Chasing the Prophecy (Beyonders) (14 page)

Galloran raised his voice again. “Nedwin left weeks ago to prepare the way for us at Trensicourt. Nia did likewise for Jason and his party. The day wanes. The hour for farewells is almost past. Let us make ready to depart. Know that with every remaining moment of my life, with every opportunity I can seize and every resource I can borrow, I will devote myself to bringing down the emperor!”

This earned a final rousing cheer from the assemblage. Rachel found herself clapping and yelling along with the others. At the same time, she felt a little distant. Soon this moment would be a memory, as would the protective walls of Mianamon. Before long she would be separated from her two best friends in Lyrian, perhaps never to see them again. No more cheering. No more rest. No more jokes. Just a parade of unpredictable difficulties and dangers.

Corinne took her hand. Rachel looked up at her.
Are you in my mind?

We’ll see each other again.

Do you really think so?

At times like this, it’s the only thing we can let ourselves believe.

A cynical part of Rachel wondered how much Corinne could possibly understand about times like this.

When I stood outside that tree in the swamp
, Corinne conveyed gently,
all I clung to for years was a hope that my father would return for me. Long after I might have stopped believing, he finally came. And here I am.

Rachel hugged her.
Be safe. Watch out for Jason.

I’ll protect him with my life.

Rachel looked up, startled by how earnestly Corinne had conveyed the sentiment.

I’ll do my best to stay alive too
, Corinne assured her.

“Bye, Corinne.”

“Safe travels.”

Everyone was checking gear and shouldering packs. They were really leaving! Rachel hurried over to Jasher and hugged him. “Be safe.”

“You too.”

She turned to the half giant, Aram, who would remain small and unremarkable until sundown swelled him into a tall, heavily muscled warrior. “Take care of yourself.”

“Don’t fret about me,” Aram said. “I’ll do my best to watch out for the others.”

Drake was walking away, following a treeperson draped in heavy vines. Rachel jogged to him and placed a hand on his elbow. The seedman stopped, turning somewhat, not fully facing her. The profile view of his face emphasized his flat features. “I suppose there was no escaping you.”

“What? You wanted to just wander off without a word?”

“It can be easier that way.”

“Don’t be silly. You come back. You survive. I want to see you after this. I want you to show me your private valley in the mountains.”

“It wouldn’t be private anymore.” A small grin bent his lips as he rubbed the back of his neck, the place where his amar had failed to grow correctly after his last rebirth. “But I suppose I could live with that. Stay close to Galloran. He’ll keep you from harm.”

Rachel threw her arms around him. They had not been parted since Drake had guided her away from the torivor for weeks in the wilderness. “Take care.”

“I’ll try. Have a safe journey, Rachel.”

“I’ll miss you.”

He gave a stiff nod and strode away. She thought he might be near the brink of showing emotion. Her heart squeezed painfully
at the thought of parting from him and so many of her other friends. She tried to draw strength from his example.

Rachel caught up to Jason, who already had a pack on his back and a bucket of orantium in one hand. He set down the bucket and hugged her. He felt solid. Consecutive months of good eating and intense physical training had paid off.

“Are you trying to speak with your mind?” he said after a moment. “I can’t do that.”

She pulled away from the embrace and looked into his eyes. “Don’t give up.”

“There goes my plan.”

“I’m serious. Even if things look bad, find a way. You’re good at that. The oracle saw a way that we could win. Find it.”

“You too,” Jason urged. “Within reason. Don’t try some huge Edomic command and blow yourself to pieces.”

“There goes my plan.”

“You stole my line.” Jason glanced at the others departing.

“I know we have to hurry,” Rachel said. “But this is it. We’re taking different paths.” She took a breath and put conviction into her words. “We’ll see each other again.”

Tark came up to them. “This is wrong, Lord Jason, letting them part us.”

Jason turned to the stocky musician. “Sorry, Tark. The oracle is calling the shots on this one.”

“I remain your pledged man,” Tark avowed, touching a fist to his chest. “What are your orders?”

“Do your best to help Galloran win his war.”

“I swear it.”

“And keep an eye on Rachel. See if you can get her to stop telling me she’s going to see me again. I think she’s jinxing us.”

Rachel punched Jason’s arm.

Tark eyed Rachel uncertainly. She saw a hint of disapproval in his gaze, along with a little wariness.

Jason smiled. “That’s assault. Tark, take her out.”

The musician grinned, but not with his eyes. “You better handle this one.”

Chuckling, Jason picked up the bucket of explosives.

Rachel felt the moment slipping away. There was so much she wanted to say. What if something happened to him? What if she never told him how much she appreciated his coming back to Lyrian for her? How much she cared about him? There were too many feelings to translate into words. “See you later,” she managed.

“Not if I see you first,” Jason said, starting toward the main doors of the temple.

She watched him walking away. Were those the last words he would say to her? She stalked after him. “You can’t leave with a joke.”

He glanced back. “Why not?”

“What if I die?”

“Then at least I cheered you up before the end.”

“That wasn’t a cheerful joke. It was a teasing joke. And not even a very good one.”

“Fine. Why did the baby cross the road?”

“No jokes,” Rachel complained, striding along beside him.

“I guess it’s more fitting that we should end with an argument.”

“I just mean there are certain times when jokes aren’t appropriate.”

“Which makes them more needed and funny.”

