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

by Rathbone, Brian

  It was obvious that the fleeing ship would be consumed by the approaching darkness, and Allette regretfully let go of the hope she might escape this place by ship. Thundegar had done his best. Somehow he'd managed to get them to this harbor, and he could not have known that the dark ships would converge on that very place. She'd known of such ships, she'd even seen one or two from a distance. Anyone with good sense wanted nothing to do with those aboard the black ships. Shivering at the memory, Allette knew the evil that approached, and she knew their only choice was to flee.

  "We must get back inland now," Thundegar barked, and Allette retreated without answering. Rastas slunk along beside her, his belly nearly rubbing the ground.

  The three moved with speed born of terror, and only when a massive shadow passed over them did they stop. Twice more the shadow raced over the foliage, and Allette felt like a mouse hiding from a circling hawk. A feral dragon was up there, watching her, just biding its time before plucking her from where she hid. The urge to run was nearly undeniable; every part of her wanted to run, to get out of the gaze of this predator, but somehow she maintained the will to resist. Only when Thundegar stood from his huddled crouch did Allette even breathe. Never before had she felt such raw terror. Truly the magic of the dragons was all that she had heard, and she hoped never to see one again. She hoped it again for good measure. Then they were off, trying to get as far out in front of the approaching armies as possible. Allette guessed they had only a few hours before many of those ships landed, and she knew her guess was a pretty good one.

  Rastas breathed hard beside her, and he often stopped, only to catch up through a burst of speed a moment later. Allette, on the other hand, tried to find her stride, strong and consistent. Thundegar matched her pace, but his breathing was labored, and she worried for him. Sweat poured from both of them, and the landscape took on an otherworldly hue. Allette knew that a normal person would have already succumbed, but somehow she persisted. Even more, the old man nearly matched her pace. They were beyond what Allette would have thought the limits of her own endurance, and it made her feel good. Inside of her that knowledge built, and she moved faster. Purpose fueled the fire, and soon she was outpacing Thundegar, and even Rastas was having trouble keeping up. What was that she saw in the old man's eyes, she wondered. Doubt?

  Slowing, Allette initiated a break. This was something Thundegar had always done, but he said nothing at first. "You're strong," he said after catching his breath.

  Allette wasn't sure how he could have taken so long to come to that conclusion; she had, after all, carried that canoe across the desert. But then she considered the fact that he meant something entirely different. That thought frightened her, and she turned away, not wanting to continue that line of conversation. Thundegar took the hint and saved his energy. They were going to need it.

  * * *

  Feeling like something heavy was sitting on his head, Sinjin reached up slowly and touched the puffy skin around his jaw. He sucked air between his teeth in response to the pain and hoped it would go away quickly. Looking around, he saw that he was in his cabin aboard the Dragon's Wing. Next, he realized he wasn't alone. Durin was curled up on the floor, fast asleep. The ship didn't creak and groan as Thorakis's ships had; she barely made a sound, which made Durin's snores stand out even more than they otherwise would have.

  Unable to get back to sleep, Sinjin was driven by curiosity. The last thing he remembered was someone ducking under a punch. That must have been it, he realized through the pain in his head. It must have been a spectacular punch. Climbing down from his bunk, Sinjin did what he could to keep from waking Durin, but it was impossible. The cabins were small to begin with, and there were simply not enough places for Sinjin to put his feet.

  "What are you doing?" Durin finally asked, his voice sounding grumpy and tired.

  "I wanted to know what happened, so I was trying to get past you without waking you."

  "Nice job you did of it," Durin said. "The Arghast beat each other up until only thirty-five remained, and then we left. You got punched in the face, so you got to avoid all the work of loading supplies and preparing the ship. Happy? Can I go back to sleep now? I worked all day."

  "I'm going to take a walk out on deck."

  "I wouldn't if I were you," Durin said. "There're too many people on this ship, and everyone onboard is in a mood. If I were you, I'd stay right where you are. Trust me."

