The Balance of Power (Godsland Series: Books Four, Five, and Six) (9 page)

No one liked eating dragon, but almost every part of the dragon carcasses had been claimed for some purpose. Many of the men guarding Kyrien wore shields made from massive scales, and the teeth had become highly valued as spear tips--far more effective than their iron counterparts. Kyrien seemed ready to climb his way out of the valley. Catrin could feel his impatient desire as if it were her own; in many ways it was. The visions of her riding Kyrien had brought with them an intense desire to fly, to see the world from above. Part of her knew it was crazy and that flying meant facing the ferals. The monsters seemed to be multiplying, and every passing day, the danger they presented became greater.

With conscious effort, Catrin pulled herself back into the hold, back to her workshop. It seemed strange now to be working on the saddle when there was dragon ore once again within the hold. Guilt stabbed at her whenever she looked at it. Kyrien had given so much of himself to be here for her and to protect her, and as if that were not enough, he also managed to bring her more of the precious stone. Now Catrin had no desire to create herald globes, and no more trade would fill their coffers. The dragons and demons effectively prevented that, even if they didn't stop the steady stream of refugees who came from the south in the night. Though Catrin loved her people as a whole, those who had opposed her in good times and now sought her help in bad times angered her. She was tempted to turn them away, to send them back, but she simply could not.

Every new body that entered the hold presented new challenges and changed the rationing requirements. There were those who vehemently objected to allowing the refugees in, but Catrin had had the final word so far. She knew there would come a time when she would need to change her stance, but for the moment she put those thoughts aside. Again the desire to finish her saddle came to the fore. Though she considered returning straight to work, she took the time to make good use of Brother Vaughn's gift and iced her aching hands.

* * *

With sweat soaking his clothes, Sinjin followed Durin, who walked at a terribly slow pace. "Hurry up. The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can go do something else."

"That's just the problem," Durin said without turning. "As soon as we finish this, they'll have something else needin' done. You watch."

Sinjin didn't argue. Durin was right, yet Sinjin didn't mind as much. The work helped him feel as if he were contributing something. So often he felt helpless and useless, but at least he could achieve menial tasks. The hard work and sweat also helped him regain his strength and even grow stronger. He could feel the power in his newly toned muscles, and he liked it. The past moon had been the most difficult any of them could remember. In many ways, Sinjin and Durin were but spectators watching a most terrible drama play out.

Sinjin curled the mostly full water buckets he carried, switching between right and left. He found he could alternate along with his stride and establish a rhythm; that was if Durin would keep moving.

"No more draggin' your butts through these halls, now; especially not the
champion
runner," Miss Mariss said when they finally returned to the kitchens. "I needed that water long before now, and you've thrown off the entire kitchen. Now tell everyone you're sorry. Listen up, everyone! These two sluggards have something they want to say to you." With a steel eye, she turned to Durin. "Well, boy, what do you have to say for yourself?"

"I'm sorry," Durin blurted, his eyes cast to the side. If he'd been looking her in the eye, he might have seen it coming; instead, he was caught completely by surprise when she smacked him on the back of the head.

"And what about you?"

Sinjin looked up. "I'm sorry we took so long. It won't happen again."

"Your boilin' right it won't. Now empty the wastewater buckets and bring more clean water back with you."

"Yes, ma'am," the boys said in unison, neither with a great deal of enthusiasm. Bringing fresh water was difficult, but taking out the wastewater could be most unpleasant. Miss Mariss saved this task for those who irked her the most, which meant Durin was first in line with Sinjin running a close second.

"Why do I get lectured and smacked on the head and you just get lectured? I'm tellin' ya, you can get away with anything," Durin said in a nasally voice, trying not to breathe through his nose. Sinjin understood the wisdom of that decision since it was often better to never know how bad the water smelled; for some reason, the worse it smelled, the more likely it was to get spilled. Doing the laundry and scrubbing the passageway floors was worse than the carrying. Sinjin would prefer to just get the task done, but Durin slowed once again.

"There's gotta be a better way," Durin said, glaring at one of the many basins throughout the hold, all of which were dry. The one he glared at now held some dried flowers. Everyone speculated that the hold had once had water flowing through it. Durin couldn't imagine how such a thing could have been achieved, and he often wondered if everyone else weren't wrong. Perhaps the basins had served a completely different purpose altogether. He'd often been tempted to pour the wastewater down one of the basins, but the idea of trying to get rid of the smell if it didn't work stood in his way. Of course, sometimes that was the only thing that stood in his way, especially when his shoulders and his chest ached.

