Chasing the Prophecy

by Brandon Mull

  He arrived at the garden courtyard, then jumped from the rooftop into a tall tree. Leaves and twigs slapped at him as his hands and feet found limbs to halt his fall. There were no continuous ledges around the courtyard walls, so Nedwin took three quick steps along a thick bough, sprang with his arms outstretched, and caught hold of a windowsill.

  Pulling himself onto the narrow shelf, Nedwin found the window latched, but he forced it easily. The room was not occupied, although the bed had been slept in. He listened at the door, then peered into the hall.

  In the distance Nedwin heard stern voices demanding surrender. Otherwise it was quiet, so he dashed down the hall to the suite where Nollin and Kerick were staying. The outer door had been forced. Inside he found their three guards dead alongside four other corpses.

  “Nollin?” Nedwin called in a loud whisper. “Kerick?”

  An inner door opened. Kerick looked out, a crossbow in hand. One side of his face was swelling and darkening. “Nedwin?”

  Nedwin hurried to Kerick. “They came for me as well. We have to clear out.”

  “You just missed the action,” Kerick said, letting him through the door. The room beyond was in disarray. Four more attackers lay dead on the floor. Nollin leaned against the wall. He was injured, his side slashed, one forearm badly broken.

  “Can you move?” Nedwin asked. “We must not linger.”

  “I don’t know,” Nollin replied, wincing as he stepped away from the wall.

  “Try,” Nedwin said. “If you can’t keep up, we should take your seed. Come with me. I know this castle well.”

  “Lead on,” Nollin said.

  Kerick helped support Nollin. Nedwin found a loaded crossbow near one of the corpses in the outer room. Stepping back into the hall, he heard commotion off to the left, so he headed right.

  After a few turns Nedwin led the seedmen into a conservatory full of musical instruments. “Some of the rooms and halls connect in surprising ways,” Nedwin explained. “The castle also hides many subtler passages. Galloran knew many of them. Nobody knows them all. I doubt anyone alive knows more of them than me.”

  Moving aside a huge harp, Nedwin pulled back a heavy drapery to reveal a spiral stairway leading upward. “It would be generous to label this a secret passage, but none use it, and few know about it.”

  They walked up the winding stair to a narrow hall. Nedwin passed two doors, then entered the third, revealing a storeroom crammed with art: sculptures, small fountains, urns, rolled tapestries, fine carpets, gaudy candelabras, enameled shields, a child-sized suit of plate armor, and endless painted portraits—some of them covered, more exposed—piled in tall stacks or otherwise wedged wherever they would fit.

  As Nedwin started weaving his way across the room, he heard the seedmen behind him bumping into obstacles. He had always possessed excellent eyesight, but after the dungeons and the nervesong, his night vision was nothing short of incredible. He was only unable to see in the complete absence of light.

  Pausing, Nedwin removed a strand of seaweed from his satchel, squeezing it to life. The length of kelp began to shed a soft blue radiance. This was his favorite variety of luminous seaweed, because it traveled well. Treated properly, it would still give off light a year after harvest. Whenever possible he tried to keep a few on hand.

  On the far side of the crowded storeroom, behind a bell taller than most men, Nedwin opened a camouflaged panel in the wall, and they ducked into a dark, webby passageway. “We should be safe now,” Nedwin said. “At worst we might run into Copernum himself or one of his most trusted conspirators. The secrets of these private corridors are closely guarded.”

  “You believe Copernum is behind this?” Nollin asked, his voice strained. The sleeve of the arm pressed to his side was darkly stained.

  “I have no proof yet,” Nedwin said. “We will know for certain soon enough. Trensicourt is being claimed for the emperor. Many were involved, but I expect to find Copernum at the root of it.”

  Walking along the corridor, Nedwin shielded the seaweed with his hands, letting a feeble glow seep between his fingers. As they rounded corners and descended cramped stairways, Nedwin paused at some of his favorite listening spots. The noise of skirmishes was failing. The guardsmen were not putting up much resistance. Many of them could have been involved.

