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

by Rathbone, Brian

  Getting low in the saddle, Catrin connected with it and the lance she held, her body humming with power, the vibration singing in her ears. Air shimmering around her, she focused on the approaching formation, which was tight and orderly. Reaching out from them with deadly intent, red lightning tested Catrin's formidable defenses. She waited until they were so close that they could not turn away before she launched a single, concentrated attack. A craterous implosion again turned the skies themselves into a potent weapon. Ferals folded like dried husks and dropped from the sky--all, that was, save two.

  With a suddenness that made it seem surreal to Catrin, a dragon and rider appeared beneath. The rider's hood was blown back, and his mottled gray flesh could be seen within. His madness was complete, and he hurled insanity at her. There was no pain, no fire, no iron; there was only disorienting madness. Where was she again? What was she supposed to be doing?

  The questions took only an instant to cross her mind, but that instant was all the time the feral needed to close the gap between them. The feral sailed toward Kyrien's exposed belly, knowing it would have no trouble killing an unconscious dragon.

  Power pulsed along the lance Catrin held, and she hoped her control of their flight was sufficient. Doing as she had done so many years before on the Slippery Eel, Catrin created a wing structure that slowed them. By applying this to only one wing, she caused them to suddenly spiral downward and directly into the feral's path. There was no time for dragon or rider to avoid the collision, and Catrin thrust out with the lance. The gleaming weapon danced with energy, and power leaped from its tip before it touched the breast of that mighty feral dragon. Momentum carried both dragons forward, and the lance's impact pressed Catrin backward until the back of her head touched Kyrien's scales. Feeling as if her legs might break, Catrin watched the wild-eyed feral impale itself.

  The deeper the lance sank, the more slowly the feral approached, until the beast reversed direction and started to fall. Catrin was nearly pulled from the saddle by her grip on the lance. Remembering the demon with the glass lance that had killed the regent queen, Catrin gave the handle a twist. The lance did not shatter as the glass one's had, and the pommel was wrenched from her hands. Along with the dying dragon and its doomed rider, Catrin's lance fell.

  Reeling from the release, Catrin lost sight of the remaining dragon and rider, and she decided it would be best to let that one go. Her vision swam, and Kyrien had only begun to stir. His wings were doing more of the work, but Catrin knew they would fall from the sky if she did not keep them stabilized. She could think of only one place safe for them to land, and she guided them north and east, an odd feeling in her gut, as if none of this were real.

  When the sands of the Arghast Desert came into view, warm air greeted them. Before Catrin could figure out how to safely land, Kyrien returned to full, if tenuous, consciousness and instinctively used the thermals to gain altitude. After taking a few moments to compose himself and convey to Catrin that he would live, Kyrien used the altitude to gain momentum. Soon they were skimming over the desert sand. Catrin's head spun with the sensation of speed as the sands flowed beneath them, broken by plains of rock, some with openings visible in vertical rock faces.

  On the horizon came what Catrin had been looking for: tall peaks surrounding a mostly hidden valley visible from only a specific angle. There waited soft sands and cool water and the tribes of Arghast. Catrin could only hope that they remained loyal to her and would welcome her and Kyrien and protect them. It was, again, more than she wanted to ask of the Arghast, who had already given more than her conscience could bear.

  Lush grasses surrounded emerald green water, and thick-maned horses grazed amid the rich pastures. With a single roar, Kyrien announced their coming, which brought something akin to controlled panic to the valley.

  From what Catrin could see, most of the Arghast within the valley were running to their horses. One horse had broken free from the lines and was subdued only when a fleet-footed man blindfolded the animal with a blanket. From outside of the valley, riders sent long trails of dust into the air as they raced toward the valley entrance.

  Kyrien was sluggish and Catrin knew she would have to guide him in. The peaks surrounding the oasis were so tall that Catrin dreaded the thought of having to descend into the narrow valley from such a great height; it would have been a terrifying experience with Kyrien under complete control. As it was, they were both just barely conscious.

