The Dragon Writers Collection

by DragonWritersCollective

  When Osbourne went into spasm and coughed, Catrin let out her breath, only then realizing she had been holding it. The boy was wracked with violent fits of coughing, which left him gasping, and each new breath tickled his throat, causing him to cough harder. Only wheezing and vomiting separated his fits, but he was breathing.

  Chase had stings on his neck and arms, but the swelling was minor. Strom had been behind them and was untouched by the angry mass of hornets that had pursued the others. With Osbourne out of immediate danger, Benjin mixed a large batch of sting remedy from several of his powders and some clean water. When he looked up from his work, Catrin saw that his bottom lip had been stung several times and was twice its normal size. She realized then how painful it must have been for him to blow into Osbourne's mouth, and she marveled at his strength.

  Osbourne's breathing gradually eased, but his eyes remained shut. Benjin told him to take shallow breaths until the tickle left his throat and leaned him against a tree. In time, the herbs took effect. His body relaxed, and though the swelling was not gone, it no longer seemed to be getting worse.

  Benjin prepared another mixture, which he said would help with the swelling, but they would have to swallow it. It was bitter and left a vile aftertaste. Osbourne drank the mixture diluted with water, but he choked on it and suffered another coughing fit.

  Benjin's lip grew huge, but he kept working despite his obvious discomfort. When he checked their packs, he sighed. The others watched as he removed the smoked and salted goods that had gotten wet, and the pile of food he discarded was distressing to see after the work they had put into preparing it. They sat for a while and watched Osbourne recover. He seemed to be having less trouble breathing, but his eyes were still shut. Catrin wanted to make for higher ground before they camped for the night, and she was trying to decide what to do when Benjin drew her aside.

  "I don't think Osbourne should walk any farther today. I should go ahead and scout out a suitable campsite while the rest of you wait here. You all can rig a litter and attend to Osbourne's needs while I'm gone. Agreed?" She nodded. "Good." He got his bow and a quiver of arrows, set off at a rapid pace, and was soon lost from sight.

  Chase and Strom found saplings, while Catrin unpacked her leather ground cloth and made a hole near each corner and several more along each side. She took a length of rope and unbraided it so she would have the six smaller lines she needed. She then lashed the ground cloth to the saplings to form a litter for Osbourne.

  "Sorry I took so long," Benjin said when he returned. "I found a decent campsite and a fairly clear path there." After lifting Osbourne gently onto the litter, trying not to aggravate any of his injuries, they set off at a steady pace. Benjin and Catrin pushed bushes and saplings aside in narrow places, allowing room for the stretcher Chase and Strom were carrying.

  The land finally began to slope upward, and Benjin led them to the top of a hill shaded by an enormous tree. Under the tree waited a pile of firewood, pears, and a brace of rabbits, which explained why Benjin had been so long in returning.

  Catrin removed her ground cloth from the makeshift litter while Strom lit a fire and Benjin dressed the rabbits. They made soup for Osbourne because he was quite ill and might not tolerate solid food. The campsite was a good choice: the area shaded by the tree was soft and covered with spongy moss, making it far more comfortable than rough ground.

  Strom, the only one unscathed by the attack of hornets, looked around the fire and shook his head. Benjin had a very fat lip, Catrin's eye was swollen nearly shut, Chase had large lumps on the back of his neck, and Osbourne was puffed up as if he were filled with water.

  "You're a sorry-looking group, I have to tell ya," he said, grinning, but within moments he began to shift where he sat. He grumbled as he stood and vigorously scratched the seat of his pants, apparently wishing he'd been more careful selecting leaves after relieving himself. Benjin shook his head and retrieved his ever-diminishing supply of herbs. He made a suitable mixture, poured it into Strom's hand, and gave him a water flask.

  "You'll have to apply that yourself, m'friend," he said, casting him a sidelong glance. "You're on your own."

