Seeds of Rebellion

by Brandon Mull

  “They may complain,” Galloran said. “But given their recent behavior, I would be shocked if they intervened directly. Maldor has lulled your people into a very cautious state.”

  “Mandibar could take two riders if we keep a moderate pace,” Aram said. “So can my horse. Do we send five of us ahead?”

  “Galloran, Tark, Rachel, Corinne, and Jason,” Ferrin said. “If they make it to safety, I don’t expect Maldor will risk provoking the Amar Kabal just to harass the rest of us. He’d have to commit too many resources.”

  “Could we find the right way to go?” Rachel asked. “Seems like Drake, Nedwin, and Ferrin are the people who can navigate these ridges.”

  “Leave me,” Tark panted. “Let Drake take my place. I might be done for anyway.”

  “What do you mean?” Jason said. “You’ve been sounding better lately.”

  “He lacks the breath to cough,” Galloran said. “I’ve been listening to him wheeze. The lungrot is advancing swiftly.”

  Tark climbed down off the horse.

  Galloran lowered his eyebrows when Tark’s feet hit the ground. “I didn’t mean for you to dismount. I just meant that your condition is most serious. You could survive, but if you don’t reach the Amar Kabal soon, the illness will take you. Mount up, Tark. Drake, what are the chances of us beating the horsemen to West Gate if we stay together?”

  “Despite our huge lead, they’re moving very fast on a good road. It could be close. I rigged three orantium traps along the road. That’s what took me so long. When a hoof hits the wrong spot, an orantium globe will send up an unmistakable signal. The explosion might also confuse and slow them, if they think they’re under attack.”

  “There’s a thought,” Ferrin said. “We have plenty of orantium. A pair of us could set up an ambush along the main road and slow them, buy time for the others. If we can find a favorable spot, we might even defeat them.”

  Galloran frowned. “If we stay together, can we beat the horsemen to the mouth of the pass?”

  “To the mouth?” Drake repeated. “Almost certainly. We’re perhaps three hours from the start of the pass. If we exert ourselves, our pursuers couldn’t get there before us. But even hurrying, it will require more than an hour to make it up the pass to the gate. They could very well ride us down in the meanwhile.”

  “Is there a better bottleneck than the pass for an ambush?” Galloran asked.

  Drake shook his head. “West Gate was placed in that pass because the way becomes so narrow.”

  “Let’s race them,” Galloran said. “If it comes to it, the tight confines of the pass should allow an ambush to wreak havoc on them with orantium.”

  Drake folded his arms, his expression brooding. “Once in the pass, there will be no fleeing except through West Gate. If our enemies catch up, or if we’re denied admittance, there will be nowhere to hide.”

  “I am an honorary citizen of the Seven Vales by ceremony,” Galloran said. “If the Amar Kabal look on while I’m slaughtered outside their gates, our cause is already beyond hopeless.”

  “Corinne’s tired,” Rachel blurted.

  “We’ll put her on Mandibar,” Drake said, dismounting. “I have little reason to scout between here and the pass.”

  “This is our final sprint,” Galloran said. “We’ll take turns riding as needed to keep the best possible pace. We’re running for more than our lives. The future of Lyrian depends on our success.”

  The pace did not feel enough like a sprint to Rachel. Then again, an actual sprint over rough terrain for several miles after so much exertion might not have been realistic. Still, they went faster than ever, and before long the pace seemed plenty quick. Rachel eventually rode again for a while, and Jason mounted up behind Tark for a time. Corinne took another turn jogging so that Aram could ride behind Rachel.

  The sun rose higher. Rachel returned to jogging once she felt rested. She had always been in good shape, and roaming the wilderness for weeks on end had her in the best shape of her life. But still she found herself flagging. She tried to draw strength from Nedwin, Drake, Ferrin, and Dorsio, who could apparently press forward forever without respite.

  At length they came into view of the road. Drake led them down a gentle slope until they intersected the wide, dirt lane.

  “I take it there are no orantium traps ahead of us,” Aram said.

  “All are behind,” Drake assured him. “In fact, it’s a favorable sign that the first has not yet exploded.”

  “Could they have missed it?” Jason asked.

