More attacks came from above, and Catrin craned her neck to see. Attacks of power still came from in front of them, but Catrin knew she could not allow the ferals to come at them from overhead. The dark men on dragonback must have sensed the coming attack, as they all launched attacks at once, showering Kyrien, Catrin, and Prios with fire. Pain erupted along Kyrien's wings, and Catrin could feel his agony as it scorched the skin and threatened to burn through his thick outer hide. Quickly gathering air, Catrin used it to snuff the flames. Prios did what he could to deflect incoming attacks, but Catrin had left their flank exposed, and fire erupted across the saddle. Now it was Catrin and Prios who were afire. A wordless scream rose up from behind Catrin, and Prios's voice was filled with agony.
Trying desperately to get free of the fire, Catrin panicked and lashed out with random bursts of air. She exercised no control over the power, letting it go where it wished. Prios's scream became a strangled cry as her energy doused the flames but nearly launched him out of the saddle. The straps only loosely held him in place, and he had to grab on to Catrin when Kyrien suddenly climbed, thrusting Prios back into the saddle.
Catrin wanted to ask him if he was all right, but she could not catch her breath, and the pain made thought almost impossible. Prios remained silent behind her, only his firm grip on her gave evidence that he was still alive. Catrin could sense him, though; she could feel his energy, just as she could feel Sinjin's energy below them. That was the only thing that kept her going. Kyrien's pain became her pain, and Prios's pain burned into her consciousness, even if he did try to hide it from her, but then she also felt Sinjin's pain. A mother's cry escaped her lips as pain exploded through his body. Over and over, it felt as if his body were being torn apart; then came the sensation of being choked. If Catrin could have breathed, she would have screamed again.
* * *
The spiraling steps seemed to go on forever, winding down the walls of a massive cylinder that dropped away to what might be the very heart of Godsland. Kendra walked behind, chained and shackled, just as he was, but alive nonetheless. Every now and then, she would push him forward and curse him under her breath, as if just to remind him that she was angry with him. Sinjin tried not to care since he'd done what he thought was right, but her persistent anger wore on him, and if she pushed him one more time, he was certain he'd snap.
Two burly men walked in front of him, and he would not want to stumble into either of them. They didn't appear in any way friendly, and they were already struggling under the weight of something Sinjin couldn't quite make out. By the sounds of their grunts and whining, it was heavy. The men who came behind were even more frightening. They spoke in low, deep tones that seemed almost like growls to Sinjin.
One of the men was among the tallest Sinjin had ever seen and lanky as a rail. The other was shorter, stockier, and had a face made for scaring children. It was this man who directed the others, and it was this man Sinjin knew he'd have to watch. Kendra pushed him from behind, and he would've said something, except this time he knew he had slowed down and was in her way. Still, he didn't appreciate some of the things said under her breath.
"Once the deception is cast," the ugly man grunted, "we'll need to move quickly if we're to catch the full moon."
"Shouldn't we just go there now?" the tall man asked.
"No," the ugly man said. "We can go down, but we cannot move beyond the outwardly visible extents of Ohmahold until the deception is complete. And since I don't know exactly where that line is, we're going to stay close to the heart of the hold."
Sinjin did not know what deception they spoke of, but he certainly didn't like the sound of it. From his position, he caught only bits and pieces of the conversation, and he hoped that Kendra was able to catch more of the important details, if she could hear anything over her own curses. Though impressed with her vocabulary, Sinjin hoped she would run out of hurtful things to say about him sometime soon.
After what felt like ages, they reached the bottom of the winding stair, and new torches were lit before they continued into the waiting darkness. Sinjin had heard stories about the tunnels and mines beneath Ohmahold, and the ugly man's comment about the full moon sparked a memory from the tale of his mother's escape from this very place by swimming through daggerfish-infested waters. Sinjin didn't even want to think about it.
"This place will do," the ugly man said, and the two men in front of Sinjin seemed greatly relieved. Immediately they lowered their burden to the floor. It made a muffled clinking sound like a coat of mail, only it appeared to be covered in thick fabric.
