The Dawning of Power

Chapter 2

Oversight begets disaster. -Omar Zichter, architect

An unnatural mist obscured the landscape, green and yellow like a plague, but Catrin recognized her homeland nonetheless. How she had come to be back on the Godfist was lost to her. A part of her seemed to know that she dreamed, but that knowing was overshadowed by fear and foreboding.

Harborton appeared deserted. Not a soul could be found, no birds sang in the trees beyond, and even the leaves were still. As she neared the family farm, though, dark shapes milled about, distorted by the foul mist.

In the barnyard she found her father, Benjin, Uncle Jensen, and even Chase, though she wondered how he had found his way home. Everyone she cared about from her homeland was there, yet no one spoke or even seemed to notice her. Their faces were contorted into masks of fear and rage lit by a feral glow. As one, they moved toward the pasture from which the glow originated, and there, Catrin saw what drew them. The face of Istra stared up from the depths of a gaping wound in the land, and the glow became brighter with every step she took.

She tried to warn them, to tell them to run away, but her voice made no sound, no matter how loudly she tried to scream. Frustration set her soul ablaze as she fought to alert them of the danger, but they would not see-could not hear. Moving inexorably closer, they walked to their deaths, and Catrin was helpless, unable to stop them. Clawing her throat, trying to find her voice, she moved through the cloying mist. With an effort born of love and terror, her scream finally split the air, and every face turned toward her, but before she could warn them, the haze wrapped them in its fetid embrace.

In a flash of ill light, they were gone.

Gentle hands shook Catrin awake. Her eyes burned, and she wiped the sweat from her brow, her mouth tasting of blood.

"It's all right, li'l miss," Benjin said. "I'm here. It was just a dream."

Even in the bright morning light, she could not shake the visions from her mind, and she trembled as she stood. Sucking in a deep breath, she let the damp and salty air drive away the horrors of her dreams. Shading her eyes with her hand, she could see the eastern coast beneath the rising sun.

Prevailing winds continued to drive them, and she estimated they would reach land before noon. Samda brought her a mug of water laced with herbs. "This will help clear your mind," he said.

"Thank you," Catrin said, but she spilled the drink when she spotted a dark and menacing ship approaching. "There's a ship behind us."

"Looks like a mercenary ship," Benjin said, "and I doubt they're friendly. I don't think we can outrun them, even at full sail, but let's raise all we have. Maybe we can make it to shallow water before they catch us." He and Samda moved with purpose to get as much speed as they could. Catrin and the others secured themselves as speed drove the boat into the waves.

After tossing everything that was not precious or essential, the mercenary ship still gained on them, and Catrin knew it would overtake them well before they made land. Benjin and the others seemed to come to the same conclusion and prepared themselves to fight.

Catrin tried to decide what to do. She hadn't used her powers since the destruction of the statue, and she was terrified that they would no longer work or, worse yet, that they would unintentionally hurt those she loved. As her breathing became rapid, she tried to exert control over herself, and she drew deep, steady breaths. It was much like the first time she climbed back onto a horse after having been thrown. Tentatively, she reached for Istra's power. Like breathing, the act of opening herself to the energy felt natural, only, in this case, it felt as if she had spent most of her life holding her breath. The power came reluctantly at first, but then it surged, coming to her in a rush and nearly sweeping her away.

Something within her had changed. It was as if the power she'd felt before had been flowing through a pinhole, and now the dam had burst. With deliberate effort, she pulled herself away from the energy flow. It tempted her with its sweet caress, but she knew she could not give in to its lure or she would be lost. The sudden deprivation of power after such a heady flow made her dizzy, and she swayed where she sat.

As the mercenary ship drew closer, her crew gathered at the bow and hurled insults and jeers across the water. They promised death in a myriad of fashions, and though Catrin knew it was a tactic, she had difficulty avoiding its effects. Her mind invented visions of her death, and she began to sweat. Benjin and the others remained silent, conserving their energy, knowing they would need every reserve to survive.

"They're going to catch us, but they don't want to sink us. They want to rob us. All we have to do is keep them off of us long enough to get to the shallows," Benjin finally said into the silence. "Have no mercy, and don't hesitate. If they drop their guard, take full advantage."

Catrin trembled as the ship drew closer, almost within bow range. The shoreline was so close, she could almost feel the sand beneath her toes, but the water looked plenty deep almost all the way to the white beach, an underwater cliff dropping off into oblivion not far from shore.

