"One more chance; you show big power"--he waved his arms out wide--"or all die for trying to fool Arghast," Vertook said.
Catrin moved in front of each tribal leader and looked each one in the eyes. She measured them individually, and many became offended and enraged. One man had to be restrained by his tribesmen, but Catrin did not flinch. These men were threatening to kill her and her companions, and she had nothing to lose. She strode slowly back to the center of the group and addressed everyone in the valley.
"The tribes of Arghast have assaulted the Herald of Istra and her Guardians. They have asked for proof of the Herald's power, and they have found her demonstration insufficient. Now I will show the tribes of Arghast the true power of the Herald at their own peril. Power is a dangerous thing, and to see it is to be threatened by it. Once unleashed, fate will choose its targets. I have tried to spare you, but you leave me no choice; I must put us all at risk. You have made your decision. So be it."
Her words echoed and hung ominously over the valley. Not waiting for a response, she strode straight to Nat and looked him in the eye. His fear was showing.
"May I have your staff?"
"I can deny you nothing, Lady Catrin," he said loudly and bowed, presenting his staff. She accepted it, and it felt good in her hands, lighter than it appeared. The iron-shod tip somehow balanced the strange staff, and she could feel its strength, as if it had power of its own. The wood was smooth and highly polished but was not slippery or oily. She hefted it with a determined smile and turned to her companions.
"Guardians of the Herald, I call you to duty. Please assist me while I satisfy the curiosity of the mighty Arghast tribes."
Benjin winced as a few men reacted to her comment. He and her friends stood before her, awaiting her command. She was not surprised that Nat joined the group, but when Vertook stepped up, it gave her heart.
While the tribes had been fighting, Catrin had been scanning her surroundings for energy. The mountains revealed nothing to aid her--except a small clue: water. She guessed heavy rains fell there occasionally, and when they did, the runoff would have to go somewhere.
She looked at the sand, sensing the surface then delving beneath it. The sand was not very deep in the valley, and in some places it was only a couple of feet deep. Under the loose sand, a layer of compressed sand formed brittle sandstone. Not far beneath the sandstone, she sensed a layer of bedrock. When she cast her senses deeper, through the bedrock, she found water.
Her father had taught her about artesian basins, and she remembered her lessons well. This valley had all the criteria. Rainwater drained from the mountains and into the basin, where it fed an underground aquifer. Layers of rock that rose higher into the mountains also collected and held runoff. Water was trapped below an impermeable layer of bedrock and, subsequently, was under intense pressure.
Trusting her instincts, she scanned the bedrock for thin spots and found her target at the back of the valley, a short walk from where she stood. Asking her Guardians to follow her, she strode confidently toward that spot.
The valley floor sloped downward, and the sand was a shade darker in the area Catrin selected. She stood atop the spot, closed her eyes, and reached into the sand with her senses, trying to be fully focused. Her mind pierced the bedrock and felt the intense repulsion of the water. Moments passed while she considered her options. The lives of many depended on her decision, and she did not want to make it in haste.
"What do you want us to do, Catrin?" Chase asked. "I think they're losing patience."
"I want you to dig."
"Oh for the love of everything good and right in this world, not the digging thing again," Strom said, and Chase smacked him on the back of the head.
"We'll do what you say, Catrin," Chase said. "Just tell us."
"Dig a hole here, please. Make it as deep as you can," she replied, leaning on Nat's staff while the others dug. She needed to conserve her energy for the task ahead, although she was not certain she could do anything. The energy the comet had spilled into her world was fading like a scent on a breeze, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to detect its energy, let alone harness it.
Her senses seem to have dulled in the time since the comet was last seen in the sky, and she wondered if she could get those sensations back, but she put the thought from her mind and concentrated on what she must do. Her Guardians made good progress, and the hole was already quite deep. Chase stood in the hole, and only his head and shoulders were above ground level.
