by Brandon Mull
“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.”
Jason turned and watched Drake speaking with Nia, Heg, and Bat. Nia and Heg looked satisfied, and Bat looked overjoyed. The bravery of his smile left Jason resisting tears.
“How could we possibly show Bat how much we appreciate him?” Jason asked.
“We succeed,” Farfalee replied.
* * *
By the time the glowing streaks of sunset began to fade from the western clouds, Bat stood ready to jump. Several crates, barrels, and pallets had been collected to heave over the side with him. The little raft of planks he would use as a personal flotation device was larger than a paddleboard, and some impromptu carpentry had made it quite stable. He had food, gear for catching fish, and an improvised snorkel. And of course he had the two orantium spheres.
“Stay low,” Jasher cautioned. “Keep wreckage between yourself and the ship. Use the breathing tube to stay submerged whenever possible.”
“Don’t worry,” Bat said. “They won’t see me. I’ll get close enough not to miss. They’ll drown without knowing what happened.”
“We can’t have everyone crowding the rear of the ship to watch,” Aram said. “Certainly not until after Bat strikes. Dump your debris, then man your stations. Jason has been near the stern all day. He and Jasher will serve as lookouts. Until the explosion we can’t display excessive interest.”
“It’s time,” Farfalee said. “Swim safely, Bat. We are all indebted.”
Bat grinned. “Don’t thank me yet.”
Heg drew near and whispered something to Bat, who nodded and whispered something back. The two men gripped forearms. Bat looked eager.
“Positions,” Aram ordered, his voice deeper now that he had grown. Drinlings moved to both sides of the ship. Bat got ready, his floatation device in hand.
Jasher and Jason strolled to the rear of the ship.
Aram gave the command. Crates, barrels, pallets, and other wooden fragments went over the side along with Bat. The ship was advancing at a good pace, thanks to the steady breeze, so it did not take long before Jason saw the debris trailing on the water. He tried not to stare at Bat’s flotation device.
The interceptor was closer than ever, not more than fifteen ship lengths behind. It would overtake the flotsam before long.
Jasher raised the spyglass, directing it at the ship, not the debris. “We’re being pursued by the Avenger,” he reported. “I can finally make out the name. Have a look.”
Jason accepted the spyglass. “Do we seem too interested?”
“We’ve been gazing at them all day. You in particular. They’ve almost caught us. It would seem more peculiar if we didn’t watch.”
Jason peered into the eyepiece. The light of the dying sunset barely let him read the name of the ship. “Hopefully, they won’t avenge anything today.”
“They think they have us,” Jasher said. “They’ve gained on us throughout the day. Lightening our load made us look desperate. They’re focused on us, not the debris. They’re prepping for battle. Making sure the pitch is hot, the catapults ready. Archers are stringing bows. Boarding parties are assembling. The captain is waiting to see what maneuver we’ll try.”
Once he lowered the spyglass, Jason had trouble spotting the debris. “Bat is closer to them than to us.”
“If only he can fight the currents enough to stay in their path,” Jasher said. “He just has to get close.”
“What if they catch him when they abandon ship?” Jason worried.
“It’s an additional risk he’s taking,” Jasher said. “If the Avenger founders, it should sail well past Bat before anybody gets in the water. He can keep low and swim tirelessly. They’ll have many more pressing matters to worry about. I like his chances of avoiding our enemies. Making it to land should prove the tougher test. Watch it unfold through the spyglass.”
Jason did as he was told. He could see some activity on the deck. A man was climbing the rigging. He and Jasher watched in silence.
“Concentrate on the right side,” Jasher advised.
“You see him?”
“I think so. He’s close. Almost too close. Get ready for it.”
The explosion centered just above the waterline at the right front side of the ship. The bright flash sent wooden fragments flying. The percussive boom roared a moment later. Smoke bloomed upward. Once the view cleared, Jason saw a cave-sized hole.
“Yes!” Jason exclaimed. “He got—”
He was interrupted by a second explosion just above the waterline on the right side of the Avenger. He was viewing the explosion in profile, so it was a bad angle from which to appreciate the damage, but judging from the position of the detonation, the hole would have to be similar to the first.
Raucous cheering broke out aboard the Valiant. All pretenses abandoned, just about everyone crowded the stern, whooping and jeering and clapping. Bat’s name was chanted in unison.
