by Brandon Mull
“The treefolk have never had more reason to care for matters outside their borders,” Galloran said. “Through Esmira in the past, and now through Ulani, they have been kept informed of the relevance of our plight. Even so, four hundred is only token support. They could make a much more significant difference if they dared.”
Nollin nodded. “We’re fortunate to have any of their aid. I had time to observe them. They may not be quite as effective outside their native jungles, but the treefolk are serious warriors.”
“They have been strengthened by hardship,” Nedwin said. “They were invaded and nearly wiped out by Zokar. And deep in the heart of the jungle they must contend with fearsome predators that most of us can scarcely imagine.”
“My business is complete,” Galloran said. “Ferrin has some news.”
All eyes turned to the displacer.
“Jason has done an excellent job of keeping my ear away from delicate conversations. A prudent practice, given my background, although the precaution limits our knowledge of how their mission is progressing.”
“We know they hijacked an interceptor at Durna,” Nollin remarked. “The empire is astir over it.”
“We know more than that,” Ferrin said. “I overheard a conversation today. I believe my ear was packed away in Jason’s cabin aboard the ship, less bundled than normally, and he forgot that I might overhear as he entered conversing with Drake.”
“What’s the news?” Rachel asked.
“Jason and the others have reached Windbreak Island. They have confronted the Maumet, losing a number of drinlings in the process. They found the guardian virtually invincible, but I take heart that some of them survived the encounter. They are currently developing strategies to engage it.”
“How does the timing of their progress synchronize with our attack?” Nollin asked.
“We have to trust the oracle,” Galloran said. “She informed us when to begin our assignments. We complied. How long their quest takes will depend on the hardships they face and how far they must travel to reach the abode of Darian the Seer.”
“Unknowable variables,” Nollin agreed.
Galloran stood. “We all have arrangements to make for tomorrow. I will counsel with Nedwin, Nollin, and Kerick tonight after Nedwin is officially appointed regent. Thank you all for your service.”
Rachel replaced her wide-brimmed hat and arranged the dark veil over her face. She left the room behind Nedwin and walked down the stairs. Was she really about to go to war? With real battles? How much would the others be counting on her? Galloran often talked like her Edomic skills would provide them with an important advantage. Even though she had built up her endurance, she could only make a limited number of people freeze up or flop to the ground at a time. There were only so many flaming tables she could throw before running out of juice.
As panic threatened to unbalance her, she told herself to take it one step at a time. War was coming. It would be ugly. But it wouldn’t start today. There was no point in losing her grip yet. What could she do right now? What preparations did she have to make? Not many. She had chosen her horse. Her gear would be prepped by others. She supposed she should go practice her Edomic.
At the bottom of the stairs, the group dispersed in different directions. Rachel noticed Nedwin walking down a lonely corridor, head slightly bowed. He staggered a little before disappearing around a corner.
“I was glad to hear Lord Jason remains alive,” Tark was telling Io. “Not surprised, mind you. It will take more than a Maumet to stop him, mark my words. There’s more to him than greets the eye. He’ll find a way to enter the Celestine Library or I’ve never touched a sousalax.”
“Wait here for me,” Rachel said.
“Here?” Io questioned.
“I’ll be quick,” Rachel promised. “I just remembered something I need to ask Nedwin in private.”
Tark folded his arms. “Begging your pardon, milady, you shouldn’t go wandering off without—”
“We’re in the castle. I’ll only be a moment.” She was already hurrying after Nedwin. She reached the bend in the hall in time to see him proceeding up a stairwell. She didn’t get much of a look, but he no longer appeared particularly despondent. Maybe she was jumping at shadows, imagining how she would feel if she learned she would have to govern an entire kingdom.
Still she followed him, just in case. At the top of the stairs she found a quiet hall. Nedwin sat on the floor, back to the wall, elbows on his knees, both hands in his unruly red hair.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
He glanced over at her. “I heard someone following me. I thought it was you. I just need some time. You should go make ready for tomorrow.”
“I’m ready,” Rachel said. “I don’t mean to intrude.”
He lowered his hands, placing both palms on one knee. “I appreciate the interest. You’re kind.”
Rachel assumed that was the closest she would get to an invitation. She walked toward him. “Are you worried about serving as regent?”
He exhaled sharply. She thought the gust was intended as a chuckle. “An honor I did not seek and which I do not desire. Did you know that I have almost no fears left in me?”
“You’re definitely not afraid of heights.”
“I don’t fear fire or water or starvation. I’m not afraid to fight. I fear no man or beast. I fear no illness. No punishment. No torture. I’m not afraid to die, Rachel. Part of me would welcome the release.”
“You shouldn’t talk that way,” Rachel said.
He ignored the comment. “I have troubling dreams. I dislike my dreams. Aside from the tricks my mind plays when I sleep, I only have two fears left. Would you like to know what they are?”
“Okay.”
“I’m afraid for King Galloran. I want to keep him safe. And I’m afraid of disappointing King Galloran. This opportunity to serve as regent will separate me from him. I will not be able to protect him. And I will be in a position to fail him.”
“I’m sure you’ll do great.”
