Chasing the Prophecy

by Brandon Mull

  “I might hit one too,” Nia pointed out.

  “Anything is possible,” Aram replied.

  Nia swatted him, brandishing his sword. “Don’t forget who totes this while the sun is out!”

  “I meant no insult,” Aram said. “I’ve just never seen anyone shoot like Farfalee.”

  Jasher led all of them but Farfalee and Nia single file. Jason kept peering over his shoulder, watching for the soldiers to come within range. They all stopped when Farfalee and Nia started shooting. The exhibition did not take long.

  Farfalee and Nia caught up to the others by late afternoon.

  “I hit two,” Nia reported. “I also missed twice, but one of my hits was fatal.”

  “I stand corrected about your marksmanship,” Aram said. Raising his voice, he called ahead to Jasher. “Any chance of picking up the pace? This Polished Plain is one of the few places where little Aram has a definite advantage.”

  “We’ll make it by sundown,” Jasher promised.

  They crept onward. The lack of sleep from the night before was catching up with Jason. The pace was not quick, but it was relentless, and the constant danger of the ground giving way kept him tense. They ate while walking. At one point Jasher’s foot broke the surface, but he managed to skip backward before the crust shattered beneath him. In the end Jasher barely managed to keep his promise. Aram grew large perhaps ten minutes after leaving the Polished Plain behind.

  The next day they reached landmarks more quickly. They sighted the Stepping-Stones—seven staggered columns of rock that increased in height—early in the day, and then left them behind by the afternoon.

  The Giant’s Bathhouse was a naturally terraced mesa with overflowing pools at various levels. The spilling water left behind colorful mineral deposits—elaborate draperies that gave the mesa the appearance of a huge cake dripping with frosting. Rolling clouds of steam billowed from a gaping cave at the base of the fanciful formation.

  They halted for the night not far beyond the Giant’s Bathhouse. Jasher informed them that in the morning it would only take a few hours to reach the Scalding Caverns. Once through the caverns they would follow the Narrow Way to the last abode of Darian the Seer.

  “Do you think this will really be the right place?” Jason asked Corinne as they prepared to bed down. “Do you think we’ll find Darian?”

  “I expect so,” she replied. “I can’t imagine there was other information at the library that the oracle would have wanted us to follow. Having Farfalee along to read that Petruscan scroll had to be by design.”

  “I hope so,” Jason said. “If we’re wrong, I guess there isn’t much we can do about it. The instructions make it sound like I should enter alone.”

  “Alone and unarmed,” Jasher clarified. “The prophecy named you as the person who needed to collect the information from Darian. The rest of us are here to get you to your destination.”

  Jason nodded, trying not to display the heaviness he felt inside.

  “We might be willing to guard the door while you’re in there,” Nia said.

  “Think he’ll speak English?” Jason wondered.

  “He lived before English became prevalent,” Farfalee said. “But if he’s still around, who knows? If the prophecy sent you here, there must be some way for the two of you to communicate.”

  “Think we’ll make it there tomorrow?” Jason asked.

  “Depends on how long this Narrow Way will be,” Farfalee said. “It is on none of the maps, and the instructions were unclear about the distance. The way should end at a waterfall. The entrance is under and behind the cascade.”

  The conversation died. Jason nestled into his blanket, and he could feel himself slipping toward sleep when Jasher sat up abruptly. Snapping back to full consciousness, Jason listened intently. After a moment he heard footfalls. It sounded like a single runner.

  Farfalee and Nia nocked arrows. Jason grabbed his sword. Jasher had not risked a fire, but the moon was bright tonight.

  The runner kept coming, feet pounding steadily. The oncoming stranger did not seem to be making any efforts at stealth. A few moments later Heg jogged into view.

  “Heg?” Nia asked in disbelief.

  The drinling stopped and waved. “You weren’t easy to follow.” He was only slightly out of breath.

  “We were worried all of you had died,” Jasher said. “The scenario looked bleak.”

  “Most of us did,” Heg said. “I escaped into the water, swam to safety. I don’t think anyone else made it. Certainly not those who stayed on dry land.”

