The Dawning of Power

by Brian Rathbone

  As he followed Madra back into her home, Chase wondered what he'd gotten himself into.

  * * *

  When the sun rose, casting a glow across the water, neither shore was visible; only the location of the sun guided them. The winds had taken a southerly turn and grown fierce; their boat cut the waves under full sail, riding the growing swells. With no point of reference, it looked to Catrin as if they were moving slowly, but occasional flotsam appeared in the water and was soon lost in the distance.

  "We must get closer to shore before the sea claims us," Benjin shouted to Samda, and they set a westerly course.

  By midday, the western coast came into view. The land was mostly forested, and only occasional farmsteads and mills gave any indication of inhabitation. But as the day wore on, the smell of smoke grew heavy on the air, and the setting sun backlit columns of smoke, red and orange, making it appear as if the sky were on fire.

  "Perhaps we should move back into deeper water," Benjin said as they neared the coast. The columns of smoke were now close, and acrid clouds rolled over the water. As they passed an isolated farmstead, a band of mounted men appeared, raiding and setting the buildings afire.

  "Bandits and thugs," Morif said. "The Zjhon weakened all the lands, and now that they've been routed, anarchy reigns." Samda flushed and kept his eyes downcast. "I mean you no insult, Samda. You've been good to us, but the Zjhon have set the Greatland on a path to destruction." Millie stood, tight-lipped, and cast scathing glances at Morif, but he seemed not to notice as he watched the raiders move on. "There's little food to be had, and too many young folk are dead, with the Zjhon armies, or on the Godfist. If order is not restored, there'll be nothing left to raid by spring."

  Catrin watched the razing of the farmstead in horror, seeing visions of her own home destroyed, but she stifled her tears. "Turn back east," she said. "I don't want to land near here." Benjin nodded at her statement.

  "The southern waters are far too dangerous," Samda said. "Storms and massive waves strike without warning. It'd be wiser to skirt the western coast and look for a safer place to land," Samda said.

  Catrin got a cold feeling in her stomach when she looked at the burning farmstead, and she decided to trust her instincts. "No," she said. "We will risk the crossing."

  Chapter 2

  Oversight begets disaster.

  --Omar Zichter, architect

  * * *

  An unnatural mist obscured the landscape, green and yellow like a plague, but Catrin recognized her homeland nonetheless. How she had come to be back on the Godfist was lost to her. A part of her seemed to know that she dreamed, but that knowing was overshadowed by fear and foreboding.

  Harborton appeared deserted. Not a soul could be found, no birds sang in the trees beyond, and even the leaves were still. As she neared the family farm, though, dark shapes milled about, distorted by the foul mist.

  In the barnyard she found her father, Benjin, Uncle Jensen, and even Chase, though she wondered how he had found his way home. Everyone she cared about from her homeland was there, yet no one spoke or even seemed to notice her. Their faces were contorted into masks of fear and rage lit by a feral glow. As one, they moved toward the pasture from which the glow originated, and there, Catrin saw what drew them. The face of Istra stared up from the depths of a gaping wound in the land, and the glow became brighter with every step she took.

  She tried to warn them, to tell them to run away, but her voice made no sound, no matter how loudly she tried to scream. Frustration set her soul ablaze as she fought to alert them of the danger, but they would not see--could not hear. Moving inexorably closer, they walked to their deaths, and Catrin was helpless, unable to stop them. Clawing her throat, trying to find her voice, she moved through the cloying mist. With an effort born of love and terror, her scream finally split the air, and every face turned toward her, but before she could warn them, the haze wrapped them in its fetid embrace.

  In a flash of ill light, they were gone.

  * * *

  Gentle hands shook Catrin awake. Her eyes burned, and she wiped the sweat from her brow, her mouth tasting of blood.

  "It's all right, li'l miss," Benjin said. "I'm here. It was just a dream."