“I’m glad one of us feels confident. Rachel, through dark years that I would prefer to forget, I clung to the idea of Galloran. Trensicourt was not worth all I suffered. Not even freedom from tyranny was worth it. But that man was worth all I endured and more. I failed him when he was captured. I only survived in the hope that Galloran would need me. And he does. But I won’t be with him.”
“I’ll be with him,” Rachel said. “I’ll keep him safe.”
His eyes snapped to hers. “Swear it.”
Rachel swallowed dryly. Suddenly she had to confront how far she would go in order to fulfill her words. The thought of her protecting Galloran seemed almost silly. He was the best swordsman in Lyrian. But it obviously mattered to Nedwin. He actually seemed to think her protection could make a difference. She imagined a soldier attacking Galloran from behind. Would she allow that? “I promise, Nedwin. I promise to watch over him. I love him too. I’ll die to protect him if necessary.”
His posture relaxed a little. “That is good to hear. Yours is no small gift, and he will keep you close.” Nedwin sighed. “We have come upon hard times if I am the man he selects as regent.”
“He couldn’t choose anyone more loyal,” Rachel argued.
“But he could find many more polished, more schooled in politics. Less scarred. Less damaged. Sometimes I can feel my mind unraveling. Once I was something of a social creature. No longer. I prefer solitude. I’m a good scout. Great, even. I don’t expect I’ll make much of a regent.”
“But you’ll do it?”
“If I refuse, I’ll have failed him already. I would give anything not to fail him.”
“You’ll have help from Nollin and Nicholas,” Rachel reminded him.
“I’ll be forced to lean on them,” Nedwin agreed. “Much as they would lean on me out in the wilderness, where I belong.”
“You’ll be terrific,” Rachel encouraged. “The fact that you care so much makes you the per
fect person for the job. Much better than some overconfident politician.”
“Let’s hope for the sake of the realm that there is sense in your words. I’m relieved to know you’ll be watching out for my king.”
“We’ll all be watching out for him. Nobody wants to see Galloran harmed. But I’ll make a special effort. I’ll try to do what you would do.”
Nedwin closed his eyes. “Thank you, Rachel. The thought affords me a measure of comfort. Can I give you anything?” Pulling on the leather strands around his neck, Nedwin produced several vials from within his shirt. “I’ve collected unusual substances from the far corners of Lyrian—expensive extracts, rare and useful. Pain enhancers, poisons, healing ointments.”
“You keep them,” Rachel said. “Carrying poison would freak me out. We should rely on our strengths. Mine is Edomic.”
Nedwin nodded, eyes remote. “Mine is stealth, I suppose. And commitment. I don’t suppose I could be more committed.”
“That might be exactly what this kingdom needs.”
Nedwin stood. With him seated, she had almost forgotten how abnormally tall he was. “Enough wallowing. I’ll escort you back to your bodyguards.”
“I can find my way.”
“Let me guide you. It’s one of my strengths.”
CHAPTER 14
THE MAUMET
As the Valiant gently swayed and creaked, Jason sat in his cabin studying the prophecy. While reading and pondering, he munched on a thick burrito improvised out of flatbread and fish meat. Sunlight streamed through the porthole. Since she had memorized the prophecy, Farfalee had written down all the words spoken by the oracle, so that he could examine them. Jason had been insistent, because he felt their current plan would get them all killed.
After much debate, their best strategy involved circling the island, leaving a number of landing parties offshore at different points. A pair of squads at the far end of the island from the library would go ashore first, not advancing too far inland. If the Maumet attacked them, they would detonate an orantium sphere. At the sound of the explosion, squads would move in from the north and south to further delay and distract the Maumet. Teams on the eastern side of the island would race to the library in order to get the information and escape before the Maumet returned and killed them all. Jason, Farfalee, Aram, Jasher, and Drake would be members of the eastern teams.
That plan outclassed the others mostly because it sought to dodge the Maumet rather than defeat it. It amounted to a high-stakes game of steal the bacon. But the strategy had many flaws.
Farfalee had warned that it might take hours, days, or even weeks to find the desired information, depending how effectively the enormous library was indexed. Any major delay in finding the location of Darian the Seer could result in a fatal confrontation with the Maumet. Furthermore, the plan assumed that the Maumet would react to multiple intrusions by storming around the island and battling all the trespassers. However, if the Maumet was smart and meant to guard the library, it might react to the invasion by falling back to the library and slaying all comers.
Jason felt certain that if the plan was implemented, they would fail to get the information, and they would all die. Quest over. War lost. Just because their current strategy was the best they had devised did not make it the right plan. They would be relying on stupidity from the Maumet and a whole lot of luck finding the information swiftly.
Rubbing his eyes, Jason tried to force his strained imagination to deliver better options. The oracle had seen a way they could succeed. The thought would not quit pestering him. Out of all the possible futures, there had to be one where they survived the Maumet. There had to be a strategy that would work. They simply hadn’t found it yet.
Jason stared at the freshly drafted parchment. Farfalee had warned that prophecies seldom gave many specifics. They did not lead you step by step, strategy by strategy, to your desired end. But Jason didn’t need a full explanation of how to handle every upcoming problem. He just needed a clue.