  “How’d you find us?” Jason asked, amazed.

  “I came north,” Heg said. “I knew the general direction, some of the main landmarks. My best clues came from the horsemen on your trail. I followed them. Looked like their mission ended back on that watery plain. Unless I’m mistaken, some of them got to check how polished the plain appears from the underside. I knew I was getting close, because the soldiers with arrows in them were recently slain. This evening I followed your tracks from the edge of the plain.”

  “Well met,” Del said, gripping forearms with his leader.

  “I’m relieved to find you in such good health,” Heg said. “It seemed the entire population of the Inland Sea had been mobilized to hunt you.”

  “We stayed well away from the coast,” Jasher said. “Those horsemen back there were our first real problem.”

  “A wise strategy,” Heg approved. “The coasts are definitely swarming. What became of the others with you?”

  “We lost Zoo, Thag, and Fet while fleeing Gulba,” Farfalee said. “Zoo fell to a torivor. Thag and Fet were claimed by Groddic.”

  “Groddic?” Heg exclaimed. “The chief of the conscriptors?”

  “He paid with his life,” Nia said.

  “And what of the torivor?” Heg wondered. “The one that kept helping them find us?”

  “Corinne killed it,” Jason said.

  “It had no swords,” she added humbly. “I could feel its mind, anticipate its movements.”

  “Impressive,” Heg said. He clapped his hands together. “I am relieved to have found you. I did not mean to interrupt your slumber. I doubt that I arrived in time to be of much service against our enemies. Over the past few days I have seen no evidence of further pursuit. For now we appear to have passed beyond their reach. But I will be more than curious to witness how this ends.”

  “We’re glad to have you with us,” Farfalee said. “Come share some of our food.”

  Jason fell asleep before Heg finished his meal.

  CHAPTER 23

  THE FUMING WASTE

  Shortly after dawn, from the shoulder of a craggy hill streaked orange and white, Jason viewed his first panoramic vista of the Fuming Waste. Bands of red, orange, yellow, pink, and white gave striking color to the limestone landscape. Stunted vegetation subsisted in sparse patches—contorted trees, scraggly shrubs, and prickly cacti. Two geysers were erupting, one not far below, the other more distant. Both spewed sparkling towers of scalding water and steam into the air. Within a minute or two the nearer fountain shrank to a bubbling froth and then stopped. The distant geyser kept gushing for a good while. A third geyser started up in the middle distance, just before the far one began to decline.

  “It’s lovely,” Corinne said from astride her gelding. “Look at the new one!”

  As the soaring eruption continued to stretch higher, refracted sunlight laced the spray with prismatic ripples of color. Behind the radiant display, the farther geyser continued to diminish.

  “Three geysers in a row?” Jason said. “I hope geysers are lucky.”

  Jasher grunted. “If so, we have come to the luckiest place in Lyrian.”

  “I cannot vouch for their value as omens,” Farfalee said, “but the waters of the Fuming Waste are certainly unruly. We’re only at the outskirts. As we draw nearer to the mountains we will find hot springs, painted rivers, sludge pits, cauldrons, sinkholes, steam vents, mineral terraces, mud
volcanoes, and geyser cones. None of our maps will be perfect, for the geography here evolves much more rapidly than anywhere else in Lyrian. We will need to proceed with care. There are volatile areas where the ground becomes wafer thin above boiling lakes or where scant layers of sand disguise wells of searing mud.”

  “Sounds perfect for a picnic,” Jason quipped. “Who brought the sandwiches?”

  “I have ridden this hazardous region before,” Jasher said, “though I never came so near to the heart of the Fuming Waste as this journey demands. Certain indicators can help protect us. Watch for steaming ground. Watch for webs of cracks. Feel for warm pockets. Listen for gurgling. Listen for the earth below popping or splitting. We’ll ride single file.” He pointed into the distance. “The Great Yellow Cone is our first landmark. From there we must proceed across the Polished Plain to the Stepping-Stones, past the Giant’s Bathhouse, and finally into the Scalding Caverns.”

  “And Rachel has the good camera,” Jason sighed. “Anything after the Scalding Caverns? Maybe the Flaming Hot Ocean of Misery?”

