Brian Rathbone - Call of the Herald

"Before I leave, there is a most unpleasant task I am obligated to perform," he said and took an object from within his robe unlike anything Catrin had ever seen before. An ivory tube, it was about as long as her forearm and decorated with fanciful carvings that were enhanced with gold and gemstones. The ends were topped with gold caps in the shape of a man and woman embracing-the symbol of the Zjhon empire. Catrin reached out slowly, unsure she wanted to accept it.

"This is the other reason I think we've been betrayed. This contains a message and was delivered to Miss Mariss through the channels of the Vestrana. Somehow the Zjhon have infiltrated the Vestrana, and we have no idea whom to trust. I'll leave you so you can read the message, but we must speak again soon. There are many things we should discuss," he said as he walked away.

Catrin felt a new burden on her shoulders. She feared what was written inside, afraid the words might find some way to hurt her and those around her. She walked to where Benjin stood. He looked refreshed after his bath and was pulling his hair into a braid as she approached.

"A storm is coming," he said, rubbing his shoulder, but when he saw the look on Catrin's face, he waited for the bad news. She handed him the tube and told him how it had been delivered. Benjin was stunned and hesitated to take it-perhaps for the same reasons Catrin was loath to hold it, both fearing what it might contain.

"Please, read it for me. I don't have the courage."

"Perhaps that would be wise. They could have rigged it with a trap," Benjin said. He carefully removed the golden cap. It fell away, and nothing leaped from the tube. He pulled the rolled parchment from the tube, placed it on the ground, and examined it closely before picking it up. He unrolled it and read aloud.

Salutations to the Herald of Istra from His Eminence, Archmaster Emsin Kelsig Belegra, spiritual leader and chief evangelist of the Holy Church of Zjhon.

The Zjhon nation has extended its warmest greetings, and you have evaded my emissaries and ignored our requests for talks of peace. You must not care that lives will be lost.

I do not know why you wish ill toward the Zjhon nation, but we only seek your salvation. Our request for talks of peace still stands, despite your refusals. If you present yourself to any of my emissaries, they will bring you directly to me, unharmed. Your companions are also welcome.

If you persist in your attempted flight from the Godfist, we will interpret it as a hostile action against the Zjhon nation. For your own sake, do not seek to flee or to invade the Greatland. My emissaries will remain on the Godfist until you have presented yourself to me personally. This matter must be settled between you and me. It would be a pity if your countrymen and mine suffered needlessly as a result of your selfishness. I beg you to put away your ego and do what you know is right.

I trust you will choose your path wisely.

Most gracious regards,

Archmaster Belegra, humble servant of the Gods

"I don't know which part is the most offensive," Catrin began. "I've never heard so many thinly veiled threats and insults. Why would they wish to provoke me in such a way? What does he mean, I have refused their offers for talks of peace? No one has made any such offer. He makes it sound as if their invasion is my fault!"

"Please stay calm, li'l miss. They wrote those things to provoke you, hoping you would do something hasty and foolish. It's a common tactic in warfare: taunt your opponent and instill doubt and fear in him whenever possible. There's not much in that letter we didn't already know. Try not to fret over it."

But she could not put the message out of her mind. "I'm going to take some time to meditate. Perhaps I'll find some inspiration," she said as she went into her tent. Her own clothes were by her bed, cleaned and folded. The solitude of the tent and the feeling of changing back into her old clothes comforted her, as if they helped her hold onto that which was Catrin. Her thoughts were scattered, and she tried to focus and meditate on each one. She pondered the archmaster's words and Benjin's reaction to them, but she thought there had to be some undercurrent she was not seeing. She found no answers.

The sound of many people shouting yanked her from her thoughts. Shadows ran past her tent, and the commotion continued to grow louder. Benjin reached her as she was emerging from her tent.

"What's going on?" she yelled above the noise.

"I don't know. When I heard all the commotion, I came here to make sure you were safe. Let's find Vertook." They scanned the sea of confusion for Vertook, but it was difficult to identify anyone in the morass, and it took a while to locate him. Benjin spotted him wading through the mob and heading for Catrin. He shouted and waved his arms, but they could not hear his words, and they waited anxiously for him to get clear of the throng. He rushed toward them, and the chaos he left behind seemed to take on a purpose as horses were saddled. That meant the Arghast were preparing to ride, and Catrin's anxiety was intense when she heard Vertook's words.

"Many soldiers coming from all around us."

"You ride with me," Vertook said, giving Catrin no choice but to follow him to his horse. They would all ride on horses with the other men, whose saddles contained a second set of passenger flaps that held soft leather stirrups. The flaps provided little cushion, but they had a large ridge around the back that would help keep them in place when they were riding at speed.

Before Catrin could get her boots into the stirrups firmly, Vertook issued a battle cry and the horse leaped into a full gallop. Catrin grabbed at the leather straps that hung from the sides of the saddle and held on with white knuckles, struggling to get her boots in the stirrups. Once her boots were firmly planted, she settled into the rhythm of the horse's powerful stride. Vertook's eyes showed his pleasure that the Herald had such fine riding skills.

The riders sent clouds of dust into the wind, and Catrin squinted to keep sand from her eyes. Vertook reached into his saddlebag and produced a headgear for Catrin-this time one with eye slits. She felt a little unsteady as they rode, but it was much better than sand in her eyes.

Cheslo and the others rode in tight formation with Vertook, and Catrin saw her companions donning headgears as well. Like a flash flood, they rolled toward the valley entrance in a headlong rush, lest they become trapped.

The mouth of the valley was narrow, and the horsemen funneled together, close enough for Catrin to touch the rider beside her, and as they passed through the narrow opening, they smashed together, nearly unhorsing her.

Clear of the valley, tribesmen surrounded their leaders in a tight, diamond-shaped formation. Vertook directed them straight toward the line of Zjhon soldiers approaching from the north. The wind whipped, and visibility dropped to near zero. The Zjhon were obscured by a veil of dust and were barely visible along the horizon. Despite greater numbers, the Zjhon attack seemed ill advised; they were still distant and spread thin, but Catrin supposed their hands had been forced when the Arghast intercepted their prey. Had the Arghast been less vigilant, she would have been trapped.

She turned her head to see who was behind her, but she could see little through the headgear and the dust that roiled up behind them. As she gazed higher, she could still see the top of the towering fountain, and she was amazed to see a pair of eagles floating on the thermals in the mist surrounding it. They swooped and dived through the water, and Catrin felt a moment of vindication and joy.