Chasing the Prophecy (Beyonders) (65 page)

Ferrin gazed steadily at Rachel. His expression hinted at the thoughts whirling behind his eyes. “You could be right.”

“Or what if Maldor found a way to deliver a false prophecy to the oracle?” Rachel went on. “The torivors can get into our minds. I know that firsthand. What if they blurred her visions? She could have been sincere and still have misled us.”

“Again you could be right,” Ferrin conceded.

“Is it too late to turn back?” Rachel whispered.

“Not for us,” Ferrin said. “Not for Galloran, either, if he believed this theory. But if this theory is true, we would lose all hope. Unless we can
prove
the oracle misled us, I’m not sure we could ever convince Galloran to turn back.”

“Do you think I’m right?” Rachel asked.

Tark kept his eyes on the ground.

Ferrin shrugged. “There is no way to be certain. Your theory would explain our reckless offensive. It would explain seeking impossible information from a dead prophet. It certainly is the sort of deception Maldor would invent, using our hope against us, giving us reasons to keep trying that only make us fail faster. It fits. But I’m not sure we could ever prove it. And you very well might be wrong. It is all speculation.”

“Let’s face the facts,” Rachel said. “Which seems more likely? That the oracle of Mianamon somehow misled us? Or that our suicidal battle plan will be saved by some inspiring words from a prophet who died thousands of years ago?”

Ferrin chuckled. “Remember when I advised you to embrace the truth when facing hard choices?”

“Yes,” Rachel said.

“I’m afraid I created a monster.”

“Because I’m wrong?”

“Because you’ve discovered a possibility that I missed. And I’m having trouble explaining it away.”

“We should bring this to Galloran,” Tark said nervously.

Ferrin rubbed his eyes. “Should we? This doubt has the potential to destroy his faith. I know mine is already faltering. Without proof, I don’t believe our theory is certain enough to sway Galloran from his course. We might only undermine his confidence.”

“How could we get proof?” Rachel asked.

“The oracle is dead,” Ferrin said. “If she betrayed us, she would have taken that secret to her grave. If Maldor got to her, none of that communication would have been in writing. The emperor would have used torivors for something so sensitive. If the oracle was fooled, even she had no idea. In either scenario we would find no proof at Mianamon. Maldor keeps his deepest secrets to himself. Only he or the torivors could provide the evidence we would need.”

“What if I went to him?” Rachel asked dully. “What if I accepted his offer to study with him? I could try to find out if this is all another trick.”

“There will be no evidence to uncover,” Ferrin said. “It’s all in his mind.”

“Maybe I could get him to slip up,” Rachel said. “He can be very candid in private. Maybe he would think I had no way to warn anyone. Maybe he would gloat. Maybe I could somehow get inside his mind and find the truth. Maybe I could ask him questions and study his reactions. Or open myself to the torivors and search their thoughts. Maybe I could warn you guys in time. Maybe we could try to warn Jason.”

“Such a feat would be next to impossible,” Ferrin said. “Even
if you were to succeed, I don’t see how you could get to Maldor in time to make any difference. Once this army crosses into the valley, we’ll have passed the point of no return.”

“So do we alert Galloran?” Tark asked.

“He is a very intelligent man,” Ferrin said. “Galloran may have already accepted that our tiny shred of hope might be based on bad information and therefore entirely unfounded. It might already be part of the measured risk that he is taking.”

“Had you thought this through already?” Rachel asked.

“Not to this extent,” Ferrin admitted. “And I am more skilled than most at sniffing out possible intrigues.”

“This is not just a risk Galloran is taking,” Tark said. “It is a risk all of Lyrian is taking along with him.”

Ferrin sighed. “I suppose it is our duty to make sure he has weighed this possibility.”

“I’ll second that,” Tark said.

“We might not be right,” Rachel fretted.

Ferrin began to fidget by repeatedly disconnecting his index finger and reattaching it. “A plausible theory is only a plausible theory. Possible is not the same as true. Heeding this conjecture could divert us from what was actually a valid prophecy.”

“But if we’re right?” Rachel pressed.

Ferrin looked away. “Then this war was over long ago.”

CHAPTER
18

N
obody had come to wake Jason yet, but the commotion could not be ignored. Heavy footsteps outside his cabin combined with shouted exchanges on deck had him rolling out of bed and tugging on his boots. He recognized panic and dismay in some of the exclamations. Jason strapped on his sword, picked up his shield, and bolted from the room.

Outside his cabin Jason nearly collided with Corinne, who was still buckling her sword belt. “What is it?” she asked.

“Not sure,” Jason answered.

Drake appeared beside them. He looked grim. “Good, you’re up. We have an unwelcome visitor.”

“Who?” Jason asked.

“Come see.”

Corinne and Jason followed Drake up to the deck. The sails hung limp. The
Valiant
had been stuck in a calm since yesterday morning, with only the sweeps and the faint currents to nudge the ship along.

The upside was that the same calm would be hampering their pursuers. Three days ago they had made a clean escape from
Windbreak Island, and they had not sighted an enemy ship since.

Except right now everyone was crowded to the starboard side of the deck, staring out at the water. Jason moved into position for a look. Corinne stayed beside him. She had not vomited since leaving Windbreak Island.

The night was still, the water nearly flat. A bright moon diminished the stars around it and left a gleaming trail on the tame ripples of the dark sea. Backlit by the moon, a tenebrous personage walked on the water toward the ship, holding a pair of swords upright, the silvery blades glinting in the moonlight.

