The Dawning of Power

by Brian Rathbone

  "Madra kept four sound horses hidden from the Zjhon," Chase said. "One went lame on the way here. We don't have enough to do much good except for scouting and occasionally carrying those who need rest. The army moves at a terribly slow pace. Only when Madra has gotten us passage on barges have we made any real progress."

  Considering her new circumstances, Catrin began to weigh every option in her mind, but there was no clear choice.

  Her thoughts were interrupted, though, when Madra approached. "Now would be a good time to tell us your tale," she said and sat, cross-legged, across from where Catrin stood.

  Others gathered, and soon Catrin faced much of the army, who sat silently, waiting for her to speak. Her staff in hand, she spread her arms and opened herself up to a mere trickle of energy to amplify her voice, but the power seemed to have ideas of its own. Inadvertently, she took a step backward, nearly overwhelmed by the rush of raw energy that threatened to wash her away. With a deep breath, she prepared to tell her tale, but before she even spoke, someone in the crowd gasped, and Catrin opened her eyes.

  No one moved or spoke up, and Catrin opened herself to the power once again; this time ready for the onslaught. "I am Catrin Volker, daughter of a horse farmer, and the one declared the Herald of Istra," she said, and she recounted her journey, leaving out no details. Gone was the time for secrecy.

  For the first time, no one questioned her tale, and no one scoffed at her claims. These people had seen enough already. They believed. It was not from the silence she learned this, but from powerful waves of anxiety that could not be concealed. "I have no desire for conquest. I want only peace, but there are grave dangers facing our world, and I must do what I can to prevent more people from dying. There are more statues to be found, and Archmaster Belegra's search for weapons of power threatens us all. I do not ask you to join my quest or forward my cause. I ask only that you strive for order and peace, even if you must fight to achieve it. I cannot tell you yet what I will do next, as I've not yet had time to consider all that has changed. I ask you to consider my words and allow me some time."

  "You have given us a great deal to consider, and we, too, will need time to evaluate this new information. Until we gather again, please consider yourselves honored guests," Madra said.

  Catrin released the stream of power reluctantly, despite her struggle to control it, and it left her yearning for more. Taking a deep breath, she steadied herself, letting the cool evening air caress her. It lulled her and soon she yawned. "I need to rest."

  "We don't have any extra tents, but you can sleep in mine," Chase said.

  "Thank you, but I think I'd like to sleep under the sky tonight."

  "If that's what makes you happy, but if it starts raining, don't come in my tent all wet."

  Staring up at the sky from her bedroll, Catrin reveled in the light of the moon, stars, and comets, her fatigue suddenly abated. She counted four comets in the sky, and their energy rejuvenated her.

  Within moments, though, the stillness of the night sky was disturbed as what looked like tiny comets streaked across the sky before disappearing. Several people who were looking at the show gasped and exclaimed. Chase came from his tent when he heard the commotion.

  "What is it, Cat?"

  "I'm not sure. Look to the sky," she said. "It seems harmless, and it's actually quite beautiful."

  Chase watched with her for some time as the firestorm raged, but then he stood and stretched. "I should be sleeping," he said as he left for his tent.

  Catrin watched longer than she should have, but she was mesmerized and knew she might never witness such an event again. Eventually, she made herself close her eyes. In the quiet of her mind, she heard the faint melody of life, and it lulled her to sleep.

  * * *

  Madra watched the skies with a mixture of fascination and dread. The world she had known was gone, and in its place was a world where nothing was certain, where entire nations feared a girl who looked as if she might be afraid of her own shadow. Though Madra sensed strength in Catrin, she doubted it would be enough. She, too, had been a gentle flower in her youth, full of hope and optimism, but the world had hardened her. It had taken her optimism and tempered it with cold fear and bitter futility. At times, she thought she might shatter from the stress of it.

  Looking across the grass to where Catrin lay, Madra drew a deep breath and did her best to find some shred of hope. For Catrin's sake and her own, she tilted her head back and gazed to the skies. With all her might, she sent her prayers to the gods, hoping that maybe this time they would hear.

