Chasing the Prophecy (Beyonders)

by Brandon Mull

  As the soaring eruption continued to stretch higher, refracted sunlight laced the spray with prismatic ripples of color. Behind the radiant display, the farther geyser continued to diminish.

  “Three geysers in a row?” Jason said. “I hope geysers are lucky.”

  Jasher grunted. “If so, we have come to the luckiest place in Lyrian.”

  “I cannot vouch for their value as omens,” Farfalee said, “but the waters of the Fuming Waste are certainly unruly. We’re only at the outskirts. As we draw nearer to the mountains we will find hot springs, painted rivers, sludge pits, cauldrons, sinkholes, steam vents, mineral terraces, mud volcanoes, and geyser cones. None of our maps will be perfect, for the geography here evolves much more rapidly than anywhere else in Lyrian. We will need to proceed with care. There are volatile areas where the ground becomes wafer thin above boiling lakes or where scant layers of sand disguise wells of searing mud.”

  “Sounds perfect for a picnic,” Jason quipped. “Who brought the sandwiches?”

  “I have ridden this hazardous region before,” Jasher said, “though I never came so near to the heart of the Fuming Waste as this journey demands. Certain indicators can help protect us. Watch for steaming ground. Watch for webs of cracks. Feel for warm pockets. Listen for gurgling. Listen for the earth below popping or splitting. We’ll ride single file.” He pointed into the distance. “The Great Yellow Cone is our first landmark. From there we must proceed across the Polished Plain to the Stepping-Stones, past the Giant’s Bathhouse, and finally into the Scalding Caverns.”

  “And Rachel has the good camera,” Jason sighed. “Anything after the Scalding Caverns? Maybe the Flaming Hot Ocean of Misery?”

  “The Narrow Way,” Farfalee said. “And finally our destination.”

  Jason could see the first landmark poking above a distant ridgeline. The conical mount was shaped just like a volcano that a child would draw, its coloring the same yellow and white as a lemon meringue pie.

  During the long ride north they had not been spied by their adversaries, though as he scouted, Jasher had occasionally glimpsed enemy riders from a distance. The seedman had led their group on a lengthy ride inland before veering northward. The strategy had added at least a day to the trek, but it made the task very difficult for any soldiers who sailed north in order to cut them off or pick up their trail.

  Two of Farfalee’s messenger eagles had returned to her after she had set them loose the night they had abandoned the Valiant. She did not dare let them fly for fear of revealing their location. Instead, she kept them tethered to Aram’s saddle, feeding the large birds from the group’s rations.

  Jason flicked his reins and followed Jasher down the rugged hillside. The seedman weaved along the slope, inventing the trail as he went. Aram pointed out a black scorpion the size of a lobster. Jasher warned that the smaller, orange scorpions had a deadlier sting. Jason didn’t crave an encounter with either variety.

  They saw no new geysers for more than an hour, but by sunset Jason had counted eleven. They made camp in a cove of red rock. In addition to their regular rations, everyone but Jasher and Farfalee sampled part of the five-foot pit snake Del had killed. The cooked meat was chewy and almost sweet.

  The next day the Great Yellow Cone grew gradually nearer. Jason had a hard time gauging its size. It was certainly nothing to rival the mountains on the horizon, but it was a good deal taller than the surrounding mesas, drawing the eye more than any other feature.

  As the day wore on, they more frequently passed steaming vents. Some were jagged cracks no wider than a pencil, others yawning holes large enough to swallow a motor home. They also came across bubbling pools of muck—some red, some black, some white, most a silvery gray. The mud varied in thickness from viscous sludge to watery syrup. Some pools coughed up an occasional slow bubble; others simmered vigorously. Most of them reeked of sulfur.

  Throughout the ride Jason missed Drake. He missed his teasing comments, his reliable advice, and even his cynical predictions. He missed the steady competence of his presence. They were less safe without him. More than once Jason had caught himself wondering when Drake would return from scouting, only to remember that his friend would never be back. From time to time he rode with his head bowed to hide the tears.