  “I rigged each sphere so that a reasonably broad area of road would trigger the detonation. One rider might miss it, but forty will surely spring each of the traps.”

  “On level ground I can walk as fast as any of you,” Galloran said. “Let others take my mount.”

  Tark coughed weakly—a hitching, reedy wheeze, as if his airway were mostly plugged. He rode with his head bowed and his eyes closed. Rachel, Corinne, and Aram rode as well.

  The pass came into view ahead, a deep gorge that wound up into the imposing mountains. On the level road, they made their best time yet. Rachel hoped that after so many miles at high speeds, the horses chasing them would become tired.

  They were not yet to the mouth of the pass when a distant boom reached their ears. Mandibar whickered in response.

  “The first trap,” Drake said. “We have a chance, but it will be close. Ideally, we should quicken our pace, but the grade up the pass will make that easier said than done.”

  “Onward,” urged Galloran, increasing the speed of his shuffling jog.

  They advanced into the shadow of the gorge, steep walls of rock rising to impressive heights on either side. The road steepened. Everyone on foot panted harder.

  Suddenly Galloran stopped and held up a hand. The group halted. He craned his neck, tilting his head from side to side. “I sense a presence.”

  “There,” Drake said, a finger stabbing upward.

  Rachel followed the line on his arm up to a distant silhouette atop one wall of the gorge. Just as her eyes found the figure, it jumped, arms and legs spread wide, and fell hundreds of feet as if fully committed to a suicidal belly flop. An instant before impact, the hurtling lurker changed position, landing in a crouch on the road. Although it seemed to land with tremendous speed, Rachel heard no sound.

  The dark, featureless figure stood upright, spreading its arms. Rachel dimly sensed a command directed at their mounts.

  In unison, the horses reared. Rachel and Corinne slid backward off Aram’s big stallion. Rachel landed hard. Croaking for breath, she lunged for the reins of the horse as it bolted away. She fell short, sprawled in the dirt, one hand inches from getting crushed by a rear hoof.

  Raising her head, Rachel saw Aram clinging to the side of Mandibar’s saddle. Tearing free a bundle of gear, the little man skidded into the dirt, bouncing and rolling, embracing the rescued equipment. Tark had fallen with a foot snagged in a stirrup, and was dragged dozens of yards down the road, spewing a dusty contrail before wrenching his leg free.

  All three riderless horses galloped away down the pass.

  Rachel called out to the horses in Edomic, asking them to return. It was tricky to tell if they even heard her.

  “Whatever happens,” Galloran commanded in his perpetually hoarse voice, “take no aggressive action involving the lurker.” Drawing his beautiful sword, he strode directly toward the dark figure blocking the road, as if he could see it.

  “Servant of evil,” Galloran announced. “Stand your ground and meet your ruin, for I have dispatched others of your kind with this blade.”

  “No,” Jason whispered.

  Sword held ready, Galloran advanced without hesitation. Rachel held her breath. When the lurker was almost within reach, the creature crouched and sprang up against the wall of the gorge, then with another tremendous leap, soared over Galloran to land in a sprint. A dark blur, the figure dashed down the road faster than the horses had run.

&n
bsp; Rachel gaped at the inhuman speed of the lurker. Turning, she saw Jason regarding Galloran with astonishment.

  “How did you do that?” Jason asked.

  “The torivor knew I spoke the truth,” Galloran said, sheathing his sword. “Unarmed, it would have fallen.”

  “But you’re blind,” Jason said.

  “I could feel the mind of the lurker,” Galloran replied. “I knew where it stood. It knew that I knew. Also, it had nothing more to accomplish here. It succeeded in slowing us, and now hastens to urge our pursuers to increase their pace. The complexion of our race has taken an awful turn.”

  “Tark is injured,” Ferrin called, crouching beside the short musician in the road. He had not moved since twisting free of the stirrup.

  “Is he conscious?” Galloran asked.

  “No.”

  Galloran sighed. “Rachel, any chance of calling the horses back?”

  “I’m trying,” she replied.

  “I can try to fetch one,” Nedwin offered.

  Galloran shook his head. “It will cost too much time. Who will carry Tark?”

