The Dawning of Power

by Brian Rathbone

  She had taken only three good strides before the Gholgi resumed their hunt with what seemed a renewed sense of urgency. Grunts and growls passed between them, sounding to Catrin as if they were speaking a guttural language. Driven by fear, she climbed, hoping the Gholgi were not skilled climbers. Ahead lay a rocky vale, and if only she could reach it, she would be safe. It was an irrational thought, but it inspired her to even greater speed. Exhaustion threatened to overcome her; her vision blurred and the world took on a yellow haze, but she drew a deep breath and climbed.

  Beyond one last boulder waited rich grasses that promised a soft bed. Littered with chunks of granite and bathed in moonlight, the vale looked as if some god had split a mountain into bits and sprinkled them along the valley floor. Reaching up to grab the top of the boulder, Catrin cried out as a Gholgi clutched her leg, pulling her backward, its claws biting through her leggings and into her flesh.

  In the moment before she knew she would succumb, the attack suddenly stopped; the Gholgi released its grip and was gone. Exhausted and losing blood, Catrin could make no sense of what had just happened, and she concentrated on simply reaching the vale. In a dreamlike state, she crawled across the grasses to one of the boulders.

  Leaning against the rock was more comfortable than she had expected, and she was grateful for a place to rest; she felt safe. Cutting her leggings away from the wounds on her leg, she winced. From deep gashes, some nearly to the bone, seeped her precious blood. If she did not stop the bleeding, she would die, but her meager efforts did not staunch the flow.

  Weariness began to overtake her and she thought it might be nice to lie down on the grass and sleep, but a nagging voice in the back of her mind reminded her that sleep meant death. She was not ready to die yet; her work was not yet done.

  Pulling her eyes open, she realized she was already lying down, the grass pressing against her face. After pushing herself back into a sitting position, she drew a deep breath, and her head spun.

  Draw on the life around you.

  She didn't know from where the message came, but it was a welcome one, full of hope and compassion. Opening herself up, she allowed the life around her to flow into her, and she was surprised by the power of it. Looking down, she saw blood still running from her wounds, and she knew the additional energy would not be enough to save her. She had to find a way to stop the bleeding.

  Despite the warnings, she thought of Enoch Giest and how he had healed himself. The lines of all those he taught to heal themselves had been doomed. Knowing the effects, Catrin concluded it was worth the risk as long as she did not have children or teach anyone else how to do it. Of course, that was assuming she could figure it out herself in the limited time she had left.

  Using the last of her strength, she reached out to the comets and drew a trickle of power. Combined with the life energy she still felt flowing around her, she attained clear thought. She knew what her body had to do to heal itself. All she had to do was get a message through the barrier between her conscious and subconscious minds without shattering it in the process.

  Somehow, instinctively, she knew where to find the barrier, and she visualized it as a wall of stone and mortar in her mind. Not wanting to take down the entire wall, she chipped away at the mortar around a single stone. With her trusty, old belt knife, which still existed in her memory, she broke away the mortar, and light began to stream through from the other side, blindingly bright and filled with colors Catrin had never before seen.

  Determined, she wiggled the stone until it started moving a little more with each swing. Then it broke free with a suddenness that left her reeling. Radiant light poured through the hole, and Catrin approached it with apprehension. Beyond lay an unknown reality, the part of her that truly understood how her body worked yet was somehow blind to her immediate need. She knew her body could create a clot to stop the bleeding and fill the wounds with scar tissue, but it did not seem to realize the imminent need, for her blood still flowed.

  Applying her will, she pressed her face to the wall and shouted into the hole, "Stop the bleeding. Heal my leg." She sensed something akin to acknowledgment and pulled her face away. With the stone still in her hand, she brought it back up to the hole, but before she could slide it into place, she looked through and saw a stunningly beautiful face staring back with an equally awestruck expression.