  Nollin mostly made his discomfort known with his labored breathing, along with the occasional sharp intake of breath as some jolt of agony surprised him.

  “Where are we going?” Kerick whispered.

  “I know five ways that will take us beyond the castle walls,” Nedwin said. “I believe I am the only man alive familiar with two of them. Tonight we will use my favorite. The corridor originates at the same level as the deepest reaches of the dungeon. There is a labyrinth of hidden tunnels down there. I have found the bones of some who lost their way. I will leave the two of you safe in a vault beneath a mausoleum, where the passage lets out. Then I will go to Nicholas.”

  “He will be under attack as well,” Kerick said. “He made no secret of his allegiance to us and to Galloran.”

  “But he will get away,” Nedwin said. “He was more ready for tonight than any of us. He will have others with him. We need allies.”

  “You mean to keep fighting?” Kerick asked.

  “I mean to win,” Nedwin replied.

  * * *

  After checking a pair of other hideouts, Nedwin found Nicholas in his hideaway behind a cheap theater where actors performed mediocre comedies day and night. The theater had been there since Nedwin was a boy. His noble family had not approved of the establishment, but Nedwin had snuck out several times in lowborn attire to drop a copper drooma in the tin and sit through stale jokes, predictable melodrama, and bumbling pratfalls. The actors tended to overplay their roles, and sometimes flubbed their lines, but among the botched romances, foiled swindlers, and peasants disguised as royalty there were always laughs to be had and taunts to be shouted.

  Tonight the theater, like the rest of Trensicourt, was silent. When the bulk of your military was away and giants roamed your streets, you extinguished your lights, shuttered your windows, locked your doors, and prayed to be ignored.

  The bells had never cried out the emergency. The attack had started and finished in the deepest hours of night. Nedwin figured some people must have slept through the commotion and would awaken to find a new regime in place.

  When Nedwin had given the secret knock at the grubby door behind the theater, Minna had answered, a sturdy young woman with shoulders like an oarsman. She was both niece and apprentice to Nicholas, and she seldom left his side. After Nedwin assured her that he was alone and had not been followed, Minna had checked up and down the alley and called to a lookout for approval before granting him admittance.

  Dressed in wooly nightclothes, Nicholas lay in a hammock in the corner of a small room. Minna left Nedwin alone with her uncle.

  “Forgive me if I do not rise,” Nicholas said. “I seem to have misplaced my legs.”

  At home Nicholas moved around in an ingenious harness he had designed that dangled from suspended tracks. At court he was pushed about in a wheeled chair. “You must have left in great haste,” Nedwin said.

  “After Galloran reinstated me as a lord, I should have known that within a fortnight my home would be ransacked and I would be left impoverished.”

  “What do you know concerning the events of this night?” Nedwin asked.

  “Fragments,” Nicholas replied. “I know the giants attacked from within the city, at least forty of them. The brutes opened the gates for a modest host of imperial troops. The giants were not allowed inside the castle. Neither were imperial troops. Paranoid as ever, Copernum is carefully controlling access. I sent some men in search of information. Only Minna and my two most trusted bodyguards remain with me here. The rest of my household is at another hideout known only to me and mine.”

  “How many men do you know are loyal?” Nedwin asked.

  “Besid
es you? There are sixteen in my household. Beyond them I have fewer than twenty reliable allies. I would trust none of the remaining nobility. Did any of your guards get away?”

  “None,” Nedwin said. “I would only have trusted those who died defending my room. I had no opportunity to aid them.”

  “Nollin?”

  “The seedmen fought off the first wave of traitors sent to take them,” Nedwin said. “I helped Nollin and Kerick flee through secret corridors. Nollin is grievously injured.”

  “I have a man who can attend him,” Nicholas said.

  “Any aid would be appreciated,” Nedwin said. “What can we do to retaliate?”

  Nicholas laughed heartily. “If we’re lucky, we get out of Trensicourt until Galloran returns. If Galloran fails, we never come back.”

  “I won’t abandon Trensicourt,” Nedwin said.

