Chasing the Prophecy (Beyonders) (36 page)

She soars like a swift pirate

With a huge peg leg

The plank had a doodle of a pirate beside the haiku. It was one of Rachel’s favorite treasures.

“Hi, Sharmaine,” Rachel said. “I was trying to get their attention.”

“Rock through the window would do it,” Sharmaine replied curtly. She wasn’t showing any recognition. If anything, she seemed wary.

Rachel glanced at the rock in her hand. “They couldn’t hear me.”

Sharmaine gave a cautious nod. “Let’s try the front door.”

Rachel almost protested, but decided against it. She followed Sharmaine to the front door. “You remember me, right?” Rachel checked.

“Sure,” Sharmaine said vaguely. She knocked on the door. It made a sound! A normal knocking sound, just how it should.

A moment later her dad answered. “Hi, Sharmaine. Who’s your friend?” He was looking at Rachel with blank courtesy.

She had seen her father show that expression to other people. But never her. He knew her. He loved her.

“It’s me,” Rachel said meekly.

“Have we met?” he asked, still with the neutral politeness appropriate for a new acquaintance.

“I’m your daughter,” Rachel said, insulted that she had to spell it out.

Her dad looked to Sharmaine, who shrugged. “I found her outside your window holding a rock.”

Dad returned his gaze patiently to Rachel. “Our only daughter died years ago,” he explained. “Did you know her?”

Rachel suddenly realized that she had been away in Lyrian for a long time. It all came rushing back. She must look older or different. “It’s me, Dad. I’m just older. I’m back.” Tears welled in her eyes.

Her dad glanced at Sharmaine. The glance communicated that they clearly had a situation on their hands.

“I’m not crazy,” Rachel blurted, wiping at her eyes. “Ask me anything; I can prove it.”

“Where do you live?” he asked gently.

“Here,” Rachel answered in a small voice. “I live here.”

“Why don’t you come inside and sit down?” her dad offered, as he would to a needy stranger.

Rachel turned to Sharmaine. “You remember me, right? You gave me the haiku? About the pole vaulting?”

Sharmaine held out a painted plank. “If you want a haiku, I can spare this one.” Rachel accepted the wooden rectangle. Sharmaine looked at Rachel’s dad. “You okay?”

“I’ve got this,” he replied. “Thanks, Sharmaine.”

Sharmaine turned away, and Rachel followed her dad inside. He escorted Rachel to the living room and offered her a seat on the sofa. Her mom was no longer present.

“Make yourself comfortable,” her dad said. “I’ll be back in a second.”

Rachel took a seat, the painted plank in her hands. Turning it over, she saw little gravestones doodled at either side of a haiku.

Most loving parents

Try to dodge conversations

With their dead children

The words struck Rachel like a physical blow. Fearful chills made her skin prickle. What was going on?

She stood up, surveying the familiar room. The correct pictures hung on the walls. The correct knickknacks rested on the mantel. The scent of herbal tea wafted up from half-empty mugs.

“Rachel?”

Startled, Rachel spun to face her mother, who had just entered the room. “Mom?”

Her mom cocked her head sympathetically. “No, dear, I’m not your mother.”

Exasperated, Rachel pointed to a nearby picture of the
three of them. “Look at the picture, Mom. Does the girl in it look familiar?”

“She was our daughter,” her mom sighed serenely. “You’re not her, dear.”

“I am her, Mom. What’s the problem? Do I look that different? Ask me anything.”

Rachel’s mom looked her straight in the eye, her expression becoming stern. “You are not our daughter. Our little girl has vanished forever. It’s time you confront the truth. Merrill and I have moved on. You should as well.”

Rachel suddenly recognized that her mom’s eyes were completely black. Thinking back, she seemed to recall that her dad’s were black too, and Sharmaine’s as well, although she had failed to notice at the time.

“You’re not my mom,” Rachel whispered.

The woman smiled. “That’s right. Now you’re getting it. Somebody here has been looking for you.”

Maldor stepped around the corner into the living room. Rachel had never seen him, but she knew his identity as surely as she knew that she must be dreaming.

“I’ll leave you two to talk things over,” her dream mom said, stepping out of the room.

Rachel faced Maldor, glaring into his black eyes. “This is a dream.”

“We need to talk.”

