. It's a fair bargain for all."
Catrin's stomach agreed with Farsy, and she thanked him. He nodded his reply, his mouth full of salted fish. Grabbing the covered mug of broth and some food for herself, she walked carefully back to Chase's cabin. The air in the cramped quarters was less foul when she returned, and a crewman had mopped the floor before throwing down some dried reeds.
Chase slept, but the rich aroma of the broth soon brought him from his stupor. He accepted it with shaking hands and sipped it, savoring the flavor. He thanked Catrin and she nodded, her mouth full of hard bread. Feeling much better after eating, she was thankful Farsy had thought to get enough for everyone.
Chase emptied the mug and handed it back to Catrin with mumbled thanks. He was asleep as soon as the hammock cradled his head. With Chase cared for and her fears for him diminishing, Catrin sought out Benjin. He stood near the helm with Kenward and Nat, and they seemed to be discussing plans for the rest of the voyage, but they fell silent when Catrin approached.
"Chase is doing better. He's had some broth and is sleeping again," she said, and the tension lessened slightly. She stood for a moment, watching Benjin, her emotions spanning the
gamut. She could not decide if she was more glad, hurt, angry, or scared. The overwhelming circumstances made it difficult for her to maintain her focus, and when Benjin met her eyes, the words that left her lips surprised everyone.
"Why didn't you tell me you were in love with my mother?" she blurted, regretting the words as soon as she spoke them.
Benjin was dumbstruck, and Nat looked as if she had physically assaulted him. A dreadful silence hung in the air, broken when Benjin spun fluidly. His face contorted in rage, he struck Nat as quick as a snake. Catrin barely saw him swing, but a sharp crack echoed across the water, quickly followed by the thud of Nat's body against the deck.
Roaring in anger, Benjin spun away from Nat, and another crack resounded. Benjin's head snapped back, and Catrin stood, fists clenched, trying to decide if she needed to hit him again. Blood welled on his lip. The sight of it was too much for her, and she retreated to Chase's cabin. No one on deck uttered a word as she fled, and tension continued to hang heavy in the air.
Chase was awake when Catrin returned, and her distress must have been obvious.
"What's going on out there?" he asked without waiting for her to sit. She let out a sigh and shook her head. It took her a moment to compose herself before she could speak. Her voice wavered as she told the tale, and he listened in relative silence, though he let out a low whistle when she told him about her father and Benjin fighting over her mother. As she finished, she felt as if she had just poured her soul onto the cabin floor and left herself completely vulnerable.
"Things will be fine," Chase said optimistically, and his cheer in the face of his condition shamed Catrin; she had crumbled under the weight of much smaller problems. The things Nat said had brought her pain, but they also brought her a greater understanding of her circumstances. She realized her question must have been a shock to Benjin, and probably brought him enormous pain. Again, she regretted her insensitive words.
The Dawning of Power Page 27