  Even in the bright morning light, she could not shake the visions from her mind, and she trembled as she stood. Sucking in a deep breath, she let the damp and salty air drive away the horrors of her dreams. Shading her eyes with her hand, she could see the eastern coast beneath the rising sun.

  Prevailing winds continued to drive them, and she estimated they would reach land before noon. Samda brought her a mug of water laced with herbs. "This will help clear your mind," he said.

  "Thank you," Catrin said, but she spilled the drink when she spotted a dark and menacing ship approaching. "There's a ship behind us."

  "Looks like a mercenary ship," Benjin said, "and I doubt they're friendly. I don't think we can outrun them, even at full sail, but let's raise all we have. Maybe we can make it to shallow water before they catch us." He and Samda moved with purpose to get as much speed as they could. Catrin and the others secured themselves as speed drove the boat into the waves.

  After tossing everything that was not precious or essential, the mercenary ship still gained on them, and Catrin knew it would overtake them well before they made land. Benjin and the others seemed to come to the same conclusion and prepared themselves to fight.

  Catrin tried to decide what to do. She hadn't used her powers since the destruction of the statue, and she was terrified that they would no longer work or, worse yet, that they would unintentionally hurt those she loved. As her breathing became rapid, she tried to exert control over herself, and she drew deep, steady breaths. It was much like the first time she climbed back onto a horse after having been thrown. Tentatively, she reached for Istra's power. Like breathing, the act of opening herself to the energy felt natural, only, in this case, it felt as if she had spent most of her life holding her breath. The power came reluctantly at first, but then it surged, coming to her in a rush and nearly sweeping her away.

  Something within her had changed. It was as if the power she'd felt before had been flowing through a pinhole, and now the dam had burst. With deliberate effort, she pulled herself away from the energy flow. It tempted her with its sweet caress, but she knew she could not give in to its lure or she would be lost. The sudden deprivation of power after such a heady flow made her dizzy, and she swayed where she sat.

  As the mercenary ship drew closer, her crew gathered at the bow and hurled insults and jeers across the water. They promised death in a myriad of fashions, and though Catrin knew it was a tactic, she had difficulty avoiding its effects. Her mind invented visions of her death, and she began to sweat. Benjin and the others remained silent, conserving their energy, knowing they would need every reserve to survive.

  "They're going to catch us, but they don't want to sink us. They want to rob us. All we have to do is keep them off of us long enough to get to the shallows," Benjin finally said into the silence. "Have no mercy, and don't hesitate. If they drop their guard, take full advantage."

  Catrin trembled as the ship drew closer, almost within bow range. The shoreline was so close, she could almost feel the sand beneath her toes, but the water looked plenty deep almost all the way to the white beach, an underwater cliff dropping off into oblivion not far from shore.

  Knowing she had to act, Catrin stood on trembling knees and braced herself against the mast. Her staff in hand, she tried to figure out what to do next.

  "What are you doing?" Benjin asked. "Get back down. You'll make a good target up there."

  "I have to stop them."

  "But you aren't fully healed yet. It may not be safe . . ." He trailed off.

  "I have to try," Catrin said as she closed her eyes and concentrated. In the past she had used her power to trigger much larger sources of potential energy, but now there was no storm to draw upon, no lightning to call. She would have to rely on Istr
a's energy alone to assault the ship.

  Slowly she opened herself to the source, allowing only a trickle of energy to escape through the mental barrier she maintained between herself and the unmoderated flow of power. A plan began to form in her mind, and though the energy pounded on her barrier, she remained in control.

  The air itself carried and conducted energy. As she expanded her senses beyond the bounds of her physical form, she found that she could see, smell, and taste the air around her. Heavy with moisture and teeming with static charge, it became like clay molded by ethereal hands. Pulling the air closer, Catrin gathered it in her cupped palms and packed a continuous flow into a sphere of energy. The air came to her easily, but putting it in the sphere and containing the pressure became increasingly difficult. Drawing more heavily on the energy flow, she reached into her staff and let its comforting energy bolster her.