  “Where is my size when I need it?” Aram lamented. His clothes were torn and filthy from his fall, but he seemed unhurt beyond cuts and scrapes.

  “I’ll carry him,” Drake said, trotting over to him. Ferrin helped Drake situate Tark over his shoulder. Dust billowed from Tark’s cloak. His hair was caked with dirt and blood.

  “Is that your gear?” Ferrin asked Aram.

  “Leave me with it. Give me ten spheres of orantium, and I’ll buy you some time.”

  “Give me the sword,” Ferrin said.

  “I’ll carry the armored shirt,” Nedwin offered.

  Eyes closed, Rachel kept calling the horses. She could envision them clearly. Why wouldn’t they come? Had the lurker struck some primal chord of panic within them? Or maybe the torivor was blocking their return?

  In the distance, she heard another explosion, closer than before.

  “Second trap,” Drake said. “They’re gaining too fast.”

  “Why don’t they get off the road?” Jason asked. “You know, run parallel. How many mines does it take?”

  “Most of the terrain off the road is rugged,” Drake said. “If they leave the road, they won’t catch us.”

  “Are we ready to proceed?” Galloran asked.

  Nedwin draped the ring mail across his shoulders and rubbed his chest absently. “Ready.”

  As they continued up the pass, Rachel kept calling the horses. She repeatedly instructed them to be calm, combined with the request to come to her. The incline of the road soon became torturous to Rachel’s fatigued muscles. She and her companions were basted in sweat. The way twisted and turned, preventing them from seeing far ahead or behind. The weary group shambled forward, failing to go much faster than a brisk walk. Corinne seemed on the brink of collapse. Rachel plodded forward in an exhausted haze, cresting a rise only to find the pass winding onward and upward with no end in sight.

  Hoofs pounded behind them. Rachel felt a brief jolt of panic, but the emotion turned to relief when her mare and Mandibar loped into view. Drake hastily draped Tark over Mandibar’s saddle and had Corinne mount up to stabilize him. Galloran climbed onto the mare, and they hurriedly packed Aram’s gear onto Mandibar.

  With the help of the horses, they managed to pick up the pace. The effects of sleeplessness and relentless exertion were impacting Rachel. Her eyes itched, her legs ached, and her throat felt raw. Jason kept his head down and wore a constant grimace.

  When the third explosion rumbled behind them, Rachel cringed. It sounded nearer than the previous blasts.

  “That one wasn’t far behind where we joined the road,” Drake said. “They’ve ridden hard to close this quickly. The horses may tire.”

  “No,” Galloran warned. “The lurker will be behind them, driving them forward. Only death will slow those steeds.”

  “Then they may beat us to the gate,” Drake said.

  “I can climb the wall of the gorge,” Nedwin said. “I see a position where orantium could provoke a rockslide. And I’ll be out of their reach. I’ll need globes.”

  “Include a gatecrasher with his supply,” Galloran said.

  Dorsio rapidly prepared a knapsack of orantium spheres, including one of the larger globes.

  “There will be negotiations at the gate to gain admittance,” Drake said. “Galloran should ride ahead.”

  “Tark, Rachel, and Corinne will join me,” Galloran decided. “The rest of you make sure you have orantium ready.”

  Nedwin was already heading up the side of the gorge, climbing deftly. Dorsio checked that everyone had some orantium globes.

  “Sit in front of me so you can guide the horse,” Galloran told Rachel.

  “We’re not leaving them to make a last stand?” Rachel checked as she mounted.

  “We’re trying to get everyone to safety,” Galloran said. “But they need to be prepared for the worst contingencies.”

  The horses sped up. Rachel encouraged them with Edomic. Drake had ridden Mandibar hard earlier, and even though the mare had not traveled quickly, she had covered rough terrain nonstop all night and for part of a day. And who knew how hard the horses had run to make it around the Sunken Lands? Even so, both horses managed a loping gait that swiftly took Rachel beyond view of her friends.

  The way steepened, twisting ever higher into the mountains. Rachel tried not to think of Jason and the others having to cover all of the same ground on foot with a cavalry in pursuit.

  They rounded a bend, and an enormous fortification finally came into view at the top of the pass, spanning the gorge like a dam. A raised drawbridge made the imposing wall even less inviting.

