by Brandon Mull
“Will the ink work after all these years?” Jason asked.
“Yes, if the bottle has been sealed,” the guide replied. “Edomic was used to protect and preserve nearly all of our resources.”
Jasher and one of the drinlings who had accompanied Aram burst into the room. “We have a situation,” Jasher said.
“What?” Drake asked.
“Six ships on the northeastern horizon, coming this way, including an interceptor.”
“The wind is still from the east?” Drake asked.
“Yes,” Jasher said. “Aram found an observation room atop the highest dome. The ships just came into view using telescopes. They are still hours away. Aram thinks if we hurry, we might have a chance to escape undetected.”
“Wouldn’t that be nice?” Drake asked. “Farfalee?”
“Depends how long it takes to copy the scroll and a map.”
“Captain Aram has already run ahead to prepare the Valiant,” the drinling said. “He knows you will follow as soon as you see fit.”
“Anything you can do to help us hurry?” Jason asked Bactrus.
The old guide pursed his lips. “Possibly. Ask your friend if she ever held an office when she worked at the Great Document Hall.”
“Farfalee?” Jason asked.
“I attained the office of lesser loremaster,” she replied.
“Ask if she recalls her words,” Bactrus instructed.
“Farfalee?”
She spoke several Edomic phrases. They referenced fidelity in preserving the rich history of Lyrian, honesty in dealing with those seeking knowledge, and courage in protecting the documents in her care.
“Those are the words,” Bactrus told Jason. “The scroll is not a permanent part of our collection. I could release it into her custody as if she were the loremaster who came to return it to Cirum Elsador, the repository from whence it came.”
“Really?” Jason exclaimed.
“I have that authority,” Bactrus said. “And she is, after all, the only remaining person who can read it. Ask your friend to pledge to see the scroll either safely delivered to Cirum Elsador or else returned here.”
“I promise,” Farfalee said.
“Have her touch the scroll to the stone,” Bactrus instructed.
They did so, and the stone briefly pulsed with light.
Bactrus regarded Jason somberly. “The scroll is now under her stewardship. You also need a map.”
“Yes,” Jason said.
“We have diverse maps for purchase,” Bactrus said. “All part of a service once offered by the cartographers here. They are not so finely detailed as some available in the collection, and the selection is limited, but I am aware of five commercial maps that together should serve your needs. As with the antiquities shop, since there is no proprietor present, I can simply let you take them.”
“This could make all the difference,” Jasher said. “It will save hours.”
“You could attempt to copy our maps by hand,” Bactrus told Jason, “but it would require considerable skill to match the detail. The commercial maps will most likely serve better than any copies you might render.”
Bactrus led them to a side of the room crowded with counters, cabinets, and drawers. With his help, they collected five rolled maps. Farfalee scanned them to be sure. “These will serve,” she decided.
“Take care in the Fuming Waste,” Bactrus warned Jason. “The landscape is constantly changing. The main features should be relatively constant, but nothing on the maps can be guaranteed.”
“Right,” Jasher said. “To the entrance.”
“Can you lead us there double time?” Jason asked Bactrus.
“I do not tire,” the guide responded.
As they ran, Drake spoke up. “I’d like to peek at that antiquities shop before we go.”
“I wouldn’t mind a look at the cloakroom,” Jasher added.
“Every minute counts,” Farfalee reminded them.
“We’ll hurry,” Drake promised.
“I can lend you the stone,” Jason said.
“Much appreciated,” Drake replied.
“I wish we had time to hide the stones,” Farfalee said. “I don’t want to make it easy for our enemies to use these resources.”
“Maldor could probably learn a lot here,” Jason realized.
“If we lose the war,” Farfalee said, “this library will provide the means to significantly enhance his power.”
“Is there any way to lock the library?” Jason asked.
“It would require an acting loremaster who knew the words,” Bactrus said. “We guides have no such authority. The outer doors will open to any Edomic greeting.”
