Bats flew overhead, attracted by the moths that gathered around the herald globes. Chase and his men were armed with spears, but it was truly little defense against a dragon attack. Only the darkness kept the monsters at bay. Many within Dragonhold would no longer use the hold's name, and Chase felt guilty for having come up with the name in the first place, as it now seemed grossly inappropriate. He couldn't have known things would work out this way, but that didn't stop him from tormenting himself about it.
Climbing along the terraces that lined the valley was treacherous in daylight, and the group moved slowly. A yawn slipped past Chase's defenses; the guards on duty pretended not to notice. Double shifts had become the norm, and the number of people caught sleeping on duty was embarrassing, but they were all overtaxed and trying to adjust. This new life they lived was far less forgiving than what they had known for most of their lives, and the people of the Godfist were a hearty folk who knew their share of hard times. What lay ahead looked grim, and everyone knew it. Even Master Edling seemed to see the need for unity, in his own haughty way. Messengers had been arriving nightly since the dragons first arrived, requesting refuge for a large number of citizens from south of the Wall. Chase knew it was a game of resources; that much he had learned from the Zjhon invasion, if nothing else. Every additional body in the hold was an additional body to feed.
"Knowing Edling," Morif had said to Chase, "he'll send us every person with a sniffle, cough, or rash in hopes that disease will wipe us out for him. Then he can just take Dragonhold for himself. He seems already to think it belongs to him." All his talk about Dragonhold belonging to the people of the Godfist sickened him.
Such cold realizations made Chase feel ill. These were his countrymen, in many cases people he grew up with or attended lessons with, and he felt as if he were abandoning them. In truth, he knew the Masterhouse could hold a large number of people, as could the cold caves. What he didn't know was how well or poorly the Masterhouse and cold caves had been restocked with supplies after the siege. If Master Edling and the council had been lax in their planning, then turning people away could be sentencing them to starvation. Of course, accepting too many could assign the same fate. Chase sighed.
The group had moved on, and he was no longer at his post. He hurried to catch up, and again the other guards pretended not to notice. Chase was their leader, their strength, and they all knew that double shifts for them meant triple shifts for him. Sleep had become something grabbed in the moments between crises, and tonight was little more than shepherding farmers with no signs of any threat. For Chase, it was an opportunity to survey the land and crops for himself, and if nothing else, escape from within that oppressive rock for a time. He'd never known himself to fear confinement, but living beneath a mountain of rock weighed upon his soul, and he longed for the freedom he'd once had.
Ahead, the terrace walls had been damaged, and great care was required to climb past the broken section. The earthen works looked as if they might slide into the valley under the group's weight, but they held. Beyond lay a section of ripe corn, essentially cut off by the damage on one end and a sheer face on the other. Chase felt trapped with the treacherous section as their only means of escape. He cursed himself for a coward, and when the clouds parted, he felt a bit better. At least with the light of the near-full moon and the comets, the trek back would be less of an issue. The herald globes provided consistent light, but they cast shadows, making climbing dangerous.
As a strong wind drifted down from the north, Chase looked to the skies. Dozens of comets cast their twinkling light across the sky, blotting out the stars so only the moon and comets could be seen. It was a strange sight to behold. For most of his life, in fact for thousands of years, there had been no comets in the skies. The prophecies had said they would come, and so they had. They also said Catrin would destroy the Zjhon and, in a way, she had, but what the prophecies said would come next made Chase quail. He had hoped it all to be fantasy, but the situation just kept getting worse with no signs things would improve any time soon. Perhaps he needed to accept the fact that it would get far worse before it got better--far worse indeed.
The farmers had gotten ahead of him again, and Chase was about to close the distance when he noticed something strange in the corner of his vision: light, then darkness, then light. As he looked back to the sky, he saw a pattern as something large blotted out the comets, and whatever it was grew larger with every passing moment.
