The Balance of Power (Godsland Series: Books Four, Five, and Six)

by Rathbone, Brian

  "Would you like the honor?" Pelivor asked. "I'd love to study your technique."

  "Actually I've only done it a few times, and that was years ago. Please, show me what you've learned."

  Pelivor nodded and Catrin noticed how much more confident he'd become. Not arrogant or vain, he was simply comfortable being who he was and secure in his knowledge and skills. He'd taught Catrin to speak Zjhonlander and how to read High Script, and there was no doubt he was among the most educated men she knew. Seeing him spread his arms and open himself to Istra's power made Catrin beam with pride. In that, too, he exerted calm control.

  "You should have seen him the first time," Kenward said, seemingly reading her mind. "He nearly sunk us."

  Pelivor turned his head and raised an eyebrow, and Kenward went silent, save a quiet chuckle.

  The Slippery Eel gracefully left the water and turned on Pelivor's will, gliding just above the water's surface. Catrin watched him, wide eyed. When she'd first discovered the ability to make a ship fly, Catrin had been able to achieve little more than raising the ship up and riding the wind. What Pelivor did was much more impressive as he seemed to command the wind. Even as ferals continued to swoop and dive, he maneuvered the ship as easily as if he held the wheel but with more agility than any ship's captain could ever have hoped for. It did not seem that Pelivor had access to even a fraction of the amount of energy Catrin could pull from the air around her, yet he exerted such fine control that he did not need as much power to accomplish the task at hand. Catrin felt clumsy and inefficient after watching his precise control.

  Standing beside Pelivor, she took his hand. There was no lurch, as Catrin remembered from when she'd been interrupted. Truly Pelivor had found mastery where she was inexpert and required the use of brute force. Slowly she opened her energy to him, and he turned to her, his eyes now wide. "You have so much!"

  "And you need so little," Catrin said. "You amaze me."

  Slowly Catrin began to see the intricacies of what he did, the way he created a latticework of energy that was equally strong yet required much less effort than Catrin's wing formations had. She considered lending him more energy, but he did not need it. Instead she concentrated on what she could do to make the ship go faster. Her efforts sent cargo shifting, and Kenward held on to the railing.

  "Here we go again," Bryn said, and Kenward grinned.

  Pelivor observed for a while. Then he interrupted her. "Everything you do is so . . . big. Let me show you something. I can't do it for long, but I think perhaps you could. He took her to the stern, where a strange apparatus had been erected. Resting on a pedestal of iron-reinforced timber, a hollow tube of wood looked to have been carved from a single tree trunk. There was nothing else, no moving parts and no ornamentation, just a strangely shaped tube of wood with a flare in the fore opening and a smaller opening in the aft.

  Catrin watched closely as Pelivor took a long breath and drew as deeply as he could. Dividing his attention had a negative impact on the amount of lift his latticework structures provided, and the ship seemed more like it was bouncing across the waves, like a flat stone skipping over still water. When he applied his will to the air in front of the flare, things changed. Air clung to air, and as he forced it through the chamber, more came of its own volition, allowing him to compound the amount of force generated.

  The effort came at a price, and Pelivor soon had to stop. The Slippery Eel slowed abruptly as the hull once again found the water, and Pelivor dropped to the deck. "Do you see?"

  "I do," Catrin said. "I'm sorry I did not help you. Are you well?"

  "I'll be fine in a moment. For some reason, I can't seem to do two things at once. Perhaps with more practice."

  "You did very well. Already I'm learning from you."

  Pelivor smiled.

  Kenward watched the skies. "That burst of speed gave us a bit of time, but the dragons are gaining on us."

  Catrin turned to see a writhing mass of darkness rolling in and out of the clouds, some attacking and others defending. It was aerial chaos, and the thought of being on dragonback during such a battle made her stomach hurt. Perhaps that was why Kyrien had brought the ship to her instead.

  Grubb, the ship's cook, brought Catrin and Pelivor some of his restorative broth, which they accepted eagerly. It was always wise to take what Grubb offered; his skills in the galley were legendary, and Catrin was not disappointed. Though little more than a light soup, the meal warmed her belly and brought clarity to her thoughts.

