Call of the Herald (12 page)

His awareness was flooded with a vision of
Catrin, hunted by the Zjhon, vulnerable and calling out for him.
Never before had Wendel ever been so conflicted, he felt as if his
spirit were being torn apart, ripped into pieces by a decision no
one should ever have to make. He felt Elsa looking down on him, and
he wept as he shamed her and shamed himself. His feet had taken him
to the barn, where he had already, subconsciously and
automatically, started saddling Charger. From beneath a pile of
hay, he pulled his portion of the supplies he and Benjin had
stashed away. From one of the bags protruded a painful reminder, a
physical representation of his guilt and weakness. Elsa's sword
reminded him of all the things he was not, of all his failings and
shortcomings. It challenged him to save his countrymen
and
find Catrin--Elsa would have saved them all.

Wendel found himself in the saddle, ready to
ride away from his farm, his friends--his entire life. Just as he
gave Charger his heels, he caught movement from the corner of his
vision. Turning his mount with his knees, he saw a mounted soldier
closing on a single-horse cart. Driving the cart was Elianna Grisk,
a woman of more than eighty summers. She was as sharp as a sword
and took no guff from anyone, but she was more than overmatched.
Her horse was little more than a pony, and he was weary with age;
he labored to pull her at little more than a walk, and the
soldier's horse showed only the beginnings of a sweat.

Wendel cried out in dismay. His mind had been
made up, his course set, but now he found himself swayed. Reaching
back, he grabbed Elsa's sword and released a battle cry that had
not been heard in many seasons. As he charged toward the
approaching soldier, he saw the look of relief on Elianna's face;
she believed he would save her. Life had given Wendel no other
choice; there was only one way he could ever live with himself: he
had to save them all.

* * *

In the darkness, all of Benjin's fears came
to life and stalked him from every direction, waiting for him to
let down his guard for even a moment. He was soft and slow with
age, and he was unprepared for what lay ahead. Too long had he
lived an easy life, forgetting the lessons his father and
grandfather had taught him. He had always thought there would be
time to prepare, time to train his children to face the coming
storm, but now the storm had come early, and his work was not even
begun.

Things most people thought of as legend were
now here as flesh and blood, wood and iron, pain and fire. The
Masters had always said it would only cause a panic if the truth
was known to all, and thus they kept their knowledge hidden. The
citizens of the Godfist would pay for the Masters' folly . . . and
his.

Chapter 6

Men are fickle creatures, capable of kindness
and compassion yet fascinated by the basest atrocities.

--Argus Kind, Zjhon executioner

* * *

When Catrin pulled herself from her bedroll,
all but Benjin still slept. Their shelter blocked much of the
morning light, and the air was still cool in the shadows. Benjin
stood at the southern opening of the crevasse, his silhouette
standing out in stark contrast to the bright landscape beyond.
Catrin padded silently to his side and put her arms around him. He
gave a start at her touch, and she knew he must have been in deep
thought since he was usually impossible to sneak up on.

"Sorry," she said.

"It's all right, li'l miss. You just startled
me."

"Not just that. I'm sorry about all of this.
I never meant to cause so much trouble. I'm not even sure what I
did, but now I've dragged all of you into my mess," she said, and
she leaned her head against his shoulder for comfort.

He patted her on the head and guided her into
the sunlight. "None of this is your doing, Catrin."

She looked up at him, surprised he would call
her by name. She was so accustomed to "li'l miss" that her name
sounded odd on his lips.

"We live in times of change, and all of us
will be affected whether we wish it or not," he continued.

"But it seems, everywhere I go, trouble
follows. It doesn't seem safe to be near me," she said, wanting to
tell Benjin about the destruction of the grove, but she could not
bring herself to speak of it.

"You can look at it that way if you wish, but
I suggest you concentrate on what you can do to make the situation
better. You cannot change what has already happened, but you can
prepare yourself for the future. I can't say what this day will
bring, but I vow to face it with my head high and my wits about me.
I suggest you do the same. You can wallow in self-pity if you like,
but it'll only bring you misery. There's a greatness in you that
you don't realize yet, Catrin, so you must not lose hope. We'll get
through this together and be stronger for it."

