Prios stepped to the front and led them to the kitchens. When Miss Mariss saw him, her face drained of color. "Get Millie," she said. "Prios is hurt, and…"
Her words fell away when she saw Durin and Strom standing behind Prios. "Which one of you is responsible for all this water?"
No one said anything, but Trinda smiled and pointed at Durin.
"Thanks," Durin said.
"I should have known," Miss Mariss said with clear exasperation. "In fact, I did know. You just confirmed it. Well, I don't care what you have to do, but you go back there and turn it off. Do you understand me? Don't do anything else. Don't try to save us, please, whatever you do."
Durin didn't bother to argue. Instead he just said, "Yes, ma'am."
"It wasn't the boy's fault," Strom said. Miss Mariss wheeled on him, but he held firm. "Trinda told him to jump on the tile with mountains on it, and he jumped onto the one with waves instead. It was an honest mistake."
Durin looked up, surprised by Strom's words, even if they were true. Miss Mariss just took a deep breath and sighed. "Fine. Can't say as I completely understand what that means, but I won't be angry with him for the moment, at least not for that. Fair enough? Now go."
Oddly it made Durin feel much better.
After being forced into a chair by Miss Mariss, Prios looked up to Strom. His eyes conveyed his thoughts. Sinjin was his only concern, and Strom wished he could go with Prios. Torn, Strom also needed to get Durin back to the right place to turn off the water. He wasn't even sure how they would know if they had done it or not without coming all the way back to check, but he really didn't have any other choice. He couldn't expect Durin to go alone because all of this was partially his fault.
Moving his head and his eyes to one side, Prios might as well have said, "Go."
Only a nod was exchanged between them after that; everything was understood. Strom hoped they would meet again.
* * *
Familiar smells invaded Catrin's slumber. She'd been here before, all this had happened before, only this time was different. Again, there were Arghast outside her tent, waiting to serve her, but this time they needed no proof of who she was. Catrin was different this time; she, too, no longer needed proof of who she was. She was the most powerful person in the world, and it no longer terrified her; instead it filled her with resolve. She knew what must be done, and she steeled herself to the necessity of it.
Her stomach growling, Catrin could no longer resist the smell of food, and she pulled aside the tent flap. The muted hush turned to absolute silence, save the occasional rattle of harness. The last time she'd stood before the Arghast, there had been more of them. Catrin had asked them then to protect her and her people. She couldn't help but feel that her request was the reason there were now fewer Arghast. Part of her knew that some were probably still within Dragonhold, but that did not account for the stark contrast in their numbers, and Catrin's mood would not allow for justification. She must choose her words wisely, or the regent dragons might not be the only ones to fade from existence.
The Arghast, since they had become convinced of her power, had been the staunchest of allies and had risked everything for her. They came close to worshipping her. Though she wanted nothing of the sort, she had never tried to discourage it since doing so would inherently reduce her influence over them. Kyrien, too, they worshipped, and in some ways, they showed him even greater respect, which suited Catrin fine. Even as the assembled crowed gathered before her, a host of Arghast were hard at work scrubbing Kyrien's scales and claws. Her concern for him lessened when he spoke in her mind.
This is not at all unpleasant.
If not for the assembled throng, Catrin would have laughed, but she suppressed her mirth, knowing the Arghast did not always understand her. "Thank you, mighty tribes of Arghast. You have once again come to my aid, and I am grateful. And my most noble steed and companion, Kyrien, is also in your debt." These words rolled over the Arghast like wildfire, and the assemblage hooted and raised a hearty cry. It seemed the Arghast did not want the Herald of Istra to have to ask for food, as she had so many years ago. Men and women rushed forward and offered her a dazzling variety of food, many of which Catrin remembered and had even dreamed of. She reached first, almost involuntarily, to a cake made of roasted nuts, honey, and partially dried fruit. It tasted even more wonderful than she remembered. When someone brought her a leather of desert mist, Catrin thought of Mika, and she sent blessings to the spirit of her old friend. He had been instrumental in her negotiations with the tribes. They were a difficult people to understand. At times they groveled before her, and at other times it seemed they made impossible demands of her, demands beyond her ability to satisfy.
