Seeds of Rebellion

by Brandon Mull

  “It was hardest after Great-Aunt Madeline died. The solitude felt endless. I would write myself notes from inside the tree. I’m ready to start living. My only memories of an actual life are the blurry recollections of childhood. All I have besides that is what happened day after day on a short stretch of muddy island.”

  “I’ll do my best to make it up to you,” Galloran promised. “Sadly, for the present, we have led you from solitude into peril. But it could not be avoided. Maldor is moving against the guardians of the syllables. Already some have perished. You would not have thwarted assassination attempts forever.”

  “What now?” Drake inquired.

  “We load up as much orantium as we can reasonably carry,” Galloran said. “We’ll spend the night here. The day is waning, and the Drowned City is the last place anyone would look for us. It should take some time for the denizens of the swamp to realize Orruck is gone. Corinne’s mushrooms should also help dissuade bothersome visitors. Then, with the first light of dawn, we’ll hurry away from the Sunken Lands.”

  Standing on muddy ground at the edge of the swamp, Jason peered northward at an imposing wall of mountains. A progression of rugged plateaus climbed from the perimeter of the Sunken Lands to eventually surge skyward in a magnificent upheaval of stone. Somewhere among those sheer faces and lofty crags, an unseen pass granted access to the western gate of the Seven Vales. In the foreground, a lone hawk wheeled and plunged, illuminated by the setting sun.

  Behind and above Jason, a branch snapped. Turning, he looked up to where Nedwin, Ferrin, and Drake advanced along a thick bough, returning from hiding the boats and their cargo of orantium. Thanks to the puffball mushrooms, their trek from the Drowned City to the outskirts of the swamp had been relatively uneventful. Stashing the boats in the swamp had been the last unfinished detail.

  Ferrin held a branch that had broken off in his hand. He released it, and the rotten limb fell to the water, sending ripples across the surface scum. Nedwin reached the top of a nearby tree and started down. Drake and Ferrin followed.

  Jason, Rachel, Corinne, Tark, and little Aram met them at the bottom of the tree. “Everything go all right?” Jason asked.

  “No complications,” Drake reported.

  “Unless you count Nedwin using the vines to attempt some dangerous swings,” Ferrin muttered.

  “I only fell twice,” Nedwin said. “Water is forgiving.”

  The group walked over to Dorsio and Galloran, who sat on opposite sides of a modest pile of orantium globes. Most were the regular sort, no larger than baseballs, but three were the larger gatecrashers.

  “We’re all assembled?” Galloran checked.

  “Yes, sire,” Nedwin replied.

  “Who gets to carry the big ones?” Rachel asked.

  Galloran laid a hand on one of the larger globes. “Dorsio will hold them. The Amar Kabal are a reclusive people. Once I was welcome in their land. But times have changed. Should all else fail, I hope to bribe our way in. In these perilous times, I can think of no currency more valuable than orantium.”

  “They’ll admit you without a gift,” Drake said firmly. “I don’t believe my people hold any living human in higher regard.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Galloran responded. “There are influential voices among your people who may not appreciate what my presence could represent in these uncertain times. The boats are hidden?”

  “They’re well disguised on an obscure little island,” Drake said.

  “Further guarded by the puffball mushrooms,” Ferrin added.

  “Then we should start our journey,” Galloran said. “The sooner we are behind West Gate, the sooner we can rest. I would be surprised if Maldor did not try to apprehend us between here and there. By now he should have anticipated the Seven Vales as our most likely destination.”

  “The territory between the Sunken Lands and our gates remains uninhabited by treaty,” Drake said. “Imperial troops are only supposed to enter with our permission.”

  “Maldor understands the stakes,” Galloran argued. “By heading us off, he can suppress a possible rebellion. He has reason to expect that the Amar Kabal won’t risk a sortie to enforce the treaty.”

  “There was a day when he wouldn’t have chanced it,” Drake murmured darkly.

  “Your people have grown even more withdrawn while you’ve been absent,” Galloran said. “They refuse to risk hostilities with Felrook. Their emphasis has been to fortify the Vales for a defensive stand. They display little interest in events beyond their gates.”