  Thrilled and terrified, Catrin stared for a moment, memorizing every detail, every curve and highlight, but then from somewhere came a warning, little more than a sense of danger. Closing her eyes, Catrin shoved the stone back into place. Only then did she realize the damage she had done: None of the mortar remained. Light streamed around the stone. Then the stone wiggled.

  It had never occurred to Catrin that her subconscious might want to communicate with her just as badly, but when the stone suddenly fell from its hole, she scrambled to replace it, trying to remember how mortar was made. Perhaps, she thought, if she could think of how to make mortar, she could conjure up some to fill in around the brick. It seemed strange to think of making mortar in her mind for what was only her visual representation of something, but it felt very real to her.

  Stuffing the stone back into the hole, she tried her best to imagine up some mortar, and she cheered when she finally succeeded. Just as she reached up to apply her mortar, though, her heart leaped; the stone slowly moved away from her and fell through to the other side.

  Light poured through, and Catrin's curiosity soared, but the warnings returned, and she slammed her hands, full of mortar, over the hole. In her mind, she stayed there, guarding her meager barrier and hoping her mental wall would not come tumbling down. Sleep overcame her, and her dreams were filled with visions of Enoch and Ain Giest laughing at her.

  * * *

  Stretching himself between a branch and a rock outcropping, Chase prayed he didn't slip. Keeping himself from looking down was difficult; it was an almost morbid fascination, wondering if the fall below would kill him or just leave him broken and wounded.

  With a grunt, he thrust himself across the divide and dug his fingers into the first impression he could find. Slamming his body against the stone, he used his knees and toes to keep his grip. When he gained the top of the outcropping, he leaned against the cliff wall behind him, regaining his breath, and looked down.

  Losing himself in the vertigo, he let his mind go where it would. Visions of the Gholgi attack were etched in his memory. Osbourne and Brother Vaughn had both been hurt, and he'd sent Strom back to the ship with them, for protection. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now he was alone and had no idea of how to find Catrin, if she still lived. Unwilling to believe her dead, he pressed on, staying to the higher reaches to avoid most of the wildlife, though he wondered if the climbing was any less dangerous than what waited below.

  Nightfall brought overwhelming despair since it meant he would not find Catrin this day; she was lost to him. Tears dripped from his nose, and he wiped them away angrily. They were not defeated yet. Catrin still lived, he told himself, and he made himself believe it.

  Chapter 12

  In the deepest shadows, fire, both terrible and magnificent, can spring to life.

  --Casicus Mod, coal miner

  * * *

  Encumbered by the basket of fish he carried, Prios climbed the loose rocks with great care. Belegra had ordered everything he caught saved, but Prios filled his stomach while away from the archmaster's watchful eyes. These days they seemed to see only what they wanted to see, and Prios was determined to take every advantage.

  Catrin was near; he could feel her presence. Despite Belegra's madness, he could not risk reaching out to her. The last time he had, Belegra had fallen on him, demanding to know what he'd been doing, full of suspicion and rage. Prios had endured the beating and stuck to his original tale: he'd been searching for their foes, keeping watch for danger. Belegra had not believed him, but other matters distracted him, and Prios lived in fear of the moment Belegra remembered his tre
achery.

  Staring up at the heights, he prepared himself to play the role of faithful slave, though it sickened him more each time. Soon he would be free, all this but a memory. Reaching the ancient stone stair, which provided sure footing, Prios barely looked where he was going.

  Waiting inside the gaping cavern, Belegra paced, impatience clear in his posture. "Is that all you've brought back? That is barely enough for half a day. When Vedregon returns, I'll have you flogged for your failure!"

  Prios did not bother to tell him that Mark Vedregon was dead, along with all the other soldiers and the rest of the cadre. Those who had not been killed by the Gholgi or disease where taken by the sea. Prios had tried to tell Belegra the truth, but he refused to hear; instead, Belegra always claimed he would have Prios beaten or tortured when the soldiers returned.

  Taking the basket of fish to the hole in the cavern wall, Prios prepared to feed Kyrien.

