The Dawning of Power

by Brian Rathbone

  So quickly did Catrin propel herself to the statue that she had to let her body catch up. The thrumming air seemed to suspend her flesh, and her spirit barely clung to it. Her hands fumbled as they gripped the staff and prepared for impact. With all the force she could muster, she struck the glowing base of the statue. The energy trapped within pealed and flowed through the staff, through Catrin, and into the land itself. She could do nothing to stop it. Every muscle in her body contracted, and her face contorted in a twisted rictus.

  Immediately she realized her mistake. The statue contained a small but highly charged core of noonstone opposite some other type of stone she did not recognize, one that stored a massive negative charge. Only a thin layer of dense metal separated the two charges. If that insulating barrier broke down, the resulting chain reaction would be monstrous, just as the one in the Westland had been. The explosion would be felt all the way in Endland, which seemed almost unfathomable to Catrin, having struggled to cross the massive expanse.

  The men rushing toward her and those with bows drawn compounded her problems. Missiles were already on their way to meet her when she flung energy about her for protection. An angry sphere of red and lightning formed a shield around her. Arrows and spears burst into flames as they struck the wall of plasma, falling away harmlessly. But Catrin's resolve nearly faltered when men dived upon her sphere, hurling themselves against her energy flow. She felt their energy clash with hers and their spirits released by the impact. Each one was like a knife to her heart, and she wept.

  "Please stop! I cannot keep you safe if you attack me. The energy has me trapped. Please stop! Please," she wailed, but Belegra urged more men to assault her defenses. He showed no regard for human life as he chided those who would preserve themselves. Those who stood around him, those hidden within the depths of their robes, seemed compelled into action. Each had access to Istra's power, but they were bound by Archmaster Belegra's will--slaves. As the archmaster moved his arms in wild and rigid gestures, the robed figures attacked without moving.

  Hot, fetid rays of adulterated power emanated from them. Each of the energies merged with the others and was orchestrated by Archmaster Belegra. Somehow, he exerted nearly total control over these men, with the exception of Prios, who was clever. His energy separated itself once beyond Archmaster Belegra's field of influence and only brushed across the surface of Catrin's sphere, whispering to her, over and over again.

  "You gave me a name. You gave me power."

  Archmaster Belegra was completely consumed in his machinations and seemed unaware of the communication between Prios and Catrin. The remaining mixture of energies, however, slammed into her sphere, and she reeled. The impact was worse than the time she had been kicked in the chest by a plow horse, and she wondered if her ribs were broken. Archmaster Belegra continued to pummel her with the twisted energies, but it became obvious he would not be able to do so much longer. His breathing was ragged, and beads of sweat raced down his mottled flesh.

  Without so much as a twitch, Catrin sensed Prios separate himself from the twisted flow completely, and he lashed out at Archmaster Belegra. Like a striking snake, a thread of energy arced between them, and they both collapsed. The others swayed on their feet as the compulsion ended abruptly, and two fell to their knees, leaving only two standing.

  Catrin took advantage of the respite and desperately reached into the statue, casting her senses over the deadly charges. There seemed an impossible amount of energy still trapped within, considering what had already been released, and she despaired. At the rate it was draining, it would take days if not weeks to deplete, and the insulating barrier was rapidly breaking down. It writhed and bubbled, boiling. Desperate, she tried to draw the scorching heat out of the core. Slowly the barrier cooled to a near-solid state, though the ground around Catrin's feet caught fire.

  With the insulator stabilized, she returned her efforts to draining the excessive energy stored in the noonstone core. After the initial shock, she became desensitized to the massive energy flow, and though she felt as if she were slowly melting away, she could control herself and the flow of energy much better.

  "Good people of the Greatland, flee!" she shouted. "I fear the statue will explode no matter what I do, get as far away as you can. I'll hold it as long as I am able."

  "Don't listen to her," Archmaster Belegra shouted as he pulled himself from the ground. "Attack! Avenge your brethren! The Herald Witch is the true cause of these evils. Destroy her! Any who flee are traitors, and their lives will be forfeit."