"I know you're right. I'm sorry."

"And no more 'sorrys' from you," he said,
shaking his finger at her. "I'll strike a bargain with you: If you
promise not to intentionally hurt me, and I promise not to
intentionally hurt you, then there will be no more need for another
'I'm sorry' between us. Do I have your word?"

"You have my word," she said with a small
smile.

"And I give mine," he replied with a flourish
and a bow. He smiled and touched her shoulder. "C'mon, let's go
make the best of things."

Catrin felt a great deal of comfort from
their talk. He'd forgiven whatever mistakes she might have made,
and now maybe she could forgive herself. She made a conscious
effort to tell herself she was forgiven and was surprised at how
much it eased her guilt and anxiety.

She acknowledged that most people never
intended to hurt her; her pain had been an unintentional by-product
of their actions. A great weight seemed to lift from her soul, and
she decided to focus on positive things. Taking a deep breath, she
released her anger in a long sigh. A renewed Catrin strode back
into the crevasse with confidence.

After they broke camp, Catrin helped the
others stow their bedrolls and check their packs. Benjin led them
by memory, and they often had to backtrack when the way was
blocked. Numerous game trails crossed the valley floor, and he
seemed to have trouble finding distinguishable landmarks. By noon,
it seemed they had covered very little distance.

Chase, Strom, and Osbourne talked quietly
among themselves. They were worried about their families and the
other people they had left behind. They speculated about the
invaders: who they might be and why they would attack.

Catrin listened in silence. She ached to know
her father was safe, and she tried to have faith. Her mental image
of him was one of strength and unbending integrity, and bringing
that image to mind soothed her. She could not picture a man of such
goodness and fortitude ever being in danger, and she clung to that
illusion.

"I heard said some of the ships bore a symbol
of a man and woman in an embrace. Sounds like the mark of a Zjhon
warship to me. As much as I hate to speculate, I fear invaders have
come from the Greatland," Benjin said.

"The Greatland!" Strom snorted. "I thought
that existed only in fairy tales and legends. There's been no
contact with other civilizations for thousands of years. Only the
old texts mention the Greatland and the Firstland, so what reason
do you have to believe they even exist?"

"I assure you the Greatland does indeed
exist, and the danger presented by the Zjhon empire is all too
real," Benjin stated flatly.

"You talk like you've been there," said
Strom.

"That's because I have been there, but that's
a story for another time. What's important now is that you know the
Zjhon empire has not forgotten about us. They believe the Herald of
Istra will be born on the Godfist and will be revealed through
great acts of power. The Zjhon prophecies say the Herald will
betray them and destroy their nation . . . or something like that.
It's hard to tell just what they mean.

"I believe they'll go to great lengths to
capture and kill anyone they believe could be the Herald. As much
as I hate to admit it, I think Nat Dersinger was right: they've
come to destroy us in a desperate attempt to save themselves. They
will not find the Godfist an easy place to conquer, though; the
Masters and a few select families have been making preparations for
decades."

"You knew they were coming?" Osbourne asked,
incredulous.

"In a sense we
knew,
but our
information was thousands of years old, and it was nearly
impossible to tell truth from fairy tale. Huge amounts of
information were lost during the great wars and the Purge, and no
one knew if the prophecies were anything more than legend, but we
did know the Zjhon believed them to be sacred and quite real. We
did our best to prepare for an invasion, and seeing their ships
over the years kept us vigilant, but we thought we'd have much more
time before it would happen. I guess our calculations were wrong,"
he said, stopping to untangle himself from a thorn bush.

"I don't understand," Chase interjected. "How
could you
calculate
when they would attack?"