  “Why not?” Nicholas asked. “Galloran did. His goal was to march on Felrook. He is accomplishing it. He took hasty and insufficient measures to protect the kingdom. He knew he was leaving a vacuum behind. He knew that opportunists like Copernum would rush in to fill the void. He did not wish it to happen, but it was a risk he gladly accepted in order to mount his offensive.”

  “He left Trensicourt in my care,” Nedwin asserted. “In our care.”

  “A seedman, a scout, and a cripple,” Nicholas chuckled. “Two of us knew little about the current politics within the city, and the third knew enough to keep his distance. I didn’t know how, or when, but tonight was inevitable. The takeover was perfectly planned, flawlessly executed. We did not stand a chance of opposing it. Galloran left with our fighters. Too many plotters held back too many of their men in a city with too few committed guardians.”

  “I will not go quietly,” Nedwin said. “I am the regent. I am expected to protect Trensicourt. I mean to oppose these usurpers.”

  “You did nothing wrong,” Nicholas said. “You committed no mistakes. You were made captain of a sinking ship, Nedwin. You need not go down with it.”

  “I have my duty. It is too late to rejoin Galloran. I will not have him return to find an enemy on his throne.”

  “This is no longer your duty,” Nicholas advised. “You are no longer regent. You have been ousted. Escape with me into exile. If Galloran returns, we can work with him to reclaim the city.”

  “And if his armies need to retreat here after being bested at Felrook?”

  “I have already dispatched an eagle to warn him,” Nicholas said. “He will know not to seek refuge here.”

  “You are free to go,” Nedwin said. “You should bring Nollin—heal him or plant him. You should bring your bodyguards and your family. But leave me what fighting men you can and whatever trusted contacts remain.”

  “I will lend what meager aid remains mine to share,” Nicholas sighed. “Do not proceed with your eyes closed. This is not a fight we can win. It would be a shame for you to throw your life away.”

  “My life belongs to Galloran,” Nedwin said. “He left me here, and here I will stay.”

  CHAPTER 22

  FOUR KEEPS

  Under the cover of night Rachel sat astride her mare at the front of a large force. Galloran waited beside her, eyes blindfolded, Io leading his stallion.

  The fortress before her was called West Keep. Watch fires burned atop formidable walls packed with restless soldiers. The upcoming assault would not take the defenders by surprise.

  Rachel had longed for this moment. Her outrage over Drake’s death had not diminished—if anything it had increased, as her grief turned to anger and as that pent-up fury lacked an outlet. She knew that nothing would bring Drake back, but payback would start tonight, minutes from now.

  She had a key role to play. She knew Galloran had alternate plans, in case she failed to fulfill her role, but she did not expect to fail. The part of her that might have been afraid seemed to have died along with Drake.

  Conquering and occupying the keeps would provide them some protection from Maldor’s approaching forces. Bad news had followed their march across the valley to Felrook. Some of the scouts who had turned south after the pass had not returned. Those who made it back had reported a host more than ten thousand strong massed at the southern end of the valley. It was a large enough army to give them serious trouble, although probably insufficient to defeat them. Except for leaving scouts behind to watch them, Galloran had ignored the force. He had decided the enemy troops were there solely to take and hold the pass in order to cut off their retreat.

  Before they reached Felrook, news arrived that the pass had fallen. A handful of the defenders left behind had escaped up the mountainside. The rest had perished.

  Not long afterward, an eagle from Nicholas had told of a coup at Trensicourt. Nedwin had been ousted as regent, and the city was now in the hands of their enemies. Rachel tried not to dwell on how terrible Nedwin probably felt about that mess. At least it sounded like he had survived.

  No resistance had awaited their forces on the plains surrounding Felrook. As with the rest of the march, all had remained quiet. The town beside the ferry was abandoned. But the three keeps and the wall protecting the ferry were filled beyond capacity.

  A drinling ran up to Galloran, saluted, and detailed the readiness of his soldiers. He was a burly man in mismatched armor, his face smudged with dirt, and he spoke English too rapidly to be easily understood. Galloran acknowledged his report and issued a few instructions.

