by Brandon Mull
“Jason is all right?” Rachel asked, her voice quiet, her body tense.
“Well enough,” Ferrin replied. “They are under heavy pursuit. I am not surprised that Maldor sent torivors. Once the Maumet fell, his concern over their side of the prophecy would have increased a hundredfold. The emperor will throw everything he can between Jason and his goal.”
“Are the others well?” Rachel asked.
Ferrin paused. He had that sickly look again. “Several drinlings have fallen. And I’m afraid I have bad news. One of our original delegation gave his life to defeat a lurker. It’s a miracle they stopped a torivor without Galloran. It had come to slay Jason.”
“Lord Jason is all right,” Tark confirmed.
Ferrin nodded, his eyes on Rachel.
She paled. “Not Drake,” she whispered.
Ferrin gave a slight nod.
Rachel felt cold and sick inside. How was it possible that Drake had gone out of the world and she hadn’t known? She returned a little nod. “Oh.”
“I know you were close,” Ferrin said. “Jason said he died very bravely.”
“I’m sure,” Rachel said, trying to wall herself off, trying not to react to the terrible news. She wanted to lash out with Edomic. She noticed a boulder the size of a couch, and suddenly she wanted to throw it higher and farther than she had ever thrown anything. She wanted to crush it to dust. She wanted to tear the tent where she had just met with Galloran to shreds. She wanted to set the world on fire. In that moment of hurt and sorrow, she almost felt she could do it.
Instead, Rachel drew the dark veil in front of her face. For once her outfit felt completely appropriate to her mood. “Maldor will not get away with that,” she finally managed.
“He won’t,” Ferrin said, giving her a hug.
Rachel let him hug her. She didn’t want the contact at the moment, but Ferrin couldn’t know that. He was trying to help. When the embrace ended, Tark took her hand and patted it. She could see the hurt in his eyes.
Rachel backed away. “I need some time alone.”
Ferrin nodded.
Rachel turned, walking away from camp. She wished somebody would attack her. She wished Maldor had left defenders in the pass. She wished Maldor himself would come after her. He had sent that torivor. She had a message for him.
Somebody caught her arm from behind. Rachel turned. It was Galloran, his blindfold off, his eyes sympathetic.
“You heard my thoughts,” she realized.
“They were impossible to miss,” Galloran said gently.
“I don’t . . . ,” she began, but couldn’t continue.
You don’t know what you’re fighting for if the people you most love are going to die, Galloran conveyed mentally.
Yes, she replied. And at the same time, I want to fight more than ever. I’ve never wanted to hurt somebody with Edomic before. I’ve hurt people in the heat of the moment, in self-defense, but I’ve never felt like I do now.
Leash those desires, Galloran cautioned. I understand how pain and grief can fuel rage. In this moment, riding this tide of emotion, you could wield Edomic as never before. But the effort would be wasted. You might harm yourself, and for what? To scorch a field? To lob a boulder toward the clouds? Store up the emotion. Save it for when you really need it. Don’t weaken yourself before the true battle.
His words brought her back. The urge to lash out diminished as her anger dissolved into heartache. She felt utterly helpless. “They killed Drake.”
“We can’t reverse what happened,” Galloran said. “But we will make them pay.”
CHAPTER 20
LANDFALL
I’m out of tricks,” Aram said, lowering the spyglass. Eight ships were visible along the seaward horizon, sails bright in the moonlight, the steady glow of lanterns illuminating their decks. “And we’re running out of water. There is no room left to maneuver. Taking the wind into account, I don’t see an alternative to the docks.”
Jason studied the ships converging from all directions. Not much had changed since he had sent the message to Ferrin a few hours ago. The enemy vessels had spread wide, driving the Valiant before them. As land drew nearer and escape options dwindled, the pursuing ships drew closer together, led by an interceptor called the Intrepid.
After the prolonged calm had finally subsided, the Valiant had sailed north. They wanted to stay away from Angial, the largest city north of the Inland Sea, because it had a garrison with hundreds of soldiers. They had been making for Jerzon, a fishing village well west of Angial, but with reasonably good access to the Fuming Waste. But before they could reach the village, lookouts had spotted a torivor on the water. It had not borne swords, but not long after the sighting, imperial ships had forced them to revise their plans.