  Sinjin should have taken his friend's word for it, but still he knew he would not be able to get back to sleep until he understood more of the details of their current situation. Losing the precious hours he'd been unconscious made him feel as if he were no longer in control, not that he felt as if he were in control most of the time. Still, this was worse than usual, and he found himself disoriented; it was as if he'd been knocked from one world and had woken up in another.

  "How's your face?" Benjin asked when he saw Sinjin emerge onto the overcrowded deck.

  "It aches," Sinjin said, "but it'll be all right. How big was the guy who hit me?"

  "As tall as a barn, and nearly as wide," Benjin said with a grin.

  "That sounds about right," Sinjin said. "The Arghast who were left behind?"

  "A dispirited group, for certain, but we left behind plenty of help to get the ships constructed, trialed, and sailed. The rest will be along when they can. We've more Arghast on board than there are dragon eggs, so Halmsa seems satisfied. Sometimes I wonder about that man's sanity, yet he keeps being proven correct. It's uncanny."

  Sinjin couldn't argue that point. Perhaps the things his mother had taught him about prophecies had been wrong. Perhaps Istra's power granted that gift to some, just as it had given his mother great power. And though she hadn't believed them at the time, hadn't even his mother's visions come to fruition? Still, it railed against most of what he'd been taught, and he couldn't convince himself it was true. In the end, he would help Halmsa whether the visions were real or not, and for that reason, he let it go.

  Walking to the stern involved pushing his way through a throng of amazed and terrified Arghast. All of them had spent their lives being told that someday some of them would fly, and here they were, soaring above the waves. In truth, Sinjin noted, they were more or less skimming along just above the water. The speed was still impressive, but Sinjin knew the strain on Gwen and Pelivor must be great. He'd caught a glimpse of the man; the silks had been pressed tightly to his skin and clung to him, moist with sweat. The air itself smelled of rain, and whitecaps appeared on the waves below.

  Gwen sat, as she always did, between the mighty wooden tubes. People were kept clear of the openings to the tubes, but Sinjin knew he could approach Gwen by staying between them. When he drew near, she looked up with a tired smile.

  "How are you faring?" Sinjin asked.

  "Not as well as I would like," she admitted. It was a rare moment, and Sinjin recognized it. "It looks like the same holds true for you. Does your jaw hurt?"

  "Yeah," Sinjin said. "Is it the weight of all the people onboard that's giving you trouble?"

  "Yes," Gwen said. "Pelivor is having trouble maintaining altitude. He could get us higher than we are, but he's afraid he'll drop us, so it's better to be closer to the waves."

  "And for you?"

  "It's more difficult than when we only have fifteen or twenty people aboard. The harder I push, the harder it feels like the world is pushing back. I can keep us moving faster, but I'm not sure for how long. From what Brother Vaughn was saying, I don't think we're going to make it. Don't look at me like that; I'm not being pessimistic without good reason. We haven't been in the air all that long, and already I feel as if we've been flying for days."

  "I know you said you didn't want to accept Koe as a gift," Sinjin said, fingering the carving in his pocket, careful to avoid the sharp teeth, which had surprised him before by drawing blood.

  "No. I still won't accept it," Gwen said, defiant anger flaring in her eyes.

  "I don't want to gi
ve it to you," Sinjin said, taking a step back in the face of her seemingly unjustified rage. It was even clearer to him then that he would never understand the opposite sex. "I just want to lend it to you, not for your sake, but for Halmsa. Look at him; he knows we won't make it at this rate. And I'm completely useless, except perhaps for the fact that I have two of the most powerful objects on all of Godsland. I can't do a blessed thing with either of them, mind you, save maybe keep the dust off of them."

  Gwen was smiling now, though the look she gave him said that he'd already made his point and he was pushing his luck.

  "I'll want this back when we reach 'the place of dragons,'" Sinjin said, handing Koe to Gwen, keeping the cat's teeth facing his palm. He didn't want to scare her off. The carving could be far more intimidating than its size would imply.

