The feeling she was being watched made her look about, and not far away, she saw the mental wall that separated her conscious and subconscious minds. Light streamed through the hole, which was now significantly larger, and for a moment Catrin became alarmed. Then from behind a mighty greatoak stepped what looked like a goddess in the flesh. She came, and Catrin gazed upon her own subconscious with awe.
"You are ready now."
"Who are you?" Catrin asked, terrified because she already knew the answer.
"I am you. I am Catrin. Perhaps, to avoid confusion, you would like to call me Elma?" her alternate self asked with a knowing smile.
Catrin's fear was overcome, finding humor and ease in its place. "All right, Elma. I have been afraid of you because I don't want to go insane or hurt anyone. And . . . there is something else . . ."
"I know," Elma said. "I cannot tell you what mysteries lie ahead, for I do not know, but I can assure you that I will do no harm. History does not always repeat its mistakes. If you do not trust life, then your line is condemned either way. Whether you choose to have children whose own children might die terrible deaths or if you decide the risk of passing on a deadly trait is too great, the result will be the same. Only if you give life an opportunity will there be a chance."
Elma's cold but practical logic penetrated Catrin's mind, and she came to see truth in it.
"You are ready now."
"Ready for what?"
"Shirlafawna gave you a gift. It was left in my keeping, and now I present it to you. You are ready."
"I remember Shirlafawna's gift," Catrin said, confused. "After I talked with her, I could see the other dryads."
Elma laughed. "That gift you gave yourself. You took a great risk when you chose to believe. Seeing the dryads was a reward you made for yourself."
Catrin sat in wonder, waiting with unbridled anticipation, as Elma approached. In her hands she held a globe of orange light that pulsed from within. Holding it to Catrin's forehead, Elma pressed with her delicate fingers, and the globe began to slide forward. Warmth and understanding flowed through Catrin. The globe entered her and became a part of her, albeit a part she was yet to comprehend. Her staff thrummed under her fingers, and a wave of power washed over her. Invigorated and charged, Catrin felt as if she'd been made anew.
"We must prepare now," Elma said, and Catrin did not have to ask for what. Visions filled her mind, images of death and destruction for all mankind. "We cannot allow this to happen."
Catrin nodded, and as she did, Elma walked between the greatoaks and gradually faded until she could be seen no more. Slowly, Catrin's awareness of her physical body returned, and she opened her eyes only to find near complete darkness. Only the blush of the false dawn gave any hint of shape or form, but then the sun peeked above the mountains. Fingers of light caressed the land, and Catrin felt the warmth on her face. Around her the world sang of a new day, a new chance for life. When she focused closer, finally seeing the staff before her and a serpentine tail wrapped around her, she gasped.
Kyrien met her eyes as she craned her neck to see. His eyes sparkled with inner light and excitement, and he nudged her back to the staff. There, she found a treasure beyond any reckoning or expectation. Shirlafawna's gift was in the form of life. From the staff sprouted fresh, green growth, and under each voluminous leaf, was a tiny, golden acorn. Twenty-four in all, there were enough to replant the entire grove. Catrin's heart sang. The fates had been kind to her, allowing her the chance to undo one of her greatest mistakes.
In that moment she thought of Barabas. His last action had been to prevent her death. He had sacrificed his life so she could live, so she could behold the beauty of a new day. She remembered all her fallen friends, all those who had helped her despite the dangers and had paid the ultimate price. She remembered what they all had done, and she loved them for it.
Epilogue
At the center of the new grove, Nat stood, stupefied. Never had he imagined such a thing. In the center of the stone, Catrin's staff--the staff his family had guarded for generations--stood, embedded in the rock itself, and it bloomed. It produced no more acorns, only flowering buds of purple and blue, but it lived and grew! Shrouded by branches, leaves, and flowers, the shaft was barely visible. Nat had to get down on his knees and peer under the growth to see the shaft, and the steely gaze of the dragon met him, its gemmed eyes pulsing with an inner glow. Protruding from the heel, the wooden shaft looked more lustrous than ever, though it seemed no larger than he remembered it.
