by Brandon Mull
“Hear you out? How about see you out! Be gone!”
Harvan walked up to her. Cole and Winston hung back. “Prescia,” he said calmly. “You’re more beautiful than ever.”
“Sweet talk?” she cried. “Don’t even try, Harvan. When has flattery been anything but camouflage for a trap?”
“When it’s sincere,” Harvan said, taking her hand swiftly and giving it a slow kiss, his eyes on hers.
“I have gone to extreme lengths to protect this hideout,” Prescia said with a little less agitation. “How could you?”
“This is Winston Proust, my longtime associate and most trusted companion. The boy is . . . well, examine the boy and you’ll understand why we’re here.”
Prescia narrowed her eyes at Harvan, then turned her gaze to Cole. “Come forward, lad. What is your name?”
“Cole Randolph.”
“Give me your hand.”
Cole extended one arm. Her veiny hands had long fingers with short nails. Up close, she smelled like spices with a hint of smoke. The skin of her face looked stretched and shiny.
“You’re alive,” Cole said.
“A bright echo, yes,” she replied. “I’m not a former Grand Shaper yet. I’d like to keep it that way.”
She traced his palm with her fingers, turned his hand over, then turned it back. Crouching, she gazed into his eyes. Hers were long, the outside corners tilting slightly up. He studied the rings and flecks of color in her amber irises.
“You’ve met a version of Dandalus,” Prescia said, surprised.
“The guy in the Founding Stone,” Cole said.
“How is that possible?” she asked.
“Owandell was using the Founding Stone to communicate with Nazeem,” Cole said. “I snuck into their secret meeting, but they found me. When I touched the Founding Stone, Dandalus helped me escape.”
Prescia ran a fingertip from Cole’s palm to his wrist. Suddenly, she gripped his hand tightly, and her head turned to Harvan. “He’s had contact with the Mare! Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Showmanship,” Harvan said simply, giving a toothy smile. “Are you less angry?”
“Possibly,” Prescia said, her eyes returning to Cole. “How did you encounter the Mare?”
“She saved me,” Cole said. “Twice. Once in the normal world, once here. At least I think it was the same horse. Both times she drove away bad guys who were trying to capture me. In the normal world, she looked a little fierier, but that was at night. Here she let me ride her.”
Prescia gasped. “She did? Yes, she did. Interesting. What do you know of the Mare?”
“I thought it was weird she could be in the afterlife and the normal world,” Cole said. “Could one be her echo? Also, the colors of her coat kind of flow like smoke.”
“You have no notion how she came to be?” Prescia inquired.
“Not really,” Cole said. “But she’s my favorite horse ever.”
“Why are you here in the echolands?” Prescia asked.
“I’m looking for Destiny,” Cole said.
“Destiny tends to find us all,” Prescia said.
“Your niece Destiny,” Cole clarified.
Prescia looked at Harvan, who appeared smug. “Yes, I see,” she said. She released Cole. “Winston, your hand.”
Winston complied. She examined it front and back. “You can weave here.”
“I have some talent for it,” Winston said.
She stared into his eyes. “Will you divulge my whereabouts to anyone?”
“Not under torture,” Winston said. “Not if imprisoned for a thousand years.”
She threw his hand down. “He means it. But how can one ever be sure? People mean what they say until they have reasons to change their minds. Everyone disappoints. Everyone fails you.”
“Not us,” Harvan said.
Prescia swiveled toward her doorway. “Is that so? Come on, you dashing ignoramus. Let’s move this discussion indoors.”
Cole followed her into the cottage. A bedroom was visible through an open door. The tidy living room had a bench and a wooden rocking chair. Prescia gestured at the bench and claimed the rocker. Cole sat down beside Harvan and Winston.
“You are damaged, Cole,” Prescia said.
“My power was attacked by Morgassa when we defeated her,” Cole said. “Can you fix it?”
“No, my boy, the damage exceeds anything I could remedy,” Prescia said. “You’re from Outside. You wish to return home.”
“Yeah,” Cole said. “How’d you know?”
