"But how could something so far away cause red snow here?"
"Just as the oceans carried the great wave," Brother Vaughn said. "The winds must have carried some of the fouled air here. I don't think there'll be any long-term effects, save perhaps fear."
Johen looked doubtful, but Catrin felt a great relief. The red snow was a frightening anomaly, and it made her feel better to have a more practical explanation.
Looking at her father, she marveled at his strength. His hair had gone gray, and he walked with a limp, but his eyes still held the same steely strength. Even when he smiled at her, his face at its softest, there was strength of conviction.
Benjin looked older too--all of them did--but his relationship with Fasha seemed to be bringing out a much younger personality. Catrin watched them as they laughed; there was excitement in their eyes as they discussed plans for the future. Catrin lacked their enthusiasm; ahead she saw a long and difficult road, and she wasn't certain she would ever be truly happy again.
Peace had not been made, and she doubted her attack on Master Edling would endear her to those who already considered her the enemy. Despite having forgiven Kyrien for pulling her away, she had a burning in her stomach, and she knew it could only be quelled by resolving her anger toward Baker Hollis. He had said he could explain, but there was no explanation that could be sufficient; no circumstances could have warranted such a cowardly act. If he'd had his way, Catrin, too, would be dead. Trying to recall the image of her mother and aunt became frustrating, as all she could form was a vague and gauzy image. Memory was fading, and she could no longer picture their faces in her mind.
"I have men looking for Baker Hollis," her father had said, but it came as a shock when a man arrived with an urgent message. "Catrin, Jensen, Benjin, Chase," Wendel said, his voice a harsh baritone that sounded only barely in control. "Come with me." All conversation stopped, and anxiety poured from everyone in the room. Catrin urged Benjin forward, wanting to escape the confined emotion. Her father led them to one of the buildings not built from a greatoak, made instead of pine with a thatch roof. Reddish water dripped onto the dirt floor as the snow inexorably melted. On a crate, with his hands tied, sat Baker Hollis. A well-muscled guard stood behind him, alert and seemingly ready for any threat.
"Untie him," Wendel growled. Baker Hollis rubbed his wrists and began to cry. Everyone who was crowded into the small room had reason to want him dead. By the look of him, trembling and crying, he seemed poignantly aware.
Chase stood with his hands balled into fists, and Catrin had never seen Uncle Jensen so enraged. The pain that radiated from them was nauseating, and Catrin nearly fled, but she had to know. If she did not witness this, no matter how painful, she would never forgive herself.
"Why?" her father demanded.
"I'm so sorry," Baker Hollis said. "I didn't know it would kill them. They made me do it."
"Who?"
"The Greatlanders," Baker Hollis said.
"How did they make you?"
"They took my little Trinda. What those monsters did to her, I'll never know, but she's never been the same. I should have killed her, freed her from the horrors, and let them kill me, but I couldn't do it. It wouldn't have saved Willa and Elsa, even if I had. The Greatlanders would've found another way. Please forgive me."
Wendel stood, hovering over Baker Hollis, seemingly on the verge of exploding, but then he seemed to deflate. "The people responsible still hide in the Greatland?" he asked in a voice just above a whisper.
Catrin thought it the most frightening voice she'd ever heard. "The person responsible is dead," she said, only then releasing her anger. She had been ready to rip Baker Hollis to pieces, but now she could find no target for her fury. She remembered the look that haunted Trinda's eyes; she remembered the pain she had plainly seen for so many years. How could she blame Baker Hollis for wanting to protect his daughter? "Arbuckle Kyte ordered their deaths, and mine, but now he's dead. It's over. There's nothing more we can do."
Uncle Jensen wheeled in frustration and kicked the door, which fell before his fury.
Chase bent down and looked Baker Hollis in the eye. "If you ever endanger my family again, I'll hunt down you, your daughter, and everyone you ever loved. If you get threatened into hurting us again, I suggest you come to me first."
Baker Hollis nodded, sweat dripping from his nose.