  * * *

  Master Jarvis hurried along the inner corridors, his mouth and nose still covered with a scented kerchief to mask the smell. No one was immune to the effects of the siege, though he no longer even considered this a siege; it was more like containment. The Zjhon were not trying to get in anymore, they just didn't want anyone to get out. Master Jarvis could not decide which was worse.

  The thought of Catrin in the hands of the Zjhon nearly made him sick; he'd taught her since she was a little girl, and she'd always been one of his favored students. The only thing that sickened him more was the thought of what Master Edling was trying to achieve. Some would say that Jarvis was seeing things that were not there, but he knew better; he'd known Edling for too long. Master Grodin had been swayed into moving the refugees into the audience halls based on the premise that the people would feel more secure surrounded by their peers than if kept apart. It was a ruse, and Jarvis knew it. Though some people had expressed feelings of loneliness and a sense of being disconnected, he doubted any of them would consider being crammed into the audience halls an improvement. The fact that one of the special release bars used to trigger the cave-in mechanism was missing only solidified the reality in Master Jarvis's mind.

  When he finally reached Master Grodin's quarters, he was pleased to see the old man awake and alone. "May I trouble you?"

  "Who's there? Is that you, young Jarvis?" Master Grodin asked. "There are some candied cherries in the dish there. Help yourself. I know how you like them. Then run along and be a good boy."

  "Thank you, sir," Master Jarvis said, knowing that sometimes Master Grodin seemed to drift into the past, remembering a time when Jarvis was but a student of his. "The refugees have been moved into the audience halls."

  "Yes, I know. They can all be together with their family and friends now. I wish I could do more for them. Maybe you could take them some candied cherries?"

  "Perhaps I will," Master Jarvis said. "I'm concerned about Master Edling's motivation. I suspect he had another reason for wanting the people moved."

  "You and Edling must end this rivalry between you," Master Grodin said as he wagged his finger. "Wasn't it just last week I caught the two of you fighting in the store room?"

  In truth, that had been nearly thirty years ago, but Jarvis knew better than to tell Master Grodin he was mistaken; instead he tried to nudge his aging mentor back into the present. "I'd feel more comfortable with the refugees in the audience halls if all of the cave-in release keys were accounted for. One is missing."

  Master Grodin turned sharply and chewed on his beard a moment before he responded. "I suppose that leaves me only one course of action," he said, his eyes clearer than Jarvis had seen them in some time. "Since Edling feels compelled to represent the refugees, then that is how it shall be. Let it be known that he and his must remain in the audience halls at all times, so that he can personally ensure the safety and well-being of his charges."

  Jarvis left with a smile on his face, wondering how much of Master Grodin's condition was an act, and how much was the guise of a clever old man.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The bitter taste of betrayal can be purged only by fire.

  --Imeteri, slave

  * * *

  The next few days were long and miserable while they waited at the campsite to heal, taking time when they could to gather supplies. They were not in very good shape for hunting, so they settled for gathering fruits and nuts.

  The weather was clear and warm, and light breezes carried the many scents of summer. The comet was no longer visible in the night sky, and no new comets showed themselves. Catrin wondered if it had all been just a cosmic joke, the first comet really being the only comet. She could still feel a charge in the air, but she wondered if it was just a lingering effect from the first comet.

&
nbsp; "Do you think there'll be more comets?" she asked Benjin.

  "Can't be certain, but I assume so. Legends say thousands of them crowd the night skies during the Istran Noon, which should occur some seventy-five years from now. I'm guessing we'll see a gradual increase over time."

  They had seen no further signs of soldiers, for which they were grateful, but the fact seemed to disturb Benjin. He was nervous, edgy, and constantly looking for signs of the Zjhon.

  "I know there're more soldiers following us. I'm almost certain the man who died in the marsh wasn't alone, but I can't understand why they don't attack. They're more heavily armed than we are, and they have to know that. They know where we are, and they've had time to bring a larger force here," he said.

