Chasing the Prophecy (Beyonders) (39 page)

“It’s on a course to intercept us,” Jasher said. “Of all the foul luck!”

“Don’t scold luck,” Aram said. “Word of the debacle in Durna must have traveled more swiftly than we imagined.”

“Maybe from displacer to displacer,” Jason guessed.

Aram grunted. “By displacer or eagle or gossiping fishwives, the word is out, and imperial vessels are checking the sea lanes away from Durna.”

“There are only two other interceptors in the whole Inland Sea!” Nia complained. “What are the chances?”

“Does it matter?” Aram replied. “One has found us. How do we respond?”

“How we deal with the interceptor is most vital in the short term,” Drake agreed, approaching the group alongside Farfalee.
“How they found us so quickly may matter more as time goes by.”

“We razed their waterfront,” Aram said. “They started looking hard. They found us.”

“Too quickly,” Drake said.

“Weren’t you the one predicting disaster?” Nia asked Drake.

“Only because I hate being wrong,” Drake replied. “Personally, I would much rather beat the odds and live. I expected travail, but not such early detection.”

“I haven’t let my eagles fly since the day before our rendezvous,” Farfalee reminded everyone.

“Could our foes have anticipated our destination?” Jasher asked. “Doesn’t seem likely. Sailors have avoided the sight of Windbreak Island for generations. Who could have leaked our intentions?”

“Impossible to guess,” Drake said. “But whatever we do about our visible pursuers, we should be braced for more. Our enemies must have uncovered our plans. In situations like this, I’m slow to credit coincidence.”

“What do you suggest?” Farfalee asked Aram.

“The wind is from the southeast. It will benefit both ships. Given our current positions, I expect we could evade the other interceptor and win a race to Windbreak Island. But the other ship will never lose sight of us. We’ll be trapped between the abominable guardian and the oncoming interceptor.”

“What if we engage them?” Jasher asked.

“You’re familiar with our armaments,” Aram said. He was referring to the miniature catapults—three on each side—poised to launch burning pitch. “The enemy ship will be similarly equipped. Most likely we would roast each other, which would serve the emperor fine.”

Jason winced. The prospect of combat aboard flaming ships with no land in sight was not appealing.

“We don’t just need to survive this,” Drake muttered. “We need to make it through virtually unscathed, or the rest of our efforts will be hobbled.”

“What about our orantium?” Jason asked.

“It’s our biggest advantage,” Farfalee agreed.

Jasher scowled in thought. “The problem becomes how to get close enough to deliver the explosives without taking fire ourselves.”

“Would the catapults fling orantium farther than pitch?” Jason wondered.

Drake shook his head. “Probably not much farther.”

“What if we moved a catapult to the bow and went straight at them?” Farfalee asked.

Aram shrugged. “Unconventional. Might catch them off guard. We might get off a few spheres before they could adjust. Once they adjusted, the maneuver would swiftly bring us into close range.”

“Orantium impacting the deck of the other ship would cause damage,” Jasher said. “But orantium against the hull near the waterline would sink them.”

Aram chuckled. “That would require quite a shot.”

“We want to hit them before they can hit us,” Nia said. “And it would be best to strike the hull near the waterline. Would losing some dead weight help us sail faster?”

“Only a little,” Aram said.

“We should run, but let them get close,” Nia replied. “I have a plan.”

*  *  *

Jason stood at the stern beside Farfalee, watching the interceptor gradually gaining on them, sails billowing in the breeze. The sun would set before long.

“They don’t seem to suspect anything,” Jason said. “They’re trailing straight behind us.”

“They assume we’re incompetent sailors,” Farfalee replied. “Getting directly between us and the breeze gives them a chance to steal wind from our sails and gain even more quickly. Aram is deliberately doing nothing to counter the tactic. And he doesn’t have us rigged for maximum efficiency.”

“How is Corinne?”

Farfalee shook her head sadly. “Green as ever. I had hoped that the larger vessel and calmer water would reduce her stomach problems. Not so.”