Chase followed his father into the night, also venting his rage on what remained of the door.
Benjin left Catrin and Wendel alone with Baker Hollis. Catrin sat in silence, trying to reconcile her feelings; her father seemed frozen in time. "I'm sorry about Trinda," Catrin finally said, and Baker Hollis looked up in surprise. Confusion radiated from him, as if he suspected a trap. "I'm sorry about her pain and yours. I'll never get my mother or my aunt back, and you'll never be able to fix what happened to Trinda. For those things, I am truly sorry. I don't like you, and I'm still angry, but I won't kill you." Her words fell like rolling thunder, and there was finality in them.
"Release him," Wendel said, and he turned to leave. Catrin followed him and rushed to catch up when she saw his shoulders begin to shake. For a moment he allowed himself to cry, to once again mourn the loss of his true love, but then he drew a deep breath. "You're stronger than I," he said without looking up. "I couldn't be more proud of you, Catrin. You've grown to be the woman I always knew you could be."
"I draw my strength from you."
"I would've killed him if it weren't for you," Wendel said, still staring at the ground. "I wanted so badly to hurt him, to make him feel my pain." Wendel raised his eyes to Catrin's. What she saw there was not weakness; it was vulnerability presented as a gift to one he knew would not hurt him.
"I love you, Daddy," she said, and he held her tightly as they cried.
"I love you too, my little Cat."
* * *
Warmer weather banished the blood scourge, and the memory began to fade. No longer did people instantly react in fear, and Catrin felt she was making progress at winning back her own people, but it still felt good to be out in the wilderness with only Chase and Prios, searching for the underground lake.
"I'm tellin' ya," Chase said, "it's this way. I recognize that outcropping of trees." Already he'd been convinced three times, and all three times they were disappointed. Catrin found it hard to believe that someplace where they had spent so much time would be so difficult to find, but those memories, too, had begun to fade. Prios just shrugged and followed Chase. He'd become more open lately, using the chalk and slate Uncle Jensen had given him to communicate with those who could not hear him in their minds. In some cases, he used the slate simply because hearing his voice was something not everyone was prepared for, and some people did not seem to understand his gestures and body language. The slate and chalk appeared to remove a barrier of fear that seemed to keep many from becoming close to him. Now he seemed to enjoy using it for fun, as if it had become a game for him.
Chase stopped and turned when Prios tapped him on the shoulder. Prios held up his slate. Hungry, it read, and Chase laughed. Prios had written the word hours ago, and at regular intervals tapped him on the shoulder, showing him the same word. From his pack, Chase produced three of the pepper sausages he knew Prios wanted. Since the first time he'd tried one, he'd wanted little else. Prios smiled and accepted the sausage. Chase shook his head and put the other two back. He tossed Catrin an apple, and he nibbled on some cheese, saving the sausages for the next time Prios held up his slate.
Satisfied, they continued their search, and Catrin started looking higher, trying to find the peaks she remembered to orient herself by them. It was not something she was skilled at, but the direction she guessed was the same as the path Chase chose next, and she moved with renewed confidence. "Look!" she said as they moved past a pile of large rocks overgrown with bushes.
Up above rested the rotting remains of the screen Chase had once made to hide the light of their fire. Seeing the place broug
ht back feelings of fear and anxiety, but there were also good memories. Catrin climbed without regret and felt the same sense of awe when she entered the man-made passage. Piles of walnuts still lay where they had been left. Much of the food was gone, and the shelves were overturned, most likely raided by scavengers.
Chase found a salted perch that was nearly whole. "I wonder if it's still good," he mused, holding it up as if he were about to eat it. Prios wrinkled his nose and shook his head; then he smiled and pointed at Chase's pack. Chase laughed and produced another pepper sausage.
Catrin looked beyond the remains of their camp and used her imagination. She pictured all the openings cleared and repaired and boats floating across the hidden lake.
"Now that we've found it again," Chase said, "what will you do?"
