by Brandon Mull
“It isn’t just the seedmen,” Ferrin said without evident resentment. “The rest of you don’t trust me to varying degrees. I don’t expect Nedwin or Tark would put a hand out to steady me if I teetered on a brink. Drake and Aram could take me or leave me. Corinne is too innocent to know better. And of course you and Rachel are nursing old wounds. I’m accustomed to this kind of atmosphere. Right now it’s time for me to lie low. If I appear happy or helpful, it will only cause irritation and heighten the tension. An unwelcome guest should avoid flaunting his presence.”
“I’m trusting you more and more,” Jason said, feeling bad for him.
“Which feels much stranger than suspicion,” Ferrin said. “When you were new to Lyrian, before you knew anything about displacers, I could rationalize your acceptance as ignorance. I’ve never had a true friend, Jason. I’ve used others. I’ve been used. But a principled person has never knowingly accepted me. When Galloran stood up for me in front of the Conclave? When he vouched for me? That was a new experience. I almost stood and objected.”
“Why?” Jason said. “Was he wrong?”
Ferrin compressed his lips. “I want him to be right,” he finally said. “Displacers are raised to spy for Maldor. I was taught to scheme since the cradle. I’ve always had a knack for it. I can’t stop noticing how I might take advantage of information. How I might exploit relationships. Among displacers, I took pride in having more honor than most. I often passed up unwholesome opportunities. But next to integrity like I’ve seen in you and Galloran, I’m entirely unworthy.”
“People can change,” Jason said.
“I’m trying, Jason. But don’t you see? About as honest as I can get is confessing how dishonest I instinctively want to be!”
“That’s a start,” Jason said. He regarded Ferrin soberly. “What do you feel tempted to do?”
Ferrin stared at the floor. “Part of me muses how difficult it would be for the seedmen to pass judgment on me and my people if they were extinct. Part of me wants to exploit a million flaws I’ve noticed in their attitudes and defenses. Part of me wants to show you and Galloran that you were fools to trust me, that I don’t need your sympathy or protection. Part of me wants that piece of my neck back from Nedwin.”
Jason didn’t like where this was heading. Had he worried that Ferrin might somehow betray them? Sure. But it was different to hear those words from his lips. Then again, he was just trying to be honest, right?
“You don’t know how to respond,” Ferrin said. “I’ll make it easy. The safest course of action for your young rebellion would be to toss me off the tallest cliff you can find. I have played a perilous game for years—trading secrets, telling lies, finding leverage, earning trust only to betray it. I got away with an eccentric lifestyle among Maldor’s elite by hiding much of what I learned and proving myself too valuable to kill. It was a precarious, unforgiving game. When I released you from Felrook, I miscalculated, and I lost. Game over. Bridges burned. But the game is part of my nature. I don’t think I can stop playing until I stop breathing.”
“You want us to kill you?” Jason said, unconvinced.
Ferrin snickered miserably. “I don’t know. Part of me suspects you’d never do that. Part of me thinks my candor will only make you trust me more. Maybe part of me is nobly trying to warn you. Maybe part of me doesn’t care anymore. I’m an actor. I’ve pretended to be too many things to too many people. Cut free from Maldor, having betrayed the only cause I had always upheld, I’m not sure I have an identity.”
“Start fresh,” Jason urged. “Be true to this. Play your games for us.”
Ferrin sighed. “I never chose this cause. Not really. I didn’t walk away from Maldor as a matter of principle. I made a mistake and ran away. Am I so inconstant that I then become unswervingly loyal to his enemies?”
“Why were you loyal to him?” Jason asked.
“Partly out of tradition,” Ferrin said. “I’m a displacer. All displacers are loyal to Maldor. Mostly for security. He’s going to win. Displacers know what happens to the losing side. I was loyal to the future undisputed emperor of all Lyrian.”
“What if we can win?” Jason said. “What if the oracle sees a way that Maldor can lose?”
“Oracles see thousands of possible futures,” Ferrin said. “Maybe millions. Maybe more. Out of the countless possible futures, is there one where Maldor fails? Probably. Even if this oracle predicts possible victory for a rebellion, I’m willing to wager she’ll see many, many more futures where we get crushed. Besides, if that oracle lays eyes on me, she’ll probably order me slain on sight.”
