Seeds of Rebellion

by Brandon Mull

  “Unbelievable,” Ferrin murmured.

  “Do you think he’ll help you again?” Rachel asked.

  “Possibly,” Galloran said. “If I came to him alone and blind, he might view me as a failure who had squandered his previous gift. But we have two advantages. First, Rachel, I will present you as an adept with the potential to rival Maldor. Your native talent should intrigue and impress Orruck. And second, we carry with us the secret of Orruck’s unmaking.”

  “The Word,” Jason realized.

  Galloran dipped his chin. “We may not possess the key word designed to undo Maldor. But Maldor informed Jason that he had used a true key word as bait for the false quest, in hopes that an actual key word would better withstand careful scrutiny. He used the word crafted to destroy Orruck. As soon as Jason relayed that secret, I knew we had to pursue the orantium hoard.”

  “Maldor could have lied,” Ferrin pointed out.

  “I do not believe that Maldor or anyone else suspects that Orruck survives. After years of listening, I have heard no hint of such a rumor. Still, we can’t rule out the possibility that Maldor had less fathomable reasons to lie about the origin of the Word. Nor can we ignore the chance that Orruck has been so thoroughly transformed that the Word will no longer touch him.”

  “You may not need to actually use the Word,” Aram said. “The threat might suffice. A bluff with some teeth behind it.”

  “Uttering the Word would be a last resort,” Galloran agreed.

  “Who will join you?” Ferrin asked.

  “Rachel, do you recall the Word?” Galloran asked.

  “Yes.”

  Galloran adjusted the fabric over his face. “After the influence of Nedwin’s memory enhancer, I recall it as well. I shared it with him, syllable by syllable, while under the spell of the venom.”

  “Do we really need to show Rachel’s abilities to Orruck?” Jason asked. “Can’t we just use the Word as leverage?”

  “Wizards cannot resist respecting her kind of talent,” Galloran answered. “Not only is her innate Edomic aptitude rare and precious, it reflects the abilities Orruck most admired about himself. Her Edomic skill will add legitimacy to our cause in his eyes. It could help us secure what we need without having to test the efficacy of the Word.”

  “I’ll go,” Rachel said.

  “I don’t like it,” Jason replied. “Just tell me the syllables. I’ll go hit him with the Word.”

  “It might not work,” Rachel countered. “I know you’re just being protective, but it doesn’t make sense here. If the Word fails, you die and we lose the globes. This orantium might make a huge difference for the rebellion. The safest bet is for me and Galloran to go.”

  “We’ll bring Dorsio,” Galloran said. “The rest of you should wait here in the skiff. Dorsio has some globes. If we fail, we’ll make sure to detonate some orantium as a signal. If you hear an explosion, get away from here.”

  “Not that I lack confidence in the outcome,” Ferrin said, “but would you consider entrusting the piece of my neck to somebody who is not about to confront one of the most deadly beings in the world?”

  “Fair enough,” Galloran said. “Dorsio, please lend the fragment to Jason.”

  After the chunk of flesh changed hands, Ferrin and Tark came aboard the skiff while Galloran, Dorsio, and Rachel moved to the canoe. She and Dorsio used the paddles to propel the canoe beyond the towers. Galloran raised a hand in farewell. “If we do not return by nightfall, we will not return.”

  Rachel glanced back at Jason. He looked worried. She understood how he must feel. He had risked everything to come protect her, and now she was heading into danger, leaving him behind. She tried to concentrate on paddling. Only a few sparse trees projected from the water up ahead. There were plentiful lily pads the size of tabletops, many supporting basket-shaped fungi. For the first time since entering the swamp, branches were not constantly interlaced overhead. Even screened by the hazy atmosphere, it was nice to be under sunlight. “How do we know where to go?” she asked.

  “The water is deep in this part of the city,” Galloran said. “We’ll cross the empty parts and watch for a round tower, the top of a graven obelisk, or the head of a tremendous statue.”

  “What happened here?” Rachel asked. “Who would build a city in a swamp?”

  “These lands were not always sunken,” Galloran said. “Darvis Kur was once the oldest continually inhabited city in all of Lyrian. And arguably the most splendid. Many wizards made their homes here. The great wizards of Darvis Kur belonged to an order called the Custodians of the Mended Chain. They incurred the wrath of a rival order known as the Twenty Magi.