  In a short time, the broth was gone, and Pelivor turned to Catrin. "I suppose I should get us back in the air. If you want to try working the aft, just let me know, and I'll do my best to maintain control."

  Seeing Kenward and the crew looking equal parts excited and terrified, Catrin grinned. "Let's do it!" Those words sent everyone into motion. Anything loose was secured, and the crew found places where they could hold on.

  "I've waited a long time to say this." Kenward raised his voice and said, "Catrin, Pelivor, let's fly!"

  Pelivor exerted his will with the same level of quiet confidence, and Catrin did what she could to emulate his control. Slowly she gathered air and forced it through the narrow chamber. A low howling sound grew in volume and pitch as the stream intensified. Soon it was accompanied by another sound that matched its intensity.

  "Woo hoo!" Kenward bellowed as the ship moved forward faster than anyone could have imagined. The sails exceeded the speed of the wind and slowed the ship rather than speed it along, and Kenward shouted for the crew to trim them.

  "You're doing it!" Pelivor shouted, sounding triumphant. "I knew it would work!"

  Catrin looked back from the stern, watching as a spray of water rolled behind them, curling in on itself, racing into the space that had held the ship only a moment before. Dragons still filled the skies behind them, but the battle was breaking up; feral and regent dragons alike retreated to the clouds. The sun sank below the horizon, clouds obscured the moon and comets, and darkness enshrouded them. Knowing it would be foolish to fly blind, Catrin eased their speed, and soon Pelivor lowered them back into the water.

  "The landings are the hardest part," he said as his shoulders heaved from the effort.

  Though she knew she should rest, Catrin's body throbbed with excitement and anxiety. It was a heady mixture that she knew would prevent sleep.

  "The seas only know how good it is to see you, Catrin," Kenward said as he wrapped her in a warm blanket. He and Bryn guided Catrin and Pelivor into the galley, and Grubb appeared with food more substantial than the broth they had earlier. Catrin was grateful since flying ships, or even propelling them, gave her a mighty hunger, and hearty fish steaks were just what she needed. From the wonderful taste, she knew Grubb had not gone light on the herbs and seasoning.

  "How did you learn to fly the ship?" Catrin asked Pelivor when he'd finished his meal. For the first time since she'd arrived, Catrin saw him flush, and he seemed slightly embarrassed.

  "It took quite a bit of time and many tries, but Kenward kept explaining to me what you had done, at least to the best of his ability. Finally I started building models of the ship and I played with them in the wind." This statement seemed to embarrass him, but Catrin admired his creativity. "One day I found something that worked, and after countless failures, I found some success. Kenward, of course, wanted more, and I began practicing every day. Each time, I got a little better. And now . . ." He shrugged.

  "You've become a master," Catrin finished for him.

  "He doesn't drop us from the sky as often as he used to," Kenward corrected. "I almost had to throw him overboard for trying to fly us into low-lying clouds. Who knows what flying through clouds would be like? We'd be blind and we might even drown!"

  Pelivor flushed and would not meet Catrin's eyes.

  "It's wet, true, and very difficult to see, but you can breathe just fine," Catrin said.

  Kenward involuntarily spit out the wine he'd been drinking and broke into a fit o
f coughing. When he'd recovered, he said, "When will I ever learn not to try to match wits or questionable behavior with you, m'lady?"

  Catrin shook her head. Coming from him, that was no compliment.

  "Did you really fly through the clouds?" Pelivor asked.

  Catrin told the tale of her and Kyrien's flight from the Godfist. It was difficult to get through without crying, but she managed--just.

  "We nearly made it to the Godfist," Kenward said, "but Bryn spotted dragons--the nasty-looking black ones--and we turned back. The devils gave chase, and it took everything Pelivor had to keep us in one piece. The greenish ones like Kyrien came not a day too soon. That was when I started dreaming about you being stuck on an island."

  "I'm glad you came," Catrin said.

  "None of this lot believed me," Kenward said for what seemed the twelfth time, and Pelivor rolled his eyes. "So why are we going back to the Firstland?"

  "What?" she said, standing up.

  "Well, every time I dreamed about you being on that island--sometimes even when I was wide awake, mind you--I'd always see us sailing back to the Firstland. I figured you'd know why."

