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

by Rathbone, Brian

  The problem of the Arghast came to the fore of his thoughts. He shook his head and mumbled something under his breath. Nothing seemed certain in his world, and he wondered if helping them get to the Firstland, if that was where they were truly destined, was the right thing to do. So much hinged on things his mother had started, things which were now left for him to finish. How a weak and ignorant soul like himself was supposed to carry on the work of the most powerful person in the world was beyond Sinjin's understanding. In that moment, he realized Trinda might have done him a tremendous favor. In her absence, would he have been called upon to lead? He was, after all, the next in the line of succession, if one were to view his as a noble bloodline, but it had never been that way here on the Godfist. Noble bloodlines were the way of the Greatland, and he doubted the people of the Godfist would see it that way. Perhaps having Trinda rule on the Godfist was for the best. From all appearances, she was doing a fine job of it. Seeing his people working together, rebuilding after what had seemed like complete destruction, lightened Sinjin's soul, and he almost smiled. Still, there was a great deal more to be done.

  Part of him wanted to stay and help his people, to be an instrument of his nation's rebirth, but not at the cost of peace; always that thought kept him from acting. One friend or countryman dead was too high a price. But that gave him no real option except to leave. Accompanying the Arghast to the Firstland seemed the logical course, but the thought terrified Sinjin. The tales he'd heard of the Firstland involved horrible battles and monsters, and it didn't seem like the kind of place that anyone would go. If he had understood Halmsa correctly, it was the place of dragons that he sought, and that alone gave Sinjin pause. That was the place where the regent dragons had been defeated, where his mother had chosen to go instead of staying and defending Dragonhold. Sinjin still couldn't say exactly how he felt about that.

  Not looking where he was going, since people had been moving out of his way almost automatically, it came as something of a shock when he slammed into an unmoving body. The surprise wore off quickly when he saw Kendra. She made no move to get out of his way, and there was no apology in her eyes.

  "You look like a worried hen," she said.

  "I'm just thinking," Sinjin said.

  "Well, stop doing it with that pitiful look on your face. All your pacing is making everyone nervous, including me, so stop it."

  "Maybe there's good reason to worry," Sinjin said. "Has it occurred to you that we've no place to go? The dragons may not be attacking now, but what about when they've nursed their wounds and decide to come back even stronger? What then?"

  "Then we fight."

  Those words defied response, and Sinjin went back to pacing.

  "That's not much of an improvement," Kendra said. "Your mood is catching, you know. Now just about everyone aboard is on edge."

  "I'm sure they have enough sense to be worried on their own," Sinjin said. "They don't need me to tell them their lives are in danger."

  It seemed those words also defied response. Kendra huffed and left him standing there, her scowl chasing away just as many as Sinjin's pacing. Still, he made sure to look up more often so as not to run into anyone else. On one of those occasions, he saw Gwen watching him. She said nothing when he met her eyes; instead, all she did was cross her arms over her chest and raise one eyebrow. Sinjin wasn't certain what it meant, but he knew it wasn't good. Usually when Gwen crossed her arms like that, he was only a mistake or two away from getting decked.

  * * *

  When one of the largest carriages on the Godfist appeared on its way to the harbor, four horses pulling it, Sinjin knew Pelivor was returning, and surely he was not alone in a carriage that size. Behind the carriage came a wagon not much smaller, also pulled by a team of four. Sinjin knew that the luxurious ride had been only a part of the journey since much of the way to Dragonhold was not fit for horse or wagon. Still, it made a statement: these people were being treated well.

  Pelivor was the first to emerge, an insuppressible smile on his face. Durin came next and ran toward the Dragon's Wing. He'd been aboard before, and he wasted no time in getting to Sinjin. With tears in his eyes, Sinjin's friend lifted him from the deck with his embrace and did not put him back down for a long moment. "You're really here! I can't believe you're really here! I thought it was a trick," Durin said, his voice cracking.

