The Dawning of Power

by Brian Rathbone

  "We've a long walk ahead of us still," Gustad said during one break, his breath visible as he spoke.

  Catrin thought she saw a snowflake fall from the sky. She had no desire to be stuck in the Northern Wastes in the middle of a blizzard, and she expressed her desire to keep marching. Gustad, Benjin, and Milo all agreed that waiting could be deadly, and they pressed on as fast as they could manage. Catrin counted the number of steps she took between seeing snowflakes. At first, it was ten or twelve, but then the snow began to fall in earnest. Bearing a biting chill, the wind picked up, and soft snow turned to stinging sleet and hail, only occasionally changing back to snow.

  With darkness upon them and the storm raging, Catrin wondered if they were going to make it. Gustad and Milo suggested abandoning the bags of ash and sand, but Benjin and the others did not put them down, they just kept plodding along, not wanting to give up after having come so far. Sleet and snow clung to Catrin's face and hair, and she felt as if her head were encased in ice. She and the others were near exhaustion, and as they struggled up a steep incline, she considered just lying down and letting the snow cover her. But at the crest of the hill, she raised her head as she heard the others exclaim.

  A massive sprawl of sporadic lights stood before them. The brightest and closest were torches that burned on either side of the natural crevice that led to Ohmahold and warmth. The ancients had chosen the location well. The crevice and surrounding mountains made for excellent defenses.

  "Mighty Ohmahold has stood for over three thousand years, but there is speculation that it was inhabited long before then," Gustad said. "The natural defenses have been reinforced over the eons, but one of Ohmahold's best defenses is currently falling around us. It won't be long before the lands surrounding us will be completely impassable."

  Cold and tired, they struggled to cover the last bit of distance between them and safety. The sight of their destination gave them heart and quickened their steps despite their exhaustion. The storm worsened steadily. Snow became so thick at times that it completely blocked the torches from view, and the footing was deadly slick in places. When they finally reached the winding crevice, they gained meager shelter from the wind and ice. As soon as they entered the crevice, Gustad motioned them to rest. He walked to where a large metal sheet hung and retrieved a mallet from a hook. The metal sheet rang a discordant note as the mallet struck it, and the echoes distorted its call even further. Three times he struck it; then he waited.

  "Let me do the talking," Benjin said to Catrin and the others, and they nodded their agreement. "May I use your staff, li'l miss?"

  Catrin wasn't sure what he wanted it for, but she didn't bother to ask. Instead she just handed it to him. As they waited, less than patiently, in the cold, they concentrated on keeping warm. Soon, though, a man appeared around the corner and nodded to Gustad and Milo. He regarded Catrin and the others with mild interest, but, after he spoke with Gustad for a moment, he ran back toward the fortress.

  "It's safe now. We can enter the main gate," Gustad said, retrieving his load. He and Milo began another of their arguments, and Benjin led the others on.

  The number of manned armaments they encountered higher along the narrow defiles alarmed Catrin, but she supposed these were dangerous times. The natural defenses combined with the man-made additions were seemingly insurmountable, and Catrin could not imagine a force mighty enough to conquer such a place.

  As a small horse cart approached, Catrin and the others squeezed themselves against the crevice walls to let it pass. The cart was not moving at high speed, but the angry look on the driver's face inspired them to move, and they heard him shout as he approached Gustad and Milo.

  "What happened to Penelope? You best not have lost my mule!"

  ". . . must have wandered off," was all of Milo's response they heard before the other man launched into a tirade.

  Benjin took the lead as they rounded a corner, and another impressive sight waited. A single, massive gate, made of entire tree trunks, towered above them. A natural formation of stone jutted out on one side, and stonework fortifications secured an enormous hinge. The opposite side of the crevice was blocked by the largest man-made structure Catrin had ever seen. Huge stone blocks were stacked on top of one another to form an impenetrable wall that encased the locking structures. Standing at attention before the gates were three armed men, and the man in the center stepped forward as they approached.

  "State your business."

  "We are travelers from afar, and we seek refuge. I'd also like to renew my acquaintance with Sister Gwendolin, if she is indeed here," Benjin said, and Catrin noted how little information he revealed to the guard. She and Benjin were both surprised when the guard gave him a disapproving look.

