by Brandon Mull
Jason held his breath, wondering which way Jasher would lean.
“I don’t trust you to keep your word,” Jasher said.
“I can alter my face at will,” the Wanderer said. “My only lasting identity is my honor. I am not lying. Knowing as little as your wife does, what does it cost me to spare her? I will keep her seed safe until this war is over, and then she will be planted. Who knows? She might emerge as the last of your people.”
“How do you propose to claim my amar?” Jasher asked.
“I won’t let you near me,” the Wanderer said. “Let Del execute you and toss me your seed.”
“I would give all my lives for her,” Jasher said. “But to do so now would be folly.”
The seedman flung a knife and rushed forward, his torivorian blade held high. The Wanderer dodged the thrown dagger and plunged his blade into the seed. Jason felt as if the blade had entered his own body. Casting the seed aside, the Wanderer barely had time to draw Heg’s sword before Jasher reached him.
The blades clashed furiously. Del and Nia followed Jasher, but hung back. The narrowness of the island made it hard for more than one attacker to engage the Wanderer unless they did so from the water.
Jason held his orantium globe ready, but there was no way to harm the Wanderer with Jasher in the way. He could hardly believe the Wanderer had stabbed the seed. That simple act had permanently extinguished lifetimes of existence. Another of his friends had fallen.
The Wanderer tried to stab Jasher with his dagger and lost his hand in the attempt. The severed hand dissolved into ashen dust. Jasher pressed a graceful attack, but the Wanderer defended himself with alarming skill. With a shake of his damaged arm, a new hand replaced the lost one.
“Watch the combat for an opening,” Aram whispered to Jason. “Groddic stands between us and the waterfall, but while we keep him busy, you could make a run for it. Only one of us needs to survive.”
“He can turn into anything he wants,” Jason said. “He’d catch me before I went far, whether or not he had to interrupt the fight. We have to beat him.”
“Are you about to grow?” Corinne asked Aram.
“Another minute or two,” Aram replied, stripping off his clothes. “I should get my armor ready.”
Jasher stabbed the Wanderer through the chest, the blade sinking deep, but had to lunge back to avoid a counterstroke. The fight went on. The Wanderer appeared indifferent to the injury.
“We have to cut him to pieces!” Jasher yelled. “No other wound will harm him.”
“Many have tried,” the Wanderer boasted with a laugh. “I’ve lost minor portions of myself over the years. More than enough remains to punish the lot of you.”
Del and Nia had splashed into the river to get behind the Wanderer, but the shape-shifter fell back to the tip of the island, preventing them from attacking on dry ground. To further complicate matters, the Wanderer sprouted a heavy tail with a bony bulge at the end and used it to threaten the drinlings. Nia hit the bony knob with her sword, and the weapon flew from her hands.
“He has eyes in the back of his head!” Del exclaimed. “Literally!”
“I’m just getting started,” the Wanderer laughed.
With a muffled groan Aram started to grow.
The Wanderer’s tongue shot out from his mouth and coiled around Jasher’s neck. Jasher slashed through it, and the severed portion disintegrated, but the seedman was late blocking the next thrust, and the Wanderer impaled him.
Dropping to his knees, Jasher cut off the Wanderer’s legs at the thighs. The Wanderer thumped to the ground and lunged into the river. He did not surface. Del and Nia looked around intently, swords poised.
Still transfixed by the sword, eyes full of pain and frustration, Jasher looked back at Jason. “The amar can be resilient. We can’t know the extent of the damage. Plant her immediately. I . . . I still have—”
His sentence was interrupted when his amar dislodged, bouncing off the island and into the water. Jasher slumped lifelessly.
Upstream from everyone, the Wanderer arose from the river. Heg’s clothes were gone. His head looked like Groddic, but he was notably shorter. A flexible black shell covered his body like armor. He held no weapon.
Corinne leaped into the water and grabbed Jasher’s amar before it could float away. His transformation complete, Aram dashed along the island toward the Wanderer, his enormous sword in hand, his armor jingling.
