The western horizon took on its own eerie glow, one that matched the light of the statue. And Catrin knew, in that instant, without any doubt, the Statue of Terhilian that had been found in the west had just detonated, and she shrank away from the realization that tens of thousands had just perished in an instant. A new cataclysm had begun, and the next component of destruction stood within throwing distance of her. Zjhon guards formed a ring around the dais and effectively barred her path.
Most people had regained their feet, though the moans of the injured could still be heard, and angry voices protested from the crowd.
"The other statue has exploded!" someone shouted, and many looked about to see who it was, but no one laid claim to the statement.
"The Herald Witch has attacked the Westland," a woman shrieked, and Archmaster Belegra jumped on the opportunity.
"Friends, we are besieged. The Herald Witch has brought war to the Greatland, and we are all in dire peril. We must stand together and face our common foe as one unified nation. If we remain separate, surely we will perish," he bellowed, and the acoustics of the arena carried his words to even those in the highest rows. Ragged cheers broke out, but many within the crowd seemed unsure, as if their faith had been something of little consequence in the past but was now coming to haunt them. They would need to quickly decide what they believed, for now their lives depended on it.
"Can the Herald travel a third of the Greatland in the span of just one breath?" a familiar voice asked, and Catrin searched for the speaker without success.
"Of course not," Archmaster Belegra replied, seemingly outraged by the notion. "No one can do such a thing. The Herald Witch is powerful, but she's not unstoppable. We have but to join with one another, and we can defeat her. We must do this before she brings any more evil into our world." He seemed pleased with his words.
"Could the Herald cause such destruction in the Westland if she was here, within Adderhold?" the same voice shouted from the crowd, and the speaker became easy to locate, as just about everyone in his vicinity moved away. He stood proud and defiant, and Catrin could hardly believe the cruelty of fate when she recognized him: Rolph Tillerman, one of the few people in the Greatland who might guess her identity. She cursed herself for her own stupidity. She should never have let her tongue slip, but the damage was already done, and all she could do was wait to see how dire the consequences would be.
"There's no way the Herald Witch could cause such damage from a great distance. We are safe here," Archmaster Belegra replied.
"Then the attack on the Westland could not have been committed by the Herald," Rolph bellowed triumphantly.
"How could you know such a thing?" Archmaster Belegra asked, clearly confident that Rolph would only prove himself witless, but Rolph's response stirred the frightened crowd into frenzy.
"I know this for certain, since the Herald of Istra stands before you," he said, and Catrin leaned heavily on Benjin as Rolph's eyes turned to her. "In a wedding dress."
Chapter 24
Death, like life, is part of the natural cycle. To fear one is to devalue the other.
- -Manul Praska, shaman
***
Time slowed and Catrin swung her head in a wide arc, taking in every detail as she spun. All eyes were on her, and she felt every stare acutely, especially those from within the hoods of the men surrounding Archmaster Belegra. Hostile energies gathered there, making ready the attack, and Catrin was jolted by the recognition of one.
Prios.
The pattern of his energy was unmistakable, and she sensed his recognition of her even without being able to see his face. He gave no outward sign save a small twitch of his hood. But then her gaze moved to the very close face of her betrothed. His eyes were filled with rage, and his aura reached out for her like fingers of flame. For a moment, time accelerated; then he was leaping for her throat with deadly quickness.
Instinct drove her, and the heady abundance of energy she'd been absorbing made her off-balance parry a massive blow that sent him tumbling through the air. Even as he spiraled into a crowd of those attempting to flee, she wondered at the fact that she didn't even know his name, this Kyte whelp, and she wondered if it wouldn't soon be a name she'd wish to forget. For the moment, though, he'd pose no more threat; his limp form was dragged from the field by his guards. The flesh of her neck and throat stung, and when she ran her hand over it, it came away covered with blood. Had he raked her flesh without ever touching her? She wondered at that, but her attention was required to stay alive, and the world rushed around her again.
