Call of the Herald (11 page)

It took her a moment to recognize the center
of the grove when she reached it. Tears filled her eyes, and her
body trembled as she gazed upon the black stone. None of it had
escaped damage. That which was not crushed under the fallen giants
had been blasted by lightning and pounded by massive hail. All that
remained was a mass of rubble and gray powder that crunched under
their boots. Grapefruit-sized hailstones still littered the area,
serving as poignant reminders of nature's power. Catrin turned
wordlessly back to her friends, who remained downcast and silent;
they had tears in their eyes, and she could see the fear in
them.

"It was so beautiful," Osbourne said in a low
whisper.

His words stung Catrin like a physical blow,
and she moved away from the place quickly, trying to escape the
oppressive weight settling on her shoulders. She wanted to believe
the destruction of the grove was not her fault, but she found no
comfort . . . only tremendous shame and grief. Her father had
finally trusted her enough to share the knowledge of how to find
his special place, and she had destroyed it. Her depression
deepened when she realized it had not really been her father's
place at all. Someone planted the greatoaks, by her guess, many
generations ago. She had entered a sacred place and, by some
unconscious action, had brought about its desecration. She felt as
if she had betrayed her ancestors, and she could almost sense their
accusing stares on her, denouncing her. Tears clouded her vision as
she stumbled through the maze of debris.

When she reached what remained of the
campsite, she began to gather what she could find of her gear.
Chase reached her side but remained silent for a time.

"You can't blame yourself for the weather,
Cat. This wasn't your fault. This was just like the storm we had
three weeks ago. That funnel cloud did a lot of damage too, and you
had nothing to do with it either," he said.

Catrin wanted to agree with him. She was no
goddess or sorceress with influence on the weather. To believe she
was would be silly. But she still needed a reasonable explanation
for the strange occurrences that seemed to center on her. She
supposed her dance above the stone could have been a hallucination,
but such rationalizations did not ring of truth. When she
considered the appearance of the comet, the odds against it all
being coincidental were staggering. Perhaps, she thought, she had
just been in the wrong places at the wrong times, but things were
too similar for those events to have been purely accidental.

Once she and the others finished packing what
they had left, Catrin shouldered her pack and looked at her
companions. They looked away, and she understood their fear because
she, too, was terrified. They probably believed she was somehow
responsible for the devastation of the grove, and she feared they
could be right.

"What happened last night, Cat?" Osbourne
asked. "What happened to you?"

"I don't know," she said, her voice shaking.
"I'm so sorry. Let's go home."

The others nodded and followed her
wordlessly. They picked through the storm-tossed foliage but had to
backtrack several times before finding clear passage. When they
emerged in the eastern clearing, they found that it, too, was
littered with debris and slowly melting hailstones. The forest
trail was blocked in many places, and they had to shoulder through
the brambles and thorns that abounded alongside the trail.

When the forest eventually thinned, they
emerged into a bright and sunny afternoon. The valley ahead
appeared largely untouched by the storm, and it seemed as if they
were drifting out of a nightmare and back into a pleasant reality.
Catrin relaxed when she saw a part of her world unblemished, but
the images of the grove were still vivid.

Travel was easier when they were clear of the
forest, and they soon approached the stairs. They descended
carefully, aware that the slightest misstep could send them
tumbling. Strom lost his footing once and slipped, frightening
them, but he caught himself, and only loose chips of rock dropped
over the edge. It took a few moments for them to calm themselves
before continuing at a slower pace, and they were relieved when
they finally reached the bottom.

The misty air surrounding the falls drove
them onward. Once clear of the spray, they found themselves at the
shady spot where they had eaten lunch the day before. They stopped
and ate the last of their provisions in silence.

Familiar sights and smells brought Catrin
some comfort, and as the group neared her home, she began to feel
almost safe again, but the illusion was shattered when Benjin
seemed to materialize from the shadows. He placed a finger to his
lips, motioned for them to follow, and led them into a dense stand
of pines. Catrin grew even more concerned when she spotted leather
bags and packs stacked in an orderly pile, filled nearly to
overflowing. The boys followed her gaze and seemed to come to the
same cold realization: something else had gone very wrong.