Kendra bumped into Sinjin, and he nearly snapped at her, but she spoke under her breath, "Get ready to run." She spoke the words as if they were a curse, and none of the men reacted, seeming engrossed in their own thoughts.
Sinjin had no chance to respond since Kendra did her best to whirl and attacked the men behind her. Limited by the shackles, she was able only to stomp on one man's toes, though she did manage to smash her chains into the other's face.
For a brief instant, Sinjin stood, stunned. He knew he really should run this time. These men would not kill Kendra; he was certain of it. This might be his last chance to escape. Again his mind flashed to the story of his mother and the daggerfish. Pushing back his fear, Sinjin lunged for the guards in front of him, even as they were turning around. Grunts and cries echoed in the tight halls, and Sinjin feared Kendra might convince these men to kill her after all. Sinjin borrowed Kendra's move and stomped on the toes of the guards. One went down in agony, but the other just grinned and looked down at his reinforced boots.
"My mother made me these," the man said just before he wrapped his arms around Sinjin in a bear hug and squeezed.
There was nothing Sinjin could do, he was trapped and could barely move. Kendra still struggled behind him, shaming him, taking on two men when a single man had incapacitated him. It was as humiliating as it was terrifying.
"Can you do nothing right?" she growled at him when she could struggle no more.
Sinjin never got the chance to respond.
"If your mother doesn't kill you, I might," the ugly man said.
Kendra spit at him, but then the sound of gongs filled the hold and filtered down even to the dark tunnel in which they stood. Then there came thunderous booms and the cries of dragons. It sounded as if an army had descended upon Ohmahold--an army or his parents, Sinjin realized. The thought made him feel physically ill. No matter how powerful his parents were, he did not want them to be in danger, especially not because of him. Guilt began to eat at him. If he hadn't allowed himself to be captured, none of this would be happening. His thoughts were cut short when the tall man turned to him with an almost apologetic look in his eyes.
"Now?" he asked the ugly man, who nodded.
"Sorry, kid," was all the tall man said before he punched Sinjin in the face, hard.
Sinjin fell back against the cavern wall and hadn't recovered from the first punch when the second came.
"Stop!" Kendra shouted. "What are you doing? Stop!"
Sinjin wasn't sure who was hitting him, but every new strike dazed him and kept him from properly defending himself. The shackles and chains weighed on him, and he fell to his knees, where a mighty kick drove the wind from his chest and made his ribs hurt terribly.
"You're killing him!" Kendra shrieked. Then she sobbed, "Please stop. Please don't kill him."
Sinjin heard no more as a hand closed over his mouth and nose; he felt a heavy weight, and darkness settled upon him.
* * *
When the pain stopped, Catrin's heart nearly stopped with it. Sinjin was gone. She could no longer sense his presence. Prios stiffened behind her, his grip on her shoulders too tight. Kyrien wept.
Pain no longer registered in Catrin's mind; rage and grief and anguish welled up in her like groundswell and burst forth in the form of words and power--raw, unrestrained, focused, and potent. Catrin's rage found an environment rich with targets, and she attacked
with unmitigated fury, sweeping the landscape clean of demons, giants, soldiers, and their monstrous weapons. The dragons must have sensed the change as well as they retreated to the clouds.
Thorakis was not within Ohmahold. Sinjin was no longer within Ohmahold; at least his spirit was no longer there. There was nothing holding them there except anger. And one of the first lessons her father had taught her was that intellect trumped anger. If you were going to fight back, fight back smart and on your terms.
"Let them retreat," Catrin said. "Our battle is no longer here. My son is dead." She choked on the words. "Our son is dead."
Prios wrapped his arms around her, and Kyrien turned for one more pass at the battlefield, taking out his anger on anything that still moved. Catrin made certain that all of the ballistae and catapults were destroyed, and she set fire to supply wagons that had congregated not far from the entrance to Ohmahold.
Then the mighty keep was behind them. A beautiful landscape swept beneath them, seen from a vantage few others would ever experience. Sinjin would never see it. Always Catrin's thoughts returned to Sinjin. If she didn't find something else to focus on, she thought she might explode. Only when she turned to look at Prios did she realize the extent of his wounds. Livid burns covered much of his body, and his clothing was charred. One arm hung limply by his side, and the other he used to staunch the bleeding from a shoulder wound.
