Chasing the Prophecy Page 35

“Tooth enamel!” Farfalee cried, in case those on the beach had not realized.

  Aram threw his other orantium sphere. The Maumet flung the war hammer. The two objects collided in midair. Though at least ten yards away, the brilliant explosion knocked down Aram and a drinling.

  The Maumet charged at those still standing. The drinlings and Jasher fell back and spread out, those at the sides trying to curl around and get behind the attacker. Aram staggered back to his feet as well, racing toward the combat. An arrow from Farfalee glanced off the Maumet’s shoulder, chipping it.

  The enamel figure kicked Zoo aside and used two hands to snap Kay’s neck. Mace ready, Ux came in low and bashed the Maumet in the shin, shattering the bottom of the leg. The foot and lower shin all turned to dust, leaving behind a jagged stump. The Maumet plunged the spiky stump into Ux, who gurgled and twitched.

  Jasher leaped from behind, swinging the torivorian sword in a vicious two-handed stroke. The instant the blade hit the Maumet at the waist, the creature turned a gleaming metallic color. Jason had hoped to witness a crippling blow, but he realized in horror that the Maumet had become torivorian steel.

  An ax-wielding drinling whacked the creature in the thigh with a resounding clang. The ax fell from his hands, the bit notched. An arrow from Farfalee pinged off the Maumet’s head. A hatchet thrown by Zoo clinked against the chest. None of the blows had scratched the reflective surface.

  The lower leg and foot grew back, reducing the Maumet’s stature a small degree, and then the creature snatched the nearest drinling and tore him in half. The Maumet now moved more jerkily, metal body shrieking as if resisting the motion. But it wasn’t dramatically slower than before.

  “Fall back!” Aram cried.

  Four drinlings were now down. Only Jasher, Zoo, Aram, and the drinling beside the boat remained standing. While Zoo and Aram ran for the boat, Jasher dashed away from the water and retrieved the undetonated orantium globe from the sand. The Maumet pursued Aram and Zoo. The drinling by the launch heaved the craft into the water. Aram and Zoo splashed into the shallows.

  The Maumet stopped at the edge of the water. Jasher hit it from behind with the orantium sphere. The explosion flashed, but the Maumet was indifferent. It turned to chase Jasher. The seedman raced across the sand, parallel to the waterline. Joints screeching, the Maumet tried to keep pace, but even with much longer legs, it could not quite pump them fast enough. Jasher pulled ahead and cut across to the water, sprinting through the shallows, then diving forward and swimming.

  Aram helped the burly drinling who had stayed with the launch row over to Jasher, who climbed inside, sword in hand. The Maumet paced back and forth at the edge of the water, metal feet sinking deep into the damp white sand with each stride, joints squealing like tortured dolphins.

  Jason finally relaxed a degree. Toward the end of the skirmish he had thought Jasher would die again for sure, and he’d worried about whether the Maumet would care about crushing an amar. On the white beach four drinlings lay where they had fallen.

  Aram’s launch rowed close to Jason’s. Aram had a scratch on his cheek and a bleeding gash on his forehead. A huge welt disfigured the side of Zoo’s face. One eye was swelling shut.

  “Opinions?” Aram asked, swiping blood from his eyes.

  “We’re in trouble,” Jason said numbly.

  “Was it toying with you at first?” Drake asked.

  “Looked that way,” Jasher replied. “It could have turned to iron the first time we hit it with a weapon. Fight would have been over.”

  “Maybe at first it wanted to stay faster and more flexible,” Farfalee guessed. “The wood was fairly resilient, and it moved more gracefully.”

  “I thought I had it,” Jasher mourned. “I meant to cleave it at the waist. But the instant my blade touched it, the Maumet transformed. Quick as a blink.”

  “If it does that every time, what are we supposed to do?” Jason worried aloud. Once the Maumet had turned into steel, it had won the fight so quickly!

  “The creature is strong,” Aram said. “When it kicked me in the chest, it felt like a blow from a mallet. The impact was not square, and still it might have killed me without my armor and cloak.”

  “Drinlings can take punishment,” Heg said. “You don’t slay us with a blow to the abdomen. But it killed Ibe with a kick.”