Jason nodded. Journeying southward last year, Corinne had been seasick all the way from the Silver River to the Durnese River aboard a drinling longship. Not an hour after coming aboard the
Valiant
, she had fallen ill again. She was currently in a cabin belowdecks. When Jason had visited, she had been flat on the floor, perspiring and moaning, a bucket at her side. He hadn’t stayed long.

Behind the
Valiant
and off to one side, a school of kitefish leaped from the water, more than a dozen in total. They looked like a cross between barracuda and manta rays, long bodies sporting wide, winglike fins. The kitefish sprang into the wind, triangular fins spread wide, gliding smoothly upward, then hanging suspended before plunging back into the water.

With nets and rods, several of the drinlings worked round the clock catching kitefish and other sea life. Drake had explained that because of the high salt content, only select species of fish could survive in the Inland Sea.

“Would kitefish attack people?” Jason asked. They looked large enough.

“They mostly prey on other fish and birds,” Farfalee answered.

“You don’t have anything like them in the ocean?”

“Not really.”

“I wonder where they came from,” Jason said. “If the Inland Sea is too salty for most fish, how did they get here in the first place?”

“Wizards,” Farfalee answered. “Anciently, this sea was lifeless. Using Edomic, wizards engineered fish that could withstand the intense salinity. Several species of bioluminescent seaweed, as well. The introduction of fish to the Inland Sea allowed for settlements to develop. Without the tampering of ancient wizards, there would be little life or industry here today.”

“It must have been hard for the wizards to create new life,” Jason said. “Rachel told me that living things resist Edomic.”

“Which is why very few wizards ever produced even simple life-forms. Only the most learned and powerful could engineer life, and only four or five ever managed to spawn what we would consider intelligent life.”

“Can Maldor do it?” Jason wondered.

“If so, we have seen little evidence. His supporters are culled from preexisting races. It required some skill to evolve a botched race into the manglers, but it was adaptation, not true creation. Maldor is both powerful and talented, but probably not yet skilled enough to truly produce his own life-forms.”

“You knew some of the great wizards of Lyrian,” Jason said. “Like Eldrin.”

“I was not close to Eldrin,” Farfalee clarified. “But in my youth I spent some time in his presence. He was not a particularly kind man. He struck me as brilliant but abrupt, much more interested in his own plans and goals than in the people around him. All of his intelligent races have reason to dislike him. After all, at the same time he brought the Amar Kabal into being, he also designed our eventual extinction.”

“He made it harder to have kids over time,” Jason recalled.

Farfalee nodded. “We’ve grown less fertile. Only six children have been born to the Amar Kabal during the past thirty years. My son, Lodan, is one of them. I could hardly believe I was going to be a mother after lifetimes of trying. I may be one of the last. As a people we will endure only as long as our seeds stay healthy and keep getting planted. Drake is not the first of us to be reborn without a functional amar. Nor will he be the last.”

“Could somebody use Edomic to fix the way Eldrin made you?”

She shook her head. “Such expertise no longer exists. Even the most capable wizard from ages past would probably fall short of the task. Only Eldrin could have given our race the chance to endure, and he opted to limit our population, much as Zokar did with his creations.”

“I know your laws forbid it,” Jason said, “but what if you studied Edomic? You know, learned to repair yourselves.”

“Some among us have argued that we should study Edomic. My brother is one of them. Such thinking is foolishness. We were engineered to have little aptitude for Edomic. The most adept among us could never achieve enough power to justify the risk. Any of the Amar Kabal who tamper with Edomic risk fulfilling the prophecy that such activity will bring about our demise.”

“Labeling me a fool behind my back?” Drake asked from behind.

Farfalee turned to face him. “I’ve issued no labels that I would hesitate to repeat in front of you. You are a fool to toy with Edomic and to advocate its use to other seedfolk. You could bring about the end of our race for the lofty aspiration of igniting small fires without tinder.”

“I still normally need tinder,” Drake explained. “But I can manage the feat without flint.”

“Foolishness.”

“You speak Edomic better than I do.”

“That’s different,” Farfalee insisted. “I only speak to communicate. Never to command.”

Drake waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t worry, Failie. No prophecy would have included me. I’m a disgrace and an outcast.”

Farfalee shrugged. “Your words, not mine.”

He folded his arms. “Very well, sister, how would you label me?”