“It’s what she does,” Harvan said.
“Not that anyone bothers to listen,” Prescia said. “Want to know the quickest way to deafen people? Tell them the truth.”
“Do you know where we can find Destiny?” Cole asked.
“What about finding your way home?” Prescia countered.
“Time for that later,” Cole said. “One crisis at a time.”
“After you find Destiny?” Prescia asked.
“No, then I have to find Honor and Mira and help them defeat Stafford and Nazeem.” He didn’t even mention the part about saving Jace and Joe from whatever they were currently facing. It was embarrassing to admit how much trouble his mistake with Sando had caused, and how many people he needed to save in order to make up for it.
“Tell me about Honor and Mira,” Prescia said.
Cole explained how Honor and Mira had ended up in the echolands. He told about Durny looking for Mira. And he shared how Desmond, Ferrin, and Drake had gone in search of Honor.
“There is much work ahead of you,” Prescia said. “You are not new to aiding the princesses.”
“I’ve been working with Mira,” Cole said. “We got her power back. Honor’s and Constance’s too. Now we just need to help Destiny and Elegance.”
“You’ve met Harmony,” Prescia said.
“Yeah,” Cole said. “She’s who told me Honor and Destiny were in trouble.”
“I tried to admonish my younger sister about Stafford,” Prescia said. “I didn’t know the particulars, but I felt this coming. I knew her children and the kingdom would suffer. Of course she didn’t believe me. Any true prophet knows the experience—we sense the future, we offer accurate warnings and guidance, and none will heed us. Sometimes I wonder if it would be better not to know. It would certainly cause me less anguish. In Harmony’s defense, Stafford was a different man when she wed him.”
“Is Destiny here, by chance?” Harvan asked.
“Wouldn’t that be nice?” Prescia said. “You’d be the last man I would tell, even with a bound oath, you scoundrel.”
“Didn’t I have a good reason to bring them here?” Harvan asked.
“Defendable reason or not, you broke my trust,” Prescia said. “Cole, you wish to find Destiny?”
“Yes,” Cole said. “I promised Mira.”
“Destiny is not here,” Prescia said.
“Do you know where I can find her?” Cole asked.
“I am the most gifted living weaver in Necronum,” Prescia said. “Destiny is my blood relative. And I have no idea. Neither, thankfully, does Nazeem, Stafford, or any of the others hunting her. Part of me wonders if they understand who they are chasing.”
“What do you mean?” Cole asked.
“I do not pretend to love my sister,” Prescia said. “I did however feel some affection for my nieces. Until Destiny. That child frightens me.”
“Why?” Cole asked.
“She is by far the most powerful of Harmony’s daughters. And her gift is the rarest. Some weavers have a knack for cajoling knowledge from echoes. Some weavers have a higher power—the ability to simply know things about the past, present, and future. But Destiny leaves us all behind. The best of us only see bits and pieces. I know of none who see like Destiny. She is less a girl with power, and more like power in the form of a young girl.”
“Didn’t she lose her power?” Cole asked.
Prescia laughed bitterly. “Only
the greatest fool would attempt to steal so prodigious an ability. Enter Stafford and Owandell. Yes, they stripped her power. But the imbeciles sought to control it. Harmony is not without her gifts, with the names of her children as the best evidence. How do you outsmart destiny itself?”
“You don’t?” Cole guessed.
“Exactly,” Prescia said. “The shapecrafters tried to channel Destiny’s ability into a chosen vessel, a very gifted young shapecrafter. Instead, the power entered one of their horses.”
It took a moment for the implications to sink in. “The Mare?” Cole guessed.
“Very good,” Prescia said. “You were rescued by Destiny’s power. You rode Destiny’s power. And this is why I suspect you are destined to find my niece.”
“Maybe I didn’t betray your trust,” Harvan said excitedly. “I may just be a humble servant of destiny.”
“Nice try,” Prescia snapped. “If I were you, Harvan, I would stop reminding me you are present.”
“That’s a tall order for him,” Winston murmured.