"Get down," Chase said in a half whisper, half shout. A brief moment of pride filled him as the entire crew ducked down without another word. Many met his eyes, and he motioned to the sky, making his hands into the shape of flapping wings, now known as the sign for dragons above. When he turned his attention back to the sky, it was nearly too late. A blast of air pelted them as the massive wingtips came close to taking Chase's head off. He fell to his stomach and waited for the debris-filled wind to pass. When he stood, he braced himself and readied his spear. His men did the same without the need for command, and they waited for the attack to come. Instead what they heard was the snapping of trees and timbers followed by a mighty exhale.
"The beast has gone down on his own, sir. Should we move in and finish it off?"
"Bradley and Simms, with me. The rest of you, wait here."
The sound of labored breathing echoed on the wind, and Chase knew the beast still had the potential to be very dangerous. A wounded dragon could be worlds more deadly than a hungry dragon. More cracks and snaps echoed through the valley as the beast thrashed, accompanied by mighty roars that ended as grunts.
"We might be best off letting this one die on its own, sir. I'm no coward but I can't see risking lives if the beast truly is mortally wounded, sir," Bradley said.
"I agree," Chase said, "but I want to get a closer look at what we're facing."
Shouts from above rang out, and Chase looked up to see Morif leading a group of men down the stairs. There was no mistaking the towering presence that was Morif, and it brought a smile to Chase's face. There might be a bit of gray in the old soldier's beard, but he'd certainly lost none of his warrior spirit. As he rounded a bend and got his first glimpse of the downed dragon, he got an impression of size but little else, as most of the creature was engulfed in shadow. It was the size of a large male, and Chase's knew that even a swipe of its tail could be an end to anyone caught in its path. The valley was still, and the wounded dragon had gone quiet.
"Stay where you are!" Chase shouted across the valley to Morif and his men. "I'm going in for a look. You stay here," he told Bradley and Simms. The men seemed uneasy about his order but didn't argue with him. Descending into the darkness, Chase tried not to think about what it would feel like to be crushed to death. When he reached an area where the terraces ran near a rooftop, he leaped across and shimmied down the side of the building, which had been constructed of whole tree trunks and offered a variety of hand- and footholds. When he peeked around the corner, he found himself face-to-face with a very alive dragon. His heart nearly stopped.
It took his brain a moment to register that this was no feral dragon. The head was wider, and the eyes were more on the sides of the head. Color was hard to guess, but this dragon was clearly not the shiny black of a feral. Those huge eyes, flecked with green and gold, held Chase in thrall, and he knew. It was not like what Catrin had described when Kyrien showed pictures in her mind. Chase simply knew: this was no ordinary dragon; this was Kyrien, Catrin's dragon.
* * *
Catrin sat up so suddenly that Millie fell out of the chair she'd been leaning back in.
"By god and goddess!" Millie shouted while gathering her skirts. "Lady Catrin!"
That brought new shouts from down the hall, and Mirta soon charged through the door. Millie poured a mug of water and handed it to Catrin, who had yet to speak or acknowledge anyone else. Her hands trembled but managed to grasp the mug, and after a few moments, Catrin drank. When she looked around, she had eyes for only one: Prios. His st
ill body was the color of ash.
"Back to the viewing chamber," Catrin said in a raw voice that left her coughing.
"You're in no condition to be up and walking," Mirta insisted, but Catrin would not be deterred.
"I'll carry him there myself if I have to," Catrin said as she stood on unsteady feet.
Millie wrapped an arm around her. "Do as she says! Guards! Help Mirta carry Prios back to the viewing chamber."
Men rushed into the chamber and carried both Prios and Catrin down the hall. Another man helped Millie, who was breathing heavily enough that she was having trouble complaining that she didn't need help.
"Get Brother Vaughn," Catrin gasped. "Tell him we need the chanting. He will understand."
"He tried for a time, m'lady, but when it had no effect after days, he finally gave it up," Millie said. "I'm sorry, m'lady."