  "He's too weak to come to you. Get in there and feed him," Belegra said. His eyes wild with fervor, he licked his lips.

  Prios could not help feeling that Belegra wanted Kyrien to eat him instead of the fish. Leaving the basket right under the hole, he straddled it and pulled himself into the foul-smelling chamber. The hole was barely large enough to admit the basket, but he yanked it through. Kyrien cowered in the back of the chamber, his green-flecked gold eyes fixed on Prios, following his every movement.

  Dumping the basket not far from Kyrien's head, Prios backed away. Kyrien sniffed the fish and snorted, then smacked Prios with his tail.

  "Clean up while you're in there," Belegra said.

  Prios did as he was told, despite every instinct telling him to flee the crowded cell. Kyrien hated him, and Prios feared the beast would rip him to shreds if he ever overcame his fear of Belegra. For now, Kyrien simply cowered in the back of his cell, and when the sun was high, he wailed.

  * * *

  Filled with horror, Catrin awoke, still leaning against the mass of granite. When she tried to rise, her body was sluggish. Slowly, she felt the blood returning to her limbs, and she stood. Echoing through the vale was a haunting call; like the cries of a wounded animal, it was filled with despair and, at times, an odd glimmer of hope. Hearing it made Catrin want to cry.

  In a sudden rush, memories of the previous day overwhelmed her, and she looked down at her leg. Her leggings were tattered and missing the section she had cut away. Beneath were scabbed gashes where her open wounds had been. The flesh around them was pink and smooth, but she could move without a great deal of pain, and she wondered if her memories could be real. Had she truly healed herself?

  Closing her eyes, she located her center then the wall that stood between her conscious and subconscious minds. No matter how hard she tried, she could not make the wall whole again. Always one stone was missing, and the mortar that filled the hole was riddled with cracks and fissures that allowed the brilliant light to pour through. With a deep breath, she made herself open her eyes. She was still alive, and she chose to treat every new moment as a gift. She should be dead--she knew it, and now she needed to make the best of what she had.

  The keening wails continued, and Catrin firmed her resolve. She would find the poor creature and ends its misery. Even as the thought entered her mind, Catrin sensed a shift in the energy around her, and the vale was transformed. No more were the grasses littered with boulders; in their places stood dragons. Tall and proud, they surrounded her.

  In awestruck fascination, Catrin watched the only remaining boulder, the one she had slept against, unfold itself. Granite-colored skin shifted and moved and began to take on a greenish hue, as if reflecting the grasses around it. A massive head on a serpentine neck moved in front of Catrin's face and oscillated back and forth in a hypnotic motion.

  Free him.

  Overwhelming compulsion came with the raw emotion of the message. It was not like the way Belegra controlled his cadre, it was more like a melding of intentions. The strength of the desire blended with Catrin's own desire, and her will to accomplish the task became one with the dragon she faced.

  Raising itself up to its full height, standing on its two powerful legs, the majestic dragon spread its wings and moved its head back down to Catrin. With a touch more gentle than she would have imagined possible, it pushed her with its rock-hard maw.

  Go.

  The command was palpable, but Catrin refused to leave just yet. She remembered the sensations she had felt the night before and the messages she had perceived. Looking the dragon in the eye, Catrin drew herself up with all the courage she could muster. "Thank you," she said. "All of you."

  The dragons all raised a keening wail to match that of the one she heard from above, and Catrin left them behind, determined to succeed. Following the sound proved difficult in a place where the echoes had a life of their own, but she moved with purpose, using her staff to provide stability in rough places.

  As she drew nearer, sound overwhelmed her other senses, and for a time, she moved without seeing, only the call guiding her. Looking up, she saw the side of a mountain covered with winding stairs and crumbling roadways. At seemingly random intervals, grand entranceways dotted the rock face. The wails came from one such entranceway, high above where she stood. Squinting, she followed the stair with her eyes. From the high entranceways down to the winding terrace where all the stairways originated, she traced it. When she reached what she thought was the correct stair, it showed no evidence of recent use, and Catrin climbed with little confidence, not knowing if she were taking the right path.