  Men on horseback gathered near the valley entrance, and they pointed wildly into the skies behind her and Kyrien. The meaning was clear from their frantic movements, and when the attack struck, it at least did not come as a complete surprise. Pain exploded all over Catrin's body as every one of her muscles contracted as hard as they could. Red lightning flowed around her, and she lost her grip, only the saddle straps keeping her on Kyrien's back. The shouting from below grew louder, and the Arghast did their best to attack the feral and rider that were bearing down on Catrin and Kyrien. The sound of metal striking dragon scales rang out and echoed within the valley.

  With the smell of burning hair heavy in her nostrils, Catrin did her best to catch her breath. The mountains rushed toward them with what seemed impossible speed, and Catrin prepared herself for impact. They were moving too fast to land outside the oasis, as Catrin had expected they would. Suddenly Catrin's guts moved to her ears as Kyrien executed a drastic maneuver.

  Throwing himself up onto his left wing, he put Catrin in the awkward position of staring sideways at rock formations that were hurtling toward her. Despite her trust in Kyrien, she screamed. Below, his left wingtip nearly touched the valley floor and a trail of dust rose up in its wake. Above, his other wing twitched and flexed as he avoided jagged edges. Ducking as low to the saddle as she could, Catrin prayed Kyrien would find a way to squeeze them both through. In an instant it was over, and Kyrien just as suddenly righted himself.

  Whipped from side to side by the unexpected move, Catrin barely had time to regain her handholds and brace herself before they slammed into cold, green water. At first Kyrien dragged his claws in the water, slowing them, but then he gave a mighty grunt, and they dropped into the lake with the full force of his weight. A tremendous roar filled the air, and a wave of white water flew before them. Still their speed carried them forward, and the air was forced from Catrin's lungs in a whoosh as they slowed.

  Ahead, the water grew shallow before ending at a narrow beach, which opened into a slim pasture of grassland. The pasture was relatively small given the confines of the valley, and horses crowded, trembling against the valley wall. Kyrien skimmed across the water and pitched forward when his chest struck sand. His mighty head stretched into the grassland, and his jaw snapped shut when it struck the ground, most of his body still in the water. The horses beyond were soaked by the wave that preceded the dragon, and they stood trembling and drenched. Kyrien simply gave a great sigh and closed his eyes. If Catrin hadn't been strapped in, she would have fallen from the saddle in a heap.

  The noise level in the valley continued to rise, and Catrin felt every hair on her body stand. Turning to look behind her, she saw the feral and rider break through the narrow valley entrance. Even as they righted themselves, Catrin could feel this man gathering energy and focusing his will. This attack would do more than singe her hair. Drawing a deep breath, Catrin prepared to defend herself, but the tribes of Arghast came to her aid.

  They did not take kindly to those who trespassed on their lands, and this valley was among their most sacred places. Without the benefit of even a saddle, a tribesman rode atop a shining black stallion whose mane and foretop flowed like the sea at night. Long spear in his hand, he slowly but steadily stood on the horse's back, which was nearly level and steady despite the full gallop at which they traveled.

  As the feral approached, its rider stood in his saddle, which gave Catrin a good view of the dark leather that encased his lower torso. It gripped the man in a way that kept him secure while allowin
g for a limited range of motion, just as Catrin's saddle did for her, yet accomplished in a completely different manner. She had only an instant to make this observation as the charging tribesman leaped from atop his horse. In a single, fluid motion, the man flipped in the air directly in front of the feral dragon, which snapped its jaws at him. Just before the dark rider released his attack, the Arghast used both arms to throw the spear with all his might. Red plasma reached out to Catrin in what she knew was the precursor to red lightning, but then the spear struck the dark rider full in the chest. The man's torso appeared to implode from the impact, and only the saddle kept him in place. Still the feral came. The Arghast warrior, rotating in mid air, was about to hit the sand when the feral's tail whipped to the side and struck him like a stone sledge.

