Call of the Herald (34 page)

Her energy vortex raged on, unabated, and the
eye wall was nearly on them. As the winds pounded against her
power, they were forced aside and sheared off, causing them to spin
wildly. The intense rotation spawned monstrous waterspouts that
thrashed violently through the harbor, tossing ships about like
children's toys. Several waterspouts became tornadoes as they left
the water and moved over dry land.

Catrin sought more Zjhon ships, but the high
winds and rain had returned with the other side of the cyclone's
wall and obscured her vision. Determined, she reached out to them
with her power alone, casting her energy over the water, feeling
her way to the ships as if her power were an extension of her
fingers. When she sensed the wooden sides, she knew she had found a
target.

Her energy cast about the ship and located
the mainmast. She attached a thread and fed it negative energy.
Within a short time, lightning pounded her target and illuminated
the spectacle for all to see. She released the link more quickly
this time, but the bolt of lightning still came perilously close to
reaching her, daring her to try again. Massive hail fell from the
skies, pounding the ships mercilessly, and Catrin tried to target
ships that were less damaged. Soon, the entire harbor appeared to
be afire, and despite the driving rain, the fires spread and
intensified.

Catrin noticed a nearby ship, which was
largely undamaged, and reached out to it, calling the lightning to
do her will. Too late she realized the
Slippery Eel
had also
built up a massive negative charge. Looking up she saw a fireball
racing along a jagged course. It slammed into the mainmast, and she
was helpless to protect herself as it descended on her. It struck
with a force greater than anything she had ever imagined, and the
ropes securing her were vaporized, along with much of her hair and
clothing. She fell to the deck, stunned and smoking, her energy
vortex collapsing. Darkness overwhelmed her.

* * *

When Catrin opened her eyes, she was lying
faceup on the heaving deck. Disoriented, she had difficulty
focusing her thoughts. She was about to pull herself back to the
mast when a bizarre phenomenon occurred: hundreds of fish, large
and small, rained from the sky. It was a dangerous spectacle, and
Catrin was struck in the leg by an enormous jellyfish. The
gelatinous creature exploded on impact, and its stinging tentacles
caused intense pain. Reaching the mast, she wrapped her arms and
legs around its base and held on. Flames danced amid the rigging,
but the fire was quickly extinguished.

Exhaustion overcame Catrin, her mind and body
screamed for rest, but if she relented, she knew all aboard the
Slippery Eel
would surely perish in the powerful storm.
Forcing herself to concentrate, she worked to reestablish her
protective energy vortex. When she reached for the comet, though,
the exertion was just too much in her weakened state. Struggling to
hang on to the mast and remain conscious, she closed her eyes and
squeezed herself tight around the mast.

The carved fish dug into her chest where it
still hung on its leather thong. She had forgotten about it, and it
gave her enough hope to try again. She pulled the carving from her
shirt and lifted the thong over her head. Placing the small fish in
her palm, she wrapped the thong around her fingers. With the
carving firmly secured, she tried again to create a vortex.

The carving grew warm in her hand as she drew
on it, and she reached into the night sky. Heavy water vapor in the
air thrashed her vortex wildly as it tried to form. Catrin poured
herself into the vortex. Straining with everything within her, she
fed the vortex with every emotion she contained. Fear, anger,
resentment, joy, and love all went into the shimmering funnel. It
fluctuated and wobbled around her, liquid veins of color dancing
across its surface, but it finally established itself and became
organized.

As the vortex grew, chaos ensued throughout
the harbor as more waterspouts were spawned, and lightning picked
its own targets. The vortex provided some protection from the
storm, but not all dangers would be so easily held at bay. Catrin
was nearly knocked loose from the mast when another ship crashed
into them. It had broken loose from its moorings and was now being
tossed around the harbor. It rammed against the
Eel
several
times before finally breaking free, sent spinning toward shore by
the driving winds.

