Chapter 12

If you wish to find yourself, you must first admit you are lost.

--anonymous philosopher

* * *

Catrin left the crumbling plateau behind, her body throbbing with energy, her senses heightened. As the breeze caressed her skin, the hairs on her arms and neck stood up. The roar of the mudslide pounded against her overly sensitive hearing, and she retreated from the din. Followed by Benjin and the others, she headed toward the northern end of the valley. There the mountains turned east and the valley grew wider. With little dry ground, they had to slog through a foul morass. Clinging mud made loud sucking noises as it hung on to their boots, weighing them down.

As the valley widened farther on, small sections of dry land appeared more often, like giant turtles in a sea of murky water. The valley floor was made up of rolling hills, and when they found dry spots at the tops of hills, it was only before they descended into valleys of muck. Puddles harbored fish stranded by the rapidly receding water.

Catrin wanted to take the fish back to the river, but she knew it would require too much time to do it right. She and Benjin had spent hours once catching fish in buckets after they were stranded by the Pinook River, which had overflowed its banks. Because the fish would die if they were quickly moved from warm water and put into frigid river water, they put the buckets into the river at the shallows until the water temperature gradually dropped. Then they tipped the buckets over so the fish could swim out. She had enjoyed seeing the fish disappear into the river, safe, and wished she could save these fish too, but there was no time.

The mountains threw long shadows as the waning sun set fire to the skies; bold strokes of crimson and ocher made for a breathtaking display. Patches of dry land gradually became larger, and some were almost suitable campsites. "I think that hill up ahead looks like a good place to camp," Catrin announced.

"There's not much cover there. I think we should try to find a better hiding place," Benjin advised.

"No," she said quietly, determined to embrace her new role, despite her insecurities. "I'm not going to hide anymore. I have to show the Zjhon I don't fear them. Instead, I will strike fear into them. Let them find us in the open, sitting by our fire, and let them see we are not hiding. Let us invite them to take us if they will. They will feel my wrath if they do."

No one but Benjin seemed to know what to make of the change in Catrin. He had accepted her as the Herald and let her be in complete control of their destinies. The others had known Catrin most of her life--and theirs--and seemed to have a difficult time accepting her now as the figure of legend from the prophecies. But they had seen too much of her power to deny it, and slowly they came to believe.

"As you wish," Benjin said with a short bow. He walked ahead to look for dry wood; Chase matched his stride. Strom and Osbourne remained alongside Catrin as she headed toward the campsite.

"Is there anything you need us to do, Miss Catrin?" Osbourne asked, looking uncertain.

Catrin sighed. "Please don't call me 'Miss Catrin' . . . not you or Strom or Chase. You're my friends, and I need you. I'm sorry I bossed everyone around and was so mean," she said, sounding much more like herself.

"Oh, that's all right, Miss Catrin," Strom said with an impish grin. "We know you have the whole 'Herald of Istra' thing to contend with. We could probably forgive you for being weird."

"I want you to dig," Osbourne said in a high-pitched voice, "from here"--he posed and pointed--"to here," he finished with a flourish.

"You best be careful, Osbo. You don't want risk the wrath of Miss Catrin. Fear the wrath, boy. Fear the wrath," Strom said as he ducked away from Catrin's playful jab.

While she was relieved to know she had not lost her friends, Benjin's behavior concerned her. His sudden change in personality was as bizarre as her own, and she needed to talk to him soon, but she feared she would insult him. She had looked up to him for so many years, and he had always been the first one to help her with her unusual ideas. She would never hurt him on purpose, but she did need to understand some things about him.

When they reached the top of the hill, Chase and Benjin were setting up a fire circle beside a small supply of firewood already stacked to one side.

"You're absolutely certain about the campsite and the fire, Catrin?" Benjin asked.

His use of her name annoyed her for reasons unknown, and she suppressed her irritation. "Yes, this will be fine. Strom, Osbourne, you asked if there was anything you could do, and now there is. Would you gather fish from the puddles please?"

Strom and Osbourne both nodded, and they left seeking fish.

Catrin turned to Chase. "Can we talk for a moment, please? I really need to know your opinion on something."

Chase raised an eyebrow and nodded before following her. A nearby tree grew around a large bolder, cradling it in its massive trunk, like a great claw clutching a mystical orb. Catrin climbed atop the bolder and sat cross-legged.

"Do you believe I'm truly the Herald of Istra?" she asked. Chase had always been her closest confidant, and they trusted one another. Before their tragic deaths, their mothers had been quite close, and Chase and Catrin had spent most of their childhoods together. Chase had the same pain she had, and she knew he would be honest with her.

"I think . . ." He paused a moment, thoughtful. "I think I do, Cat. I mean, all the signs are there, and you have shown your power." He pondered for a moment then returned the question. "Do you believe you are truly the Herald of Istra?"

"Yes, I do," she replied. "I didn't want to believe at first. I tried to tell myself it was all coincidence, but things just kept happening, no matter what I believed."

