Chasing the Prophecy Read online

  “True,” Jason said, “but that gives us no guarantee about what you might do tomorrow. I’d feel better if you promised me you won’t turn on us.”

  “Haven’t you heard? The word of a displacer is worthless. There is a whole family of jokes on the subject.”

  “I can’t judge the other displacers,” Jason said. “I’ve barely known any. You’re the only one I really know. Ever since Whitelake, you’ve been really honest with me. Even when you turned in me and Rachel, you were open about it. You’ve stuck your neck out for me. Your word means something to me.”

  Turning to gaze out at the horizon, Ferrin gave a slight nod. “Very well, Jason. I swear that I will continue to support this rebellion. I gave part of my carotid artery to Galloran in token of my sincerity, and part of my brachial artery to you. With that ear, I’m running out of body parts to spare.”

  Jason pocketed the ear. He would put it in the same pouch as the artery. “The ear will be good to have. Imagine if something happened to the eagles!”

  “The possibility had crossed my mind.”

  “This will be one-way communication,” Jason realized. “I won’t be able to hear from you. How will I know you’re listening?”

  “I’ll be listening,” Ferrin assured him. “Unless I die, in which case the cross-dimensional connection will be severed, and the ear will leak blood and grow cold. It would be hard to miss.”

  “Right. Hey, speaking of broken connections, I have a displacerly question.”

  “Then I probably have an answer.”

  “Two displacers gave Galloran their eyes,” Jason established.

  “Yes.”

  “What if they die? Would his eyes rot?”

  “A fair question,” Ferrin said. “Can Galloran see out of those eyes?”

  “Of course.”

  “And the displacers can too, which means he has a shared grafting. In a shared grafting, the mutual body part is simultaneously supported by both organisms. If Galloran dies, the eyes can draw from the displacers to remain alive and functional. If the displacers die, the eyes will lose their cross-dimensional connection and become the sole property of Galloran. They should remain healthy and serviceable. Displacers have been hunted and killed so a person could become the sole owner of a grafting. It makes our kind think twice before we share a body part.”

  “That’s good to know,” Jason said. “I was kind of worried about him.”

  “There are plenty of reasons to worry about Galloran,” Ferrin replied. “Rotten eyeballs is not one of them.”

  “Thanks for the info.” Jason realized that this might be the last time he spoke to Ferrin in private before parting ways. “Take care of yourself.”

  “I always do.” Ferrin placed a hand on Jason’s shoulder and looked him in the eye. “Jason, I wasn’t joking that I’m betting on you. I’m wagering everything. This will be tough all around. Find a way to get your part done. I believe in you.”

  Jason swallowed. He didn’t want to ask the question, but he couldn’t resist. “Why?”

  “Excuse me?”

  Jason looked away, toward the carved wall of the building. “Nothing. I’ve just been stressing out lately. I don’t get why the oracle would count on me so much.”

  Ferrin nodded reflectively. “I’m glad you feel that way.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The odds are against you. You’d be a fool if you went into this feeling overconfident.”

  “So why would you bet on me?”

  Ferrin looked at Jason shrewdly. “For my part in this to succeed, your part must succeed. The odds are against us, but even if the chance is minuscule, we still have one. You’ve accomplished some amazing things. You’ve performed well under pressure. You’ve shown conviction and integrity. Maybe it’s not realistic, but it’s bold, and necessary, so I’m willing to believe you can pull this off.”

  “Okay,” Jason managed, his throat thick with emotion. “I’ll believe in you, too.”

  CHAPTER 2

  MIANAMON

  From his perch hundreds of feet above the temple floor, Jason watched a pair of apes circle each other, quarterstaves held ready. The simian combatants stepped gingerly, slender torsos hunched, long limbs coiled. The taller of the white gibbons stood roughly the same height as Jason. Screeching and hooting, they rushed together, elongated forms wielding the staffs with fluid agility. Many other apes watched the duel, close-set eyes fixed on the fiercely clacking rods.

  The white gibbons had been engineered by Certius, the ill-fated wizard who had made his home in the southern jungles of Lyrian. Although the gibbons lacked the power of speech, they had surprising intelligence, and communicated with humans using hand gestures.