The initial dig had been relatively easy, allowing them to use their hands as shovels, but when they reached the layer of sandstone, they had trouble going deeper. They used everything they had to break up the brittle sandstone, and they removed it in large chunks. Catrin desperately hoped the tribesmen would have enough patience to let them finish, and as the last of the sandstone layer was cleared from a small area, she saw the bedrock.
Running her senses over it, looking for the thinnest point, she found a likely spot, but it was close to the edge of their hole. "Clear that area, please," she said, and they quickly removed the sandstone. "I need to finish this," she said. Benjin helped her into the hole and handed Nat's staff to her.
With a deep breath, she gathered all the energy she could pull from the night air. The moon was bright above the mountains, but she felt little energy from it. She mustered what she could and drove the staff into the bedrock with all her strength. The staff struck stone and rang a sharp discord through the valley. Sparks flew and a few small chips broke away, but her blow had done little damage. Her next blow struck with such force she felt the staff flex in her grasp, and she feared it might snap in two. She paused to catch her breath and looked up at the concern in her Guardians' faces.
The crushing weight of responsibility threatened to smother her, and she could almost feel the walls of the hole closing in around her. Struggling to stay calm, she reached into the rock, looking for any imperfection, any flaw she could exploit. Close to the surface, she found an almost imperceptible hairline crack, and her hopes soared.
She concentrated on the crack and focused on her target point. She hefted the staff and struck the bedrock hard, large chunks of stone shattering among the sparks. There was a long way to go, but she had made some progress.
"You'd best hurry, Catrin. The tribes are growing hostile," Benjin said.
As she leaned down to look closely at the rock, her fish carving fell from her shirt and hung just below her face. She pulled the leather thong over her head and held the carved fish in one of her palms, wondering if she could draw energy from it. She remembered how the carving had grown hot enough to burn her leg when she slammed the ground with power, and she wondered if she hadn't been drawing from it then. The carving had appeared to recharge itself when kept in the light, and her gut said she had just stumbled onto its secret.
Grasping the staff in both hands, she held it aloft, the carving wedged between the staff and her palm. She centered herself as the carving grew warm, and she felt energy begin to flow into her. Her senses heightened as the power coursed through her veins, and as it entered her, she sensed it leaving the carving. Knowing she had no time to waste, she used all her strength and all her emotion to drive the staff into the bedrock, striking it with such force that the blow sent shockwaves echoing through the valley.
The bedrock gave way as she reached the bottom of her massive swing, and she fell forward for an instant as a large section collapsed downward. Almost instantly, the force of the trapped water sent the broken rock soaring into the air. Catrin fell back as the staff was ripped from her grasp by a huge column of water, which shot high into the night sky.
Catrin scrambled backward out of the hole, the powerful spray buffeting her as she clawed her way to safety. She retreated from the water's fury, and the Arghast backed away before her in fear and reverence. Vertook stared at the fountain, dumbstruck.
Chaos ensued as the enormous shockwave sent loose rocks and stone tumbling
down into the valley. Several people were struck, the horses panicked, and men scrambled to reach them to prevent the frightened animals from injuring themselves.
They all stared at the towering fountain with amazement and disbelief. When the height of the fountain did not dwindle, they slowly began to believe that they were in the presence of the Herald.
Catrin watched as the water fell from the sky and seeped into the sand. The sand became saturated, and soon water would fill this end of the valley.
Benjin, Chase, Osbourne, and Strom moved to her side, overjoyed. They speculated on how long the fountain would last. Catrin was physically drained, mentally exhausted, and wanted nothing more than sleep. The carved fish still in the palm of her hand looked terrible; it was chalky to the touch, and its surface was again dull.
She leaned over and placed it back around her neck. When she looked up, she found herself surrounded by kneeling tribal leaders and tribesmen; even her Guardians knelt. Vertook was in the front and center of the mass, and she realized that he alone belonged to all three groups.
Nat retrieved his staff from the sand. Then he stood before Catrin, facing those assembled. "Behold the Herald of Istra! She calls you to your duty. Will the tribes of Arghast answer her call?"