She grabbed his arm and tugged him to a halt. “You have your way of coping, and I have mine. You’re amazing. You’re inspiring. You’re so brave. I’ll miss you and I appreciate you. Everything about you.”

“Even my humor?”

“Almost everything. Don’t die.”

“It might help if you stop giving my eulogy. You don’t die either. I’ll miss you too. I have one last question.”

“What?”

“Are you going to bring your pack?”

Rachel started. She had left it back where she had been talking with Corinne.

“Never mind,” Jason said, looking over his shoulder. “Your acolyte worshippers are grabbing it for you. Do you have a pen? You should really sign some autographs for them.”

Rachel banged her forehead with the heel of her hand. “You know what I still have? My camera! I’ve been meaning all winter to get a group shot.”

She rushed over to the acolytes, retrieved the camera from her pack, and hurried back to Jason, who stood waiting.

“You really are an optimist,” Jason said. “You realize you’ll have to get back home before you can develop any photos?”

“At least I can do it myself,” Rachel said. “I’ve done it lots. If this camera were digital, I’d probably be out of batteries by now.”

Jason helped her round everyone up for a group shot on the temple steps. Rachel showed Ulani how to work the camera. Jason explained that the device would capture and preserve the image, along with their souls. Rachel explained that he was joking. Once Ulani had taken a couple of shots, Rachel let Tark have a turn as photographer with Ulani in the picture. Then Rachel snapped an extra one herself for good measure.

After stowing her camera, Rachel gave Jason a final hug good-bye. And then they left by separate trails into the muggy jungle.

CHAPTER
4

E
ven with the expert guidance of the treefolk, Jason found jungle travel exhausting. In the gloom beneath the dense canopy the humid air stayed oppressively hot and still. Hidden by the ferny undergrowth, roots and creepers crisscrossed the uneven ground, ready to catch a toe or turn an ankle. At times the group would take to the trees, moving along massive limbs or traversing camouflaged bridges fashioned from vines.

The way proved challenging at its gentlest—without the guides the pathless journey would have been hopeless. The treefolk navigated around endless thickets of impenetrable vegetation without ever needing to pause or double back. They avoided numerous carnivorous plants: huge, quivering mouths on nimble stalks; squidlike, thorny tendrils that attacked from above; bulging bulbs poised to emit poisonous spores; and sticky mats ready to enfold the unwary. Dangerous snakes, centipedes, and spiders were identified and eluded. Twice, the treefolk waited silently with the group, high in a tree, while a jungle cat the size of a horse prowled down below, great bunches of muscle churning beneath a glossy pelt.

At times the abundant plant and animal life distracted Jason from the taxing terrain. With the mild winter waning, blossoms flourished throughout the jungle, from elaborate trombone-shaped flowers to glorious blooms on corkscrew vines to delicate orchids of infinite color and variety. Exotic birds with vibrant plumage and monkeys of all description populated the trees. After they happened across a large family of obese, blue-gray apes, the others had to drag Jason away. He would have contentedly watched the shaggy brutes toddle about on their stumpy legs for the rest of the afternoon.

The treefolk foraged most of the food for the group. Diverse fruit, rich nectar, savory mushrooms, peculiar nuts, and crunchy grubs made up the majority of their meals. Jason enjoyed the unusual diet and seldom craved hot food in spite of its absence.

One steamy morning Bahootsa, the thorn-encased leader of the eight treefolk escorts, announced that they were approaching the northern perimeter of the jungle, where imperial soldiers had been known to venture. When he suggested a break for the day to allow five of the treefolk to scout ahead, nobody complained.

They stopped beside a swift brook with banks of dense red clay. Trees and shrubs didn’t crowd the stream, which created a clearing of sorts—a rare sight in the heavily vegetated region.

Wandering along the brook away from the group, Jason drew the torivorian sword Galloran had given him. The elegant weapon felt lighter than it looked. He held the blade horizontally in front of his face, staring at the clear reflection of his eyes in the burnished metal, and saw Corinne approaching from behind. Jason turned.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Corinne asked.

Jason thought
she
was easily the most beautiful thing in sight.
The realization made him embarrassed, so he looked around, trying to appreciate what she meant. Tall palm trees with broad fronds screened the morning sun. Bright birds flapped and perched overhead. The aroma of tropical blossoms filled his nostrils. “It’s like paradise.”

Corinne smiled. “I meant the sword.” Her hand rested on the hilt of her matching blade.

“Right.” Jason swished it through the air, trying to look heroic. “It feels so light.”

“Mine too,” Corinne said. “But don’t worry. The sword will feel plenty heavy to your enemies. Father explained that the blades contain more mass than the wielder feels.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Jason said, holding the sword vertically. “At the Last Inn, Galloran slashed through helmets and armor like they were made of paper.”

“You should practice with the sword,” Corinne urged. “Get used to how it differs from other weapons. The shock of impact feels dampened. The blade swings light but strikes heavy.” She drew her sword and stabbed it through the trunk of a palm tree with an easy thrust. The tree was nearly a foot thick, but the sword penetrated the wood effortlessly, the polished blade protruding from the far side. Corinne withdrew the sword.

Jason swung his sword back and forth a few times, then approached the same trunk Corinne had stabbed and hacked at it with the edge. He swung hard and expected the blade to bite deep, but he was surprised when the sword passed clean through the tree without too much resistance. Jason skipped aside as the palm tree toppled in his direction.