Chasing the Prophecy

by Brandon Mull

  “Don’t you have doubts? What do you do? Ignore them? How do you deal with them?”

  Galloran rubbed his mouth and chin. “When I have doubts about a decision, I search for a better alternative. In this situation I see none. The only alternatives are different versions of waiting to be conquered. My next step is to examine the reasons I have to believe. I am confident that Esmira was a true oracle. I am confident that she would not have dealt with Maldor. I did everything in my power to verify the truthfulness of her words and came away satisfied. If I find my reasons satisfactory, I cast aside my doubts and proceed. Show me proof that my doubts are real, and I would feel differently. Show me a better alternative, and I would reevaluate my position.”

  “That makes sense,” Rachel said. “It’s just so hard. Attacking Felrook seems so hopeless. I can’t imagine what secret Jason could learn that would make a difference.”

  “That is where faith becomes necessary,” Galloran said. “I can’t envision what he will learn either. If I could, Jason’s quest would be pointless. Faith isn’t knowledge, Rachel. Faith is a tool. Faith keeps us going until we get the knowledge. Faith keeps us striving until we reach the consequences of our most important decisions.”

  “What if we have faith in something that’s wrong?” Rachel asked.

  “Then we’re heading for disappointment. But even misplaced faith can help us gain knowledge. We try to be smart about where we put our faith. And we adjust as we learn more.”

  “You’re convinced the prophecy is real,” Rachel said.

  “I’m convinced. If I thought it was false, I would turn this army around. I do not wish to hand Maldor an easy victory.”

  “So I just need to forget about my doubts?”

  “That choice is yours to make. If you mean to press forward, you must overcome your concerns. For anything worth accomplishing, we can always find reasons to doubt, just as we can also find reasons to proceed. I have weighed my alternatives. In these circumstances—with my fate in the balance, with your fate in the balance, with the fate of the world in the balance—I have chosen to side with faith and hope over doubt and despair.”

  “We had faith in the Word,” Rachel reminded him.

  “And the Word did not perform as we expected. It was not the end of the journey, as we had hoped, but it was part of the journey, perhaps a necessary part. Though I spent long years in the dungeons of Felrook, I do not regret my faith in the Word. That faith helped me eventually learn the truth of the matter, and brought me to where I now stand.”

  “Okay,” Rachel said.

  “This army is marching to war,” Galloran said. “You must decide how you will proceed. I hope you will have faith in the prophecy and faith in my judgment. Without your participation I’m not sure we can win. But if you ask it of me, Rachel, I will send you home. I can always press onward hoping that your role has already been fulfilled.”

  Rachel didn’t need time to consider a response. She respected and loved Galloran. She had promised Nedwin that she would protect him. She couldn’t imagine ditching him. “I won’t abandon you. I won’t abandon Jason and everyone. This conversation has helped me. I think I can manage my worries now. I’m sorry if I’ve been a pain. I didn’t want to see us tricked because I didn’t fully explain myself. Your thinking makes sense to me. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I went home now. We have to try.”

  Galloran patted her shoulder. “We’re lucky to have you. You’re a very intelligent young woman. Please come to me if you have other concerns or if you perceive other alternatives.”

  He stood, removed his blindfold, and exited the tent. Ferrin and Tark returned a moment later.

  Ferrin looked a little shamefaced. “Sorry. I talked to Galloran behind your back. I could tell you were having a difficult time, and I thought he could help better than anyone. I hope I didn’t make you too uncomfortable.”

  Rachel hugged the displacer. “Thanks, Ferrin. I needed that. Galloran helped me. I feel a lot better.”

  Ferrin gently pushed her away, his hands on her upper arms. “Are you sure? Or are you pretending to be satisfied?”

  “I’m pretty sure,” Rachel said. “There’s no way to erase all doubt, but Galloran gave me enough reasons to trust the prophecy again.”

  “We’re marching into a death trap,” Ferrin clarified. “The prophecy never promised success. None of that has changed.”

  “I know,” Rachel said. “We still have plenty of reasons to stress out.”