Catrin was startled by the ululating cry that rose from the throats of the Arghast and was overwhelmed when she saw that the horses, too, had gone to their knees. And her mentor and strength, Benjin, was prostrate on the ground.
Her power and accomplishment would have exhilarated her at any other time, but the day's events had been exhausting and she was lightheaded. Her vision fading, she grew dizzy and fell to the sand.
* * *
Standing before the fountain, where before had been nothing more than sand and rock, Vertook was in awe. No power could have been more moving to him than to bring water to the desert, no feat more seemingly unachievable. All his life he had waited for this moment, waited for some event to prove his life had meaning. Now that he had witnessed that event, he realized his entire life had been wasted, wandering from one dried up hole to another. For him, nothing would ever be the same. The things that had meant the most to him in life, besides his wife and his horse, suddenly were meaningless. All that mattered now was to serve Catrin, to protect her so that she might bring water to all the world.
He made in a moment a decision that should have been agonizing, yet it was surprisingly simple. "Harat!" he said without taking his gaze from the water. Only a moment later, he felt Harat by his side, sensed the calm determination and sense of honor that had always marked him as a leader. Without saying a word, Vertook untied the sash that looped over his left shoulder--passing directly over his heart. He'd taken reassurance from it many times, knowing that the sash of the leader would protect his valiant yet frail heart. Now he no longer needed it, but even more, he could no longer uphold the responsibilities that came along with the sash. Remaining silent, he handed the sash to Harat, who hesitated to take it. Vertook thrust the sash into Harat's hand, his final command as tribal leader. Harat took a step back, placed his hand over his heart, and when he bowed down, tears fell from his eyes.
As Harat walked away, Vertook pulled his gaze from the fountain long enough to watch the man who would now protect and guide those he loved. Tears fell from his own cheeks as he released the responsibilities he had worked so hard to obtain. Harat placed the sash underneath his garment, as of yet unwilling to reveal Vertook's wishes. He walked quietly through the crowd as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred, and Vertook breathed a mighty sigh of relief; he had chosen well.
* * *
Not far from where Vertook stood, Chase, Strom, and Osbourne gathered.
"When she said to dig, I wasn't expecting . . . I mean . . ." Strom began, but he just trailed off and shrugged.
"I know," Chase said. "I can't believe it either."
"How did she know?" Osbourne asked, looking at the fountain. "How does she do these things?"
"I don't know," Chase said. "I don't understand any of it, and I really want to. This whole thing just keeps getting bigger, and I don't know where it'll stop." He knew he should try to be more positive for the sake of the others, but he couldn't help but speak what was on his mind. "I just don't want to see Cat get hurt. You know how she is."
"The first time I ever met her," Osbourne said, "she was all dirty and scraped up from catching one of our pigs that got loose. The pig was nearly as big as she was, but she carried him all the way across the field to bring him to us. Looked like she took a tumble or two on her way too. She cried 'cause she thought he was hurt."
"I met her at Master Jarvis's lessons," Strom said. "She always looked sad and fragile after her mom died." His words were met with silence heavy with emotion.
"I know I've said this before," Osbourne said without looking up, "but I'm really sorry about your mom and Catrin's mom and Strom's dad. I wish they didn't die."
Chase kicked the sand in front of him. He chastised himself for letting a tear gather in his eye. The pain should be forgotten, he thought, those wounds long since healed, but they were not. When he noticed Strom struggling with pain of his own, it made him feel no better.
Osbourne shifted his weight from foot to foot in the uncomfortable silence. "What do we do now?" He asked, his voice betraying his anxiety.
Chase put a hand over his growling stomach, "I think we should try to track down some food."
Chapter 18
Of all the varied life forms on the planet Godsland, the pyre-orchid is the most curious, only blooming in the wake of forest fires.