Catrin laid her hands on him as gently as she could, and still he flinched at the contact, at the movement of his clothes, at the breath of the wind. Channeling her emotions and needs into singular focus, Catrin fed energy to Prios's spirit. His breathing slowed and became more regular, and though he looked no better on the outside, he let out a deep sigh and slept.
When Catrin ran her eyes over Kyrien, she found him not much better. Kyrien's hide was blistered and blasted away in places, and there were deep gouges in his wing membranes.
I can still fly. I can still fight. I will do so until those responsible are dead.
Those words contained as much vitriol as Catrin had ever heard from Kyrien, and the sound of it frightened her.
We will avenge my kind, and we will avenge your son.
Catrin's loss somehow seemed smaller in the face of that statement--no less painful but smaller. She could not even imagine the extent of Kyrien's pain, though it was clear that he did not begrudge her pain. He made no comparison between the extents of their losses; he simply wanted vengeance for what was lost, for what had been forcibly and intentionally taken from them.
Ignoring his bravado, Catrin drew deeply from the saddle and lent that energy to Kyrien's spirit. She had half expected him to balk, but he received the healing with good grace, and for that Catrin was grateful. Ahead of them, the skies darkened, a storm cloud crowding the horizon. Kyrien flew straight toward it.
* * *
"The Herald is coming, m'lord," Grimwell said, unable to keep the tremor from his voice.
"Good," Thorakis said in a long breath, his eyes distant.
"The men are in place, awaiting your word."
Thorakis looked as if he would speak, his focus suddenly returning, but a black-scaled tail coiled around the base of the basalt throne. This throne was new. The dragons had brought it from where only the gods knew, and ever since, Thorakis had been more and more difficult to reach. The time had come for Grimwell to leave; there was nothing more he could do. His master was lost, and everything they had built was about to come down around them. Seethe was the one truly in control here, Grimwell thought, and that evil beast cared not a whit about what happened to Thorakis or any other human.
"The Herald will be angry," Thorakis said, looking semilucid. "She will come for revenge. She and her tongueless husband will want me to pay. This time there will be no caution, no restraint, and they'll do exactly as I want them to."
"Yes, m'lord," Grimwell said, not knowing what else to say. He felt as if his time were rapidly slipping away. The smell of feral dragons filled his nostrils, and he nearly choked. Not far away, the abominations watched. Grimwell could still not believe such things existed, yet they stood, watching him, as if they knew his treasonous thoughts. Swallowing hard, Grimwell tried to pay attention to what Thorakis was saying.
"The men at the bell are ready?"
"Yes, m'lord," Grimwell said hurriedly. "Good men, all of them. I chose them myself."
Thorakis nodded, looking only half satisfied with the response. "And what of the second phase of our plan, wizard? Have the riders been sent?"
"They have, m'lord." And may the gods have mercy on the people of the Greatland, Grimwell thought. May they have the wisdom to accept defeat before they are destroyed. Though many of the people had treated him as if he were the enemy, Grimwell did not wish all the peoples of the Greatland dead. Yet he'd sent the riders; he'd given the orders. How could he claim anything but responsibility? Again, he hoped the people chose to surrender to the might of the greater force. Perhaps then they would have a chance.
Grimwell had seen the men who bathed in ash, and he knew they outnumbered the conscripted men from the Greatland in Thorakis's armies. For even those conscripted men from the Greatland, Grimwell felt a hint of compassion. They had done only what they thought was best for their people and their families, just as he had. They had been wrong. It would've been better to have starved, but it was too late now. That was the thought that rang most loudly in Grimwell's mind. It was too late.
Chapter 14
Words of disparagement often drown out the sound of praise.
--Master Jarvis, teacher
* * *
The mists of morning hung over the land, blanketing it in white. Hills, houses, and barns poked from the mists, and Kyrien flew down low, weaving between any obstacles that protruded from the fog. Looking behind her, Catrin saw that Prios still slept. It was a blessing since she knew how great his pain must be. Kyrien was awake and alert, and Catrin could sense his pain as well. It mixed with her own and left Catrin's thoughts in a red haze. None of them was in fighting condition, yet none of them would be turned away from this fight.