  They stopped for the night near a black pool with a churning disturbance near the center. After making camp, Jason went to stare at the pool while twilight faded. The constant disruption heaved dark fluid eight feet into the air, like a small, permanent geyser. The central churning kept the rest of the surface rippling vigorously. Jasher called the murky pool a cauldron, which Jason considered an apt description

  As more stars emerged in the darkening sky, Corinne joined Jason beside the pool. For a long moment she watched with him in silence. Eventually he noticed that her attention had shifted from the pool to him. “Are you all right?” she asked.

  “I’m good,” Jason said, uncertain how else to respond.

  “You’ve seemed extra quiet lately.”

  “Have you heard? We’re being hunted.”

  “I’m serious.”

  Jason turned his attention back to the pool. “I don’t know. It’s been harder since we lost Drake. And then we lost so many people at Gulba. I guess it’s getting to me.”

  “I’m glad to hear that,” Corinne said.

  Jason looked at her sharply. “You’re heartless.”

  “No,” she apologized. “I mean, I’m glad because I feel the same way. I feel . . . drained, sad . . . you know.”

  “I know. It’s rough. I guess we try to look on the bright side. We’re getting close. Maybe some of us will actually make it.”

  “All the rest of us,” she said.

  “I hope so.” He glanced her way. “You were amazing against that lurker. I couldn’t believe it.”

  “Neither could I,” Corinne said. “I was so scared. But I could feel its mind, and I knew I had a chance. I also knew it would lead soldiers to us. It might have made escape impossible. It had no weapon. I felt like I had to try.”

  “I honestly thought you were dead,” Jason said. “That might have been it for me.”

  “Don’t talk like that,” Corinne scolded. “Of all of us, you need to hold true to the end.”

  Jason looked down at his hands. Why him? Why did it matter so much for him to find Darian’s home? He wasn’t the best fighter. If anything, he was the worst. But the oracle had named him first. As a result, Drake had died to save him. Guilt twisted deep inside.

  Corinne put a hand on his. Her hand was not soft. She had calluses from practicing with her sword. He squeezed her hand. She squeezed back.

  Maybe Darian was alive. Maybe Darian would only share secrets with Beyonders. Maybe there would be a riddle that only Jason could answer. Maybe only his fingerprint could open the secret vault.

  “We’ll make it,” Jason said. He tried to mean it. He mostly did. It seemed like she needed him to say it. “We’ll find the message from Darian.”

  “I believe that,” Corinne said. “Don’t lose hope.”

  “I won’t.” She was sitting close.

  Corinne patted his hand and rose. “You shouldn’t sit here all night.”

  “Just a little longer.”

  She walked away. Jason stared at the churning sludge, feeling alone. Drake had died specifically for him. A big part of Jason wished that he hadn’t. But it couldn’t be undone. So now the responsibility was on his shoulders to make that mean something.

  * * *

  The next morning, not long after they began riding, the Great Yellow Cone erupted. Water and steam jetted upward for the better part of two hours, infinite droplets glittering in the morning light. By the end the entire conical mount glistened wetly.

  Soon after the Great Yellow Cone went dry, Nia spotted the third messenger eagle returning. Jasher and Aram instantly became alert. As the eagle circled down to Farfalee, Jasher pointed at a distant figure atop a pink ridge, little more than a spe
ck to the naked eye.

  Jason felt dread pooling in the pit of his stomach. That tiny figure in the distance could spell big trouble. Aram had worried from the start that their enemies might find a way to track them using the eagles. Jason looked to the small half giant.

  Aram swiveled his spyglass to where Jasher was pointing. “He has a telescope of his own,” Aram snapped. “He’s waving. He’s turning his horse.”

  “They must have caught the eagle,” Jasher guessed. “They came north and used it to track us.”

  “How could they have caught it?” Farfalee asked. The eagle perched on her arm, eating from her hand. “Eina would not have gone to them willingly. Until I send it with a message, while I remain alive Eina would only come to me.”

  Jason thought she sounded a little defensive. Farfalee had to feel terrible that one of her eagles had given them away. After all, Aram had warned her.

