Seeds of Rebellion

by Brandon Mull

  “You spoke directly to the stone,” Rachel noted. “You didn’t call a force to push it. You just told it where to go.”

  “Observant,” Chandra said. “I name the object or the material I mean to move, then tell it where to move by speaking a command and visualizing a trajectory. I can’t tell you why it works. My mother had the same knack, as did her mother as well. I’ve been doing it since childhood.”

  “Can I try?” Rachel said.

  “Be my guest,” Chandra replied, folding her thin, sinewy arms. “Do you need me to repeat the phrase?”

  “I think I have it,” Rachel said.

  “Then try to push something.” Based on her stance and expression, Jason thought that Chandra expected Rachel to have trouble.

  Rachel extended her hand toward the same stone block Chandra had tipped, focused on it, and said the words. The block flipped end over end, tumbling heavily across the grassy ground, crashing against irregularities in the terrain before wobbling to a rest twenty yards away.

  Chandra gasped, wide eyes darting from the block to Rachel and then back. “You were having sport with me. You’ve done this before.”

  Rachel smiled self-consciously, clearly pleased and embarrassed. “I’ve been practicing other types of Edomic,” she explained. “But I’ve never done this. I pushed as hard as I could, because the block seemed so heavy.”

  “Even in an ideal location such as this,” Galloran said, coming around from behind one of the walls, feeling his way with a walking stick, “you mustered significant power.”

  “How could you tell?” Rachel asked.

  “I didn’t see the stone, but I could sense the energy you brought to bear and perceive the force that shoved it. And I heard it roll. How long have you been practicing Edomic?”

  “Maybe five weeks.”

  Chandra huffed. “Unbelievable.”

  “She hasn’t been in our world more than a few months,” Galloran reminded the cook. “Rachel, I understand you can call fire with considerable aptitude.”

  “And I can give directions to animals. And I helped the charm woman enchant a decoy doll to fool the lurker.”

  Galloran rubbed his lips. “I take it you have not encountered an Edomic phrase that you could not employ.”

  “Not yet,” Rachel agreed. “There are limits to what I can do with any phrase.”

  Galloran smiled. “We have a true adept in our midst. Rachel, your natural gift is the material from which wizards are made.”

  “The charm woman thought so too. She wanted me to be her apprentice.”

  Galloran nodded. “She could have taught you many things. Ideally, you would be apprenticed to a true wizard—one who could school you in the finer points of Edomic. Sadly, with Maldor representing the last of his order, no such teacher remains. Rachel, an innate faculty for Edomic is so rare that we may have found why the oracle wanted you here. Simply by mastering the limited phrases that have survived as a kind of folk magic, through practice, you could become formidable.”

  “Why do you think I’m here?” Jason asked.

  Galloran chuckled. “We already have our proof through your deeds, Lord Jason. You discovered that the Word is a fraud. That act alone makes your contribution incalculable.”

  “Does that mean my part is done?” he wondered.

  Galloran pondered the question. “You want to know if you can go home?”

  “No,” Jason said reflexively, ashamed to look like a coward in front of a man like Galloran. “I mean, well, we had thought about it.”

  “Ferrin knows a way to the Beyond,” Rachel said.

  Galloran nodded. “As I have expressed before, I wouldn’t blame either of you for going home if you find a way. Nor would I have blamed you for staying there, Jason, had you done so.”

  “I couldn’t help overhearing,” Ferrin said, approaching the conversation. “We know a way to the Beyond, but Maldor is aware that we know. In my efforts to ferret out what Maldor suspects, I learned that the investigation surrounding your escape led trackers to the cave. The entrance will now be sealed and guarded. There will be walls and locks and numerous redundancies. Maldor knows the secret is out, which means that from now on he will rely on strength to protect his gateway to your world. The cave lies in the shadow of Felrook, where he can access nearly limitless resources to protect it. The day may come when we could go there, but it would require significant reconnaissance and preparation. Otherwise we’ll march straight into captivity.”

  Jason felt some of his hopes wither. Ferrin was right. As the most wanted criminals in Lyrian, they couldn’t hastily travel to the center of Maldor’s power and expect to access a heavily guarded location. Glancing at Rachel, Jason could tell she had reached the same conclusion.

