Brian Rathbone: Inherited Danger

Catrin felt good for her efforts. Hard work had always helped keep her from worrying over things she couldn't change.

After stowing the rope and canvas in her cabin, she sought out Nat. Their conversation was unfinished, and she needed to know what else he planned to tell her. His cabin door was closed, but she could hear him moving within. She knocked lightly and waited.

Nat opened the door and sighed when he saw her. "Come in. I suppose you want to hear the rest," he said while pulling himself into his hammock. He stared at the ceiling as he spoke.

"When your father, Benjin, and I were about your age, my father had a vision. He was convinced the Zjhon would attack the Godfist. I did not believe him then. As far as I knew, our people hadn't encountered any others in hundreds, if not thousands, of years. I'd begun to see truth in what others said about him. I thought he was stricken by madness.

"He tried to convince me to go to the Greatland to search for information. I refused. I wanted only to court Julet and convince her to marry me. He said terrible things would happen if I did not go, but I was young, stubborn, and foolish," he said, his voice overlaid by the waves of anxiety that poured from him like a wellspring.

"He gave up on me and approached your father. Wendel was proud and brash and would do just about anything to prove his bravery. When my father challenged him, your father took the bait, hook and line. There was nothing anyone could do to dissuade him, not that many knew of the situation." He drew a deep breath before continuing. "Benjin thought the quest was a delusion, and he argued with your father, but somehow Wendel convinced him to go."

Nat's tone had gradually changed until he seemed to be talking to himself, having forgotten she was there, consumed as he was in his own memories. "Father made the arrangements. Benjin and Wendel boarded a small pirate ship along the southern shores of the Godfist. They were supposed to travel to the Falcon Isles but somehow managed to travel all the way to the Greatland aboard that small vessel. It's a wonder they did not perish." Nat grew quiet, his hands balled into fists, and Catrin thought she heard a growl escape his throat. He started to speak several times but had to stop to regain his composure.

"I tried to forget about them and my father's warnings. I pretended none of it was real, telling myself they were all mad, but then sweet Julet died." He sucked in an unsteady breath before he went on. "She was bitten by a glass viper, which are extremely venomous and usually only found in the desert. How it came to be in her bedding is still a mystery, but it cost me everything. All my hopes and dreams died with Julet, may her soul be free."

No words could adequately express Catrin's condolences, and she could think of nothing to say that wouldn't sound trite. Instead, she chose to put her hand on his and give it a gentle squeeze. She gave him a few moments to grieve. When he had composed himself, he continued.

"My father blamed me," he said haltingly. "He said I had affronted fate, and fate had treated me in kind. In a desperate attempt to convince fate to return my Julet, I tried to set things right. I knew it would never work, but that didn't stop me from trying. I could no longer stand the sight of my homeland. Everything reminded me of my failure, of how my actions had killed Julet," he said, smashing his fists against his thighs. "I left the Godfist in a small fishing boat, hoping to find Wendel and Benjin. It was a terrible journey, and it took me over a year to find them. When I did, I met your mother.

"It was a difficult time," he said, looking her in the eye for the first time since he had begun speaking. "I'm sorry to have to tell you this," he said, and he paused as if he were unsure he should continue.

"Your mother captured both Wendel's and Benjin's hearts. She seemed truly unaware of their feelings, and the tension grew. Wendel and Benjin became bitter toward each other and were both miserable. One day they told Elsa she would have to choose between them, but she cared for them both and refused. Eventually the tension was too great, and Benjin challenged Wendel. They argued at first, but it escalated, and they fought like madmen, nearly killing each other. Elsa and I pulled them apart, and we were both injured in the process. They fought us blindly and did not thank us for our interference.

"After the fight, Elsa tended Wendel's wounds. I'm not sure if it was the loss of his friend or Elsa's silent choice that drove him, but Benjin left without a word. Your father was saddened by his departure but did not go after him."

Catrin could feel her heart breaking as she listened, unable to bear the thought of her father and Benjin fighting. "Why are you telling me this?"

"I'm telling you because there are many in the Greatland who will remember your parents and the events surrounding their departure from the Greatland. You see, your mother was the daughter of a very wealthy noble, a prominent member of society." He paused a moment to look at Catrin. "And you are her mirror image."

Tears blurring her vision, Catrin could bear no more and fled the cabin.

Nat wasn't proud of himself, but he'd begun to do what was right. Still, he dreaded what would come next and doubted any words would make Catrin understand. With a deep sigh, he tried to sleep. It would not come. A haunting but familiar sensation grew steadily, and he braced himself. The taste of blood filled his mouth as his muscles clenched and the vision overwhelmed his senses.

The land shivered under the weight of an ill, green light. A foul demon with eyes of ice sundered the air, and the skies caught fire. In the demon's path, Catrin stood, abandoned and alone, her arms cast wide and power flowing around her. Roaring as it came, the demon engulfed her in its flames, and she disappeared into the conflagration.

Nat sucked a deep breath as the seizure released him, and he felt himself being ripped apart, torn among the visions, duty, and the wrath of men long dead.

Catrin avoided Nat for the next few days and kept herself busy practicing knots. Mastering all of them gave her great pride, and she sought out Bryn. He watched her demonstrate.

"Not bad," he said, "but on a ship, you have to be able to tie them without thinking or even watching what you are doing. Come back when you can do them all with your eyes closed."

Disappointment was overwhelmed by the need for success. Refusing to fail, Catrin squatted on the deck. Her eyes closed, she found her other senses heightened. Things that normally complemented her visual image were now her only source of awareness. When Nat walked across the deck, she knew him from the rhythmic click of his staff against the deck. The sound grew closer and stopped, and she was not surprised when he spoke.

"I'm sorry, Catrin. I didn't want to hurt you."

"Then why did you? You could have simply told me I looked like my mother and people might recognize me!" she said, realizing even as the words left her mouth that she was being unreasonable. Nat was not to blame for the pain his message stirred within her.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"No. I'm the one who owes you an apology. I reacted poorly and have been acting like a child. Please sit with me," she said, motioning to the spot next to her. Nat eased himself slowly to the deck, grunting as he settled himself.

"I'm gettin' old."

"I've been meaning to ask you something," Catrin said. "How did you manage to swim and hold on to your staff at the same time?" She remembered her own terrifying plunge into the sea.