  Jason looked at the beach. He tried not to stare at the bodies. Minutes earlier they had all been alive and well. Those hardy drinlings had stormed the beach, ready for a fight, but the Maumet had killed them so savagely, so easily. Had the others not run away, they would have died as well.

  Farfalee gave Aram a white bandage. He held it against the gash in his forehead as he spoke. “We knew it would be bad. I had hopes at first, when Jasher severed the hand. I envisioned us chopping off limb after limb, shrinking the brute until nothing remained. But after Ux took its foot, the creature got serious. The torivorian blade may have surprised it the first time. But clearly, if it chooses, the Maumet can immediately become any substance we use to attack it. Now I understand why everyone keeps away from this island.”

  “Look,” Zoo said.

  On the beach the Maumet crouched over Ux, probing him. The shiny metallic creature turned to gold-tinged skin, then to red muscle, then to white bone, then to brown leather, then finally to the black iron of Ux’s mace. Metal screaming, the Maumet stood upright.

  “Solid iron,” Nia griped. “How do you fight solid iron?”

  Jason shook his head in silence. He had no answer.

  “We’re fortunate that any of us survived,” Jasher said. “We lost good people. Only the safety of the water let some of us escape.”

  “The library must be at least a mile from the coast,” Jason said.

  “Unfortunately, the task ahead will be as difficult as we anticipated,” Farfalee said. “We should return to the Valiant and confer.”

  Drake chuckled darkly. “I’m afraid the only topic will be choosing how we die.”

  CHAPTER 13

  FINAL PREPARATIONS

  The long stable contained more than a hundred horses, all of them impressive specimens, mounts for the elite of Trensicourt. Rachel paced down the center aisle, glancing left and right, murmuring Edomic phrases to those that interested her most. Galloran had instructed her to pick any mount she wished, and she wanted one that would respond warmly to her instructions.

  Tark stood at one end of the stable, Io at the other. Neither man had struck up a conversation with her today. Rachel wore her veiled outfit of black robes. She now had three similar ensembles, and always wore one of them when out in public. In at least one way, the costume worked too well. Each day Io and Tark seemed to regard her with greater awe.

  Rachel paused beside a large, dappled mare. She had learned many commands at Mianamon, but she tried something simple with only the slightest effort of will behind the suggestion. The horse backed up as requested. She gave more instructions, and without resistance or hesitation the mare reared, bowed, stamped a right foot, then a left, and at last sniffed the sweet grass on her flat palm without eating. Rachel hardly had to push to get the messages across. The mare seemed eager to please.

  Rachel stroked the horse and told her to eat. “You’re my girl. You’re bigger than I was planning, but you’re the one I want. White with gray spots . . . how about Snowflake? I know you might have another name, but Snowflake can be your nickname.”

  “Nedwin is coming,” Io announced.

  “Good,” Rachel replied down the aisle. “I think I just found my horse.”

  The tall redhead entered the stable and moved toward her with long strides. “You found a suitable mount?”

  “Better than suitable,” Rachel replied, pulling her veil aside to better see him.

  Nedwin drew near and regarded the horse. “Looks like a respectable choice.”

  “And she’s smart.”

  “Smart can lead to ornery.”

  “Not Snowflake. We have an understanding.
”

  “The king wishes to speak with us,” Nedwin said. “Ferrin has news.”

  Tugging her dark veil back in place, Rachel followed Nedwin out of the stable. The building had been cleared for her inspection, so idle stable hands watched as the foursome strode away.

  “Is it good news?” Rachel asked as they entered the castle.

  “Not sure,” Nedwin replied. “Based on his demeanor, nothing terrible.”

  They passed many soldiers on their way up Galloran’s tower. Partway up the winding stairwell, six guards stepped aside to allow Nedwin access to a hefty door bound with iron. Nedwin unlocked it with a key and led the others inside.

  Galloran, Ferrin, Nollin, and Kerick awaited them. Galloran wore his blindfold.

  “The enigmatic lady in black,” Ferrin greeted with a wry smile.

  Rachel pulled her veil aside. “Ha-ha.”

