Brian Rathbone - The Dawning of Power

Jharmin made no move and said nothing; he just stood with his arms crossed over his chest and stared at the Zjhon commander. Catrin knew the danger was not yet averted. A battle between Jharmin's and Madra's armies would lead to horrific casualties, and she had not yet counted the Zjhon out of the equation. When she made up her mind, she could only hope that her actions would not lead to a bloodbath.

To forget the past is to jeopardize the future. -Meriaca Jocephus, historian

"Samda!" Catrin shouted, and everyone turned toward Madra's army, which now looked like a real army. "Approach!"

Samda came swiftly, but his measured stride spoke of confidence. "Lady Catrin," he said when he arrived.

"Traitor," the Zjhon commander spit. Jharmin stared at Samda with distrust.

"I am a traitor to a failed faith. We were wrong, Grevan. Archmaster Belegra is wrong."

"Bah! Lies," Grevan said.

"She has coerced him. He can't be trusted," Jharmin added.

"Mind yourself," Samda said. "Do not forget who presided over your right-to-inherit confirmation." Jharmin flushed and looked at the ground. "And you, Grevan. Who was it that granted you the crest and mark?"

"You'll not intimidate me," Grevan said. "You may have granted me the crest and mark, but it was by Archmaster Belegra's authority. I could execute you now for treason. The Herald Witch will come with me."

"Yes. Yes," Samda said. "You have your orders, Mark Grevan. You can execute me now and take the Herald Witch into custody. What is there to hinder you?" Samda asked with a feral smile. "I can still smell the burning flesh of the last men who attacked her."

"If you feel it is right to follow Archmaster Belegra," Madra said, "then I suggest you follow him into whatever hole he's chosen to hide in."

A tense silence hung in the air. Mark Grevan made no move. "What of you, Jharmin? Where do you stand?"

Jharmin took a moment to consider before he replied. Looking each of the assembled in the eye, he seemed to struggle. "I stand with the people of Lankland," he finally said, "and I believe they have just spoken. You are to remove yourself from my lands and never return."

Mark Grevan said no more. Turning on his heel, he strode away. When he reached what remained of his army, he gave no orders. Instead he mounted, wheeled his horse, and rode back the way he had come. A handful of men followed him, but more chose to go their own way, and they scattered, some alone, some in small bands.

"There will be more," Samda said. "That was but a fraction of the Zjhon's number."

"Thank you, Samda," Catrin said, and Samda bowed before returning to Madra's army. "So, Jharmin, what will it be? Shall we rip each other to ribbons? Or will we rise above this cursed feud?"

It took a moment for Jharmin to respond. The mantle of flames that only Catrin's eyes seemed to be able to perceive dwindled as he seemed to find his calm. When he spoke, his voice conveyed more sadness than anger. "I agree the feud between our families has brought no good to our peoples or us. I declare no peace with you, though, for I've no authority to do so. I will, however, grant you passage across my lands."

"I'll no longer be traveling with Madra and her army, will you grant them passage as well?"

"Madra and her army represent the people of Lankland. I'll not stand in the way of their revenge on the Zjhon. My men will escort them wherever it is they wish to go, and I will escort you personally from my lands."

"Are we in agreement?" Catrin asked, looking at Madra.

"We are," she said.

"We are," Jharmin added.

"Then let it be so," Catrin said. "I must make the arrangements for my party's departure. Lord Kyte, if you would excuse me."

"I'll await you on the hill," he said as he turned to walk away. Catrin and Madra walked back to the waiting army.

"I can now provide horses for you and your companions, so you can ride to Ravenhold," Madra said. "I have my children back, but there are many more sons and daughters out there. This army will go on until all those that live have been returned to their families."

"I wish you blessings and the speed of the gods on your quest, Madra, and I thank you for your generosity. You are a great hero."

When Madra laughed, the humor reached her eyes. She smiled and shook her head. "Look at us. Two great heroes, neither willing to admit it."

"I insist we stop in the very next town and procure a carriage or a wagon," Millie said. "I'm not built for horseback." Her complaining had started the instant she was told she would ride, and since then it had only grown worse.

Morif rode alongside Catrin and kept his voice low. "If you make her ride all the way to Ravenhold, she'll waddle like a duck for the next moon." Millie shot him a narrow-eyed glance, and he pulled back, chuckling.

"As soon as we can, Millie. As soon as we can," Catrin said, trying not to smile. In truth, much of the terrain they had to cover was not fit for a carriage and would make for a rough wagon ride, but Catrin hoped, for Millie's sake, that they could soon travel by road.

Jharmin and his squad of guards rode at a distance, camping within sight but out of earshot. When they came to a large town, Jharmin rode out to meet Catrin. "On the other side of Mickenton, we can pick up the trade road. I will get us passage down the main thoroughfare, and I don't want anyone wandering off."

"There're things we need from the market," Catrin said.

Jharmin frowned. "What do you need?"

"A carriage and harness."

"I'll have one of my men purchase it for you and deliver it tonight. You may camp here," he said and rode away.

"You'll have your carriage this night," Catrin said to Millie when she returned. "We'll make camp here, and tomorrow we'll be escorted through Mickenton. From there, we travel by road." Her statement brought about many smiles and sighs of relief, not to mention a chuckle from Morif. Millie turned her nose up and walked away.

Jharmin was true to his word, and two of his guards arrived, one with a fine carriage, the other on horseback, carrying an extra saddle. After unhooking his mount, the guard cleaned everything meticulously, and he presented the harness and carriage to Catrin. "Lord Jharmin sends this as a gift."

"Please tell Lord Jharmin that his gift is appreciated," Catrin said. "But I can pay for the carriage."

"I assure you there is no need, m'lady. Lord Jharmin was quite clear on this."

"Thank you, sir."

The guard nodded a stiff bow then returned to his companion, who was tightening saddle straps. As they rode away, Catrin pondered the meaning of Jharmin's gift. She supposed it would be worth it to him if it helped to speed their journey off his lands.

Beyond Mickenton, travel became easier. The trade road was wide and level, and there were many inns along the way. Somehow, Jharmin got word ahead of them, and each night they would come to an empty inn, waiting for them alone. Again, Catrin wondered if this generosity was more insult than gift. If he wanted to keep her company isolated from his people, so be it.

"The day I leave the Greatland will be a joyous day," she said to Benjin one afternoon.

"I understand," he said. "I had hoped never to return, and I'll be happy to leave it behind as well. Under other circumstances, I would say there is great beauty here, but when I look around, I see only conflict and misery, and I tire of it."

By the time they reached the border of Mundleboro, the tension was unbearable. When a rider wearing the Kyte family sigil, the head of a bull, came at speed, everyone in both camps waited expectantly. The foamy sweat around the girth of his saddle spoke of a hard ride, and Catrin feared bad news. She watched, holding her breath, as he dismounted and reported to Jharmin. The change in Jharmin's posture was enough to confirm Catrin's fears; his shoulders slumped, and his head dropped forward. Even from a distance, Catrin could feel his pain.