“Why?” Jason asked.
Ferrin met his gaze. “Because who knows how many of those futures where the rebellion gets crushed will begin with an act of betrayal by me?”
Jason had no words. Ferrin didn’t help him. “Should you ask to be imprisoned?”
“What do you think?” Ferrin asked.
“I already told you. I think you should start fresh. I think you should call your old life over. This is a better cause. You said you never had real friends. You’re on your way now. I’m one of them. Let that be enough.”
Ferrin flicked a piece of fruit into his mouth with his thumb. “I don’t know. I think if you lie long enough, often enough, you become a lie. Strip away my pretenses and deceptions, and I’m not sure there’d be anything left.”
“You won’t fix that problem with more lies,” Jason said. “Not by lying to yourself. Not by lying to us. If you’re true to this cause, you’ll have something left when you strip away the rest—this cause and these friendships.”
“You don’t get it,” Ferrin said. “No matter how hard I try, there’s a cynical corner of my mind where everything is an act. People are game pieces. Information is currency. At the same time I portray myself as a rebel displacer loyal to a new cause, I secretly feel like a deeply placed spy worming his way deeper all the time. I’ve mustered sincerity before. I’ve almost believed it. I’m an expert at almost believing my lies. How is this different? How can it be?”
“Because we know what you are and we’re still giving you a chance.”
Ferrin bowed his head. He reached one hand up the sleeve of his robe and withdrew a chunk of flesh.
“What’s that?” Jason asked.
“Part of my brachial artery,” Ferrin said. “Take it. Consider it an extra fail-safe. I’ve spent my life backstabbing anyone foolish enough to trust me. Now I’m betraying the one master I’ve always served. And I’m betraying my people. But I’ll try to be true to this rebellion. For the sake of friendship. It’s a better reason than I’ve had before.”
Jason accepted it with a nod.
Footsteps approached. Drake poked his head into the storeroom. “We’re getting ready to move out. Is that dried fruit?”
“They have mountains of it,” Ferrin said.
“Bring me a handful,” Drake said. He looked back and forth between Jason and Ferrin. “Everything all right?”
“Just peachy,” Jason said.
Crossing the three ropes over the chasm was no fun. They jiggled and swayed far more than Jason preferred, and it seemed impossible to avoid looking down at the seemingly infinite fall awaiting him.
Drake explained that these makeshift bridges were easily destroyed, leaving the trail virtually impassable if even lightly defended. The delegation traversed several more of them as the trail zigzagged northeast toward the unseen tundra.
By the twelfth day of the trek, still surrounded by colossal crags and escarpments, Jason began to notice the wind keening ominously in the distance. “We might have some bad weather coming,” he commented to Farfalee as they gathered around a campfire below a sheltering overhang.
“Not necessarily,” she replied. “You hear Howling Notch. We’ll get there tomorrow.”
“That’s where the fun really begins,” Drake said, munching on a strip of dried meat.
“What’s Howling Notch?” Rachel asked.
&nb
sp; “An unnatural anomaly,” Drake said.
“The terrain north of Howling Notch funnels high winds through a narrow gap,” Farfalee explained.
Drake prodded the fire with a stick. “The wind is constant and fierce, yet the terrain never changes, the gap never erodes.”
“A secretive wizard once made his home in the vicinity,” Farfalee added. “He built his stronghold into the living rock, shaping it with Edomic. Many believe the terrain around Howling Notch is under some lingering enchantment.”
“I’ve been through the notch a time or three,” Kerick said, stepping up to the fire. “It’s demanding, but if you keep your head, it can be done.”
The prospect of high winds and steep cliffs made Jason recall a certain nightmare with a torivor involved. “Can we blow off an edge?”
Kerick chuckled knowingly. “It’s the deadliest stretch of this trail. In stormy weather, no living thing could drag itself through that gap. We’re later in the year than I’d prefer, but the summer weather keeps holding. If you hold tight to the line and follow instructions, we should get you through.”