  “It would have taken some craft,” Jasher said. “Does it matter how they managed it? The damage is done. We need to pick up the pace.”

  By sunset they were in the shadow of the Great Yellow Cone. Aram had grown, which made Jason feel a bit safer. Spyglass in hand, Jasher scrambled up the side of the geyser cone. The climb was hundreds of feet. Much of the light had faded before he reached the top.

  “A big group, still riding hard,” Jasher reported upon his return. “Could be as many as thirty riders.”

  “How far back?” Jason asked.

  Jasher inhaled through his teeth. “If we hold still and they ride through the night, they might have us.”

  “Then we had best not keep still,” Farfalee said.

  “We’ll need to take care,” Jasher said. “The Polished Plain lies ahead of us. The ground is thin there. I have always heard that horses are too heavy to cross it, and the information on our most comprehensive map agrees.”

  “Should we think about finding a place to make a stand?” Jason asked. “Try to catch them off guard? Hit them with a rockslide or something?”

  “Thirty is too many,” Aram said. “We only have two orantium spheres. We should first try to outrun them.”

  “How far to the plain?” Farfalee asked.

  “We could be there before sunrise,” Jasher replied.

  “The horses are tired,” Nia said.

  “We won’t ride them hard,” Jasher replied. “We don’t want to attempt the Polished Plain in the dark.”

  After their evening meal they continued riding. There were enough clouds to mute the moon most of the time, forcing Jasher to light a length of seaweed. The glow let them see enough to avoid falling down a hole, but it would also give their pursuers an easy target to follow.

  The worry of enemies behind them kept Jason from feeling too tired. He listened to the strange exhalations of the alien landscape—the burbling of sludge pools, the sighs of steam vents, and the gusty splashing of geysers.

  After they paused for a quick nap and some food, sunrise found them at the edge of a spectacular plain that stretched ahead for miles. Less than an inch of water flowed across the flat, stony expanse, giving the surface a glossy shine. Every color was represented in streaks and swirls, with an emphasis on white, yellow, orange, red, and turquoise. Bubbling springs abounded, the water spreading more than flowing. Steam leaked up from everywhere. Crouching at the edge of the damp plain and extending his hand, Jason found the water lukewarm.

  “We lack a good vantage anywhere close,” Jasher said. “It is hard to judge how far back our pursuers remain. If they rode hard, they will have gained on us. Afoot it could cost us all day to cross the plain. The question becomes whether we proceed with or without our mounts.”

  Jason looked back. He couldn’t see any sign of enemy riders. But they might lope into view at any second.

  “Can we go around?” Del asked.

  Jasher showed the drinling the map. “The plain is long, and it curves around our destination. Going around is not feasible. It might not even be possible.” Jasher folded the map, staring forward. “The entire plain is essentially a frail crust over superheated water. Even without the weight of our mounts we could crash through at any moment. It will be like treading on weak ice.”

  “It’s a good time to be small,” Aram said. “What if we lead the horses?”

  “It’s a risk,” Jasher said. “Cracks can spread. If a horse breaks though, it could start an event that could take all of us with it.”

  “Then we walk,” Farfalee said.

  “Our enemies will have the same choice,” Jasher cautioned. “If they stay mounted, and the ground holds, they will catch us.”

  “Do you think it will hold for horses?” Farfalee asked.

  “No,” Jasher said. “I’m worried whether it will hold for us. If we walk and they ride, I believe theirs will be the greater risk.”

  “Then we walk,” she repeated. “We had best make ready.”

  Working quickly, they took as much of their gear and provisions as they could reasonably carry. Jason checked his saddlebags for any stuff he might have missed. Corinne tried to communicate with the horses to run off and thrive in the wild but didn’t seem optimistic about her success. Del volunteered to lug Aram’s armor. Nia took his enormous sword.

  “It’s heavy,” Aram warned her.

  “I’ll be fine,” Nia said. “If anything, the exertion will just make me stronger.”

  “Tread lightly,” Jasher advised. “If the ground starts to give, fall flat. We’ll walk single file, not too close together. I’ll take the lead.”

  “I’ll bring up the rear,” Del offered.