  The drinlings had united with the rest of Galloran’s army on schedule. Rachel had been happy to find Io’s father, Ul, among them, leading the wild clan. His hair was now completely white, but he still appeared hearty and strong. According to Ul, the drinlings had met with virtually no opposition during their long, quick march across the continent.

  Rachel grimly regarded the solid fortress. It was not the only keep that would come under attack tonight. Once Galloran had organized his forces, Ferrin had schooled the leaders about the keeps. West Keep, North Keep, and East Keep were all of similar design. The big wall around each provided the main line of defense. The tall, thick walls had a single entrance with two sets of gates. The space between the gates passed below trapdoors and arrow loops where defenders could abuse attackers from cover. Rachel could hardly imagine how much courage it would take to charge such strong defenses, armed only with a sword, ax, or bow.

  Each keep contained a large yard, along with extensive stables and barracks for horses and soldiers. The commanders lived in the keeps themselves—large, sturdy buildings, but not particularly defensible. If attackers could breach the wall, the rest would be relatively straightforward.

  Naman had referred to the defenses around the ferry as the fourth keep. For planning purposes, the name had evolved to South Keep. Although it had no formal keep and contained fewer buildings than the other fortresses around Felrook, the walls of the South Keep were higher.

  Ferrin had investigated the secret ways he knew into two of the keeps. Most of the passages had been sealed, or, in one instance, placed under heavy guard with an abundance of traps. But one way into East Keep was apparently unknown, or else those in command thought it impossible that their enemies knew the secret. The displacer was currently leading a sneak attack on East Keep using that obscure entrance. Rachel wondered if that assault had started yet. She hadn’t heard any distant tumult of battle.

  Moonlight waxed and waned with the movement of tattered clouds. When the pale light was brightest, Felrook loomed ominously above the lake, perched atop sheer cliffs rising vertically out of the water. The soaring towers and walls made Rachel feel like a mouse with aspirations to topple a skyscraper. She tried to ignore Felrook for the moment. They had to deal with the keeps before they could turn their attention to Maldor’s greatest stronghold.

  “The archers are in position,” a seedman reported to Galloran. “The troops are ready.”

  “Proceed,” the blindfolded leader directed.

  The Amar Kabal had the finest bows in Lyrian, an
d the truest archers to aim them. The archers had assembled as far from the keep as their assignment allowed. The men on the wall made distant targets, but they were conveniently illuminated by the watch fires.

  Three consecutive volleys of arrows soared through the night. Despite the great distance, a shocking amount of the projectiles found targets. Guards fell, screaming. The archers dropped back out of range before the guards could return fire.

  Galloran signaled to Rachel. She idly wondered if he had been peeking at the events through her eyes and mind.

  On the wall of the keep the main watch fires burned in elevated kettles. Rachel began to utter commands, shoving the kettles over, showering nearby soldiers with fiery coals and significantly reducing the amount of light available to the defenders. Even considering the distance involved, the effort felt simple, almost too easy to be called a warm-up, but she still enjoyed a pleasant rush of accomplishment. The tumbling kettles created quite a stir atop the walls as soldiers jostled one another.

  The first wave of invaders charged forward, cumbersome shields held high. Rank after rank flowed forward around Rachel, Galloran, and their detachment of guards. The past few days had been spent preparing for this attack, including the construction of huge shields based on a design by Brin the Gamester. The unwieldy shields would be useless in hand-to-hand combat but would provide attackers with considerable protection from projectiles as they stormed the walls.

  Rachel’s next task would require the most finesse. The quantity of power involved was not great, but she had to execute it just right. As Galloran had made clear, this was her most essential assignment of the evening.

  A crystal sphere the size of a soccer ball rested on the ground twenty yards away from her horse. Rachel commanded the gatecrasher into the air, then held it steady. The globe seemed light. She had never felt more focused. Mumbling a word, Rachel sent the sphere streaking toward the gate, driving it onward with her will. It passed well over the heads of the attacking troops, quickly leaving the fastest of them behind. Upon impact the crystal casing shattered, the mineral inside flared a brilliant white, and a tremendous explosion blasted the gate into kindling.