Chasing the Prophecy (Beyonders)

by Brandon Mull

  * * *

  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.”

  “I heard you were looking for me,” Jason replied.

  “Can we take a walk?”

  Jason looked to Rachel.

  “Go ahead,” she said. “I have some things to gather. I’ll see you when we meet up to leave.” She started down a nearby flight of stairs.

  Ferrin led Jason to a high terrace that wrapped around the outside of the temple. They walked beside a waist-high parapet, the jungle spread out below them. Under the direct sunlight, the temperature climbed from uncomfortably warm to hot. The humid smell of vegetation filled Jason’s nostrils. “Seems to be getting hotter every day.”

  “Spring will do that,” Ferrin replied. “Winter is ending.”

  “What’s up?”

  Ferrin winced. “We’re about to go our separate ways.”

  “I know. Part of me never wanted this day to come. It’s been nice to spend some time without death and destruction around every corner.”

  “It’s been there waiting all along. But I know what you mean. Mianamon has provided a welcome season of relief. I’ve enjoyed the chance to observe your nature when you’re not under duress.”

  “That makes me feel like the subject of an experiment.”

  Ferrin shrugged. “If you were, the experiment was a success. You’re a good person, Jason. A true friend.”

  Jason felt unsure how to respond. He had never heard Ferrin give compliments lightly. “Thanks. You are too. You’ll keep an eye on Rachel?”

  “The one I have left,” he said, tapping his eye patch. “Do you realize what awaits you at the Celestine Library?”

  “I’ve heard the basics. Zokar placed a guardian there.”

  “Right. I went over this with Galloran and Farfalee, and I know they’ve spoken with you, but I want to make sure you fully understand. Zokar was obsessed with the torivors. Rightfully so—they’re probably the most powerful beings in Lyrian. He spent years attempting to create a race of similar prowess. The results became known as his Abominations.”

  “And one of them protects the library.”

  “Zokar never felt he had perfected his Abominations. There were three, each unique, each less governable than he desired. He never turned them into races because he feared they would usurp his power. One was a sinister being with an extraordinary gift for invading thoughts and dreams. It was dubbed the Visitor, and Zokar eventually destroyed it. Some historians cite evidence that Zokar was never the same after besting the Visitor, and argue that the confrontation may have permanently disrupted his sanity.”

  “I wish I were an evil wizard,” Jason complained. “They have all the fun.”

  “The second creation was a shape-shifter. It was called the Wanderer. Zokar tried to eliminate it, but the shape-shifter escaped and vanished. None know its fate.”

  “And the third?”

  “It was known as the Maumet. In form it was like a torivor, but considerably larger. The Maumet can transform itself into any material it touches. Zokar successfully imprisoned the Maumet on Windbreak Island.”

  “The same island as the Celestine Library.”

  “Correct. None have entered the library since that time. Many have tried. Eldrin was not one of them.”

  Jason frowned. “But after Eldrin defeated Zokar, didn’t he go on a rampage destroying books?”

  “Good memory,” Ferrin approved. “Eldrin decided to rid Lyrian of wizardry, and sought to destroy all the books that taught Edomic. Of the great storehouses of learning, only the Celestine Library remained untouched. Even the legendary Eldrin chose not to confront the Maumet. What does that tell you?”

  “The Maumet is tough.”

  “It intimidated the most powerful wizard Lyrian has known. It got between him and his mission, and he let it stay there.”

  “He might have figured the Maumet would be able to guard that information forever,” Jason said.

  “All indications have shown that he would have been correct,” Ferrin said. “Maldor has sent several teams to retrieve information from the Celestine Library. None have succeeded. I’ve heard that the only way to harm the Maumet is to chip off pieces. Sort of the opposite of me.” He casually detached one hand at the wrist, flipped it into the air, then caught it on the stump at the end of his forearm. The hand fused seamlessly back into place.

  “So if we chop off an arm, the arm is gone.”

  “Supposedly, the Maumet never regenerates lost material. But this is all speculative. Nobody has ever severed a limb. To my knowledge nobody has ever seriously harmed it.”

