The Balance of Power (Godsland Series: Books Four, Five, and Six) (52 page)

"But with you," Thundegar said, "with you, we have a chance. You and Rastas and I can accomplish more than Rastas and I alone." On his unspoken command, Allette added the ingredients she'd chopped to the pan, and Thundegar sliced the now much softer roots and sprinkled on some seasoning. Then he pulled the pan from the flames and placed it on the slate table. "Here," he said, handing her a pointed wood implement with a slight hook at the sharpened tip. He grabbed another like it and skewered a slice of root that was browned around the edges.

Allette looked for a piece that was cooked about as much, the pan was thick and cooled slowly, and the roots continued to cook even as they ate. Grinning like fools, they devoured the buttery roots, and Allette had to admit that they were well worth the effort, and perhaps even the risk of bloodshed.

With a full belly, Allette moved toward her sleeping spot on the stone floor.

"Sleep in the hammock," Thundegar said. "Rastas won't mind. He sleeps with you anyway, and you're going to need your rest."

"Why is that?" Allette asked with a yawn, wondering what task he would have for her, and looking forward to the challenge.

"Because tomorrow we leave for the Midlands."

Chapter 8

Like rain from a clear blue sky, power can come unexpected.

--Pelivor, flightmaster

* * *

The shining sun belied the struggles of the night before, making them seem as if they were but a dream. The Arghast gathered on the sandy southern shoreline of the Godfist gave evidence enough. Sinjin and the others were saddened by the loss of life, but they took great pride in the Wind clan members they had rescued. The
Dragon's Wing
had never borne such a load, but it was a mostly gratifying haul.

Halmsa of the Wind clan mourned the losses heavily, blaming himself; that much was clear from his posture and expression. The news of the death of Sinjin's parents weighed on the man even further. "You have a very good boat," Halmsa said to Fasha. "Thank you. Our boats were not as good."

An understatement, perhaps.

"Where were you going?" Benjin asked.

"To the land of our fathers," Halmsa said, "to the place of dragons."

Sinjin still couldn't believe it. Halmsa had dragon eggs. They were not as large as Sinjin would have guessed, and he couldn't count how many there were, but it was more than a handful. Dragon eggs. Feral dragon eggs? They had to be, Sinjin realized. The regent queen was dead.

"Where did you get those eggs?" Sinjin asked, and everyone turned to look at him. He'd been silent for much of the journey and had participated little in the discussions on what to do next. He'd been listening and thinking.

"They came to me in a vision," Halmsa said.

"You dreamed and when you awoke, you had dragon eggs?" Sinjin asked, incredulous.

"No," Halmsa said. "They came to me in a vision, on the top of a big rock, so when awake, I climbed the big rock and I waited. They tested my patience, and I nearly left, but she came to me in the night of my despair, all black and cold, and something else. She gave me the eggs, just as the vision promised. Now we must go to the place of dragons, but our boats are not good like yours."

"You got these eggs from a feral dragon?" Sinjin asked.

"Yes," Halmsa said.

Benjin and Fasha both took a step backward.

"No fear," Halmsa said. "These are not feral dragons. These are our children. If I do not fail them, they will rule the skies. It has been foretold. I must not fail our children."

Despite his words, Sinjin and others eyed the dragon eggs with a great deal more anxiety than they had initially.

"What did this dragon look like?" Sinjin asked.

"Big," Halmsa said, and he thought about it for a moment. "Biggest feral I ever saw. Old too. Looked like she'd been in a lot of fights. Wings were ragged and torn. And smart. Looked like she knew things I didn't--many things."

A strange feeling stirred in Sinjin's gut; suspicion, fear, and even a little hope followed. Still, he was far from certain; feral dragons often looked alike, and they were known for their fighting, even among themselves. Any number of feral dragons could fit Halmsa's description, and Sinjin realized that he was pulling hope from little solid proof, but still part of him thought it could be the feral queen that had crashed into the Inland Sea along with Kyrien and his mother. If the feral queen had survived, then there was the chance that Kyrien survived, and perhaps if Kyrien was alive, he would have found a way to save Sinjin's mother
 . . . perhaps. Either way, Halmsa seemed determined to take his people to the Firstland. At least Sinjin assumed it was the Firstland that the Arghast referred to; again, he lacked sufficient evidence to be certain. He'd always been taught to act only on known facts and not on hearsay and assumptions, but at the moment, he had little besides assumptions.