  "Mother Gwendolin is quite busy and does not have leisure to greet wayward travelers," he said, looking down his nose.

  "A thousand apologies, sir. It has been a long time, and I was unaware of her appointment."

  "What's your name, then?"

  "Benjin Hawk."

  "I'll alert Mother Gwendolin to your presence. Perhaps she'll send some correspondence, but I wouldn't hold out my hopes. I presume you'll be lodging at the First Inn?" he asked archly, and Benjin simply nodded in response. "You must leave all weapons here. You may not enter with swords, knives, bows, arrows, maces, pole arms, spears, or any other deadly implement. We'll return your belongings when you depart Ohmahold."

  Catrin and the others created an alarmingly large pile of deadly implements in the crate he provided, and he looked at them with suspicion. He ran his hands lightly over each of them, checking for concealed weapons, but he found none. Benjin leaned on Catrin's staff and made no move to turn it over.

  "Your staff, sir."

  "You'd deprive a man of his walking stick?" Benjin asked. The guard was taken aback by the question and stood in confusion for a moment, but then he gave the command to open the gates, and Catrin wondered if Benjin's mention of Mother Gwendolin was what swayed him. He scowled at them as they passed through the gate, as if he knew Benjin's limp was contrived.

  Hoofbeats echoed from behind, and Catrin stepped aside to let the horse cart pass. The man driving looked like a storm cloud, and he slapped the leather lines on the horse's rump to get more speed. The wagon bounced and shook as the driver seemingly aimed for every bump.

  Gustad and Milo rode in the back of the wagon and were thrown several hand widths in the air with each jolt. The bags of ash and sand spewed their contents with every landing, and the two men calmly bounced along in a cloud of ash, all the while arguing over who had been responsible for watching the mule.

  As soon as Catrin and the others were inside the gates, men used horses to pull on massive ropes that attached to the gate on the other side of equally large pulleys. The horses strained against their harnesses as they strove to move the tremendous weight, and the gate slowly began to swing closed. Catrin paused to look when she heard the command to hold the gate, and she watched in disbelief as a very angry and icy mule charged through the gate, braying the entire way. Catrin smiled, assuming Penelope had found her way home.

  A small city huddled within stout walls, and beyond the walls lay the inner city and temples. Even in the distance and relative darkness, the architecture was spectacular. Wondering where the First Inn would be found, Catrin turned a questioning gaze to Benjin, who looked slightly embarrassed.

  "I'm not really sure where the First Inn is. I just couldn't give that horse's rear the satisfaction of asking directions. My apologies," he said. Catrin laughed and patted him on the back.

  Small buildings and shops crowded against one another in the limited space. The streets were little more than narrow strips of cobblestone, most not wide enough to walk three abreast. Almost all the buildings were dark and closed up tight. Finding the inn turned out to be as simple as looking for lit windows, and in truth, it was difficult to miss. Constructed entirely of whole tree trunks, it was one of the largest buildings in the o
uter city, and a rosy glow emanated from cracks around the doors and shutters. The massive size of the trunks indicated they had come from ancient, and most likely virgin, forest. Double doors, hewn from a single tree, made for an imposing entrance. A large sign hung above the doors, depicting a tree with doors in the base of the trunk, and black metal lettering read, The First Inn.

  Benjin pulled one of the doors open against the force of the wind, and a blast of warm air rushed out. After ducking inside, Catrin basked in the warmth, and the others wasted little time joining her. Tables crowded the large common room, and a cavernous fireplace took up most of one wall. Evidence of a large fire remained in the form of glowing coals.

  At a corner table, three men sat conversing in hushed tones, paying Catrin and the others little mind. A man sitting near the fire slept in his chair, his head lolled to one side and his hand still holding a mug of ale. In a darkened corner, another man sat silently, and Catrin thought his gaze a bit too direct. She noted his presence but refused to look directly at him again, and whenever she cast him a sidelong glance, he seemed to be appraising her.