  Jason stared out over the steaming jungle. “And we need to find a way.”

  “The oracle tasked Galloran with regaining control of Trensicourt, raising an army, and mounting a direct assault on the emperor’s impenetrable stronghold. If you ask me, Galloran has the easy job.”

  “Rachel seems pretty nervous,” Jason said. “She was worried the oracle might have been wrong.”

  “I don’t think the oracle was wrong.”

  “No?”

  “No. She was authentic. I expect that her prediction was valid. Remember, she wasn’t promising victory. She was looking for any possible route to victory, no matter how faint. I’m sure if you can somehow access the library, there is a chance of finding a way to contact Darian the Seer, even though he is supposed to be dead. Those strong enough in Edomic have found methods to achieve astonishing life spans. And it is conceivable that the famed pyromancer could provide some arcane information that might help an attack on Felrook succeed. I can’t begin to imagine what that information could be. And I doubt that any knowledge could make such a victory likely.”

  “This isn’t sounding good,” Jason said, dread pooling in the pit of his stomach.

  “We asked if, among all the possible futures, there might be a one-in-a-billion chance of turning the tide and dethroning Maldor. I’m sure the oracle found what Galloran sought: a theoretically possible, but highly unlikely, path to victory.”

  Jason rubbed his wrist anxiously. “In other words, we won’t just probably fail—we’ll almost certainly fail. You’re still willing to go along with it?”

  “If Maldor ever apprehends me, my fate is certain. Just like you and Galloran and the Amar Kabal, I’d take a minuscule chance at victory over certain doom. If we fail, I can still try to jump ship and hide in the wilderness for the rest of my life, which is my only other current option.”

  Jason shifted uncomfortably. “You’re warning me that my quest probably ends with the Maumet.”

  “I want you to appreciate what you’re up against. You will have to succeed where multitudes have failed. You’ll have to accomplish something that the mightiest wizard in the history of Lyrian didn’t dare to attempt. You’ve pulled off some shocking upsets in the past, but only a fool would bet on you this time. So I will.” Ferrin detached an ear and held it out to Jason.

  “You’re betting an ear?”

  “I’m betting that not only will you find a way past the Maumet, but that you will locate Darian the Pyromancer and need to offer us crucial information from a great distance. If you perish, I’ll just have to get used to life with one eye and one ear.”

  “Farfalee is bringing messenger eagles,” Jason reminded him.

  “I know, and they will serve as an important redundancy, but nothing beats sure, instantaneous communication.”

  Jason accepted the ear. It represented a great deal of trust. Too much trust, maybe? Could Ferrin have other motives? They had spoken frankly about his allegiance issues on other occasions. “What if you betray us?”

  Ferrin flashed a crooked smile. “The oracle had the same concern.”

  “She d
id?”

  “In our private conversation. She told me that I could be either a vital asset or a crippling traitor. She assured me that Maldor would never accept me, that any treachery would end in my ruin, things I already know. Things she needed me to believe.”

  Jason held up the ear. “This is your attempt to help us?”

  “Part of it,” Ferrin said. “If we mount an attack on Felrook, I have a lot of information that could prove advantageous. Assuming Galloran can muster his army, and you can accomplish your role, I’ll help see this through.”

  “Are you sure?” Jason asked. “Are you really on our side? Totally?”

  Ferrin raised his eyebrows. “It’s possible that you would learn a vital secret, speak it to my ear, and I would take the information straight to Maldor in search of forgiveness. Such an act of betrayal could enable the emperor to counter whatever secret tactic Darian might suggest, even if the messenger eagles still deliver the information to Galloran.”

  Jason resisted an impulse to fling the ear into the jungle. “I know you think like that. Do you have to be so open about it?”

  “Would you prefer I kept those thoughts private?”

  “I wish you’d quit having those thoughts at all. It’s a scary sort of honesty when you openly admit you might betray us.”

  Ferrin lifted his hands apologetically. “I’ve plotted like this my entire life. I like you enough that I try to be candid.”

  “It’s not just that you have those urges. I know you’re capable of carrying them out.”