Since truth wasn't likely to present itself to him of its own volition, he would need to seek it out.

"Could you show them how to build and sail a proper ship?" he asked Benjin.

Benjin looked doubtful and cast a questioning gaze at Wendel.

"I could teach them, given time," Sinjin's grandfather said. "Are your people willing to work and learn?"

"The Dragon clan will do anything to get our children to the place of dragons."

"I thought you were the leader of the Wind clan," Sinjin said.

The assembled Arghast issued a low murmur, and it looked as if some of them were praying.

Then Halmsa spoke. "Do not speak of them, for they are gone. We are the Dragon clan."

Feeling foolish for asking, Sinjin flushed. "I'm sorry," he said.

"No sorry," Halmsa said. "The Dragon clan owes you everything. We will repay you; we will. I give my word as clan chief."

Sinjin's grandfather walked to his side. "This is more about your life than mine, m'boy. I'm an old man, and I've lived a full life. You've everything ahead of you. What is it that you want?"

"Peace," Sinjin said. A long silence followed, and finally Sinjin coughed and gave a different answer. "I'd love to go home, but I don't want to make things worse."

"Perhaps we should send a message to Trinda," Wendel said. "Do you have any concessions you want to request?"

It didn't take long for Sinjin to decide. "Only this," he said, "I want the people to know that I've come back, and anyone who wants to join me should be allowed to do so. If this concession is granted, then I'll not contest Trinda's right to Dragonhold. I'll take my people and go."

Perhaps all those boring lessons his parents had forced on him had done some good after all, he thought, though the bigger part of him wondered what in the world he was doing. He had nowhere to go, nothing to offer anyone except the opportunity to leave the safety of Dragonhold. Still, he knew Durin would come and Uncle Chase. That alone would make his world a better place, and he knew he could count on Uncle Chase to give him good advice. And to have his friend at his side would make everything else easier to bear.

"So it's settled," Benjin said. "Wendel, Jensen, Jessub, and I will disembark with the Arghast near the foothills, where we can get to good wood. Fasha will sail the rest of you to the harbor. Are you sure you don't want to stay with us, Sinjin? It may be safer."

"I don't think Trinda is going to try to kill me," Sinjin said. "And I want to be there when Durin and Uncle Chase come."

"I know they'll come if they're able," Benjin said, and Sinjin's grandfather nodded his head in agreement.

"Don't get yourself set on this working out a certain way," Wendel said. "Chase loves you, and Durin has been your faithful companion. If they don't come, know that there's a reason.

"Yes, sir," Sinjin said.

Tacking into a steady wind, the
Dragon's Wing
sailed along the coast of the Godfist. Benjin and Fasha were unwilling to risk the lives of so many with flight. Pelivor assured him that he and Gwen could fly the ship with the Arghast aboard, at least for a short distance, but Benjin still objected.

"I know how the Arghast are when it comes to flying," Benjin said. "I don't want any of them jumping overboard while we were in the air just to see if they can fly."

Fasha nodded in agreement.

"All this flying has ruined me; I must admit," Benjin said after a time. "Is it me, or does traditional sailing now seem dreadfully slow?"

Fasha gave him a hard look. "Flying the ship is cheating in almost every way. Sailing is still a superior mode of travel. Or perhaps you think you could swim faster?"

Bowing to his wife, Benjin accepted defeat.

* * *

Harborton was a strange mixture of destruction and construction. Blackened and charred buildings stood beside the new, bright and stark. This was what healing looked like, Sinjin admitted, and knowing that Trinda was behind it came as something of a shock. He'd heard that her rule was fair and just, yet he had wondered at her motives. Perhaps she was just lulling everyone until she was ready to reveal her true plans. For the moment, there was nothing for Sinjin to do but wait. He'd watched Pelivor go with a mixture of anxiety and jealousy. Still, it made sense to use him since almost no one on the Godfist knew him, and thus, he had no grudges against him, and he had power a plenty to take care of himself. Sinjin appreciated Pelivor's volunteering to go, but that didn't change the fact that he wished he could have gone himself.