"We have cared for you and your dragon," the man Catrin now recognized as Malluke of the Horse clan said. "Is there anything more that you require of us?"
It seemed an innocent enough question, but Catrin knew better. There would be a price. They would ask her to teach them to fly.
"Do you have any straw?"
The question caught Malluke by surprise. After a moment, he nodded.
"Do you have enough to make a stack as big around as Kyrien? And enough rope to tie it into a bundle?"
The man's eyes went wide, and a broad smile crossed his face. "Yes. We have that much straw. And we will stack it as you have said. Thank you, most honored Herald of Istra."
Catrin simply smiled and nodded. Malluke excitedly issued orders to his people, and it wasn't long before they scrambled to comply. Word of the straw dragon traveled fast.
Again, though, Catrin's eyes were drawn to where Kyrien rested, his wings extended in the sun, and people scrubbing, polishing, and oiling his hide. Still she knew he chafed under the saddle, and it was plain that the Arghast would not touch that mystical saddle without her permission.
Malluke followed her as she walked. "I will need assistance removing his saddle," Catrin said without a hint of emotion, though she could sense Malluke's anticipation building. "We must have somewhere to secure the saddle while Kyrien is not wearing it, and we should make sure it is very secure. It is a very precious saddle."
Malluke bowed down before her. "You honor us."
Catrin did not comment; instead, she walked to Kyrien's head. A teenage girl was stroking his closed eyelids, and he was practically purring. Laying her hands on him, she sent him energy.
No.
Kyrien's statement was not compulsion, but it also left no room for argument.
You need to heal as well. The tribes will take great pride in restoring my well-being, and I want them to have earned it. It's important.
Though she wasn't quite certain why it was important, Catrin smiled and asked, "Anything else?"
The saddle is restricting me… and it itches.
"Anything else?"
Be ready. We are being watched.
Before Catrin could turn to look, Kyrien showed her the image of a small feral dragon and its rider concealed on an overhang high above them. As if it had heard the entire exchange, the feral moved and sent rocks tumbling into the valley. Catrin and the Arghast all turned to where the sound had originated. Alarm cries rang out. Within moments, dozens of men wielded long spears, looking to have been made for the sole purpose of fighting dragons. Catrin admired the Arghast for their preparedness.
"The dark one knows it has lost the advantage of stealth," Catrin said, "and now it must wonder how deeply the tribes of Arghast will bite. It would appear they have very sharp teeth."
Malluke grinned at her, though most of the Arghast remained on high alert. Malluke quickly assigned rotating watches and instructed all spearman to remain on standby. In truth, few could take their eyes from the spot where the dragon and rider were now poorly concealed.
Still, the Arghast were dedicated and determined. Men and women carried and bound straw until they had constructed something roughly the same shape as Kyrien's torso. With the gathered now turned to face Catrin, waiting for their next
instructions, Catrin took a moment to inspect their work. She made a point of checking the ropes that tied the bales and the larger ones that joined multiple bales together.
Then she turned to the Arghast. "This will suffice. Thank you." She knew she was risking their wrath, but she couldn't have them think her a pushover, no matter how powerful they knew her to be. This was, at its heart, a negotiation, and she intended to bargain from a place of power. She had come to these people a prisoner once, but now they must acknowledge her as a leader.
"Come," she said. "Let us remove the saddle from Kyrien and make him more comfortable." Another thing Catrin knew was that Kyrien was her greatest source of power over the Arghast, even if she hated to think of things in that way. Some of her closest companions had been Arghast, and the memory of their loss shamed her. Still, she needed these people, and they were not easily swayed. Using every opportunity, Catrin demonstrated that she knew Kyrien's mind and heart and that her communication with this most revered of steeds was complete. This, she knew, would be the way to earn their ultimate respect for her. If there was one thing that the Arghast respected, it was the bond between rider and steed. The fact that her steed had wings didn't hurt.