"I don't want to get yelled at again," Sinjin said. "Let's go."

Durin set down the buckets and turned. "I need to rest."

Sinjin was about to make a sarcastic remark, but he noticed how slowly Durin straightened after lowering the buckets to the stone.

He turned to Sinjin with eyes filled with tears. "I'm not as strong as I used to be. Sometimes I need to catch my breath."

Familiar guilt engulfed Sinjin. His friend was only weak because he'd been hit by a weapon intended for Sinjin. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It wasn't
all
your fault."

Sinjin started to protest, but Durin just laughed, which turned to a cough. After a couple more steadying breaths, he hoisted the buckets and started moving once again along the hall. Sinjin shuffled silently behind him, his mind consumed with problems for which he had no solutions.

It seemed to take all afternoon to reach the God's Eye. There, small barges waited to carry waste products across the subterranean lake where they could be taken into the Chinawpa Valley and buried or otherwise disposed of. It was a tedious process that took more time and resources than anyone would care to admit.

Simms and Bradley manned the poles of the nearest barge, and they grinned at the boys as they approached. "More wastewater, eh?" Simms said. "Don't ya ever git tired of carryin' wastewater? Ya always stink by the time ya git down here."

Sinjin just stepped onto the greasy timbers of the barge. Though small, the barges could carry an amazing amount of weight, far more than Sinjin and Durin ever came with. Simms detested putting out so much effort for such small loads, but Sinjin and Durin had no choice in the matter; their instructions were quite clear, as were Simms's, but that didn't stop the older boy from complaining loudly.

"Don't have nothin' t'say?"

"Mind your tongue," Bradley said. "You don't want the Herald coming down here and lecturing us again, do you?"

Sinjin flushed at the memory and wished, once again, that his mother would learn that sticking up for him was not in his best interest; it only made things worse. The rest of the trip passed in tense silence, and Sinjin watched the cavern walls slide by. Archways along the walls marked tunnels that had been blocked by the ancients. No one quite understood how it had been done. While some tunnels had been blocked with only loose stone and mortar, most of those leading away from the God's Eye were blocked by similar obstructions for a short distance before the tunnels dead-ended in solid granite. Once three tunnels had been excavated with the same results, all efforts to explore the remaining tunnels had been abandoned. Still, Sinjin tried to imagine what wonders could lie beyond and what magic the ancients used to conceal and secure them.

"Hurry up," Simms said. "I'm not waitin' all day."

Sinjin grunted when lifting his buckets, and Durin looked unsteady on his feet.

"I'll help you with that," Bradley said, earning a glare from Simms.

Late-afternoon light streamed in from outside, casting a ruddy glow over the pocked stone floor. Guards flanked the entranceway, ready to close multiple sets of gates should the hold come under attack again. Thus far, their fortifications had repelled the ferals and demons, but many feared the enemy had merely been testing their defenses in preparation for a major assault.

"Hold," came the guard's command.

"It's just us," Durin said, clearly annoyed.

"State your business."

"We brought you supper," Durin said.

"Wastewater," Sinjin said, glaring at Durin. "Was that so hard?"

"Every time it's the same thing. 'State your business.' We're carrying water buckets, for Kyrien's sake."

Bradley laughed and shook his head as he led them through the ancient hall, which opened onto the more recently built timber fortifications, stairs, and lift mechanism. Men worked nearby, all guarded by soldiers with spears, and all seemed ready to retreat at the first sign of trouble. Sinjin couldn't blame them.

"Wastewater to the right," the overseer barked.

"Wastewater to the right,"
Durin mimicked, causing Bradley to chuckle.

It felt good to be outside and breathing fresh air, and this brief moment was one of the reasons Sinjin didn't mind the task. The air near the freshly dug latrines was rarely pleasant, and the three dumped the buckets and retreated as quickly as they could.

A low murmur suddenly flowed across the valley floor followed by a dark shadow. Sinjin, Durin, and Bradley ducked down and stayed still. The dragon did not return, and people continued their work, anxious and on constant alert. It was exhausting and those who worked outside could do so for only short periods of time. Too many were overcome with fatigue and became careless; that was all it took these days to get dead.