  Drake frowned. “I won’t be much use in persuading them otherwise. I never expected to return. I may find myself even less welcome than Ferrin. By accepting the invitation to Harthenham, I shamed my people. I expect they will vote to exile me.”

  “If so, you will be in good company,” Galloran said. “The finest seedman I know is an exile.”

  “I don’t need their approval,” Drake said. “I just wish I were in a better position to advocate your cause.”

  “First, we need to get there,” Galloran observed. “No sign of the horses?”

  “I’ve been calling,” Rachel said. “I’ll keep trying.”

  “I know many routes from here to West Gate,” Drake said. “By foot or by horse, with a little caution we should be able to cross unobserved.”

  Aram came clinking over to join the group. He had slipped off to transform as the sun set, and now wore his sword, cloak, and armor.

  Galloran turned to him, having heard his approach. “How are you feeling, Aram?”

  “Good as new,” he said, rubbing the corkscrew bruise, which had faded slightly, going greenish along the edges. “I won’t slow us down tonight. But without horses, my gear could pose a problem by morning.”

  “We carried the sword and mail through the marsh,” Tark pointed out.

  “For which I’m grateful,” Aram said. “But speed was not essential there.”

  “We’ll manage,” Tark vowed stoutly. “I’ll lug the sword myself.”

  “I’ll see to your armor,” Ferrin said. “I don’t want to leave you any excuses for not protecting our hides.”

  “It’s appreciated,” Aram said. “I would make my way to the gate at my own pace before I would leave them.”

  Galloran arose. “When it comes to hampering our speed while traveling afoot, I will be our biggest liability. We had best not tarry. Drake will lead the way. Ferrin and Nedwin will assist with scouting. I’m afraid there is no rest for the weary. Let’s cover as much ground as possible by sunrise.”

  CHAPTER 17

  WEST GATE

  The night was dark and breezy when Drake called for a halt. Holding a finger to his lips, his stance showed concern. Listening in silence, Rachel heard distant hoofbeats. Everyone scattered, reaching for their weapons while searching for some degree of cover.

  “All clear,” Nedwin called from an unseen vantage. “They’re ours.”

  Rachel spoke softly in Edomic, calling to the animals. Within a minute or two, three horses came trotting up to her, bathed in soft moonlight. She recognized her mare, the huge stallion Aram had ridden, and Mandibar.

  “You made it!” Rachel exclaimed, hugging and stroking each of the mounts.

  “Do they know where the other horses are?” Jason asked.

  “I’m not Dr. Doolittle,” Rachel replied. “I can send out instructions, but we don’t have conversations.”

  Hopping down off a tall boulder, Nedwin rejoined the group. “There’s no sign of the other mounts.”

  “This is very impressive,” Galloran said. “Rachel obviously issued effective instructions. I did not expect to encounter any of these horses again. I’m afraid they brought some trouble with them.”

  “Trouble?” Jason asked.

  “I sensed a lurker trailing them,” Galloran said. “Its presence only touched my awareness for a moment. The torivor came near enough to identify us, then immediately fled. Already it has moved beyond the reach of my per
ceptions.”

  “If it ran, there must be soldiers within range,” Drake said.

  “Then it’s a race,” Aram said heavily.

  “Oh no,” Rachel said. “If I had known—”

  “Not your fault,” Galloran interrupted. “If torivors were hunting us, it was only a matter of time before they made contact. Only three of our minds are shielded by charms. The horses will help us increase our pace. This may have worked out for the best.”

  “Galloran should ride,” Drake said. “Aram’s horse can carry double. I’ll use Mandibar to scout.”

  “If it comes to it,” Aram said, “we can send Galloran, Jason, Corinne, and Rachel ahead on the three horses.”

  “I’d prefer we all survived,” Galloran said, mounting Rachel’s mare.

  “Rachel, Corinne,” Drake said, swinging astride Mandibar. “You should conserve energy by mounting up as well. You’ll be no burden to Aram’s horse.”

  Rachel climbed the strapping steed. The back felt ridiculously broad. Corinne mounted behind her. “It has been a long time,” she murmured to Rachel.