Evenly spaced, the new greatoaks grew, lean and straight. It would take thousands of years for the mighty leviathans to gain their predecessors' majesty, but the process had begun, and now it was a task only time could achieve. To know that some future generation would come here and see greatoaks that had sprung from the staff his father had given into his care all those years ago gave Nat an immense feeling of accomplishment along with gratitude to Catrin.
Neenya stood in awe of everything she witnessed on the Godfist. Nat had wanted to protect her from the rest of the world, to allow her to live her simpler life among the Gunata, but civilization encroached on the lands held by native peoples, and no longer were the Gunata innocent or ignorant. It was Neenya who convinced him to come back to the Godfist because she feared for his life. Now they were here, and he wondered what he could do. How next would unexpected events overturn his world?
* * *
"She's ready," Fasha said.
Benjin wasn't certain if she was referring to the Dragon's Wing or Gwen. At five years old, his daughter was a roaring terror wrapped in innocence. One look from her big, blue eyes melted his heart. He was helpless. Running his hands over the polished wood, he looked for imperfections, trying to decide if they needed another coat of sealer and a few more weeks of polishing before making their sea trials.
"She's ready," Fasha insisted.
Still, Benjin made one final inspection of the Dragon's Wing. Carved from a single greatoak, it was like no other ship on all of Godsland. While Fasha and Catrin had been pregnant, Benjin and Prios had worked, carving the masthead, which extended back along the sides of the ship. Modeled after Kyrien, the ship looked as if it were flying, even as it sat in dry dock.
For a moment, Benjin stopped to revel in his new life. Letting go of Catrin had been difficult, but he knew Prios would take good care of her. It was on their wedding day that Benjin's life forever changed. With tears in her eyes, Fasha had asked him to marry her. She asked him. He still couldn't believe it. For weeks, he'd been trying to find the words to ask her, all the while helping organize Prios and Catrin's wedding. He'd been afraid of somehow making Catrin's day less special and never found the right moment to ask. Fasha had chosen the moment, and he loved her for it.
Catrin's wedding day was filled with tears of joy, and the ceremony touched everyone who attended. Later, when Benjin was asked to speak, he could no longer contain his news, and though he was terrified, he announced his engagement to Fasha. The celebration that followed was one he would never forget.
The familiar sound of bare feet running across the deck alerted Benjin to a coming storm.
"Are we ready, Daddy? Can we go now? Momma says I'm going to love the sea. Can we go now, Daddy? Can we? Please?" The last question was punctuated by one of Gwen's most practiced and effective looks.
"Yes. We can go now." Benjin gave the order, and horses were brought in. Hooked to thick lines that ran through a massive pulley, the horses pulled.
Unlike ships built from many small pieces, the Dragon was a whole. She didn't creak or moan as she slipped along the guide planks. She entered the water with what sounded like a sigh of relief. In the water, she looked much different than Benjin had imagined. Her wingtips, though close and tight to the ship, soared just above the water line, making the ship look vulnerable where Benjin knew it was strong.
Using Brother Vaughn as his voice, Prios often joked that the carving they did made the wood stronger. As if the
y were peeling away the bits that were hiding its true form. Looking at it now, Benjin couldn't believe he'd been a part of creating it.
"Fasha, my wife," Benjin said as he wrapped her in his arms, "I love you, and I think you should be captain of this ship."
"I'll need a cook," she said, and they both laughed.
Gwen charged by at full speed. "Can we leave now?" she asked without slowing.
Together, Benjin and Fasha raised the sails and let the wind drive the Dragon's Wing for the first time. Without a sound, save for the flap of canvas, she sliced through the water.
"Wait!" a voice carried across the water. "Hey! Wait for me!"
A loud splash followed, and Benjin turned to look. Then he just shook his head and laughed. He'd forgotten that he promised Jessub he could come on the maiden voyage. Every few days, the boy would show up and check on their progress, and he must have known they were getting close. Now he swam toward them. Fasha slowed the ship as they waited for Jessub.
