Chasing the Prophecy (Beyonders) (93 page)

After the break they plodded onward. In some places they had to wade up to their chests or even swim a little. The gorge grew gloomier with every passing minute. Jason was glad for his seaweed.

While they forced their way forward against a waist-deep current, Jason noticed Corinne shivering. She hugged her elbows close, and her neck was pebbled with gooseflesh.

“Corinne is freezing,” Jason announced.

“I’ll be fine,” she replied hastily, unable to prevent her teeth from chattering. “The evening is warm.”

“Water saps heat faster than air,” Aram said. “I’m feeling it too.”

“We’ll pause to recover on the little island up ahead,” Farfalee said. She held up a hand. “Wait a moment. Stop and listen.” Everyone came to a halt.

“The falls,” Nia said.

Jason heard them too. “We’ve got to be close.”

Upon reaching the island, they could find no materials for a fire, but Jasher produced a dry blanket for Corinne to use after she had wrung out her clothes. Nia tirelessly rubbed Corinne’s arms, shoulders, back, and legs to help warm her.

Heg stood on the far side of the island beside Farfalee, gazing toward the unseen falls. “Do you suppose we’ll reach the falls tonight?” Heg asked.

“I expect so,” Farfalee said. “I think we should press on until we get there. The sooner we learn what the seer has to offer, the sooner Galloran can benefit from the information.”

“Aram, when will you grow?” Heg called.

“Not much longer.”

In a single quick movement Heg drew his dagger and stabbed Farfalee in the chest. Cupping his hand against the back of her neck, he caught her seed as it came free. As her body collapsed, Heg held the bloodstained dagger point to her amar.

“No!” Jasher cried, face contorting with shock and rage as he drew his sword.

Jason had been removing some dried meat from his pack. He remained in a crouch, petrified with astonishment.

“Everyone keep still!” Heg demanded. “It would be tragic to see such a long and illustrious life obliterated.”

Jasher restrained himself and gestured for the others to stand down. “What is the meaning of this?”

“We needed to have this conversation at some point before reaching the falls. Now seemed the opportune moment.”

“You’re not Heg,” Del accused. “You can’t be. What’s going on?”

“Correct,” Heg said with a smile. “I have been known by many names. Heg is the most recent. The drinling fought valiantly, by the way, but perished back at Gulba alongside his brethren.” Heg’s face suddenly transformed, and with it his voice. It was suddenly the face of Groddic. “In recent years I have most frequently been known as Groddic.”

Jason could hardly believe his eyes. He stood upright, his hand near his sword. He glanced at the others, trying to gauge how they wanted to deal with this.

“The Wanderer,” Jasher growled. “You’re Zokar’s shape-shifter!”

“I have been known by those names as well,” the Wanderer admitted. “None who associate those names with me ever live to tell the tale.”

“Groddic was the Wanderer all along?” Aram asked.

“Maldor was the only man alive to know my true identity,” the Wanderer said. “We became partners long ago. Out of necessity I get no credit, but I was instrumental in his rise to power. He brings me in to fix his messiest problems. Like this one.”

“We killed you,” Nia said weakly.

The Wanderer shook his head. “Hard to slay a shape-shifter. I can heal my wounds too quickly, rearrange my insides. I pretended to succumb to my injuries back at Gulba. The decision could have gone either way. I knew I could probably take you. I stayed down because you had horses. Had I revealed myself, some of you might have escaped and spoiled my secret. I suspected a better opportunity would come. And here we are.”

“You captured the eagle,” Corinne accused, her teeth no longer chattering.

The Wanderer grinned. “I became a jungle condor, a bird much larger than any eagle. I can reshape myself into any living thing I have touched. I have lived a long time, sampled many life-forms. Including Heg.”

Jason thought about his orantium sphere. He couldn’t throw it while the Wanderer held Farfalee’s seed. He pulled out his sword. Whatever happened, he needed to be ready.

“Why are we talking?” Jasher asked. “Have you an offer?”

“That depends what the amar of your wife is worth,” the Wanderer said casually. Keeping the knifepoint near the seed, he examined it speculatively. “I have never disposed of a sitting member of the Conclave.”

“If you harm her amar, you will face the eternal wrath of my people,” Jasher threatened.

“I have destroyed more than twenty amars,” the Wanderer bragged. “There can be no vengeance against secret deeds.”