  Walking behind Farfalee and ahead of Corinne, Jason ventured out onto the Polished Plain. Water splashed gently with each step. Jason noticed that the temperature of the thin layer of water varied from tepid to boiling. He felt tense, aware that he might break through into scalding water at any second. From time to time he sensed the ground creaking beneath him.

  Jasher did not lead them in a straight line. He explained that he was trying to guess the safest ground, based on the presence of springs, venting steam, and the water temperature. He kept well away from the smoldering pools, where the ground had already given way. They advanced in silence, listening for evidence of danger. Several times Jasher edged back carefully as the ground crackled underfoot.

  Jasher tried to keep them in warm water rather than hot, but it was not always possible. Heat radiated from the water and the ground, leaving Jason with lots of empathy for steamed vegetables. A greasy sheen of sweat and vapor clung to him all morning.

  By noon the pursuing riders came into view at the edge of the plain behind them. The intervening steam made the tiny forms shimmer. Thankfully, Jasher had overestimated their numbers. Unfortunately, they were still close to two dozen.

  After milling about at the edge of the plain for several minutes, the riders opted to remain mounted and came cantering toward them. Looking back at the oncoming riders made their progress since dawn feel pathetic.

  Jason resisted the urge to run. At this point it wouldn’t do any good. He couldn’t outrace a horse.

  “We have no cover,” Aram pointed out. “If they reach us, they’ll ride us down.”

  “Fan out,” Jasher said. “Jason, keep your orantium handy. Try to throw it in front of a tight group of riders. Maybe we can help the ground to give. Farfalee, Nia, ready your bows.”

  They spread out, facing their enemies. Jasher held his torivorian sword in one hand and his orantium globe in the other. Jason did likewise. The moisture in the air made the globe feel slippery.

  The horses were charging hard. There were so many! At least the orantium gave Jason some hope of defending himself and his friends. He realized that he would have to throw his globe as far as he could or else he would risk sending his entire group into the boiling lake. He would have to time it just right to take out the maximum number of riders.

  Before long the pursuers had come half the distance from the edge of the plain. Water sprayed up as hoof
s drummed across the steaming ground. The high sun made small shadows beneath them.

  Jason’s mouth was dry. How was he supposed to stand against a bunch of charging horsemen? Farfalee might drop a few riders with her bow. He supposed he would have to try to dodge and slash with his sword as best he could. Hoofs and weaponry would be coming at him all at once. How would he avoid so many threats? Would any of them manage to stand against such a brutal onslaught? This could be the end. Behind the riders, beyond the plain, Jason saw a geyser erupting.

  And then suddenly three of the lead riders disappeared, dropping out of view without warning, flaky fragments of stone flipping up as water splashed high. Other riders sought to slow or swerve, but within seconds a huge section of ground had collapsed, leaving fewer than ten riders on the surface of the plain.

  For a long moment the broken area was a steamy stew of horse heads and flailing arms, but the tumult grew still before long. Dismounting, the remaining pursuers abandoned their horses and proceeded on foot, giving the newly created pool a wide berth.

  Jason glanced over at Corinne. She looked relieved and a little horrified. Her eyes met his.

  “That got my heart rate up,” Jason confessed.

  She sheathed her sword. “I kept thinking, ‘Of course they won’t fall; of course this will be the one time twenty horses gallop across this fragile plain without making a single crack.’ ”

  Aram watched through the spyglass, grinning like a child at the circus. “Eight remain.”

  “I can finish eight with my bow once they come within range,” Farfalee said. “They lack cover, and I have plenty of arrows. The rest of you go on ahead.”

  “You shouldn’t stay back alone,” Jasher said. “What if you lose your seed?”

  “I’ll stay with her,” Nia offered. “I have a bow as well.”

  Jasher nodded. “Wait until they are well within range or they will fall back out of reach. We’ll await you at the far side of the plain. Our departure should lure them forward faster.”

  After wiping the lens of the spyglass on his sleeve, Aram took another look. “None are heavily armored. For Farfalee, filling them with arrows will be like a holiday exhibition.”