Aram had led the imperial vessels on an epic chase. He had tried the same trick on the Intrepid that had sunk the Avenger, but the new interceptor had carefully avoided following directly in their wake. Apparently, word had gotten out.
Jason watched the drinlings prepping hot pitch for the little catapults. The Valiant would end her final voyage with a firefight. They did not intend to leave the interceptor seaworthy. Over the course of the chase they had lost the skiff and one of the launches, along with five drinlings and five orantium spheres. The drinlings in the launch had managed to hit one of the smaller ships with orantium before flaming pitch had set their open boat ablaze.
After days of desperate maneuvering, they were out of alternatives. They were now heading for the town of Gulba. Heg had apparently scouted the town a few months ago. He had assured them that the town should house no more than twenty soldiers, but it did boast a pair of sizable piers and a large livery stable. The idea had been to steer toward Gulba, but to watch for a chance to slip through to a more northerly town. The wind and their pursuers had not cooperated, so now their options were either disembarking at Gulba or staging a battle on the water against eight enemy ships.
“Imperial schooner at the docks,” came a cry from above.
“What?” Aram called, racing to the other side of the deck. He peered toward land through his spyglass.
“We can expect extra soldiers in town,” Jasher said. He wore a patch over his injured eye and a bandage on his arm.
Even without a spyglass Jason could make out the dark form of the docked ship ahead. They just couldn’t catch a break! Now they would be sandwiched between strong forces.
“Eight of you should take the remaining launch and land away from the dock,” Heg said. “Let the Valiant draw away attention. We’ll bombard the schooner, the dock, and the incoming ships with pitch.”
“Might be our best choice under the circumstances,” Farfalee said. “We’ll leave behind an orantium sphere.”
“Take it,” Heg urged. “You need them both more than we will. I’ll stay and lead the effort. We’ll make sure the Valiant burns. We’ll fight until you’re away, then make our escape into the wild.”
Considering the large number of enemy troops involved, Jason wondered how many of the drinlings would survive to escape. Once again, others would risk their lives to try to get him to Darian.
“Who will go ashore in the launch?” Aram asked.
“Jasher, Aram, Jason, Corinne, Nia, and I,” Farfalee listed. “And two drinlings. Who do you suggest, Heg?”
“Del is our best remaining swordsman,” Heg said. “And Zoo has shown great composure under pressure.”
“We could probably squeeze ten into the launch,” Jasher said. “We might need the extra swords to win through to the horses.”
“Thag and Fet,” Heg said. “Our hardiest fighters. Maces should serve as well as swords.”
“We had best prepare the launch,” Aram said. “The breeze is picking up. We’ll reach the dock swiftly.”
“Try to catch up with us,” Farfalee urged Heg. “Find horses if you can. It will be a long ride to the far side of the Fuming Waste. We can use all of the protection we can get.”
“If we win free, we’l
l follow you,” Heg promised, “whether mounted or afoot.”
Jasher approached Corinne, holding Drake’s breastplate. “It cracked, but it will still serve. It’s light and will offer better protection than leather.”
“Thank you,” she said as she strapped it on.
Jasher turned to Jason. “I’ll carry one of our last orantium spheres. You carry the other. Don’t hesitate to use it.”
Jason accepted it gingerly. Orantium was a powerful weapon, but the prospect of an accidental detonation made him nervous.
Jason, Corinne, Jasher, and Farfalee all wore torivorian swords. Farfalee had offered hers to Aram, but the half giant had refused in favor of his own enormous blade. The ten companions climbed into the launch along with packs full of provisions. Thag and Aram manned the oars. The overloaded launch floated lower in the water than Jason liked.
As the launch diverged from the Valiant, Jason tried to pay equal attention to the coast and the enemy ships. The town of Gulba looked quiet, with only a few lit windows. It was neither a large town nor a tiny hamlet. The enemy ships were converging rapidly, chasing the Valiant into port like a pack uniting for the kill.