  Chapter 3

  Our eyes are most critical of those who are reflections of ourselves.

  --Elinda Wumrick, mother of three

  * * *

  Distorted echoes of string instruments and cymbals filled the halls of Ravenhold. There was no tune or melody, as if those who played could not hear the notes. Banquet tables were laden with rotting food. Faceless men and women danced without rhythm, as if some unseen force drove them.

  Catrin stood at the center of it all in her wedding dress. But when she looked down, it was soiled and torn. Her grandmother beckoned from the head table, but Catrin could not break free from those who danced. Her every step was blocked, and it seemed she was getting farther away. Lissa, looking as Catrin imagined her: like herself but with eyes of ice and fire, stood at her grandmother's side, her slender hand extended to point at Catrin, a silent accusation.

  Hands grabbed Catrin's waist and propelled her around the floor, twirling her until she was dizzy. Her legs could no longer hold her, and she fell and fell and fell. When at last she struck cold stone, she looked up to see Carrod Winsiker staring down at her, his lips curled into a sneer. He laughed and the room spun. Every face she saw was twisted in contempt, mocking her. Lissa threw a piece of moldy bread at her, and her grandmother laughed.

  Shame and grief overwhelmed Catrin, and she begged for mercy, but they surrounded her, accusing her of abandoning them. Her grandmother came to the fore and opened her mouth to speak, but no sound emerged. Instead, a crimson rose bloomed on her chest, and she dropped to the floor, an arrow protruding from her back. On the balcony stood Catrin's betrothed, engulfed in a nimbus of power. He reached out with fingers of flame and raked the soft flesh of her throat. Crying out in pain, she looked down to see blood soaking her already fouled dress.

  When she raised her head again, robed figures threw ropes of fire into the crowd, and those who danced burst into flame, but still they danced. Wicked laughter pounded in her ears, and as a haze of blood clouded her vision, they were gone.

  * * *

  "No!" Catrin shouted, grappling with hands that restrained her. She lashed out, desperate with fear.

  Benjin frowned down at her. "It was a bad dream. Wake up, li'l miss. You're safe."

  Slowly, reality supplanted the image of her dream, and she relaxed. "I'm sorry."

  "You've nothing to be ashamed of," he said. "Fate has been unkind to you, and you've not even had time to grieve. Allow yourself to do that, and then, perhaps, the dreams will not be as bad."

  "Thank you." People milled about, and several cast Catrin questioning glances.

  Madra approached. Everyone in the camp showed deference to her, yet she had a kind word, a pat on the shoulder, or an embrace for each of them. The harsh persona dissolved in those moments, and Catrin saw the real Madra.

  "Our dreams bring messages," she said when she reached Catrin. "But they are rarely understood. Give them credence, but do not rely on them for council."

  "Thank you, Madra."

  "When you've eaten, please join me," Madra said as she walked back to her tent.

  Chase brought a half loaf of bread, some smoked fish, and a flask of water. "What do we do from here?" he asked.

  Catrin had known this time would come, but she was still not ready to answer. Haunted by her dreams, she tried to find reason, tried to find a course that would not lead to disaster. In a moment of clarity, she firm
ed her resolve and made a choice. "We go to Ohmahold," she said, but she turned her head when Millie made an annoyed sound in her throat. "On the way, we'll stop at Ravenhold, but we'll only remain there a short time." Millie looked smug but seemed satisfied.

  "And after Ohmahold? What then?" Chase asked.

  "I'll not remain long in Ohmahold either. I'll fulfill my commitments, and then I'll find a way to get to the Firstland. Belegra poses a serious threat, and I cannot allow him to enslave anyone else. I would go in search of the other statues, but I've no idea how to find them. At least with Belegra I know where he has most likely gone, even if I don't know how to get there."

  "Wherever we go," Chase said, with a pointed look at Catrin, "we are going to need a ship. Fasha was headed for New Moon Bay. Madra knows ways to contact her, as does Brother Vaughn. I guess we just need to find a map."

