The Dawning of Power

Chapter 5

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.

Moments later one of Jharmin's guards approached. "Lord Arbuckle Kyte has succumbed to age," he said. "Lord Jharmin asks that you leave Lankland on the morrow. He is needed at Wolfhold and will leave this night. Two guards will be left to assure your safe passage back to Mundleboro."

Pain seared Catrin's heart. Compassion for Jharmin overwhelmed her. "Does Jharmin's father live?" Catrin asked Millie.

"No," she said. "He died many years ago in a hunting accident."

"Did my family have anything to do with that accident?"

"No. I don't believe so. Your grandfather had his grandfather killed, and then Jharmin's father killed your grandfather. To my knowledge, that was the last killing your family committed."

Catrin was shamed by the tale, and she vowed to put an end to the killing. With her head bowed, she walked toward Jharmin's camp. He was nowhere in sight, but she moved with purpose and intent.

"Hold," a guard said as she neared.

"I request an audience with Lord Kyte."

"A moment, m'lady."

Jharmin emerged from his tent, his eyes red and swollen. "Say what you have to say."

"I came to express my sincere condolences."

His head snapped toward her, and his face flushed, but then he seemed to sense her sincerity. "Thank you for your concern. I doubt your grandmother will feel the same."

"Jharmin," Catrin said, taking his hand in hers. She was surprised when he didn't pull away. "Our families have been horrible to each other, but the time has come to heal this age-old wound. No more can we afford petty squabbles. Let our generation be the one that puts things to right."

Jharmin pulled his hand free slowly and walked toward the horse lines. He walked to his horse, which was kept separate from all the rest, and ran his hands over the glossy coat.

Catrin moved with him, and she scratched at the base of the horse's mane. The colt stretched out his neck and groaned, wiggling his top lip back and forth.

"You know animals," Jharmin said, and Catrin nodded. "Then you understand that it can be difficult to undo a lifetime of training."

"I understand, but I also know our families stand to lose everything in the coming months. I may have grown up on the Godfist, but I really do have the best interest of the Greatland in my heart."

"Go back to your camp," he said with a long sigh. "I'll send word that I will be delayed, and I'll travel to Ravenhold with you. We'll finish this feud one way or another."

His words were clearly a dismissal, but Catrin felt there was a victory in them, a victory for the people of the Greatland.

Millie and Morif left in the carriage with the dawn, hoping to give the Lady Mangst time to prepare for guests. Catrin could only hope her grandmother would understand.

"Enjoying the wine, Beron?" Master Edling asked.

"Yes," Master Beron replied. "It's quite good."

"And the ham? It's to your liking?"

"Indeed."

"Then you'd best listen to me," Master Edling said. "If Wendel Volker and his Greatlanders have their way, our days of ruling here are over. Gone will be the days of fine eating and drinking. Can you picture yourself working the fields or gutting fish?"

"You've made your point. What is it you want?"

Master Edling smiled. With Beron on his side, he was closer to having a majority vote on the council. Endless deliberation and inconsistent alliances had already proven costly. If he'd had his way, Wendel Volker would already be dead, but others hadn't seen it that way, and his use of Premon Dalls had lost him favor. That would all end now. He was one step closer to regaining his power.

"I want you to talk to Jarvis and Humbry. See if you can get them to listen to reason."

Master Beron snorted. "You expect them to listen to me? They don't trust either of us, and they are terrified the Herald will return."

"I'll attend to the Volker girl. You talk to Jarvis and Humbry. I don't care what they believe; I expect you to convince them. Understand?"

"I understand."

Trying to think of what to say to her grandmother, Catrin clenched her jaw. While she hoped this day would be a new day for Lankland and Mundleboro alike, she knew it had the potential for disaster and ruin, and she could only pray those involved would recognize the uselessness of continued fighting.

Jharmin and his men broke camp and waited for Catrin and her party in a meadow. His guards unfurled his standard, and Catrin got a chill thinking about riding into Ravenhold under the Kyte sigil.

"Your mother would be proud," Benjin said as he helped load her packs and secure them behind her saddle.

"I'm doing my best, but I fear it won't be enough. The hatred between the Mangst and Kyte families has lasted for ages, how can I hope to undo it in a day?"

"You can't," Benjin said. "But you can take the first step. That's often the most difficult one. From there, momentum will carry you along."

In her new clothes, Catrin felt even more out of place. She had hoped to present an imposing image, but she feared she only made herself stand out. The leggings were comfortable but still needed to be broken in. Tossing her leg over her mount proved more difficult than she anticipated, and she suffered the embarrassment of having to try three times before she gained the saddle. With her staff resting in the heel Benjin attached to her stirrup, she rode comfortably.

No one spoke as they approached Ravenhold, but the view of her ancestral home was awe inspiring. Jharmin's face bore no expression, but Chase was clearly stunned by what he saw. He'd seen buildings that physically dominated the land, but Ravenhold seemed to be part of the surroundings, and the landscaping lent to the effect.

