Brian Rathbone - Inherited Danger

Catrin welcomed the pain; she embraced it. Cramps, burning agony, and sharp pangs were all wonderful and delicious. She felt them acutely and relished them. As her breathing grew to a steady rhythm, her senses returned, her eyes focused, and she was stunned to see Benjin, his head completely shaved. He knelt before her with tears in his eyes. He must have sensed her return to cognizance because he rushed forward to hug her.

"Thank the gods you've come back," he whispered, and Catrin returned his hug with her unwieldy arms. She tried to speak, but her throat was so parched that she feared it would crack apart. Mother Gwendolin appeared with a mug of water. She looked horrible, as if she were afflicted with some ghastly illness. Her eyes were sunken; her skin was nearly as ashen as Catrin's, but a weary smile crossed her face. She handed Catrin the mug and waited for her to drink.

Catrin's hands shook as she tipped the mug, and sweet water dribbled over her lips. There was only a small amount in the mug, but it was like a cup of pure life, and it rejuvenated her as it moistened her dehydrated throat. She handed the drained mug to Mother Gwendolin and wordlessly begged for more. Another mug was handed to her, and it contained little more than the first, but Catrin was glad to have it.

"You must rest now," Mother Gwendolin said, but her voice cracked and sounded raw.

Catrin realized for the first time that she was wrapped in warm blankets. Benjin scooped her up, blankets and all, as if she were little more than a fallen leaf. Mother Gwendolin guided him to a sleeping room, and he gently laid her down on the bedding. Once he was certain she was comfortable, he retrieved another mug of water from Mother Gwendolin, into which he stirred a pinch of brown powder.

"Drink this. It'll help you rest."

"Not yet. I have dire news," Catrin croaked as she sat up, but Benjin forced her back down with only a slight push of his finger. He placed the mug in her hands and crossed his arms over his chest. "Whatever it is, it can wait until morning."

Too weak to argue, Catrin drained the mug for the sake of her thirst as much as anything else. Within moments, she fell into a deep sleep, haunted by visions of a glowing face.

"You gave us quite a scare, young lady," Mother Gwendolin croaked, wagging her finger at Catrin in a good-natured way. "Please, tell me of your experience. The unknown is driving me to distraction."

"How long was I gone?" Catrin asked, her own voice still rough and grating.

"Fourteen days."

Fourteen days! Catrin was stunned. Her journey had felt like little more than an afternoon jaunt, but then she recalled the cycles of light and dark during Prios's attack, and she surmised that he had somehow affected her perception of time. She didn't hate him for it, convinced he had been coerced, but she also realized she was lucky to have survived. After weeks of fasting, her body had been in no condition to sustain her.

"We had to train every monk available to keep up the ritual chanting, and there's not a clear voice left in the hold. Benjin insisted upon being at your side, and he underwent a condensed version of the purification ritual. He never slept; he just sat with you and held your hand. We were worried beyond reason, and I fear he blames me for endangering you. He sleeps now, though he'll be wroth with me when he wakes. I slipped a bit of sedative into his tea."

Guilt stabbed at Catrin, and she resolved herself to set Benjin straight about a few things when she saw him next, but she was so weary. Her journey had taken its toll, and she wasn't certain she would ever be whole again; she felt disconnected and isolated. She seemed more of a spectator than a participant in life, tucked away in her bed, and she yearned to move about, but her body resisted her attempts.

"The journey was dangerous," Catrin said after a moment's consideration. "But it was made disastrous by means of outside interference. Someone was coerced into interfering with my journey. I know it; I could feel it. You did not place me in danger. My enemies did that. Regardless, I bear momentous news. One of the Statues of Terhilian has been found and is being excavated."

Her words seemed to ring Mother Gwendolin's reality like a bell. She sat in stunned silence, unable to formulate a response.

"I followed a trail of pilgrims to their destination, and there I found the bones of the great beast, but it was the exposed face of Istra, on the opposite side of the mountain, that drew the throng. I looked upon her, and she shone back at me. I cannot say for certain what others saw, only my perception of it."

Tears slid down Mother Gwendolin's tired face, and her breath shuddered when she made to speak. "This is the worst possible news, and it comes on the heels of other ill tidings. General Dempsy has returned from the Godfist with only three of his ships. He's spreading a wild tale of destruction that lays total blame at your feet. He claims you destroyed his armies in cold blood, single-handedly, leaving a trail of gore wherever you trod. He has joined with the forces gathering to assault Ohmahold, and we have word they are constructing monstrous siege engines."

General Dempsy was the man who led the siege on the Godfist. Now she had a name, which granted her power, and Catrin stored the information away.

"The Greatland is on the verge of widespread famine and starvation," Mother Gwendolin continued. "Drought and the lack of capable hands threaten to leave thousands without food. The armies have conscripted the majority of able-bodied persons along with the majority of the livestock, and the seeds of war are all that have been sown. Our civilization is on a path to destruction, and events are moving faster than anyone could have foreseen. And now a Statue of Terhilian enters the fray. It is hard to believe, but I do believe you. If you say you have seen the face of Istra, I believe you. I just have no idea what to do about it."

Catrin could empathize. The news was all very overwhelming, and she could find no suitable course of action to take. Depression settled on her, and she shook herself physically to dislodge it. "I need to get out of this bed."

"I suppose we could walk a bit if you are feeling well enough, but we should not go too far."

Sudden flashes of memory returned, images of tomes and artifacts obfuscated by a thick layer of dust. Catrin recalled her frantic return and the wondrous sight that had caught her attention. "I don't mean to pry, but are you aware of a large hall, within Ohmahold, that is filled with books, swords, and a variety of oddities covered in dust?" she asked.

"I'm not aware of any such hall. How did you come to know of it? There is no place in this hold that is allowed to accumulate so much dust."

"When I was returning from the south, the strange presence confused me and I was lost. I came back into Ohmahold through the stone, and during my journey, I passed through the hall. I think I could find it."

Curiosity seemed to overcome Mother Gwendolin's reluctance to tax Catrin's strength, but not without due consideration. "Are you certain you feel strong enough? Is it far?"

"I want to try. I'm not certain how far it is, but I'll let you know if I get too tired." In truth, she was already weary, but her own curiosity drove her onward. She could sleep when she knew what the mysterious room actually contained. Perhaps some lost volume held the answers to her questions. She let her instincts and her memories guide her to the area she had passed through. The trail led them to the maze that secured the entrance of the Inner Sanctuary. "It's in there."