Knowing she had to act, Catrin stood on trembling knees and braced herself against the mast. Her staff in hand, she tried to figure out what to do next.

"What are you doing?" Benjin asked. "Get back down. You'll make a good target up there."

"I have to stop them."

"But you aren't fully healed yet. It may not be safe…" He trailed off.

"I have to try," Catrin said as she closed her eyes and concentrated. In the past she had used her power to trigger much larger sources of potential energy, but now there was no storm to draw upon, no lightning to call. She would have to rely on Istra's energy alone to assault the ship.

Slowly she opened herself to the source, allowing only a trickle of energy to escape through the mental barrier she maintained between herself and the unmoderated flow of power. A plan began to form in her mind, and though the energy pounded on her barrier, she remained in control.

The air itself carried and conducted energy. As she expanded her senses beyond the bounds of her physical form, she found that she could see, smell, and taste the air around her. Heavy with moisture and teeming with static charge, it became like clay molded by ethereal hands. Pulling the air closer, Catrin gathered it in her cupped palms and packed a continuous flow into a sphere of energy. The air came to her easily, but putting it in the sphere and containing the pressure became increasingly difficult. Drawing more heavily on the energy flow, she reached into her staff and let its comforting energy bolster her.

When she opened her eyes, a translucent ball floated above her palm, its surface always shifting and changing. Raising her palm to her lips, she blew, and the ball of air floated toward the encroaching ship. The farther away it got, the more difficult it was to control and maintain. It was not quite over the bow of the other ship when she had to release it.

A sound like a thunderclap cleaved the air accompanied by a blast of icy wind. At first the mercenaries were stunned, but then arguments broke out. Catrin's attack had been mostly ineffective, but it had convinced some of the mercenaries that this prey was too dangerous to pursue. While they argued, though, the ship moved ever closer.

"Are you all right, li'l miss?"

"I'm fine," she said, putting more of her weight on the mast and trying to steady her quivering knees. "If they do not heed my warning, I'll attack."

Benjin shifted in his seat and looked torn, but he said nothing. The shadow of the mercenary ship was about to close over them, and Catrin drew a deep breath. Just as she began to open herself to the power, men appeared on the mercenary ship with bows. As one, five men drew and aimed at Catrin. In an instant, she drew deeply and let the power flow around her, still drawing more. Her body began to sway from side to side, her arms moving with the rhythm of the power. Arcs of energy trailed behind her staff as it moved, and her hair stood on end. The bowmen did not release, and their arms began to shake from the strain. Slowly, one by one, they lowered their bows.

A shrill cry echoed across the water, and two bodies were thrown over the side of the mercenary ship. Just as the ship moved close enough for the men above to make the jump, it veered away. Catrin released the flow and slumped to the belly of the boat. Though she hated to see anyone die, she had difficulty feeling compassion for the dead captain, and she hoped those who committed the mutiny would remember this day and change their ways.

Just as she began to relax, Millie drew a sharp intake of breath and Benjin cursed. Across the sands came two riders at a full gallop.

"We need to get back to deep water and find another place to land," Benjin said as an army wound its way down a nearby ridge. As the men worked, Catrin watched the riders approach. Wind caught the sails, and the boat began moving away. One of the riders stood in the stirrups and waved his arms, yelling. At first Catrin could not hear what he said, but then the wind shifted and his words drifted to her: "Catrin, wait!"

Benjin heard Chase's call as well, and he smiled broadly as he brought the boat about. Chase reined in his horse, jumped off, and waded to meet them. He looked different-older. The beginnings of a beard darkened his visage, and Catrin wasn't certain she liked it.

"You look awful," he said as the boat reached shore.

Catrin lowered herself to the sand. "Thanks. You're looking rough yourself. Have you considered shaving?"

"I like it and I'm keeping it."

Catrin laughed and her burdens felt lighter knowing Chase was safe. They walked from the water with their arms around each other. Benjin and Samda rigged the sails on the boat, and they pushed it back out to sea. "I don't want to leave any evidence that we landed here," Benjin said. "Greetings, Chase. You've done well. I look forward to hearing your tale."

"It can't be as good as yours," Chase said with a wink.

A woman with graying hair and eyes like ice stood nearby, holding the two horses. Lines around her eyes gave her a hawkish appearance. Despite all her power, Catrin could get no sense of what the woman was thinking or feeling; she was like a stone.

