dying stuff takes it out of you.'
'I suppose that rules out some food, then,' Sinjin said, his hand on his aching stomach.
'Are you kidding? Sometimes you just have to take your chances, and I need food,' Durin said. Besides, with the old man following us, it's not like we can hide.'
Sinjin noticed a tremble in his friend's hands that had never been there before. Guilt stabbed at him.
'Of course they'll come back. Soon. I promise.'
Sinjin wished Durin wouldn't make promises he couldn't keep.
'This is not a good place for you boys to be spendin' time. How 'bout we head to the kitchens and get some food? I'll keep Miss Mariss occupied while you make your escape.' Sinjin looked up at Morif in surprise. The weathered warrior smiled back. 'I may be missing one eye, but my ears work just fine for an old man.'
Durin winced. 'Uh. Sorry.'
Morif gave him a light smack on the back of the head. 'Let's go.'
What Durin had said about the kitchens was not as much of an exaggeration as Sinjin had thought, and the two ducked into the guard hall while Morif shouldered his way into the kitchens. The guard hall was eerily quiet; normally one of the more boisterous rooms in the hold, it stood nearly empty. Never before had so many guards been needed on duty at one time.
Durin and Sinjin sat at one of the long tables, feeling silly with so much table all to themselves. Morif returned sooner than either of them would have thought possible given the mass of people around the kitchens, but Sinjin supposed if there was anyone who could command the attention of so many, it was Morif. The man seemed to be afraid of nothing, and Sinjin had always looked up to him. He'd also gotten to see the other side of Morif-the side that loved to play pranks and to make Millie's face turn red.
'This is the best I could do at the moment,' Morif said as he sat down across from them. Before him was a pile of food that would have lasted Sinjin three days. 'Too bad there wasn't enough for you two.'
Durin and Sinjin both laughed and grabbed some food. It was good to have his friend back, and Sinjin drew strength from that, but chilling fears still haunted him.
'There are a whole lot of people trying to figure out how to best help your mom and dad,' Morif said, perhaps reading Sinjin's mind or perhaps he'd simply overheard the question earlier. 'I think they'll be all right. When your mom traveled astrally from Ohmahold, she was gone for at least twice as long as your parents have been gone for. Worrying won't do you or them any good, so try to stay positive. A little work always helps keep my mind from worry, and Miss Mariss did say something about needing more flour.'
Durin rolled his eyes.
Catrin's spirit floated in the half light, drifting on the breeze, feeling so weary. All she wanted to do was rest. Nearby, Prios lacked substance, becoming diffuse and wavering like smoke in the wind. Only the idea of losing him kept Catrin from giving up and letting herself become part of the oneness once again. She knew that, while she may have been created, she could not be destroyed; she could only change form. The need to protect Prios became impossible to ignore, and she called out for him. He did not respond immediately, and she willed herself closer, yelling his name. His form wavered and looked as if he would be whisked away and dissolved until that which was Prios was no longer whole.
'Prios! Wait! Don't go!' Catrin willed the words to him.
Slowly he gathered himself. Then he turned to her and smiled. 'Oh. There you are. I've been looking for you.'
If Catrin could have cried, she would have, but in this formless state, all she could do was hurt with no tears to release the pain. Both knew they were dying, yet neither of them could do anything to prevent it. Barred from returning to their bodies by what seemed a sea of dark shadows, Catrin and Prios had retreated to a place that was, for her, familiar. The place had once been her home before she and her family had been driven north. It was not to the hearth she went but instead to the place where she had spent most of her time: the barn. This place constantly reminded her of who and what she was, and this was perhaps the only thing that had saved them thus far. Prios seemed unable to anchor himself as firmly, and Catrin exhausted herself watching over him, protecting him, and finding him when he searched for her.
'I think we should go back,' Prios said, and Catrin noticed once again that his energetic form was whole and his spirit spoke to her with its lips and mouth. It had been disconcerting at first since her husband normally spoke only in her mind. The loss of his tongue at the hands of Archmaster Belegra had prevented normal speech. 'We'll die if we stay here.'
'We've tried,' Catrin said. 'They are out there, waiting to tear us apart. I can feel them. I've nothing left to fight them with. If we leave, we die.' Though the air reeked of power, her spirit was weak and insubstantial. Outside waited darkness that seemed to feed on the light of the many comets that now crowded the skies. It frightened her how quickly her world had changed.
'I could go out alone and lead them away,' Prios said. 'Maybe then you could get back. The world needs you. Sinjin needs you.'
'The world and Sinjin need us both.'
Weariness once again set in, just the act of talking depleting what little willpower Catrin still possessed. She turned back to Prios, expecting him to say something, but his form was fading, his eyes fixed on a point far away, and Catrin once again doubted either of them would survive.
Clouds hung low in the sky, and the light of a dozen herald globes lit the way as Chase and his men escorted farmers to their lands. The livestock were gone, much of Lowerton destroyed, but Chase was determined to get all the food, oil, salt, spices, and other goods they could into the hold. In fortnight since the dragons had arrived, the hold's stores dwindled far too rapidly. Crops continued to ripen under the eyes of the dragons during the day, and it seemed one male in particular had claimed this area as his territory. The people called him Reaver. Venturing out in the daylight meant risking being eaten.
Bats flew overhead, attracted by the moths that gathered around the herald globes. Chase and his men were armed with spears, but it was truly little defense against a dragon attack. Only the darkness kept the monsters at bay. Many within Dragonhold would no longer use the hold's name, and Chase felt guilty for having come up with the name in the first place, as it now seemed grossly inappropriate. He couldn't have known things would work out this way, but that didn't stop him from tormenting himself about it.
Climbing along the terraces that lined the valley was treacherous in daylight, and the group moved slowly. A yawn slipped past Chase's defenses; the guards on duty pretended not to notice. Double shifts had become the norm, and the number of people caught sleeping on duty was embarrassing, but they were all overtaxed and trying to adjust. This new life they lived was far less forgiving than what they had known for most of their lives, and the people of the Godfist were a hearty folk who knew their share of hard times. What lay ahead looked grim, and everyone knew it. Even Master Edling seemed to see the need for unity, in his own haughty way. Messengers had been arriving nightly since the dragons first arrived, requesting refuge for a large number of citizens from south of the Wall. Chase knew it was a game of resources; that much he had learned from the Zjhon invasion, if nothing else. Every additional body in the hold was an additional body to feed.
'Knowing Edling,' Morif had said to Chase, 'he'll send us every person with a sniffle, cough, or rash in hopes that disease will wipe us out for him. Then he can just take Dragonhold for himself. He seems already to think it belongs to him.' All his talk about Dragonhold belonging to the people of the Godfist sickened him.
Such cold realizations made Chase feel ill. These were his countrymen, in many cases people he grew up with or attended lessons with, and he felt as if he were abandoning them. In truth, he knew the Masterhouse could hold a large number of people, as could the cold caves. What he didn't know was how well or poorly the Masterhouse and cold caves had been restocked with supplies after the siege. If Master Edling and the council had been lax in their planning, then turning people away could be sentencing them to starvation. Of course, accepting too many could assign the same fate. Chase sighed.
The group had moved on, and he was no longer at his post. He hurried to catch up, and again the other guards pretended not to notice. Chase was their leader, their strength, and they all knew that double shifts for them
