by Brandon Mull
“We can finally see Windbreak Island.”
She gave a tired smile. “Dry land?”
“Dry land. Of course, it means we’ll have to deal with the Maumet.”
“Anything to get off this boat,” Corinne groaned. “Maumets, lurkers, you name it. Have we spotted any other ships?”
“Nothing yet. If the emperor has learned our destination, Aram is worried ships might hide on the far side of the island.”
“Why does it have to be an island?” Corinne lamented. “The only way off is more sailing. If we defeat the Maumet, maybe I’ll just stay there, live in the library.”
“I know you like books,” Jason said.
She nodded, then grimaced. Her hand cradled her abdomen. “I’m already feeling queasy. . . . It never stops.”
“Rest,” Jason said. “We’ll get you to dry ground soon.”
She closed her eyes tightly and gently lay on her side, head cradled on the crook of her elbow. “Thanks . . . news.”
Jason exited the cabin and walked away, grateful to escape the smell of her puke. He wished he knew how to comfort her. Whenever he visited, it seemed like Corinne would rather be alone. She either wanted rest or she was lost in her suffering. When he tried to talk to her or console her, he ended up feeling like a nuisance. He couldn’t blame her. He hated the sensation of nausea. She hadn’t had much of a break from it in almost a week.
On deck Jason went to the bow and peered ahead at the island, gray with distance. Jasher stood there as well.
“How long?” Jason asked.
Jasher glanced up at the sails. “The wind is dwindling again, and the direction has been inconstant. Could take most of the day. Could take longer.”
“Do we have a plan?” Jason wondered.
“Farfalee and Aram have something in mind. We’re about to confer. You should join us.”
“Sure.”
“How is Corinne?”
“Miserable.”
“The voyage has been relatively smooth,” Jasher said. “She will never be a sailor.”
“I think she’s fine with that.”
Jasher led Jason over to where Aram, Farfalee, Drake, Nia, and Heg stood in a loose huddle. Heg had taken to wearing a wool cap he had found belowdecks. He stood shorter than Jason, but with wider shoulders and much bigger hands. Gray stubble lined his jaw.
“Have you started without us?” Jasher asked.
“You’re just in time,” Aram said, nodding a welcome to Jason. “First order of business will be to circle the island. I do not expect to find enemy ships lurking on the far side, but we can’t risk getting attacked by sea while fighting the Maumet on land.”
“Agreed,” Jasher said.
“Once we’re anchored, I propose we send two launches to shore,” Aram continued. “One will land; one will wait on the water. The crew of the first launch will engage the Maumet and find out what exactly we’re dealing with. The second crew will include Jason, Jasher, and Farfalee. If we can delay or restrain the Maumet, they may opt to hurry to the library. If not, they can witness the threat we’re facing.”
“The people in the first launch will be bait?” Jason checked.
“In a sense,” Aram said. “They’ll fight to hold the Maumet at bay.”
“Who goes in the first launch?” Jasher asked.
“I’ll lead a team of drinlings,” Aram replied.
“You’re our captain!” Jasher said. “We can’t afford to lose you.”
“My sentiments exactly,” Drake offered.
Aram shook his head. “When the sun is down, I have the best armor, the longest reach, and the biggest sword. I promise not to throw my life away. I want to help protect the others and inspect our enemy up close.”
“Aram is taking this captaincy too earnestly,” Drake said. “His caution is fading. He’s ready to go down with the ship.”
“I have no plan to die on Windbreak Island,” Aram said. “There is a time for caution and a time for action. This affair with the Maumet will require action. If we make it around the island before nightfall, we’ll land in the evening. If not, we’ll make landfall before dawn.”
“You could watch us attack the monster from the other launch,” Heg suggested to Aram. “You’re among the chosen ones named in the prophecy. We can’t risk losing you. You should study our skirmish and lead a second squad.”
Jason thought about what Farfalee had said about the willingness of drinlings to sacrifice themselves. Bat had risked himself for the group, as had the drinlings on the wall at Durna. Was it right to keep taking advantage of that tendency by letting them volunteer for the most deadly assignments? Jason wondered whether he should volunteer to join the first group.