"Catrin, Benjin, this is Madra. She's the leader of the army you see," Chase said.

"This is the mighty Herald of Istra?" Madra asked. "From the tales I've heard, I expected someone as tall as a bear with eyes of fire."

"Tales are often exaggerated," Catrin responded.

Madra smiled then laughed. "I suppose they are."

Catrin introduced Samda, and she did her best to make him sound like a friend, but Madra and Chase both eyed him with anger and distrust.

Chase pulled Catrin aside while Benjin made the rest of the introductions. "What really happened?"

"To make it all very brief," she said, "I met a druid, who led us through the forests, but the forests caught fire, and then there was a flood. And then I caught a farmer's horse, and he gave us his cross-eyed ox. We sold the ox, and then Millie recognized me and took me to Ravenhold, where I met my grandmother. I can't even tell you the next part. You won't understand."

"Tell me."

"Do you promise not to hate me?"

"Tell me."

"I know who killed our mothers, and I agreed to marry one of their family."

"What?" he said, but their conversation was drawing attention.

"We should discuss this in a more secure location," Madra said. "Let's move inland and make camp."

"Take the other horse, Cat," Chase said. "You look like you could use a rest."

Despite her pride, Catrin did not have the energy to decline. She did, however, turn away his offer to give her a boost. She was not that weak.

Lines of soldiers snaked across the sand, and as they drew closer, Catrin saw that they were mostly old men, women, and children-only those the Zjhon armies had left behind. Madra rode ahead to find a suitable place to make camp, and Catrin let Chase lead her horse at a walk while she filled him in on the rest of the details.

"We nearly passed each other," Chase said. "If not for that thunderclap, I would never have known to look for you here. We were heading north, to Adderhold. After the statue exploded, I thought you might not be able to get to me, so I came looking for you."

"I'm grateful fate allowed you to find me. Tell me about Madra and her army. How did you come to travel with them?"

"Fasha brought me to Madra."

"You met Fasha?"

"Yes," Chase said. "She is among the most spirited and brightest people I've ever met. I hope to sail with her again someday. Brother Vaughn took me to the Vestrana in Endland, and they took me to Fasha. We sailed the Stealthy Shark to Faulk, but I knew something was wrong when the statue in the Westland exploded, and that's when Fasha took me to Madra. At that time, I don't think even Madra would have guessed that she would be leading an army, but after the statue exploded, the people had had enough. It was Madra who organized them and began the march to Adderhold. I joined them and came in search of you. There were fewer of us in the beginning, but everywhere we go, people join us. In every town it's the same: people are afraid when we arrive, but once we tell them what we are doing, they support us and many join our ranks. But now I don't know what to do. This is not our war, but I'm not sure I can abandon them."

"What does Madra want?" Catrin asked.

"Peace," Chase replied. "The problem is that none of us know how exactly to achieve it."

Catrin understood the problem, having faced the same dilemma herself, but she was no wiser than anyone else. "I wish I knew."

"There is something else I have to tell you. Fasha brought word from the Godfist. I'm sorry, Cat, but someone tried to kill your dad. He was still alive when Fasha left the Godfist, but no one could say if he would survive. Uncle Wendel is strong, though, and I know he still lives. I thought you should know."

Catrin rode in silence, terrified by the thought of someone trying to kill her father and frustrated by not knowing if he still lived. Chase told her more of what happened after she left the Godfist, but she could barely listen. It was just too painful to hear how wrong her plan for peace had gone. She had hoped to unite the people of the Greatland and the Godfist, but her actions had only divided them further.

Beyond a series of steep dunes, the grasslands rolled toward a distant mountain range. Madra and another rider had already staked their horses, and they were pitching tents as Catrin and the others joined with the rest of the army. Walking beside these people, she could hardly consider them an army, and she wondered what good they hoped to accomplish. It was the same question she asked of herself, a question for which she had no answer.

When they arrived at the campsite, Catrin dismounted and began to unsaddle the horse. A woman approached with a currycomb and a bucket of water. "I can care for him, m'lady."

"I'm Catrin. What's your name?"

"Grelda, m'lady."

"You don't need to call me 'm'lady.' I'd enjoy caring for him if it's not an imposition."

"I'll hold 'im for you, m'lady. He likes to kick."