“Speed could save us,” Jasher whispered, loud enough to be heard over the sloshing oars and Aram’s jingling armor. “We nab horses and we get out of town.”
As the Valiant approached the dock, the drinling crew began launching fiery pitch at the schooner and the piers. By the time the interceptor collided with the opposite side of the schooner’s pier, flames were leaping from some of the dockside buildings and spreading across both piers. Fire climbed the schooner’s sails and blossomed aboard the Valiant as well.
The launch landed on a muddy little beach near a modest inlet sheltering smaller vessels. Farfalee sprang out first, a pack on her back, an arrow set to her bowstring. Alarm bells rang. Voices hollered. Figures could be seen running to the flaming docks, as well as disembarking from the Valiant. The Intrepid led the charge as the imperial flotilla sailed for the piers, driven by the rising wind.
Jason slung a pack onto his back, picked up his titan-crab shield, and stepped out of the launch and onto firm mud. Jasher and Aram held their swords ready, so Jason drew his as well, the blade silver-white in the moonlight. Positioned at the right angle, the torivorian metal picked up orange highlights from the burning dock.
“Heg told me the way to the stable,” Zoo said. “Stay close.”
Jason was glad that somebody knew where they were going. From his current position he could see no evidence of horses or a stable. Away from the dock most of the buildings were lost in shadow. A few had soft firelight or luminous kelp glowing behind shuttered windows.
As the group trotted away from the launch, Jason questioned whether he should hold the orantium sphere ready instead of his shield. He decided that he could drop the shield and reach the sphere easily enough if needed. The sphere would not block arrows. Jason had practiced fighting with a shield at Mianamon but had spent more time with only a sword in his hand.
Zoo led them between buildings, keeping to the shadows wherever possible. Disorderly clusters of people ran toward the waterfront, some only half dressed, a few in uniforms. Most were too focused on the dockside fire to notice anything else, but as the group rounded a corner, a pair of uniformed men down the road paused, looking their way.
“Who goes there?” one of them asked, drawing a sword.
Farfalee answered with an arrow. As the other ran for cover, she dropped him as well.
Running lightly, Zoo led them down a side street. At the next corner Zoo halted, then peeked her head around slowly. “We found it,” she whispered. “There’s a guard outside with a crossbow.”
Jason was impressed with how clearly Zoo was speaking English now. The drinlings learned so fast.
Farfalee pulled an arrow to her cheek, stepped around the corner, and released. She nocked and released a second shot in a swift motion, then readied a third.
They sped to the large stable, a long wooden building with a gently sloped roof. From inside they heard horses stamping and whinnying. One seemed to almost scream. Zoo collected the fallen guard’s crossbow.
Thag and Aram yanked the big doors open. The stable contained sixteen stalls on each side. Three soldiers were working their way down the stalls, slaughtering the horses. They had started at the far end and only had a few stalls left.
The soldiers looked surprised as the doors opened. Thag and Aram closed swiftly. One soldier charged forward. The other two backed away, their dripping weapons raised defensively.
Aram sidestepped a swing and clubbed the attacker with the flat of his blade. The soldier rebounded off the side of a stall and flopped to the floor. Racing past Aram, Thag engaged the next soldier, landing a crushing blow with his mace. The final soldier went down with an arrow through him. Aram stomped a heavy boot on the chest of the man he had toppled. “Where can we find more horses?”
“Gone,” the man chuckled bleakly. “We set loose the steeds in the corral. I yield, by the way, if that matters.”
Jason glanced around the stable. Only three horses remained standing.
“Three mounts,” Jasher spat. “We have three horses.”
A shadowy figure slipped through the door at the far end of the barn. Farfalee drew an arrow to her cheek, but hesitated. Zoo loosed a quarrel from her captured crossbow.
The figure caught the quarrel in one hand and rushed forward with inhuman speed. The lurker plunged the quarrel into Zoo, then stood back calmly.