  "I'm here," Sinjin said. Then he saw his uncle board the ship. "Uncle Chase!" Again, Sinjin's feet left the deck. Chase trembled and shook when he hugged Sinjin, and he didn't know exactly what emotion Uncle Chase was feeling, but it appeared to be all of them at once. Brother Vaughn came a moment later, and Sinjin stuck an arm out to him, though Uncle Chase still held the rest of him tightly. Brother Vaughn joined the embrace, and Uncle Chase shook again. Then he did as Sinjin had always known him to do, he took a deep, if shuddering, breath and steeled himself.

  "It's good to see you, boy."

  Those words were enough for Sinjin. He knew the pain his uncle felt, and he had no need to make the man relive it. Uncle Chase had always been there for him and had saved his life more than once. Just having him near was a comfort; it went along with the solace he felt in the presence of his grandfather, Benjin, and others. His world was more complete, and he took a moment to be grateful for that. And so it was that he was standing with his eyes closed, tears staining his cheeks, when Kendra stormed up to him. She glared at him for a moment then she burst into tears and hugged him. Stunned, Sinjin just stood there, not even returning the hug. A moment later it was over and she was gone, disappearing into the deckhouse and slamming her cabin door.

  Shaking his head, Sinjin looked up and found Gwen watching him. This time she raised both eyebrows before she turned and strutted away. He watched with anxiety and a bit of amusement. Why did she feel the need to strut like that? Women were either easier to figure out than he'd been led to believe or they were completely unfathomable. Sinjin suspected the latter, but sometimes he wondered. Thinking about it gave him a headache, so he turned his thoughts to other problems, of which there were certainly plenty. In the end, he focused on the thing that bothered him the most, which was not having a home. Sailors made their homes on ships, but Sinjin didn't feel comfortable at sea. This was not the life he would choose, no matter how much Gwen wished it were so. That thought stung more than a little since it meant they were incompatible. Gwen loved the sea, and Sinjin loved the land. Impossible.

  Despite intentionally trying not to think about her, or perhaps because of that, Sinjin's thoughts moved to Kendra. Also impossible--most of the time she hated him. Well, maybe hate was not the correct word. She was frequently annoyed by him, and he spent a lot of his time hoping she wasn't angry. Then there were moments such as today when she hugged him; it had felt so right . . . until she had stormed off. What was he supposed to do with that?

  Shaking his head, he tried again to think about what to do next. He could leave the decisions to others, but this was his life, and his grandfather had already said he would honor whatever Sinjin chose. To receive that honor, Sinjin knew he needed to make a choice.

  The new passengers were getting themselves settled, and Sinjin noticed men unloading the wagon. Bundle after bundle came, and Sinjin couldn't imagine what they might contain.

  "Trinda sent a message," Brother Vaughn said when he returned to the deck. "She says she's no thief. Your belongings and those of your mother and father have been delivered."

  Sinjin swallowed. Something about other people packing his life into neat little bundles and tossing them out cut more deeply than he would have guessed.

  "I'm sorry, my boy," Brother Vaughn said. "There's a bit more. She says you're not welcome on the Godfist since she cannot guarantee your safety. She says she does not want that responsibility, though she's allowed those loyal to you to leave and sent with them provisions to make your journey a pleasant one. Be well and live long. That is her message."

  Sinjin's eye twitched. His mind could not reconci
le his memory of Trinda and the one they said now ruled within Dragonhold. If she was as powerful and controlled as Durin had told him, then everything he knew about her was a lie. It seemed impossible that she would fabricate an entire life of misery just as a ruse. No. Most of what he knew of her had to be true. That left him to wonder how and why the changes had come about.

  "I'm very sorry," Brother Vaughn spoke into the silence, "about everything. Your parents were dear to me, as are you. I'll do everything within my power to help you in whatever you decide to do."

  "What are you going to do?" Durin asked.

  "I have no idea," Sinjin said.

  Chapter 9

  If you believe you cannot do something, then you are almost certainly correct.