"I'll prepare for the future," Catrin said. "I believe what Nat said, and even if he is wrong, what do we stand to lose? If we don't prepare, we stand to lose everything."
"You know I'll help in any way I can," Chase said, and Prios moved to her side.
He smiled and nodded. I will help.
"The first thing we need to do," Catrin said, "is make sure we can find this place again. Then we'll go back and talk to my dad and Uncle Jensen. We'll figure something out."
* * *
As they walked back into Lowerton, Catrin saw a young boy running down the middle of the roadway, and she was struck by recognition.
"Elma!" he shouted as he ran, and Catrin laughed.
Prios squeezed her hand. Elma?
"It's a long story," she said.
"I tol' you I was gonna be a great adventurer some day, didn't I?" Jessub Tillerman said. "I sailed all the way to the Falcon Isles and then on t' the Godfist. Just like my dad!"
"Did your gramma and grampa come with you?" Catrin asked. Jessub was bigger and older than when she'd seen him last, and he seemed offended by her question.
"Yeah," he said. "A whole shipload o' people came from the Greatland. Most came t' see you, but I came t' see my dad!"
"Your father is a fine man," she said.
Jessub seemed to forget all about being insulted. "D'ya really have a dragon? What's 'is name? Where is he? Can I see him? Did he really pick ya up in his teeth? How come you didn't die?"
Catrin tried to answer his questions, but each answer spawned a dozen new questions, and she was exhausted by the time she reached the Watering Hole. Her father and a room full of people, some she recognized, some she didn't, waited within. Seeing Milo and Gustad made her smile, and she ran to embrace them.
Rolph and Collette Tillerman moved through the crowd to greet her. "When Martik said his skills were needed here, I knew we had t' come," Rolph said.
"I'm so glad t' see ya," Collette said, and she hugged Catrin.
A moment later, Brother Vaughn approached with a beautiful woman on his arm; they both smiled. "Catrin, this is Mirta Greenroot. You've never met her, but she received a gift from you. It was to Mirta that I sent the pyre-orchids you harvested."
"Thank you, Lady Catrin," Mirta said. Her genuine smile and the twinkle in her eyes endeared her to Catrin instantly. "So much sickness has been stopped because of your gift. I dried it and ground it to powder. Whenever sickness began to spread, I was able to save people and prevent further spreading. I sent powder to healers across the Greatland. Your efforts saved hundreds if not thousands. Now I bring pyre-orchid to your people, as a gift."
Tears filled Catrin's eyes, overjoyed to know that she may have actually saved more lives than she had taken away. It did not banish her remorse, but it did make her feel much better about herself. "Thank you, Mirta. It would seem you and Benjin deserve more credit than I. He insisted we harvest the flowers, and you made certain they did not go to waste. You have a generous heart. I thank you for coming so far to deliver your gift."
"I think I'd like to stay here," Mirta said, suddenly shy, and she looked up at Brother Vaughn.
"Be welcome, Mirta," Catrin said, and Brother Vaughn smiled. Wendel approached. "We found the cavern," she said to him.
"I knew you would," Wendel said. "Before you returned, I wasn't well enough to search for it myself, and no one could find it armed with only my description. With a lot of work, it could be a good, safe place. Many of these people have come here to help you. All you need to do is ask."
"You're right," Catrin said, overwhelmed by the responsibility and expectation. So much had happened in so short a time, she had difficulty gathering her thoughts. Remembering how Mother Gwendolin had used the viewing ceremony as a way to find clarity, Catrin wondered if she couldn't create her own ceremony.
She stood up on a chair to address the crowd. "I want to thank you all for coming . . . and for everything you've done along the way. A new day has come, and we must prepare for what lies ahead. I feel I have a purpose I must fulfill, but I must first grasp the true nature of that purpose. When I return, I will enlist the aid of all who are willing."
Chapter 20
The sum of our lives can be judged only by what we leave behind--our legacy.