Instinctively walking hunched over, as close to the ground as possible, the three did their best to get back to the cavern in silence. Sinjin looked over the beds of herald globes charging in the remaining sunlight, and he worried over their safety, but if they didn't charge in the sun, they wouldn't glow during the following nights. Sinjin had always found it amazing that one day of charging in the sun was enough to make a herald globe glow for nearly a fortnight. So many of the things his mother was said to have done seemed far away, as if they were but fairy tales, but these brought those stories closer to his heart. This was something only his mother could make, and they were among the world's greatest wonders.

Torches and candles were still used by most with only the most affluent able to afford the luxury of herald globes, and only those with jobs that could not be done otherwise were allowed to make use of the hold's inventory. Many globes were used to light the common halls and work areas, but there were still many parts of the hold left permanently in the dark. Sinjin had not expected such darkness when he returned to the cavern, but the torches on Simms's barge were almost lost in the distance.

"One of these days, I'm gonna leave that moron in the middle of this lake," Bradley said to Sinjin and Durin.

Chapter 8

The might of kings soars on leathery wings.

--Fedicus Illiani, historian

* * *

Heavy wisps of black smoke curled from whale-oil lamps as Thorakis turned the herald globe in his hand. Such a small thing. The most powerful person in the world had been working for more than a decade, and this was the best she had come up with. It was sad, really. Thorakis had achieved so much more without using a lick of Istra's power. His might had come from foresight and wit. His power rested in water, wood, and stone. All this he did on his own, his intellect his most powerful tool. He wondered at times what he could accomplish if he ever tapped his other talents. A deep sensation of cold ran through him, leaving him nauseated and unsettled, a cold sweat forming on his brow.

No one could know, he reminded himself. His power and will must come from his natural abilities alone. He renewed his vow, all the while stroking Seethe's head. The mighty serpent had grown quickly and now curled around Thorakis's throne, his bulk spilling onto the dais, his head resting in Thorakis's lap.

"I beg of you, sire," Grimwell said, kneeling before Thorakis and Seethe. "Address the troops. It is you they follow, not I. Please. Lead them."

Thorakis nearly dismissed Grimwell again, having heard this plea before and not liking the idea any more than he had the last time. He did not wish to leave Seethe alone, and the troops were not ready to meet his dragon yet. The feral dragon was still young and needed Thorakis to protect him. The thoughts came readily; he'd been through this before. "Proceed with construction of the aqueducts as I have requested. Be certain my specifications are met exactly!"

"Will you not speak to them, sire?"

"You try my patience, wizard!" Thorakis began with a wild gleam in his eye. Seethe shifted in Thorakis's lap, and Grimwell's eyes grew wide. A vision overwhelmed Thorakis as he saw himself delivering an oration like none ever achieved before. He could feel the energy radiating from the crowd as they cheered his name, and with every breath, he was filled with it. When he looked back at Grimwell, the wizard shrank away. "Yes. I will speak to them, wizard. Gather them and prepare them. I am ready."

Grimwell retreated backward from the hall, his eyes locked with Seethe's, and it was everything he could do not to run. Had he seen those who stepped from the shadows after his departure, he would have.

* * *

Within the modest room he called home, Brother Vaughn sat facing Trinda. "Please tell me about the dragons. How did you call to them?"

Trinda shrugged. "I sang."

"Had you sung before?"

"Yes."

"When and how often?" Brother Vaughn asked, hoping she wouldn't make him pull every detail from her.

"Just sometimes."

"And what happens when you sing. Please, tell me."

"When I sing, I think about things, and they come to me."

Brother Vaughn let that statement sink in. "What things have come to you?"

"Butterflies once. And birds once. And one time fish. And now dragons, I guess."

"Fish," Brother Vaughn said and Trinda nodded. "Will you show me?" She nodded again.

From the three-pronged stand that Strom had made him, Brother Vaughn grabbed his herald globe and a ball of string. Trinda looked interested but said nothing more. As they walked, he noticed how much Trinda shied away from anyone they passed and, in more than a few cases, how the people they encountered reacted to Trinda. It was a small hold, and Brother Vaughn hoped he could find a way to keep the girl safe. Many associated Trinda with the death of Catrin's and Chase's mothers, and no matter how hard they tried, some simply could not accept her presence in the hold.