Rushing upstream, Del reached the Wanderer first. The drinling hacked at his chest, but the black armor withstood the blow. Clamping an arm against his side, the Wanderer trapped the blade; then spikes sprouted on his free fist, and he killed Del with a punch to the head. The Wanderer kept the captured sword.
Nia fell back, sloshing noisily. “That shell is tough!” she warned everyone.
“Titan crab,” the Wanderer said bemusedly. “I often reinforce my bones with the remarkable substance. The shell of the titan crab is the most durable biological material I have encountered. I’ll use excessive quantities of it inside of me to disguise my mass when I wish to appear smaller.”
“Are you doing that now?” Aram thundered. He waited at the end of the island. “You’re looking tinier.”
“Jasher robbed me of some mass,” the Wanderer agreed. “And it cost me some size to armor myself like this. Come test your sword against me, half man.”
“I think I’ll keep the high ground,” Aram replied.
“I’m between you and your destination,” the Wanderer replied. “I am in no hurry. Much like Heg, I require no sleep.”
Nia fell back to behind Aram and climbed onto the island. She retrieved Jasher’s torivorian sword.
“We have time as well,” Aram said. “I’ll not be baited.”
The Wanderer laughed. “Three of you have already perished. I could slay the rest of you a thousand ways.” He dropped beneath the water.
“To me,” Aram said.
Swords ready, Jason and Corinne dashed forward to stand beside Nia and the half giant. “I have orantium,” Jason said.
“Don’t use it too close to us,” Aram said. “Jasher had a globe too. Might be worth retrieving.” He crouched and slid Farfalee’s torivorian sword from its sheath. “When the shape-shifter surfaces, fall back and let me deal with him. I won’t let him win.”
Kneeling and scrabbling, Corinne searched for Jasher’s sphere. Jason scanned the surface of the river.
The Wanderer burst from the water and landed at the other end of the island. For a moment he had gill slits at his neck, but they were abruptly covered by the glossy black carapace. He still held Del’s sword.
Jason flung the orantium sphere low, at his feet. The Wanderer dove forward and caught it in an enlarged, softened hand. Rising to his knees, his hand returning to its normal size, the Wanderer threw the globe back at them.
Dropping his swords, Aram flung Corinne and Jason into the river. Nia dove forward, smothering the globe with her body as it struck the rocky ground.
Jason missed seeing the explosion. He heard it from under the water. When he surfaced, Nia was gone, and Aram lay at the edge of the island, one leg in the river, the side of his face blackened and caked with blood. The Wanderer charged him.
Jason heaved himself from the water. If the Wanderer killed Aram while the half giant was down, they were all dead. Jason got to his feet and gripped his sword as the Wanderer approached at full speed, eyes enraged. Jason had never felt more intimidated, but he stood his ground.
The Wanderer’s sword swept toward him. Leaning forward, Jason met the blade with a strong blow from his own. Despite the Wanderer’s sprint and the strength of his swing, he came to a skidding halt as his sword was knocked back by the impact. For a moment the Wanderer was unprotected. Advancing, Jason issued a quick counterstroke, narrowly missing but forcing the Wanderer to retreat a pace.
Their swords began to clash fiercely. Jason was mildly surprised to not be immediately cut down. He was mostly on the defensiv
e, slowly giving ground, but he managed to sneak in a few attack strokes. Without the torivorian sword, Jason doubted he could have resisted the heavy blows or swung quickly enough to match the Wanderer’s speed. Each slash he survived increased his confidence.
The combat felt different from how he had expected. There was no time to feel nervous. He knew he was fighting for his life, and to protect Aram and Corinne, but all he could focus on was blocking the next blow and watching for chances to attack. There was no time to plan or to give conscious thought to form or footwork. There was barely time to react, and occasionally a narrow opening to strike.
As the fight progressed, Jason felt less and less like he was holding his own. His wrists and elbows began to ache. The Wanderer was so quick and used moves and feints Jason had never encountered. Jason improvised defensive blows and dodged as best he could, but he began to feel sloppy, like he had lost his balance and was about to fall.