It was impossible to see what exactly had happened to Bat, but the listing Avenger must have sailed well past him before it really started to wallow. Aram ordered a few drinlings back to their stations. As twilight deepened, everyone else stayed put to watch the Avenger sink.
CHAPTER 11
ADVICE
Fingering the strand of charms around her neck, Rachel strolled along a crunchy trail of white pebbles. Sparkling footpaths wound all about the courtyard, past blooming flower beds, clipped grass, colorful shrubs, and leafy creepers ascending trellised walls. Fluffy springtime blossoms made the trees pink and purple. The aroma of nectar enriched the air, to the evident delight of fat, humming bees.
“Mind if I intrude?” asked a friendly voice.
Rachel turned and found Ferrin approaching. Since the day before her disturbing dream, the displacer had been away with Nedwin, delivering messages for Galloran. Rachel glanced over at the gazebo, where Tark and Io sat together. They were always near enough to keep an eye on her, but they tended to keep their distance lately. In some ways she suspected her spooky new outfit worked too well, intimidating even her friends. Tark looked at her inquisitively, as if wondering whether she desired his intervention. She waved a hand to dismiss his concerns.
Ferrin caught the gesture. “Thank you for restraining your attack dogs.”
Rachel smiled. “They’ve been extra vigilant ever since . . . Did you hear?”
“Lurkers broke into your room and entered your dreams.”
She nodded, a hand on her necklace. “I should have kept wearing this.”
Ferrin shrugged. “Had this attempt failed, Maldor would have found some other way to contact you. If he was willing to order torivors into a city, he really wanted that message to reach you.”
“Or he really wanted to scour my brain. He learned about the prophecy.”
“I was informed. How did Galloran react?”
Rachel wrung her hands. “He didn’t want me to worry. He told me Maldor already knew that we planned to attack. He told me Maldor would have learned the prophecy one way or another. He told me the lurkers could just as easily have searched any of our minds.”
“But that response doesn’t satisfy you.”
“What if I blew it?” Rachel asked softly. “What if I already ruined our chance to fulfill the prophecy? What if I got Jason and Corinne killed?”
Ferrin shook his head. “It wasn’t your—”
“I could have worn the charms,” Rachel said. “But I was tired of them. I was relieved to take a break from wearing them, since the city was supposed to be free from lurkers.
If I had worn the charms, I could have delayed Maldor from learning the prophecy. What if that would have made all the difference? What if we’ve already lost our chance to succeed?”
Ferrin watched her, arms folded, expression serious.
“What?” she finally asked.
“Maldor is very good at what he does.”
“Getting information?”
“That too. But I meant destroying confidence. Spreading fear and uncertainty. What offer did he make you?”
A line appeared between Rachel’s eyebrows. “Galloran promised not to—”
“Nobody told me about an offer,” Ferrin said. “I just know how the emperor operates.”
Rachel glanced at Tark and Io in the gazebo. She didn’t want anyone to overhear. She had only shared this with Galloran. “Maldor promised that if I went to train with him, he would let me save ten of my friends. Any ten I choose.”
“Do you believe him?”
“Should I?”
Ferrin sighed deeply. “I worked with Maldor for a long time. Immunity for ten people is the most generous offer I have ever heard him make. He really wants you, which probably means he would fulfill his promise.”
“You think?”
“Just make sure you grasp the ramifications. Do you suppose a man like Galloran would accept immunity? He turned down Harthenham. Most of the people you want to protect would refuse the protection.”
“Would you accept it?” Rachel asked.
“Me? Full immunity? Better if we don’t discuss it.”
Rachel lowered her voice to her quietest whisper. “Maldor seems so confident he’ll win. I’m not sure he’s wrong.”
Ferrin almost replied, then stopped and indicated a slightly curved stone bench. “Sit down.” They sat together. A fuzzy bee circled Rachel before zipping away into some nearby shrubs. Ferrin leaned close to her. “Maldor will probably win.”
“Comforting,” Rachel muttered.
“I’m not trying to comfort you,” Ferrin said gravely. “Not right now. I wish I could console you with soothing lies, but I think what you need at the moment is the truth. The oracle told us that Maldor will almost certainly emerge victorious. We have a minute chance of stopping him. Such a small chance that it almost certainly will not happen.”