  “The period before a battle can be worse than the battle itself,” Tark said. “It certainly taxes my nerves more.”

  “I agree,” Ferrin said. “Best not to obsess about it. From all appearances we will not have to concern ourselves with battle, not until we reach the western pass. For now we merely need to survive long marches and cool nights. Shall I brew some mint tea?”

  Rachel and Tark approved.

  * * *

  As more days went by, the army passed through a region of fertile farmland and prosperous villages. Most of the people hid as the army approached. A handful of volunteers joined them. Up ahead, the Graywall Mountains drew nearer. Rachel knew that Felrook awaited behind those mountains, but she remained at peace with the decision Galloran had helped her reach.

  When the army neared the mouth of the western pass through the mountains, they found a force of four hundred awaiting them—a hundred covered in moss, a hundred clad in ivy, a hundred draped in vines, and a hundred bristling with black thorns. Four of the more skilled acolytes who Rachel remembered from Mianamon stood at the front of the company, wearing stately gray robes.

  Rachel enjoyed catching up with the acolytes, even if they regarded her odd apparel with uncertainty and treated her with remote courtesy. Rachel hadn’t been close to any of them, but they brought news that Ulani and the other women were well; not to mention they provided practical support for the upcoming battle.

  Galloran had prepared his men to expect the help of the treefolk, but Rachel could tell that many of the soldiers viewed their new allies with emotions ranging from suspicion to wonderment. After meeting with the acolytes and some of the leaders among the treefolk, Galloran decided to employ the majority of the treefolk as scouts at present.

  The day after pausing near the mouth of the pass, the Amar Kabal joined them. Thousands in number, the seedfolk were all mounted, the women favoring longbows, the men carrying swords and spears. Their armor looked light and fancy compared to the protective gear worn by the army from Trensicourt, and their weapons were of much more elegant workmanship. The seedfolk brought with them hundreds of orantium spheres, including more than twenty of the larger gatecrashers.

  Among the Amar Kabal, Rachel was pleased to discover several familiar faces. Andrus and Delissa were with them. Andrus told Rachel of how he had collected Delissa’s amar after she’d been blown into a deep gulf while trying to pass through Howling Notch. Delissa appeared younger than before, bright-eyed and fresh-faced, and seemed eager to test her marksmanship in the upcoming conflict.

  Lodan, the only son of Jasher and Farfalee, was also with the host. Rachel told him all she knew about his parents and his uncle Drake. He looked unchanged from the last time she’d seen him, even though he had died in the interim. Since it had been his First Death, Lodan had been reborn at the same age as when he had perished. Jasher had been reborn not long before him, so standing together they would have looked like brothers.

  Only one member of the Conclave accompanied the host. Rachel had last seen Commander Naman when he’d lost a duel against Galloran in the Seven Vales. He still had a high forehead and wide lips, but he looked so young!

  Rachel, Ferrin, and Tark were included in the meeting when the scouts reported the state of the western pass. Rachel noticed that Ferrin seemed uncomfortable. He normally seemed in control, no matter the circumstances, but today he was quiet and distracted. Was it a reaction to the presence of the seedmen?

  “What do you mean the gat
es stand open?” Naman asked, pacing rather than sitting. He wore a cloak over his armor and carried a slender, intricately carved mace. Rachel watched him with interest, wondering how many of her doubts he would share.

  “The wall is deserted,” the chief scout said. “The pass is undefended.”

  “We found no guardsmen at either side of the pass,” a second scout confirmed. “The defenses at the wall have been dismantled. The barracks lie empty. We sent men up the mountainsides and found nothing. We are searching for a force on the far side of the pass, but as of yet we have uncovered no sign of life. Plessit, the first village beyond the pass, stands abandoned.”

  “Very well,” Naman said. “Thank you for your report.” He turned to face Galloran, who sat blindfolded. “What do you make of this, King Galloran?”