  "They may be heavily armed, but I bet none of them has ever changed the course of a river or knocked down the side of a mountain like I saw Catrin do," Strom said. His words sounded strange to Catrin--like something from a fireside story.

  "But they knew they were coming here to face the Herald," Benjin replied. "They must have known she would have great power. I don't think they're totally reacting out of fear, although I do agree they have good reason to be cautious. I still think they must have some other reason for following us but not attacking."

  "Perhaps they are bringing more troops here to confront us," Chase said. "Maybe the terrain has just delayed them. We should remain watchful."

  "Maybe they don't need to attack us now because they already know where we're going," Osbourne observed. "They're probably just waiting for us to walk into an ambush."

  Benjin nodded and hesitated before he said, "You may be right, but I'm not sure. They may have other plans for us. Still, we'll need to be alert for signs of either ambush or pursuit."

  * * *

  Catrin spent a long day looking for fruits, nuts, and the herbs and spices they needed to replenish Benjin's medicinal supplies. When she returned to camp, her companions seemed to be better, a great relief after days of misery. There was a strange look in their eyes as she approached.

  Strom stared at her so intently that she finally couldn't stand it any longer. "What are you looking at?" she asked Strom more sharply than she'd intended.

  "I'm looking at your necklace, Cat. It didn't look like that when you first showed it to us. It was all milky and dull, and now it's . . ."

  Chase finished the sentence for him. "It's just beautiful."

  Catrin lifted the leather thong over her head and examined the carving, amazed by what she saw. The carved fish was now clear and almost lustrous. It caught the light and sent small prisms dancing around her. She ran her finger across it and found the surface smooth where it had seemed rough and porous before. Trying to find a reasonable explanation for the transformation of the small carving, she wondered if it had just been dirty and in need of cleaning. She tried to remember exactly how it had looked when she had first found it. It had seemed almost as if it were dried out rather than dirty.

  "Maybe your swim cleaned it off," Chase said, which made better sense than anything else she had come up with, but Catrin wasn't so sure. She tried to put it from her mind, but in its place came anxious thoughts of Istra.

  Somehow, the light of a comet, or a goddess--depending on how she chose to perceive it--gave Catrin access to powers of which she had no knowledge or aptitude. Through some unknown process, she knew she could gather the comet's energy and release it in devastating ways, but she didn't know how to control it. Only when her life was in danger did she even seem to have full access to it; most of the time it was a distant dream, tickling her senses then receding too fast to pursue.

  She needed to know how to use the energy without hurting anyone. If she did not learn to control her outbursts, it might kill her and everyone around her. It was an uncomfortable feeling, and it put Catrin on edge. Her mind whirled with questions and only a handful of answers, and those answers only spawned more questions.

  Trying to her calm herself, she sat down and closed her eyes. Fears and anxieties cluttered her mind and prevented coherent thought.

  "Are you all right, li'l miss?" Benjin asked.

  "I have too many thoughts in my head to concentrate on anything because other thoughts keep pushing themselves into my mind. It's frustrating, and I don't like it at all."

  "I understand," he said with a slight nod of his head. "Let me try to help. There are many techniques you can use to quiet your mind and get a clearer view. Would you like me to teach you some of what I know?"

  "Yes, please. Would you?"

  Benjin told them to all sit in a circle around the fire, directing Catrin to sit directly across from him. Sitting with his legs crossed and his arms relaxed, he put his hands on his knees, palms facing up. The others followed his example.

  "Close your eyes and concentrate on slow, steady breaths to the count of seven. Breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth. Keep your eyes closed, and relax your muscles," he said, watching them. "You need to relax a bit more, li'l miss; you're as rigid as stone. On every exhale, concentrate on your muscles becoming looser."

  Catrin tried to calm herself, but the harder she tried, the more tense she became, and she grew angry with herself for not being able even to relax properly. How could she ever hope to control her power if she could not even control her own state of mind? Realizing her fists were tightly clenched, she opened her eyes with a frustrated sigh. The others still had their eyes closed and looked relaxed. Benjin's eyes met hers.