  The man who'd saved Catrin's life now lay unmoving in the sand. Overwhelming sadness and responsibility welled up in Catrin, and she nearly swooned. Kyrien, who had not moved a muscle since their landing must have been saving his energy for one last attack. His tail flicked upward and struck the feral an equally devastating blow. The mighty, winged beast reeled. Carrying too much speed, it careened across the valley. With two great flaps of its wings, the feral tried to gain altitude, but it was too late. The dragon slammed into the valley walls with enough force to break a section of stone free from where it had rested for eons.

  The Arghast and their horses retreated from the area, and no one was hurt when the stone and dragon plummeted to the grassland below. Arghast warriors rushed in to make sure the feral dragon was dead.

  For a time, only the nickering of nervous horses filled the air, and Catrin tried to focus her thoughts. Slowly she started to unbuckle herself, but a crowd of Arghast elders erupted into cries begging her to stop. It took a moment for Catrin to understand, but then she stopped. This seemed to appease the men, and they approached slowly, their hoods pulled back to reveal their faces, and their heads bowed to Kyrien, who was oblivious to their homage.

  "May we look at saddle?" a man asked, and Catrin thought she recognized him, but she could not recall his name.

  The only thing she could manage was a lopsided nod.

  The men were quick about their business. They unbuckled Catrin's straps, noting how they worked as they did so. Her head now lolled from side to side, and she was only vaguely aware of the commotion around her. There was a rushing, pounding sound in her ears, and the world took on an amber hue. Catrin slid from the saddle as soon as the straps were loosed, her limbs not responding, and she was glad the men were there to catch her. Younger men and women reached up to her from the water, and she was gently carried to shore, where she was placed in a tent of the finest Arghast silk. Strange faces looked down at her and murmured their concern. Wet cloths were used to wipe away blood and grime. Within moments, Catrin succumbed to sleep.

  * * *

  Durin wasn't sure which was worse, traveling upward on what he now called "the rock of death" or hurtling downward. When at last the stone beneath their feet began to slow its unreasonably fast descent, Durin prepared himself, not certain where they would end up. At least, he thought, it had gotten them out of the reach of Reaver, though bits of rock had rained down on them from his attacks on the mountain itself. Soon, though, Durin was rewarded with a most remarkable view. Before him were mighty fingers of rock reaching down toward the glistening surface of a subterranean lake. The rock of death had delivered them to the God's Eye.

  Having been directly below where he was currently standing hundreds of times, he knew that there was no indication from below that this place even existed, yet a finely carved stone railing stood before him, giving him a commanding view of the God's Eye. Seeing the barges drifting in the water with no one on them gave Durin a terrible feeling in his gut. Something else nagged at his senses, but he couldn't place what it was; still, it bothered him deeply.

  "We need to get Prios to Millie and Mirta," Strom said, "and they are in the kitchens. It looks like there's a hidden stair leading down from here to the keep-side entrance of the God's Eye. The way to the kitchens is most likely still blocked. As much as I hate to say it, I think we are going to have to go back down, and return the way we came."

  "That way is longer," Trinda said.

  Durin turned and gave her a look that clearly said he thought she was daft then began looking at the stones again. “Do you think the one with the straight lines will take us back where we started?"

  The fact that Trinda was the only one likely to have a good answer was less than comforting. She refused to answer, though, and just turned away with a huff. In that moment, there came a splashing sound from below. A chill crept into Durin's blood, and he moved slowly to look over the ledge, doing his best to remain concealed. Strom and Trinda crept to the edge as well. What Durin saw brought him no comfort and confirmed their decision. Several black masses moved through the water then disappeared beneath the surface, leaving only a few ripples to give evidence that they ever existed.