Her momentum carried her, and she found herself facing Benjin, who tossed her staff into the air between them. Catrin leaped to meet it halfway and caught it deftly. She rolled over it and sprang into a fighting stance only to find no one between her and the statue. One man moved to bar her path, but his eyes bulged, affixed to the heel of her staff, and he fled. She risked a quick glance at her staff. The serpent head stood out in bold relief, outlined by pulses of liquid energy, and, for the first time, the true nature of the serpent was revealed. Tendrils of liquid fire clearly showed the outlines of wings, but Catrin could look upon it no more. The noonstone eyes shone bright white, and blue spheres obscured her vision long after she looked away from the blinding glare.
The comet above seemed likely to destroy them all as it moved in front of the sun and was spectacularly backlit during the eclipse. Deep shades of purple and amber rolled away from the massive sphere of ice, and a towering cloud of vapor trailed behind it. The air sang like an anvil rung by a thousand hammers, accompanied by the monotonous thundering that threatened to vibrate everything into oblivion.
So quickly did Catrin propel herself to the statue that she had to let her body catch up. The thrumming air seemed to suspend her flesh, and her spirit barely clung to it. Her hands fumbled as they gripped the staff and prepared for impact. With all the force she could muster, she struck the glowing base of the statue. The energy trapped within pealed and flowed through the staff, through Catrin, and into the land itself. She could do nothing to stop it. Every muscle in her body contracted, and her face contorted in a twisted rictus.
Immediately she realized her mistake. The statue contained a small but highly charged core of noonstone opposite some other type of stone she did not recognize, one that stored a massive negative charge. Only a thin layer of dense metal separated the two charges. If that insulating barrier broke down, the resulting chain reaction would be monstrous, just as the one in the Westland had been. The explosion would be felt all the way in Endland, which seemed almost unfathomable to Catrin, having struggled to cross the massive expanse.
The men rushing toward her and those with bows drawn compounded her problems. Missiles were already on their way to meet her when she flung energy about her for protection. An angry sphere of red and lightning formed a shield around her. Arrows and spears burst into flames as they struck the wall of plasma, falling away harmlessly. But Catrin's resolve nearly faltered when men dived upon her sphere, hurling themselves against her energy flow. She felt their energy clash with hers and their spirits released by the impact. Each one was like a knife to her heart, and she wept.
"Please stop! I cannot keep you safe if you attack me. The energy has me trapped. Please stop! Please," she wailed, but Belegra urged more men to assault her defenses. He showed no regard for human life as he chided those who would preserve themselves. Those who stood around him, those hidden within the depths of their robes, seemed compelled into action. Each had access to Istra's power, but they were bound by Archmaster Belegra's will-slaves. As the archmaster moved his arms in wild and rigid gestures, the robed figures attacked without moving.
Hot, fetid rays of adulterated power emanated from them. Each of the energies merged with the others and was orchestrated by Archmaster Belegra. Somehow, he exerted nearly total control over these men, with the exception of Prios, who was clever. His energy separated itself once beyond Archmaster Belegra's field of influ
ence and only brushed across the surface of Catrin's sphere, whispering to her, over and over again.
"You gave me a name. You gave me power."
Archmaster Belegra was completely consumed in his machinations and seemed unaware of the communication between Prios and Catrin. The remaining mixture of energies, however, slammed into her sphere, and she reeled. The impact was worse than the time she had been kicked in the chest by a plow horse, and she wondered if her ribs were broken. Archmaster Belegra continued to pummel her with the twisted energies, but it became obvious he would not be able to do so much longer. His breathing was ragged, and beads of sweat raced down his mottled flesh.
Without so much as a twitch, Catrin sensed Prios separate himself from the twisted flow completely, and he lashed out at Archmaster Belegra. Like a striking snake, a thread of energy arced between them, and they both collapsed. The others swayed on their feet as the compulsion ended abruptly, and two fell to their knees, leaving only two standing.
