Brian Rathbone - The Dawning of Power

Riders passed so quickly and in so many directions, Catrin could not keep track of where all the attackers were. Three men rode in close and occupied Benjin, Chase, and Brother Vaughn. Catrin winced at every blow they took. Unwilling to sit idly by while her companions fought, she opened herself to the power. Like drawing a deep breath before diving into the water, she inhaled the energy and held it within herself until she felt she might explode. The sound of hoofbeats from behind said she would have her chance to fight.

Turning just as the soldier closed the gap, Catrin held her staff high and prepared to unleash her stored energy. He pulled his sword back for a mighty swing, and time seemed to slow as it arced back toward her, slicing the air and singing the song of death. Before it reached her, though, Samda shouted her name, and time seemed to accelerate. Catrin opened her mouth to shout, but she had not even formed the words when Samda jumped between her and the blade.

He crumpled to the ground soundlessly, the soldier's sword protruding from his chest, and Catrin was so shocked that she failed to deliver her own attack. Deprived of his sword, the soldier punched Catrin in the face as he rode by and unhorsed her. She tried to brace herself but still hit the ground hard. Her horse pranced around her, and she had to roll to keep from being trampled.

Chase pulled her from the ground. "We're in trouble," he said, but then he had to defend himself as the attack raged on.

In a desperate attempt to protect her party, Catrin drew, once again, on the energy around her but could not focus, and the energy refused to do her bidding. After a desperate effort, the floodgates opened, and the river of power washed over her, unchecked. Sucking in deep breaths, she struggled to keep her footing lest she be swept away.

Three riders wheeled in unison and weaved through the trees as they charged. One flew from his saddle when Strom released the branch he'd been holding back; it struck the soldier across his nose with a crunch. Osbourne released the branch he'd been holding but to little effect; the leaves just raked against his target's face.

When Brother Vaughn ran with astonishing speed toward the momentarily stunned soldier's charging mount, Catrin shouted, but he did not hear. The thought of seeing him run down tore at her heart, but to her surprise, he sprang at the horse's head and latched onto the bridle. Using his weight, he brought the animal's head down until he touched the ground; then he rolled clear. The horse, carried by its momentum, flipped forward and sent its rider crashing into a nearby tree. The horse pulled itself from the ground and disappeared into the trees.

The last soldier continued forward, and Benjin rode to meet him. Overwhelmed with power, Catrin tried desperately to find a way to release it. The song of the dryads grew stronger in her mind, and she could feel their presence as they bolstered and guided her. With a terrified shriek, she cast out her energy, trying to connect it with the soldier. Just as his sword arced toward Benjin, a visible tendril of energy reached out to him. With a blinding light and a sharp crack, her energy connected with him and flowed violently between them.

The soldier was thrown from his horse and landed, smoking, on the ground. Benjin moved in to finish him off. Catrin, though, felt as if she had been the one struck, and she crumpled to the ground. Chase arrived at her side. "Are you hurt?" he asked.

"No. I don't think so. Samda?"

"I'm sorry, Cat. He's gone."

Lowering her head to cry, Catrin vented her impotent rage and sorrow. Nothing she could do would bring him back, but that didn't lessen her anguish, guilt, or her poignant sense of loss, which had become all too familiar. Only the need to tend to the wounded kept depression from claiming her.

Benjin had several deep wounds, and Catrin helped Brother Vaughn close and bandage them as best he could. Chase walked with a limp, and Osbourne's face was covered in drying blood, but at least the bleeding had stopped. Using a damp cloth, Catrin wiped the blood from his eyes.

"I tried to save him, Cat. I tried so hard. I'm sorry I failed."

"You did the best you could do, and you helped save all of us that live. Samda gave his life for me, and there was nothing any of us could've done to stop him," she said.

"He kept his word," Brother Vaughn said as he pulled a blanket over Samda. "It may not make up for everything he did, but Samda died an honorable death. People can indeed change. I underestimated him."

Still wary, they gathered the Zjhon horses still in the area, giving each of them their own mount. Making better time, they rode in somber silence. Samda's body, tied to the saddle of a Zjhon horse, was a painful reminder of the dangers they faced and the losses they had suffered.

When they reached a field dotted with small mounds that were laid out in an orderly fashion, Brother Vaughn stopped, motioned for everyone else to remain where they were, and walked into the field. For a few moments, he stood silent, but then he turned back to them, "Here lie my ancestors. Samda has earned the right to lie with them."

Though he had once been an enemy, he had also been a friend and protector. With hearts encumbered by grief, sadness, and regret, they laid Samda to rest. Before they left the burial mounds behind, Catrin found an acorn and planted it near where Samda lay, so that, from his death, new life could spring.

Mirta bent over little Becka, wiping the sweat from her forehead. Becka breathed shallow, ragged breaths, and Mirta could do nothing to help her. Becka was among the first, but it would spread, and Mirta began to cry, certain what she saw was the beginning of a plague.

As she wiped her tears, the bell rang, and she moved to the front of her shop, most of which was serving as a temporary sick house. When she saw two young boys, her heart sank. Would they, too, succumb?

"Miss Mirta?" one boy said meekly. "We have something for you, but it's kind of big. Where d'ya want it?"

"I don't have time for tricks today, boys," Mirta said. "I'm not expecting anything, and I don't have any room. If you're not sick, then run along."

"But, Miss Mirta, won't you at least look? The man said you'd want it. I can't remember what he called it. Fire lily? No, that wasn't it."

"Pyre-orchid?" Mirta asked, astonished, but her feet were already taking her through the door. There, on a simple wood cart, sat enough pyre-orchids to treat half the Greatland, but they were starting to rot. "Thank the gods! You must help me get this inside right now. You're Orman's boys, aren't ya?"

"Yes, ma'am. I'm Wilmer and this is my brother, Jidan."

"Good," Mirta said. "Your father won't mind me borrowing you for the day. Once we have them unloaded, I'll send one of you back with a message for him."

"Yes, ma'am," Wilmer said.

"There isn't much left," Brother Vaughn said as they rode into a secluded valley clogged with underbrush. Here and there, though, evidence of what had once been a glorious home could still be found. Fluted columns and crumbling walls struggled for existence as the land reclaimed them. "Be watchful. There are unmarked wells and other dangers beneath the growth."

Beyond the valley waited the sea, and the waves called to Catrin like an old friend. Her time aboard the Slippery Eel had been an experience she would never forget, and though she would never have called herself a sailor, a part of her was at home on the seas.

"A ship should meet us here soon," Brother Vaughn said. "Until then, we wait." When they reached an area relatively free of underbrush, he led them to a rough archway at the base of the mountains. Beyond the archway was a natural chamber large enough to hold them and their mounts. "This cavern was once used for storage, but it should serve us well. There is a river nearby where we can fish."