  Despite places where the stair was nearly perfectly preserved, there were places it barely existed. In one such place, Catrin came to a gap. Below was a sheer drop to the vale floor. Driven beyond reason by her desire to end this quest, she leaped across the divide. As she soared through the air, her arms windmilled. The heel of her staff struck rock before she landed. The impact sent her spinning, and she nearly lost her grip on the staff. Off balance, she struck the rock hard, driving the wind from her lungs. Her legs still hanging over the ledge, gravity began to pull at her, and she scrambled to find a handhold. With her left hand, she found a small crack and dug her fingers in, crying out from the pain. With her other hand, she drove the tip of her staff into another nearby crack. Using all her strength, she pulled herself up. When she finally gained the relative safety of the stair, she allowed herself only a moment of rest before resuming her climb.

  Higher up, in a place where two sets of stairs came close together, Catrin saw parts of the other stair that were new and hastily constructed. That was the stair Belegra and his men used.

  Trying to decide between stealth and a clear path, Catrin finally decided on a safe climb; she would have to face Belegra one way or another, and she doubted surprise would give her any substantial advantage. Climbing between the two stairs was dangerous, but she hoped the rest of the climb would be easier. Movement and shouting from above gave her a start, and she flattened herself against the rock, hoping not to be seen.

  Whoever it was went back inside, and Catrin completed the climb to the newly repaired stair. Following it up, she was constantly alert for signs of movement, and she thought she saw something moving through the trees below. Perhaps, she thought, it was Belegra's men. Knowing she might have only a short time before the soldiers returned, she climbed with haste, throwing caution aside.

  When she reached the top of the stair, the wails were like a physical assault, but as soon as she stepped toward the entrance, it stopped. With the light behind her and relative darkness within, Catrin stood momentarily blinded.

  "So, the Herald Witch has come to witness my triumph!" Archmaster Belegra said, his voice grating and raw.

  Stepping into the chamber, Catrin barely noticed the exquisite carvings that adorned the entranceway or the ancient sculptures that lined the walls. It was the object in Archmaster Belegra's hands that drew her attention: a chunk of dragon ore the size of a melon that sparkled even in the dimness of the mountain h
all.

  A foul smell filled the air, and Catrin turned to a place where a doorway had recently been walled in and reinforced. Only a small hole let her see what was within. Pinkish and sickly, the dragon looked very unlike those she had seen in the vale, but there was little doubt as to his true nature. As soon as she looked at him, she knew his name: Kyrien. It came to her like a song filled with joy and life, despite what her eyes told her. His eyes locked with hers, and in that moment, she knew what she had to do. With a deep breath, she drew power from the air and from her staff.

  Quietly and humbly, another reason for her presence emerged from the shadows, his head down and his face concealed within the hood of his robe, Prios came. She knew him the instant he moved, and she turned back to face the one foe she had in the room. "You will enslave and corrupt no more, Belegra. Stand down now or I will attack."

  Hysterical laughter threw him into a brief fit of coughing, but he regained his composure and faced Catrin with sudden clarity in his eyes, which narrowed as they beheld her. Disturbances in his energy field were so intense that it looked to Catrin as if his energy would collapse in on itself. "Burn," he said in a low and unfamiliar voice, as if he were a completely different person. His hands, gripping the dragon ore, sent ropes of fire and lightning sailing through the air toward Catrin, but she was not unprepared and created a shielding sphere around herself.

  His attack struck her barrier with a violent impact that sent her reeling, nearly pushing her over the nearby ledge. Maintaining the protective sphere sapped her strength, and Catrin knew she needed to launch an attack of her own. Momentarily dropping her defenses, she hurled blue lightning at Archmaster Belegra, sending it with all the rage she possessed. Howling, she lashed out again and again, but he brushed her attacks aside as if they were little more than annoyances.