  A rotund woman emerged from the kitchens and made her own appraisal of Catrin and her companions. She wrinkled her nose at their filthy appearance, making Catrin self-conscious. The woman, who was obviously the keeper of the First Inn, simply shrugged. "The baths are out back. You'll have to clean up before you can eat or lodge, agreed?"

  "Yes, baths will be most welcome. We found ourselves helping a couple of monks with some rather dirty business," Benjin replied, and the innkeeper seemed to warm to him a bit. She warmed even more when he paid her for the baths along with advance payment for a hot meal.

  "I am Miss Chambril. Welcome to the First Inn. I'll send Wonk to the bathhouse with water and towels in a moment. You can leave your bags here if you wish," she said as she walked into the kitchen. Catrin sifted through her pack in search of the soft clothes she had packed from the Trader's Wind, looking forward to being warm, dry, and in comfortable clothes. She sighed, realizing the time aboard the Wind had completely ruined her. In days gone by, she would have judged clothes by how tough or water resistant they were; now comfort was a definite consideration.

  Wanting to get clean and dry as quickly as possible, she and the others hurried to the baths. Wonk turned out to be a man in his middle years, and he seemed like a pleasant sort of fellow. He brought a stack of towels on his first trip and asked if any of them needed a robe. Catrin and the others declined the offer but appreciated it nonetheless, and they were grateful when he returned with a basin of lukewarm water. He said he would be back with more, but they descended on the washbasin with intent purpose.

  Catrin filled her cupped hands and splashed her face repeatedly. Each time, gray water seeped into the corners of her eyes, stinging and burning. When Wonk returned with another basin, Catrin stuck her entire face in the warmer water even before he had settled it on the stone bench. Using one of the towels, she dried her face and frowned when she saw how dirty the cloth came away. It seemed she might never get clean, but Wonk tirelessly brought fresh basins of water.

  Eventually, the cold drove Catrin and the others from the baths, and they sought that warm meal. Miss Chambril did not disappoint. Bowls of steaming stew emerged from the kitchen even as they seated themselves. Catrin noted that only the sleeping man remained in the common room; the rest had apparently gone to their beds. The stew smelled fantastic, and Catrin blew on a hot spoonful, waiting less than patiently for her first taste. It was worth the wait. She tasted salty beef and tomato with onion, garlic, and celery. Large pieces of carrot were a treat, and she ate the carrots from Osbourne's stew as well.

  Miss Chambril brought soft bread still warm from the oven, and they used no restraint when spreading it thick with apple butter. Catrin thought it might be the most delightful thing she had ever tasted, and she told Miss Chambril so. The innkeeper took the compliment in stride and brought them more bread and apple butter.

  "What is that aroma? It smells wonderful," Benjin asked, sniffing the air. "Is that a brisket?"

  "You've a discerning nose for such a dirty little man."

  "Could I beg a shaving or two? It'd be an honor to sample your work in progress," he said with sincerity.

  Miss Chambril visibly reappraised him. "I suppose that would be acceptable," she said. "Wonk will show the rest of you to your rooms when you've finished your meal," she continued, motioning Benjin to follow her into the kitchen. "I don't normally let strange men into my kitchen."

  "Not to fear. I try not to make a habit of being strange in the kitchens of beautiful women," Benjin replied.

  Catrin shook her head and asked Wonk to show her to her room. He led her to a small but private room. Despite being the first one in her bed, she was awake long after the others found slumber, and somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, she thought she heard the sound of birds taking flight.

  * * *

  Sitting before the dwindling fire, as the shifting glow cast wandering shadows over the faces around him, Strom tried to drive the chill from his bones, but still he shivered. "I don't know if I'll ever be warm again," he said.

  "At least we made it here," Chase said, rubbing his hands together. "We could still be out in the Wastes. I'm just glad to have a full belly and a dry place to sleep tonight."

  "I know I should be grateful we're here," Osbourne said, his eyes downcast, "but this place gives me the crawls. I feel like an outsider. You saw how that guard looked at us. I'm not sure we're welcome here."