"Kyrien will now retract his wings and hold them up, so they are clear of the saddle. Then we can loosen the girths." The hush that fell over the tribes when Kyrien did as Catrin had said was broken only by the excited murmur over the saddle and its multiple girths, each one set at its own angle and with subtle stitches in the supple leather that helped the saddle conform to Kyrien's body.
For a moment, the air grew tense and the murmur angry when someone asked who would be allowed to touch the saddle first. Catrin had seen the Arghast negotiate before, and they didn't have time to staunch bleeding noses, so she held up her hand and the tribes fell silent. Sweeping her eyes across those assembled, Catrin's gaze landed on a young girl who was soaking wet and covered in sand from her efforts to scrub Kyrien's scales. Without hesitation, Catrin pointed to her. "This girl has earned the honor."
Given the unpredictability of the Arghast, Catrin didn't know how they would react, and it took a moment for the group to decide its mood. Slowly, though, the eldest of them turned to the young girl and bowed deeply. They did not grovel or supplicate, but they acknowledged the girl with great respect. The girl looked as if she might faint, and Catrin moved to her side, taking her arm to steady her. A collective gasp rolled over the Arghast.
Kyrien, too, had turned his head to gaze at the girl, and he nodded to her with closed eyes. You chose well.
Catrin smiled, and she held on tightly to the girl, who it seemed also heard Kyrien since her knees buckled when he spoke. "You've done well," Catrin said to her. "Things are going to change for you, but they will be good changes. Are you ready?"
The girl nodded unconvincingly.
"Can you tell me your name?"
"I am Mikala, most honored Herald of Istra."
"You can call me Catrin, Mikala."
"You honor me, Lady Catrin, just as you honored my grandfather."
"What was your grandfather's name?" Catrin asked, happy to see the girl's confidence growing. "And it's just Catrin, please."
"Yes, Lad--, uh, Catrin. The people called him Aged Goat."
Catrin didn't let her finish, "But his name was Mika, wasn't it?"
"Yes, Catrin," Mikala said with tears forming in her eyes. "You do him a great honor by remembering him."
"Your grandfather was a good man. I miss him."
Those words seemed to seal Mikala to Catrin, and the girl squeezed her hand. "What do you want me to do?" she asked.
"Place your hand on his side and convey your intentions to him through your physical bond."
"Just as I would with a horse," Mikala said in little more than a whisper. The girl closed her eyes, and a look of serene calm came over her face. She laughed. "He's funny."
A smile came to Catrin's face. She'd not gotten to see this side of Kyrien often enough, and it was a very nice change. For a moment, she felt the stress ease, and though she was still driven to get back to her family and to know that everyone was all right, she allowed herself this brief pleasure.
"Start with the outermost girth," Catrin said. "Then work your way in."
Mikala did as she was told, and Kyrien grunted with each girth that was loosened. When she finished, she turned back to Catrin with a questioning gaze.
"We're going to need some help to get the saddle the rest of the way off and moved over to the straw. Would you please gather six strong, young people and some rope?"
A giggle escaped Mikala's lips, and she smiled a shy smile. "He says he wants me to scratch first. May I? Please?"
"Of course," Catrin said.
Kyrien groaned and stretched out his neck, his top lip moving back and forth and a faraway look in his eyes. After ample scratching, Mikala brought a group of well-built young men and one young woman, along with coils of soft rope. The ancient saddle was lighter than the one Catrin had created and by a good margin, but it was still large and unwieldy. In truth, Kyrien could have wriggled out from under it now that the girths were unstrapped, but Catrin wanted the Arghast to have a chance to work with Kyrien and the saddle. They did, after all, expect her to teach them to fly dragons.
The young people Mikala had selected seemed uncertain if they were worthy of the honor. Watching the reactions of the elders, Catrin was proud to see them accepting the girl's decision, rather than taking Catrin's and Mikala's selections as an affront or an attempt to diminish their authority. This moment had, in its own way, been foreordained, and Catrin knew that the Arghast would tell tales of this day for generations to come.