“I cannot guess what terms you could possibly offer,” Jasher said.

“Her seed is the only concession I can grant,” the Wanderer said. “All Farfalee knew before she was cut off from her senses was that Heg stabbed her. She does not know it was the Wanderer. She did not know that Heg had any connection to Groddic. If you volunteer your amar to me, Jasher, I swear to safely plant her seed.”

“What about the others?” Jasher asked.

“The others know my identity. They must die. But your wife could live. If you fight me, she dies along with the rest of you. Make your choice.”

Jason held his breath, wondering which way Jasher would lean.

“I don’t trust you to keep your word,” Jasher said.

“I can alter my face at will,” the Wanderer said. “My only lasting identity is my honor. I am not lying. Knowing as little as your wife does, what does it cost me to spare her? I will keep her seed safe until this war is over, and then she will be planted. Who knows? She might emerge as the last of your people.”

“How do you propose to claim my amar?” Jasher asked.

“I won’t let you near me,” the Wanderer said. “Let Del execute you and toss me your seed.”

“I would give all my lives for her,” Jasher said. “But to do so now would be folly.”

The seedman flung a knife and rushed forward, his torivorian blade held high. The Wanderer dodged the thrown dagger and plunged his blade into the seed. Jason felt as if the blade had entered his own body. Casting the seed aside, the Wanderer barely had time to draw Heg’s sword before Jasher reached him.

The blades clashed furiously. Del and Nia followed Jasher, but hung back. The narrowness of the island made it hard for more than one attacker to engage the Wanderer unless they did so from the water.

Jason held his orantium globe ready, but there was no way to harm the Wanderer with Jasher in the way. He could hardly believe the Wanderer had stabbed the seed. That simple act had permanently extinguished lifetimes of existence. Another of his friends had fallen.

The Wanderer tried to stab Jasher with his dagger and lost his hand in the attempt. The severed hand dissolved into ashen dust. Jasher pressed a graceful attack, but the Wanderer defended himself with alarming skill. With a shake of his damaged arm, a new hand replaced the lost one.

“Watch the combat for an opening,” Aram whispered to Jason. “Groddic stands between us and the waterfall, but while we keep him busy, you could make a run for it. Only one of us needs to survive.”

“He can turn into anything he wants,” Jason said. “He’d catch me before I went far, whether or not he had to interrupt the fight. We have to beat him.”

“Are you about to grow?” Corinne asked Aram.

“Another minute or two,” Aram replied, stripping off his clothes. “I should get my armor ready.”

Jasher stabbed the Wanderer through the chest, the blade sinking deep, but had to lunge back to avoid a counterstroke. The fight went on. The Wanderer appeared indifferent to the injury.

“We have to cut him to pieces!” Jasher yelled. “No other wound will harm him.”

“Many have tried,” the Wanderer boasted with a laugh. “I’ve lost minor portions of myself over the years. More than enough remains to punish the lot of you.”

Del and Nia had splashed into the river to get behind the Wanderer, but the shape-shifter fell back to the tip of the island, preventing them from attacking on dry ground. To further complicate
matters, the Wanderer sprouted a heavy tail with a bony bulge at the end and used it to threaten the drinlings. Nia hit the bony knob with her sword, and the weapon flew from her hands.

“He has eyes in the back of his head!” Del exclaimed. “Literally!”

“I’m just getting started,” the Wanderer laughed.

With a muffled groan Aram started to grow.

The Wanderer’s tongue shot out from his mouth and coiled around Jasher’s neck. Jasher slashed through it, and the severed portion disintegrated, but the seedman was late blocking the next thrust, and the Wanderer impaled him.

Dropping to his knees, Jasher cut off the Wanderer’s legs at the thighs. The Wanderer thumped to the ground and lunged into the river. He did not surface. Del and Nia looked around intently, swords poised.

Still transfixed by the sword, eyes full of pain and frustration, Jasher looked back at Jason. “The amar can be resilient. We can’t know the extent of the damage. Plant her immediately. I . . . I still have—”

His sentence was interrupted when his amar dislodged, bouncing off the island and into the water. Jasher slumped lifelessly.

Upstream from everyone, the Wanderer arose from the river. Heg’s clothes were gone. His head looked like Groddic, but he was notably shorter. A flexible black shell covered his body like armor. He held no weapon.