Most of the words were inapplicable. Much of the prophecy specified who should go where and when. Much of it dealt with Galloran’s attack of Felrook. He focused on the lines that seemed to have the most relevance.
The last abode of Darian the Seer can be learned at the Celestine Library within the Inland Sea. The line referenced this part of the quest, but lacked details pertaining to their current problem. Jason knew where he needed to go. The trouble was how to get there.
Several utterances toward the end contained some potentially useful statements. The parallel quests must succeed. Many present will perish. You must stand united. Maybe many of them had to die in order to get the info from the library. Maybe by working together and sacrificing heavily they could pull it off. That line of thinking supported the current plan.
The most mysterious and potentially useful predictions were among her final words. A secret from the past can ransom the future. That seemed to hint that the information they would get from the seer could help them win the war. But maybe it meant a secret from the past could teach them how to defeat the Maumet and access the library. Farfalee, Jasher, and Drake had all lived a long time. Maybe one of them had forgotten an important detail.
The servant will betray the master. That one was hard to pin down. It could refer to anyone. Was it possible that the Maumet would betray Zokar and allow them access to the library? Was there some way to appease the guardian and win it over? The prospect didn’t seem likely, but Jason was ready to consider any option.
The pleasant paths have crumbled. Lyrian must be purchased with sacrifice. Those lines seemed to justify throwing lots of people at the Maumet from different directions and hoping a few survivors would escape with the information. But Jason still disliked that plan. He couldn’t picture any survivors. Sacrifice might be essential to their success, but success would not automatically spring from reckless, wasteful sacrifices.
The last lines sounded more like clues than any other part. Our hope is red, like the blood of heroes; black as the bowels of the earth; and white, like a flash of orantium. The mention of blood seemed to once again emphasize sacrifice. Jason found the other two lines more intriguing.
The bowels of the earth could refer to caves. What if a secret cave granted access to the library? Perhaps a cave that started underwater or had an entrance hidden on the island? A secret tunnel that would let them sneak to their goal unnoticed?
Although he considered the possibility worth mentioning to the others, the idea failed to spark much excitement in him. If an entrance like that existed, it had stayed hidden for hundreds of years. It would be extremely hard to find. And the only reason to believe it might exist was a vague hunch. The line in the prophecy could easily refer to something else entirely. It might just mean a black object. Or the line might have nothing to do with this portion of the quest. Besides, just because they gained access to the library by a secret way didn’t ensure the Maumet wouldn’t catch them. The guardian had no visible eyes or ears. If it was like a lurker, the Maumet might notice their presence with more than the five normal senses. But a hidden passage would be much better than a wild game of capture the flag.
What was white like an orantium flash? That kind of intense bright white was only really available from an orantium flash. What else came close? Sunlight on snow? Maybe an angel? Jason doubted a choir of angels would swoop down and rescue them.
Could orantium itself be the key? If the Maumet was made of iron when impact occurred, the answer was no. Jasher had hit it with orantium to no effect. But what if the Maumet had been made of tooth enamel when the orantium had detonated? The explosion might have pulverized it. The tooth fairy would have been cleaning up bits and pieces for weeks.
Was there a way to ensure the Maumet would be made of a fragile substance when the orantium hit? Strategically, tooth enamel had been an odd choice. The Maumet had been hit by iron weapons before it touched the tooth. It could have turned to iron at the start. It seemed to have selecte
d tooth enamel out of curiosity. The others speculated that it had only assimilated the torivorian steel once it felt seriously threatened.
Would the Maumet feel threatened at the start of any conflict from here on out? After the skirmish, it had experimented with different substances, becoming skin and leather and iron. If they could just hit the guardian with orantium when it was fragile, the problem might be solved.
Jason resisted crumpling the parchment. Was he dwelling too much on orantium because it was their best weapon? The prophecy seemed to suggest orantium would be important, but it had already served them well. And certainly it would be important as Galloran attacked Felrook.
The Maumet could transform instantly. What if they threw an explosive sphere, and the Maumet changed to crystal as the globe connected? It would be blasted into glitter. Might the Maumet arbitrarily change into crystal on contact? Or was it too smart? The Maumet had lived a long time. It knew how to survive.
What if they attacked it with crystal weapons? Or weapons made of a brittle substance? Then if at any point the Maumet transformed into the brittle material, they would bombard it with orantium. The others had considered a similar strategy. But it relied on the Maumet being stupid. The creature had shown a single hint of recklessness. The Maumet had become tooth enamel and had lost a foot as a result. Could banking on a similar mistake be their best hope? Was that realistic?
What would be the ideal material for the Maumet to become? Glass? Crystal? Jason chuckled. Orantium would be nice. It would blast itself into nothing. But there was no way to even bring the creature in contact with orantium. Once exposed to air or water, the mineral immediately exploded. After a globe broke, the mineral would detonate before contact.
Wait.
There was an exception.
For the first time in quite a while, Jason found himself unable to resist a smile.
* * *
Within two hours they were ready to implement the plan. Gripping a collapsible spyglass in both hands, Jason felt he might burst with nervous excitement.