Jason stared warily at the torivor. It stood so near, unmoving. His thoughts turned to Drake, and he felt queasy. At least the lurker had no swords. Still, what were they supposed to do now?
Thag approached the lurker from behind, mace raised.
“No,” Aram ordered. “We need you.” Aram looked down at the man beneath his boot. “How many horses did you scatter?”
Suddenly unwilling to speak, the man glanced at the lurker. The dark figure raised both arms. The horses in the stalls began to whicker and stamp. One reared.
Corinne raced at the lurker. Farfalee and Jasher both moved to stop her, but they did not react in time. Corinne held the tip of her sword level with the dark figure’s chest. “Enough!” she cried angrily. “You’ve done enough!”
The torivor lowered its arms and retreated before her, shuffling back as she stalked forward. The tip of her sword shifted left at the same time as the lurker attempted to dodge left, then back to the right an instant before it skipped to the right. She kept advancing. It kept retreating.
Jason held his breath and watched in horror. It was as if Corinne had stepped in front of a speeding train. Her destruction was inevitable. Sure, a torivorian blade could injure a torivor. But you had to hit it. Now that Corinne had attacked, she had opened the door for the lurker to retaliate. Jason couldn’t get thoughts of Drake out of his head. The idea of Corinne sharing a similar fate was too much. If anything, Jason would have wanted to step in front of a lurker to protect her, not the other way around! He knew too well how even an unarmed torivor could wreak havoc against opponents.
Raising his sword, Jason strode forward. Maybe if he could slip past Corinne, he could distract the torivor enough for Corinne to make a move. Jasher’s hand clamped down on his shoulder firm enough to restrain him. “Too late,” Jasher murmured. “The way is too narrow. This is up to her now.”
Jason could see that Jasher was right. If he tried to dodge past her, he’d probably just end up distracting her and getting them both killed. The chance to help her had passed. He didn’t resist the seedman’s grasp. The sword in his hand made him feel like a poser. Jason wished he could rewind time. Nobody should attack an unarmed lurker! Why hadn’t somebody tackled her? Why hadn’t he tackled her?
“Get out,” Corinne said steadily. “Leave and do not return or I will slay you.”
Corinne stopped advancing and began to move her sword into a variety of defensive positions. The lurker would twitch an
d she would adjust. Jason found himself flinching with each tiny movement. She swiped at it, missed, and stepped back into a defensive stance. Her blade kept moving as if dueling an imagined foe, blocking invisible blows, occasionally poking forward in halfhearted thrusts. The lurker crowded toward her, knees bent, arms extended, feinting with its head and hands. She seemed to anticipate every feint, moving with the featureless creature instead of reacting to it.
Corinne shuffled back and lowered her sword to her side. The torivor flashed toward her at the same moment as she lunged, thrusting her blade forward. The lurker stopped just shy of the sharp tip. The torivor slapped at the flat of her blade, but she twisted it so the black palm tore open against the edge, bleeding light.
Corinne shifted the tip of her blade left, then right, keeping it pointed directly at the lurker as it sidestepped. The dark figure jumped up and back, sailing almost high enough to reach the rafters. Then it fell flat to the floor and blurred toward her legs. Corinne stabbed downward, the blade piercing the floorboards as well as the torivor. It disappeared with a blinding burst of light.
There was silence in the stable for a moment. Corinne looked over her shoulder at her friends, her expression tired and relieved.
Jason did not realize he had been frozen in horrified shock until it began to melt away. He blinked. She had survived. No, not just survived. She had killed it.
“Well done,” Farfalee said, making no effort to hide her disbelief.
“How many horses?” Aram repeated menacingly, leaning his weight onto the fallen soldier.
The man beneath his boot looked flabbergasted. “She just . . . How did she . . . ?”
“We kill lurkers all the time,” Aram replied casually. He leaned more heavily on the man, his boot pressing down with rib-creaking force. “Last chance.”
Jason stood beside Aram, glaring down at the trapped soldier. The man glanced his way. He kept his expression hard.
“We scattered twenty or so,” the man huffed with difficulty. “Emptied the corral.”
Aram reduced the pressure. “Which way did they run?”