Weariness washed over Catrin, and she hadn't the energy to respond. Instead, she just concentrated on breathing. Her body felt weak and disconnected, which was not unexpected. She'd been through this before, but this felt worse, as if troughs had been carved deep in her mind, and she doubted she would ever be whole again. For the moment only Prios mattered. Every second increased the chances he would simply fade away.
"Hold him in front of the left portal. I'll stand in front of the right," Catrin said. In truth, she leaned on the two young men flanking her only slightly less than Prios's unconscious form did. This was not entirely a bad thing as she uttered, "Hold on to me tight."
"Don't you dare leave me again!" Millie shouted, but it was too late, Catrin was already gone. Soon the air was filled with rhythmic chanting as Millie wept.
Chapter 6
Faith is belief in the absence of reason.
--Barabas the druid
* * *
Demons held the darkness, which surrounded Catrin's spirit and tried to smother her, but she conjured a herald globe that shone brightly, like those that lived only short lives. It was something she had learned while her spirit had been trapped at the farm. The things she was adept at creating in the physical world she could conjure on the astral plane. She used the globe to pierce the darkness and find Prios. She found him cowering in the corner of the barn; somehow he'd made it back. Memories of their battle would forever haunt her. Kyrien had spoken to her, and he had seemed so close, but the darkness was too strong. Weakened by prolonged separation from their bodies, the two had been in no shape for a fight.
Again, the demons closed in around the farm, leaving them to rot inside. Catrin often wondered why they didn't attack, but she supposed it didn't matter; death would come either way.
Prios whimpered and pulled his knees to his chin.
"I'm here. I came back for you," Catrin said, but he did not seem to hear. Rocking back and forth, he seemed to have left this reality for another, and Catrin shouted for him to wake. Still he didn't respond. Movement caught Catrin's attention, and her spirit froze. Slipping in from the blackness came the demons, seemingly no longer willing to wait. The sound of movement behind her alerted her to more danger, and Catrin prepared herself for one final effort. She would carry Prios and simply make a run for it. It seemed like suicide since they would both be defenseless, but Catrin could find no other solution. At least they would die doing something.
Reaching down, she gathered Prios's energy, which had weight and mass and was more difficult for her to carry than she had imagined; she would not give up, though. Pulling energy from the night air, she conjured four herald globes, each taxing her but intended to drive the demons back. It didn't work.
Pain seared her soul as Catrin moved past the first of the demons. She spun slowly, awkwardly, and half fell out of the barn and into the night. Demons poured down the valley walls like a flood of evil. Shadow dragons flew overhead, ridden by men with twisted faces. Only Catrin's conjured herald globes cast any light, and she moved like a candle afloat on a raging river. Roiling clouds of deep black obscured the night skies. Her beams of light illuminated the fog, casting rays of color around her and Prios, but the darkness pressed in close, causing the sphere of color to shrink. Claws and slavering jaws broke through the light. Gibbering madness drove searing knives through Catrin's mind and she screamed.
Prios flung his limbs outward, seemingly awakened by Catrin's anguish, and he sent balls of lightning into the demons. Catrin screamed as burning embers branded her soul. With a cry of rage, she rose up and cast flames in a wide arc, knowing it was the last of her reserves. Any more and she would simply dry up and blow away.
Light parted the darkness. Like a knife of fire it raced from the skies and cast demons spinning as it came. Awestruck, Catrin saw Kyrien in the form of flame and lightning. He was even more beautiful than in the physical world, and he proved as deadly as well.
We have done this before.
Catrin wondered if she heard a bit of sarcasm or perhaps even a bit of reprimand in Kyrien's thoughts, which came to her in images and impressions. The fire dragon swooped down low and grabbed Catrin in his mighty claws. Demons leaped and snapped at them, but Catrin cast beams of light, scorching them with their brilliance. She gave herself to the effort, unconsciously drawing energy from Kyrien, and only his urgings moved her toward restraint. In a moment of exhilaration and fear, Kyrien caught the wind and soared higher, aiming at two holes in a rock face. An instant later, he slammed into it with a force that should have left a crater in its wake. Instead, it left Catrin's spirit once again in her body, gasping for air and waiting for the feeling to return to her limbs. Beside her, Prios lay nearly as still as death, his breathing slow and shallow. With the world spinning before her, she said, "Take me to Kyrien."