  Catrin said nothing for a time, every part of her conflicted. Nothing mattered to her more than getting back to Sinjin and Prios, but she had no idea what had become of those within Dragonhold or even if the defenses had withstood the assault. If they still lived--Catrin's chest ached at that thought--her chances of getting inside were dismal. Letting their defenses down to admit her and Kyrien would open the doors for the hoard of demons, and Catrin did not want to put her loved ones in greater peril, yet staying away went against every instinct she possessed. She clenched the top rail of her chair and stared down at the table.

  "Do you want to go back to the Godfist?" Kenward asked.

  "Yes," Catrin said.

  Kenward sucked in a deep breath. "I'm not sure we should do that."

  "Then why did you ask?" Catrin snapped. "If you're just going to sail to the Firstland regardless, then don't bother asking me."

  "I'm sorry, Catrin. I just wanted to know what you desired while still advising you on the dangers--"

  "I know, Kenward. I'm sorry. It's just . . . Sinjin. How do I abandon my son? My husband? My people?"

  "I don't know," he said, her pain reflected in his eyes.

  Not able to look at her companions, Catrin gripped her chair and looked down at its seat.

  "I'll take you home if that is your wish, Catrin," Kenward said.

  Silence hung between them for a time. Catrin made no move to respond, and Kenward started to stand up from the table.

  "I can't leave them behind," she said. "Even if it takes me to my death, I must go back."

  Kenward swallowed. "I understand."

  "I don't want you to take me, though. I'll call for Kyrien, and he can take me home."

  "But how will you fly if you no longer have your saddle? You said that was the only thing that kept you on his back."

  "I don't know. We'll just have to find a way."

  "I don't know either, Cat, but I've seen dragons fight, and I don't think you want to be anywhere near when that happens. Maybe you should let me sail you home."

  Again silence.

  A feeling crept over Catrin, but she pushed it away, not wanting to let anything alter her course. She was a mother; nothing could stand in her way, but that feeling, which fostered doubt, would not be ignored. Gripping the chair so hard that she thought she might snap it, a thought occurred to Catrin. "Kenward, what is your cargo?"

  "Spices, seeds, a variety of things for homesick Greatlanders living on the Godfist, and a pair of boilin' heavy stone thrones for your highness."

  "That's it. I can use one of the thrones to travel back to the Godfist."

  "Oh, no," Kenward said. "I'm not going through that again. The last time you tried that, you nearly died. And how do you think I'd feel with your dead carcass on my deck? No, sir. Not me. Nope. Besides, you can't get to those thrones. They're acting as ballasts and are underneath the rest of the cargo."

  "Surely we can manage to get one of them on deck," Catrin said.

  "No. It took ten men and a hoist to get them where they are, and even if we could move one up here, I wouldn't. That would make us top heavy, and we'd likely capsize. I'm sorry. No."

  * * *

  "You owe me," Kenward said hours later, looking more agitated than Catrin had ever seen him.

  Shifting, she tried to find a way to get comfortable on the cold, hard stone. She reminded herself that the throne was designed not for comfort but to act as an anchor to her physical form, which would guide her back to her body.

  "I can't believe I let you talk me into this. What was I thinking?"

  Looking out at clear, blue sky, Catrin knew better than to smile. The hastily cut hole in Kenward's deck provided just enough of a view for her purposes. Bales of herbs had been stacked as strategically as possible to provide the proper acoustics and the separation of the two individual chants. Many of Kenward's crew, including Kenward himself, knew both sides of the chant from their harrowing voyage to the Firstland in search of Archmaster Belegra. Those memories brought fear and mourning, and Catrin tried to put that out of her mind as she concentrated.

  Before her, Pelivor knelt, looking up into her eyes. "I'll attend you. Just as I did all those years ago."

  Catrin smiled. "I know I can count on you." She also nearly laughed when she heard Kenward complaining that he should just start keeping drums on his ships so he would not have to constantly make them from whatever was in his hold.