Aram shook his head. “I’m the best equipped for this confrontation. You brought good men and women with you, Heg. I respect you, and I respect them. I’ll not sit by and watch their demise when I might help prevent it. If I’m named in the prophecy, all the more reason I should be involved.”
“I’ll join Aram’s squad,” Jasher said. “Why plan for failure? Perhaps we can dispatch the Maumet on the first try.”
Jason looked from Jasher to Aram. He didn’t want the drinlings to die, nor did he want his friends to take the risk instead. Were there other options? Maybe he could help directly! Why should he always sit on the sidelines? “I’ll come too,” he offered.
“Sorry, Jason,” Farfalee said. “I’m sure you’d make a good showing, but you’re the last person we can risk.”
Jason didn’t like how automatically she shot him down. “I’m sick of hiding behind other people. Aram made a good point. Maybe those of us named in the prophecy have a bigger responsibility to get involved in stuff like this.”
“You’ll get your chances,” Jasher pledged. “But I agree with my wife that we can only endanger you when it becomes most necessary. You’re not hiding behind anybody. We all have our duties. Everyone aboard this ship is risking everything. Don’t worry. Aram and I will watch our step. None of us are in a rush to throw our lives away.”
“I’ll second that,” Aram grunted.
Jason decided he had better back down. If everyone was against him on this, it would do no good to keep complaining. Although part of him felt embarrassed to have his offer denied, a more secret part was relieved to avoid the danger.
“Maybe one squad isn’t enough,” Nia speculated. “Should we attack the Maumet with a larger force? Try to overwhelm it?”
Farfalee shook her head. “If numbers were the only issue, others would have destroyed it long ago.”
“So eight of us are supposed to succeed where an army would fail?” Drake verified.
“We’ll examine what we’re dealing with,” Aram said. “We’ll test the effectiveness of various weapons—blunt ones, sharp ones, projectiles. I’ll bring orantium.”
“I wonder if Corinne would loan me her sword,” Jasher mused.
“I’ll loan you mine,” Jason said.
Jasher shook his head. “If you end up going ashore, you’ll need it.”
“There will probably be no chance for a second party to go ashore,” Farfalee said. “If a simple diversion would work, the library would have been breached ages ago. I agree that we should test ourselves against the Maumet, but if it appears unbeatable, the landing party should fall back.”
“I’m in no rush to die again,” Jasher assured her.
“The guardian can transform itself?” Heg checked.
“We believe it can change form,” Aram recounted. “According to Ferrin, the Maumet can mimic the properties of any material it touches. We have to find out how that works in practice, search for weaknesses.”
“Any idea how far the Maumet can stray from the island?” Drake asked.
“We know it can’t leave the island,” Farfalee replied. “Otherwise, it would have done so long ago. But we have no idea how far it can venture into the sea.”
Aram rubbed his hands together briskly. “Only one way to f
ind out. If we’re done here, I need to check our heading.”
“Very well,” Farfalee agreed. “I hate to risk losing any of our number, but I fear risk will be an inevitable companion for the remainder of our journey.”
“I’ll join Jason and Farfalee in the second launch,” Heg said. “I’ll organize drinlings to fill the remaining needs of the two squads.”
The meeting ended and everyone dispersed. Jason wandered to the front of the ship to watch the island. The salty breeze came generally from the east, sometimes gusting from the southeast and occasionally blowing from the northeast. At times the Valiant turned into the wind at an angle, sails positioned to keep slicing forward. For some stretches the wind pushed the ship from behind at a good pace. The drinlings adjusted the sails often, and the sweeps sloshed endlessly.
The prospect of fighting the Maumet kept Jason patient as he watched Windbreak Island draw imperceptibly closer. He knew they needed to get there ahead of their enemies. But part of him was in no hurry. What if the creature decimated Aram, Jasher, and the rest of their squad? Jason frowned. What if it came out into the water and destroyed the people in his own launch boat as well? His frown deepened. What if the Maumet attacked the ship? Jason was not eager for answers to those questions.
