The Balance of Power (Godsland Series: Books Four, Five, and Six)

by Rathbone, Brian

  "Two," Morif said.

  Brother Vaughn wasn't going to argue the point.

  "It's my intention to install gates at the entrance to the God's Eye, to the kitchens, and to the newly opened part of the keep. These gates will be guarded at all times, and I don't want anyone giving my people any trouble. If you do, you're going to have to stare at my face for a long time."

  "The infirmary is overloaded," Mirta said when it was her turn to speak. "We need help. Millie and I can only do so much, and even those without healing skills can be of help to us. Please come and see what we are doing, and I know you'll find a way to help."

  Brother Vaughn heard an annoyed sound at the mention of Millie, and he turned to see where Trinda had gone. Millie had been the strongest opponent to Trinda's being in the hold, and he suspected he knew who had made the sound. When his initial scan of the area failed to find the girl, he heard the rustle of clothing higher up, and he looked up to what should have been a vacant throne. Trinda sat on the edge, appearing impossibly small with her legs hanging over. She looked down on them as one might look down on ants, and it gave Brother Vaughn a chill. He gestured to her, indicating that she should get down, but she pretended not to see. If the others saw her, it would not go well for the girl, and Catrin was no longer here to protect her. Brother Vaughn knew his influence went only so far, and it could hardly stand up to an insult of this magnitude.

  "I say we should reclaim the valley and rebuild Lowerton," another shout came from the crowd. "It won't take that much work to repair the terraces, and we can be farming again in no time." This man seemed to have no hesitation in taking credit for his statement, though Brother Vaughn didn't recognize him. He didn't know many of the farmers who had lived in the valley, so it was not surprising.

  "No," Trinda said from atop the throne, and Brother Vaughn felt the blood drain from his face.

  A few people looked around to see who'd spoken, but no one looked up to the throne. It was almost as if Trinda were somehow invisible, yet Brother Vaughn could see her clearly.

  "I agree that we'll need to grow as much food as we can," the farmer said. "Certainly we should concentrate on ways to grow food within the hold, but in the meantime, we should take advantage of whatever is available to us."

  "I said, no!" Trinda's voice carried over the crowd this time, and everyone looked up to where she sat.

  The spell was broken, and Brother Vaughn sighed. This was not going to go well. "Come down from there," he said. "And don't interrupt the ad--"

  A sharp look from Trinda reminded him that she only appeared to be a child. She was older than Catrin by a couple of years, and now the courage and resolve of those years shone in Trinda's eyes. How could he not have seen it before? How had he allowed her to come into the hold? What had he done? A very cold feeling came over him, and he waited to see what would happen next, afraid to act, afraid to make things worse. This was entirely his fault, and he could think of no excuse or justification that would absolve him of guilt. He'd felt sorry for an adult in the guise of a child, and she'd played on his sympathy with extraordinary skill.

  "You come down from there this instant, you insolent little monster," Mirta said, but she, too, was cut short by a look from Trinda. There was a warning in her eyes, and Mirta, surprisingly, heeded it.

  "I will not come down," Trinda said.

  "If you don't come down from there, I'm going to come up there after you," Morif said, and there was no humor in his tone. He and Mirta were Millie's closest companions, and her hatred of this girl seemed to have influenced them as well.

  "I said, no!" Trinda commanded, and she slammed her closed fist down on the stone. Radiating from the impact was an ice blue wave of energy and air that sent Morif and the others backward a step. "Your ruler has left you behind. And now you have a new ruler. If you wish to remain within Dragonhold, you'll swear fealty to me. Now. Those who do not swear fealty will be asked to leave."

  "You don't think a little cold air is going to keep me from paddling your bottom, do you?" Morif asked as he stepped forward once again. A deadly silence hung in the air, and Morif took another step forward. Brother Vaughn prayed Morif would stand against her and end this madness.

  "You may leave," Trinda said to Morif. "You and the fat woman."