  Voices rose slowly on either side, each with their own cadence and melody that uncannily merged into seamless harmony. When the drums did start, Catrin was impressed by the amount of vibration she felt. The crew had done well. Those vibrations allowed her to slip beyond her mortal shield, and Catrin flew free in a rush of exaltation. The open sky welcomed her, and she soared through it. Behind her, a silvery thread ran back to her waiting form. She, Prios, and Brother Vaughn had been right; it was indeed the mixture of metal and stone that created the anchor effect. Had the thrones ever reached the Godfist, everything could have been different. Catrin and Prios would have had the ability to safely travel astrally anywhere they wished; they could have been so much better prepared. Instead, she and Prios had nearly been killed just trying to travel a short distance to save their son. Catrin did not blame Kenward for the horrors they faced, but she did shiver at the memory of them and wished again that Kenward could have come sooner.

  Instinct guided her as she sailed straight toward Sinjin, her course direct and unerring. The waves raced beneath her, a feeling of bliss nearly overcoming her as she flew. Such freedom! Twisting and spinning, she reveled in the glory of being naught but energy, free of burden and driven by pure purpose. Only the nature of that purpose brought Catrin out of her revelry. The thought of the demons that ravaged her homeland brought with it a dangerous odor, and the wind cried afoul. Those who stood against her overwhelmed Catrin's senses; single-minded hatred engulfed her, and it was that obsession that frightened her the most. It was not as if each of them hated her for his own reason. The hatred was homogeneous and felt as if it came from a single, dominating source. An oily and cloying feeling encroached on Catrin, and she felt insignificant and small. Every sense told her that she would be dead already if not for something surrounding her, protecting her.

  No! her spirit cried as she sensed the falseness of the will that was trying to subvert her, and she recoiled, but it pursued her with relentless vigor. Only when another energy came close did the oppression wane, and Catrin could feel Kyrien as he reminded her what it felt like to be truly protected.

  You should not go back . . . yet.

  Catrin wanted to scream at him, to accuse and blame him. Lacking the form to utter the words, she cast angry energy at him, and still he remained unwavering.

  We are not ready to face them . . . yet.

  I cannot abandon them, Catrin wanted to sc
ream.

  The world spun as Kyrien overwhelmed Catrin's senses with a vision, a projection of his thoughts that felt as if they were her own. She experienced not some memory of Kyrien's past; she lived his fears as if they were her own. He bared his soul, showing her the things he knew were to come, as surely as if he were a prophet. The future horrified her, but it was not enough to dissuade her. No one and nothing could convince her to leave Sinjin to his fate. She had to see him. She could sense his fear. He needed her.

  I must go, she thought with all her might.

  Kyrien relented but stayed by her side. When the attack came, he thrust himself in front of her. Catrin screamed as his energy was torn apart.

  Her spirit shouting a reverberating battle cry, Catrin gathered her energy and attacked. The silvery thread that trailed behind her blazed furiously, and energy raced along the thread to devastating effect. Dark forms gathered in the air around her, each twisted and deformed, as if nature itself had been subverted. Such single-minded rage and malevolence was difficult to face, but Catrin's web of lightning knifed through the air, seemingly random in its path, the tendrils were well-defined and tightly wound, which was a product of what Pelivor had taught her. Now she could create larger, more powerful, structures using less energy. When the beams of liquid light struck, they severed the bonds between the demons' spirits and their mortal forms. She could feel them as they were freed from compulsion, freed from a life of torture, and returned to the well from which they'd been sprung. More came, and Catrin attacked, again and again, relentlessly, feeling no pain and no weariness.

  Voices called to her, but she ignored them. She was winning! She could defeat this enemy and find Sinjin and Prios. She was going to win! Kyrien's spirit overwhelmed her as his energy embraced her.

  You must go back now.

  No! I'm winning!

  The cost is too great. You will die. The darkness is drawing you in and can strike at any time. You must turn back now!

  Catrin didn't care if she died. It was not her life that mattered, but the thought of Sinjin growing up without his mother made her soul ache. A sparkling cloud of threatening energy gathered around the Godfist as she approached, and she could feel the pent-up charge waiting for release. What she'd seen so far had been but a feint; what awaited her now was a full assault. The enemy had tested her defenses and knew her weaknesses. Soon she realized that Kyrien had been right, but it was too late, the attack was swift, without further warning, and deadly. Catrin felt something akin to all the air being sucked out of a room, and the darkness reached out all at once, hurtling toward her with the most foul intent. The hatred battered her senses.