  Catrin simply nodded her acknowledgment.

  "I think Belegra may have a map, but I doubt you'll find another," Samda said. "I believe it was among his most closely guarded treasures."

  "We'll find a way," Chase said with a firm nod. "Let's go. Madra awaits."

  On their way to Madra's tent, Catrin saw fear in the eyes of many she passed. Making the mistake of looking one woman in the eye, Catrin felt a wave of terror pour out. Some may seek out the ability to inspire fear in others, but Catrin detested it. It made her feel like a monster.

  Madra, at least, showed no signs of fear when they approached. She sat next to the remains of a small fire and motioned for Catrin to sit. Chase and Benjin seemed unsure if they were welcome, but Madra smiled. "Please, all of you, sit with me and let's discuss what lies ahead."

  "Thank you, Madra."

  "We set out to confront the Zjhon armies and reclaim what is rightfully ours. You're welcome to join us, if you choose. What you've already done has aided us. We're indebted to you for that, but we'll not kneel to you."

  "I don't want anyone to kneel to me," Catrin said. "I seek no power or authority. I only want peace. And while I support your goals, I, too, have things I must achieve. I must return to Ravenhold and Ohmahold to fulfill my commitments, but if our paths remain the same for some time, I would welcome a place in your camp."

  "Fair enough."

  * * *

  Driven by a strong wind, the Stealthy Shark knifed through the waves, sending sea spray high into the air. Feeling the cool mist on her cheeks was one of the things Fasha loved most about the sea, and most times, it brought a smile to her face, but on this day, it brought only fear and sadness. Watching Chase as he had waded from the surf, departing her world and entering the world of the land-bound, something inside of her had changed. She could not define what had changed, but nothing in her life had been the same since. Not even the rush of dodging patrol ships brought her any real joy. It was as if all the things that had been important to her suddenly lost their meaning.

  Chase's desperate--almost primal--need to save his cousin had affected Fasha more than she had originally realized. Though she knew she belonged at sea, she found herself wanting to meddle in the affairs of the land-bound, something her mother often cautioned against, saying it was a certain path to trouble. Still the thoughts lingered, and Fasha continued to question herself. When sails appeared on the horizon, she had no choice but to concentrate on survival. Her conscience would have to wait.

  * * *

  Weeks of traveling with Madra's army proved to Catrin that she never wanted to become a soldier. Half of every morning was spent breaking camp, and half the evening was spent making camp. She had to admit that this specific army had problems that no other would. Children ran through the tents in packs, playing and roughhousing. Other, smaller children cried late into the night, every night, making sleep difficult to find. Tempers were short, and patience was in shorter supply than food. When Catrin could take no more, she joined Madra and Benjin by one of the many campfires.

  "Soon we'll turn west, toward Adderhold," Madra said.

  "We'll go east to Ravenhold," Catrin said. "Thank you for everything you've done for us, and may you find what you seek."

  "May the gods be with us all, and may you make your peace--if not for the world, at least for yourself."

  "Thank you, Madra. You are kind. I've a favor I must ask of you," Catrin said, and Madra raised an eyebrow. "May I use one of your horses and ride ahead? There're some things I need that may be hard to come by with an army in the area."

  "You ask a great deal. We've only three horses, and I cannot afford to lose any of them. I'm sorry. I cannot grant this request. All of them need to be shod, and Hedron says his back hurts too much to do it now."

  "Benjin and I can shoe them for you," Catrin said. "I ask nothing in return. It's a small thing we can do to repay the kindness you've shown Chase and the rest of us."

  "If you have the skills," Madra said, "I can get you the tools. I'm certain Hedron will appreciate it, as I do."

  Catrin and Benjin followed Madra to Hedron's tent. He struggled to stand when they arrived. "Ah, Madra. I'm of no use to you at all now, am I?"

  "Nonsense. You'll heal, and then you'll work twice as hard," she said, and they both smiled. "Catrin and Benjin have offered to shoe the horses."

  Hedron smiled and shook Benjin's hand. "Well, come then. There's a shoeing kit in the saddlebags. Poor animals are sore in need. Bless you for your kindness."