  “The title has caught on,” Nollin said smugly.

  “Title?” Rachel asked.

  “Galloran’s Dark Lady,” Nollin supplied.

  Rachel had never heard anyone call her that. But nearly everyone she encountered besides Tark and Io had taken to calling her “milady.”

  “That’s a little embarrassing,” Rachel said, taking off her hat.

  “It’s statecraft,” Nollin insisted. “We all have roles to play to add legitimacy to the forthcoming campaign. King Galloran is the saintly hero restored to his throne. Nedwin is the fallen but faithful squire reinstated to a position of influence. Kerick and I are the noble lords of the Amar Kabal, here to pledge the support of our people to the cause. Io is the drinling prince whose presence implies the backing of yet another ancient nation.”

  “And I’m the dirty secret,” Ferrin said.

  Nollin raised a finger in objection. “If your identity as a displacer is ever called into question, you are the turncoat who has provided all the secrets of Maldor’s defenses.”

  “What about Tark?” Ferrin inquired.

  “The commoner elevated to a station of high responsibility,” Nollin replied smoothly. “Evidence that King Galloran recognizes the vital contributions the common man will make in the upcoming turmoil.”

  “Nollin is no stranger to politics,” Galloran said, suppressing a smile. “We are fortunate to have him laboring on our behalf. Copernum and the other connivers at court have hardly known what to make of him.”

  “We all serve where our talents are best suited,” Nollin said humbly, clearly gratified by the praise.

  “I have summoned all of you here because we are ready for war,” Galloran announced. “Our host will depart at first light. But two of you must remain behind.”

  Nobody spoke.

  Rachel glanced at the others. Nollin seemed a natural fit to stay at Trensicourt and play political games. But who else? She didn’t want to end up separated from more of her friends.

  “Trensicourt will be left vulnerable in our absence,” Galloran said. “I worry about treachery from within and attacks from without. I will leave enough soldiers to man the wall and the castle, but little more. A skeleton crew, really. To an extent, Trensicourt will have to rely on the strength of her walls and the attention our offensive will demand. Those two elements should suffice if we can prevent the city from collapsing internally.”

  “Who is to remain?” Io asked.

  “I wish I could bring all of you with me,” Galloran said, “but necessity dictates otherwise. After much consideration I have decided to elevate Nedwin to Duke of Geer and name him regent in my absence, fully empowered to govern the affairs of the kingdom.”

  Nedwin paled beneath his freckles. “This is too great an honor, sire. Pray let me remain at your side.”

  “No honor is too great for my most faithful servant,” Galloran said. “Your house was stripped of your earldom by Copernum. For that reason I have created a duchy in your name. As much as I detest losing my finest scout as I head into the field, I need a man on the throne who I can trust. Brin must come with me into battle. For laying a siege, his engineering skills may prove essential. Nicholas has the mind for the job but not the body. He will serve as one of your counselors, and his contacts will be at your disposal. Tark lacks experience in affairs of state. Bartley has waffled in the past. And obviously the regent cannot be a seedman or a drinling or a displacer. It must be a man of our kingdom.”

  Nedwin looked stricken. “Of course I am yours to command, sire.”

  Rachel felt bad that Nedwin seemed so devastated. She would miss him—he had proven himself amazingly reliable. They were all safer with him around. But she had to admit it was probably a good pick. Nobody was more loyal to Galloran.

  “The job will not be easy,” Galloran affirmed. “By my mandate Copernum and several of his cronies were preparing to take the field with us. But they have fallen ill, victims of a debilitating fever.”

  “Subterfuge,” Nollin grunted. “The coincidence is much too convenient.”

  “Copernum knows a variety of recipes to produce such symptoms,” Nedwin added.

  “Nevertheless, I cannot force sick men into battle,” Galloran said. “Whatever the cause, the symptoms appear legitimate. We lack the time and the means to expose the charade. I will take the majority of their men, leaving only their household guard. But I need not stress how dangerous these vipers might be to the kingdom once my back is turned.”

  “I will protect the kingdom, sire,” Nedwin said.