"What is the Herald supposed to do?"

"I have no idea," she admitted. "I wish I did know; it would certainly make things easier. I guess I'm supposed to destroy the Zjhon, but I'll be boiled if I know how or why."

They sat quietly for a while. Strom and Osbourne returned with an abundance of fish, and Catrin watched them while her thoughts drifted.

"What did you do on the plateau today? I mean, how did you hit the ground so hard? I've never seen anything like that."

"It's hard to explain," she began. "It's like trying to describe an eagle's call to someone born deaf or a sunset to someone born blind. I guess in this sense, I was born blind, but something opened my eyes. I'm still uncertain about a great many things, but I'll give you my best guess. I think the comet flooded our world with energy, and somehow I can gather that energy, focus it, and release it. I'm not exactly sure how I do it; that's just how it feels when it happens."

"I think I understand. What opened your eyes?"

"It could have been a number of things, I suppose, but I think it was Peten's staff." She paused. "Something inside me snapped. I can't tell you exactly what happened, but I'll tell you what I remember. When I saw my reflection in the wood of his staff, I knew I saw my own death approaching. I think my conscious mind accepted my fate and waited for the killing blow. Perhaps it was my unconscious mind that reacted instinctively." She realized how strange her words sounded, but they were the closest thing she had to an explanation.

"Well, Cat, this is how I see things: You're the Herald and you have great power, but you don't know how to control it. Your instincts seem to tell you things the rest of us cannot hear. I don't think you're any different from the rest of us, except that you've had some experiences that expanded your mind. The prophecies say you'll destroy the Zjhon nation, so I guess we should concentrate on doing that first."

Catrin saw thousands of complexities, and Chase had reduced them to a few simple statements. She shook her head and laughed. "I'll get right on that nation-destroying thing."

The pain in her left thigh got her attention as she got down from the boulder. Most of her body was sore, but her thigh felt different; it felt as if she had a small spot of sunburn. Then she recalled having pain in her thigh while she was engulfed in power. She reached for the tiny carved fish still in her pocket, precisely over where she felt the sting.

The carving looked worse than she remembered, now dull and chalky. It retained its shape, and even in its current state, it was oddly beautiful, and she was surprised it hadn't been broken or crushed during her misadventures. She guessed it must have bruised her leg during the climb, and when she could find no other reasonable explanation, she accepted that.

"What've you got there?" Chase asked.

"I found this while I was exploring the passage beyond the cavern; I had completely forgotten about it. It looks like a carving of a fish, don't you think?"

"It's pretty crude, but yes, I'd say it resembles a fish. I don't think you want to keep it in your pocket if you want it to stay whole. Here, I have something for you." He reached into his shirt and pulled out a plain and simply made silver locket, its worn surface dented and scratched. Catrin had seen the locket many times but had never seen what was in it. It hung from a necklace made of thin leather strips braided together and tied in a knot.

He deftly separated the strips and removed one. He retied the two remaining strips and slipped his necklace back on. "You never know when these thongs will come in handy," he said with a wink. She watched him form a tiny noose from the leather thong. He extended his open palm, and she placed the small carving in his hand. He looped the little noose around the tail of the fish, and created a necklace that firmly secured her carving.

"May you wear it in good health," he said, placing it in her hand. She admired his handiwork, holding it up and studying it for a moment before slipping it around her neck. She let it hang outside her shirt, so it could be seen.

"It's beautiful in its own way. Don't you agree?"

"It's a lot like you, Cat. If you look hard enough, it's kinda pretty," he said with a smirk. "Perhaps you're both jewels in the rough."

He ran ahead of her back to the campfire, drawn by the smell of cooking fish. Benjin and the others were eating fish and drinking the last bottle of springwine. More fish roasted over the fire, with a plate of fillets waiting to be roasted.

"I give thanks to the mighty fishermen who have provided so well for us. My compliments to your skills," Catrin said with a smile.

The day had left them tired and hungry, and the fish were satisfying. The springwine disappeared, and they wished that bottle were not the last. Despite their exhaustion, restlessness set in. Benjin kept a watchful eye on the surrounding land, alert for any movements, but the night remained peaceful and still.

Catrin longed for something sweet and, thinking she smelled apples, stood and said she was going to look around. Clear skies and a full moon illuminated the night, and she searched the sky for the comet. It was smaller and farther across the sky, but when she spotted it, her thoughts focused on it, and she was drawn to it. It mesmerized her and drew her closer, but she became frightened and turned aside when arcs of power leaped between her fingertips. Shaken, she walked on, following a trail defined by smell alone. She was nearly at the base of the hill when she spotted the trees, mere paces above the mud line.

They were few and stunted, but they were heavily laden with fruit. Catrin scanned the branches for ripe apples and picked those within her reach, but she wanted a few more. As she stood on the tips of her toes and stretched toward an apple, hands grabbed her waist. She gasped when they lifted her into the air but was reassured when she heard Benjin chuckle. She snatched four beauties from the highest branches, and Benjin lowered her gently.

