Even Catrin found herself speechless as she watched Strom climb the stairs, leaving without another word. In her hand she held a blade like none she'd ever seen or imagined, yet it fit her perfectly. The pommel was contained within a shielded sleeve that allowed her to swing it without keeping a tight grip, and she guessed it would protect her wrist should she strike something unforgiving. The blade forked at the end into two blades, each tip shaped like an indented triangle that tapered to a deadly point. Though not covered in scrollwork, there was a subtle design that seemed to hide under the glossy shine, and Catrin could not imagine how the delicate image could have been created. Truly Strom had become a master of the anvil and forge, quite possibly with help from Kyrien, whether Strom liked it or not. After his outburst, Catrin guessed not.
Even the sheath had been designed to work with the harness that secured Catrin. Kyrien had been accurate in every detail. Catrin moved from side to side, her feet jumping from toehold to toehold, and she felt secure at all times without feeling trapped in place. If ever it did come to a midair fight, Catrin felt she would be able to take evasive and perhaps even offensive action without fear of plummeting from the sky.
Looking up, she found the eyes of all the Arghast who remained at Dragonhold regarding her with wonder. 'Fly!' one shouted, and the others took up the chant, despite those who tried to quiet them.
Almost instantly someone else shouted, 'Reaver to the north!'
'Demons to the south!'
'Fly!' demanded the Arghast.
Catrin froze, certainty beyond her grasp. Indecision held her fast, and Kyrien turned to look at her. In his eyes she saw acceptance of death and something more, something indefinable and magical. This was his only communication to her as their enemies approached. A furor had erupted around them as people sought to arm themselves or flee. There was no time for Catrin to unstrap herself. Morif ran forward with his long knife bared. He had two straps cut before Catrin forced him back. 'No!'
'Now is not the time to risk everything, Catrin. You must get inside to safety. Cut yourself free and I'll get you there. I promise you. Let the guards defend Kyrien as they've done before.'
'Demons to the north! By the gods, they're everywhere!'
This attack was unlike those that had come before. This was no feint meant to harass them and test their strength. This was a full-on assault. Among the demons walked giants in chains. Catrin felt her courage flee. These beasts were like something straight from a nightmare. Towering over the demons, they looked like the massive statues in the Valley of the Victors come to life. Every muscle in their upper torsos stood out, pronounced and defined, giving them a hard and angular look. Short, coarse hair covered their legs and whiplike tails. Thick fingers and toes made appendages look more like battering rams.
Reaver swooped low from the north and skimmed over what were obviously
'Hold your bolts! Wait for it,' Morif shouted as he left Catrin's side. 'Wait for my command!'
Catrin looked down at the straps that had been cut away, knowing she could not cut her way out of the saddle in time to retreat, she tried to think of a way to repair them, but then the world turned upside down.
Durin woke to the sound of footsteps rushing through the halls of Dragonhold. Shouts echoed from a distance, and a cold feeling washed over him. His muscles were stiff, attesting to how long he'd slept.
'Catrin has saddled Kyrien,' someone whispered as he and a companion passed the alcove.
Durin shuddered. There had been hints and rumors that the Herald had been building a saddle and that she would use it to teach the Arghast to fly dragons, but he'd never really believed it. Catrin had always been a part of his life, and though she occasionally did things he couldn't explain, she didn't seem as powerful as the tales would imply. Excitement charged in and he wondered if she really could be saddling Kyrien. In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to get to the front gate and see what was really going on. He was tired of hearing about the battles and excitement that had taken place while he was carrying water, and he wanted to finally witness something for himself.
The distant shouts took on an alarming note, and it became clear that something was wrong. Knowing Miss Mariss would have his hide if he took too long to return with fresh water, he came up with a plan. The only way he could save time would be to run to the God's Eye, which he couldn't do with full buckets. Turning his eyes on the glowing rune that waited in the darkness, Durin smiled.
Slowly he emptied the first bucket into the rune. The glowing chasm seemed bottomless, and Durin grinned, knowing he'd just come up with a brilliant solution to some of his problems. A bit of steam rose from the rune, but Durin didn't hesitate and poured the second bucket in as well. Now he could jog to the God's Eye with empty buckets after taking a quick peek at what was happening in the great hall. Before he left the alcove, though, more steam rose from the rune and a high-pitched whistle sounded.
Durin considered running, but he had to find out what would happen next. The stone beneath his feet trembled, and a deep, bone-chilling rumble gained intensity. An enormous gout of steam rose from the rune, driving Durin back. The whistling grew higher and higher in pitch until it and the steam suddenly stopped. For a moment, there was silence.
Then Dragonhold moved.
Chapter 10
In a war with the mindless, there is no room for surrender or mercy.
Straps pulled tight as Catrin fell back in the saddle, driven far into the seat by the force of Kyrien's launching himself into the air, colliding with Reaver, and ending up locked together with the massive feral dragon. Catrin found herself hanging, upside down, and flying over an army of demons that approached from the south, the air pressing her goggles back into her face. Spears flew at her, and she dodged them as best she could. Her left side remained firmly strapped in, but with every move, the right side of her harness loosened.
Reaver forced Kyrien low over the trees, and branches assaulted her. A stand of ancient pine rose above the canopy, and Reaver drove them toward it. Kyrien roared and Catrin felt his muscles bunching. Just before she struck the trees, Kyrien flexed and rolled, turning Reaver over and driving him into the trees. A terrible snapping resounded through the valley, and Catrin felt Reaver let go of Kyrien. Again she was driven into her seat as Kyrien climbed sharply. After cinching up the right side of the harness as best she could, she gripped the severed ends of the straps. It seemed a futile effort, but it was the only thing she could think of.
As Kyrien turned on a wingtip, Catrin caught sight of Reaver righting himself and slowly gaining altitude, as he did, he let out a terrifying roar that Catrin felt as much as heard. With little more than a quick mental warning, Kyrien tucked his wings and dived at Reaver, who roared again. Dropping like a stone, Catrin felt as if she would lose her stomach. Then she moved into the upper toeholds and gripped the horn with straining hands.
Almost too late, Catrin prepared herself. With a terrible impact, Kyrien struck Reaver, who had rolled over and extended his claws just prior to the collision. The terrible sound of three sets of lungs being emptied of air echoed in the canyon. The world darkened as they plummeted from the sky, tangled together. In a haunting moment, Catrin wondered if she were dreaming. All around them flew dragons, which dived in close only to retreat. Just before she thought she would succumb to unconsciousness, Catrin lurched sideways, seeing another feral dragon reach in and pull Kyrien and Reaver apart. Immediately both dragons righted themselves, and still branches raked them before they could regain the air.
Kyrien stayed low and sped south of Lowerton. Edling's Wall marred the landscape, a brown and gray line that divided her homeland. The new gate was progress, but Catrin would prefer the Wall ceased to exist. Following the river as it broadened, Kyrien flew low over a waterfall that poured into a familiar lake. Catrin had no time to