  “I do not like accepting such a blatant invitation,” Galloran answered. “The empty pass is clearly bait for a colossal trap. Maldor is not even trying to conceal his intentions. He knows what prophecy we heard and has elected to taunt us. By shamelessly luring us to proceed, he is testing whether we will see this through.”

  “The sieges of Inkala, Kadara, and Highport have all been called off,” Naman said. “The imperial armies are racing west at an unprecedented pace.”

  “I have heard the reports,” Galloran said. “The emperor waited to recall them until he felt sure we were committed.”

  “Are we committed?” Naman asked. “The full might of Maldor’s armies will reach Felrook not many days after us. We can’t hold the eastern gap against them—it is a wide plain without a wall.”

  Rachel tried to keep her expression neutral. Was it wrong that she was happy to see Naman testing Galloran? He was the perfect person to do it—not only was he one of the biggest skeptics in Lyrian, but he also knew a lot about battle strategy. She understood Galloran’s faith in the prophecy, but she didn’t want it to make him ignore common sense in his preparations. Naman would make sure that didn’t happen.

  “The drinling host should reach the eastern gap on the morrow,” Galloran said. “Not that they could plug the gap any more realistically than we could. But the drinlings will be in position to fall upon Felrook with us.”

  Naman snorted. “Perhaps you should rephrase that—they will be in position to gaze across Lake Fellion alongside us.”

  “Perhaps,” Galloran agreed.

  “The emperor has not bothered to mask his strategy,” Naman said. “Why not thwart him? Our march has served to break the sieges in Kadara. The cities can now resupply, and their forces can regroup. By withdrawing now, we accomplish much at little cost. We waste his movement of troops and extend the war in the east for years.”

  Rachel had also considered this possibility. She watched Galloran with interest.

  “He has no need to hide his strategies,” Galloran repeated. “He knows our only hope of beating him is to proceed and take Felrook. The prophecy demands that we march on Felrook, and it warns that Felrook must fall. If we turn back before reaching our goal, the prophecy will never be fulfilled. The war would be officially over. We would return home to await our demise.”

  “Instead, we will go like livestock to the slaughterhouse,” Naman said. “Once we are through the pass, Maldor will take it back, no matter how many defenders we leave. We will be trapped, then killed, and then the war will really be over.”

  “Not if we take Felrook before Maldor’s armies arrive from the east,” Galloran said.

  “How do you propose we do that?” Naman asked.

  “First, we take the keeps,” Galloran said. “As you know, three keeps surround Felrook. They are not protected by water. They allow Maldor to send out sorties against attacking troops. But if they fall, they would provide stout shelter for a besieging army.”

  “The gatecrashers?” Naman asked.

  “The gatecrashers will give us a major advantage against the keeps,” Galloran agreed. “Our displacer knows secret ways into two of the fortresses. We may be able to take a couple of them with guile.”

  Rachel glanced at Ferrin. He noticed her attention and gave an uneasy smile.

  “So we take the three keeps and the walls protecting the ferry,” Naman said. “Call it four keeps, since the ferry is essentially a fortress as well. What then? Those walls will not house our entire host. They will provide scant protection against the horde that will descend on us from the east.”

  “Once we hold the keeps, we begin to study the problem of Felrook,” Galloran said. “We engineer a way to attack the stronghold.”

  “You mean we wait for the other part of the prophecy,” Naman said. “We hope that your companions slay the Maumet, find a dead prophet, and gain some inscrutable secret that will save us.”

  “Essentially, yes,” Galloran said.

  “This is folly,” Naman protested. “It is not too late to turn back.”

  “We have had news from Lord Jason,” Galloran said. “Ferrin?”

  Ferrin stood. “My ear is with Jason. He informed me this morning that they have destroyed the Maumet and escaped Windbreak Island.” Expressions of relief and excitement greeted the news. After a moment Galloran held up his hands, allowing Ferrin to continue. “They have the location of Darian the Seer in their possession. They have been heavily pursued. A lurker fell upon them, which they killed.” This announcement created another stir. Ferrin glanced briefly at Rachel. She wondered how they would have defeated a torivor without Galloran.