  It was with a sense of reverence and awe that Gwen accepted the dragon ore carving from him. It felt strange, seeing it in her hands. Other than himself, his parents had been the only ones he'd ever seen touch the crystalline cat. After gazing at the cat with a sense of quiet disbelief and a hint of fear, Gwen didn't appear to have accessed the power within, but then she closed her eyes and leaned back her head. A glint of light flashed over the surface of the carving, and Gwen's eyes opened wide. She sucked in a deep breath that came back out as a shudder. When her eyes seemed to once again focus, Sinjin watched the concentration take over her face, and the whine of the tubes changed tone. The ship sailed higher from the additional force and Pelivor whistled.

  "What's going on back there?" Pelivor called out.

  "Just giving Gwen a little assistance," Sinjin shouted.

  By the look on Gwen's face, the speed still required a great deal of effort and concentration. Sinjin moved back toward his cabin, a smile on his face. He'd actually done something right; he knew it. And now he needed to do something else. The additional thrust would put even greater strain on Pelivor, and though he had Sinjin's mother's spider stone, Gwen had already said that he was having trouble.

  Waking Durin was inevitable, and his friend gave him a very unfriendly look. "If you weren't my best friend in the whole world, I'd punch you in the shin," Durin said from the floor of the cabin.

  "Take the bunk," Sinjin said. "I won't be back for a while. I have some things I need to do."

  "Don't rush back," Durin said as he crawled into the bunk, looking as if he'd be back to sleep as soon as his head hit the soft, goose-feather pillow.

  Grabbing his mother's staff, Sinjin stepped out of the cabin and closed the hatch. Holding the staff gave him a chill, just as touching Koe did, but for different reasons. Koe was entirely of Kyrien's and his mother's making. Kyrien had converted the noonstone into dragon ore--through what process Sinjin had no idea--and his mother had used her power to carve the otherwise immutable stone. The staff was another thing entirely; this was something that was thousands of years old and had been protected and cherished for generations. Yet it was attached to his mother in ways no one could deny. The grooves in the wood were evidence of her hand digging into the flesh of the staff when defeating a Statue of Terhilian. Then there were the almost indiscernible dimples in the surface of the wood where branches had sprouted and borne seed, seeds that replanted the Grove of the Elders.

  Even with such strong ties, Sinjin felt like a thief when he held the staff. It reminded him that his mother was gone and that he was grossly insufficient to carry on her legacy. Still, he did his best and made his way to the steerage, where Pelivor stood. Sinjin could see the beads of sweat on the man's brow and knew that the strain was great.

  "I'll not ask you to take this from me," Sinjin said when Pelivor's eyes landed on the staff. There was awe and fear there as well; that made Sinjin feel even more awkward and unworthy of such things. "All I ask is that you use the power this staff holds to get all of us to 'the place of dragons' before Halmsa's eggs start hatching. If not for him, then for me. I don't know what'll happen when those eggs hatch, but I'd rather not be in the air or at sea when we find out."

  Pelivor looked as if he would balk, and Sinjin drew a breath to speak before Pelivor could refuse. Before Sinjin could find the words, though, tears ran down Pelivor's face. The man flushed and Sinjin could not fathom the gamut of emotions he was feeling. After a deep breath, Pelivor met Sinjin's eyes with his own, which were puffy and red.

  "I loved your mother," Pelivor said suddenly, and the ship dipped. Everyone aboard gasped at the sudden drop, but Pelivor soon regained control.

  "As did I and most of those aboard."

  "No," Pelivor said. "It's not just that; I was in love with your mother."

  Now understanding what Pelivor meant, Sinjin tried to sort out how he felt. Was he flattered on behalf of his mother or jealous on behalf of his father? He found that he was neither. "She was easy to love," Sinjin said.

  Pelivor looked heartbroken, but then he smiled. "Yes. You're correct. She was, indeed, easy to love. Then you do not think me a cad?"

  "No," Sinjin said. "You were a good and loyal friend to her and my father. To be near my mother was to be affected by her. I could never blame anyone for being attracted to her light."

  "She shone brightly," Pelivor said.