  Iron lattices covered many of the higher walls and ceilings within the Temple of Mianamon. The gibbons could travel across the framework with careless grace, leaping and swinging, dangling from hands or feet, heedless of the potential fall. They mostly resided on lofty shelves near the summit of the temple. Jason had made it up here using a cramped system of tunnels, stairways, and ladders.

  Observing the apes was one of his favorite pastimes at Mianamon. He had taught them to hold batting practice using quarterstaves and citrus fruit. He could seldom get an ape to strike out. Changeups worked best.

  Today the brawling apes failed to distract Jason. Rods cracked, gibbons hooted, but he watched from a distance, alone, his mind far from the playful sparring. After several months, this would be his last day at Mianamon. Within hours he would part with Rachel and Galloran and many of his other friends. Their season of rest and preparation had been shattered when Rachel was ambushed last night. With little warning, suddenly they had to leave.

  Jason watched the skillful apes without any pleasure at all. So why was he here? Had he thought the apes might hold solutions to his troubles? Of course not. Then what was he doing? Sulking? Hiding?

  Jason had spent more days at this tropical temple than the rest of his time in Lyrian combined. He had turned fourteen at some point, though he couldn’t be certain which day, since the passage of time between his world and Lyrian was out of sync. Further complicating matters, the calendar in Lyrian had ten months, each with thirty-eight days.

  Winter in the jungle had never grown cold. The days had gotten a little shorter, the air less warm on occasion, the rainfall more persistent, but Jason had never needed a heavy cloak. He had spent much of the winter training with weapons. Ferrin, Drake, Aram, Corinne, and Jasher had been working directly with Galloran, and they had in turn provided instruction to Jason, Tark, Nia, Io, and Farfalee.

  Jason was a much improved swordsman. He could now make a respectable showing against Ferrin or Drake on the practice field. Farfalee had helped him with archery, Nedwin had offered lessons in knife work, and Io had tutored him in wrestling. For the first time, Jason felt he might be able to contribute in a fight, rather than desperately hope to survive until the others got the job done. In theory he would be more useful than ever. Could his new combat skills be part of the reason the oracle had placed so much importance on his participation in the upcoming quest?

  “Catching one last ape battle?” a voice asked, making Jason jump and turn. It was Rachel, looking mystical in her acolyte robes. He hadn’t seen her since the incident, and although Galloran had reassured him that she was fine, it was a relief to see she truly looked unharmed.

  “Some people build model ships. Some pop bubble wrap. I’m more into dueling gibbons.”

  “Ferrin was looking for you.”

  “I was going to come down. Eventually.” He tried to think of a smooth way to bring up the attempt on her life. “Hey, are you okay?”

  “I didn’t get stabbed. I’m about how you’d expect.”

  “I’m so sorry that happened.”

  “I talked to Galloran. He helped. I’d honestly rather not dwell on it.” Rachel sighed, eyes on the apes. “Can you believe we’re leaving?”

  “Not really. I knew it was co
ming, but still . . . I wish I felt more ready.”

  “How do you get ready to save the world or die trying?”

  “I guess that’s the problem.” Jason stood, stretching his arms and legs. It felt good. He must have held the same position for longer than he had realized. “Are you wearing those robes out of here? Planning to do some trick-or-treating?”

  Rachel chuckled, looking down at herself. “I’ll wear Amar Kabal robes for the road. But I’m bringing these, too. Galloran thinks they make me look more wizardly.”

  “Don’t dress for the job you have—dress for the job you want.”

  “I guess that’s the idea. Maybe I should dress up as an innocent bystander.”

  “Too late for that.” Jason stared down at his feet. He was going to miss her. Rachel’s hand clasped his and he glanced up. Her eyes looked a little misty. He scowled. “Don’t get all sentimental.”

  “I hate that we have to split up.”