Catrin took advantage of the respite and desperately reached into the statue, casting her senses over the deadly charges. There seemed an impossible amount of energy still trapped within, considering what had already been released, and she despaired. At the rate it was draining, it would take days if not weeks to deplete, and the insulating barrier was rapidly breaking down. It writhed and bubbled, boiling. Desperate, she tried to draw the scorching heat out of the core. Slowly the barrier cooled to a near-solid state, though the ground around Catrin's feet caught fire.
With the insulator stabilized, she returned her efforts to draining the excessive energy stored in the noonstone core. After the initial shock, she became desensitized to the massive energy flow, and though she felt as if she were slowly melting away, she could control herself and the flow of energy much better.
"Good people of the Greatland, flee!" she shouted. "I fear the statue will explode no matter what I do, get as far away as you can. I'll hold it as long as I am able."
"Don't listen to her," Archmaster Belegra shouted as he pulled himself from the ground. "Attack! Avenge your brethren! The Herald Witch is the true cause of these evils. Destroy her! Any who flee are traitors, and their lives will be forfeit."
His words rang discordant over those who still milled about the arena, and only a few fought to reach Catrin. The majority continued to flee, but some rallied together and advanced on Archmaster Belegra and his supporters. With his time undoubtedly short, Archmaster Belegra launched a desperate attack. He tore the energy from those who surrounded him and thrust at the Statue of Terhilian itself.
In one motion, he undid all that Catrin had accomplished. The barrier began to vaporize, and she knew it would soon break down completely. She attempted to divert his continued onslaught, but the mass of wild energy was beyond her control. As she tried to influence its course, it leaped out in all directions and struck down men and women without discretion. Even as she pulled away from it, lesser bolts of energy blasted Benjin and several of her guards. Their smoking forms lay frighteningly still where they landed, and Catrin nearly lost consciousness.
Breathing became almost impossible in the overheated air, and she drew ragged gasps. The arena spun before her as her vision clouded. The world was collapsing around her, and there was nothing more she could do. She'd given all she could give, and it hadn't been enough. Doomed to failure, she wondered why she even bothered to continue struggling. It would be so much easier to just give up, to lie down and die, but some inner fire still burned, and while any chance existed, she would fight.
After sucking in the deepest breath she could manage, she prepared to launch her final assault on Archmaster Belegra. Her skin grew taut and her fingernails peeled back as she gripped the staff, drawing more energy than she'd ever tried to contain before. She drew not only from the statue, but also from the staff, the noonstones, and the air itself. The natural energy helped to balance the wild forces trapped within the statue, but her exhaustion threatened to claim her. She walked a knife's edge between delivering a mighty blow and succumbing to it.
The polished surface of the staff bubbled, and her fingers bit into its flesh. Blistering sap raised welts on her hands, and she could draw no more. Fear gripped her as the reality of her situation set in. She was about to die, and so was everyone nearby. She could not hope to deliver this much energy and still remain standing; the statue would run its course, and with the comet still grazing the atmosphere, it wouldn't be long before it was all over.
Resigned to her death, she peeled her hands from the staff, and for a moment marveled at the imprints of her fingers carved deep into the wood. Turning to face Archmaster Belegra, she drew herself up. He was not unprepared, though, and launched an attack of his own. Green and yellow flames roared from his fingers as he drew upon the remaining members of his cadre, which included Prios, who seemed to have no more fight left in him. His form slumped forward as his life's energy was drained.
Enraged, Catrin delivered her blow, hurtling a rope of fire and lightning at Archmaster Belegra's head. He ducked under the assault, but the heat took his hair and blistered his flesh. With a terrible cry, he fled, and Catrin wobbled. She spun and reached about her, searching for something to hold on to, and her hands landed on the staff, still protruding from the statue's base. Her fingers settled precisely in the same place that bore their recessed imprints, and the energy surged through her again.