"But, Catrin," Millie said, so beside herself that she slipped; she almost never used Catrin's name in public. "You must rest and drink and eat and recuperate yourself. You're in no condition to go anywhere. And I'm sorry but Kyrien hasn't been here in years."
"He's here," Catrin said.
* * *
"Get more men down here!" Chase shouted as he watched his nightmares spring to life around him. Dark beasts loped down the ridgeline while others howled their way down the center of the valley. These creatures were different from anything he'd ever seen, but when one turned and howled, Chase saw traces of Gholgi, the fabled enemies of mankind he and Catrin had faced on the Firstland. These monsters were even more terrifying. There was intelligence in their piercing eyes accompanied by chilling savagery. They wore crude armor and wielded jagged weapons. Sounds barked among them sounded like a canine language. When a dark shape soared over them, the demons moved almost as one. In tight formation, demons created a mesh with their crude and varying shields. They approached Kyrien, who lay thrashing on the valley floor, his eyes focused on something no one else there could see. Behind the shield bearers came hulking beasts. Chase knew he was helpless, and the numbers he saw coming were more than his men could fend off, but Kyrien had saved Catrin's life more than once, and Chase would not let him die if he could help it.
"Find a good place to brace your spears," Morif shouted. "When they come, let them fight the Godfist itself instead of the strength of your arms. Let them impale themselves!"
Chase appreciated Morif's enthusiasm, knowing his men would need every boost in morale they could get just to keep them from turning and running. It was all Chase could do to face this new enemy--such malice!
Dust and dirt leaped from the ground, blinding and scouring, as the first of the dragons attacked. Morif stood facing the beast, watching it come, his spear lying on the ground before him. Just before the dragon reached him, he knelt down and raised the tip of his spear. The butt he jammed into a saddle of rock. The dragon was ready, though, and managed to make it only a glancing blow. Before it passed over, however, it knocked Morif and a dozen other men from their feet with a lash of its tail. Some did not rise again. More dragons circled and Chase knew it was only a matter of time.
Demons slipped past the downed guards and hacked at Kyr
ien's sides, trying to get to his soft underbelly but so far were stymied by his thick scales. One grabbed the spear from a downed guard and ran at Kyrien's eye.
Chase cried out, willing his body to move faster than he knew was possible. He was supposed to protect Kyrien. How would he ever tell Catrin that he'd let them kill her dragon? "No!" he shouted just before the demon was engulfed in liquid fire. It pulsed like lightning and blasted the air, sending Chase and others sprawling. Landing on his back, the breath knocked from him, Chase nonetheless found his soul lightened; Catrin stood atop the stair with lightning pulsing around her outstretched hands, lashing out at feral dragons and demons simultaneously.
"For Catrin!" Chase roared, and those around him rallied, many smoking and limping as they pulled themselves from the ground. The darkness was undeterred, and a flood of demons clogged the valley, the dragons protecting their flanks. More people streamed down the stairs with Catrin among them, warding off attacks from the air. She could not guard the people and Kyrien at the same time, which left Chase and his men vulnerable. The sight of Morif leaning on Kyrien with a spear in his hand did much to bolster Chase's morale; at least his old friend was not dead.
Thunder rolled through the valley, though no rain fell, and the skies were now clear. Webs of light arced overhead, and Chase could not look up for fear of losing what night vision he possessed. If he had looked up, he would have seen the massive black dragon bearing down on him. Instead, he was caught completely by surprise when what looked like a tree trunk slammed into him. The air rushed from his chest in a whoosh, and he flew backward. For a time he watched the battle rush away from him, but then his feet struck something.
Regent (Godsland Series: Book Four) Page 7
