Regent

years, and he has not returned.'

'But we could try,' Mirta interrupted. 'Perhaps this is something the academy could help with. Maybe they can call out to the dragons and ask for help. What harm can it cause?'

Brother Vaughn nodded slowly, his deep brown eyes thoughtful. 'I don't suppose I see any harm in it, and it might help the people to feel they are doing something productive. We must, of course, continue to keep Catrin and Prios's actual condition secret. Perhaps we could just tell everyone that we need them to call the dragons here so we can obtain more dragon ore.'

'Maybe you should just throw the dragons a party,' Martik added with a smirk.

'I hadn't thought of that!' Mirta exclaimed.

Martik rolled his eyes.

Chapter 3

Light blinds as readily as shadow.

— Hurakin the Assassin

Black sails crowded the horizon beneath a roiling mass of darkness. Unlike any storm clouds Pelivor had ever seen, towering formations curled in on themselves and emanated malevolence, as if the clouds themselves wished to destroy him and everyone else aboard the Slippery Eel. Even if the storm were simply a storm, the fleet of black ships drew ever closer, and Pelivor could feel their intent. It made his knees tremble.

'You just need to believe you can do it,' Kenward repeated, as if those words could somehow convince Pelivor that he could do something that only the most powerful person on all of Godsland could do. Though he considered Catrin a friend, she was the Herald of Istra, and he was nothing compared to her. Though he'd shown the slightest spark of talent with Istra's powers, it had been only that, literally, a spark.

'I'm trying,' Pelivor said, doing his best not to let his annoyance put an edge on his voice. Though Kenward was the captain of the Slippery Eel, he was also a friend. Cold air pressed his loose-fitting silks to him, and his normally tight and deeply tanned skin drew even tighter, making him look as if he were carved from stone.

'I know, but-'

He didn't have to finish the statement; both could see the darkness closing in on them. The towering clouds looked as if they would swallow the world, and sudden bursts of lightning illuminated them from within, dark silhouettes standing out against the temporarily lit backdrop. Pelivor took a deep breath and tried to calm himself with no success. Lives depended on him, and he had no reason to believe he would succeed. All he had to go by were Kenward's descriptions of what Catrin had done, and those were decidedly vague. Perhaps if she were here, she could teach him, but she wasn't here. He also didn't have her dragon ore figurine or staff to draw energy from; the only power within his grasp was what he could draw from the air around him. He could feel it, smell it, and even taste it, but he had no idea how to gather it or focus it. He might as well try to gather fog with a bucket.

Walking back to the bow, Pelivor couldn't help feeling like a charlatan as he spread his arms wide. The crew remained silent, watching him, willing him to succeed, knowing another failure would likely mean death for them all. That thought made Pelivor ill. When Grubb approached with a mug of aromatic broth, it was all Pelivor could do to force it down.

'It'll cure what ails ya,' the ship's cook said, his voice steady and a half smile on his face. Pelivor wished he shared the man's confidence, and it must have shown. 'Don't worry. That man's been trying to kill me for years, and he ain't succeeded yet,' he said, jerking a thumb in Kenward's direction.

Handing the empty mug back to Grubb, Pelivor hoped this day would not change that. Ever since they'd left the Greatland bound for the Godfist, loaded with precious cargo, he'd had a bad feeling in his gut, and since the appearance of the black fleet, his fears had only grown.

Kenward paced from bow to stern and tried to avoid making eye contact with Pelivor, knowing the man was near his breaking point and there was nothing he could say to ease the burden. For years the Slippery Eel had been among the fastest ships on the water and had evaded even the most determined pursuers, but she was weighed down, and the ships behind them moved faster than any he'd seen before. He wondered again if the unnatural storm drove them to such great speed or if some new design allowed them to cut the waves faster than ships that had come before. Using his looking glass, he could see nothing that distinguished those ships from any other, and he came, once again, to the conclusion that some malevolent force drove them forward. The sense of impending evil was the most telling factor, and Kenward felt a rare wave of fear overtake him. Despite his efforts to hide the fear from his crew, he knew they could sense it, and that alone was enough to put them all on edge.

Watching Pelivor from behind, he prayed the gods had not lost patience with him, and after tossing another gold coin into the waves, he hoped it was enough. A dim glow pulsed around Pelivor's hands, and Kenward dared to hope, but nothing happened. Soon after, the glow faltered and the sailor lowered his hands, his frustration clear in his posture. Again Kenward ran through his options, and again he came to the conclusion that nothing he could do would save them. Catrin's stonework thrones, cut from the mines deep below Ohmahold, were too heavy for his men to move without rope, pulleys, and substantial frameworks-none of which would be available until they reached the Godfist. He'd known the risk and accepted it, but now their precious cargo became their biggest liability, and jettisoning the other heavy cargo would destabilize the ship, only making the problem worse. Pelivor was their only hope, and that hope was as thin as gossamer.

'They're gonna catch us soon,' came the voice of Bryn, the bosun, and Kenward turned to him with an annoyed glare for stating the obvious. 'I know we can't unload the thrones, but if we just keep going as we are, we'll have to fight them on their terms.'

'What are you suggesting?'

'Do something they won't be expecting,' Bryn said with a wink, the freckles standing out on his reddened skin, which never seemed to tan, and his blue eyes twinkled.

Kenward grinned, a plan forming in his mind.

Pelivor watched in horror as the darkness swallowed the blue skies above them. Soon the black ships would overtake them, and all of them would die because he had failed them. His friends would die because he was feeble and weak minded. No. He would not give up. Catrin would not have given up, and he let the memory of her drive him. He remembered how she had fought to make him think more of himself and how he had grown to love her. Even if he could never have her, he would always have her in his heart.

With a shuddering breath, he set his jaw and let his fears melt away. Catrin had believed in him, and he let that belief become his own. Opening himself to the energy around him, he pulled it to him as best he could and let it fill him, slowly and steadily. Before he had let his impatience and fear drive him, but now he tried something different, filling himself with more energy than he'd ever held before. It felt as if he would catch fire or simply explode, but he continued to gather energy and hold it within him. It was like holding his breath, and his body began to burn with need, every instinct telling him to release it before it was too late, but still he held on, knowing that failure meant death.

The world around him ceased to exist, and he felt as if he might pass out, but he held the image of Catrin in his mind. She became his focal point, and by concentrating on her, his body's urgings became more distant and less poignant, as if he were but an observer of his own form. With her translucent hair blown back by the wind in his mind, Catrin's face held the strength of nations; her eyes, the fire of the sun; and her body, the might of the world. Though she was slender and slight, she looked as if she could pull the moon from the sky and cast it into the seas. When she looked at him, he felt her warmth wash over him, and he smelled her fragrance. In that moment he remembered their kiss, knowing it would be the only one they would ever share, yet it was enough to sustain him and hold him in thrall. Always before he'd let the guilt prevent him from reliving the memory, knowing that she'd