  "Perhaps we should try another technique that can be useful when your mind refuses to be quiet. When our heads are full of thoughts, it can be nearly impossible to suppress them. It's often better to deal with each thought individually as they come to you. Not all of them are pleasant, but we have to learn to accept them; they are a part of us. We should deal with them and try to understand them, but at the very least, we should accept them.

  "I want to teach you an ancient exercise. First, close your eyes and begin your breathing again. When a thought comes to you, grab on to it and accept it. Recognize it as your own, and try to understand why you are thinking it. Picture it as a small ball of energy; hold your hands out and cup that energy in your palms. Examine the energy and analyze it until you come to know it. When you are comfortable thinking about it, take a deep breath, and when you exhale, release that energy into the universe.

  "Your thoughts are your own, but your pain and suffering can be eased when you let the universe help, and your joy and happiness can be shared with the whole of existence. Your hope can go to every part of creation. By sending out your thoughts, you will feel less alone with your feelings. You can help others find their happiness, and you will receive help dealing with your troubles."

  Catrin was surprised by his philosophical words; she had never heard him speak that way, even in his previous lessons about meditation. She tried to concentrate on taking his advice rather than analyzing it, but concentrating was a challenge. Breathing deeply, searching for calm within the violent storm of her thoughts and emotions, she became detached from the world, transported to a place of her own making that was comforting yet unfamiliar. Letting the thoughts swirl around her for a moment, she tried to find her center and braced herself for the onslaught.

  A feeling of anger and betrayal flashed into her consciousness: it was hot and painful, and further images of anguish and pain came to the fore. She remembered the townies' abuse of her and her friends; visions of the attack on Osbourne played through her mind. Then her dreamlike vision moved on to another scene: the townspeople challenging her father and accusing her of being a witch. Images of the invading army hammered her until she almost lost her focus.

  After a deep breath, she accepted the anger that was part of her. Releasing the thought as she exhaled, she blew it away from her.

  While floating between thoughts for a moment, she was surprised by the lull in the maelstrom of her consciousness. She felt a great release from the thoughts she had accepted; she chose to per
sist, believing she was ready for her next thought. It did not take long before it drifted in from somewhere in the back of her mind. This was a warm, comforting image, however, and it felt secure and safe. She realized that thought was Benjin.

  She envisioned him with his salt-and-pepper beard, his long black hair with streaks of gray pulled back with a leather thong. She saw his strong features and muscular build. Pouring herself into the meditation, she concentrated on that thought, building it up for a huge release. She felt great gratitude to Benjin for protecting her, for being her friend and mentor, and for caring so much for her. She let the thought expand to include all those around her then to all those she had left behind. To all who had ever been kind to her, she sent out this thought as a gift of thanks. With her next exhale, she let it pour from her.

  Catrin floated blissfully above her consciousness, having experienced a massive, gratifying, and unexplainably beautiful release of tension.

  "Your minds have become very quiet now," Benjin said in a low and rhythmic voice, hardly more than a whisper. "Focus your consciousness. I want you to picture a strawberry. Focus on the details rather than the whole. Envision the colors and textures; picture the seeds and leaves until every detail is complete."

  Catrin heard his words somewhere in her mind, and she tried to comply. She began to visualize the strawberry, and soon she tasted the sweetness of the freshly picked fruit, strawberry jam, and strawberry-rhubarb pie. All her memories of strawberries permeated the thought, but she was brought out of her meditation by the sound of Chase laughing and talking excitedly.

  "That was great, I'm telling ya. I could actually taste strawberries."

  "And strawberry jam," Osbourne added.

  "I tasted pie," Strom said with a grin.

  "Hey, Cat. Do you remember the time you tried to shove strawberries up my nose?" Chase asked, and Catrin laughed; she'd been thinking about the same thing.