Call of the Herald (2 page)

Anyone from the countryside was a target, but
it was her friend Osbourne Macano, son of a pig farmer, who bore
the brunt of their abuses. The low regard in which his family
profession was held and his unassuming manner made him an easy
target. He had never fought back, and still the attacks continued.
Chase, Catrin's beloved cousin, felt they should stand up for
themselves since passive resistance had proven fruitless. What
choice did they have?

Catrin understood his motives, but to her,
the problem seemed unsolvable. Surely retaliation would not end the
struggle, but neither had inaction, which left her in a quandary.
Chase seemed to think they needed only to scare the townies once to
make them realize such treatment would not be tolerated. That, he
said, was the only way to gain their respect, if not their
friendship. She could see his logic, but she also saw other, less
appealing possibilities, such as a swift and violent response or
even expulsion from the school lessons. Too many things could go
wrong.

Chase was determined, though, and she would
support him and Osbourne in their fight, if that was their choice.
But she did not have to like it.

From bribing a woman who had once worked as
Peten's nursemaid, Chase learned that Peten had a terrible fear of
snakes--any snake, not just the venomous varieties. Chase planned
to catch a snake and sneak it into the hall during lessons, though
he admitted he had no plan for getting it near Peten without being
seen. Just thinking about it, Catrin began to feel queasy, and she
concentrated even more on her work. As she slid the heavy barn door
closed to keep out the wind, she was submerged in darkness and had
to resweep the floor by the light of her lantern.

Her father and Benjin, his close friend, were
returning from the pastures with a pair of weanlings just as she
lugged her saddle into Salty's stall. She watched the skittish colt
and filly enter the barn wide eyed, but they gave the experienced
men little trouble and would soon become accustomed to frequent
handling. The lamplight cast a glow on Benjin's dark features. Bits
of gray showed in his neatly trimmed beard, and his ebon hair was
pulled back in a braid, giving him the look of a wise but
formidable man.

Salty, Catrin's six-year-old chestnut
gelding, must have sensed she was in a rush, for he chose to make
her life even more difficult. He danced away from her as she tossed
the saddle over his back, and when she grabbed him by the halter
and looked him in the eye, he just snorted and stepped on her toes.
After pushing him off her foot, she prepared to tighten the girth,
and Salty drew in a deep breath, making himself as big as possible.
Catrin knew his tricks and had no desire to find herself in a loose
saddle. Kneeing him in the ribs just enough to make him exhale, she
cinched the strap to the wear marks. Salty nipped her on the
shoulder, letting her know he didn't appreciate her spoiling his
joke.

Dawn backlit the mountains, and heavy cloud
cover rode in with the wind. A light spray was falling as Catrin
walked Salty from the low-ceilinged barn into the barnyard. Salty
danced and spun as she mounted, but she got one foot in the stirrup
and a hand on the saddle horn, which was enough to pull herself up
even as he pranced. His antics were harmless, but Catrin had no
time for them, and she drove her heels into his flanks with a
chirrup to urge him forward.

In that, at least, he did not disappoint as
he leaped to a fast trot. She would have given him his head and let
him gallop, but the wagon trail was growing muddy and slick in the
steady rain. Cattleman Gerard appeared in the haze ahead, his
oxcart leaving churned mud in its wake. Trees lined the narrow
trail, and Catrin had to slow Salty to a walk until they cleared
the woods. When they reached a clearing, she passed Gerard at a
trot, waving as she rode by, and he gave her a quick wave in
return.

Fierce gusts drove stinging rain into her
eyes, and she could barely see the Masterhouse huddled against the
mountains; in the distance, only its massive outline was visible.
Harborton materialized from the deluge, and as she approached, the
rain dwindled. The cobbled streets were barely damp, and the
townsfolk who milled about were not even wet. In contrast, Catrin
was bespattered and soaked, looking as if she had been wallowing in
mud, and she received many disapproving looks as she trotted Salty
through town.

The aroma of fresh-baked bread wafting from
the bakery made her stomach grumble, and the smell of bacon from
the Watering Hole was alluring. In her rush, she had forgotten to
eat, and she hoped her stomach would not be talkative during the
lessons, a sure way to irritate Master Edling.