Then Corinne attacked Groddic from behind. The shelled warrior turned to confront her, allowing Jason a moment to recover. Her blade kept him busy.
Jason saw the Wanderer staring at him with a large pair of golden eyes on the back of his head. For the moment his rear was unguarded. And clearly Corinne needed help. Jason lunged forward as a tail sprouted from the center of the Wanderer’s back. Just before the tip of Jason’s sword could reach the Wanderer, the heavy bulge at the end of the tail slammed into Jason’s shoulder like a mace, sending him splashing into the river.
Jason surfaced in time to see the Wanderer thump Corinne with his tail while he had her occupied with his sword. She tumbled into the water as well. Teeth bared, the Wanderer wheeled on Aram.
Crawling forward shakily, Aram grabbed Farfalee’s torivorian sword, as well as the torivorian sword Nia had dropped. With one side of his leather cloak charred and tattered, the half giant rose unsteadily to meet the attack.
The Wanderer lunged and stabbed at Aram’s chest. Raising both swords high, the half giant made no attempt to block the thrust. Instead, he pivoted, so the Wanderer’s sword struck his coat of rings at an angle. The tip scraped across the armor, failing to penetrate.
Aram brought the torivorian swords down viciously, severing both of the Wanderer’s arms at the shoulders, slicing neatly through the chitinous casing. As the Wanderer struggled to recover, Aram paced forward, torivorian blades hacking in rapid sweeps. Chunks of the Wanderer flew free, turning to dust when parted from his central bulk.
Shrinking as he sprouted new arms, the Wanderer tried a punch and lost the new appendage. The other limb broadened into a defensive rectangle of titan-crab shell, but Aram cleaved it in half. As the Wanderer spun to flee, a brutal horizontal slash bisected him at the waist. The bottom half of the Wanderer crumbled, and Aram savagely attacked what remained. A few more swings, and there was nothing left to cut.
The half giant sank to his knees, breathing hard, as Jason and Corinne returned to the island. Jason’s shoulder ached, but he hardly felt the pain through his enormous relief.
“Want to know one of the many things I learned from Drake?” Aram asked without facing them. “With enough force behind them, torivorian blades can tear through the shells of titan crabs. The Wanderer appeared surprised. He had formed a thick shell, and was reinforcing it wherever the blades landed.”
“Are you all right?” Corinne asked.
Aram glanced down at himself. “I’ll live. I lunged away and got low while Nia shielded me from the worst of the blast. You two bought me enough time to recover. Thanks.”
“I shouldn’t have thrown it,” Jason said, his insides writhing.
“You did the right thing,” Aram assured him. “There was no way to anticipate what happened. You aimed low. You did it right. We had to try orantium. The shape-shifter was starting to look unbeatable. He caught the sphere, and Nia paid a price to protect us. That fight could have gone either way, Jason. We got lucky at the end. You two were magnificent. You crossed swords with the Wanderer and will live to tell the tale. I tried to act more stunned than I really was, and the Wanderer took the bait. He expected to finish me quickly. And I suspect he was overconfident about his shell armor. I would wager he has killed many an opponent while they fruitlessly strike at him.”
“Are you all right?” Jason asked Corinne.
“I was using Drake’s breastplate,” she said. “The tail struck me there. How about your shoulder?”
Jason shrugged it, rolled it, and rubbed it. “Sore, but I don’t think he broke anything. It might turn an interesting color.”
“We got off easy,” Aram grunted. “Others paid the price.”
“Farfalee,” Jason remembered. “Jasher thought she might have a chance if we plant her quickly.”
Corinne went and gingerly collected the seed from where the Wanderer had tossed it aside. She held it in her palm while Jason and Aram investigated it. The casing was split on one side. There was no telling how deep the knifepoint had penetrated.
“I’m no expert at growing seedfolk,” Aram announced, “but this island seems to be little more than a rock pile. All of the ledges and other islands have been similar. I have seen nothing growing down here. There is no soil, and infrequent sunlight.”
“You’re right,” Jason said. “It won’t do her any good to bury her seed under barren rocks.”