“Hiding the stones isn’t worth the effort,” Jasher panted. “If we bring the scroll, I can think of no immediate benefit the library can offer our foes. Unless perhaps there are useful items in the antiquities shop.”
“Very well,” Farfalee said. “You two check the cloakroom and the shop. But don’t lag! The time will be best spent escaping.”
They ran the rest of the way to the entrance without conversation. By the time they reached the lobby, Jason was damp with sweat and breathing hard. Only the drinling and Bactrus showed no sign of fatigue.
Jason handed the stone to Jasher.
“Does Nia know we’re leaving?” Farfalee suddenly asked.
“We already found her,” the drinling said. “She and the others have gone ahead. We’re the last people in the library.”
“Come on,” Farfalee urged, leading the way out the front door.
Glancing back, Jason saw Bactrus giving instructions to Jasher. “Thanks, Bactrus!” Jason called, but the guide remained focused on the seedman.
Outside, Jason saw that afternoon was progressing toward evening. He raced alongside Farfalee and the drinling through the greenery down to the beach, where they found Corinne and Nia waiting, along with Zoo and a single launch.
“How are you feeling?” Jason asked Corinne.
“Much better,” she said. She was on her feet and had some of her color back. “And I might stay that way. Nia did me a favor. She brought me a remedy for seasickness.”
Jason turned to Nia. “Really?”
“Tibrus is a medical expert,” Nia explained smugly. “He showed me a picture of an herb called langerhop that was once cultivated here on the island to help visitors who found the crossing unpleasant. He said it’s a potent remedy, working well even in chronic instances. I found a huge patch of it growing wild on the south side of the library. Corinne already sampled some, and we loaded a lot into the launch.”
Corinne gave Nia a big hug. “If this works, I’ll owe you forever!”
Jason felt more than a little jealous. If he had been a bit more considerate, he could have been Corinne’s hero!
“We should get that launch ready,” Farfalee said. “We need to leave the moment Jasher and Drake return.”
The two drinlings turned the launch around. Jason, Nia, and Corinne wandered over to it. Jason watched the sea lapping against the shore with wimpier waves than ever.
Within a few minutes Jasher and Drake came bounding out of the vegetation and sprinted across the sand. They held three black shields shaped like extremely rounded triangles. Drake wore a round steel cap and a breastplate that matched the shield. A dark, velvety cloak billowed behind Jasher.
The two seedmen leaped into the launch. The drinlings shoved off and then manned the oars. Grinning, Drake held out one of the shields to Farfalee.
“Titan crab,” she said, hefting it.
“I almost got killed by a titan crab,” Jason mentioned.
“Lighter than steel,” Jasher said. “And a good deal stronger.”
“I’ll admit,” Farfalee said, “titan-crab shields were probably worth the wait.”
“The cloakroom was empty except for junk,” Drake said. “But the shop looked untouched. You would weep to know the valuables we left behind. The art alone!”
“We concentrated on useful items,” Jasher said.
“How novel,” Farfalee commented.
Jasher gave her a lopsided grin. “But that didn’t stop me from thinking of you.” He held out a jeweled necklace and a fancy silver bracelet.
Farfalee could not disguise her pleasure. “Oh, Jash! You scoundrel! You pillaged for me! That necklace is divine! It’s useful—it must be worth a fortune!”
“And since I have no spouse,” Drake said, “I thought of you girls.” He handed Corinne and Nia matching rings set with huge blue gems.
“It’s lovely,” Corinne gushed, her eyes dancing.
Jason could not help but notice that everyone was scoring major points with her today except him.
Nia said nothing. She held up the ring, transfixed by the glinting facets. At last she let out a low whistle. “I never imagined owning something so fancy.”
“Facing grim peril should have some rewards,” Drake said, rapping his titan-crab breastplate with his knuckles. “The extra shield is for Lord Jason.”
“Really?” Jason said, suddenly feeling much better.