All they really knew about the Maumet was that it could transform into different substances and that it had been feared by the most powerful people in Lyrian since the days of Eldrin. From the current distance Windbreak Island looked innocent, but Jason knew that it might end up as his cemetery.
Hour by hour the island came into sharper focus. Eventually shorebirds squawked above the ship, some with dark plumage and red feet, others white with gray tail feathers. By evening Jason could discern beaches, trees, and jagged hills. He could also see the enormous domes of a colossal building curving above the treetops on the eastern side of the island, near the crest of a long slope. Jasher confirmed that the gargantuan edifice was the Celestine Library. Supposedly, the location of Darian the Pyromancer awaited inside.
As the light failed, a larger Aram guided the ship in a wide circle around the island. Windbreak Island was several miles long and at least a few miles across, with steep cliffs on the northwestern side and several long sandbars to the southwest. Everyone aboard kept watch, but they found no hidden enemy ships. They anchored the Valiant off the eastern side of the island, near a pristine beach of white sand. The moon made the beach ghostly, and glowed off the five domes visible up the slope from the coast. The two largest domes overshadowed the other three. As Jason considered the library by moonlight, Farfalee came to his side.
“Quite a sight,” she said.
“Have you been there before?” Jason wondered.
“No. But I did work for years in the Great Document Hall at Elbureth. The Maumet has dwelled here since our race was young. The Abomination is very old.”
“Old enough to be getting weaker?”
“Wouldn’t that be fortunate? We will know much more tomorrow.”
“I looked for it all day,” Jason said. “I never saw anything.”
“We were all keeping watch. The creature has not shown itself. But I expect it is aware of us.”
“What kind of books are in the library?” Jason asked.
“Many have speculated,” Farfalee said. “Certainly the collection contains the majority of the oldest surviving writings in Lyrian. Many will be written in Sulcrix, a phonetic shorthand version of Edomic. Even the characters would be unrecognizable to most. Some of the texts will be in our current common tongue.”
“Can anyone read Sulcrix?”
She nodded. “I can. Drake can read a little Sulcrix. Jasher less. I am quite fluent in twelve languages, most of them scholarly, some of them dead. My most obvious role in this mission will be locating the information we seek here.”
“Looks like a big library,” Jason remarked.
“Vast,” she agreed. “Zokar wanted to seal off the information from his enemies without harming the texts, so he imprisoned the Maumet here. Presumably, he planned to move the Maumet elsewhere after his foes were vanquished.”
“But he lost, so the Maumet has guarded the place ever since.”
Farfalee turned to Jason. “You should rest. Tomorrow will be eventful.”
Jason nodded. “Guess I might as well try.”
* * *
By the time Drake jostled Jason awake, the launches had already been lowered into the water. Sunrise was perhaps an hour away. They wanted to reach the shore with light in the sky, but before the sunrise would shrink Aram.
The others were finishing a breakfast of unsweetened oatmeal. Jason accepted a bowl of lukewarm mush and began hurriedly eating.
“Quiet this morning,” Nia observed, staring at the island. “What if the Maumet doesn’t show itself?”
“I don’t want to stray far from the beach on this first foray,” Aram said, adjusting his leather cloak over his heavy shirt of overlapping rings. “If the Maumet means to lie in wait out of sight, we’ll have to devise a new strategy. We had best move out before the daylight renders me frail.”
Jason gulped down the last of his oatmeal before descending a rope ladder to one of the launches. Eight people fit comfortably in each. Farfalee, Drake, Nia, and Heg were all in his boat. Three other drinlings joined them, two of them at the oars.
Aram and Jasher were in the other launch, along with six drinlings, including Ux. Zoo was the only female going ashore.
The launches moved away from the Valiant toward the white sand beach. The swells were noticeable, rocking the launches gently, but could not have competed with ocean waves. The modest breakers seldom rose above eighteen inches as they curled against the shore. The drinling rowers maneuvered the launches with little difficulty.