  Benjin had been quiet for some time, seemingly content to let the others express their concerns, and he had a distant look in his eyes, as if he were reliving the past. "It'll be all right," he said. "The Cathurans are a suspicious lot, and they tend to be aloof, but rarely are they cruel. Get some sleep, and things will look brighter by the light of day."

  "I hope so," Strom said, but as he looked around, the anxiety of his companions was palpable.

  "I'm going to bed," Chase said with a wide yawn. Despite his exhaustion, Strom knew he could not sleep--not yet. Too many fears dominated his thoughts, and he stayed in front of the fire until the coals no longer provided their welcoming warmth. With little to light his way, he stumbled to his room. As he crept along the dark upper hall, he wondered at the candlelight that washed from under one of the closed doors. A chill ran down his spine as he passed the room, and he tried desperately to convince himself that his fears were unwarranted.

  Chapter 8

  A single act of kindness can change the world.

  --Byrber Dra, philanthropist

  * * *

  A jolly sort of noise brought Catrin drifting to wakefulness, but it was her nose that drew her from the comfortable bedding. She smelled bacon--bacon! The alluring aroma drew everyone from their rooms, and she soon found herself seated in the common room with her companions. A young girl served other customers, but Miss Chambril arrived at their table and served them herself.

  The innkeeper didn't ask what they wanted; she simply brought plates laden with some of everything, and Catrin could not fail to notice the large cut of brisket she served Benjin. Reveling in the tastes of bacon, sausage, and cheese, no one at their table spoke a word.

  One of the doors flew open and a tired-looking guard entered the common room. Catrin recognized him as the man who had searched them the night before. When he saw Benjin, he approached and went to one knee.

  "A thousand apologies, sir. Mother Gwendolin wishes to see you immediately. I sincerely apologize for my insolence. I was out of line." He stayed on one knee, his eyes downcast.

  Benjin laughed and patted him on the shoulder. "Come now, let us begin again. I'm Benjin Hawk."

  The man seemed shocked that Benjin would not use his advantage, and he accepted Benjin's hand with thinly veiled uncertainty. "Burrel Longarm, captain of the guard, sir," he said, seeming more sure of himself after Benjin's firm handshake.

  "Please join us and sit a moment, Captain Lon
garm. I assume your orders are to escort us to Mother Gwendolin?" Benjin asked and Captain Longarm nodded. "I cannot offend Miss Chambril by leaving these platters full, and we sure could use your help cleaning them if you'd be willing." Benjin winked and motioned for him to take a seat. Captain Longarm was hesitant for a moment but then gave in to his hunger.

  Benjin cut a large slice from his brisket and slid it onto the plate Catrin handed to Captain Longarm. Catrin spooned a bit of everything else onto his dish. He thanked them with his mouth full. Miss Chambril appeared impressed when she saw the empty plates, but then she noticed Captain Longarm.

  "I suppose I'll need to bring a larger meal next time, I didn't realize you'd be feeding the guard as well," she said as she cleared the plates. Captain Longarm looked uncomfortable and seemed to be wondering if he had offended her, but Miss Chambril just laughed and brought him a basket of sweet rolls for the guards.

  "Thank you, Miss Chambril. I'll make sure the men on duty get every one of these," he said, and she laughed, throwing another roll at him. He caught it deftly and smiled as he took a bite. "Many thanks, Miss Chambril. Many thanks," he said as he led Benjin and the others out of the First Inn. Within a few steps, he cast a sidelong glance at Benjin, who walked without limp or staff. "Your leg feeling better today?"

  "Much," Benjin replied with a sly smile.

  "I should get these to the men before they get cold," Captain Longarm said, a question in his voice.

  "Yes, I agree. That gift would be wasted if delivered cold," Benjin replied.

  Captain Longarm happily jogged toward the gates along the path that had been cleared through the knee-deep snow. He returned shortly after and led them on a different path, one that meandered toward a second set of massive gates. The gates opened as they approached, and no one questioned or searched them. The men manning the gates nodded in deference as they passed, and Catrin smiled in return. After passing through two smaller sets of gates, they reached an enormous temple. Built into the side of a mountain, the massive structure was covered with elaborate images of trees and animals meticulously carved into the rock face. So cleverly carved were some of the creatures that they seemed to move.