  Ferrin laughed darkly. “Makes me a lousy teammate. But the oracle indicated that we need to stand together or else none of this will work. Doesn’t that mean you have to rely on me?”

  “I want to count on you. You’ve picked us over Maldor before.”

  Ferrin held up a finger. “Back before I really knew the stakes, I picked you over the chance of upsetting Maldor if I got caught. Then the situation spiraled out of control. But I see what you mean. If I wanted to ruin your cause, I could have already done so.”

  “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 3

  DEPARTURE

  Rachel stood before a full-length mirror in her room. Turning left and right, she supposed her acolyte robe did look kind of like a Halloween costume, but not a cheap one. Made of fine material, the robe felt silky and comfortable, and it gave off a faint shimmer, as if silver threads had been woven into the dark-gray fabric. Light and billowy, the robe stayed surprisingly cool considering how much of her body it covered.

  She shed the fine robe, folded it neatly, and began dressing for her upcoming journey. Though less silky, her Amar Kabal robes were also comfortable. The acolyte robe was great for roaming enclosed hallways, but would prove restrictive for running or riding. The more rugged Amar Kabal robes made much more sense for travel.

  A soft knock made Rachel turn. “Come in.”

  The door to her bedchamber opened, and Ulani entered, wearing a gray acolyte robe accented by a silver mantle, which designated her as the future oracle. Few people made Rachel feel tall, but Ulani was one of them. Short and slight, the woman looked to be about forty, although Rachel knew that her real age was closer to a hundred. A circlet of violet blossoms ringed her head.

  Ulani spoke a brief Edomic phrase. Rachel’s initial reaction was to flinch, but the words were an appeal for Rachel to stay, and carried many subtle nuances. Rachel belonged with them, had a promising future with them. Her departure would wound many hearts and lead her into perilous circumstances. Sometimes Rachel wished that Edomic weren’t quite so expressive.

  “I don’t want to leave,” Rachel apologized in plain English. “I’ve enjoyed studying and training here. You of all people should understand why I have to go.”

  Ulani nodded. “Your departure was ordained by the oracle. She also privately wished for you to return.”

  Rachel paused. “I might.”

  Ulani narrowed her gaze. “I do not foresee it.”

  “Have you . . . looked?”

  “Not pr
ophetically. I would never be able to see beyond the upcoming conflict with Maldor. I simply realize that you yearn for your home more than you aspire to serve with us here.”

  “I don’t really belong to this world,” Rachel apologized. “I know my parents are worried about me. They may have given up hope by now.”

  “For decades I have toiled to develop my talents,” Ulani said. “I was disciplined. The oracle tutored me. And in a few short months you have surpassed all that I accomplished. You have the innate gift. You could become a true prophetess, perhaps greater than Esmira.”

  “That’s too much praise,” Rachel replied. “I was never tested to discover if I could see beyond the present.”

  “Only because Galloran forbade it,” Ulani said. “Not without reason. The test can be fatal. But you display every indication of one who would more than excel. The oracle herself sensed your potential. You’ve already mastered everything else we could teach you.”

  “I’m no master,” Rachel corrected.

  “You’re much better at our disciplines than those of us who have studied them our entire lives,” Ulani insisted. “I think you’re already even more adept than the oracle was.”

  The praise made Rachel blush. “I’m very grateful for all I’ve learned.”

  “It was our privilege to host you.” Ulani lowered her gaze. “I’m very sorry about Kalia. She brought shame upon us all. This should have been a haven for you.”

  “It wasn’t your fault,” Rachel said. “Maldor finds ways to harm whoever he wants, wherever they are.”

  “It was our duty to protect you. Instead, you had to defend yourself against one of our own. It’s inexcusable.”

  “I don’t blame you.” Rachel took Ulani’s hand. “Everything else has been wonderful. These have been the best weeks I’ve spent in Lyrian.”

  Ulani nodded and offered an apologetic smile. “It will be lonely here without you.”

  Rachel knew that Ulani felt trapped. She had nowhere near the raw ability that the previous oracle had possessed. Yet everyone expected her to become the next great prophetess, to guide the children of Certius through the troubled years to come, and to keep the peace among the different factions of treefolk.