"It's a long story and rather complicated,
but I'll try to explain. About twenty years ago, we heard the Zjhon
Church had started quoting certain scriptures again, the ones that
tell the Zjhon their duty is to fight in the name of Istra. The
scriptures also say Istra's return will be the divine signal to
embark on their holy war. We know they calculate the Vestran cycle
to be about 3,017 years, but by our reckoning, it has only been
2,983 years since Istra departed."

"I
still
don't understand," Chase
persisted. "I thought Istra was a goddess. What do you mean she has
returned to the skies? All I've seen in the sky is a comet."

"A long time ago, people made up stories to
explain things they couldn't understand. When a comet storm lasted
over a hundred years and seemed to grant otherworldly powers, they
glorified it and named it 'Istra, Goddess of the Night.' The comet
we saw was most likely the first of many to come.

"It's said that during the Istran Noon, some
seventy-five years into the storm, there can be as many as a
thousand comets visible in the sky on any night. Some of the old
tales refer to the first comet as the Herald of Istra, but others
say it will be a person born here on the Godfist. I'm not really
certain what I believe," Benjin added.

He called for a quick break, and while the
young people rested, he walked a short distance in each direction.
He was pushing his way into some heavy underbrush when he
exclaimed, "Aha! I knew we were going in the right direction." He
emerged from the underbrush with a gleam in his eyes.

"What did you find?" Catrin asked, and he
beamed at her.

"When your father and I came this way, we
left a few markings in case we ever wanted to find our way back.
Beneath the underbrush and a thick layer of moss, I just found one
of them. We carved it deep, and, luckily, it survived the passage
of time. Our destination is due east, about a day's walk from
here."

They were encouraged that they were on the
right path and glad they would not have to carry their packs much
farther. Benjin's excitement urged him to move on, this time
leading them on a much straighter path. "Try to leave the forest
undisturbed," he said. "Any sign we were here will help
trackers."

Now there were fewer times they had to double
back, and as they ascended a sloping hill, the forest became less
dense, allowing them to move with greater speed. Just before
nightfall, they crested a large rise. Tall trees provided cover,
and there were a few open spaces for camping. They made no fire,
for fear of being seen, but the mood was cheerier than it had been
the night before. The evening air was cool and not uncomfortable.
They snacked on their provisions and drank springwine, but Benjin
cautioned them not to overindulge.

"Your packs may seem heavy now, but soon you
may wish we could've carried more."

Chase and Strom both volunteered to take the
first watch to let Benjin get some rest. "Thanks, boys. I'll fare
better if I can get some sleep. Sentry duty is no pleasure, and it
requires concentration. Your first duty is to remain awake. Sleep
has claimed many sentries, and their groups have perished. I
suggest you try to achieve a restful but alert state. Quiet your
minds and concentrate on your breathing. The trick is to keep part
of your mind focused on sight, hearing, and smell. It takes
practice, but once you master it, you'll be able to achieve it at
will.

"Don't shout or make any loud noises if you
spot someone, as that might draw them to us. Wake the sleepers
quietly, and sleepers should try to remember to wake quietly. Our
sentry's stealth may go for naught if one of us wakes in a panic,"
he lectured. "I trust you will do your best to remain alert during
your watch, but I think it'd be best if you double up for now.
Chase and Catrin, take the first watch, Strom and Osbourne, the
second, and I'll take the third.

"Periodically report to each other during
your watch. Walk to where the other one is posted to check. Plan to
alternate which sentry goes to the other. Changes will help keep
you from getting sluggish."

The night was quiet, and Catrin dozed off
during her watch. She flushed with shame when Chase woke her from a
deep sleep, and she stood for the rest of her watch. When morning
came, Strom and Osbourne admitted they had also fallen asleep, and
they vowed to do better.

When they began their hike the next day,
Benjin told them to be watchful for game trails, likely watering
holes, and streams or ponds where the fishing might be good. "The
land we're crossing now should be within our hunting range. There's
a lot of game, but it's crafty because it's had to learn to avoid
wolves and mountain cats. Animals are large out here, and they can
be dangerous. Keep your wits about you."