The Dawning of Power

Chapter 3

Our eyes are most critical of those who are reflections of ourselves. -Elinda Wumrick, mother of three

Distorted echoes of string instruments and cymbals filled the halls of Ravenhold. There was no tune or melody, as if those who played could not hear the notes. Banquet tables were laden with rotting food. Faceless men and women danced without rhythm, as if some unseen force drove them.

Catrin stood at the center of it all in her wedding dress. But when she looked down, it was soiled and torn. Her grandmother beckoned from the head table, but Catrin could not break free from those who danced. Her every step was blocked, and it seemed she was getting farther away. Lissa, looking as Catrin imagined her: like herself but with eyes of ice and fire, stood at her grandmother's side, her slender hand extended to point at Catrin, a silent accusation.

Hands grabbed Catrin's waist and propelled her around the floor, twirling her until she was dizzy. Her legs could no longer hold her, and she fell and fell and fell. When at last she struck cold stone, she looked up to see Carrod Winsiker staring down at her, his lips curled into a sneer. He laughed and the room spun. Every face she saw was twisted in contempt, mocking her. Lissa threw a piece of moldy bread at her, and her grandmother laughed.

Shame and grief overwhelmed Catrin, and she begged for mercy, but they surrounded her, accusing her of abandoning them. Her grandmother came to the fore and opened her mouth to speak, but no sound emerged. Instead, a crimson rose bloomed on her chest, and she dropped to the floor, an arrow protruding from her back. On the balcony stood Catrin's betrothed, engulfed in a nimbus of power. He reached out with fingers of flame and raked the soft flesh of her throat. Crying out in pain, she looked down to see blood soaking her already fouled dress.

When she raised her head again, robed figures threw ropes of fire into the crowd, and those who danced burst into flame, but still they danced. Wicked laughter pounded in her ears, and as a haze of blood clouded her vision, they were gone.

"No!" Catrin shouted, grappling with hands that restrained her. She lashed out, desperate with fear.

Benjin frowned down at her. "It was a bad dream. Wake up, li'l miss. You're safe."

Slowly, reality supplanted the image of her dream, and she relaxed. "I'm sorry."

"You've nothing to be ashamed of," he said. "Fate has been unkind to you, and you've not even had time to grieve. Allow yourself to do that, and then, perhaps, the dreams will not be as bad."

"Thank you." People milled about, and several cast Catrin questioning glances.

Madra approached. Everyone in the camp showed deference to her, yet she had a kind word, a pat on the shoulder, or an embrace for each of them. The harsh persona dissolved in those moments, and Catrin saw the real Madra.

"Our dreams bring messages," she said when she reached Catrin. "But they are rarely understood. Give them credence, but do not rely on them for council."

"Thank you, Madra."

"When you've eaten, please join me," Madra said as she walked back to her tent.

Chase brought a half loaf of bread, some smoked fish, and a flask of water. "What do we do from here?" he asked.

Catrin had known this time would come, but she was still not ready to answer. Haunted by her dreams, she tried to find reason, tried to find a course that would not lead to disaster. In a moment of clarity, she firmed her resolve and made a choice. "We go to Ohmahold," she said, but she turned her head when Millie made an annoyed sound in her throat. "On the way, we'll stop at Ravenhold, but we'll only remain there a short time." Millie looked smug but seemed satisfied.

"And after Ohmahold? What then?" Chase asked.

"I'll not remain long in Ohmahold either. I'll fulfill my commitments, and then I'll find a way to get to the Firstland. Belegra poses a serious threat, and I cannot allow him to enslave anyone else. I would go in search of the other statues, but I've no idea how to find them. At least with Belegra I know where he has most likely gone, even if I don't know how to get there."

"Wherever we go," Chase said, with a pointed look at Catrin, "we are going to need a ship. Fasha was headed for New Moon Bay. Madra knows ways to contact her, as does Brother Vaughn. I guess we just need to find a map."

Catrin simply nodded her acknowledgment.

"I think Belegra may have a map, but I doubt you'll find another," Samda said. "I believe it was among his most closely guarded treasures."

"We'll find a way," Chase said with a firm nod. "Let's go. Madra awaits."

On their way to Madra's tent, Catrin saw fear in the eyes of many she passed. Making the mistake of looking one woman in the eye, Catrin felt a wave of terror pour out. Some may seek out the ability to inspire fear in others, but Catrin detested it. It made her feel like a monster.

Madra, at least, showed no signs of fear when they approached. She sat next to the remains of a small fire and motioned for Catrin to sit. Chase and Benjin seemed unsure if they were welcome, but Madra smiled. "Please, all of you, sit with me and let's discuss what lies ahead."

"Thank you, Madra."