She passed the watchtower and the large iron
ring that served as a fire bell, and she spotted her uncle, Jensen,
as he dropped off Chase on his way to the sawmill. He waved and
smiled as she approached, and she blew him a kiss. Chase climbed
from the wagon, looking impish, and Catrin's appetite fled. She had
hoped he would fail in his snake hunt, but his demeanor indicated
that he had not, and when the leather bag on his belt moved, any
doubts she had left her. How he had concealed the snake from her
uncle was a mystery, but that was Chase, the boy who could do what
no one else would dare attempt.

His mother and hers had died fifteen years
before on the same day and under mysterious circumstances; no one
understood what killed them. Since then, Chase seemed determined to
prove that he wasn't afraid of anything or anyone.

Catrin pulled Salty up alongside him, and
they entered the stables together. Once clear of the gate, she
turned to the right, hoping to slip into her usual stall unnoticed,
but instead she saw another insult. All the stalls were taken,
despite there being plenty for those students who rode. Many of the
townies, including Peten, rode to the lessons even though they were
within walking distance. In a parade of wealth and arrogance, they
flaunted their finely made saddles with gilded trim. It seemed they
now felt they needed pages to attend to their mounts, and they,
too, must ride. It was the pages' horses that had caused the
shortage of stalls. Catrin stopped Salty and just stared, trying to
decide what to do.

"What's going on, Cat?" Chase bellowed. "Have
the townies gotten so fat they need two horses to carry each of
them?"

"Hush, I don't want any trouble," she said
with a pointed glance at his writhing bag. "I'll stable Salty at
the Watering Hole."

"Strom may let you stable him there, but
certainly not for free. Where does it stop, Cat? How much abuse do
they think we'll tolerate?" he asked, sounding more incensed with
each word.

"I don't have time for this now. I'll see you
at the lesson," she said, turning Salty. Chirruping, she gave him a
bit of her heels, trotted him around the block, and slowed only
when she neared Baker Hollis, who was busy sweeping the walk. He
gave her a sidelong glance and shuffled into the bakery. Inside,
Catrin saw his daughter, Trinda, who stared with haunted eyes. She
rarely left the bakery, and it was said she spoke even less often.
Most thought she was daft, but Catrin suspected something entirely
different, something much more sinister.

As she turned into the alley behind the
Watering Hole, she whistled for Strom, who emerged from the stable
looking tired and irritable.

"Cripes, it's early, Cat. What brings you
here?" he asked, rubbing his eyes. He had once attended the lessons
and had been friends with Catrin and Chase. After his father died,
though, he had gone to work as a stable boy for Miss Mariss to help
support his mother. He was shunned by most. His humble
circumstances and departure from the lessons marked him as
undesirable in the eyes of many, but Catrin enjoyed his company and
considered him a good friend.

"I'm sorry to wake you, but I really need to
stable Salty here today. The stable at the academy is full, and I'm
already late. Please let me keep him here--just for today," she
asked with her most appealing look.

"If Miss Mariss finds out, she'll have my
hide for a carpet. I can only stable a horse if the owner
patronizes the inn and pays a copper for the stall," he said.

Digging into her coin purse, Catrin pulled
out a worn silver half she'd been saving for an emergency. She
tossed it to Strom. "Buy yourself something to eat and take good
care of Salty for me. I have to go," she said as she grabbed her
wax pad from her saddlebags.

Strom rolled the coin across his knuckles as
she sprinted away. "I hate to take your money, Cat, but I assure
you it won't go to waste!" he shouted.

Catrin raced back to the academy, turning
toward the lesson hall at a full run. Master Beron shouted for her
to slow down, but she was nearly there. She reached the door and
opened it as quietly as she could, but the hinge betrayed her,
squeaking loudly. Everyone in the room turned to see who would be
the target of Master Edling's ire, and Catrin felt her face
flush.