He was home, yet he would not even get to see the place where he grew up, the place that meant everything to him, his mother, his family. His mother had brought life back to Dragonhold; Trinda was little more than an opportunist, and he was nothing more than a coward. A braver man would've gone himself.

Another thing that bothered Sinjin was the act that Trinda had put on during all the time she'd spent within Dragonhold. Always she had played the slow-witted dolt. Always she had used her child's form to make everyone think she was harmless. Now they knew the truth; she was anything but, and she had known all along, of that assumption Sinjin was almost certain. How could she not have known? And even if she hadn't, how could she plan her takeover of Dragonhold so quickly? The thoughts nagged at Sinjin, and he began to pace. He said nothing to those aboard, and people stepped out of his way when he passed, the look on his face making it clear that he didn't want to talk.

The problem of the Arghast came to the fore of his thoughts. He shook his head and mumbled something under his breath. Nothing seemed certain in his world, and he wondered if helping them get to the Firstland, if that was where they were truly destined, was the right thing to do. So much hinged on things his mother had started, things which were now left for him to finish. How a weak and ignorant soul like himself was supposed to carry on the work of the most powerful person in the world was beyond Sinjin's understanding. In that moment, he realized Trinda might have done him a tremendous favor. In her absence, would he have been called upon to lead? He was, after all, the next in the line of succession, if one were to view his as a noble bloodline, but it had never been that way here on the Godfist. Noble bloodlines were the way of the Greatland, and he doubted the people of the Godfist would see it that way. Perhaps having Trinda rule on the Godfist was for the best. From all appearances, she was doing a fine job of it. Seeing his people working together, rebuilding after what had seemed like complete destruction, lightened Sinjin's soul, and he almost smiled. Still, there was a great deal more to be done.

Part of him wanted to stay and help his people, to be an instrument of his nation's rebirth, but not at the cost of peace; always that thought kept him from acting. One friend or countryman dead was too high a price. But that gave him no real option except to leave. Accompanying the Arghast to the Firstland seemed the logical course, but the thought terrified Sinjin. The tales he'd heard of the Firstland involved horrible battles and monsters, and it didn't seem like the kind of place that anyone would go. If he had understood Halmsa correctly, it was the place of dragons that he sought, and that alone gave Sinjin pause. That was the place where the regent dragons had been defeated, where his mother had chosen to go instead of staying and defending Dragonhold. Sinjin still couldn't say exactly how he felt about that.

Not looking where he was going, since people had been moving out of his way almost automatically, it came as something of a shock when he slammed into an unmoving body. The surprise wore off quickly when he saw Kendra. She made no move to get out of his way, and there was no apology in her eyes.

"You look like a worried hen," she said.

"I'm just thinking," Sinjin said.

"Well, stop doing it with that pitiful look on your face. All your pacing is making everyone nervous, including me, so stop it."

"Maybe there's good reason to worry," Sinjin said. "Has it occurred to you that we've no place to go? The dragons may not be attacking now, but what about when they've nursed their wounds and decide to come back even stronger? What then?"

"Then we fight."

Those words defied response, and Sinjin went back to pacing.

"That's not much of an improvement," Kendra said. "Your mood is catching, you know. Now just about everyone aboard is on edge."

"I'm sure they have enough sense to be worried on their own," Sinjin said. "They don't need me to tell them their lives are in danger."

It seemed those words also defied response. Kendra huffed and left him standing there, her scowl chasing away just as many as Sinjin's pacing. Still, he made sure to look up more often so as not to run into anyone else. On one of those occasions, he saw Gwen watching him. She said nothing when he met her eyes; instead, all she did was cross her arms over her chest and raise one eyebrow. Sinjin wasn't certain what it meant, but he knew it wasn't good. Usually when Gwen crossed her arms like that, he was only a mistake or two away from getting decked.

* * *

When one of the largest carriages on the Godfist appeared on its way to the harbor, four horses pulling it, Sinjin knew Pelivor was returning, and surely he was not alone in a carriage that size. Behind the carriage came a wagon not much smaller, also pulled by a team of four. Sinjin knew that the luxurious ride had been only a part of the journey since much of the way to Dragonhold was not fit for horse or wagon. Still, it made a statement: these people were being treated well.