“Let’s just see how he does with it,” Prescia said.
“Will the Mare help me find Destiny?” Cole asked.
“The Mare is an embodiment of Destiny’s formidable power,” Prescia said. “We can all be grateful for any help we receive from the Mare, but to expect her assistance would be foolhardy. You may very well never cross paths with the Mare again.”
“Is that a prophecy?” Cole asked.
“Just common sense,” Prescia said.
“I call the horse Thunder,” Cole said.
“I call her the Mare,” Prescia replied.
Cole stared at Prescia. “You can’t help me find Destiny?”
“I never said that,” Prescia said.
“She only said she doesn’t know where Destiny is,” Harvan reminded everyone.
Prescia stared at him coldly. Winston nudged him. After a moment Harvan folded his hands in his lap and bowed his head.
“You can help?” Cole asked.
“Can and will,” Prescia said. “I know an opportunity when I see it.”
“An opportunity I provided,” Harvan grumbled, eyes on the floor. Winston nudged him harder.
“How can you help?” Cole asked.
“By following Harvan’s example,” Prescia said.
Harvan looked up, smiling.
“Not by breaking a trust,” she stated emphatically.
Harvan dropped his head again.
“But by sending you to consult with one who knows more than I do,” Prescia said.
“Aren’t you the best weaver?” Cole asked.
“In Necronum, yes,” Prescia said. “In the echolands, not even close. I recommend you visit She Who Stands at the Summit.”
“She’s a myth,” Winston said, then covered his mouth with both hands.
“A myth I have conversed with,” Prescia said.
Harvan looked up, eyes bright. “You know how to find her?”
“I do,” Prescia said.
Harvan pumped a fist. “Spectacular.”
“The journey will be fraught with peril,” Prescia warned, glaring.
“Naturally,” Harvan said. Then he pantomimed locking his lips with a key. “I’ll keep quiet.”
“How do we find her?” Cole asked.
“She stands atop the Farthest Mountain, deep, deep in the fringe,” Prescia said.
Harvan drummed the bench between his legs, a huge grin on his face. Winston slumped.
“Do you know how to get there?” Cole asked Harvan.
“No idea,” Harvan said cheerfully. “Always wanted to try. Figured I should wait until I was ready to move on to the Other.”
“These two can accompany you to the base of the mountain,” Prescia told Cole. “They can even go up part of the way with you. But you must scale the summit alone.”
“Why?” Harvan asked.
“If more than one person tries to approach her, she will cast you all from the mountain,” Prescia said.
“Can I go after he finishes?” Harvan asked tentatively.
Prescia shrugged. “If you must. But accessing She Who Stands at the Summit is no small task. Few find their way to her mountain. Most fail to reach the top. You must pass whatever test she deems appropriate.”
“Do you think I can do it?” Cole asked.
“I know of no other way you could find Destiny,” Prescia said. “If you are indeed meant to locate my niece, you will find a way to reach the summit.”
“The lady at the top will know?” Cole asked.
“She Who Stands at the Summit is wise and powerful beyond reckoning,” Prescia said. “She will be able to guide you.”
“How do we find the mountain?” Cole asked. “Harvan doesn’t know the way.”
Prescia stood up. “Wait here.”
She walked into the bedroom.
Harvan put an arm around Cole and squeezed him. “What did I tell you?” he whispered. “Isn’t she great?”
“She’s not too happy with you,” Cole replied quietly.
“It’ll pass,” Harvan said. “Point is, we have a lead now. Not just a lead—an epic adventure!”
“He gets like this,” Winston said, arms folded.
Prescia returned carrying a shuttered silver lantern. “See this, Cole.”
“Is that . . . ?” Harvan asked.
“The Weaver’s Beacon,” Prescia said. “An heirloom passed down from one Grand Shaper to the next. Our guiding light in the echolands.”
Harvan’s eyes widened. “Does that mean Cole is the next—”
“Of course not,” Prescia snapped. “I’m loaning it to him.”