  Strom caught Durin's eye and motioned back to the cylindrical platform. Though he doubted the demons would hear them under water, Durin and the others remained silent. Trying to decide which stone to jump on, Durin considered the one with three concentric circles on it, and one with what looked like a fish on it. Strom looked at Durin and shrugged then made as if he were tossing coin. Going with his gut, Durin waited until Trinda was fully on the circular platform and stepped onto the stone with the straight lines on it. There was no hesitation this time, and it felt as if the stone moved with almost no resistance and would simply keep on falling. When it finally stopped, Durin stumbled from the suddenness of it. Then the entire cylinder began to slowly descend. This, Durin could deal with; he never again wanted to experience anything like their trips to the top of the mountain and down to the God's Eye. His guts still felt as if they had been tied in knots. When the platform slowed and stopped again, they stood in complete darkness. Light poured, then, from the herald globe that Trinda held. The way it lit her face made her look like a living sculpture, dainty and smooth.

  Looking around, Trinda rolled her eyes at Durin. Dark halls stretched away for a short distance in two directions, but both passages had collapsed long ago and were completely blocked.

  "Try again. We need to go back down and return the way we came," Strom said, and Prios stirred at his feet. "That is the only way that should be open to the kitchens."

  "Open," Durin said, "because of us. The demons can get to everyone because of us. We should never have left them."

  Strom nodded. "I know."

  Trinda just looked at them both as if they were idiots then stepped on the stone tile that had what looked like snakes carved on it. Durin had never even considered stepping on that one for obvious reasons. The platform descended much more slowly before depositing them smoothly and gently in the room where they had started. With her arms over her chest, Trinda wore a smug look.

  Prios moaned and put his hand on his head. His eyes came slowly open.

  "Can you stand?" Strom asked.

  Prios nodded, slowly, cautiously. He made a motion that let Strom know he needed a moment longer, and Durin could see his chest expanding and contracting for a series of deep breaths. Then he extended his hand, and Strom helped him up. Prios looked around, a question clear on his face: Sinjin?

  Strom shook his head and laid a compassionate hand on Prios' shoulder. A tear fell from the man's eye, but then granite resolve settled over him. With a firm nod, he turned back to Strom and motioned for them to get moving.

  Durin walked forward without a word, Trinda at his side. Neither spoke. Uncomfortable silence stretched as Trinda's instincts led the way. Prios looked at the girl on occasion, a puzzled expression on his face, but he made no move to communicate further. Durin always marveled at Prios's ability to communicate without words, and knowing he could do so at any time made his silence all the more poignant.

  A look at Strom revealed his thoughts. The big man walked with his shoulders hunched
and his head down. Durin felt bad for him, knowing that all of this was really his fault and that he had just dragged Strom into it. If he'd never told anyone about making the keep move, they wouldn't be in this mess. Then there was the fact that he'd made the keep move in the first place. Durin guessed that his silence was pretty easy for the others to figure out. It pained him that his loved ones were endangered because of him. His first mistake may have been the result of laziness, but the second truly was the result of his desire to help everyone.

  Now he'd just gone and made everything worse. He wasn't really certain how he could have made things any worse until they had traveled beyond the underground river and plain and were nearing the halls that would take them back to the kitchens. There they met a peculiar sight: water flowed out of the halls. Water, Durin thought. One of those tiles had had water on it. A cold feeling grew in his gut until they reached the room where he and Strom had poured wine and pickle juice into the glowing rune, which had caused the hold to move and the passage behind them to open. Once there, he could clearly hear Miss Mariss cursing the name of the person responsible for all this water.

  "When those fools get back, I'll wring their necks."

  Prios looked at Strom and Durin, put his hand on his forehead, and shook his head. Trinda did something he wasn't certain he'd ever seen her do before: she smiled. It was a wicked little smile, and there was no warmth in it. It was very clear that this smile was at Durin's expense. Considerable effort had been put into keeping the runes dry, but most of the water flowed to the far side of the hall. Durin suspected this was part of the ancients' design, and he marveled, once again, at what those people had accomplished. He could not imagine how they had done it all, or even for what purpose, but their mastery was clear.