Catrin shook her head and started brushing the gelding's roan coat. Watching his every move, Catrin was ready when he kicked, and she deftly stepped aside. When his coat was brushed, she let him drink. Watching his ears move on each swallow, she pulled the bucket away before he drank too much. The routine gave her peace as it took her back to a simpler time in her life. "Thank you," she said as Grelda led the gelding to the pickets, where only two other horses were tied.

"Madra kept four sound horses hidden from the Zjhon," Chase said. "One went lame on the way here. We don't have enough to do much good except for scouting and occasionally carrying those who need rest. The army moves at a terribly slow pace. Only when Madra has gotten us passage on barges have we made any real progress."

Considering her new circumstances, Catrin began to weigh every option in her mind, but there was no clear choice.

Her thoughts were interrupted, though, when Madra approached. "Now would be a good time to tell us your tale," she said and sat, cross-legged, across from where Catrin stood.

Others gathered, and soon Catrin faced much of the army, who sat silently, waiting for her to speak. Her staff in hand, she spread her arms and opened herself up to a mere trickle of energy to amplify her voice, but the power seemed to have ideas of its own. Inadvertently, she took a step backward, nearly overwhelmed by the rush of raw energy that threatened to wash her away. With a deep breath, she prepared to tell her tale, but before she even spoke, someone in the crowd gasped, and Catrin opened her eyes.

No one moved or spoke up, and Catrin opened herself to the power once again; this time ready for the onslaught. "I am Catrin Volker, daughter of a horse farmer, and the one declared the Herald of Istra," she said, and she recounted her journey, leaving out no details. Gone was the time for secrecy.

For the first time, no one questioned her tale, and no one scoffed at her claims. These people had seen enough already. They believed. It was not from the silence she learned this, but from powerful waves of anxiety that could not be concealed. "I have no desire for conquest. I want only peace, but there are grave dangers facing our world, and I must do what I can to prevent more people from dying. There are more statues to be found, and Archmaster Belegra's search for weapons of power threatens us all. I do not ask you to join my quest or forward my cause. I ask only that you strive for order and peace, even if you must fight to achieve it. I cannot tell you yet what I will do next, as I've not yet had time to consider all that has changed. I ask you to consider my words and allow me some time."

"You have given us a great deal to consider, and we, too, will need time to evaluate this new information. Until we gather again, please consider yourselves honored guests," Madra said.

Catrin released the stream of power reluctantly, despite her struggle to control it, and it left her yearning for more. Taking a deep breath, she steadied herself, letting the cool evening air caress her. It lulled her and soon she yawned. "I need to rest."

"We don't have any extra tents, but you can sleep in mine," Chase said.

"Thank you, but I think I'd like to sleep under the sky tonight."

"If that's what makes you happy, but if it starts raining, don't come in my tent all wet."

Staring up at the sky from her bedroll, Catrin reveled in the light of the moon, stars, and comets, her fatigue suddenly abated. She counted four comets in the sky, and their energy rejuvenated her.

Within moments, though, the stillness of the night sky was disturbed as what looked like tiny comets streaked across the sky before disappearing. Several people who were looking at the show gasped and exclaimed. Chase came from his tent when he heard the commotion.

"What is it, Cat?"

"I'm not sure. Look to the sky," she said. "It seems harmless, and it's actually quite beautiful."

Chase watched with her for some time as the firestorm raged, but then he stood and stretched. "I should be sleeping," he said as he left for his tent.

Catrin watched longer than she should have, but she was mesmerized and knew she might never witness such an event again. Eventually, she made herself close her eyes. In the quiet of her mind, she heard the faint melody of life, and it lulled her to sleep.

Madra watched the skies with a mixture of fascination and dread. The world she had known was gone, and in its place was a world where nothing was certain, where entire nations feared a girl who looked as if she might be afraid of her own shadow. Though Madra sensed strength in Catrin, she doubted it would be enough. She, too, had been a gentle flower in her youth, full of hope and optimism, but the world had hardened her. It had taken her optimism and tempered it with cold fear and bitter futility. At times, she thought she might shatter from the stress of it.

Looking across the grass to where Catrin lay, Madra drew a deep breath and did her best to find some shred of hope. For Catrin's sake and her own, she tilted her head back and gazed to the skies. With all her might, she sent her prayers to the gods, hoping that maybe this time they would hear.