Rachel stared at him. “It feels real. I feel awake. Is that really you?”

“As close as we can manage at present. Have a seat.”

“I’ll stay standing.”

“No need for hostility. I’m here as a courtesy.”

The statement made Rachel furious. “Get out of my house!
Get out of my mind! You weren’t invited! You don’t belong here!”

Maldor held up his hands soothingly. “Don’t lose your temper. I’ll leave soon. First, we must talk. Your friends are going to die, Rachel. All of them. Soon. Unless you save them. I just wanted to give you that chance.”

Concern for her friends warred against her rage at the mental intrusion. After a moment, Rachel bridled her anger enough to respond rationally. “You’re not here to help them. Or me. You’re here to mess with my mind. How do I get rid of you?”

“Don’t be so hasty,” Maldor warned. “This illusion took considerable time and effort to establish. You should hear my proposal.”

Rachel took a deep breath. What if she attacked him? What if she used Edomic to set the sofa on fire and hurl it at him?

“You can’t hurt me here,” Maldor said. “I can make this much less pleasant, if you wish.”

“Don’t read my thoughts,” Rachel snapped.

“They’re hard to miss,” Maldor apologized. “After all, this is your mind.”

“Doesn’t feel like it.”

“I imagine not. You have so little control. I could teach you to lock out incursions such as this.”

Rachel frowned. “That’s a class I might sign up for.”

“Shall we talk?” Maldor said, sitting down. “Tark or Io could get badly hurt if this takes too long. The more quickly we converse, the safer they’ll be.”

“Fine. All right.” Rachel sat down on the sofa. She had never felt so conscious in a dream before. So alert and lucid. It seemed no different from full consciousness.

“Where did Jason go?” Maldor inquired.

Rachel felt panic. She tried not to think about him.

“Windbreak Island? Interesting. That explains much. I don’t see how he’ll survive. What guidance did you receive at Mianamon?”

“Get out of here!” Rachel yelled.

Maldor snapped his fingers. The sofa folded up around her, trapping her in a cushioned embrace. She remained in a seated position, cocooned from her ankles to her mouth. She could only manage muffled protests. She tried to will the sofa to release her, but it refused to budge.

“Hmmm,” Maldor mused. “Fascinating prophecy. I suppose there must be some minuscule chance for his survival. This is very useful information, by the way. Do you think your quests could possibly work? An attack on Felrook would be suicide for all involved. If I permit you to speak, will you be civil? Blink once for yes, twice for no.”

Angry and frustrated, Rachel blinked once.

The cushions unfolded from her mouth. “We’ll beat you.”

Maldor laughed. “She glimpsed one way, Rachel. The oracle glimpsed a single unlikely chain of coincidences that could stop me amid countless ways to fail. She neglected to offer many specifics. Now that I know what you are trying to do, it will be that much easier to stop you. Thank you, Rachel, for this priceless intelligence.”

Rachel squirmed. The sofa held her fast. She wanted to shout with frustration. Hot tears threatened.

“Don’t blame yourself,” Maldor urged. “I could have acquired this knowledge by a hundred different methods. Not that it matters. The oracle set you on a path that will require more than a miracle. It will require a prolonged series of miracles. Darian the Pyromancer is dead, Rachel. He has been dead for eons. Which Jason and his comrades will never learn, because they will perish
at Windbreak Island. I won’t need to twitch a finger. The Maumet will see to their fate. And Galloran will undoubtedly die leading his foolhardy siege. There is no question.”

Maldor leaned forward. He spoke softly. “That prophecy is one of the nicest gifts anyone has ever given me. It brings me considerable peace of mind. I had worried that it might be dangerous. According to the oracle, somewhere in the future awaits some remote possibility of me coming to harm. I’ll be sure to defend against that implausible eventuality. Thanks to the prophetess, I now know where to focus my efforts.”

Maldor snapped his fingers, as if concerned Rachel’s attention might be straying. “Look at the situation with a practical eye. The prophecy will put all of my most capable enemies into extremely vulnerable positions years before I could have managed it on my own. I will win my war twenty years earlier than expected, all thanks to the dying words of a withered schemer.”

Rachel had no response. She wanted to weep. She wanted to scream.

