Brian Rathbone: Regent

Familiar hands pulled her into the hold, and tears came to Catrin's downcast eyes.

"Thank the gods you're back!" Farsy said, and Catrin felt wholly unworthy of his enthusiasm.

"I'm sorry," was all Catrin could manage to say.

A long silence hung between them, but the cries of dragon and demon filled the space.

She turned to Pelivor. "I know I can ask no more of you, but I will. Pelivor, you must protect us," she said as she handed him the spider globe.

He looked intrigued at first when he saw the globe, but when it dropped into his palm, there was an audible click and a small spark. His eyes went wide, but a smile crossed his lips. The smile faded when she handed him the lance, his hand sliding into the guard and closing over the handle of her sword. "The rest of you, please get the drums."

"Oh, no," came Kenward's voice from behind. "You're not leaving us again."

"I can go with or without your help, Kenward, but I am far more likely to return if you help me."

Kenward stepped backward, as if Catrin had struck him, but he knew the stakes. This was no time for hurt feelings. He could get her back for those later, provided they survived. The captain looked critically at Pelivor. "Can you protect us?"

Pelivor responded by smiling and holding his hands out to his sides. Preternatural breezes stirred the silks he wore, and light danced around him. When he spoke, it was not to Kenward. "Death awaits those who would do us harm!" The words rang through the vale, the deep bass of his voice amplified by the power flowing through him. The spider globe sent beams of light from within his clenched fist as he held it high. In his other hand, he held Catrin's lance, and he leveled it at an oncoming feral. He did not wait for the dragon to get close. He used the lance to focus his attack into a narrow beam of boiling liquid fire that seared the air with a roar.

Catrin turned to Kenward. "Drums!"

The journey to the Godfist took only the span of a thought, but Catrin's spirit slowed before actually reaching her homeland. Had she been able to, she would have traveled directly to Sinjin's side, but the air grew thick with energy and malicious intent. Hatred washed over her, and it made her want to scream. It was like being covered in fire ants.

Dark with malevolence, an unnatural storm, seemingly ready to swallow the world, dominated the horizon. Vast networks of lightning jumped across its surface, and the thunder was nearly continuous. Smaller patches of darkness coalesced and gathered into formations-dragons of black fire with riders of pure night.

Never before had Catrin witnessed such utter wrongness, such warping of nature, and she felt naked against the storm. Twisted darkness, launched from the fingertips of the black dragon riders, streaked toward Catrin. She prepared for the assault, casting out defensive energy. As he had in the past, Kyrien took the brunt of the attack, having seemingly appeared from nowhere, his energetic form of lightning and fire pulsing with light. He was a jewel amid the horror.

More attacks came and Kyrien could not absorb them all. Doing so would likely kill him, and Catrin cried out for him to stop. There were simply too many attacks coming at once. Catrin and Kyrien were alone against thousands, and their numbers seemed to grow continually. Weariness overwhelmed her and a sense of resignation took hold. This was a battle she could not win. When she saw Thorakis, the feeling of utter defeat solidified.

Shining like a black sun, he rode atop a gleaming feral dragon. Even at a distance, recognition caught in Catrin's throat. In one hand, Thorakis held a staff; in the other, a carving. A cry escaped Catrin when she realized he held the Staff of Life and Koe. Both were precious to her and held great power. Each had been shaped by her hand, in their own way, and she could not imagine standing against their combined might. Ever since she had carved Koe, she had not wanted to know what it would feel like to be faced with his aggressive stance, and now she knew; it was terrifying. There was only one consolation, and that was Thorakis did not rest his fingers in the grooves left by Catrin's grip. For some reason that made her feel better; the thought if his touching those places made her feel ill.

Thorakis gave her little time to contemplate his presence before he lashed out. Torrents of power slammed into Catrin, and it felt like being caught in the surf before a storm. Energy pounded against her with relentless force, and she felt as if she were being torn apart. In the next instant, she could almost hear Kenward shouting. His words had no meaning, though they did serve as the slightest warning before power surged through her. It was a source she recognized: the queen's saddle. The instant she felt one of the straps hit her physical hand, she sensed the saddle and Kyrien. Looking down, she saw his fiery form now under her, and together they felt more powerful. Their energies mingled and where she was weak, he was strong, and she felt she brought something to him as well. He was not incomplete without her, but together they were stronger. That thought comforted her, as did the momentary clarity with which she heard Kenward say, "Go get 'em, Cat!"

Emotion threatened to overwhelm her, but she kept it in check, using it instead to fuel her rage and fury against the darkness that sought to despoil all she loved. From Kyrien she sensed the burning desire for revenge, not so much out of spite, but out of the need to absolve his guilt. He had let the regent queen die. He had betrayed his own kind, and no knowledge could be so damning. Catrin could not completely understand his inner struggle; she could not grasp his relationship with the queen nor truly understand how he had betrayed his kind. It was very clear, however, that Kyrien believed he had done just that. Though Catrin had shown love to the regent queen, she hated her for that last bit of spite with which she inflicted this guilt on Kyrien. But the regent queen was dead.

Emitting a roar that would make a lion quail, Catrin unleashed a wave of furious attacks, the line of energy extending back to her physical form now blazing like a new star. Deep troughs tore through the darkness, but like the deepest ocean, more flooded into the void, making it look as if her attack had done no damage at all. Twice more she cast out weblike attacks, trying to break the darkness into smaller chunks, but again it flowed back together. Then there was no more time for attacks.

From every direction came a massive assault that dwarfed all those before it. It felt to Catrin as if her universe was collapsing in on itself, and she was at the very center of that crushing weight. Despite her power, despite her will, and even in the face of her closest ally, Kyrien, this attack made them seem insignificant. Nothing could withstand so much hatred. None could endure so many wishing they had never existed. It was the most terrible thing Catrin had ever experienced, being made to think that she was worse than useless; her very existence was harmful to everything else around her.

Seethe. Kyrien uttered a single word in Catrin's mind, and instantly she knew that Thorakis was not the true threat. The real threat was Seethe, the dragon Thorakis rode. Seethe was not Thorakis's dragon; Thorakis was one of Seethe's many humans. This realization struck Catrin like a thunderbolt, and she looked into the feral dragon's eyes, trying to understand the true threat.

You are worthless. Give yourself to me, and you will be part of something much stronger. How can you hope to stand against this?

The thunderous voice in her mind was accompanied by a wave of compulsion that made what Archmaster Belegra had done look like friendly persuasion. This voice sought to obliterate all thought but its own, and it hammered at her as the collective will of tens of thousands joined in. Then something occurred to Catrin: If the feral dragons were so powerful, why did they need humans?