"Don't have much time to talk, but I'm so
glad you're here. Wendel and I guessed the storm might bring you
home early. Couldn't be certain, but it saved me coming to find
you," Benjin said just above a whisper. "Yesterday afternoon,
y'see, there was a huge crowd at the Spring Challenges, even though
it looked like bad weather. The games were over before the storm
hit, but it was dark when everyone started to leave. Then a swift
wind parted the clouds. Don't know who saw it first, but people
shouted and cried when the comet appeared and didn't know what to
do with themselves. They just stood and gawked and carried on about
it until Nat Dersinger climbed up onto the reviewing stand.

"He started out rambling on that Istra had
returned to the skies of Godsland, and Catrin's power meant she was
the Herald of Istra. Yes, li'l miss, he called you by name. And
now, this morning, over a dozen fishing boats came back early, each
saying they had seen foreign ships. The details varied from ship to
ship, but they agreed on one thing: a large host of ships is
approaching the Godfist.

"When they heard this, people panicked and
started shouting. A bunch of angry citizens went to the farm
looking for you," he said, nodding at Catrin. "Your father and I
had anticipated trouble, and I was already packed when they got
there. I hid until they left. Your father knows how to deal with
people, and he managed to convince them he'd sent you to the cold
caves. He said you were retrieving supplies and would return on the
morrow.

"He told 'em he'd let them know as soon as
you came back, li'l miss. He need not have bothered with that, for
I'm betting the townsfolk are now watching every road and trail
that enters Harborton. I'm just glad they didn't post a sentry here
at the mountain paths, or we'd have been hard pressed. Your father
wanted to be here, but he knows he's being watched. He sends his
love and will join us when he feels it's safe for him to
escape."

"Where are we going?" Catrin asked, her voice
wavering.

"High in the mountains, there's a spot Wendel
and I found years ago. It's a good hiding place, and it has most of
what we'll need to survive. Now we need to get going. We don't want
to meet up with the townsfolk, and they could send sentries here at
any time.

"Strom, Osbourne, come with us if you wish,
but if you decide to stay, you must not tell where we are going.
Chase, your father asked me to take you along, and I hope you want
to come. He fears for your safety and thinks you'll be a help to
us."

"I'll go with you," Chase said.

"Sounds like a long camping trip. I want to
go," Osbourne added a moment later.

Strom seemed to struggle with some inner
turmoil, and they watched as they saw him thinking. "I hate to
leave Miss Mariss without a stable boy, and my mother will be
without the extra income, but I'm a terrible liar, and I'd surely
give you away if someone asked me. I think I should come too," he
said.

With that settled, Benjin repacked the
provisions and distributed the bags. Each of them was carrying a
great deal when they set off, their burdens heavier than just the
weight of the packs. Benjin led them through the trees, staying as
far from the open trail as possible and keeping to the shadows,
even though it slowed their pace.

They had covered very little distance when
the fire bells began ringing. Even from a distance, the cacophony
was startling and disconcerting. Benjin motioned for them to stop,
dropped his pack and bag, and climbed a nearby tree. It took him a
few moments to gain a clear view of the harbor. Once there, he
scanned the horizon. Cursing, he scrambled back to the anxiously
waiting group and tried to catch his breath.

"What did you see? What's happening?" Chase
asked, fear in his voice.

"The warning fires are lit," Benjin said.

"Which fires? Is the one near the Watering
Hole lit?" Strom asked anxiously.

"All of them are lit. The Godfist is under
attack." His words seemed to linger in the air, and a feeling of
impending doom crept across the group. Benjin cocked his head to
one side as if listening intently. "We need to go. Now."

"But my father . . ." Catrin protested.