--Sister Munion, Cathuran monk
* * *
Catrin opened her eyes for a moment, adjusted the pillow beneath her head, and pulled soft blankets over her shoulders. The morning air was cool, and she closed her eyes to drift back to sleep when voices awakened her. When she became fully aware, she noticed her surroundings. She lay on a light, fluffy bed with a similarly made pillow, which she guessed were both stuffed with down.
A small tent, made of sheer material, shaded her. The breeze passed through the fabric, but bugs could not. It was artfully made and was doubtless the finest the Arghast had to offer. Still dressed in the clothes she'd lived in for days, she was in desperate need of a good bath. Pushing back the tent flap, she walked out into a bright glare that momentarily blinded her, and she heard the sudden murmur of many hushed voices. When her vision cleared, she found all of the Arghast watching her intently. She was not sure what they expected, but their stares were intense and disconcerting. It took some time for her to decide what to say to the assembled crowd, and what came from her mouth was the plain truth.
"If I could trouble someone to help me, I am quite hungry. Is there any food left from the morning meal?" she asked almost timidly. The activity resulting from her request was astounding, and it seemed they all felt compelled to try to help. Some men scrambled to set up a small table; others made a comfortable seat for her from several large cushions, and still others erected a makeshift sunshade made of the same material as her tent.
She sat at the table and waited. People began to approach her with a lavish array of foods. Women were now part of the group, some in typical female clothing and others dressed like the men. Catrin had seen no women the day before and was surprised to see them now. The crowd was now nearly double the number she recalled. Men and women offered fruits, meats, breads, and one elderly man brought her more of the drink she remembered Vertook had given her. Catrin recognized him from his castigation of the tribal leaders, but he gave her a kindly smile.
"What is this drink?"
"Desert mist," he responded with a wink. "How to make is secret, something only spoke in private. We speak alone soon, yes?"
"Yes, of course, and thank you." She paused to take a sip of the desert mist. "What are you called, sir?" she asked.
"Called Aged Goat by most," he said with a toothless grin, "but true name is Mika. You call me Mika. Yes?"
&nbs
p; "Indeed, Mika, I will," she responded warmly, and Mika retreated through the masses. Catrin had never been served in such a way, and she found it disquieting; it felt wrong to accept their generosity, to be selfish and indulgent, but it seemed just as wrong to refuse their gifts.
Her hunger sated, she wanted a nap, but more than that she desperately wanted to get clean. As if someone were reading her mind, several women approached Catrin with soft towels and scented soaps. One motioned for her to follow and walked toward the towering fountain Catrin had created. She was delighted to see a pond forming outward from the fountain, and she hoped it would continue to grow. She envisioned a lush oasis nestled in the valley, full of life and vigor--a jewel in the desert.
Two women unfolded a large, thick cloth, which they held up for privacy. Catrin took soap that smelled of peppermint then undressed and dipped her toes into the water. It was bitterly cold, and the frigid spray made her shiver, but she was thankful for the opportunity to get clean. The shallow water at the edge was not quite as cold, and she used it to wash herself. The soap created a rich, aromatic lather, and Catrin lavished in the fragrance as she washed off the grime of many days.
When she emerged from the pool, the same woman who had led her to the pond brought her a soft towel. She dried herself and looked for her clothes, but they were not where she had left them. Another woman approached with clothes similar to Catrin's. She knew that it had taken them much thought and effort to find these for her, and she felt almost unworthy. She put on the borrowed clothes, and they were a fair fit. The shirtsleeves were a little long, but she rolled them up, insisting that it was just the way she liked her sleeves.
There was more food and drink when she returned from her bathing, and Benjin and the boys were there too. In the flurry of the morning, she had not thought of them, and she was relieved to see they were fine--just dirty. The women offered the towels and soap to them, and they wasted no time in getting to the fountain.
The leaders had congregated nearby, looking subdued and clearly waiting for her to speak first. With her hunger satiated and her friends attended to, Catrin turned her attention to them.
Call of the Herald - Young Adult Epic Fantasy Page 20