  “I know your feelings toward Copernum,” Galloran said. “They are completely warranted. Do not move against him unprovoked. But should you catch him conspiring, you will have full authority to administer judgment and punishment.”

  “As you wish, sire,” Nedwin replied.

  “I do not mean to leave you friendless,” Galloran said. “Nollin, you are not mine to command. But given your expertise with statecraft, and given the relationships you have already cultivated here, would you consider remaining with Nedwin to help oversee the kingdom in my absence?”

  “Your trust astonishes me,” Nollin replied.

  “I know the Amar Kabal to be loyal and true, and I have seen evidence that you are more devoted than most. Some of our ideologies have differed in the past, but I know you do not want to see Maldor lay claim to this kingdom.”

  Nollin placed his palms together in his lap. “In truth, my strengths might be better applied to this task than to the siege of Felrook. I will stay if you wish, but please allow me to retain the company and security of my sole countryman.”

  Galloran gave a nod. “Three to stay behind instead of two. I hope you will not have need of Kerick’s sword, but I understand the request. And I agree. Nollin, I ask you to serve as a right hand to Nedwin. Watch out for his interests, help him to comprehend the maneuverings of his enemies, and take what action you must to protect the throne and the kingdom.”

  “I shall do as you say until your return, King Galloran, or until the campaign ends in ruin. After that I make no pledge.”

  “It pains me to miss fighting alongside my people,” Kerick admitted. “Nevertheless, I will remain with Nollin and Nedwin. I vow to protect them both.”

  “I am relieved to have that settled,” Galloran said. “Nedwin, you will be granted the powers of regent in a private ceremony this evening.”

  “As you wish, sire,” Nedwin responded.

  He was saying the right words, but Rachel could tell that Nedwin was disappointed about the assignment. She supposed Galloran could tell as well, though he offered no indication. It was hard to blame Nedwin. Staying in Trensicourt surrounded by plotting enemies would be no fun at all.

  “I have had eagles from the Amar Kabal and the drinlings,” Galloran said. “Both stand ready to march on Felrook. We will coordinate our marches so that we arrive together.”

  “What of the other kingdoms?” Ferrin wondered.

  “A major insurrection is planned in Meridon,” Galloran said. “It will begin tomorrow and might bring us some fighting men in time, thoug
h the revolt will probably prove more valuable as a distraction. I suppose at this late stage I can reveal that Vernon rescued the syllable guardian Trivett from the Isle of Weir, and they will be involved with the uprising.

  “Minor mischief has been planned in a few other kingdoms. To my surprise, a group of four hundred treefolk are currently marching to our aid. They should join us before we reach Felrook.”

  “The treefolk have never left the jungle,” Nollin said in surprise.

  “The treefolk have never had more reason to care for matters outside their borders,” Galloran said. “Through Esmira in the past, and now through Ulani, they have been kept informed of the relevance of our plight. Even so, four hundred is only token support. They could make a much more significant difference if they dared.”

  Nollin nodded. “We’re fortunate to have any of their aid. I had time to observe them. They may not be quite as effective outside their native jungles, but the treefolk are serious warriors.”

  “They have been strengthened by hardship,” Nedwin said. “They were invaded and nearly wiped out by Zokar. And deep in the heart of the jungle they must contend with fearsome predators that most of us can scarcely imagine.”

  “My business is complete,” Galloran said. “Ferrin has some news.”

  All eyes turned to the displacer.

  “Jason has done an excellent job of keeping my ear away from delicate conversations. A prudent practice, given my background, although the precaution limits our knowledge of how their mission is progressing.”

  “We know they hijacked an interceptor at Durna,” Nollin remarked. “The empire is astir over it.”

  “We know more than that,” Ferrin said. “I overheard a conversation today. I believe my ear was packed away in Jason’s cabin aboard the ship, less bundled than normally, and he forgot that I might overhear as he entered conversing with Drake.”

  “What’s the news?” Rachel asked.

  “Jason and the others have reached Windbreak Island. They have confronted the Maumet, losing a number of drinlings in the process. They found the guardian virtually invincible, but I take heart that some of them survived the encounter. They are currently developing strategies to engage it.”