“You’re concerned about your friends,” Maldor said tenderly. “I’m here to make an offer. I’ve thought about you in the months since you escaped my servants at the Last Inn. With the passage of time, I’ve grown increasingly certain that I wish to train you.”

“Never,” Rachel gasped.

Maldor smiled. “Don’t be so quick to deny me. At least hear the proposal, so you can understand who your refusal will be killing. Look at this through my eyes. Soon I will have subdued all of Lyrian. There will always be decisions to make, a vast empire to manage. Much of that will become tedium, and most of it can be handled by underlings. Once Lyrian is conquered, I can see myself regretting not having an adept like you to train. Edomic talent tends to be hereditary. So many gifted bloodlines have failed that
you may represent my last opportunity to pass my knowledge forward to a worthy apprentice.”

“I don’t want it,” Rachel said.

“No need to play games. No need for posturing. No need to act brave or defiant. We’re alone here. You may not want to employ Edomic in all the same ways I use it, but you crave the knowledge. You’ve been working hard to attain greater knowledge ever since you discovered your talent. I can feel how you relish the power, how you exult in it. I can feel how you yearn to gain enough mastery to destroy me. I will install means to prevent you, but you’re resourceful. In time you may find a way to thwart my precautions and overthrow me. You’ll certainly have a better chance than any of your comrades.”

Rachel closed her eyes. She tried to wall her thoughts away from him, to close her intellect to his scrutiny.

“We’re in here together,” Maldor chuckled. “It’s too late to deny me admittance. Listen to my offer, and I will depart. I want you to come to me voluntarily. If you do, I will grant absolute, unconditional mercy to ten of your friends. Any you choose to name. Jason, Galloran, Corinne, even Ferrin. All are eligible. Not only will I spare them, but I will ensure that they live out their days in peace and comfort. If Jason so desires, I will even send him back to the Beyond. Perhaps he will have the good sense to stay put this time. Do not respond now. Mull it over, take a few days—weeks, even—without my presence to distract you. Think hard. You cannot imagine all you will learn, all you will achieve, all you will become. Most would offer me anything for this chance. I extend the opportunity to you freely, with generous promises attached. Respond by coming to me. Or by not coming to me. The choice is yours.”

Maldor stood. The sofa unfurled back to its normal shape.
Maldor looked around. “You had a pleasant home. I can see the appeal. But your parents have moved on. So should you. Farewell, until we meet again.”

Maldor walked out of the room.

Rachel’s dream mom entered with a tray of cookies. Rachel eyed her numbly. Her dream mom set the tray in front of Rachel on the coffee table. “There we go. Peanut butter, your favorite.”

“You’re not my mom,” Rachel said.

The black eyes betrayed no emotion. “Of course not. Have a cookie.”

“I want to wake up.”

Her dream mom was walking out of the room. “Then have a cookie.”

Rachel was left alone. She selected a peanut butter cookie and held it up. The texture was as she remembered. It was still slightly warm from the oven. She sniffed it suspiciously. The cookie smelled delicious.

She took a bite. Just as the flavor started to hit her tongue, Rachel opened her eyes. She was in her room at Trensicourt, on her wide, soft bed. It had not felt like waking up. Not a bit. Her mind felt equally conscious as when she had sniffed the cookie. There had been no transition. Her eyes had been closed. Now they were open.

By the moonlight spilling through the window, Rachel could see a pair of lurkers beside her bed, like human shadows made three-dimensional. Reflecting none of the silvery glow, the figures were easily the darkest shade of black in the room, the kind of darkness found only in the most obscure reaches of space, beyond all starlight.

Her first impulse was to scream. But Tark and Io were in the next room. If she cried out, they would run in, attack the lurkers,
and die. Clenching her teeth, she held the scream inside.

The lurkers were here. They had been here for some time, all during her dream, at least. As far as she understood, they would show no aggression unless provoked. She thought about her charm necklace, the one that helped keep lurkers out of her mind. It was packed away. Lurkers weren’t supposed to be a threat in a city.

She stared at the motionless duo. Jason had told her that standing up to his lurker had helped. She should show no fear. Maybe she could learn something about them. Her hands were clenched into fists, her nails biting into her palms. She tried to calm herself and focus her thoughts.

Why did you invade my dreams?
Rachel asked with her mind.

The lurkers remained perfectly still.
We are messengers,
the lurker on the right replied.