Without even understanding exactly what she was doing, she tugged on the energy and pulled it to her, embracing it. Her body thrummed, and she felt her spirit becoming free. She watched with a sense of indifferent attachment as she hung in the air above her physical form.
Before her, the statue glowed so brightly that it was blinding, and beyond it, the remnants of the crowd parted like the sea before the hull of a fast ship. Catrin barely heard the howling that split the air, but she saw an enraged bull of a man charging the statue.
"Do not despair, heart of the land! I've come for you," he bellowed, and Catrin recognized him at last.
Barabas.
"Abomination, be gone!" he roared as he closed the gap, and Catrin drifted closer to her body, intrigued.
Barabas struck the statue at a full run, and the arena was rocked with the concussion. The Statue of Terhilian trembled on its base, and Catrin felt Barabas as he was freed from his body. His spirit sang as it blasted free, knowing his sacrifice had not been in vain.
Some force moved Catrin's ephemeral spirit, and she slammed back into her body. Though she felt as if a part of her were lost, she became, once again, constrained by her physical form just as it hit the ground, and her breath whooshed from her lungs.
The statue was no longer a viable weapon. Barabas had done that which Catrin had not thought to do. Rather than deplete the positive charge, he had neutralized the negative charge by hitting it with his own positive energy. The noonstone core still stored a tremendous charge, but the reactive agent was gone.
An ear-shattering crack brought her out of her stupor. The Statue of Terhilian split down its center. Istra and Vestra were parted from their eternal embrace and sent crashing to the ground. Large pieces fractured into smaller sections, and it rained stone. Rough hands grabbed Catrin by the back of her dress and dragged her away from the disintegrating leviathan. She floundered, her limbs leaden and unwilling to respond to her command, and she let the darkness claim her.
Before she drifted into oblivion, a warm and bright spirit visited her, and Barabas spoke one last time before he departed the world of the living.
"Be strong, heart of the land. Your work is not yet done."
Epilogue
Hunching his shoulders over the massive crystal he carried, Prios struggled to keep his grip. Heavy and slick, the ebony stone's sharp edges bit into his hands, but he made no complaint. He'd spoken out once, when he was younger, and Archmaster Belegra had ordered his tongue cut out. Even deprived of speech, he could communicate well enough with those sensitive to Istra's power. Archmaster Be
legra and the others of the cadre had little difficulty understanding the mental images he sent them, and Catrin had understood him even when their bodies had been leagues apart. It was the memory of her that kept him going.
She gave me a name. She gave me power.
It was his mantra, and he repeated it to himself over and over. Prios. She had named him Prios. The name gave him pride, and he built his identity around it. He was no longer a nameless slave child, powerless and weak. He was Prios, and he was the master of his own destiny.
After the destruction of the statue, he had expected to be killed for his betrayals, but the archmaster acted as if he were unaware. Prios still couldn't believe it, though, and he dreaded the moment when Archmaster Belegra unleashed his fury. Surely he was not so blind that he hadn't noticed. Even if he were truly ignorant, what of the other members of the cadre? How long until one of them revealed his deceit? They had no reason to love him, yet they, too, had reason to hate Belegra. He had enslaved them all and used them without mercy. Prios could not know if the others were aware of his actions or if they would remain silent, and his life hung from the thinnest thread. All he could do was move on and hope for the day he would be reunited with Catrin. His dreams were full of her, and the thought of joining her was like a beacon in the darkness. It guided him forward and kept him from despairing.
Nearly losing his footing on the slippery gangplank, he thought a moment about letting himself fall into the dark waters, taking the precious crystal with him. It was so tempting. He would be free of his bonds at last, freed from the cruelty of his existence. Again, a vision of Catrin came to his mind. She glowed so brightly, and she lured him, just as the scent of roses draws the honeybee. She was brave and powerful, beautiful yet humble. He drew strength from her and climbed aboard the ship determined to find her. He would join her, and together they would be free.
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