  “You rode as a child?” Rachel asked.

  “I have fond memories of the activity,” Corinne said. “On this big stallion, I almost feel like a child again.”

  “You and me both,” Rachel said.

  As they got moving, the pace increased dramatically. Aram kept hold of his horse, and Dorsio led the mare. Rachel felt sorry for Jason and all the men as they jogged along. While Drake scouted on Mandibar, Nedwin led the group, and Ferrin roved nearby.

  The moon often vanished behind clouds, making it hard to keep track of the surrounding terrain. Sometimes they progressed across level ground. Other times they weaved among boulders and crags. Occasionally they advanced along the floor of a ravine or followed winding paths up rocky slopes.

  As the night wore on, Tark began to cough. What started as an occasional clearing of his throat grew into deep hacking. For much of the night his coughing would subside when they paused for a break. But as sunrise drew near, they stopped beside a wide stream, and he fell to his hands and knees, coughing and gagging until he hawked up a dark-green wad of phlegm. Rachel turned away from the disgusting mass, wishing she hadn’t glimpsed it.

  “What does his mouth look like?” Galloran inquired.

  Jason stood nearest to him. Tark opened his mouth and flattened his tongue. Jason winced. “His throat looks full of mold. The whole back of his mouth is coated by purplish fuzz.”

  Aram peered over Jason’s shoulder. “Quite a garden you have in there.”

  Rachel resisted the bile rising in her throat at the descriptions. Her hand involuntarily strayed to her neck.

  “Lungrot,” Galloran declared. “Corinne and Rachel should walk for a time. I had hoped to avoid fungal illnesses. Tark will require the horse.”

  “I’m fine,” the musician protested. “Let the ladies ride.”

  Rachel had already slid off to the ground. “It’ll feel good to stretch my legs,” she insisted.

  Corinne followed her example. “I was getting awfully cramped in that saddle.”

  Tark was already hacking miserably again. The fit culminated with a noisy bout of dry heaving.

  “Will he be all right?” Jason asked.

  “The Amar Kabal have skilled healers for such maladies,” Galloran said. “Much will depend on how swiftly we can get him there. Drink, refill your waterskins, and then we should move on.”

  Jason and Rachel went to a slate shelf where water fell in a transparent curtain. Cool water splashed Rachel’s wrists as she disrupted the smooth cascade with her waterskin. The horses drank from the mossy pool below.

  “You look tired,” Rachel told Jason.

  “I wish I could jog and sleep at the same time.”

  “Can’t you?” Ferrin asked, joining them at the little cascade. “I always imagined that you could sleep rolling down a mountainside in a barrel.”

  “I probably could today,” Jason conceded.

  “How’s it look out there?” Rachel asked. She hadn’t seen Ferrin in more than an hour.

  “Quiet,” Ferrin replied. “I haven’t heard Drake in some time. He must have roamed far.”

  “There goes Nedwin,” Aram said, pointing.

  Nedwin was scaling a vertical finger of rock to get a view of the broken countryside. He ascended without hesitation, despite an apparent lack of handholds.

  “How does he do that?” Corinne asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Ferrin muttered.

  Tark erupted in another fit of coughing. His face turned red, veins stood out in his neck, and he began to vomit. Rachel covered her ears until he finished.

  Aram came up to Ferrin. “Do you know which way we’re heading? I thought I might run ahead while I have my size.”

  Rachel glanced at the light gathering on the cloudy horizon. The sun would appear within an hour.

  Ferrin turned to face the craggy mountains. They loomed much closer than they had at dusk, but a broken succession of bluffs and ridges still separated the group from the feet of the real slopes.

  “See the ridge with the notch?”

  “The one above that really square edge?”

  “Exactly. We’re heading around the right side of it, then along a ravine.”

  “Understood. See you there.” Aram took off almost at a sprint, ring mail jangling.

  “All of us should hurry,” Galloran prompted.

  Jason looked up to where Nedwin was descending the spire of rock.

  “Nedwin will catch up,” Ferrin said, patting Jason on the arm. “Why don’t you lead Aram’s horse?”