  “Don’t lose heart,” Galloran said. “I vow that when the time is right, I will do everything in my power to get you both back to the Beyond. In truth, the biggest obstacle was finding a way. The only remaining hurdle will be formulating a workable strategy.”

  “If our rebellion succeeds,” Chandra said, “they would have easy access.”

  “Perhaps even before then,” Galloran said. “For now, we will try to survive until we reach the Seven Vales. One crisis at a time. Chandra, I want you and Rachel to spend every waking moment together. Teach her all you know about Edomic. Help her continue to develop, and make sure she understands the danger of failed commands.”

  “It will be done,” Chandra said.

  “Jason, I want you to start learning to use that sword. You are surrounded by superior tutors.”

  “I’d like that,” Jason said.

  “I’ll mentor him,” Ferrin pledged.

  “Off to it then,” Galloran said. “Let the others set up camp.”

  The next morning, not long after the nine riders left the valley, Nedwin found them. Ferrin had been scouting ahead, and he returned to the group with the lanky redhead riding close behind.

  “Nedwin!” Galloran welcomed. “I thought we were to meet at Three Peaks.”

  “I came south from there, hoping to intercept you,” Nedwin replied. “A massive ambush awaits near Three Peaks, staged across all four southern valleys.”

  “You made it to Whitelake?” Galloran asked.

  “Yes. The lake was taxing, but I crossed.”

  “Malar?”

  “I discovered his lifeless head in a pool of cold water. He had been drowned. He would have been defenseless. I doubt he died more than a day or two before my arrival.”

  Galloran’s expression tightened painfully. “Tell me more about the ambush. Were you spotted?”

  “I avoided detection. They had a massive host entrenched, cunningly disguised, as if certain of our imminent arrival. Archers, manglers, cavalry—you name it.”

  “We would have arrived by late afternoon,” Galloran said numbly.

  Holding a finger to his lips, Ferrin guided his horse over to Galloran. “A lurker must have been eavesdropping. We’ll loop around to the west. We may want to consider revising our entire strategy. Who knows what plans have been compromised?” He reached out and squeezed Galloran’s shoulder.

  “Very well,” Galloran said decisively. “I’ll need some time to strategize. Perhaps we can make for Port Hamblin, try to solicit allies in Meridon. We’ll still want to send some messengers elsewhere. Give me time to mull this over.”

  Ferrin dismounted, a finger still to his lips, and tugged Galloran’s sleeve. Galloran dismounted and accompanied Ferrin. Dorsio followed them silently. They moved into the trees out of earshot, and did not return for several minutes.

  When they came back, Ferrin motioned for Jason to join him. The displacer kept a finger to his lips. Jason remained silent.

  Once they were separated from the group, Ferrin combed probing fingers through Jason’s hair, then meticulously inspected his face. Ferrin pulled Jason’s eyelids uncomfortably open and peered into his mouth. After miming for Jason to take off his shirt, Ferrin closely and carefully exam
ined his body, like a doctor giving a physical.

  “You’re not the problem,” Ferrin finally said.

  “Can we talk now?” Jason asked, putting his shirt back on.

  “I inspected Galloran and Dorsio,” Ferrin said. “Neither of them had invasive graftings either.”

  “Graftings?”

  “Meaning that no displacers had attached unwelcome body parts to them. Replaced an eye. Added an ear. There is a risk that any prisoner of Maldor could end up with a secret grafting. If a displacer’s eye were exchanged for one of yours while you were unconscious, the eye would function and feel just like your own. Except the displacer would see through it as well.”

  “It might not be a grafting,” Jason said. “You may have been right about a lurker overhearing us.”

  “Galloran can sense lurkers,” Ferrin replied. “After I checked him for graftings, he confirmed that none have come near us. Besides, lurkers aren’t known for sharing detailed information. Either somebody has a grafting, or we have a deliberate traitor among us.”

  “Nedwin was imprisoned at Felrook.”