The saddle came free easily in the strong hands of the young people, and it was only the size and complexity of the saddle that made it difficult for them to carry it. When they reached the bales of straw, great care was taken to treat the saddle with the utmost respect. Catrin was unsure if any of them could sense its power, but its beauty alone was enough to create a sense of awe. And of course, to the Arghast, saddles were sacred, especially the one that would help them fulfill what they believed was their destiny: to become dragon riders.
The energy in the valley was almost too much for Catrin, and it made her head swim. She sat down hard and put her head in her hands. Waves of excitement and anxiety washed over her from all around. The rush of blood in her ears drowned out the alarmed cries from the Arghast. Mikala was there, keeping her upright and speaking directly into Catrin's ear.
"Please, Lady Catrin, tell me what I can do."
"Call me Catrin," were the last words spoken before the world went dark.
* * *
In the darkness there was nothing but the smell of salt water and the creaking of cargo; it never stopped. The ship moved at the mercy of the waves, and so did Sinjin, his bindings secure. Cramped and chafed, he wanted to scream, but he saved his energy, knowing no good would come of it. After trying unsuccessfully to do as his mother had taught him and find his center, he remained frustrated and unsuccessful. In the end, though, he had nothing but time to consider the many questions in his mind and eventually found himself thinking these thoughts in a field of lush grass with blue skies and warm sunlight on his face. Only the smell of salt water ruined the illusion, that and the sound of boot steps on deck.
The sound of the hatch made Sinjin shy away from the coming light. He never knew what to expect when someone came through the hatch. Most of the crew ignored him or treated him with indifference, but there were a few who liked to take their frustrations out on him, and he squinted, waiting to get some sign of what was coming. Instead of blazing light, Sinjin saw Kendra silhouetted against churning black clouds in relative darkness. The girl slipped in as quietly as she could, but it still sounded thunderous in Sinjin's ears. He tensed when she came near and closed his eyes when she put her lips up to his ear. "A storm's coming," Kendra said without preamble. "If you want off this ship, this is your chance. The boats s
tand at the ready, and with the storm to provide cover, I think we can launch one without anyone seeing us.”
"Us?" Sinjin asked after she pulled his gag free.
"Of course, us. You don't think I want to stay on a ship with these monsters, do you?"
"I don't know," Sinjin said.
"Oh, shut up and listen to me," Kendra said. "When I come back for you, you have to be ready. I'll cut you loose, and then you'll follow me up the ladder and keep low once up on deck. Just follow me and be ready to pull hard on the ropes when I tell you. Got it?"
"That's a terrible plan," Sinjin said.
"Do you have a better one?"
Sinjin had to admit that he didn't, so he remained silent.
"Then be ready when I come back for you. And eat all of this. You're going to need your strength. Into his hands she pressed smoked beef and dried orange slices. His bonds allowed for some movement, and he managed to get a bite of the smoked beef; it was hard and salty, and the smoky flavor emerged as he chewed. From within her jacket, Kendra produced a flask of water and a partially eaten loaf of bread. It took a moment to identify the items by feel, but Sinjin accepted them greedily. The water soothed his throat but made him cough as he tried to drink too much, too fast. It seemed to echo within the hold, and the sounds of boots above were getting closer. Kendra retreated again and was gone, the hatch slamming shut behind her.
Moments later, Sinjin could hear conversation from above. He couldn't make out the words, but he didn't like the sound of it. Even if Kendra's plan was crazy, he had to admit that it was better than no plan, which was what he had. For some reason, he still wasn't ready to show Kendra that he trusted her. It might be that he still wasn't certain he did trust her, yet he could find nothing for her to gain from plotting with him, except maybe to gain his trust. His thoughts traveled in a vicious circle that left him frustrated and angry. Only the increased action of the waves distracted him. What had been graceful rocking before had now become moments of being suspended in air before dropping off a cliff, only to rebound and do it again. It was making Sinjin's stomach churn.
The Balance of Power (Godsland Series: Books Four, Five, and Six) Page 29