Benjin dropped the boarding net over the side, never having expected to use it so soon. "Up you go," he said as he pulled a soaked and exhausted Jessub aboard.
"You were gonna leave without me," Jessub accused.
"It's my fault," Fasha said as she threw Jessub a towel. "I convinced him to sail today. I should have told him to wait for you."
"Yes, ma'am," he said, and Benjin barely contained his laughter. For all his energy and bravado, Jessub feared Fasha's wrath more than anything, which, Benjin supposed, only showed that the boy had good sense.
"Come on, Jessub!" Gwen demanded as she led him to the prow. "Look! I'm flying," she said as she stuck her arms out to the sides. A moment later, she was bathed in shadow. Kyrien soared low over the prow, just above Gwen and Jessub.
"Wow," Jessub said, his jaw hanging slack.
"We're flying!" Gwen said.
Benjin watched in amazement, hoping the likeness would not offend Kyrien. Unlike the tales of dragon riders, Catrin had no control over Kyrien. He was a free creature, and he went only where he chose. It was a fact that Benjin knew bothered Catrin and terrified others, but there seemed no way to change the dragon. In truth, Benjin liked him just as he was.
As if to show his approval, Kyrien rested his chin on the carved image of his head and flew with his eyes closed, letting the motion of the ship guide him. Benjin watched in amazement. A moment later Kyrien trumpeted and tipped his wings. Soaring high into the sky, he disappeared from sight.
In deep water, Fasha raised more sail, and the Dragon's Wing flew across the water--free.
* * *
The Watering Hole bustled with activity, and Miss Mariss carried platters laden with food between the many crowded tables. Warm weather had blessed them with record crops, and finally their livestock were plentiful again. Children were born, and the towns of Lowerton and Upperton grew faster than anyone could have imagined. Martik's marvels of engineering made farming possible in otherwise impossible places, and it seemed starvation was no longer a threat.
One of the guests yelled for Miss Mariss and she turned. Prios stood near the doorway, his slate in hand. "Sinjin?" it said.
"That boy best not be in my kitchens again. He'll eat us all back into starvation," Miss Mariss said before she stormed into the kitchen. From behind a cutting block, a small hand reached up and grabbed three pieces of bacon. "You'd best get outta my kitchen, boy!"
With a guilty smile, he darted from the kitchen. Miss Mariss chased him out with a broom, but she was not fast enough to catch him. Prios stood shaking his head as Sinjin darted out the doors and ran down the streets, eating his bacon without slowing.
* * *
"Do you really think we're going to discover anything?" Strom asked Osbourne as they hauled more sand through the halls.
"Who knows?" Osbourne said. "Milo says if we look hard enough, we're bound to find something."
"All I know is we've been through at least fifty bags of sand already, and I'm getting tired of carrying them."
"Me too."
As they returned to the mighty hall where Catrin conducted her experiments, Milo pulled a crucible from the furnace and began to pour it into the mold. Strom watched as Catrin waited for the exact right moment to insert the sliver of dragon ore. She looked older, as if the weight of her responsibilities had aged her more quickly than the rest. Still there was strength about her . . . and determination. She never gave up on one of her ideas; at most one might be set aside for further contemplation.
Strom wondered what it was that made her so sure things were going to go badly in the future. Things were going so well, he thought perhaps they should all take some time to enjoy themselves. Instead he was hauling sand to the furnace. Osbourne gasped beside him and Strom watched. Each time she had tried, Catrin had produced a brilliant light that lasted only a few breaths, but this time, as the molten glass captured the charged sliver in its embrace, a warm, steady glow radiated from it. Even as it cooled, the light continued to shine. No one spoke for a long time until the glass was cool enough to touch.
Catrin picked it up in her hand and smiled. "Sometimes the smallest things can make the biggest difference."
About the Author
Born in Salem, New Jersey, Brian spent much of his childhood on the family farm, where his family raised and trained Standardbred racehorses. Brian lives with his wife, Tracey, in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains. After years in the world of Internet technology, the writing of this trilogy has been a dream come true for Brian and what feels like a return to his roots.
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