The carved fish had grown hot in her hand,
but she continued to draw on the energy reserves it provided,
determined to protect the ship and its men from further damage. It
was obvious the ship was wounded because she had begun to list to
one side, but Catrin could hear the crew still working the bilges,
and she prayed the
Eel
would remain afloat.

The relentless storm pounded them for what
seemed an eternity, putting Catrin's endurance to the test. She
lost feeling in her limbs, and her mind grew fuzzy; she could no
longer remember why she needed the vortex so badly, but some part
of her held on tenaciously. Only when she felt a hand settle on her
shoulder did she become aware of her surroundings again. The dawn
had come, the storm passed, and still she held on to the dwindling
vortex.

Once fully convinced she no longer needed it,
she released the energy and slumped forward. Her body was leaden,
and her heart seemed weary of beating. The hand was still on her
shoulder, and she looked up to find Nat looking at her with extreme
concern. He had risked himself by reaching through her vortex to
touch her.

"Are you well?" he asked as he wrapped her in
a thick blanket.

"I don't think so."

"What did this to you," he asked.

"Lightning," she responded, unable to
elaborate.

As her senses returned, she felt intense pain
in her right hand, and she opened it slowly. The leather thong was
still twined around her fingers, but as her hand opened, the fish
carving crumbled into dust. Instinctively she knew she had lost
something far more important than a simple carving or even a mighty
tool. She'd destroyed something precious and irreplaceable. The
flesh of her palm was covered with tiny blisters, and when she
concentrated on it, the pain was overwhelming. She would have
collapsed on the spot, but she saw the rest of the crew hurriedly
preparing for their departure. The crew repaired what damage they
could, and the
Slippery Eel
soon began limping toward the
open seas.

"I want to go back. I want to go home,"
Catrin said.

"Do you think they will welcome you? Do you
think peace can so easily be achieved?" Nat asked, shaking his
head. "I think not. Your countrymen have already declared you a
witch and were ready to turn you over to the Zjhon. And what of the
Zjhon? You may have declared them citizens of the Godfist, but you
also sentenced them to a hard winter here. You stole from them
their only way home." He placed his hand on her shoulder to soften
the blow of his words.

"No, Catrin. You cannot go home now. I see
dark days ahead on the Godfist, and I fully expect there to be
unrest, if not civil war. But even if none of this were true, I
would still urge you to seek out knowledge that cannot be found
here. I know little of your power, but I know one thing for
certain: if you do not find a way to better control your gifts,
then they will be the instruments of your destruction."

In the silence that followed, Kenward shifted
uncomfortably and waited for Catrin to respond, but she did not.
"Do you want me to take you home?" he asked, earning a glare from
Nat.

"I do," she responded softly, her eyes
downcast. "But I cannot go back. Nat is right. I must go to the
Greatland and seek out the Cathurans. I must learn to control my
power. It's what Benjin wanted. It's what my father would
want."

Kenward nodded and returned to his work. Nat
put his hands on Catrin's shoulders and turned her to face him. "I
know this is hard for you, and I know it's not what you desire, but
you do what is right."

Catrin walked to the bow of the ship in
silence. She took one last look at her homeland, knowing she might
never see it again. Only when the Godfist had dwindled in the
distance did she pull herself from the heart-wrenching sight and
shuffle to her cabin.

Just as she was entering the deckhouse, one
of the crew shouted in alarm. In the distance, the
Slippery
Eel
's sister ship appeared on the horizon. The Zjhon had
captured the
Stealthy Shark
during the raid on the pirate's
cove, and no doubt they now planned to use her to their advantage.
The
Shark
appeared to have less damage than the
Eel
and was moving swiftly toward them.

Catrin's will and energy were spent. She
climbed into the hammock and tried to think of a way to evade the
ship, but her muddled thoughts were indistinct, and she fell
exhausted into a deep sleep.