The next morning the wailing wind grew progressively louder. The tempestuous howls seemed incongruent with the blue sky and wispy clouds overhead.
“You’d think we were hiking into a hurricane,” Rachel said from behind Jason.
“It’s weird,” he replied. “I’ve hardly felt a breeze all morning.”
Walking in front of Jason, Drake glanced back. “The same terrain that funnels the gusts through Howling Notch mostly shields the approach. You’ll see it just up around this bend.”
When Howling Notch came into view, Jason stopped walking. Still some distance ahead, a high saddle of rock connected a pair of towering escarpments. A steep, V-shaped gap split the saddle.
“It’s so loud even from here!” Rachel said. Jason could hardly make out her words.
The trail approaching the notch was a narrow ledge chiseled into the mountainside. Jason had begun adapting to the constant threat of falling a thousand feet to his death, but this scant trail was the narrowest they had encountered. No matter how carefully he positioned himself, his feet were never more than six inches from the edge.
Fortunately, a rope ran along the wall of the ledge, staked in place. Without something to hold, Jason wondered if he could have forced himself to proceed. Even with the rope, he tried to focus on Drake’s back and ignore the dizzying drop. The wind roared constantly, occasionally falling to a moan or rising to a piercing shriek so intense that Jason could hardly believe he still felt no significant stirring of the air.
The closer they got to Howling Notch, the less Jason could see of it. The trail climbed diagonally from below and to one side. At last the narrow ledge widened into a semicircular shelf spacious enough for the entire group to assemble. Farfalee shouted to be heard over the deafening gale.
“We’ll cross through the notch in two groups of five and one of four. Kerick will lead the first group, Halco the next, and Andrus the last. Listen carefully to their instructions.” Kerick and Halco each tapped four other members of the delegation. Andrus claimed the remainders. Jason ended up in Halco’s group, along with Delissa, Nedwin, and Aram. They huddled together apart from the others.
Halco had spent most of his time away from the delegation, scouting and hunting. Jason had never really conversed with him.
“Three rules,” Halco said. “First, hold on to the line. The line will guide us through. Always have a firm grip with at least one hand. You never know when the wind will surge. Second, stay low. If the wind grabs you, it will be a very long time before you hit the ground. It can happen very suddenly. We move through the notch hugging the ground—slithering, not crawling. We don’t want to present anything for the wind to seize. Third, move when I move, pause when I pause. We won’t be able to hear one another. If somebody gets torn from the line, you can’t help them. Raise your head, reach for them, rise up even a little, and you’ll join them. Any questions?”
“Can we do this after the sun goes down?” Aram asked.
Halco shook his head. “Your smaller size will probably serve you better than greater strength. Less surface area. Nobody outmuscles the wind in Howling Notch. Besides, the wind tends to blow harder after dusk. Anything else?”
“What order?” Nedwin asked.
“I’ll lead, then Jason, you, Aram, and Delissa. Once we’re through the notch, the line will guide us to a trench. Only by keeping low in the trench will we be able to descend the far side.” He held up little cylinders of cork. “We’ll all want these for our ears.”
Jason accepted a pair of earplugs and inserted them. Rachel was part of the first group, led by Kerick. After adjusting his pack and his robes, Kerick guided his group beyond the sheltered shelf and out of sight. Jason and the others sat down to wait.
Even with the earplugs, the wind remained plenty noisy. Jason listened to it rise and fall, imagining how it must be whipping at Rachel. Tense with anticipation, it was hard for him to tell whether time was passing slowly or quickly. He could have waited on the shelf all day without growing bored.
Off to one side, Corinne put a hand on Farfalee’s shoulder and spoke to her. Farfalee made a motion to Halco, who stood and gestured for his group to rise.
Corinne came over to Jason, and he pulled out an earplug. “The first group made it,” she reported. “Rachel says it’s worse than we could guess.”
“Comforting,” Jason replied. “See you on the other side.” He replaced his earplug and got into position behind Halco. The seedman led him away from the shelf along a narrow ledge.