“Oh no,” Jason whispered, his insides constricting as chills of terror tingled across his shoulders. Two swords meant it was here to duel somebody. What would they do? They needed Galloran for this.

“A lurker,” Corinne gasped.

The black figure did not hurry. Each measured footfall caused almost imperceptible ripples on the water, as if the sea were nothing more than a wide, shallow puddle.

Unable to look away, Jason stared in terror. The lurker was here to kill someone, and there was nobody to stop it. Anyone who intervened would die as well. Who had it come to kill? He tried to deny the awful certainty, but he knew. It had come to kill the person who needed to reach Darian. It had come for him. He was going to die.

Jason turned to Drake. “What do we do?” he asked quietly.

“We can’t outrun it,” Drake replied. “Probably not even if we had wind. You’ve seen how they can move when they choose. Unless we attack it, a torivor bearing swords can only duel one of us. Our only option might be to play its game.”

“I can feel its mind,” Corinne said. “It isn’t being clear about who it wants.”

Jason fingered the charm necklace Rachel had given him. Was there a way out of this? “What if we all hit it at once?”

Drake shook his head. “Then we open the door for it to kill us all. We can’t take that chance. Our errand is too crucial.”

As the torivor drew near to the ship, most of the drinlings fell back. Jason, Corinne, and Drake retreated to the far side of the deck, losing their view of the ominous visitor.

“Did you know they could walk on water?” Jason asked.

“I did not,” Drake replied. “Almost seems like cheating.”

“The lurker that followed me seemed to avoid water,” Jason remembered.

“It might have been trying to conceal the ability,” Drake guessed. “Running water?”

“Yeah, streams,” Jason said. “Think that makes a difference?”

Drake shrugged. “Perhaps. It’s having no trouble here.”

Jasher approached Corinne. “Can you discern who it wants?” he asked urgently.

She shook her head. “I’m trying. It keeps repeating that we’re going to fail. I can’t sense anything else.”

“Most likely targets?” Jasher asked generally.

“Us,” Drake replied. “Those of us who were sent by the oracle. If Maldor knows what he’s doing, Farfalee, Corinne, Jason, and Aram would top the list.”

Jasher gave a nod. “Farfalee already translated the instructions and marked up the maps, making her less essential. Aram is very important while we remain on the water. I don’t want to say too much. Could it still be selecting a target? I don’t want to risk influencing it.”

“It has nearly reached the ship,” warned a worried drinling.

“Do not engage!” Farfalee called. “We went over this back in Durna. A lurker bearing swords can only slay one of us, unless we
attack it. One of us may have to pay the toll for the rest of us to proceed.”

A chill ran up Jason’s back. It was him. He would have to pay the toll. Could he be wrong? Maybe he was wrong.

“Failie,” Drake said. “What about the worst-case scenario?”

Farfalee deferred to her husband. “Jasher?”

“We do what must be done,” he said.

“What worst-case scenario?” Jason wondered.

“If it wants somebody, we can’t lose,” Drake replied.

“It’s coming aboard,” a nervous drinling announced, retreating aft. An instant later the torivor came over the side of the boat and landed nimbly on the deck.

“Steady,” Aram grumbled. “Give it space. Don’t offer it an excuse to retaliate.”

Both swords held ready, the torivor turned in a slow circle. No moonlight reflected off its dark form. It was blacker than the sea, blacker than the space between the stars. It made no sound. The shadowy entity stopped turning and faced Jason.

Deep down, Jason had known it was here for him. From his first glimpse of the sinister figure striding upon the water, he had felt an instinctive certainty. His mouth was dry. He could feel his pulse in his hands and throat.

Jason had seen lurkers in action. He was dead. He wouldn’t last a second. There was no place to hide, no way to defend himself.

What if he jumped overboard? It could walk on the water. It would follow him. It would stab him to death in the sea.

Despite the hollow doom in his chest, Jason tried to hold himself together. An irrational part of him wanted to run, to hide, to scream. Glancing at his friends, he saw their concern, and he tried to take strength from their presence.

He was dead! There was nothing he could do. He knew he had been playing a dangerous game. He had theoretically known it might end this way. But part of him had resolutely expected to survive.

That was not going to be the case. Staring at the impassive torivor, Jason knew his life was over. It was almost as if it had already happened. What was he supposed to do? He tried to imagine how Galloran would handle the situation. Galloran would kill the lurker. But what if Galloran knew he couldn’t kill the lurker? He would face it with courage. Like a hero.

Jason straightened. Tears threatened, but he refused them. Since his death was unavoidable, he should try to face it with courage. The lurker might take his life, but it had no power over his dignity. He would try to die well. It would give him something to focus on. He wished he could stop his fingers from trembling.

What about the quest? There was not much to be done about that. This would have to be all right. He had no alternative. The others would have to go on without him, finish the mission. He had known at the start that he might lose his life. He had known that sacrifices were coming. Others had already died bravely. Why should he always be protected?

Hopefully, his death wouldn’t spoil the quest. Maybe his role had been to figure out how to destroy the Maumet. He had wondered why the oracle had placed an emphasis on him. He might have already done his part. The others would collect the information from Darian. It could all happen without him.

Jason tried to slow his breathing. He didn’t want to die! He tried to plan. He had practiced with his sword. Maybe if he gave it everything he had, he would survive for a few seconds. Or maybe he should just stand there and force the lurker to strike him down in cold blood. Why give it the satisfaction of pretending to fight?