  This brought a flush to Morif's face, and Brother Vaughn had never seen the man so angry. In two steps, Morif would reach the base of the throne, but he managed only a single step; in the middle of the second, he was thrust backward. He could not even remain upright. Still moving backward and sliding on his rear end, Morif slammed into the unmoving gate. The workmen stopped, and everyone moved away from where Morif was now pinned to the gate.

  "You there," Trinda said to Mirta. "You are forgiven because you were influenced by the fat woman. You may stay. Go back to the infirmary and send the fat woman to me. Do you understand?"

  Mirta nodded and ran from the assembly, tears streaming down her face.

  Moments later Millie's voice could be heard across the distance, echoing within the hall. "The little chit did what?"

  Brother Vaughn tried to catch his breath and hoped Millie would cool her temper before she reached them.

  It was not to be. The woman was in a red-faced rage when she approached the throne. "Well. Your highness, how might I be of service to your royal self?"

  "You may leave," Trinda said.

  "I most certainly will not."

  "You will leave." Again Trinda slammed down her fist, and another cold blast shook the great hall. It sent Millie falling backward, and she looked up at Trinda with undisguised hatred. "I don't like you," was all Trinda said before she sent Millie sliding across the mosaic floor to rest next to Morif, who still looked as if he were paralyzed.

  "You," Trinda said, pointing to Brother Vaughn, "may stay. But you will never scold me again. Is that understood?"

  He nodded.

  "The gate to the great hall shall be secured and then reinforced again," Trinda said.

  "It'll never open," Martik said under his breath, but his voice carried through the silence.

  "I do not wish the gate to open," Trinda said. Only silence greeted that statement. "If there are any who would not swear fealty to me, move to the gate. You will not be harmed, and you will be allowed to leave before the gate is sealed. You will, however, never be allowed to return."

  Brother Vaughn looked around, waiting to see who would join Millie and Morif, but no one did, and so it was that control of Dragonhold passed to Trinda Hollis, the daughter of a baker. Brother Vaughn was surprised to see Trinda reiterate most of the orders that had already been given, and only a few things changed with regard to how the hold was being run. Food would still be rationed, the water channels would be cleared, and the guard remained intact, although missing its leader. Morif had been in charge of the guard since its formation, and Chase now quietly maintained control, though everyone wondered how long it would be before Trinda realized Catrin's cousin was leading her guard. He supposed the biggest change, though, outside of Millie and Morif being exiled, was that the hold had been closed to the rest of the world. By Trinda's orders, the keep would have to function in an entirely self-sufficient manner. This was something Catrin had never been able to achieve, and it saddened Brother Vaughn that tyranny was required to accomplish the goal.

  When Trinda spoke again, her forceful words made it clear to Brother Vaughn that a great many things were about to change. "Who among you will swear fealty to me and guard me with your life, step forward."

  No one moved or spoke. Brother Vaughn was imagining what would happen if no one stepped forward when Bradley left the crowd and stood before Trinda. He went to one knee and bowed his head.

  "What is your name?"

  "Bradley, your highness."

  "You are the chief of my guard. Assemble five of your best men before me."

  Bradley hesitated only a moment before he called out five names. Two young men stepped forward immediately. There w
as a delay before two more came. Bradley scanned the crowd, looking to see if Feddy, the last he had called, was among those gathered. When the young man finally stepped forward, there was hesitation in his stride, but Bradley gave him a reassuring nod.

  "I've a special task for you," Trinda said, "a task of the utmost importance. I want you to bring me every one of these that was ever made." In her hand, she held a herald globe that glowed more brightly than one fully charged in sunlight. Most would not have noticed this or understood the significance, but Brother Vaughn knew very well just how dangerous herald globes could be in the wrong hands. It definitely seemed that Trinda's hands were now the wrong hands. One herald globe in her possession was enough to worry Brother Vaughn; every herald globe in existence would give her an arsenal the likes of which the Godsland had never seen, or at least had not seen in thousands of years. When Bradley turned to his men, he caught Brother Vaughn's eye and gave an almost imperceptible nod.

  "I need a messenger," Trinda said next. Brother Vaughn noted that this girl wasted little time. "Who will serve?"