  His words rang discordant over those who still milled about the arena, and only a few fought to reach Catrin. The majority continued to flee, but some rallied together and advanced on Archmaster Belegra and his supporters. With his time undoubtedly short, Archmaster Belegra launched a desperate attack. He tore the energy from those who surrounded him and thrust at the Statue of Terhilian itself.

  In one motion, he undid all that Catrin had accomplished. The barrier began to vaporize, and she knew it would soon break down completely. She attempted to divert his continued onslaught, but the mass of wild energy was beyond her control. As she tried to influence its course, it leaped out in all directions and struck down men and women without discretion. Even as she pulled away from it, lesser bolts of energy blasted Benjin and several of her guards. Their smoking forms lay frighteningly still where they landed, and Catrin nearly lost consciousness.

  Breathing became almost impossible in the overheated air, and she drew ragged gasps. The arena spun before her as her vision clouded. The world was collapsing around her, and there was nothing more she could do. She'd given all she could give, and it hadn't been enough. Doomed to failure, she wondered why she even bothered to continue struggling. It would be so much easier to just give up, to lie down and die, but some inner fire still burned, and while any chance existed, she would fight.

  After sucking in the deepest breath she could manage, she prepared to launch her final assault on Archmaster Belegra. Her skin grew taut and her fingernails peeled back as she gripped the staff, drawing more energy than she'd ever tried to contain before. She drew not only from the statue, but also from the staff, the noonstones, and the air itself. The natural energy helped to balance the wild forces trapped within the statue, but her exhaustion threatened to claim her. She walked a knife's edge between delivering a mighty blow and succumbing to it.

  The polished surface of the staff bubbled, and her fingers bit into its flesh. Blistering sap raised welts on her hands, and she could draw no more. Fear gripped her as the reality of her situation set in. She was about to die, and so was everyone nearby. She could not hope to deliver this much energy and still remain standing; the statue would run its course, and with the comet still grazing the atmosphere, it wouldn't be long before it was all over.

  Resigned to her death, she peeled her hands from the staff, and for a moment marveled at the imprints of her fingers carved deep into the wood. Turning to face Archmaster Belegra, she drew herself up. He was not unprepared, though, and launched an attack of his own. Green and yellow flames roared from his fingers as he drew upon the remaining members of his cadre, which included Prios, who seemed to have no more fight left in him. His form slumped forward as his life's energy was drained.

  Enraged, Catrin delivered her blow, hurtling a rope of fire and lightning at Archmaster Belegra's head. He ducked under the assault, but the heat took his hair and blistered his flesh. With a terrible cry, he fled, and Catrin wobbled. She spun and reached about her, searching for something to hold on to, and her hands landed on the staff, still protruding from the statue's base. Her fingers settled precisely in the same place that bore their recessed imprints, and the energy surged through her again.

  Without even understanding exactly what she was doing, she tugged on the energy and pulled it to her, embracing it. Her body thrummed, and she felt her spirit becoming free. She watched with a sense of indifferent attachment as she hung in the air above her physical form.<
br />
  Before her, the statue glowed so brightly that it was blinding, and beyond it, the remnants of the crowd parted like the sea before the hull of a fast ship. Catrin barely heard the howling that split the air, but she saw an enraged bull of a man charging the statue.

  "Do not despair, heart of the land! I've come for you," he bellowed, and Catrin recognized him at last.

  Barabas.

  "Abomination, be gone!" he roared as he closed the gap, and Catrin drifted closer to her body, intrigued.

  Barabas struck the statue at a full run, and the arena was rocked with the concussion. The Statue of Terhilian trembled on its base, and Catrin felt Barabas as he was freed from his body. His spirit sang as it blasted free, knowing his sacrifice had not been in vain.

  Some force moved Catrin's ephemeral spirit, and she slammed back into her body. Though she felt as if a part of her were lost, she became, once again, constrained by her physical form just as it hit the ground, and her breath whooshed from her lungs.