  “The Twenty Magi attacked Darvis Kur, and the battle went poorly for the Custodians. They sought help from a wizard hermit known as Pothan the Slow. He seldom came into Darvis Kur, preferring the solitude of the surrounding wilderness. He was described as large and bald and somewhat misshapen, slow of speech and odd of manner. But when the Custodians of the Mended Chain begged him to help save their city, he answered the call.

  “Eldrin and Zokar are considered the greatest masters of Edomic. But perhaps no wizard in history could rival Pothan the Slow when it came to sheer power. By the might of his Edomic, Pothan singlehandedly crushed the Twenty Magi. None survived to carry the order forward. The tale tells that they were swallowed by the earth.

  “The Custodians were frightened when they discovered just how much power this peculiar wanderer wielded. After his impressive victory, they invited him to become an honorary member of their order, and then tried to poison him.”

  “How awful!” Rachel said. “After he saved them.”

  “How foolish,” Galloran said. “They succeeded in poisoning him, but not in slaying him. Furious after the betrayal, Pothan sank this entire region, forcing it downward by the devastating might of his Edomic, while raising hills and mountains round about. Surrounding lakes and rivers drained into this realm in an unprecedented flood. The monumental effort cost Pothan his life and created the Sunken Lands. Tens of thousands perished.”

  “Wow,” Rachel said. “What a story.”

  “Interestingly, the wizard Orruck was a young member of the Custodians of the Mended Chain at the time, one of the few to survive. Centuries later, Zokar chose to make his boyhood home into his nightmare prison.”

  Rachel and Dorsio piloted the boat around a stone spire jutting up from the water. A few grimy patches of gold suggested it once was gilded. The slime on the stonework glistened more than the precious metal.

  “Is Orruck still a person?”

  “He looks nothing like a man. His mutation left him speechless, and his mind has grown clouded. With each passing year, he becomes less human. When I last saw him, he retained enough self-possession to hold a mental conversation … and to crave vengeance against a former rival.”

  “Do you think he’ll still be human enough to communicate?” Rachel asked.

  “He has existed in this state for centuries,” Galloran said. “It has hardly been twenty years since I met him. Barring dreadful luck, Orruck should be in a similar state to when I last encountered him.”

  Dorsio pointed diagonally.

  Following the line he had indicated, Rachel saw the merlons of an ancient wall protruding from the water, like broken teeth. Behind the partially exposed battlements rose a rounded tower scaled with lichen, empty windows and loopholes offering glimpses of the darkness inside.

  Rachel described the tower.

  “Bear to the left,” Galloran said. “We are nearing our destination.”

  “Why does Orruck hold a grudge against Maldor?” Rachel mused. “It was Zokar who did this to him.”

  “The apprentices of Zokar each desired to replace him one day,” Galloran said. “Only one could have survived to do so. Orruck and Maldor would have slighted and betrayed each other whenever possible over the years. Zokar is no more. But Orruck has never forgotten his rivalry with Maldor. Hateful emotions consume him as he
patrols the Drowned City, unable to exact revenge on his old adversaries, incapable of wielding the Edomic power he once controlled. As long as he believes he can use us to harm Maldor, we stand a good chance of winning his aid.”

  Across a broad span of water, a marble head rose above the surface of the swamp. Part of one nostril had broken away, deep cracks diverged across the chin, and one ear was netted with webs, but the imperfections could not disguise the artistic quality of the regal countenance. Some distance from the enormous head, a stone fist broke the surface of the water, positioned as if it had once gripped a weapon.

  “We found the big statue,” Rachel said.

  “Which way is it facing?”

  “Toward us, more or less.”

  “Proceed in the direction opposite the way the figure is facing, and before long you will behold our destination.”

  “There are a bunch of trees that way.”

  “Good. The swamp is less deep around the shrine.”

  Leaving behind the misty rays of the afternoon sun, Rachel and Dorsio guided the boat under the shadow of tall trees bulging with fungal growths. Only the paddles lapping against the murky water disturbed the silence. There was no peace in the quietness, Rachel thought. Only tension.