“Doesn’t the Weaver’s Beacon make this oasis possible?” Harvan asked.
“It does,” Prescia said.
“Then how will you preserve your refuge if Cole takes the beacon?” Harvan asked.
“I won’t,” Prescia said simply. “I’m returning to Necronum. I mean to go help your other friends rescue Honor. She was always my favorite.”
“What should I do with the Weaver’s Beacon?” Cole asked.
“You should not lose it,” Prescia said. “Can you please repeat that back to me?”
“I shouldn’t lose it,” Cole said.
“Keep it with you at all times,” Prescia said. “Go on, repeat.”
“I’ll keep it with me at all times,” Cole said.
“You don’t lend it to these clowns or anyone else,” Prescia said. “Understood?”
“Yes,” Cole said.
“I told the beacon where you mean to go,” Prescia said. “It will not mislead you. Trust it over your senses, or Harvan’s. Far out in the fringe, sweet music can be as dangerous as foul.”
“How will I know where it wants me to go?” Cole asked.
“Take it,” Prescia said, holding it out.
Cole grabbed the lantern by the handle on top. It was lighter than he expected. The lantern did not hang straight down. It tilted, gently pulling in a certain direction.
“Feel that?” Prescia asked.
“Yes,” Cole said.
“Let the beacon guide you,” Prescia said. “You won’t have to cut back across the central echolands. You’re on the proper side to continue out into the fringe. The light of the beacon will drive away dead echoes. And help conceal you from enemies. And it will maintain your energy better than food. Those who rely on tampered shaping or who embrace dark energy and music will find its purity disruptive.”
“Thank you,” Cole said, amazed.
“Don’t forget to open the shutter,” Prescia said.
“We can just walk out of the Deadlands?” Winston checked.
“Time is short,” Prescia said. “I suggest you run. But the dead echoes will not harass you.”
“I’m speechless,” Harvan said.
“And yet you’re talking,” Prescia replied.
“It’s an incredible gift,” Harvan continued.
“It’s a loan,” Prescia
reminded him.
“We can never repay you,” Harvan said.
“I require no payment,” Prescia said. “My duty is to protect Necronum. I have bided my time long enough. Now is the hour to make my move. We are fellow soldiers in the same campaign.”
“If you’re going after Honor, don’t you need the beacon?” Harvan asked.
“Not as much as Cole does,” Prescia said, concern entering her gaze. “He will not find She Who Stands at the Summit without it. My instincts tell me it’s up to him to find Destiny. The Outskirts have never faced greater peril. Dire forces are in motion. If I can’t trust my instincts, I may as well go ride a slipstream.”
“We won’t fail you,” Harvan said.
Prescia took a step toward him. “You had better not. You brought this boy here, Harvan. He is your responsibility. He must succeed. You and your sidekick pay whatever price is necessary to protect him.”
Harvan saluted. “It was already my intention.”
“This could be your finest hour,” Prescia said. “Your greatest story. Or it could negate all the others.”
Harvan hesitated, as if trying to resist speaking, then went ahead with it. “People will still tell the stories either way. They’re pretty ingrained.”
“Not if there is no Outskirts,” Prescia said. “And now, I must away. I suggest you do the same.”
“Hey, you know?” Harvan said with a chuckle. “If you’re abandoning your refuge, I guess it doesn’t really matter that I told these two the secret.”
“You still broke your promise,” Prescia said. “Don’t forget that I’m abandoning the refuge because you brought them here. But if you succeed in your mission, all will be forgiven.” She winked at Cole and disappeared.
“Is her body nearby?” Cole asked.
“It must be,” Harvan said. “Not sure what the Necronum side looks like right here. Probably not very hospitable.”
“That’s all the rest we get?” Winston asked.
“We came here looking for a reason to run,” Harvan said, rubbing his hands together. “Now we have it. Ready, Cole?”
Cole held up the lantern and opened the shutter. A mellow white radiance shone forth. “I think so.”
“Good enough,” Harvan said. “Let’s find out if the Farthest Mountain lives up to its name.”
CHAPTER