As they passed through the dark halls, only the glow of his herald globe lit the way, and Trinda huddled within its light. Those they passed had their own business and paid little mind. At the dock, no barges waited, the area eerily quiet. Trinda drew a deep breath when she beheld the God's Eye, and Brother Vaughn couldn't blame her. No one seemed prepared for the sight of a natural vaulted chamber of such size and capacity to hold what could only be called a lake. This end of the lake received the least light and had no algae growing in it, which meant that the fish usually stayed at the far end of the lake, where food was more plentiful.

Using his string, Brother Vaughn created a cradle for his herald globe and showed it to Trinda, who looked dubious. He lowered the herald globe into the water, not really knowing what to expect. To his surprise, the light became brighter and cast distorted beams through the water, but it also did an excellent job illuminating the steep slope that dropped away from the cavern entrance. No fish could be seen.

"Would you sing now for me? And think about fish? Just the ones in this lake, mind you," he added, suddenly envisioning fish leaving the sea to find her. Trinda hesitated and Brother Vaughn said nothing, not wanting to coerce her. She closed her eyes for a moment, and Brother Vaughn thought she might not be ready, but then she nodded and began to sing a soft, wordless tune that pulled at his heart. Brother Vaughn lost track of time while he listened, and he forgot the reason they had come, forgot what he had asked her to sing for. When he looked down and saw the glowing water filled with writhing bodies, all aligned and pointing at Trinda, he jumped and lost his grip on the string.

Trinda stopped singing and tried to grab the string as it slipped beneath the water. The globe looked as if it might come to rest on a shelf of rock, but the shifting water pulled it out and sent it tumbling into the depths. Brother Vaughn watched in morbid fascination; the light grew brighter as it moved deeper. He could see the smoothness of the slope; there was nothing to impede his herald globe, which had left the string behind. Both of them gasped when the shape of a shipwreck appeared from the darkness and was then lost again in shadow. Just as suddenly, the light stopped moving, apparently stuck on a rock formation of some sort.

"You dropped it," Trinda said.

Brother Vaughn couldn't contain his excitement. "Did you see that? That was amazing! You called the fish to you, and that was wonderful, and then, like the great oaf I am, I dropped the globe, but even that brought discovery. Did you see that ship? It must have been built
inside
this cavern. Can you imagine that?"

"By the gods!" came Simms's shout. His barge was over where the herald globe had come to rest. "Would you look at that!"

Bradley, on another barge, quickly poled his way to where Simms waited, seemingly too stunned to move. Bradley looked down and, cursing, poled his way back to the dock. Simms remained where he was as if paralyzed.

"What is it, man?" Brother Vaughn asked.

"Get on," Bradley said. "You just have to see it."

Brother Vaughn hesitated a moment, unsure how Trinda would do on the water, but she stepped behind Bradley and onto the barge so fast, all he could do was follow. Bradley poled them back to where Simms was now issuing a steady stream of curses with occasional prayers interjected.

Below them lay an unmistakable form, or at least part of it. What looked back from below was a gleaming feral dragon, its menacing maw clear in the light. The globe had landed quite close to the eye of the giant serpent, which seemed to be made of enormous crystalline structures, as if the gems had naturally formed into the shape of a mountain-sized dragon. The beast's body faded into the darkness, but Brother Vaughn imagined it stretching to the far shore. The dragon's glare inspired awe and fear, and seeing the fish now gathering around the dragon's eye, attracted by the light, was among the most vivid images Brother Vaughn had ever seen.

"Are there any divers within the hold?" Brother Vaughn wondered aloud.

"There's Logan the spear fisherman," Bradley said. "That guy can hold his breath for a really long time. I bet he could get it back."

"Could you go find him for me?"

Bradley seemed hesitant to leave his post. Though he was working as a bargeman, he was officially part of the guard, and abandoning one's post was a serious crime.

"This is important. Let's go see your commander. I have something to ask of him as well," Brother Vaughn said.

Bradley followed. Simms looked as if he didn't care, but Bradley wore his concern openly.

"Don't worry. I'll take care of this."

"Yes, sir," Bradley said, looking no less uneasy.

Brother Vaughn could understand his worry and uncertainty. So many things were new in Dragonhold, and so few people knew with absolute confidence what they should do and to whom they should listen without question.