She entered with mumbled apologies and
quickly sought a vacant desk. The townies gave her nasty looks and
placed their wax tablets on the empty chairs near them, clearly
indicating she was not welcome. In her rush to reach the desk next
to Chase, her wet boots slipped on the polished floor, leaving her
suspended in air for an instant before she hit with a crash. The
air rushed from her lungs with a whoosh, and the room erupted in
laughter.

As soon as she regained her breath, she
immediately held it, seeing Chase take advantage of the
distraction. He slinked behind Peten and slid the leather pouch
under his chair. The drawstrings were untied and the top lay open,
but nothing emerged. Catrin stood and quickly took the seat between
Chase and Osbourne, still blushing furiously.

"This isn't going to go well for you, Cat.
Edling looks boiled," Osbourne whispered, but Master Edling
interrupted in a loud voice.

"Now that Miss Volker has seen fit to join
us, perhaps she will allow us to commence. What say you, Miss
Volker? Shall we begin, or do you need more leisure time?" he
asked, looking down his nose, and several of the townies sniggered,
casting her knowing glances. Catrin just mumbled and nodded. She
was grateful when Master Edling began his lecture on the holy war;
at least he was no longer adding to her embarrassment by making a
bigger fool of her.

"When Istra last graced the skies," he began,
"the Zjhon and Varic nations waged a holy war that lasted hundreds
of years. They fought over conflicting interpretations of religious
documents, none of which could be proved or disproved. Meanwhile,
the Elsic nation remained neutral, often acting as a mediator
during peace talks. Many times peace was made only to be broken
again upon the first provocation.

"Then there came a new Elsic leader, Von of
the Elsics. He ascended the throne after killing his uncle, King
Venes. Von had been clever and murdered his uncle during the
harvest festival, when there were hundreds of people in attendance
who might have wanted the king dead. No one could identify the
killer, and a veil of suspicion hung over the court. Elaborate
conspiracy theories were rampant, and Von encouraged them since
they served his purposes well. Those who believed treachery was
afoot were much less likely to speak out for fear of being the next
mysterious death."

The teacher droned on. "Von believed his
nation's historical neutrality in the war was folly and that it
would be better to conquer both nations while they were weakened by
the prolonged war. The Elsics did not condone the use of Istra's
powers, claiming it was blasphemous, and none of their scholars
were skilled in arcana. Von had no large army at his disposal
either, so he concluded that Istra's power was the only way he
could defeat both nations. He would use the very powers that were
flaunted by the Zjhon and the Varics as the agents of their
destruction.

"He staged clandestine raids against each
nation, disguising his men as soldiers from the opposing nation.
His instructions were clear: he wanted people captured, not killed,
because he wanted slaves. Those captured were transported in secret
to the Knell Downs, which we believe to be high in the Pinook
Mountains. Camps were built, and the slaves were forced to
experiment with creating powerful weapons using Istra's power.

"There were many failures, as most of those
captured had no experience in such things, but after countless
attempts, a slave named Imeteri made a deadly discovery. Weakened
from working in stuffy quarters, he convinced his captors to let
him work outside whenever the sun shone. His efforts were fruitless
for many weeks, and many of his experiments lay about in disarray,
unfinished or forgotten completely, except for the details in his
copious notes. Most of them consisted of various compounds of
elements he placed in clay mugs, which he sealed with mud. One day,
while working on his experiments, an explosion knocked him off his
feet, and he knew one of his concoctions had worked. It took many
more efforts for him to duplicate his success.

"One major problem was that his explosive
needed to charge in the light of both Istra and Vestra before it
would detonate. As it became saturated with energy, it would begin
to glow, gradually getting brighter and brighter until it would
eventually explode.

"Von was pleased by Imeteri's discovery, and
after several refinements and small-scale demonstrations, he
declared it the success he had been looking for. Imeteri was raised
to the highest status of slave, barely less than a free man. Von
ordered the other slaves to build enormous statues in the likeness
of Istra and Vestra sharing a loving embrace. These great behemoths
became known as the Statues of Terhilian, and packed with the new
explosive, they were sent to the various Zjhon and Varic cities.
Appearing to be tokens of peace, they were readily accepted and
revered. The wars had drained the Zjhon and Varic nations, and
lacking the resources to fight, they were relieved to receive the
gifts.