--Fedicus Illiani, historian
* * *
Hiking along the wide trail that had been created to get the greatoaks to Lowerton, Catrin prepared herself for meditation. Pulling her layers of clothing tighter, she tried to clear her mind as much as she could, but she was easily distracted. Knowing Chase was following her didn't help. He'd made no mistakes, and she had no reason to believe he was really there except a strong feeling, but that was enough for her. The feeling of his presence was so strong, she kept expecting him to walk out of the trees.
When the trail opened into the meadow, Catrin was transformed, transported back to the first time she'd entered the hallowed grove. She saw the trees as they were then, and she could still feel their energy and that of the stone. Perhaps she had not utterly destroyed the grove after all; perhaps some energy remained, dormant . . . waiting.
As she approached the stumps and grisly remains, she winced, but the energy drew her on. A few mighty trunks still lay where they had fallen, as if waiting for some use to present itself. When she reached the center of the black stone, she realized it did not look as terrible as when she had seen it last. Wind and rain had cleaned away the powdery grit, and now the black stone, though pocked, had begun to regain some of its luster.
Sitting with a crater between her crossed legs, she dug the tip of her staff into the stone. Holding her staff in one hand and Koe in the other, she closed her eyes and relaxed. In her mind, she traveled to the grove of the past and located the visual representation of her center amid the mighty greatoaks. Suffused by the energy around her, Catrin could feel the trees. She could see them and touch them. To her, they were still real, still alive. As she leaned forward, she had the strange sensation of moving downward, as if her staff were sinking into the stone. She kept her eyes closed, not wanting to leave her state of consciousness.
Dryads peeked around each of the trees in her mind, and they sang to her. There were no words, only melodies, but they were rich and delicate, like the tinkling of a fine bell over the sound of pounding surf, backed by the whisper of the wind through leaves. Birds sang their varied songs, somehow in harmony with the dryads, as if nature itself were playing her a chorus.
A feeling of security enveloped her, and she was washed with the relief of tension she hadn't even known she'd been holding on to. No one could touch her here; no one could harm her. She was safe. It was not something she could tell herself; her body had to believe it before she could truly relax. The physical world vanished from her senses, supplanted by the world of energy and possibilities. For a time, Catrin simply bathed herself in its warmth. No concerns pulled at her focus, no worries drained her energy. Here, she was perfect.
Slowly she began to process her thoughts. As always, some were painful, others whimsical. She dealt with her feelings and emotions and was left with only questions of practicality. How would she convince people they needed to learn to live undergrou
nd? History and Nat's visions agreed. There had already been times when man had to retreat within the land, and Catrin knew she must succeed.
Though she thought she had cleared her mind and dealt with all her worries, an ugly, gnawing fear rose to the surface: Prios. Already she had feelings for him, and she suspected he felt much the same, but she had promised herself. After using her powers to heal herself, she'd sworn she would never have children. How could she take away from Prios the ability to pass on his line? How could she ever explain to him? Would he understand?
Suddenly, her calm and relaxing place became a maelstrom of anxiety. Then something, which felt like being tucked in by one you love, washed over her and brought calm. Everything would be as it should. She now knew what she must do.
With a course charted, she felt the anxiety drain away as if it had never been. The decision put her in a receptive frame of mind, and images began to spring forth, seemingly from the nothingness.
She saw a great hall and an underground complex capable of supporting thousands. Instead of a spooky and forbidding place, she began to see it as a thriving microcosm, a miniature ecosystem tucked inside the safety of a mountain. No longer was the hidden lake little more than a curiosity to her; it was a place where they could stock fish. She pictured underground farms fed water and fertilizer from the lake. The vision of her new home gave her great pride, though she had yet to do the work. She would; she knew she would. Seeing it here, in this world of energy, was as good as it being, and it brought tears to her eyes.
Resolved, she felt herself relax even further, and it felt as if, once again, her staff sank lower into the stone. Deep, rhythmic breathing propelled her from one moment to the next, and finally her mind was quiet, free of conflict. The song of nature took on new layers of beauty as it rose to a thrilling crescendo, and Catrin let herself ride the enchanting melody.
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