  “Galloran just told me Nedwin has a grafting. An eye on his hand, under the glove. Supposedly the glove has not been removed since he first met you. But he could always have another.”

  So that was what Nedwin had kept hidden under his glove! A grafted eye. “Tark?” Jason said.

  “Doubtful. He was only imprisoned at Harthenham. Nobody would have expected him to leave, so a grafting would probably not be wasted on him. But I’ll check everyone to be sure.”

  “I’m clean?”

  “Yes,” Ferrin said. “I’ll check Nedwin next. Keep quiet about all of this for now.”

  “I will.”

  Jason returned to the group, and Ferrin led away Nedwin. Ferrin returned alone and consulted quietly with Galloran. One by one, Ferrin led away the others, and one by one they came back. At the end, Ferrin gave Rachel a cursory exam without leading her away. Nedwin still had not returned.

  “Nedwin has a false ear,” Ferrin reported at last. “It’s an almost perfect match in shape, size, and skin tone. Terrific work. Anything less than a thorough exam by a trained eye would miss it.”

  “It explains much,” Galloran said. “The grafted ear must be how Maldor learned what information Tark had brought us from Jason. Also why the emperor moved against Jugard and Malar shortly before Nedwin arrived to retrieve them. Not to mention why our foes have put their recent efforts into the ambush.”

  “Which would have succeeded had Nedwin not discovered it,” Ferrin said.

  “Can you take off the ear?” Tark asked.

  “I can. It shouldn’t even be too hard. As is common with ears, the grafting is shallow. The inner workings of the ear still belong to Nedwin.”

  “Then how can the displacer hear with it?” Jason asked.

  “The external portion of the ear gathers the sound vibrations,” Ferrin said. “While sharing the same outer ear, the inner ear of the displacer receives the same vibrations as Nedwin’s inner ear. When we remove the ear, Nedwin should manage to retain much of his hearing on that side.”

  Rachel winced.

  Jason rubbed his ear, trying not to wonder how it would feel to have it cut off.

  “But we’ll wait to remove the ear,” Galloran said.

  “We’ll keep Nedwin away from any serious discussions,” Ferrin said. “And we’ll do our best to stage planning sessions full of misinformation.”

  “You two already started,” Rachel said.

  “Right,” Ferrin said. “Thankfully Galloran followed my lead.”

  “Then we’ll be looping around Three Peaks to the east,” Aram said.

  “And going nowhere near Port Hamblin,” Ferrin confirmed. “We’ll still proceed with caution, in case the displacer realizes that we’ve caught on.”

  “You’ve done us a great service, Ferrin,” Galloran said. “Had that ear gone undetected, it could have undone us. Thank you.”

  “Just doing my job,” Ferrin replied. “I’ve already explained the situation to Nedwin by whispering in his authentic ear. He’s been serving as a scout, and he should simply continue in that role. It will keep him far from our more delicate conversations.”

  “We’ll proceed to the Sunken Lands as previously planned,” Galloran said. “But we’ll mask our movements with a persistent flow of misleading conversations. We should get underway. Given the forces awaiting us, we’re closer to Three Peaks than I would prefer.”

  Several days later, Jason stood before Ferrin, gripping his sword in a sweaty palm. They faced each other in a clearing encompassed by tall trees. Daylight was waning. While he worked with Ferrin, and Rachel practiced with Chandra, the others were setting up camp.

  “You really want me to attack?” Jason asked.

  So far their sparring sessions had entailed Jason learning footwork while defending himself against a blunted practice sword Galloran had lent to Ferrin. The dummy blades were made of metal, and it hurt when Ferrin poked or clipped him.

  “You’ve been waiting for this,” Ferrin said, swishing his practice sword. “Attack me with all you have. Give no thought to defense. I won’t bruise you. Mark me if you can.”

  Unlike previous practices, today Jason held his real sword. Ferrin had insisted that as a displacer, he could avoid serious wounds from an edged weapon.

  Implementing the stance Ferrin had taught him, Jason balanced himself, knees slightly bent, ready to move in any direction. “I just come at you?”

  “With everything you have. You’ve been asking me to let you attack. Here’s your opportunity.”