Lining the roadway that led to the imposing main entrance, guards stood at attention. Still as stones, they kept their eyes straight ahead, seemingly focused on nothing. Unnerved by the effect, Catrin would almost have preferred leers and catcalls. Atop the central stair, the Lady Mangst emerged, followed by a slip of a girl with fire in her eyes. In the moment Catrin saw her, she resented anyone who had said they looked alike. Lissa had a hard and self-righteous air about her, and the slanted sneer on her face appeared all too natural. Catrin's gut twisted when their eyes met; fury seared the air between them. Her grandmother stood serene and patient, apparently oblivious to the open hostility Lissa radiated.

Jharmin approached with his head high and his chest puffed out, but he managed not to look pompous or arrogant. It was a skill Catrin had to admire. He bowed to the Lady Mangst and Lissa. Catrin bowed as well, and Lissa's fury polluted the air; it washed over Catrin in waves as she straightened, and she tried not to snarl. So much raw emotion was difficult to suppress.

"Lord Kyte," the Lady Mangst said formally. "You are welcome in my home. I am grieved to hear of your grandfather's passing. You have my most sincere condolences."

In Jharmin's eyes and the heady mixture of emotions radiating from him, Catrin sensed a struggle. She assumed he was trying not to let his distrust of the Mangst name despoil this opportunity.

"Lady Mangst, I humbly accept your hospitality and your sentiment," Jharmin said, and he seemed almost sincere.

"Come. Let us feast."

Catrin walked alongside Jharmin. "Thank you," she said.

"It is not for you that I do this," he replied.

"Whatever the reason, I thank you," she said, and though he made no response, she sensed his guard drop just for a moment. It was a short walk to the banquet hall, and Catrin was amazed by what had been done in such a short time. Arrangements of fresh flowers adorned each table, and liveried servants stood ready with covered trays. Lissa was seated to her grandmother's right, and Jharmin sat to her left. Catrin took the seat next to him, and felt, once again, like an outsider within Ravenhold.

"It has been many years since this house hosted a member of the Kyte family," said the Lady Mangst. "It has been far too long. I welcome you, Jharmin Olif Kyte, and I thank you for the kindness you've shown my granddaughter." Catrin felt Lissa's glare. "You have shown great courage and humility in coming here. I commend you."

"I've postponed my journey home so that we might discuss the future. As Catrin has said, the time for fighting is past."

"Agreed."

"How, Lady Mangst, would you suggest we resolve the differences between our families?"

"Perhaps the Zjhon were right about one thing," the Lady Mangst replied. "Perhaps a marriage between our families is for the best." Lissa's face flushed, and she glared at anyone who met her gaze. "My granddaughter Lissa has reconsidered her refusal to marry. When it was the will of the Zjhon, she found this difficult to accept. Now she sees that it is simply the best thing for our people."

Lissa showed no enthusiasm for the prospect, but she did not voice any objections.

"Ah. So that is why you sent Catrin in her stead?"

"It is."

"Lady Lissa, I've not heard you say this is what you desire. Do you wish to see this marriage through?" he asked, and the Lady Mangst nodded to Lissa.

"Lord Kyte, it would be an honor to join your house," Lissa replied formally.

"I suppose you have no reason to desire me as a husband, but a bitter marriage is not something I seek. If you will not come to me of your own free will, then I suggest we look for some other way to resolve this conflict. Perhaps Catrin would have less aversion to marrying me?"

Catrin opened her mouth, but she could find no words. Lissa, though, did not give her the opportunity. "Forgive me, Lord Kyte. It has been a trying time."

"I understand, Lady Lissa. Catrin tells me you believe my family was responsible for the death of your mother. I cannot guarantee that my family was not involved, but I can tell you that I had no knowledge of such cowardly acts. On behalf of my family, I apologize. I realize this may not mean much to one who had to grow up without a mother, but it is the best I can offer at this time. Perhaps, if you would allow me, I can do more over time."

Lissa was bereft of words.

"Our family owes you apologies as well," said the Lady Mangst. "We've not been innocent of senseless and cowardly deeds. I can assure you that Lissa and Catrin had no knowledge of these doings. I take responsibility for the actions of my late husband and his father. I know they did not treat your family well."

"All this suffering over a feud whose origins are long since forgotten," Jharmin said, shaking his head.

"Not completely forgotten," said the Lady Mangst. "It was the death of your great-great-great-grandmother that started the feud. She was riding with Catrin's great-great-great-grandfather when she was thrown from her horse. She landed on an outcropping of jagged shale, and a sharp edge slit her throat. His explanations were never accepted, and so began the senseless acts of violence. Perhaps now we can leave it in the past."

"Can we do this, Lady Lissa? Will you join with me to right the wrongs of our forefathers?"

A long moment of silence hung between them, but then Lissa drew a deep breath. "Yes, Lord Kyte. I will."