"We set out to confront the Zjhon armies and reclaim what is rightfully ours. You're welcome to join us, if you choose. What you've already done has aided us. We're indebted to you for that, but we'll not kneel to you."

"I don't want anyone to kneel to me," Catrin said. "I seek no power or authority. I only want peace. And while I support your goals, I, too, have things I must achieve. I must return to Ravenhold and Ohmahold to fulfill my commitments, but if our paths remain the same for some time, I would welcome a place in your camp."

"Fair enough."

Driven by a strong wind, the Stealthy Shark knifed through the waves, sending sea spray high into the air. Feeling the cool mist on her cheeks was one of the things Fasha loved most about the sea, and most times, it brought a smile to her face, but on this day, it brought only fear and sadness. Watching Chase as he had waded from the surf, departing her world and entering the world of the land-bound, something inside of her had changed. She could not define what had changed, but nothing in her life had been the same since. Not even the rush of dodging patrol ships brought her any real joy. It was as if all the things that had been important to her suddenly lost their meaning.

Chase's desperate-almost primal-need to save his cousin had affected Fasha more than she had originally realized. Though she knew she belonged at sea, she found herself wanting to meddle in the affairs of the land-bound, something her mother often cautioned against, saying it was a certain path to trouble. Still the thoughts lingered, and Fasha continued to question herself. When sails appeared on the horizon, she had no choice but to concentrate on survival. Her conscience would have to wait.

Weeks of traveling with Madra's army proved to Catrin that she never wanted to become a soldier. Half of every morning was spent breaking camp, and half the evening was spent making camp. She had to admit that this specific army had problems that no other would. Children ran through the tents in packs, playing and roughhousing. Other, smaller children cried late into the night, every night, making sleep difficult to find. Tempers were short, and patience was in shorter supply than food. When Catrin could take no more, she joined Madra and Benjin by one of the many campfires.

"Soon we'll turn west, toward Adderhold," Madra said.

"We'll go east to Ravenhold," Catrin said. "Thank you for everything you've done for us, and may you find what you seek."

"May the gods be with us all, and may you make your peace-if not for the world, at least for yourself."

"Thank you, Madra. You are kind. I've a favor I must ask of you," Catrin said, and Madra raised an eyebrow. "May I use one of your horses and ride ahead? There're some things I need that may be hard to come by with an army in the area."

"You ask a great deal. We've only three horses, and I cannot afford to lose any of them. I'm sorry. I cannot grant this request. All of them need to be shod, and Hedron says his back hurts too much to do it now."

"Benjin and I can shoe them for you," Catrin said. "I ask nothing in return. It's a small thing we can do to repay the kindness you've shown Chase and the rest of us."

"If you have the skills," Madra said, "I can get you the tools. I'm certain Hedron will appreciate it, as I do."

Catrin and Benjin followed Madra to Hedron's tent. He struggled to stand when they arrived. "Ah, Madra. I'm of no use to you at all now, am I?"

"Nonsense. You'll heal, and then you'll work twice as hard," she said, and they both smiled. "Catrin and Benjin have offered to shoe the horses."

Hedron smiled and shook Benjin's hand. "Well, come then. There's a shoeing kit in the saddlebags. Poor animals are sore in need. Bless you for your kindness."

The shoes were indeed wearing thin, and some were pulling away from the hoof, the nails loose or missing. Catrin held each horse as Benjin did what he could. Some shoes were near to wearing all the way through, and he shook his head. "I'm not sure how long this will last, but they're on better than they were. The filly's shoes are pretty far gone."

"Far better. Far better, indeed," Hedron said. "I'd give her new shoes if we had 'em, but everything is scarce these days."

"Which horse has the best shoes?" Madra asked.

"The chestnut gelding," Benjin said. "Only one of his shoes is wearing thin."

"Take him," Madra said. "Meet us within four days. Don't make me regret this decision," she said. Then she turned her attention to other matters within the camp.

Catrin sought out Millie. "I need gold. Do you have any you would loan me against the gifts I've received?"

"The gold is yours, m'lady. I merely keep it safe. Spend it wisely," she said as she handed Catrin a small but fat purse.

Despite his protests, Catrin persuaded Chase to stay. Leaving her staff in his care, she and Benjin saddled up the chestnut and mounted. "We'll meet you in four days," Benjin said, and Catrin felt the stares on her back as they rode away. The sensation was overwhelmed, though, by the freedom of being on horseback, even if only as a passenger. Synchronizing her movements with the horse, they became almost as one, and she breathed in deeply, enjoying the serenity of the moment.

"What are we after?" Benjin asked.

"I need new clothes, and I'd like to get whatever food we can."

"Clothes?"

"No matter how much power I may have, people look at me and see a peasant and a child. I need clothes that will create a much different impression."