  A young man Brother Vaughn didn't know was shoved forward by the woman behind him, presumably the boy's mother.

  "I don't need one so unsure. Are you certain you wish to serve as my messenger?"

  The boy drew himself up and raised his eyes. "Yes, lady. I'm certain."

  "Good," Trinda said. "Go to the Masterhouse. Tell Master Edling--and only Master Edling--that I now hold Dragonhold. Tell him to come here, with my father, at their earliest convenience. Tell them I look forward to giving them a tour of my new keep. Now repeat the words to me."

  The young man repeated the words and stammered only twice, but he managed to get the words in the right order.

  "Go," was all Trinda said.

  * * *

  Catrin knew the Falcon Isles when she saw them, and she urged Kyrien to land west of town, closer to the wilderness. She could sense his anxiety, and she shared it, but they needed rest, and the isles were the only land nearby. The ferals and the black navy had gone east, but that didn't mean they wouldn't come back. They may even have left a force behind to act as a rear guard; the thought further eroded Catrin's confidence.

  When traveling between the Greatland and the Godfist, the Falcon Isles were the only significant landmass. It would make sense for their arrival to be expected.

  Turning to Prios, Catrin smiled. A sad smile came to his face as well and he nodded. They would stop here to rest. Kyrien came in fast, and he overshot the beach where Catrin had asked him to land. This alone was enough to let her know that he needed rest and healing. She hadn't intended to search out the Gunata or Nat Dersinger, but she saw people in a clearing as they turned, and it was clear that they'd been seen. That would be all the signal Nat needed. Though she considered him a friend, he'd always managed to complicate her life. The thoughts were muddy and indistinct--a sign of her own fatigue. After they landed, her body still tingled from flight, and her legs were unsteady beneath her when she stood in the saddle.

  For a moment, Catrin considered remaining strapped in and just sleeping in the saddle, but Prios squirmed behind her, freeing himself from the straps. It took Catrin a few moments longer to unstrap herself and climb down, and she walked with a stiff gait to where Kyrien's head rested.

  "You're a valiant soul," she said.

  I'm a traitor and a failure. No matter what I do, I can never make up for what I've done. I still have hope for you, but for me, time is punishment.

  Catrin felt his pain deeply, and she wished there were some way to prove it all untrue. It was odd that he had hope for her and she, hope for him. Yet neither could scrape up much hope for themselves. Perhaps that was why they were together, to provide hope for each other. Prios somehow maintained a positive outlook. The pain of his childhood had prepared him well for hardship, and he seemed to deal better with that than when things were going well for him. For Catrin, he was strength and stability. Prios was always there for her and for Sinjin. He'd always been a good husband and a good father. But no one else knew him as Catrin did. No one else saw the warrior who'd fought for his freedom, who had fought with everything he had for Catrin ever since.

  Catrin knew his power and fortitude, and she was grateful. Before she knew it, she'd fallen asleep, leaning on Kyrien.

  * * *

  A pale red hue painted the cloudless sky, and the shadows were deep when Catrin awakened. It took some time for her to realize where she was and to recognize her surroundings. When she cleared the fog from her mind, she realized they were not alone. Prios slept nearby and Kyrien was in a stupor. They were about as unprepared as they could be.

  "Hello, Catrin," Nat Dersinger said. "I hope I didn't wake you. My people stand guard over you. If you need more rest, then sleep. We will be here when you wake."

  Catrin should have taken his advice. Instead, she stood, walked to Nat, and gave him a hug that he did not fully return.

  "It's good to see you," she said, and he did not reply. His eyes were scanning Kyrien and the beach around him.

  "Where is the staff?" he asked, and there was a dangerous note in his voice.

  Guilt washed over Catrin. Nat's family had cared for that staff for generations. "Lost," she said. "Stolen. Thorakis has taken it."

  Nat's face grew red with rage, and his hands balled into fists. "How could you let this happen? You know the power of that staff. How could you let it fall into the hands of someone like Thorakis?"