  --Nora Trell, captain of the Trader's Wind

  * * *

  After a long night with little real sleep, Allette watched Thundegar prepare to abandon his home. It seemed surreal, and she felt responsible. It was clear he would not have left this place if not for her. He'd spent two decades building his home, and it was among the most marvelous places she'd ever seen. Still, the Cloud Forest was an unfriendly place, and he himself had said it was no place for people. Twice already, she'd tried to talk him out of leaving, but he would hear no argument.

  "We shouldn't need large stores of food or water," he said while rummaging through his implements. "If nothing else, your timing is remarkable; you've hit the seasons just right."

  "What about this place? What about your home?"

  "The forest will reclaim it within a year," he said, not looking up. "This was never my home, just as the Heights were never my home. There are things I love about this place, but there are things I'd sooner never see again."

  "But what about Rastas?"

  "That crazy cat'll do just fine. He can run, fight, and swim with the best of them. He doesn't like water, but he lives in the Cloud Forest, for Vestra's sake, and he won't drown. And if there's one thing I know for certain about him, it's that he won't be left behind."

  As if on cue, Rastas charged back into the house and leaped up onto his hammock to watch. Allette wondered how much the cat understood. His life and Thundegar's were now in even greater peril than they had been, which made her feel terribly guilty.

  "I don't see how we can hope to cross the Jaga without flying," she continued, hoping her words would eventually sink in. "Perhaps we should be thinking of how to get on a dragon flight. Having flown over that place, I can't imagine making it on foot."

  "We won't have to cross the entire Jaga," Thundegar said," only a piece of it. We can catch a ship from Mesianto Bay. The place is nearly as dangerous as the Jaga, but I have some things that are prized by the Midlanders, and I should be able to get us passage by ship."

  For the first time, Allette felt some real enthusiasm for Thundegar's idea. The longing for the sea was deep in her bones, and her excitement was dampened by only her memories of the Jaga. The Cloud Forest had seemed quaint and welcoming by comparison, and the thought of it let the fear take hold.

  "As much as I want to return to the seas, we may never make it across the desert, let alone the swamps and forest. How far is Mesianto Bay?"

  "It's far," Thundegar said. "But we'll only be walking part of the way. Trust me."

  Allette tried to do as he said, but the ease and relative safety of dragon flight was nearly irresistible. "Where did you get your frying pan?"

  Thundegar turned and regarded her with a stern eye. "Even if I'll never return to the Heights, there are some things that should not be discussed. That's among them."

  "I'm sorry," Allette said. "It's just that there are some things here that I doubt you brought with you, and you said yourself that you had no metal or metal-working tools. So it made sense to me that you must still have friends, and perhaps those friends could find a way to get us on a dragon flight. Imagine how much faster and safer that would be."

  "Impossible," Thundegar said, his visage like a thunderhead. "You are just going to have to believe me. Neither of us is going back to the Heights. What we need are weapons, sharp and sturdy while light and flexible. Fortunately I foresaw the need years ago, and I began making these." Tucked into the woven trees and vines were shafts of polished wood. Thundegar pulled them free and handed them to Allette, who piled them to one side. The pile steadily grew.

  "Why so many?" Allette asked. "Are you expecting an army?"

  "To be honest, I never knew what to expect. Making these kept my hands busy and nimble during the long nights. For most of my life, I had spent my days making things, and that was taken from me. I had to do something with myself."

  "They're beautiful," Allette said when she looked at them more closely.

  "Find one that suits you and two more. These'll pay part of our passage."

  It took Thundegar no time at all to select his staff and a handful more to carry. Most of those he selected were too tall for Allette but bore elaborate carvings that would surely increase the value. Allette wasn't certain how effective they would be as weapons, but they seemed perfectly suitable walking sticks, and the people of the Midlands loved things that were practical yet beautiful.

  Running her hands over the smooth and twisted wood, Allette wondered how Thundegar had created such beautiful staves. The first staff she tried supported her weight well and was light enough that it would not be a burden to carry. It still felt a bit long for her, though, and she set it aside. A shorter staff was partially hidden by the longer ones, but Allette pulled it free. With one feint, she knew this was her staff.