  Carved pillars and stone roofs began to protrude from the water in abundance. Through the trees and man-made obstacles, Rachel glimpsed the elaborate stonework of an immense structure. More details became apparent as the canoe drew nearer. Crowned by six spiraling steeples, the walls of the edifice were ornamented with crumbling stone tracery. Weatherworn stringcourses underscored rows of narrow lancet windows. Leering gargoyles clung to the building like huge stone geckos. The overall impression was that of a partially submerged cathedral.

  A yawning hole in one wall allowed water into the structure. The opening was irregular, as if created by brute force.

  “It’s gigantic,” Rachel said. “I see a big hole in the wall.”

  “Take us inside,” Galloran instructed. “Orruck awaits.”

  “How do you know he’ll be here?” Rachel asked, running a hand across the goose bumps on her arm.

  “Like most predators in the Sunken Lands, Orruck is nocturnal,” Galloran whispered. “This is his lair. He has excavated extensive tunnels in the bedrock beneath the shrine. During the day, he’ll be here.”

  Rachel and Dorsio stroked toward the opening in the wall, a lopsided arch of broken stone wide enough for several canoes to enter at once. Senses alert, Rachel helped paddle through the uneven gap.

  The interior of the shrine contained a single vast chamber. Haze-softened sunlight slanted through the western windows, repeating elongated versions of the window shapes on the surface of the foul water. Deteriorating galleries and balconies projected from the walls, sufficient to hold hundreds of onlookers. Craning her neck, Rachel gazed up at the vaulted ceiling, absorbing the intricate details of the cracked, faded frescoes. She wondered how deep the water was in here. Including the underwater floor space, this cavernous room must have held thousands, which made the silent emptiness all the more disquieting.

  In a corner of the room obscured by shadow, on a jumbled island of stone slabs, a flicker of movement summoned Rachel’s attention. Turning to study the haphazard pile of rubble, she clumsily thumped her paddle against the side of the canoe.

  “See something?” Galloran guessed.

  “A movement in the corner of the room.”

  “Take us in that direction.”

  While Rachel and Dorsio paddled, Galloran stood and cried out in his raspy voice, speaking Edomic. On the island, a bulky form shifted when Galloran commenced speaking. Though the individual words were unfamiliar, Rachel intuited that Galloran was offering a humble greeting and describing peaceful intentions.

  As they drew closer, Rachel observed that the creature Galloran was addressing looked something like a huge walrus, minus the tusks. The corpulent beast reclined on a long slab, fat tail in the water. The creature was about twenty feet long, not counting however much of the tail was hidden by the water. Given the size of the lair, she had expected Orruck to be bigger. Still, it was bizarre to think that the bloated, blubbery creature had once been human. Shifting again, the creature emitted a deep, wet sound, like a cross between a sneeze and a dozen bass fiddles.

  “I have returned, Great One,” Galloran said, reverting to English.

  Rachel heard no reply, but Galloran nodded as if listening.

  “I have lost my sight,” he said. “I brought two companions: my bodyguard, Dorsio, and a Beyonder called Rachel, the most promising Edomic adept Lyrian has seen in many years.”

  The creature raised itself off the slab, the bulky body supported entirely by the tail as it moved across the water toward the canoe. “Orruck wishes to commune with you,” Galloran said to Rachel. “If any being can awaken your mind to telepathy, he can. See if you can sense his words.”

  Rachel closed her eyes, concentrating. Nothing touched her awareness. “Is it like I hear something?” she asked. “Or maybe just feelings?”

  “Think of how you force matter to obey Edomic commands,” Galloran suggested. “Try to listen with similar effort.”

  She exerted herself, and suddenly words filled her mind, as clearly as if she had heard them. Most who show real Edomic promise can commune mind to mind. She knew the words had come from Orruck.

  The girl only awakened to her abilities scant weeks ago, Galloran replied. She has come a long way over a short time.

  A little farther now, Rachel added mentally.

  Very good, Orruck responded. This is your first experience speaking in silence?

  Yes.

  You only began speaking Edomic recently?

  I’ve only really been practicing for a couple of months.

