Brian Rathbone: Regent

In truth, there were plenty of raw materials on the Firstland; what Kenward lacked were the skilled hands of shipbuilders and the leisure to employ them. As it was, he had only the hands of sailors. There was not a safe place to be found except where they stood, and with only a single dragon remaining, he wondered how long this place would remain safe. Thunderclaps split the air, and the screams of demons followed. Everyone in the vale scrambled to high ground, peering into the war-torn valley beyond and trying to catch a glimpse of what was going on. Most already realized that what they heard was Catrin, and if she was still fighting, then there was still hope.

Lightning and fire coursed in and out of the top of the nearby mountain, as if the mountain itself were breathing fire. Dark bodies were tossed into the air and fell back down into the clogged valley below, their bodies acting as weapons as they tore through the rest of the demons trying to reach the top of the mountain. A gasp from behind made Kenward turn, and he saw what had frightened Farsy. Pelivor stood with his arms raised, and power pulsed around his hands like liquid light. A stream of it stretched across the empty air, reaching for Catrin, but what was even more amazing and terrifying was the white hot line that extended from the mountaintop toward Pelivor, as if Catrin were trying to connect with him.

When the two streams of energy were still some distance apart, the air between them filled with a humming line of plasma, and once the two flows were connected, a thundering crack split the air and knocked everyone except Pelivor back. He stood rooted in place, engulfed in a raging torrent of energy. There was no fear in his face, though, only a look of awe and sudden understanding. Then he started to move like a machine, his fists pumping in and out, and each movement released a swirling conflagration that he hurled at the demons and giants.

Kenward knew this could be the savior of them all, but it also meant that the demons would know exactly where they were and would surely send forces here to deal with them. The last remaining regent dragon looked down at Pelivor and gave a cry. Kenward tried to discern what the cry meant, but it soon did not matter as the dragon leaped from its perch of stone and disappeared into the air beyond.

"So much for the loyalty of dragons," Kenward said.

Feeling like the wind itself, Catrin attacked. Everywhere she turned, demons flew like leaves in the wind. Her sword high and the spider globe sending light streaming out through the gaps in her clenched fist, Catrin roared a primal battle cry. Twice she pumped her fist, and thunder shook the mountain. Wild energy reached out from her and licked the walls. Her hair rustled in a preternatural wind that gusted within the charged field around her.

The regent queen turned to look at her. You should be gone. Call him to you. Use the saddle and lance. Become your destiny and leave me to my fate.

"I don't want you to die." It was the most honest thing Catrin could say.

You are a credit to your race that you would still feel that way given my treatment of you. I'm afraid it is too late to save me, and in attempting to do so, you are endangering your kind's future. We are lost but I'll not allow you to be lost as well. Now go! Kyrien! To me!

The last might not have been intended for Catrin to hear, but the powerful call must have been heard on the other side of the world. Catrin reeled with the power of it, but she knew now the best thing she could do was get Kyrien saddled and fight the enemy from the air. She could save the regent queen yet.

But Kyrien did not come. No one could have resisted that call, and Catrin's heart climbed into her throat. The world moved unexpectedly as darkness crowded her vision. The thought of Kyrien lost, all of his kind dead or dying, nearly brought Catrin to her knees. Needing strength, she reached out for something familiar and comforting. Like the swiftest arrow, power extended from her outstretched hands toward Pelivor. The essence of him slammed into her an instant later, and lightning cleaved the air between them.

Catrin staggered back to her feet, feeling the texture of the energy Pelivor lent her and, in doing so, learning all he knew about controlling the power and building efficient structures with energy. His mind amazed her in its precision and logic, the way he moved through problems by breaking them into smaller pieces and tackling each piece individually. Another energy responded to her call, and Catrin was shocked to see Kyrien land within the great hall. Blood dripped from what seemed a thousand wounds, and his nostrils flared with his rapid breathing. Frothy foam gathered around his legs, which trembled as he stood, panting. Never before had Catrin seen a creature that had given so much of itself. Kyrien looked as if he would drop over dead at any instant, and Catrin ran to him, her energy already caressing him, bolstering him, healing him.

No! his voice rang in her mind. Save your energy for the fight. I will survive.

Catrin wanted to argue, wanted to take the time to tend his wounds and give him time to recover, but he pushed her before him, his muzzle driving her toward the saddle.

If this must be done, then let us do it. I can no longer take the guilt. Let this be at an end.

Catrin moved as if in a dream, her mind unable to cope with the consequences of this day. Never before had she seen a species wiped from existence, and she prayed she'd never witness it again. When she sat astride Kyrien, goggles on and strapped in, she could barely remember how she had come to be there, and she marveled at the beauty of the saddle. In her hand waited the greatest shock: a lance of gleaming filigree extending from the sword Strom had made for her, as if the two had been made to fit together. When Catrin's memories began to return, she realized that the sword had been made to Kyrien's specifications, yet she could not reconcile why Kyrien would have done that if this were not supposed to happen. Taking a deep breath, Catrin had no choice but to return her attention to the present. Atop the saddle, Catrin felt secure; the many buckles on her leather flight pants allowed her to strap in. Again she was amazed at the foresight of her dragon.

Kyrien, though seeming only slightly recovered from battle, tucked his wings and charged back into the great hall. An unbidden battle cry issued from Catrin's lips, and it turned to a scream as Kyrien leaped from the heights without ever opening his wings. Demons clogged the entrances and flew into the open air before Kyrien's maddened charge. With a trail of energy leading back to Pelivor and the wind trying to tear her apart, they fell like a stone. There were lurches and bumps in their descent that Catrin eventually realized were the times Kyrien attacked. They dived along the mountain face, Kyrien extending his wings in only small amounts to make adjustments to their flight path. Catrin would have launched attacks of her own, but she could not get her body to respond; the forces acting on it were simply too intense. Even her scream was choked away.

Then the saddle pressed into her hard, and Kyrien extended his wings. Catrin saw the army of demons, giants, and men in orderly formations, waiting to fill the void when their comrades fell. Finally Catrin was able to control herself, and she reached out for energy. She nearly swooned. The saddle responded with alacrity. The charge of millennia leaped to her call. The fiery link with Pelivor surged, and the energy of the comets resonated in a way she'd never felt before.

You're burning up!