She looked at him seriously for a moment. “You are certainly an outcast. But so is my husband, and I have greater respect for no man living. You have made some poor choices, Drake, but here we stand. You keep correcting your course. Few men are as true to themselves and their instincts. I would say that you are much closer to being a hero than a disgrace.”

Drake looked away. Jason could tell her words had touched him. Regaining his composure, the seedman squinted at the slowly gaining interceptor. “This should time out well.”

“Our pursuers will be in position before nightfall,” Farfalee said.

“Think we can sink it?” Jason asked.

“Aram likes the plan,” Drake replied. “As does Heg. As do I. Bat volunteered to do the honors.”

The plan was simple. With night falling, and the interceptor directly behind them, the crew of the
Valiant
would lighten the load slightly by throwing some nonessentials overboard. A drinling would jump into the sea along with the junk. He would bring a pair of orantium globes. The
Valiant
would hold a steady course, which would hopefully lure the pursuing ship right past the drinling in the water.

“Will we circle back for him?” Farfalee asked. She and Corinne had spent more days with Bat than the rest of them.

“It has been a matter of debate,” Drake said. “Seems heartless
to leave him. But we’d have to go against the wind. It could cost a lot of time. Bat claims he can make it to shore on his own. I don’t know. Tireless or not, we’re far from land.”

Farfalee nodded. “If you’re right about the empire learning our plans, we can ill afford to lose time.”

“Hence the debate,” Drake said. “Heg and Nia insist we should leave the drinling behind. Aram seems to be leaning their way. Jasher and I would rather return for him.”

Looking out at the water, Jason envisioned himself stranded at sea, alone, no boat or land in sight, gentle swells rising and falling around him. He could think of few predicaments more intimidating. Clearing his throat, he asked, “What are the chances he could make it?”

Drake shrugged. “He’ll go over the side with plenty of debris to help him keep afloat. Not quite a raft, but enough to rest on. Unlike us, he can drink seawater. He would bring provisions. If he can keep his bearings and survive, Bat might reach land within a week or two.”

“Or he might die miserably and alone,” Farfalee added. “Without an imminent threat, it strikes me as disgraceful to abandon a hero who risks his life to save the rest of us.”

“What does Bat want?” Jason wondered.

“He insists that we shouldn’t return for him,” Drake said. “Claims it will jeopardize the mission and belittle his sacrifice.”

“Bat has to say that,” Farfalee sighed. “Drinlings were created to sacrifice in battle. The concept might even be supported by their physiology at an instinctive level. They view death in combat as the glorious fulfillment of their destinies. Eldrin taught them that they are expendable, and they believe it. Unless blatantly mistreated, drinlings will readily suffer and die for the good of their allies.”

Drake nodded. “The prospect of the rest of us placing the
mission at risk to come to his rescue is utterly foreign to him. The group does not bend for the individual.”

“If that’s how he’s been trained to feel,” Jason said, “wouldn’t we be taking advantage of him?”

Farfalee huffed softly. “If the imperials have learned our destination, returning for Bat truly could endanger the mission. For the good of all Lyrian, our mission must succeed. By design or not, Bat sincerely would not want us to go back for him. And he truly does stand a chance of surviving on his own.”

“My sister the pragmatist,” Drake said. “Should I tell Nia and Heg that we’re willing to abandon Bat?”

Farfalee gave a reluctant nod. “If they recommend it, and Bat is willing, our need is too great to defy them.”

“I’ll convey our consent.” Drake walked away.

Farfalee turned to Jason. “How do you feel about that decision?”

“I don’t know. It kind of feels wrong.”

“It does. But is it necessary?”

Jason folded his arms and scrunched his brow. “Maybe. Probably. What an awful choice.”

She stared at the pursuing ship. “I doubt either decision could feel right. We can risk Bat’s life, or we can risk the mission. The oracle warned that Lyrian must be purchased with sacrifice. I fear Bat may be one of many to come.”

“What if he fails?”

“We will be even less able to go back for him. If his failure reveals our intentions, we probably won’t be able to succeed with a similar ploy. If his failure goes unnoticed, we’ll have to try again, perhaps involving the skiff or one of the launches.”