  As they rode forward, further details became apparent. Soldiers could be seen among the battlements atop the gate. A pair of maroon banners, emblazoned with golden peaks, hung from the top of the massive granite wall. Scores of holes lined the sides of the pass above the gate. Rachel glimpsed faces peering from some of the holes and concluded that the apertures allowed defenders to fire arrows from tunnels in the mountainside.

  Rachel slowed her mare as they reached the base of the wall. Corinne drew up beside her. It had to be more than fifty feet high, and in front of the base ran a deep trench with spikes bristling along the bottom.

  “Are we near enough to address the gate wardens?” Galloran asked.

  “If you shout,” Rachel guessed.

  Galloran dismounted and raised his voice. “Hail, children of Eldrin! Could one of you fetch your captain?”

  “I am Halak, High Captain of West Gate,” a tall figure answered from above. “We have not been ignorant of your approach, traveler. Why have you brought bloodshed to our doorstep when we make it no secret that this gate is sealed to outsiders?”

  “Will it not open for an honorary kinsman?”

  “Who am I addressing?”

  “I am Galloran, heir to the throne of Trensicourt and sworn ally of the Amar Kabal.”

  The captain paused. “If you speak truth, what errand brings you to the borders of our land unannounced?”

  “If I speak truth?” Galloran repeated incredulously. He tore the rag from his eyes, revealing his scarred sockets. “I once frequented these vales. The years have not been generous, and I now wear a beard, but does no man upon the wall recognize my face?”

  “My apologies,” Halak answered. “Why do you seek entry into our land?”

  “By ceremony, I am a friend of the Amar Kabal. I wish to invoke my right to bring a proposal before the Conclave.”

  “So you are not seeking passage through this gate to evade imperial pursuit?”

  “The riders who pursue us are a consequence of my visit, not the motivation. We set out from Fortaim many days ago with this destination in mind.”

  “Regardless of your intent, given the circumstances, admitting you could jeopardize our tenuous relations with Felrook.”

  Galloran replaced his blindfold.
“Dozens of imperial soldiers have invaded the neutral territory between your gate and the Sunken Lands to hunt my companions and me. The emperor is in open violation of your treaty already. His horsemen are chasing us up the gorge. Given the opportunity, they will cut us down outside your very gates.”

  “We’re aware of their movements,” Halak replied carefully.

  “We come bearing a tribute of more than fifty orantium spheres, including two of the large globes known as gatecrashers. I imagine you would not relish the idea of these explosives falling into enemy hands.”

  “A bribe and a threat in the same breath. Which should I heed?”

  “Neither. I am conversant with your laws. Until my friendship status is revoked, it remains my right to pass through this gate at will. My status can only be revoked by a majority decision of the Conclave, at a hearing where I am afforded the opportunity to speak in my defense.”

  “I cannot refute your claim. But your privileged status does not extend to your comrades.”

  “I can vouch for each of my nine companions. When I last visited your realm, my word would have been more than sufficient to secure a welcome. I recognize that times are changing. I do not visit to abuse my privileges. I do not seek prolonged sanctuary for myself or my companions. Grant us admittance for a week, so I can bring vital information before your Conclave. Complain to Felrook that I invoked my legal rights, according to your laws. We will voluntarily depart after I conduct my affairs with your elders. If your leaders so choose, you can turn us over to the minions of the emperor at that time. No harm will befall your delicate treaty.”

  “Who are your companions? I only count three.”

  “This is Tark, former musician with the Giddy Nine, who requires urgent treatment for lungrot and who recently returned the seed of Jasher to the guards at East Gate. Forgive his unconsciousness. He rides with my daughter, Corinne. And we’re also joined by a Beyonder named Rachel, a promising Edomic adept.”

  “And the others?”

  “Only two of our horses remain with us. The rest of my comrades straggle behind us on foot. My bodyguard, Dorsio, is not present; nor is my assistant, Nedwin, formerly of the House of Geer; nor is Ferrin, my chief scout. We also travel with Aram, a smuggler from Ithilum; Lord Jason of Caberton, a Beyonder who has joined the fight against Maldor; and Drake of the Amar Kabal.”