  The statue was no longer a viable weapon. Barabas had done that which Catrin had not thought to do. Rather than deplete the positive charge, he had neutralized the negative charge by hitting it with his own positive energy. The noonstone core still stored a tremendous charge, but the reactive agent was gone.

  An ear-shattering crack brought her out of her stupor. The Statue of Terhilian split down its center. Istra and Vestra were parted from their eternal embrace and sent crashing to the ground. Large pieces fractured into smaller sections, and it rained stone. Rough hands grabbed Catrin by the back of her dress and dragged her away from the disintegrating leviathan. She floundered, her limbs leaden and unwilling to respond to her command, and she let the darkness claim her.

  Before she drifted into oblivion, a warm and bright spirit visited her, and Barabas spoke one last time before he departed the world of the living.

  "Be strong, heart of the land. Your work is not yet done."

  Epilogue

  Hunching his shoulders over the massive crystal he carried, Prios struggled to keep his grip. Heavy and slick, the ebony stone's sharp edges bit into his hands, but he made no complaint. He'd spoken out once, when he was younger, and Archmaster Belegra had ordered his tongue cut out. Even deprived of speech, he could communicate well enough with those sensitive to Istra's power. Archmaster Belegra and the others of the cadre had little difficulty understanding the mental images he sent them, and Catrin had understood him even when their bodies had been leagues apart. It was the memory of her that kept him going.

  She gave me a name. She gave me power.

  It was his mantra, and he repeated it to himself over and over. Prios. She had named him Prios. The name gave him pride, and he built his identity around it. He was no longer a nameless slave child, powerless and weak. He was Prios, and he was the master of his own destiny.

  After the destruction of the statue, he had expected to be killed for his betrayals, but the archmaster acted as if he were unaware. Prios still couldn't believe it, though, and he dreaded the moment when Archmaster Belegra unleashed his fury. Surely he was not so blind that he hadn't noticed. Even if he were truly ignorant, what of the other members of the cadre? How long until one of them revealed his deceit? They had no reason to love him, yet they, too, had reason to hate Belegra. He had enslaved them all and used them without mercy. Prios could not know if the others were aware of his actions or if they would remain silent, and his life hung from the thinnest thread. All he could do was move on and hope for the day he would be reunited with Catrin. His dreams were full of her, and the thought of joining her was like a beacon in the darkness. It guided him forward and kept him from despairing.

  Nearly losing his footing on the slippery gangplank, he thought a moment about letting himself fall into the dark waters, taking the precious crystal with him. It was so tempting. He would be free of his bonds at last, freed from the cruelty of his existence. Again, a vision of Catrin came to his mind. She glowed so brightly, and she lured him, just as the scent of roses draws the honeybee. She was brave and powerful, beautiful yet humble. He drew strength from her and climbed aboard the ship determined to find her. He would join her, and together they would be free.

  She gave me a name. She gave me power. And, one day, I will be free.

  Book Three

  Dragon Ore

  Prologue

  Fields of aquatic vegetation shimmered under clear, blue waters, patches of white sand standing out in bold contrast. The Stealthy Shark sliced through calm seas as silent as her name would imply. Standing at the bow, Chase and Fasha watched Istra's eye set the skies afire, and neither dared give voice to their thoughts.

  The longer Catrin had been gone, the less Chase liked her plan. Brother Vaughn had been true to his word and, in getting a message to Fasha, had done more than his share to help Chase achieve his goal, but that goal still seemed unattainable. The southern shores of the Greatland stretched on endlessly, and unlike on maps, there were no markings to show where Faulk ended and the Westland began.

  "The southern coast of the Westland is less inhabited than that of Faulk," Fasha said. "There are places we can wait for her."

  Chase just nodded, silent, unable to maintain much hope. The Greatland was so vast, a person could easily disappear into it, and he feared Catrin and Benjin would do just that.