Corinne leaped into the water and grabbed Jasher’s amar before it could float away. His transformation complete, Aram dashed along the island toward the Wanderer, his enormous sword in hand, his armor jingling.

Rushing upstream, Del reached the Wanderer first. The drinling hacked at his chest, but the black armor withstood the blow.
Clamping an arm against his side, the Wanderer trapped the blade; then spikes sprouted on his free fist, and he killed Del with a punch to the head. The Wanderer kept the captured sword.

Nia fell back, sloshing noisily. “That shell is tough!” she warned everyone.

“Titan crab,” the Wanderer said bemusedly. “I often reinforce my bones with the remarkable substance. The shell of the titan crab is the most durable biological material I have encountered. I’ll use excessive quantities of it inside of me to disguise my mass when I wish to appear smaller.”

“Are you doing that now?” Aram thundered. He waited at the end of the island. “You’re looking tinier.”

“Jasher robbed me of some mass,” the Wanderer agreed. “And it cost me some size to armor myself like this. Come test your sword against me, half man.”

“I think I’ll keep the high ground,” Aram replied.

“I’m between you and your destination,” the Wanderer replied. “I am in no hurry. Much like Heg, I require no sleep.”

Nia fell back to behind Aram and climbed onto the island. She retrieved Jasher’s torivorian sword.

“We have time as well,” Aram said. “I’ll not be baited.”

The Wanderer laughed. “Three of you have already perished. I could slay the rest of you a thousand ways.” He dropped beneath the water.

“To me,” Aram said.

Swords ready, Jason and Corinne dashed forward to stand beside Nia and the half giant. “I have orantium,” Jason said.

“Don’t use it too close to us,” Aram said. “Jasher had a globe too. Might be worth retrieving.” He crouched and slid Farfalee’s torivorian sword from its sheath. “When the shape-shifter surfaces, fall back and let me deal with him. I won’t let him win.”

Kneeling and scrabbling, Corinne searched for Jasher’s sphere. Jason scanned the surface of the river.

The Wanderer burst from the water and landed at the other end of the island. For a moment he had gill slits at his neck, but they were abruptly covered by the glossy black carapace. He still held Del’s sword.

Jason flung the orantium sphere low, at his feet. The Wanderer dove forward and caught it in an enlarged, softened hand. Rising to his knees, his hand returning to its normal size, the Wanderer threw the globe back at them.

Dropping his swords, Aram flung Corinne and Jason into the river. Nia dove forward, smothering the globe with her body as it struck the rocky ground.

Jason missed seeing the explosion. He heard it from under the water. When he surfaced, Nia was gone, and Aram lay at the edge of the island, one leg in the river, the side of his face blackened and caked with blood. The Wanderer charged him.

Jason heaved himself from the water. If the Wanderer killed Aram while the half giant was down, they were all dead. Jason got to his feet and gripped his sword as the Wanderer approached at full speed, eyes enraged. Jason had never felt more intimidated, but he stood his ground.

The Wanderer’s sword swept toward him. Leaning forward, Jason met the blade with a strong blow from his own. Despite the Wanderer’s sprint and the strength of his swing, he came to a skidding halt as his sword was knocked back by the impact. For a moment the Wanderer was unprotected. Advancing, Jason issued a quick counterstroke, narrowly missing but forcing the Wanderer to retreat a pace.

Their swords began to clash fiercely. Jason was mildly surprised to not be immediately cut down. He was mostly on the
defensive, slowly giving ground, but he managed to sneak in a few attack strokes. Without the torivorian sword, Jason doubted he could have resisted the heavy blows or swung quickly enough to match the Wanderer’s speed. Each slash he survived increased his confidence.

The combat felt different from how he had expected. There was no time to feel nervous. He knew he was fighting for his life, and to protect Aram and Corinne, but all he could focus on was blocking the next blow and watching for chances to attack. There was no time to plan or to give conscious thought to form or footwork. There was barely time to react, and occasionally a narrow opening to strike.

As the fight progressed, Jason felt less and less like he was holding his own. His wrists and elbows began to ache. The Wanderer was so quick and used moves and feints Jason had never encountered. Jason improvised defensive blows and dodged as best he could, but he began to feel sloppy, like he had lost his balance and was about to fall.