Epilogue

Premon Dalls crouched in the drainage ditch,
waiting for the Zjhon patrol to pass. Acrid smoke still hung heavy
in the air, stinging his eyes and irritating his throat, making him
fear he would soon be coughing. Debris from the storm littered the
ditch, and he pulled as much as he could over him, trying to make
himself invisible.

He assumed these men were still loyal to
General Dempsy since they still marched in formation and there was
no one he recognized in the group. The defectors were with the
followers of Wendel Volker since the Masters refused to accept any
of them. With tensions rising between the Masters and the rebels,
as Wendel's followers were called, the mysterious presence of the
tribes of Arghast only increased the uncertainty of the situation.
How they had come to be allied with the rebels was still a
mystery.

Spying on the rebels had yielded little new
information, but Premon was determined to use every morsel to his
advantage. His plain looks had been a handicap when he was an
ambitious young man struggling to gain status, but now his
appearance was a benefit. Few took notice of him, and even fewer
knew his name.

Getting back to the Masterhouse was proving
to be more difficult than ever before, as the Zjhon patrolled
constantly, seemingly intent on maintaining control over the docks
and shipyards. This was not an entirely bad thing, for when the
Zjhon repaired their ships and left the Godfist, he would be
free.

For the moment, though, he was content to
wait.

* * *

While it was still dark, Premon hauled
himself out from the mud and trash and crept to the foul-smelling
sewer grate he'd told Peten Ross about. Looking around to make sure
no one was nearby, he removed the broken bar from the grate and set
it inside. Even with the bar removed, he had to squeeze through,
and he was bruised and scratched by the time he got down into the
sewer. He replaced the broken bar and picked up the torches and
flint he'd stashed there several days before. The stench was
overwhelming, and he struggled to breathe.

By the time he reached the drain that led to
the upper halls of the Masterhouse, his sense of smell was gone,
and the powerful odor no longer bothered him. The steep climb to
the upper halls was an even worse part of the journey, but he
suffered through it, thinking of the future. A place of power
awaited him, and it would all be worth it.

Using one of the many service tunnels to gain
access to the Masterhouse, Premon made his way to the appointed
place without being seen. Once within the darkened room, which was
little more than a closet, he waited.

He was sleeping when Master Edling finally
arrived, and Premon struggled to pull himself from his stupor.

"Don't you ever bathe?" Master Edling asked,
covering his nose and mouth with his hand.

"Stealth has its price," Premon said,
shrugging.

"What have you found out?"

Premon thought for a moment before he
replied. "The rebels plan to take back the farmlands and the
highlands and leave Harborton to you."

"How very kind of them."

"I've heard talk of settling the Zjhon
defectors in the upper Pinook and Chinawpa valleys. It seems
they're willing to give away our lands to the enemy," Premon
continued.

Master Edling appeared lost in his own
ruminations, and Premon pressed on, hoping to gain any advantage he
could. "General Dempsy's men have already repaired one warship, and
they are scavenging materials to repair more. From what I've heard,
they plan to pursue the Volker girl once they have three seaworthy
ships. The deserters will be left behind."

Master Edling watched Premon but showed no
reaction.

"There is one other thing," Premon continued,
his lips curling into a sneer. "Wendel Volker sleeps in an
unguarded room near one of the shafts that allow fresh air into the
cold caves."

"Does he now?" Master Edling said, raising
his eyes to meet Premon's. "It would be a pity if he were to die in
his sleep, especially with no one to inherit his lands."

Premon could not keep the smile from his
lips. "Indeed," he said, a plan already forming in his mind. Acres
of farmland were far from enough to satisfy him, but it was a
beginning.

Born in Salem, New Jersey, Brian spent much
of his childhood on the family farm, where his family raised and
trained Standardbred racehorses. Brian lives with his wife, Tracey,
in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains. After years in the
world of Internet technology, the writing of this trilogy has been
a dream come true for Brian and what feels like a return to his
roots.

For more information, visit
http://BrianRathbone.com