  During their journey, skirting the coastline, they had stopped at small and hidden docks along the way, getting news and supplies. Reports were clear. The Statue of Terhilian found in southern Faulk had been moved to Adderhold by barge, and more recently, another had been found in the Westland. Catrin would have to go to Adderhold. And if she survived that, would she go next to the Westland? Indecision gnawed at Chase. Should he stay with the original plan when his gut told him to go find her? He weighed every possibility in his mind as the coastline slid by.

  News of revolts and unrest throughout the Greatland made him wonder if Catrin would ever even get within sight of the statue. It seemed unlikely. Trying to be strong, he committed himself to waiting, just as Catrin had asked him to do. Any other course was just too risky.

  In an instant, though, the world changed. A blinding flash of green light backlit the coast, and moments later, a thunderous blast rocked the ship, followed by low, rumbling echoes in the distance.

  "May the gods be gentle," Fasha said, her hand over her mouth. Chase swayed on his feet and braced himself on the railing.

  "That came from the Westland, didn't it? It was over that way," Chase said, motioning ahead and to the left of their position.

  "It did."

  "Then the one Catrin set out to destroy?" he asked.

  "Will be next."

  "I need to get to Adderhold."

  Scowling fiercely, Fasha concentrated, and there was a long pause before she nodded firmly and spoke, "I will take you to Madra. Perhaps her wisdom will show us a way."

  Chapter 1

  The wise old wolf is not wise because he's a wolf, but because he's old.

  --Javid Frederick, farmer

  * * *

  Floating in a haze of semiconsciousness, Catrin wondered if she were dead. Death had claimed her; she knew it had. Her body had failed, unable to cope with the stresses applied by so much power. Yet it did not feel like death; something of life remained. Unable to define it, she searched for what seemed an eternity. Beyond the haze of sleep, something called to her, demanding her attention. It would not be denied, and it found her.

  It was an itch.

  Refusing to allow rest, it demanded she notice and, at the very least, scratch. Driven by the nagging irritation, she tried to move, and the sensations of her body slowly returned. The painful tingling of flesh left too long without blood ravaged her, and her leaden limbs failed to respond, refused to answer her desperate call for motion. Unable to lift her arms, she struggled to see what bound her and held her fast.

  Her eyelids were crusted shut as if they were glued in place. Unwilling to relent, she forced them o
pen. Soft light was like a furious blaze, daring her to see. Still she insisted, and the clouds in her eyes faded enough for her to see the face of an unfamiliar man hovering over her. Fear impaled her.

  "Benjin," she tried to say through parched lips, needing his strength more than ever before. But her ears heard only an incoherent mumble, as even her voice refused to do her bidding.

  "A moment, m'lady," the stranger said. "Only a moment and he'll be here. He's been by your side for days, but exhaustion overcame him." Another figure darted from the shadows and out of the room before Catrin could see who it was.

  Her efforts drained the little energy she possessed, but she would not allow herself to succumb, afraid that, if she let herself sleep, she might never wake again. Holding her eyes open by the sheer force of her will, she endured pain with every involuntary blink, but her vision grew clearer, and the fog began to lift from her mind. When Benjin arrived, the concern on his face made her wonder how horrible she must look.

  "It's good to see you awake, li'l miss," he said, obviously trying to be cheerful despite her condition.

  When Catrin tried to reply, her parched throat ached and she could only cough.

  "Get her some water," Benjin said to Morif, who waited in the shadows. He filled a small cup and handed it to Benjin, who held it to Catrin's mouth. She let it pour over her lips, and she rolled it over her tongue before swallowing. Water slid down the back of her throat and tickled, resulting in another fit of coughing, but at least her throat was now moist. She wanted to drain the entire cup, but Benjin gave her only a small amount more before he set the cup aside. "Can you talk?"

  "I think," she said, but she had to stop and swallow. "I think I can." Even as she spoke, though, the itching overpowered her. Feeling began to return to her limbs. Her arm moved, unwieldy and slow, and her fingers curled to scratch her side.