"It looked like you needed a lift."

"Except for the fact that you frightened me out of my wits for a moment, I thank you. I'm glad you're here too. I need to talk to you." He nodded, and she went on. "Do you believe I'm the Herald of Istra?"

"Yes, I do believe you are," he replied slowly and deliberately. "I believed it the instant you said you were. I was undecided until that moment. When I returned from Harborton and found out you were gone, I was worried beyond reason. Chase and the others were just as distraught, and we reviewed everything we knew. They told me about the night in the greatoak grove. I'm truly sorry about that, Catrin."

"Why do you keep calling me that? You've called me 'li'l miss' for as long as I can remember. Why don't you still call me that?"

"I'm sorry, Cat--uh, li'l miss," he fumbled. "You've changed in the last year . . . and for the better; you're becoming a strong young woman. It's not the changes in you that caused me to use your name, though," he said, and Catrin glanced up in surprise. "I've been remiss, you see. I have failed to properly perform the duties of a position passed to me by my grandfather.

"When I was a boy, he said he had a very important job for me. He said we were Guardians of the Vestrana, though I knew very little of what that meant at the time. I had already been sworn to secrecy, and he knew I could keep a secret. I guess he was right about that, at least, because you are only the third person I've ever told.

"He said our job was difficult but had a single aim: we were to protect the Herald and their line and swear our lives to them. Since I didn't understand at first, he explained it. 'A time will come when the Herald will need protection, and our family will answer the call; that is our destiny and our duty,' he said to me. He told me to train myself both as weapon and shield, and so I became a soldier." Fascinated, Catrin nodded for him to continue.

"That's why I started calling you by name; it is my duty to show you proper respect." Catrin needed time to absorb what she had heard. Her perceptions of events and people kept shifting.

Benjin had always lived at the farm with her and her father and had been a part of her world. She'd never before wondered why he lived there and had no wife or children of his own, and she began to see him in a new light.

"Well, the Herald is telling you to stop it," she said, smiling and waving her finger in his face. "You can call me by name if you like but not solely because I'm the Herald."

Benjin smiled. "Li'l miss, consider it done."

"What do we do from here?" she asked.

"I think we should do what you think is best. I'll give you my best advice if you want it, and I'm sure Chase and the others will as well, but my first duty is to protect you. I hope you consider our advice, compare it to your senses and your gut, and then make your decisions based on those things. I'll do my best to help--no matter what you decide."

She felt inadequate and small, yet it was up to her to decide what actions to take, what course to follow. The responsibility was a little frightening. What if she made the wrong choices?

"I don't want you to stay with me because your family was sworn to protect the Herald. I want you to stay because you want to stay," she managed through tears she hadn't realized she was crying.

Benjin pulled her into his arms, hugging her close. "There, there, li'l miss. Don't you cry. I'm here because I want to be here, and no one could tear me away. My duty to the Herald is just a fortunate coincidence that tells me to do what I would have done anyway."

Catrin cried and hugged him back; then she wiped her eyes and gathered the apples, while he picked several that were not yet ripe, saying they would make a nice treat in a few days. When Catrin stood, he noticed her carved fish.

"I like your necklace."

"Thank you. So do I. I found it while I was exploring the cavern, and I just remembered it when I was talking to Chase. He made the necklace for me," she said.

"He did a nice job; it compliments you."

* * *

Premon Dalls shuffled along the halls with the rest of the refugees as they were moved to their new homes within the audience halls. As the seemingly endless line of humanity poured into the halls, pushing, shoving, and vying for any scrap of space they could claim as their own, Premon faked a coughing fit. Standing in the arched entranceway, flanked by the strange carvings that adorned the archway and pretending to catch his breath, he examined the mechanism Master Edling had told him about.

The entranceways were narrow, yet long, and they served more than one purpose. Though the ceiling was decorated and appeared to be of solid rock, it was a ruse. The designers of the Masterhouse had foreseen the possibility of a siege, and they had built defense mechanisms into their fortress. Above these corridors lay a mountain of rubble and rock supported by joists that could hold its weight but little more. Above that stood a massive shaft, and at the top, an enormous weight was suspended by a chain. All Premon had to do was retrieve the special rod that Master Edling had told him how to find, insert it into the mouth of either carving, twist, and yank. That was all there was to it, at least that was what Master Edling had said. How Premon was supposed to trigger all three collapses before anyone emerged was something of a mystery, but Premon didn't care. He had nothing to lose.

The thought of killing all those people, sentencing them to starvation, would have made most men sick, but Premon considered himself a practical man. The loss of the refugees would mean many more months before those in the Masterhouse would either starve or be forced to surrender themselves into slavery. When he had revealed to Peten Ross that he could escape through the sewers, Premon had known he was sending the boy to his death, but he had also known that it would mean one less mouth to feed. Now he would achieve the same result, only on a much larger scale.