  “The Narrow Way,” Farfalee said. “And finally our destination.”

  Jason could see the first landmark poking above a distant ridgeline. The conical mount was shaped just like a volcano that a child would draw, its coloring the same yellow and white as a lemon meringue pie.

  During the long ride north they had not been spied by their adversaries, though as he scouted, Jasher had occasionally glimpsed enemy riders from a distance. The seedman had led their group on a lengthy ride inland before veering northward. The strategy had added at least a day to the trek, but it made the task very difficult for any soldiers who sailed north in order to cut them off or pick up their trail.

  Two of Farfalee’s messenger eagles had returned to her after she had set them loose the night they had abandoned the Valiant. She did not dare let them fly for fear of revealing their location. Instead, she kept them tethered to Aram’s saddle, feeding the large birds from the group’s rations.

  Jason flicked his reins and followed Jasher down the rugged hillside. The seedman weaved along the slope, inventing the trail as he went. Aram pointed out a black scorpion the size of a lobster. Jasher warned that the smaller, orange scorpions had a deadlier sting. Jason didn’t crave an encounter with either variety.

  They saw no new geysers for more than an hour, but by sunset Jason had counted eleven. They made camp in a cove of red rock. In addition to their regular rations, everyone but Jasher and Farfalee sampled part of the five-foot pit snake Del had killed. The cooked meat was chewy and almost sweet.

  The next day the Great Yellow Cone grew gradually nearer. Jason had a hard time gauging its size. It was certainly nothing to rival the mountains on the horizon, but it was a good deal taller than the surrounding mesas, drawing the eye more than any other feature.

  As the day wore on, they more frequently passed steaming vents. Some were jagged cracks no wider than a pencil, others yawning holes large enough to swallow a motor home. They also came across bubbling pools of muck—some red, some black, some white, most a silvery gray. The mud varied in thickness from viscous sludge to watery syrup. Some pools coughed up an occasional slow bubble; others simmered vigorously. Most of them reeked of sulfur.

  Throughout the ride Jason missed Drake. He missed his teasing comments, his reliable advice, and even his cynical predictions. He missed the steady competence of his presence. They were less safe without him. More than once Jason had caught himself wondering when Drake would return from scouting, only to remember that his friend would never be back. From time to time he rode with his head bowed to hide the tears.

  They stopped for the night near a black pool with a churning disturbance near the center. After making camp, Jason went to stare at the pool while twilight faded. The constant disruption heaved dark fluid eight feet into the air, like a small, permanent geyser. The central churning kept the rest of the surface rippling vigorously. Jasher called the murky pool a cauldron, which Jason considered an apt description

  As more stars emerged in the darkening sky, Corinne joined Jason beside the pool. For a long moment she watched with him in silence. Eventually he noticed that her attention had shifted from the pool to him. “Are you all right?” she asked.

  “I’m good,” Jason said, uncertain how else to respond.

  “You’ve seemed extra quiet lately.”

  “Have you heard? We’re being hunted.”

  “I’m serious.”

  Jason turned his attention back to the pool. “I don’t know. It’s been harder since we lost Drake. And then we lost so many people at Gulba. I guess it’s getting to me.”

  “I’m glad to hear that,” Corinne said.

  Jason looked at her sharply. “You’re heartless.”

  “No,” she apologized. “I mean, I’m glad because I feel the same way. I feel . . . drained, sad . . . you know.”

  “I know. It’s rough. I guess we try to look on the bright side. We’re getting close. Maybe some of us will actually make it.”

  “All the rest of us,” she said.

  “I hope so.” He glanced her way. “You were amazing against that lurker. I couldn’t believe it.”

  “Neither could I,” Corinne said. “I was so scared. But I could feel its mind, and I knew I had a chance. I also knew it would lead soldiers to us. It might have made escape impossible. It had no weapon. I felt like I had to try.”

  “I honestly thought you were dead,” Jason said. “That might have been it for me.”

  “Don’t talk like that,” Corinne scolded. “Of all of us, you need to hold true to the end.”