  “Let him proceed,” Naman said.

  “They spent several days caught in a calm; then other torivors, glimpsed in the distance, led a small fleet to them and chased them about the Inland Sea. They are finally preparing to disembark and journey over land to the last abode of Darian the Seer. They chose to share this information because they decided that if the emperor knew their movements, we deserved an update as well. A displacer cannot leak secrets that are already known. They hoped we would find their progress encouraging.” Ferrin sat.

  “Indeed,” Naman replied, “I am relieved to hear that the second part of the prophecy has not yet unraveled into failure. Defeating the Maumet was an unexpected success. Yet we are all in agreement that Maldor has learned the prophecy and is using it against us.” Naman didn’t look at Rachel, but she cringed a bit anyway. “With foreknowledge of our movements he has undoubtedly created a perfect trap. We will be caught between an unassailable fortress and the full might of his armies. What information could possibly alter this unwinnable scenario?”

  Galloran stood. “Just because you or I cannot comprehend the secret that can save us does not mean it isn’t real. We have good reason to believe such a secret exists. We must let that suffice.”

  “You ask much,” Naman said.

  “I do not ask it,” Galloran said. “The oracle saw what she saw. The truth she beheld asks this of us. We can resist our duty with logic, we can find reasons to turn aside, but the prophecy will not be fulfilled because we almost obeyed. We must finish what we have started. It will not be easy. We have been warned that this endeavor will probably end in ruin. But we are here because it is our last chance.”

  “You speak true,” Naman said. “It is why we came. Besides, if I protest, I may find myself prematurely in the ground again. We proceed on the morrow?”

  “We do.”

  Naman frowned slightly, but nodded. Rachel could tell he seemed satisfied, which was an encouraging sign. “How many men do we leave to hold the wall?” he asked.

  Galloran rubbed his palms together. “Holding the pass will not win the war. If we fail to take Felrook, we will all perish. If Maldor wants the pass, he will take it regardless of how we defend it.”

  “But it is a highly defensible position,” Naman said. “We should make him pay to have it back.”

  “Probably sensible,” Galloran consented. “We will examine the wall when we pass it tomorrow. It will most likely be attacked from both sides. Those who remain there will not escape. We will guard it with an appropriate cont
ingent of volunteers.”

  They went into particulars about how the remainder of the march would be coordinated, including the missions of scouts throughout the valley, the integration of the Amar Kabal among the human troops, and how the orantium would be allocated. They outlined strategies for contending with manglers and giants. They discussed how the drinlings would be used in the upcoming fight.

  As Galloran and Naman moved into discussions about supply wagons and the dispersion of resources, Rachel began to lose interest. She knew it was important to keep everybody fed, but she had nothing to contribute to the conversation.

  She managed to catch Ferrin’s eye. Is everyone all right? she mouthed. He didn’t seem to understand, so she repeated the silent inquiry.

  His face fell a little. Enough to tell her that something was wrong. After, he mouthed back.

  Rachel could hardly sit still through the remainder of the meeting. Could one of her friends have been hurt? Killed? She tried unsuccessfully not to think about it. When the strategy session finally concluded, Rachel left with Tark and Ferrin.

  “Why didn’t you tell me about the message from Jason before the meeting?” Rachel asked Ferrin once they were outside and had a measure of privacy. She moved her veil aside in order to see him better.

  “I was having a private discussion with Galloran when Jason confided in me,” Ferrin apologized. “As soon as I relayed the message, Galloran asked me to keep it a secret so that he could use it as surprise leverage when dealing with Naman. It only meant withholding the information from you for a few hours.”

  “I guess I can’t blame you if Galloran specifically asked,” Rachel said grudgingly. She wanted to make sure everyone was all right. At the same time, she was afraid to ask. “It’s a good sign, right? That they got past the Maumet?”

  “An excellent sign,” Ferrin agreed. “Many have tried to defeat the Maumet to no avail. If one impossible task has been accomplished, why not more?”

  “Jason is all right?” Rachel asked, her voice quiet, her body tense.