  The shoes were indeed wearing thin, and some were pulling away from the hoof, the nails loose or missing. Catrin held each horse as Benjin did what he could. Some shoes were near to wearing all the way through, and he shook his head. "I'm not sure how long this will last, but they're on better than they were. The filly's shoes are pretty far gone."

  "Far better. Far better, indeed," Hedron said. "I'd give her new shoes if we had 'em, but everything is scarce these days."

  "Which horse has the best shoes?" Madra asked.

  "The chestnut gelding," Benjin said. "Only one of his shoes is wearing thin."

  "Take him," Madra said. "Meet us within four days. Don't make me regret this decision," she said. Then she turned her attention to other matters within the camp.

  Catrin sought out Millie. "I need gold. Do you have any you would loan me against the gifts I've received?"

  "The gold is yours, m'lady. I merely keep it safe. Spend it wisely," she said as she handed Catrin a small but fat purse.

  Despite his protests, Catrin persuaded Chase to stay. Leaving her staff in his care, she and Benjin saddled up the chestnut and mounted. "We'll meet you in four days," Benjin said, and Catrin felt the stares on her back as they rode away. The sensation was overwhelmed, though, by the freedom of being on horseback, even if only as a passenger. Synchronizing her movements with the horse, they became almost as one, and she breathed in deeply, enjoying the serenity of the moment.

  "What are we after?" Benjin asked.

  "I need new clothes, and I'd like to get whatever food we can."

  "Clothes?"

  "No matter how much power I may have, people look at me and see a peasant and a child. I need clothes that will create a much different impression."

  "I suppose you're right," Benjin said, "but this is a dangerous foray. We've no idea what the political climate is in these lands or how people will greet us. They may accept your gold and then slip a knife between your ribs."

  Catrin didn't have a response for that. She felt it was a chance she had to take.

  They rode through silent wilderness for much of the day, but then more settled lands came into view. Few people worked the fields, but some stood from their labors and stared as Catrin and Benjin rode by. More stares followed as they entered a small town, and Benjin slowed their mount to a walk.

  Shop owners hawked wares silently by holding up their finest products and displaying others on outdoor shelves and racks. An elderly woman held up a pair of leather leggings as they passed, and Catrin whispered to Benjin to stop. He reined in and tied the horse off to a nearby post.

  Th
e shop owner nodded to Catrin, and only when they were inside the shop did she speak. "Welcome, lady. What have you need of?"

  "I need three pairs of leggings, a coat, and shirts," Catrin said while admiring the different designs on display within the shop while Benjin stood at the door, watching the shop and their horse at the same time. "I like this design," Catrin said, looking at a jacket of supple leather with reinforced rawhide patches on the elbows and shoulders, the inside lined with soft cloth. "Can you make the leggings to match this?"

  "That I can. Just let me get you measured," the shopkeeper said as she retrieved a long piece of string. With deft and quick movements, she made small knots in the string after each measurement. "I can have those ready in ten or twelve days."

  "I need them sooner," Catrin said. "Can you have them done in two days?"

  "Impossible. I have work to finish for other customers, and I'd have to work day and night, even if I wasn't already behind. I'm sorry. No."

  Catrin nodded and fingered her purse. Pulling out two gold coins, she placed them on the counter. "I need them in two days."

  "Yes. Yes. Certainly, m'lady," the shopkeeper said, her eyes going wide. "I'll have them ready. Is there anything else you need?"

  "Where might I find a cobbler?"

  "My husband's the best in the land, m'lady. Let me get 'im for you," she said and disappeared into the back of the shop. A moment later, a bearded man appeared, looking half asleep, but his wife urged him from behind.

  "Mala says you need shoes?"

  "Boots. I need a pair of sturdy but comfortable boots. And I need them in two days."

  "Can't be done," he said, but Mala cuffed him in the back of the head and whispered in his ear. "Two days, then," he said, rubbing his head. After he measured her feet in equally efficient fashion, Catrin handed him a gold coin.