“We don’t want to make it too easy for them to kill you,” Drake insisted cheerfully. “Windbreak Island has been good to us. We have our scroll, and our maps, and several rare and valuable items besides. Now all we have to do is get away.”
They reached the ship and climbed to the deck. As a group of drinlings took care of the launch, the Valiant set sail. Aram approached, and Farfalee filled him in about the scroll and the maps. Jasher showed off the shields and gave Aram a curved knife with a jeweled hilt.
“How do we get away?” Jasher asked.
“We took the time to study their heading from the observation room,” Aram said. “They’re coming from the northeast, on a direct course for Windbreak Island. So we’ll slip away to the southwest, using the same easterly wind, and keep the island between us until nightfall. They’ll want to search the island thoroughly, so they’ll surely stop there for the night. If the wind holds, by daybreak we should be out of sight even from the observation room.”
“A cogent plan,” Drake said with mock astonishment. “You really must have been a smuggler! I was convinced you had made it all up.”
Aram smiled. “I think we set sail just in time. Whatever our enemies may have known about our intentions before, they’ll have a difficult time finding us now.”
As the group dispersed, Drake pulled Jason aside. The seedman produced an elegant necklace set with extravagant gemstones.
“Drake,” Jason said, “you shouldn’t have.”
Ignoring the comment, the seedman looked pleased with himself. “I also swiped a beautiful necklace for Rachel, lest she feel forgotten.”
Jason smiled, wondering if Drake realized what he had just implied. “You think we’re going to make it.”
“What?”
“You think we’ll have a chance to give it to her.”
Drake tried to muster a tough stare. “Now, don’t start putting words in my mouth. We’re probably as doomed as ever.”
Jason tried not to grin. “I don’t blame you. I’m feeling pretty good too. Things could have gone a lot worse on the island.”
“Things went plenty bad. But yes, we bested the Maumet, we found the scroll, and we might even get away before our enemies catch our scent. Things could have gone worse. There’s still plenty of hardship and uncertainty ahead. Only a fool would predict we’d survive this . . . but who knows?”
“You brought the necklace just in case.”
“Exactly. One never knows.” He jangled the necklace. “Just in case.”
CHAPTER 17
MARCHING
A warm spring sun glared overhead as Rachel rode along a wide dirt road through pastoral country. The sounds and smells of men and horses surrounded her and stretched out behind. She was glad that her status as the Dark Lady allowed her to ride toward the front of the column. It turned out that thousands of soldiers on the move churned up a great deal of dust just about wherever they went. Her position near the front helped her avoid the worst of it, and the black veils that screened her face provided additional protection.
Of course, she was not truly at the front. Not in a vulnerable way. Scouts ranged far ahead in all directions, and a vanguard of mounted troops rode well beyond the main body of the army.
Galloran had anticipated trouble crossing the Telkron River. Any of the viable crossings would create a bottleneck where a relatively small amount of fighting men and manglers could stall the entire host. But there had not been any resistance. Not at the Telkron, not before, not after. The scouts continued to report no threatening enemy movements. So far the experience of marching to war had been rather dull.
Snowflake was as good a horse as Rachel had hoped—strong, tireless, and quick to obey. The mare moved more smoothly than any horse Rachel had ridden. Tark and Ferrin rode near her, but conversation was scarce. Io had been assigned as Galloran’s assistant and bodyguard, the same role Dorsio had once filled.
Galloran spent a surprising amount of time among the troops. He rode up and down the column during the day and visited their campsites at night, never lingering anywhere long, just allowing the men to see him and receive a few encouraging words. Sometimes Rachel wondered when he slept. It could not have been more than a few hours each night.
Galloran never wore his blindfold anymore except in private meetings. He had explained that a host of their size could go nowhere in secret. Some of the men had taken to brandishing their weapons at Galloran and shaking their fists when he rode past. At first Rachel had found the display disrespectful, until she realized they were sending a message to Felrook through his eyes. Galloran would sometimes scowl at the rowdy taunts to encourage them. He trusted the officers to maintain discipline and keep the joke from getting out of hand.