  Catrin took a step back from his unexpected anger.

  "I've seen, Catrin. I've seen what happens if you have the staff . . . and what happens if you lose it. And you've lost it. May the gods have mercy on your foolhardy soul, for I will not. You, Catrin Volker, are hereby banished from the Falcon Isles. You'll find no respite here unless you return with the staff. Do not make me force you from here. Do the honorable thing and go."

  Stunned, Catrin took another step back. Prios stirred on the shoreline, and Kyrien's great lidded eyes drew open just a little.

  "Come," Catrin said through her tears. "We're no longer welcome here."

  Chapter 9

  Dragons are as easy to understand as the wind.

  --Brother Vaughn, Cathuran monk

  * * *

  Millie walked in a daze, with Morif guiding her around obstacles and looking out for any other dangers. Even he was driven to speechlessness by the turn of events. Millie had said all along that Trinda was trouble, but even she would never have guessed just how much trouble. Catrin would not have allowed them to be cast out of Dragonhold, to be sent without so much as a biscuit and knife into country still harboring demons. Millie had disliked the girl before, but now it was personal. Now she would spend the rest of her days searching for a way to repay the kindness. She also worried about all of those who had stayed. Though it stung a bit that no one had chosen to stand with her and Morif, it was probably for the best. Morif didn't need more people to look after.

  He took them north, through the Pinook Valley, heading toward where Upperton had stood. Neither knew the fate of the town, but optimism was scarce. When the first ruined structures came into view, it was clear that the obliteration of Upperton was complete. Shadows moved in the distance ahead, and Morif pulled Millie behind a fallen building. Slowly they moved from shadow to shadow. Millie could feel the presence of something else, and her blood went cold. Morif was a seasoned warrior, but he was no match for demons. Those unnatural creatures were aberrations, a twisted mockery of nature's true intention. An involuntary whimper escaped her lips.

  Pulling her to speeds that she could not maintain, Morif tried to get Millie clear of the destroyed town. At every turn there were movement and shadows, and it felt as if the darkness were gathering to smother them. Daylight was fading fast, and Millie shivered at the thought of sleeping out here in the dark. Ahead, a section of roofing from a building leaned against the valley wall and formed what appeared to be a stable, dry, and defensible space. A triangular opening stood da
rk and foreboding.

  Millie wanted nothing to do with going into that space, but she would follow Morif with her mouth closed if that was what he told her to do. For as much grief as she gave him when they weren't in danger, she knew just how close death was now, and her trust in him was complete. It brought a flush to her cheeks that blended with her already reddened and sweaty skin. It shamed her that she could not keep up, and she swore that she would make changes in her life. It actually seemed that Trinda had made that decision for her, and she didn't like that feeling one bit.

  Morif moved in closer to the lean-to, and Millie's blood ran cold. She knew it was only her fear that had her convinced monsters waited in the darkness, but still that fear kept her frozen in place. Morif turned and waved for her to follow. Then the blood drained from his face. In the next instant, his powerful hands grabbed Millie by the shoulders and propelled her into the darkness.

  With her hands thrust out before her, it was all she could do to keep from crying out. Some instinct stilled her tongue. Luckily for them, the space sheltered by the roof was otherwise empty, and just enough light crept in to allow Millie to find her way to a place where she could stand and remain hidden.

  Morif held a finger to his lips and moved to the opposite opening. Unable to remain where she was, Millie followed him and peered out, trying to see what it was that had Morif afraid. Her knees trembled at the thought of demons and giants coming to eat them, and she cursed herself for a coward, though she knew it wasn't true. Anyone who felt no fear in the face of those horrors must already be dead, Millie thought, still unable to see anything. Then she heard something that gave her a start: weeping accompanied by hushed yet harsh conversation. Light danced across the valley floor, painting the destruction in swaying shadows.

  Finally Millie saw a group of dark shapes with torches. Her breath froze in her throat as Morif tensed. When the group drew closer, wary of the darkness where Millie and Morif hid, she knew they would be found. Then a familiar voice called out, "Who's in there?"