"Your father can take care of himself, li'l
miss. He'd wring my neck if I let you go back there after 'im. You
know he would. You're in far more danger than he is. Now go!" he
said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. He led them on
a meandering trek from shadow to shadow. They moved as quietly as
they could, but every noise seemed to echo across the valley. They
heard no sounds of pursuit, but they would have had to struggle to
hear anything over the pounding of their hearts and their labored
breathing.

Rather than head for the falls, Benjin angled
north and east, and when they reached the eastern ridgeline, he
started up the incline. It was a difficult climb, but it would take
them into the neighboring valley, Chinawpa. It was narrower than
the fertile Pinook River Valley. Bramble and thorn bushes grew
thick, and few ventured there.

After having been hidden by the shadows,
Catrin felt as if the whole world could see her on the face of the
mountain. They climbed in anxious silence, occasionally disturbing
loose rocks, which bounced down the steep incline with what sounded
like a terrible clatter. Benjin occasionally stopped to scan the
valley for signs of pursuit, but he saw none.

Sweaty and tired, they crested the ridgeline
and stared into the valley below. The descent into the Chinawpa
Valley was not as steep as their climb had been. Benjin continued
to lead, moving carefully down the ridgeline at an angle to make
the descent more gradual. Daylight was failing them, and he
cautioned them to beware of loose rock and scree. A few tenacious
trees growing out of the rock face steadied them in treacherous
places.

It was early twilight when they finally
reached the valley floor, tired, sore, and in need of rest.

"I know you would all like to stop, but we
have to get as far away as possible before we camp for the night,"
Benjin said, although it was unnecessary to tell them what they
already knew.

Catrin trudged along behind him, not really
paying attention to where she was going, just following the body in
front of her and concentrating on staying upright. She was
exhausted, her muscles cramped, and she clutched her side as she
walked to try to ease the aching. Staying near the ridgeline, where
the vegetation was sparse, Benjin seemed to be searching for
something.

"Are we looking for something specific?"
Catrin asked in an irritated tone. She knew she sounded childish
and contrary even as the words left her lips.

"There's a place up ahead where your father
and I once made camp; it provides some shelter, but it is primarily
defensible should the need arise. I don't think we'll be found
tonight, but it's better to be prepared for the improbable--and
sometimes the impossible. You'll have to trust me that it's the
best place for us to stop," he said, continuing to walk.

Darkness settled over them and slowed their
progress. The skies were overcast, and Catrin could barely make out
the moon and comet behind the clouds. She could feel the energy
enveloping her, but it was strange and frightening, and she closed
herself to it. Still, it pulled at the edges of her mind, promising
warmth, security, and power.

"Are you all right, li'l miss?" Benjin asked,
concern clearly audible in his voice.

"I'm just tired and not feeling well," she
replied, feeling guilty for telling only part of the truth, but she
wasn't going to tell them about her strange yearnings for power.
She wouldn't blame any of them for thinking she was a witch, and at
this point, she was decidedly unsure of herself.

"We're just about there. We'll be resting
soon, I promise. Just a little farther," Benjin said, and soon they
approached a huge split in the rock face. An enormous slab of stone
leaned against the valley wall, leaving a gap several paces wide.
It was open on both ends, providing two routes of escape. They
filed into the gap and dropped their packs. Chase began to set up a
fire circle, but Benjin waved him from the task.

"No fire tonight, I'm afraid. It's just too
risky."

The others knew he was right, but that did
little to improve the atmosphere. They ate a cold meal in relative
silence; then Benjin urged them to get some sleep, saying he would
take the first watch. Deep breathing and occasional snores soon
surrounded Catrin, but she could not sleep. Despite her weariness,
she lay awake, wondering if she would ever feel safe again.

* * *

From high on a hill, Wendel watched the Zjhon
come, frozen in morbid fascination as what looked like a wave of
fire and destruction rolled through Harborton and the lowlands.
He'd come here to survey the situation, to reassure himself that
his friends, neighbors, and countrymen would be fine and that going
after Catrin would jeopardize no one. Watching the horror unfold
before him, he was faced with a new question: Would staying to
defend his homeland make any difference?