  Jason looked down at his hands. Why him? Why did it matter so much for him to find Darian’s home? He wasn’t the best fighter. If anything, he was the worst. But the oracle had named him first. As a result, Drake had died to save him. Guilt twisted deep inside.

  Corinne put a hand on his. Her hand was not soft. She had calluses from practicing with her sword. He squeezed her hand. She squeezed back.

  Maybe Darian was alive. Maybe Darian would only share secrets with Beyonders. Maybe there would be a riddle that only Jason could answer. Maybe only his fingerprint could open the secret vault.

  “We’ll make it,” Jason said. He tried to mean it. He mostly did. It seemed like she needed him to say it. “We’ll find the message from Darian.”

  “I believe that,” Corinne said. “Don’t lose hope.”

  “I won’t.” She was sitting close.

  Corinne patted his hand and rose. “You shouldn’t sit here all night.”

  “Just a little longer.”

  She walked away. Jason stared at the churning sludge, feeling alone. Drake had died specifically for him. A big part of Jason wished that he hadn’t. But it couldn’t be undone. So now the responsibility was on his shoulders to make that mean something.

  * * *

  The next morning, not long after they began riding, the Great Yellow Cone erupted. Water and steam jetted upward for the better part of two hours, infinite droplets glittering in the morning light. By the end the entire conical mount glistened wetly.

  Soon after the Great Yellow Cone went dry, Nia spotted the third messenger eagle returning. Jasher and Aram instantly became alert. As the eagle circled down to Farfalee, Jasher pointed at a distant figure atop a pink ridge, little more than a speck to the naked eye.

  Jason felt dread pooling in the pit of his stomach. That tiny figure in the distance could spell big trouble. Aram had worried from the start that their enemies might find a way to track them using the eagles. Jason looked to the small half giant.

  Aram swiveled his spyglass to where Jasher was pointing. “He has a telescope of his own,” Aram snapped. “He’s waving. He’s turning his horse.”

  “They must have caught the eagle,” Jasher guessed. “They came north and used it to track us.”

  “How could they have caught it?” Farfalee asked. The eagle perched on her arm, eating from her hand. “Eina w
ould not have gone to them willingly. Until I send it with a message, while I remain alive Eina would only come to me.”

  Jason thought she sounded a little defensive. Farfalee had to feel terrible that one of her eagles had given them away. After all, Aram had warned her.

  “It would have taken some craft,” Jasher said. “Does it matter how they managed it? The damage is done. We need to pick up the pace.”

  By sunset they were in the shadow of the Great Yellow Cone. Aram had grown, which made Jason feel a bit safer. Spyglass in hand, Jasher scrambled up the side of the geyser cone. The climb was hundreds of feet. Much of the light had faded before he reached the top.

  “A big group, still riding hard,” Jasher reported upon his return. “Could be as many as thirty riders.”

  “How far back?” Jason asked.

  Jasher inhaled through his teeth. “If we hold still and they ride through the night, they might have us.”

  “Then we had best not keep still,” Farfalee said.

  “We’ll need to take care,” Jasher said. “The Polished Plain lies ahead of us. The ground is thin there. I have always heard that horses are too heavy to cross it, and the information on our most comprehensive map agrees.”

  “Should we think about finding a place to make a stand?” Jason asked. “Try to catch them off guard? Hit them with a rockslide or something?”

  “Thirty is too many,” Aram said. “We only have two orantium spheres. We should first try to outrun them.”

  “How far to the plain?” Farfalee asked.

  “We could be there before sunrise,” Jasher replied.

  “The horses are tired,” Nia said.

  “We won’t ride them hard,” Jasher replied. “We don’t want to attempt the Polished Plain in the dark.”

  After their evening meal they continued riding. There were enough clouds to mute the moon most of the time, forcing Jasher to light a length of seaweed. The glow let them see enough to avoid falling down a hole, but it would also give their pursuers an easy target to follow.

  The worry of enemies behind them kept Jason from feeling too tired. He listened to the strange exhalations of the alien landscape—the burbling of sludge pools, the sighs of steam vents, and the gusty splashing of geysers.