Every night Rachel slept in a tent on a comfortable cot. Tark and Ferrin shared the space behind a divider. Sometimes in the night Rachel would worry about lurkers intruding. She never took off the charms that shielded her mind. At times, in the dark, she clung to her necklace like a lifeline.
Galloran had a large tent that was used for meetings. Whenever a discussion was in progress, twelve burly guards surrounded the tent, three on each side. Rachel was not usually included in the discussions, but one evening after supper Rachel, Ferrin, and Tark were summoned to the pavilion. Galloran, blindfolded, awaited them with Io at his side. Bread and cheese covered a table topped by a large map.
“Good evening,” Galloran said. “I apologize that my time has been spread thin lately. Much of my day is occupied with eagle messages and scouting reports. I wanted to bring you up-to-date on our progress and get your reactions to the current state of our campaign. I want you all to understand our situation, and would be interested to hear your evaluations.”
“Happy to serve,” Ferrin said.
“We are currently experiencing far less resistance than I had expected,” Galloran said. “The country before us is not being burned or plundered to starve us. Our host is not being harassed. Our enemies have not bothered to destroy bridges or take any action to slow us. What does this tell you?”
“That we’re walking into a trap,” Ferrin said. “We’re going exactly where the emperor desires.”
“If that is the case,” Galloran said, “I would still expect some token effort to impede us, if for no other reason than to make his approval of our movements less obvious.”
“Such token resistance would suggest he views us as a threat,” Ferrin replied. “Maldor is in no hurry to show us any such respect. He does not want to burn crops that his subjects are otherwise sure to harvest after we are corpses. He does not want the trouble of rebuilding bridges. He has elected to belittle us with a seeming lack of attention. He is telling your soldiers that he views them as harmless. He is inviting them to march to their deaths, offering no small victories along the way.”
From behind her veil, Rachel watched Ferrin, impressed
. He certainly had a sharp mind for strategy.
“I’m afraid that I agree with your assessment,” Galloran said. “Maldor knows the prophecy. He knows where we are going. He knows we mean to besiege Felrook. And he is inviting us to try.”
Ferrin nodded. “Why seek to slow us when he knows we are marching to the battlefield where he holds the greatest advantage? Felrook is ringed with mountains. There are only three good ways to reach it. The western pass, which lies east of Harthenham. The northwestern pass, which is the narrowest. And the eastern plain, where the mountains fail. No doubt the drinlings will enter by the eastern route.”
“Correct,” Galloran said. “The Amar Kabal will join us at the western pass. The northwestern way is closer to the Seven Vales, but there is no use in losing troops trying to take two passes.”
“We must keep vigilant,” Ferrin said. “Maldor might be trying to lull us into complacency. Just when we think he is giving us easy access to Felrook, he might hit us hard.”
“We’re braced for a big ambush,” Galloran said. “Our scouts and spies are working hard. Yet we have found nothing.”
“Then we will probably face our first major challenge at the western pass,” Ferrin said. “The walls have been built high and strong. Without the gatecrashers I doubt whether our forces could get through. Even with large orantium spheres the cost will be dear. We will pay in blood.”
Rachel squirmed at the thought. Sometimes she was grateful for the veil to help hide her reactions.
“Or if Maldor holds to his current strategy,” Galloran said, “he might opt to offer small resistance at the pass.”
“Trap us in the valley with him,” Ferrin said. “If he had a host ready to come from the east, we would be in trouble. The war would be over. Is Kadara still besieged?”
“His armies in the east remain in place at present,” Galloran said. “I’m still in contact by eagle with Kadara, Inkala, Highport, and the drinlings. If he summons his armies home, we’ll have advance warning.”
Ferrin nodded. “The emperor might be quietly mustering a sufficient host to deal with us. He could draw from his occupying forces all over Lyrian. The troops we are not facing now might have been withdrawn to hammer us all together.”