"I suppose you're right," Benjin said, "but this is a dangerous foray. We've no idea what the political climate is in these lands or how people will greet us. They may accept your gold and then slip a knife between your ribs."

Catrin didn't have a response for that. She felt it was a chance she had to take.

They rode through silent wilderness for much of the day, but then more settled lands came into view. Few people worked the fields, but some stood from their labors and stared as Catrin and Benjin rode by. More stares followed as they entered a small town, and Benjin slowed their mount to a walk.

Shop owners hawked wares silently by holding up their finest products and displaying others on outdoor shelves and racks. An elderly woman held up a pair of leather leggings as they passed, and Catrin whispered to Benjin to stop. He reined in and tied the horse off to a nearby post.

The shop owner nodded to Catrin, and only when they were inside the shop did she speak. "Welcome, lady. What have you need of?"

"I need three pairs of leggings, a coat, and shirts," Catrin said while admiring the different designs on display within the shop while Benjin stood at the door, watching the shop and their horse at the same time. "I like this design," Catrin said, looking at a jacket of supple leather with reinforced rawhide patches on the elbows and shoulders, the inside lined with soft cloth. "Can you make the leggings to match this?"

"That I can. Just let me get you measured," the shopkeeper said as she retrieved a long piece of string. With deft and quick movements, she made small knots in the string after each measurement. "I can have those ready in ten or twelve days."

"I need them sooner," Catrin said. "Can you have them done in two days?"

"Impossible. I have work to finish for other customers, and I'd have to work day and night, even if I wasn't already behind. I'm sorry. No."

Catrin nodded and fingered her purse. Pulling out two gold coins, she placed them on the counter. "I need them in two days."

"Yes. Yes. Certainly, m'lady," the shopkeeper said, her eyes going wide. "I'll have them ready. Is there anything else you need?"

"Where might I find a cobbler?"

"My husband's the best in the land, m'lady. Let me get 'im for you," she said and disappeared into the back of the shop. A moment later, a bearded man appeared, looking half asleep, but his wife urged him from behind.

"Mala says you need shoes?"

"Boots. I need a pair of sturdy but comfortable boots. And I need them in two days."

"Can't be done," he said, but Mala cuffed him in the back of the head and whispered in his ear. "Two days, then," he said, rubbing his head. After he measured her feet in equally efficient fashion, Catrin handed him a gold coin.

"Two days."

"I wish you'd been less generous with the gold," Benjin said as they rode from town. "We're conspicuous enough as it is."

"We don't have time to wait. I did what I had to do."

"I know, li'l miss. I just have a bad feeling."

"Let's ride to the next town and see if we can find a cooperative food merchant," Catrin said, having bad feelings of her own.

As the sun set, Benjin began looking for suitable campsites, and eventually they settled beneath a grove of oaks. Compared to the chaos of the army encampments, the song of the tree frogs was like a lullaby, and Catrin slept better than she had in weeks.

In the light of Madra's fire, Chase wondered what would happen next. Here he sat in a strange land, far from his home, yet he found himself tied to these people by bonds of brotherhood and friendship. Their cause was not his, but he felt guilty knowing he would only leave them to their fates. In other circumstances, he would stay with them and help them reclaim their lives, but he knew he could not. It seemed hopeless.

The challenges ahead of Catrin seemed just as insurmountable, and he quailed in the face of them. Once he had felt strong, even powerful. In his sheltered world, back on the Godfist, he had always been certain he would succeed, but now his world seemed impossibly large and equally dangerous, which left him feeling insignificant and powerless. Thinking of his friends and family, he suddenly missed them more than he had ever thought possible. Across the fire, he noticed Madra watching him. Their eyes met, and he could not look away.

"You're a good boy," she said, and Chase could not hide his surprise. "When the gods first sent you to me, I thought you were just another test, but you've proven yourself to me. You're brave, honest, and hard working. No matter what path you choose, you've as good a chance as any to succeed."

Chase was dumbstruck. He'd never expected to hear such words from Madra. She'd always been gruff yet fair and harsh without being caustic. He'd always thought himself a burden to her and that his efforts had barely made his presence tolerable. Now, looking in her eyes, he saw something entirely different. The rough exterior had been hiding what lay beneath, and through the cracks that she allowed to show, she revealed a bit of herself to him.

"You remind me of my youngest, Medrin. He's a good boy too," she said and her voice cracked.

Chase moved closer and squeezed her hand. "You'll get them back," he said. In the next moment, his perceptions of the world changed once again as one of the strongest people he'd ever met laid her head on his shoulder and cried.

The sun brought a cheerful summer day to life, and it seemed to Catrin almost as if everything were right in the world. Honey farms and wheat fields dotted the countryside, and soon a larger town came into view. The streets were congested with merchants and beggars alike, both ready to part the unwary from their coin.