  I can feel the validity of your words, Orruck conveyed. I would appreciate a demonstration of your abilities. But first, Galloran, have you held to your end of our bargain?

  Rachel opened her eyes. The deformed body hovered in front of the canoe, still supported by the tail. Rachel counted at least eight murky eyes spaced around the body, along with several breathing slits. She couldn’t identify a mouth.

  Galloran replied soundlessly. Alas, I have not yet disposed of Maldor, though I have been a thorn in his palm. The orantium you entrusted to me has been used exclusively to harm his interests. You will recall that when last we met, my hopes resided in a key word I hoped to recover. In the years since, with the aid of another Beyonder, I have learned that the Word was a fraud.

  The creature reared up and bellowed. The entire brown body spread open, not up and down, but side to side, revealing a tremendous mouth fringed with rows of daggerlike teeth. Rachel finally recognized that what she had mistaken for the body was merely the head. What she had taken for the tail was the neck. The impossibly deep roar seemed to proceed from multiple voice boxes bellowing at different pitches. The exhalation carried a humid stench of decay, and the noise reverberated throughout the cavernous chamber.

  Why have you returned? Orruck accused forcefully.

  Subterfuge has failed. Open warfare is the remaining option. Maldor increases in power every day. I have come to solicit aid in a final attempt to thwart his schemes. I intend to unite the remaining free peoples of Lyrian in a last stand against his tyranny. This strategy represents our final chance to prevent an uncontested reign such as Lyrian has never witnessed. I do not see how we can succeed without more orantium. Mighty Orruck, will you grant me enough orantium to wage war against your enemy?

  Orruck raised his obese head toward the ceiling, horizontal jaws gaping, and let out another bellow, more terrible than the first. Telepathic words hit almost like physical blows. Why should I trust you to succeed? The original gift should have sufficed! I have no desire to sponsor a losing cause!

  Galloran held up a hand. My former strategy was flawed. This new plan is sound. Plus, we now have an Edomic adept on our side. Her powers will only grow.

  If I l
et her live! Orruck expressed sharply. Show me your ability, Rachel. Turn my rock walls to steel. Take on a new form. Call forth lightning.

  I only know a few phrases, Rachel apologized. I can summon heat. I can push objects. I can make suggestions to animals.

  No doubt Maldor trembles with fear, Orruck conveyed scornfully. Protect yourself. The blubbery head disappeared under the water with a splash.

  “Get ready to push,” Galloran murmured.

  Before the ripples of the splash reached the island of slabs in the corner of the room, the head surfaced there and gripped a tombstone-size rock in its jaws. Tossing his head, Orruck flung the slab toward the canoe. Rachel shouted in Edomic and willed the projectile sideways. The slab did not change course dramatically, but she altered the trajectory enough that it missed the canoe by several yards.

  Orruck hurled another slab. And another. Rachel shoved one down to make it fall a little short, then pushed up on the next so it went long. The fourth slab Orruck seized was the size of a mattress and required real effort for him to fling it. Rachel pushed it sideways with everything she had, and the hefty slab barely missed the canoe, drenching the occupants with the splash.

  Impressive, for one so new to her power, Orruck conceded.

  Galloran patted her on the arm.

  I’m eager to improve, Rachel sent.

  Very well, Orruck replied. Try a simple transmutation. Edomic words reached her mind. She understood that they ordered stone to change into glass. Orruck gripped a slab in his jaws no larger than a dinner tray.

  Rachel focused on the slab, mustered her will, and demanded that the stone transform. The slab took on a slicker sheen and a smokier color. Whipping his head sideways, Orruck hurled the slab into a wall, where it shattered.

  Excellent, Orruck enthused. You are curious why I cannot use Edomic if I can speak in silence and I still know the proper words.

  Rachel had not deliberately transmitted the question, but the thought had crossed her mind.

  An ingenious physiological modification wrought by Zokar, he shared. My will can’t focus in the manner necessary to issue Edomic mandates. If I try, I experience tremendous pain, together with a host of other distracting sensations. I have managed to work around the obstacle enough to preserve my identity, but even the simplest Edomic commands have become impossible to execute. Show me the spell you will use to jolt Maldor. Once again he shared an Edomic command.