  “Lop off his head, Jason!” Aram called.

  Jason edged forward warily.

  “I’m on the defensive,” Ferrin reminded him. “You must bring the fight to me.”

  Jason nervously chewed the lining of his mouth. He wished Aram weren’t watching. He began tentatively, somewhat concerned about injuring his teacher.

  “This is embarrassing,” Ferrin goaded, slapping Jason’s sword aside.

  Jason put more power into his swings, and his sword began to clash with Ferrin’s, the blades ringing through the clearing.

  “Attack me, not my sword,” Ferrin said.

  That proved tricky, since the sword was always in the way.

  “Don’t fret about a counterattack,” Ferrin encouraged. “Take advantage of the situation. Use reckless abandon. I will not strike at you.”

  Jason pressed in closer, hacking wildly. The displacer stood his ground, deflecting blows directed at his neck, chest, and legs. Jason broke his rhythm of chopping and suddenly lunged forward, stabbing at Ferrin’s heart. The displacer casually parried the thrust.

  “Better,” Ferrin said. “Now show me some real vigor.”

  Jason charged, his blade hissing through the air. Instead of intercepting the blow with his sword, the displacer dodged away. Jason stayed after him. Relying on clever footwork and feinting, Ferrin evaded every swing without using his sword. Jason began to tire.

  “Are you appreciating the beauty of defensive footwork?” Ferrin asked.

  Jason nodded, brushing sweaty strands of hair away from his eyes.

  “Had enough?” Ferrin inquired. “This may be the only time I allow you to engage me recklessly.”

  Forgetting all caution, ignoring proper footwork, Jason rushed the displacer, getting so close before swinging that he could not imagine the displacer merely dodging the blow. But Ferrin ducked and spun away. Jason kept after him, grunting as he wielded his sword like a baseball bat, swinging relentlessly.

  Finally compelled to use his sword again, Ferrin deflected the mighty strokes. “You have strength,” the displacer conceded. “Issue blows like that, and an unprepared opponent might drop his weapon.”

  Jason kept coming. Eluding an overzealous swing, the displacer patted Jason on the shoulder. “Of course, swinging too hard can also leave you defenseless.”

  After a final energetic onsl
aught, Jason stepped back, panting. “I’m done.”

  “You showed tenacity,” Ferrin said.

  “You were impossible to touch.”

  “I was entirely on the defensive. I could have held you off all night. Or slain you any number of times. The best openings often occur when an opponent is on the offensive. Go practice footwork.”

  Jason felt silly, dancing around alone with his sword, going through all the drills Ferrin had taught him. He took some relief in the fact that Lyrian had no video recorders or Internet connections.

  It had been fun attacking Ferrin. Jason wished he could have surprised him by penetrating his defenses, but consoled himself that his inability to do so was evidence that he was learning from the best. The displacer really was a great teacher: patient, direct, specific, and very knowledgeable. Drake and Aram had provided pointers as well, but Ferrin had proved to be the most thorough and methodical instructor and had supervised most of the tutoring.

  While working in solitude on his swordsmanship, Jason glanced over to where Rachel and Chandra were using Edomic to break dead tree limbs. Before going to sleep at night, Jason privately kept trying to ignite dry twigs or leaves with the phrase Rachel had taught him, but had never even made anything warm. He had temporarily worried that perhaps the Word had failed against Maldor due to his lack of ability, but then he remembered that all of the syllables had vanished from memory after he spoke them together, so he must have said it well enough.

  Sweaty and tired, Jason finally quit his exercises, joining the others around a small fire. Drake, Ferrin, and Nedwin had proved so adept at steering the group away from enemies that Jason often forgot they were on the run.

  Aram sat, meticulously honing his sword. Dorsio reclined beside Galloran, the two of them eating dried meat and dense bread. Ferrin warmed a skewer of vegetables over the fire. Scowling, Tark whittled, cross-legged on a blanket. Drake leaned against a tree, eyes half closed, irises sliding eerily back and forth. From experience, Jason knew that the trancelike state was as close as seedmen came to sleeping. Nedwin was away scouting. Rachel and Chandra had yet to stop practicing.