Benjin kept to the main thoroughfare and dismounted only when they reached the market proper. Here, guards patrolled and no beggars could be seen. Despite the added measure of safety they brought, Catrin feared the sight of them. Benjin tied their mount to a post in front of a place that sold wagons, not far from a shop that smelled of baking bread.

"Let me have the gold. I'll do the talking," Benjin said, and Catrin handed him the purse. "Good day to you, sir," he said to the wagon merchant.

"That it is," the man replied as Benjin wandered around the lot, inspecting the available wagons. "What can I help you find?"

"I'm not certain I see anything that would suit my needs."

"Most of the good ones have gone, and no new ones are being built, friend. You won't find a better selection in all the Greatland during these trying times. Perhaps this fine, single-horse cart would make your burdens lighter?"

"How much?"

"Four silvers."

"Two," Benjin countered.

"Three."

"Three and you include the harness."

"Deal."

Catrin was amazed at how quickly the deal was made. And she saw a look of suspicion cross the merchant's face as Benjin handed him a gold coin, not having anything smaller. The merchant handed Benjin his change in silvers as if each one were an insult. Benjin apologized and slipped the man another silver for his trouble. This brightened the man's expression considerably, but Catrin still sensed distrust.

After unsaddling their mount, Benjin put the harness on him and hooked it to the wagon. When he was done putting the saddle in the wagon, he walked to the baker's shop. Inside, all manner of bread, cake, and biscuit were on display, and bakers were busy taking fresh loaves from massive stone ovens.

"Greetings, friends. What can Amul do for you today?" asked a rotund and flour-covered man from behind the counter.

"I need as many loaves of bread and hard biscuits as you can sell me."

"Well, I certainly couldn't sell you everything since I've my regular customers to think of, and that would take a lot of coin, friend. Have you an army to feed?" the baker asked with a hint of his own suspicion.

"Sometimes it seems that way, friend Amul, but no. How much can you spare?" Benjin asked, and the baker visibly appraised Benjin and Catrin.

"Twenty loaves of bread and twice as many biscuits," the baker said after a moment's contemplation. Benjin paid him handsomely, and they loaded their wagon with haste.

Their purchases were starting to draw attention, and they rushed to escape the scrutiny. Before they left town, though, Benjin made a hurried bargain with a meat merchant, who sold them ten cured hams, and a blacksmith, who sold them a gross of horseshoes and nails. They had spent most of the gold Millie had given Catrin, but she was happy with what they had been able to get.

Fearing they would be followed, Catrin spent most of the ride looking over her shoulder, but no one came. Pulling the wagon was slower than riding, and their horse occasionally struggled with the additional weight, but it was overall a pleasant way to travel. When night arrived, they made camp in a grassy clearing, tied the gelding off to a nearby tree, and took turns sleeping under the stars.

Watching the night sky, Nat considered his fortune. He'd wasted a lifetime on the Godfist, fighting the preconceived notions of others, always having to prove himself sane. Now, after coming to the Falcon Isles, he found himself transformed from madman to teacher, pariah to mentor, outcast to leader.

The Gunata tribe had been wary of him at first, probably due to bad experiences with others of fewer morals than he. They were a primitive tribe that only in recent decades had come into contact with civilized people. Civilized-the word rang falsely in Nat's mind. Civilized: to be civil, benevolent. The term seemed more fitting to describe the unsophisticated Gunata than anyone from the Godfist or the Greatland.

The Gunata did not seem to judge one another or cast aspersions. They lived a simple existence where the tribe mattered more than any individual, yet every person was valued. Nat found it truly refreshing. Still, he had tried to avoid developing feelings for Neenya, but it was a battle he lost. As he had learned bits of her language, and she his, they had become closer, speaking a language only they understood.

During his trips to the mountain, Neenya was always by his side, helping and protecting him. When she told the Gunata of his visions, the elders seemed relieved, as if Nat were filling some crucial role. Nat wasn't certain he understood their reasoning, but they had taken him in, and they treated him as an elder. When Neenya offered herself to him as a wife, the elders approved. Despite the warnings in his head, Nat could not resist.

With the full moon at its zenith, Nat and Neenya stood before the elders.

"Zagut," Chief Umitiri said, and Nat knew that was his signal to kneel. Neenya knelt at his side, her hand in his. Each elder came to them and kissed each of them on the forehead. Chief Umitiri came last. He grasped Nat's head between his thick-fingered hands and looked Nat in the eye. When he kissed Nat's forehead, it felt like a hammer blow, and Nat was thrust into a violent fit as visions overtook him-visions of Catrin standing before a charging bull with hooves of fire.