  “If you can’t trust an old lady packed in clay and dipped in perfume, who can you trust?” With her dying words, the oracle had established that Rachel, Galloran, Io, Ferrin, Nedwin, Nollin, and Tark had to depart on one quest while Jason, Farfalee, Jasher, Drake, Aram, Corinne, and Nia left on another. While Rachel was off trying to raise an army to attack Felrook, Jason would be seeking crucial information from an ancient seer. According to the oracle, both quests needed to succeed in order to defeat Maldor.

  “That really is what we’re doing,” Rachel sighed. “We’re placing our lives in the hands of some old lady packed in clay.”

  “I didn’t mean to insult her,” Jason amended. “Everyone says she was a true oracle. She seemed legit.”

  “She’s the same lady who sent Galloran on the quest for the Word. Look how that ended up! He suffered so much based on a false hope!”

  Jason shrugged. “Do you have a better idea?”

  “Not really. But just because the oracle proposed a plan doesn’t necessarily make it perfect. One of her people tried to kill me! How’d she miss that? I’ve been working with the top acolytes. They’ve taught me some Edomic words, but I can already use the commands better than any of them. I wouldn’t trust most of them to foresee what I’m having for breakfast tomorrow. What if the oracle wasn’t as wise and magical as everybody thinks? Or what if she went crazy? Farfalee told us that Darian the Pyromancer lived ages ago. He should be dead. What if he is? And Felrook seems invincible. What if we’re all marching to our doom, thanks to the desperate ramblings of a dying crackpot?”

  The possible validity of her doubts made Jason uncomfortable. “You’re probably just spooked because of last night.”

  “This isn’t just about that,” Rachel said. “I’ve been getting more stressed ever since the oracle spoke. I wanted to believe her. She seemed confident and sincere. She gave us hope. I’ve tried to be positive and to focus on my training. But with us about to actually leave, I feel less certain than ever. I needed to tell someone.”

  “And you picked me? I’m honored.”

  “I was thinking maybe we could go talk to Galloran.”

  “We? When did I sign on as a doubter?”

  Rachel scowled skeptically. “You aren’t nervous?”

  “Sure, I’m nervous! But that’s not the same as deciding it’s a mistake.” Jason paused. He wasn’t ready to do cartwheels of joy at the prospect of leaving Mianamon, but in spite of his insecurities he found he really did feel they were doing the right thing. That was something, at least. “You really want to bug Galloran with this on the day we’re supposed to leave?

  “Maybe,” Rachel said uncomfortably. “I’d hate to be part of a train wreck just because I was too scared to speak up.”

  “Getting attacked in the middle of the night would freak out anybody. I can understand how it could make you question the oracle.”

  “That’s only part of it. I worry that we’re betting everything on this one opinion. Are we really sure she got it right?”

  Jason glanced at a hooting gibbon as it triumphantly raised its quarterstaff in the air. “Tell me what you would tell him.”

  “Not if you’re just going to watch the gibbons.”

  “Sorry. I like how they celebrate. Go ahead. This is actually a great place for a private talk. I’m paying attention.”

  Avoiding his gaze, Rachel tugged self-consciously on her sleeves and cleared her throat. “Okay. Galloran, I’m worried that the oracle may not have made an accurate prediction. I mean, she sent you after the Word, and that didn’t turn out so great. She didn’t know that one of her students was an assassin. She was dying when she spoke to us. What if her mind was foggy? What if she was just desperate?”

  “You’re worried that Felrook can’t be taken?” Jason checked.

  Rachel shrugged. “I know we have an opportunity. Maldor’s main armies are in the east, fighting Kadara. Since Maldor isn’t worried about anyone attacking him, Felrook isn’t heavily defended. But what if he’s right not to worry? Nobody thought Felrook could be taken until the oracle told us to do it. If she was wrong, the last armies resisting Maldor will be crushed! And the other group won’t have it any easier.”

  “We have to do impossible stuff too,” Jason agreed.

  “What if this is like the Word? What if we’re heading down a false trail?”

  “We’ll all die,” Jason said honestly.

  “And you’re okay with that?” Rachel blustered.