They progressed another couple of hundred yards, sheltered from the wind by the wall of rock beside the trail. The wall shrank until it finally ended. Just beyond the end of the wall, a guideline was staked into the gray rock of the ground, proceeding up to the notch.
Halco looked back at the others, holding up his forefinger. The wind screamed unnervingly. Finally, the howl diminished to a strong moan. Flat on his belly, Halco took hold of the line and wormed beyond the sheltering barricade.
Jason followed. Even at a low moan, he could not believe how forcefully the wind washed over him. Air had never felt so tangible. If he had tried to stand, no amount of strength could have kept his hands on the guideline. It felt like he was trying to drag himself upstream through a raging river.
The ground rose at an incline to the notch, overlapping sheets of stone textured by grooves, lumps, and other irregularities. Pulling himself over the sharp-edged terrain was uncomfortable, but Jason figured the jagged unevenness might serve to help disrupt the wind a little if he stayed low. Twenty yards behind him, the incline ended at the brink of a lofty precipice. The cold air smelled like iron, stone, and snow.
The moan rose to a roar. The wind slicing by overhead seemed to have weight, pressing him down. If he raised a finger, he could picture the slipstream tearing it off.
Jason kept moving forward hand over hand. Even below the worst of the wind, and with Halco in front of him bearing the brunt of the gale, it took all of his strength and concentration. Keeping his eyes down, Jason tried to press himself into the mountain.
The wind gusted to an earsplitting shriek, and his head bumped against Halco’s moccasins. Jason halted, clinging to the line. The shriek remained steady until long after an opera singer would have passed out. As the scream diminished to a roar, Jason glimpsed Halco squirming forward again.
Foot by foot, inch by inch, Jason gained ground. At intervals he passed the stakes that kept the guideline anchored. He expected he would have bruises all over tomorrow, not from impact, but from merciless pressure on various points of his anatomy, especially his elbows.
Finally they reached the front of the notch. Halco paused. The wind roared like never before. Without earplugs the volume might have done permanent damage. The muscles in Jason’s hands and arms burned with exertion. After what felt like forever, the wind ebbed a little, and Halco scrambled hastily forw
ard.
The narrow notch ran straight for about ten yards before it started to widen. Jason felt relief as he slithered across the highest point of the saddle, the ground scraping his face as he tried to keep low. Descending the far side, he peeked ahead at where the guideline vanished into a trench. Twenty more yards.
He heard the wind increase in force before he felt it. Halco froze, flattening himself. The wind rose to a shriek, then to a penetrating whine, like a jet engine. Jason gripped the rope with all of his might. He could feel the guideline shuddering. No matter how low he remained, the blasting air seemed on the verge of taking hold of him. Several times his rope jerked so hard that part of his body left the ground slightly before slamming back down. These new bruises would be from impact. The wind was unbelievable. This was how it would feel to water-ski behind a missile. How fast was the wind going? It had to be hundreds of miles per hour.
Jason glimpsed Halco, still flat, gazing backward, eyes wide. Turning his head slightly, keeping his cheek to the ground, Jason looked back as well. Nedwin clung to the rope behind him, head down. Then Aram. Delissa trailed them, just coming over the highest part of the saddle. Her body looked like a flag in a tornado. Suddenly Jason understood why the rope had twitched so much.
As Jason watched, the relentless wind gusted even harder, and she lost her grip. It looked like Delissa had been shot from a cannon. Her body clipped the side of the notch, setting her spinning as the gale rocketed her away. Despite the low angle of Jason’s viewpoint, she stayed within sight for a very long time, shrinking with distance until she dropped out of view.
Horrified, Jason bowed his head, squashing his face against the ground. Closing his eyes, forearms burning, he squeezed the guideline harder than ever. Surely the wind would slacken any moment. If anything, it rose a bit more. Any moment. Any moment.
At last the wind ebbed, becoming a scream, then a roar. Peeking ahead, Jason saw Halco advancing. Jason hurried forward in his wake, not wanting to lose the seedman as a partial windbreak.
The notch widened. Glancing ahead, Jason saw the entire valley spreading outward from the gap, a giant funnel, just as some of the others had described.