“Back by the lake,” Corinne said. “On the other side of the caverns there were some fertile areas by the lakeside. At least as fertile as the Fuming Waste gets.”
“I won’t fit through those caves until after dawn,” Aram said.
“I can do it,” Corinne offered. “I was paying attention to the way.”
“I was trying to do the same,” Aram said. “There were some puzzling junctions. You don’t want to get lost in there.”
“There could be fertile ground up ahead,” Jason said.
“Possible,” Aram allowed, “though not likely based on what I’ve seen.”
Corinne had crouched to rifle through Jasher’s pack. “Here is his orantium,” she said, holding up the last of their spheres. Setting the globe aside, she kept searching. “I know Farfalee translated the directions. They must be in here somewhere. Here we go.” She produced the pages of notes. “Thankfully, he kept them dry.”
“I should double-check what I need to do,” Jason said.
Holding a glowing strand of seaweed close, Corinne scanned the writing. “I see nothing they failed to tell us. The entrance is under the waterfall. You should enter alone and unarmed. If you are unworthy, you won’t survive. There are no further details.”
“I hope I’m worthy,” Jason said.
“I’ve been watching all of this closely,” Aram said. “That oracle knew her business. If I harbored any doubts before, they have flown. We would not have made it this far without each person she selected. Drake stopped the duel with the torivor. Corinne got rid of the spying lurker. Jason figured out how to defeat the Maumet. Farfalee translated the scroll. And the Wanderer required a team effort. Jasher weakened it. Nia shielded us. That same oracle who chose our team wanted you here, Jason. She would not have sent you to perish as an unworthy trespasser. I don’t expect this seer has ever had a more worthy visitor.”
The reasoning brought Jason comfort.
“I should go,” Corinne said. “I want to get Farfalee and Jasher in the ground.”
“It will be dangerous,” Aram said. “You won’t be able to start immediately after an eruption.”
“I would face the same peril whenever I return,” Corinne said.
“Let me study the instructions,” Aram said. “I paid close attention, and I have a reliable sense of direction. Give me a moment to memorize what I need. Then you bring these pages with you and wait for us on the far side.”
“Are you sure you can make it though without them?” Corinne asked.
“I could probably retrace our route even without studying the instructions,” Aram claimed. “As we came through, I looked back often. Give me a mom
ent.”
The half giant sat staring at the writing, one finger sliding across the words, his lips moving occasionally. At times he would close his eyes, move his lips, and then check himself. Finally, he handed the pages back to Corinne. “Keep out of sight on the other side.”
“I’ll be careful,” Corinne promised. She gave Jason a hug. “You be careful too.”
“We’ll see you soon,” Jason said.
CHAPTER 26
THE NARROW WAY
It was well into the afternoon before superheated water spewed from the mouth of the Scalding Caverns. At first Jason heard a wet hissing, followed by a sloshing that reminded him of Jugard’s cave by the sea. Then foamy water began to drool from the irregular gap along the juncture where the rocky slope straightened into a cliff. The flow of sizzling slaver increased, first gushing, then raging, gusting out in a sideways geyser.
After maybe ten minutes the steamy torrent began to slacken, calming until white froth ceased to bubble from the dark opening. As more minutes passed, the hissing and gurgling diminished until the cave became still. All that remained of the impressive eruption was the moisture glistening on the stony slope, the wetness rather narrow at the cave mouth, then widening until the slope ended at the shore of a sizable lake.
“We’re going in there?” Nia asked incredulously.
“Now is the safest moment,” Farfalee said. “The instructions specified that the best time to enter is immediately following an eruption.”
They had awaited the event for hours. Farfalee and Jasher had already explained that they had to move through the Scalding Caverns quickly. The directions detailed every twist and turn of their route and emphasized that there were several points along the way where additional eruptions could occur. The timing of when scalding water would flood the caverns was inconstant, so the suggested strategy was to make no wrong turns and keep a brisk pace.
The entrance to the caverns was tucked up against an intimidating wall of cliffs that impeded access to the rugged mountains beyond. If they made it through to the far side of the caverns, they would supposedly exit into a tall, narrow ravine that would lead them to Darian.