  "Take it outside and test it a bit," Thundegar said while he did what he could to pack herbs and spices, though his selection of containers was woefully insufficient. Wooden bowls and cups had served well enough here, in his home, but they would do little to keep the precious leaves, roots, and powders safe and dry. The fact that Thundegar had managed to keep anything dry within the Cloud Forest was a testament to his ingenuity.

  Once outside, Allette grabbed the staff at its center and twirled it hand over hand. Thundegar watched from the doorway with a smile. "You've handled a staff before," he said.

  "I've had weapons training," Allette said. Rastas watched her from the tree line, his tail twitching. "The staff was never my first choice of weapon, but this one feels good in my hands. It has balance and is light enough to keep my movements nimble."

  Stepping from the shadows, Thundegar came with his own staff, and he stood in front of Allette. He said nothing, just lunged forward and swung downward at her thigh. Though clearly this was not his full strength, the blow would have given Allette a nasty bruise had she not stepped aside. "Good," he said. "I'm not as fast as I used to be, but perhaps some sparring will loosen these old joints. Just try not to beat me senseless. My body hurts enough on a good day."

  Allette smiled and lowered her staff, all thoughts of retaliation fading with his words. Thundegar then went back into the house and returned with two of the staffs that neither of them had selected. "I won't ask you to use your new staff as a shovel," he said, "but we need to dig a hole."

  "How big?"

  "Big enough," he said. "Just start digging and I'll let you know when to stop."

  Allette wondered what it was the man had against giving her a straight answer, but that just seemed to be the way he was. She accepted him in spite of it, but it infuriated her at times. He seemed to like surprising her with things, and she hated surprises. When he started carrying items out of the house and placing them next to her far-too-small hole, she realized she had a lot of digging to do, so her question was answered. After only two more trips, though, Thundegar stopped making the pile bigger and started digging opposite where Allette worked. She'd never minded hard work; it was something she'd always done, but no one liked to work alone, and having Thundegar digging as well made the task go much more quickly. Once the hole was big enough, Thundegar wrapped some of his most precious belongings in a coarse blanket and placed the bundle in the hole. The two of th
em carried the slate tabletop from the house and put it on top of the bundle before covering it once again with dark, rich soil.

  His frying pan wrapped in his bedroll and a pair of staves strapped to his back, he was ready to leave within minutes. For some reason, Allette was having a harder time letting go of the place than Thundegar was.

  "Come on, you crazy cat," Thundegar said. "Let's go somewhere dry."

  Rastas ran to his side, head-butted his thigh, and rubbed up against him.

  "So I guess that's it?"

  "That's it," Thundegar said, and the three of them moved into the Cloud Forest with a strange mixture of excitement and foreboding. If they survived this journey, Allette would be returned to her home, but the very real fact that they might not haunted her. The thought of losing Thundegar or Rastas nearly brought her to tears. Thinking of her father was more than she could hold back, and the emotions flowed. She missed him dearly, but lived every day with the pride of all he'd taught her. She was heading back to her world, the place where she knew what she was about and didn't need someone to take care of her. As thankful as she was for Thundegar, she couldn't wait to get back to a place where she was experienced and competent. For at least a little while longer, though, she'd have to rely heavily on her companions. With resolute will, she committed herself to being as valuable to them as they were to her. When the staves strapped to her back almost immediately got caught in the web of vines and branches that lined what could barely be called a trail, she was humbled once again.

  "It'll take some getting used to, I know," Thundegar said, "but the lower we go, the less dense the forest will be. And when we reach the desert, we'll have an entirely new set of problems to deal with; getting tangled in the growth won't be one of them."

  Allette kept her mouth shut and concentrated on finding a clear path. Thundegar led the way and did his best to clear obstructions and dangers using his staff, but the growth got thicker and more tangled the farther they ventured from the glade. They were moving into land that he'd less often traveled, and with no one to maintain the trails, the jungle encroached. "These paths were clear just a few months ago. It'll get worse before it gets better."