  “I’m not okay with dying,” Jason said. She clearly needed reassurance. It was hard to tell what would help her. He had plenty of his own concerns, but at least he felt convinced that their quests were necessary. “Normally, I wouldn’t risk my life for anything. But these aren’t normal circumstances. I get that we really could die—we’ve already lost people we know. The oracle never promised we’d make it. She didn’t promise we’d succeed, either. But she did say that our only chance for winning would be to follow her instructions. Her words were good enough for Galloran. They were good enough for the drinlings. They were even good enough for the Amar Kabal, and you know how careful they are.”

  “But how do I know the oracle got it right?” Rachel asked, almost pleading.

  Jason considered her question. “You know better than anyone how Galloran can look into minds.”

  “We talk without speaking all the time,” Rachel said. “He even sometimes does it when I’m not communicating with him on purpose.”

  “Don’t you think he was making sure the oracle was being straight with us?” Jason asked. “Don’t you think he was watching her mind the whole time? You know how smart he is, how cautious. He’s been burned before. And he’s convinced.”

  “True,” Rachel admitted.

  “You spoke with the oracle, just like the rest of us. She knew things about us that she couldn’t have known unless she was the real deal. She was the oracle here for a long time. Everybody accepted her as authentic. She didn’t promise we’d win, but I’m sure that what she told us is true. Basically, if we want to save Lyrian, we have to do this, even though it’ll be brutal.”

  “She warned that even if we won, many of us wouldn’t make it,” Rachel reminded him. “And she told us that we would probably fail.”

  “True,” Jason said. “But we fail for sure if we don’t try.”

  Rachel nodded thoughtfully. She looked into his eyes. “You’re convinced?”

  Jason found himself turning inward, taking her question seriously. Sure, he had been looking for arguments to reassure her, but it was more than just that. He realized that he really believed what he was saying. This needed to happen. It felt true in his gut, in his bones, right down to his core. “Yeah, I am.”

  “So I shouldn’t bother Galloran?”

  “Depends why you want to talk to him. If you need reassurance from him, go ahead. But you’re not going to point out any doubts he hasn’t already considered. He knows the stakes, and he made his choice.”

  Rachel sighed, her whole body sagging. “Maybe you�
�re right. It isn’t like I realized some specific danger that everyone overlooked. I guess I’m mostly nervous about leaving, and I let that make me paranoid.”

  “You’re not alone. I get worried too. At least you’ve become the ninja wizard girl. You’ll probably make a big difference out there.”

  “And you won’t?”

  Jason shrugged, trying not to let his worries show. “I hope so. I’m just not sure how.”

  “You’ve done so much. I can’t picture you very nervous.”

  Jason smiled. “I’m glad you can’t imagine me that way. But I’m all wound up, too. Why do you think I’m hiding out up here when I should be packing? Just because these quests are the right thing to do doesn’t mean they won’t be hard.”

  “Or maybe even impossible.”

  “We can’t think that way. We’ll psych ourselves out.”

  Rachel nodded. “All right. I guess you’ve talked me off the ledge.”

  Jason glanced at the enormous drop to the temple floor. “Were you going to jump?”

  “I didn’t mean literally. Wanting to die isn’t my problem.”

  “Good. The slow way down makes a lot more sense. You sure you’re okay?”

  Her smile looked a little forced. “Depends what you mean by okay. Am I looking forward to leaving? No. Do I wish I could go hide under a rock? Yes. Will I do my duty? I don’t really have another choice. I can’t abandon everybody, and I can’t deny that this is the right thing to do.”

  Jason nodded. “That’s what it comes down to. Difficult or not, scary or not, it’s the right choice. Our friends need us. Lyrian needs us. We have to keep going.”

  Her smile became sweeter, more natural. “Thanks, Jason. I needed this. You can be pretty impressive sometimes. Now I don’t have to embarrass myself by bothering Galloran. I’ll find a way to keep it together. Are you done up here? Should we head down?”

  “I guess.” Following her to a ladder, Jason turned to look back. “So much for my farewell ape fights.”

  * * *

  While descending from the heights of the temple, Jason and Rachel found Ferrin awaiting them near the base of a long ladder. Dressed for travel, he leaned against the wall, balancing his dagger on his fingertip. “Jason,” the displacer greeted, sheathing the knife. “I was beginning to worry you had been made an honorary gibbon.”