  When she opened her eyes, a translucent ball floated above her palm, its surface always shifting and changing. Raising her palm to her lips, she blew, and the ball of air floated toward the encroaching ship. The farther away it got, the more difficult it was to control and maintain. It was not quite over the bow of the other ship when she had to release it.

  A sound like a thunderclap cleaved the air accompanied by a blast of icy wind. At first the mercenaries were stunned, but then arguments broke out. Catrin's attack had been mostly ineffective, but it had convinced some of the mercenaries that this prey was too dangerous to pursue. While they argued, though, the ship moved ever closer.

  "Are you all right, li'l miss?"

  "I'm fine," she said, putting more of her weight on the mast and trying to steady her quivering knees. "If they do not heed my warning, I'll attack."

  Benjin shifted in his seat and looked torn, but he said nothing. The shadow of the mercenary ship was about to close over them, and Catrin drew a deep breath. Just as she began to open herself to the power, men appeared on the mercenary ship with bows. As one, five men drew and aimed at Catrin. In an instant, she drew deeply and let the power flow around her, still drawing more. Her body began to sway from side to side, her arms moving with the rhythm of the power. Arcs of energy trailed behind her staff as it moved, and her hair stood on end. The bowmen did not release, and their arms began to shake from the strain. Slowly, one by one, they lowered their bows.

  A shrill cry echoed across the water, and two bodies were thrown over the side of the mercenary ship. Just as the ship moved close enough for the men above to make the jump, it veered away. Catrin released the flow and slumped to the belly of the boat. Though she hated to see anyone die, she had difficulty feeling compassion for the dead captain, and she hoped those who committed the mutiny would remember this day and change their ways.

  Just as she began to relax, Millie drew a sharp intake of breath and Benjin cursed. Across the sands came two riders at a full gallop.

  "We need to get back to deep water and find another place to land," Benjin said as an army wound its way down a nearby ridge. As the men worked, Catrin watched the riders approach. Wind caught the sails, and the boat began moving away. One of the riders stood in the stirrups and waved his arms, yelling. At first Catrin could not hear what he said, but then the wind shifted and his words drifted to her: "Catrin, wait!"

  Benjin heard Chase's call as well, and he smiled broadly as he brought the boat about. Chase reined in his horse, jumped off, and waded to meet them. He looked different--older. The beginnings of a beard darkened his visage, and Catrin wasn't certain she liked it.

  "You look awful," he said as the boat reached shore.

  Catrin lowered herself to the sand. "Thanks. You're looking rough yourself. Have you considered shaving?"

  "I like it and I'm keeping it."

  Catrin laughed and her burdens felt lighter knowing Chase was safe. They walked from the water with their arms around each other. Benjin and Samda rigged the sails on the boat, and they pushed it back out to sea. "I don't want to leave any evidence that we landed here," Benjin said. "Greetings, Chase. You've done well. I look forward to hearing your tale."

  "It can't be as good as yours," Chase said with a wink.

  A woman with graying hair and eyes like ice stood nearby, holding the two horses. Lines around her eyes gave her a hawkish appearance. Despite all her power, Catrin could get no sense of what the woman was thinking or feeling; she was like a stone.

  "Catrin, Benjin, this is Madra. She's the leader of the army you see," Chase said.

  "This is the mighty Herald of Istra?" Madra asked. "From the tales I've heard, I expected someone as tall as a bear with eyes of fire."

  "Tales are often exaggerated," Catrin responded.

  Madra smiled then laughed. "I suppose they are."

  Catrin introduced Samda, and she did her best to make him sound like a friend, but Madra and Chase both eyed him with anger and distrust.

  Chase pulled Catrin aside while Benjin made the rest of the introductions. "What really happened?"

  "To make it all very brief," she said, "I met a druid, who led us through the forests, but the forests caught fire, and then there was a flood. And then I caught a farmer's horse, and he gave us his cross-eyed ox. We sold the ox, and then Millie recognized me and took me to Ravenhold, where I met my grandmother. I can't even tell you the next part. You won't understand."