Nothing was more important to Catrin than finding Thorakis at the earliest possible moment and putting an end to him. Only then would she be able to stop and properly grieve the loss of her son, her home, and the regent dragons. Even the thought of processing so much grief nearly overwhelmed her, and she forced the feelings back down into her gut, all the while knowing she would pay the price later. For that moment, all she wanted was justice. In truth, she knew what she really wanted was revenge, but calling it justice made her feel better.
Before, she'd always found some way to forgive those who'd hurt her, even those who'd taken her mother's life, but what Thorakis and his black army were doing was beyond her ability to forgive. It shamed her, yet she also drew strength from it. Human and fallible, she was no goddess or deity, no matter what power she possessed. In many ways, she was still just a frightened little girl, but not at that moment; fury made her strong.
Kyrien stayed low to the ground, and shouts rose up from around them as they passed. Behind them the mist swirled and parted before slowly drifting back in to cover their path. The land rose up before them, an irregular and angled peak jutting from the mists. The saddle creaked as Kyrien followed the contour higher and higher. More cries echoed from behind them as they could be easily seen against the side of the mountain.
As soon as they crested the peak, Catrin felt her skin crawl; before them lay a sight that inflamed her blood. Dark soldiers, demons, giants, and what looked like normal soldiers clogged the landscape like a black infection. More of the monstrous weapons had been erected here, only these were of a different sort. Catrin was trying to understand the nature of them when a haunting sound cut the air. Ringing a discordant note, what sounded like a giant fire bell rang out in a measured beat. It made Catrin's teeth hurt. Prios stirred behind her, and his grunts made it clear that his pain was as great as she had expected. She wanted to soothe him, but t
here was no time. Darkness seemed to spring from everywhere at once.
Dragons dropped from the ubiquitous clouds above. Only a brief stirring of the gray mists served as warning before angry ferals burst from within. The clouds roiled in the aftermath, and the air around them was filled with wings, teeth, and claws. Despite his condition, Prios launched attacks of lightning, fire, and air, though it seemed with little thought or aim. There were so many of the ferals that his attacks struck nonetheless, and Catrin did her best to match his intensity. Her chest swelled with pride at the strength of her husband, and tears refused to remain within her. A price must be paid for their son's death, and the time had come to exact that price. There was no room for restraint or forethought. This was the time to act.
What leaped from her fingers was unlike anything she'd ever experienced. Black flames tipped with orange and blue reeked of her darkest feelings, things she did not want to admit existed within her, yet it poured from her like poison from a festering wound. Only then did she realize she was screaming, and she could feel the satisfying resistance when her attacks struck prey.
Even with her and Prios attacking and Kyrien doing his best to evade incoming attacks, there were too many ferals to avoid. The beasts took advantage of every opening, and Catrin just barely avoided being impaled on a gleaming black claw; Prios was not as fortunate. There came a terrible sound from behind Catrin, a sound she hoped never to hear again, especially from her husband. She wanted to turn and see how badly he was hurt, to lend him energy and heal him as best she could, but there was no time.
Weapons Catrin had seen, and an even larger number that she had not seen, sprang to life and delivered their deadly charges. Some hurled clusters of sharpened saplings that fanned out and filled the air. Others spit fire. Still others hurled smoking clay pots shaped like teardrops. When these struck, they sent flaming pitch in a wide radius. Again, Prios and Kyrien were burned, and this time Catrin knew their pain as she was unable to escape the grip of the sticking pitch, which refused to be put out. Still burning, Catrin cast a spherical barrier around them. It would not keep out the dragons and probably would not deflect projectiles, but it would hold air. Drawing the remaining air within into her palm, she effectively created a vacuum. The flames died immediately, and Catrin's ears popped. Releasing the barrier, the air rushed back in to fill the void with a clap, and Catrin felt as if she were within a giant bell. Her head felt as if it might explode, and she reconsidered the wisdom of that tactic. But it had, at least, put out the flames.
The Balance of Power (Godsland Series: Books Four, Five, and Six) Page 41