It came as a bit of a shock when it was Morif Bradley sought out. It would appear that Bradley ranked higher than one might think, and Brother Vaughn suspected Morif was keeping a special eye on the hold's entrances.

"What's all this about?" Morif said as they entered his home.

"Sir, I'm sorry, sir," Bradley began, and Morif held him in a steady, one-eyed gaze.

"I pulled him away from his post," Brother Vaughn interjected, and Morif turned his imposing stare.

"I've made a discovery! Well, several, actually, and I need a diver to get my herald globe back from the bottom of the God's Eye. And you should see what's down there!"

"Why did he bring you up here?" Morif asked Bradley.

"He wanted me to find Logan so he could dive for the herald globe Brother Vaughn dropped in the water."

"Then go get him," Morif said.

Bradley left in a hurry.

Morif nodded. "That's a good man."

Brother Vaughn nodded his agreement. Trinda tried to remain unseen. Millie was one of the people who couldn't stand the thought of her being in the hold, and Morif was conditioned to look after her interests. Somehow Trinda must have sensed that she was not welcome.

"And I suppose there must be something else, or I suspect you'd already be gone." He didn't look at Trinda, but he didn't have to.

"I need to borrow your herald globe," Brother Vaughn said.

"Why?"

"I just need to borrow it for a little while, and then I'll bring it back. I promise."

Morif harrumphed and pulled his globe from its stand. "Let's go see what we've got here."

He led the way back toward the God's Eye, never actually giving Brother Vaughn the herald globe.

At the docks, they waited for Simms to return. He'd been floating over the sunken herald globe when they arrived, and seeing Morif on the shoreline had him moving in a hurry. Morif didn't say anything, and it was clear by the look on Simms's face that he didn't need to. "Get me out there so I can see what all this fuss is about."

"Yes, sir."

Brother Vaughn and Trinda followed Morif onto the barge, and he felt the same sense of fascination this time when the mighty serpent came into view. He found entirely new details that he had missed before. The herald globe continued to glow brightly, though only an occasional fish now played in the light.

Morif said nothing; he just stood, stroking his beard. Brass adornments braided into the beard made a soft noise that seemed to soothe the old warrior. Brother Vaughn knew better than to try to get something out of Morif. The man would speak when he was ready.

Bradley returned with a man Brother Vaughn assumed was Logan. He was thin as a sapling with skin still sun darkened, something that was becoming increasingly rare. Bradley poled his barge to a stop not far away, and Logan spared not a word. He simply slipped into the water and swam toward the light. He moved like a seal as he swam, and Brother Vaughn worried he would drown. Even once the man had grabbed the globe, he appeared to rise to the surface far too slowly, but Logan broke the surface and seemed only moderately winded. He swam to Brother Vaughn and handed him the glowing orb.

Turning the herald globe in his hand, he watched as it dimmed to a softer glow. "May I see your globe?" he asked Morif.

The wizened veteran grunted and handed it to him.

"Was that the deepest you could dive?" Brother Vaughn asked Logan.

"No, sir. I can go deeper than that."

"Don't even think about it," Morif said, but Brother Vaughn was already moving, and before Morif could stop him, he'd thrown both globes back into the water.

Brother Vaughn hoped Morif didn't lose patience with him, and he wore an apology on his face for only an instant. Then he watched in fascination as the two globes cast slightly overlapping rings of light, and the first sailed down close to where the ancient shipwreck lay. The second soared beyond the dragon's eye and gave only the slightest glimpse of something else resting on the coils of the dragon.

"Do you think you can dive for those?" Morif asked Logan.

"I think so, sir. I just need a bit of time to breathe."

"Simms, get your butt back to the docks. There're people waiting." He turned back to the monk. "With all due respect,
Vaughn,
don't do that again."

"Yes. Um. Yes, of course," Brother Vaughn said, secretly hoping someone else would annoy Morif and take the focus off him. The barge was feeling rather small and more than a little crowded. A moment later, though, Logan disappeared under the water and moved into the light. First he went to the globe near the sunken ship, and Brother Vaughn nearly fell in as he leaned over to watch. Logan had the globe in one hand yet didn't start back up immediately. Instead, he glided along the side of the sunken ship and spent what seemed an eternity sifting through the wreckage. Brother Vaughn suddenly remembered to breathe, only then realizing that he'd been holding his breath as though he were underwater with the diver.