  "Tell me."

  "Do you promise not to hate me?"

  "Tell me."

  "I know who killed our mothers, and I agreed to marry one of their family."

  "What?" he said, but their conversation was drawing attention.

  "We should discuss this in a more secure location," Madra said. "Let's move inland and make camp."

  "Take the other horse, Cat," Chase said. "You look like you could use a rest."

  Despite her pride, Catrin did not have the energy to decline. She did, however, turn away his offer to give her a boost. She was not that weak.

  Lines of soldiers snaked across the sand, and as they drew closer, Catrin saw that they were mostly old men, women, and children--only those the Zjhon armies had left behind. Madra rode ahead to find a suitable place to make camp, and Catrin let Chase lead her horse at a walk while she filled him in on the rest of the details.

  "We nearly passed each other," Chase said. "If not for that thunderclap, I would never have known to look for you here. We were heading north, to Adderhold. After the statue exploded, I thought you might not be able to get to me, so I came looking for you."

  "I'm grateful fate allowed you to find me. Tell me about Madra and her army. How did you come to travel with them?"

  "Fasha brought me to Madra."

  "You met Fasha?"

  "Yes," Chase said. "She is among the most spirited and brightest people I've ever met. I hope to sail with her again someday. Brother Vaughn took me to the Vestrana in Endland, and they took me to Fasha. We sailed the Stealthy Shark to Faulk, but I knew something was wrong when the statue in the Westland exploded, and that's when Fasha took me to Madra. At that time, I don't think even Madra would have guessed that she would be leading an army, but after the statue exploded, the people had had enough. It was Madra who organized them and began the march to Adderhold. I joined them and came in search of you. There were fewer of us in the beginning, but everywhere we go, people join us. In every town it's the same: people are afraid when we arrive, but once we tell them what we are doing, they support us and many join our ranks. But now I don't know what to do. This is not our war, but I'm not sure I can abandon them."

  "What does Madra want?" Catrin asked.

  "Peace," Chase replied. "The problem is that none of us know how exactly to achieve it."

  Catrin understood the problem, having faced the same dilemma herself, but she was no wiser than anyone else. "I wish I knew."

  "There is something else I have to tell you. Fasha brought word from the Godfist. I'm sorry, Cat, but someone tried to kill your dad. He was still alive when Fasha left the Godfist, but no one could say if he would su
rvive. Uncle Wendel is strong, though, and I know he still lives. I thought you should know."

  Catrin rode in silence, terrified by the thought of someone trying to kill her father and frustrated by not knowing if he still lived. Chase told her more of what happened after she left the Godfist, but she could barely listen. It was just too painful to hear how wrong her plan for peace had gone. She had hoped to unite the people of the Greatland and the Godfist, but her actions had only divided them further.

  Beyond a series of steep dunes, the grasslands rolled toward a distant mountain range. Madra and another rider had already staked their horses, and they were pitching tents as Catrin and the others joined with the rest of the army. Walking beside these people, she could hardly consider them an army, and she wondered what good they hoped to accomplish. It was the same question she asked of herself, a question for which she had no answer.

  When they arrived at the campsite, Catrin dismounted and began to unsaddle the horse. A woman approached with a currycomb and a bucket of water. "I can care for him, m'lady."

  "I'm Catrin. What's your name?"

  "Grelda, m'lady."

  "You don't need to call me 'm'lady.' I'd enjoy caring for him if it's not an imposition."

  "I'll hold 'im for you, m'lady. He likes to kick."

  Catrin shook her head and started brushing the gelding's roan coat. Watching his every move, Catrin was ready when he kicked, and she deftly stepped aside. When his coat was brushed, she let him drink. Watching his ears move on each swallow, she pulled the bucket away before he drank too much. The routine gave her peace as it took her back to a simpler time in her life. "Thank you," she said as Grelda led the gelding to the pickets, where only two other horses were tied.