  They started moving again, with Ferrin in front and Dorsio and Jason guiding the horses. Corinne and Rachel fell into step beside each other.

  “You and Jason both hail from the Beyond?” Corinne asked.

  “We didn’t know each other there,” Rachel replied. “We’re from different areas. But yes, we’re Beyonders.”

  “You seem close.”

  “We’ve been through a lot together.”

  “You seem rather young to be involved with my father.”

  “We didn’t have a lot of choice in the matter,” Rachel said. “It just worked out this way. We can’t be too much younger than you.”

  “I’m nineteen.”

  “How long were you in that tree?”

  “Since I was four.”

  Rachel tried to imagine what it would be like if her only real memories of the world came from age four or younger. “This must all feel really new.”

  Corinne gave a brief laugh, emphasizing the understatement. “I’m not used to company. Or danger. Or changes of scenery. I have vivid, distant memories of my childhood—a nursemaid, a playroom full of wonderful toys, a bed with lacy covers, delicious bowls of chilled fruit floating in cream—culminating with my father smuggling me away in the night. He brought me to a tree in the swamp to visit my great-aunt Madeline. The rest of my life happened somewhere beyond the opening to that tree. Every memory begins when I exit the tree and ends when I enter it. I remember some conversations with my father from my younger days. Then he stopped visiting. I remember conversing with my great-aunt. One memory begins with me dragging her lifeless body out of the tree. I didn’t even know how she had died, until I found the note I had written to myself. Thereafter my only memories pertain to performing exercises with my sword and reading books.”

  “I can barely imagine,” Rachel said.

  “I dreamed of escaping for years,” Corinne sighed. “Now that I’m free, I can hardly believe it. Part of me had begun to suspect I would grow old and die on that muddy little island. Everything has changed so quickly. I barely know how to feel. This might sound silly, but I somehow expected that when I finally did leave the swamp, it would mean the end of my troubles. Father would take me home to a happier, more meaningful life—the hard-earned reward for my patience. I never expected this.”

  “If it’s any consolation,” Rach
el said, “I never expected anything like this either.”

  They picked their way across a rugged stretch; then the route became smoother and their pace increased. Rachel found herself perspiring and breathing hard. How had the others done this all night? No wonder Jason had looked so tired.

  When the sun came up, Rachel paused to stare at the glorious horizon. Beams of sunlight shot through the clouds at dramatic angles, throwing dazzling highlights over the landscape. “Is it always so beautiful?” Corinne asked.

  Rachel realized that the vegetation in the swamp would have blocked out sunrises and sunsets. “It’s an extra-good one,” Rachel replied. “But they’re usually pretty nice.”

  They hurried onward. After hiking through a long, shallow ravine, they found Aram waiting for them, his ring-mail shirt and heavy cloak bundled with his sword. Ferrin called for a halt, perhaps because he had noticed that Corinne looked ready to faint. Rachel felt bad for her. No matter how much Corinne had practiced with her sword and otherwise tried to stay active, it would be tough to get much cardio when trapped on a tiny island.

  While they rested in the shade of an outcrop, drinking from waterskins and catching their breath, Nedwin shouted from a distance that Drake was returning. Within a few minutes, they could hear the horse, and soon Drake rode up on Mandibar.

  “I’ve spotted our enemies,” Drake said, urgency in his tone. “At least forty horsemen riding hard, and another large company of riders coming from farther off.”

  “How close are they?” Galloran asked gravely.

  “We’re much closer to the pass,” Drake said. “I could only spy them from a high lookout miles from here. But in shameless defiance of the treaty, they’re on the main road and riding hard. They’re trying to beat us to West Gate.”

  “We have to get there first,” Galloran said.

  “That or hide in these foothills,” Drake said. “I know the region well.”

  Galloran shook his head. “If they block us from the pass, with a lurker after us and with Maldor adding more soldiers to the hunt, we’ll not stay hidden long.”

  Drake scowled thoughtfully. “You really think the Amar Kabal will remain idle if Maldor brings a major force to their doorstep?”