  "As do you," Sinjin replied, "and these people need you. I can't say exactly why the dragons must be born on the Firstland, but I think that you and Gwen are the only people who can get us there in time. It's too much to ask, and I know it. This can help you, and it cannot help me otherwise. Please."

  Tears again filled Pelivor's eyes, but they did not fall, kept back by the force of his will. He smiled as if remembering Catrin, and he accepted the staff with silent reverence. Again, Sinjin watched to see how Pelivor would react to the power. Since he already had the spider stone, Sinjin guessed it would come as less of a shock. Wrapping his fingers around the staff, Pelivor was purposeful in his avoidance of the hand print Catrin had left on it.

  "You ready, kid?" Pelivor shouted.

  "Yeah, I'm ready," Gwen shouted in response.

  "Prepare for speed!" Pelivor shouted.

  "It's about time!" Millie called from the galley.

  The Arghast assembled on deck looked rightfully terrified, and even Benjin and Fasha looked more than a little uncertain as they battened down everything they could. What experienced crew was on board did what they could to supplement the effort, and Pelivor gave them time to complete their tasks. In the meantime, Sinjin noticed that their flight was a great deal more stable. Pelivor didn't seem to have drawn from the staff yet, but perhaps just having it within his grasp increased his confidence.

  After a nod from Fasha, Pelivor closed his eyes and breathed deeply. With the spider stone in one hand and the staff in the other, Pelivor exhaled. With his breath rushed the air, and light flared around Sinjin, causing him to shield his eyes. Lightning crawled over Pelivor's hands and over the staff, dancing and casting fluid shadows. The dragon ore stones mounted in the metal heel flared, and blue plasma pulsed in the shape of a serpent head, the stones serving as the creature's blazing eyes.

  Blue-white lines extended out from the mighty serpent on the staff and reached into the skies alongside them. Ropes of light reached forward to latch on to the masthead, which had been carved into a likeness of Kyrien. Suddenly Pelivor's wing structures, something previously only he and Gwen had been able to see, were now laced with fire, and those aboard murmured in fear, especially as the head and neck of the dragon filled in. Sinjin looked back and saw a glittering tail of energy that flowed around and over where Gwen sat. He worried briefly that she would be engulfed by the flow of power, but the energy was translucent and Sinjin could see the wide smile on her face. She was enjoying this!

  "By the gods," Pelivor said. "I've felt the power of the staff through contact with your mother, but to hold it in my own hands . . . I could never have imagined such might. When we reach the Firstland you must take it from me. Promise me."

  "I promise," Sinjin said, knowing it was a pledge he could only
keep if Pelivor truly wanted him to. As if to drive home that point, Pelivor applied his will, and the rigging sung with speed. With the wind in his face, Sinjin wondered at how much his life had changed and steeled himself for whatever might come next.

  The Dragon's Wing had never looked more like her namesake, and she left a glittering trail in her wake, as if a cloud of fireflies followed her.

  Chapter 13

  Imagination is not frivolous whimsy; it is the force that drives us to be better than we are.

  Enly Mandone, bard

  * * *

  Weeks aboard a cramped ship, no matter how fast it traveled, wore on passengers and crew alike. When a dark mass formed on the horizon, there was anticipation and anxiety in equal measure. All knew this was not their final destination, yet it was a glimpse at a foreign land, a land once occupied by their ancestors. Evidence of this was visible some time before the ship approached the Keys of Terhilian. There stood the inspiration for the statues of Terhilian, the Terhilian Lovers. Despite knowing you could not blame the creators of this massive artwork for inspiring devious weapons, the two were now synonymous. The statue of a god and goddess embracing, carved into massive bluffs, also served a practical purpose; it pointed to the Firstland, the place it was believed where mankind had first taken root. The figures did not match the traditional forms of Istra and Vestra, but it was clear these were god and goddess. Sinjin could not figure out why not knowing if the figures were meant to represent Istra and Vestra bothered him so much, but it did. Watching the massive carvings approach, they seemed to look down on him and find him wanting.