The launches were roughly a hundred yards from the beach when a dark figure strode out onto the sand. In form it looked just like a lurker—a smooth humanoid shape without a face. But the similarity ended there. Although not clumsy, the figure did not move with the shadowy stealth of a torivor. It rocked slightly as it walked forward, kicking up sand with each stride. Composed of reddish-brown wood, the creature was much larger than any torivor Jason had seen.
“Is that the Maumet?” Nia asked. “It doesn’t look so tough.”
The wooden figure stopped at the center of the beach and held perfectly still, arms at its sides, facing the launches. It made no sound.
“Stay back,” Aram called from the other launch. “Watch closely.”
“It isn’t entering the water,” Drake murmured. “That’s a good sign.”
“Don’t draw conclusions yet,” Farfalee cautioned, setting an arrow to the string of her bow.
Jason’s launch wobbled on the swells, holding steady as Aram’s launch powered toward the shore. The Maumet made no move as the launch neared the beach. The craft rasped onto the sand, and the people inside piled out, weapons held high as they splashed away from the shallows. One strapping drinling remained beside the launch, ready for a quick getaway.
Aram, Jasher, Ux, Zoo, and three other drinlings fanned out and approached the Maumet in a loose arc. Jasher drew the torivorian sword he had borrowed from Corinne. The wooden figure seemed inanimate, more like a driftwood scarecrow than a fearsome enemy. The stillness was unnerving, because they had all seen it moving. Raising a fist, Aram signaled for his squad to halt.
With the squad in a loose semicircle before the Maumet, Jason could see that it stood at least ten feet high, making Aram look like the tallest of a group of children. Farfalee pulled an arrow to her cheek. Jason gripped the gunwale.
Aram had brought a pair of orantium spheres. Hefting one of them, he flung it at the stationary Maumet. His aim was good, but the wooden figure dodged the globe, and it landed on the sand without bursting. Farfalee released her arrow, which struck the wooden creature in the chest and remained there. Showing no discomfort from the arrow, the Maumet rushed Aram. Drinlings closed from either side to help their cap
tain face the creature.
The Maumet was quick. A leg lashed out and struck Aram squarely in the chest, sending him tumbling across the sand, ring mail jangling, his sword still in hand. A drinling soldier whacked the Maumet in the hip with an ax before getting clubbed in the head by a wooden forearm. Batting away the sword of another drinling, the Maumet kicked the warrior in the side, the blow simultaneously folding him over and sending him flying.
Jasher, Ux, and Zoo had been on the far side of the semicircle from Aram, and they rushed the Maumet from behind. Ux crunched his mace against the creature’s thigh, noisily splitting the wood. Zoo dove low, attacking an ankle with a pair of hatchets. The Maumet spun and swung a vicious backhand. With a beautifully timed swing of his sword, Jasher hacked the wooden hand off at the wrist. The severed hand turned to dust in the air.
Shaking free from Zoo, the Maumet hobbled away. A new hand promptly formed, and the cracks and gouges on the leg closed.
“Did it lose a little size to replace the hand?” Farfalee said, peering through a spyglass. “When the hand was severed, I think that mass was lost.”
“So it adjusted,” Drake said. “Reformed the hand with material from elsewhere.”
“Will we have to destroy it one hand at a time?” Jason asked.
“I hope not,” Farfalee murmured. “It’s quick and strong.”
Another drinling charged the Maumet. The creature caught his war hammer by the haft just below the head and punched him in the face with its free hand. Instantly the Maumet turned a glossy white. The fallen drinling scrambled to his feet, wiping his sleeve against his face. Clutching the captured war hammer, the Maumet backed away so that all the combatants were in front of it, then held still.
Aram had risen, as had the drinling who’d gotten clubbed on the head. The drinling who had received the kick in the side lay motionless on the white sand.
“Did it change to sand?” Drake asked.
“I don’t think so,” Farfalee said. “Right color, wrong texture.”
“Tooth enamel,” Jason realized.
“The Maumet hit Kay in the mouth right when it transformed,” Drake said.
