CHAPTER 3 
CHAPTER 3 Rachel stood before a full-length mirror in her room. Turning left and right, she supposed her acolyte robe did look kind of like a Halloween costume, but not a cheap one. Made of fine material, the robe felt silky and comfortable, and it gave off a faint shimmer, as if silver threads had been woven into the dark-gray fabric. Light and billowy, the robe stayed surprisingly cool considering how much of her body it covered.
She shed the fine robe, folded it neatly, and began dressing for her upcoming journey. Though less silky, her Amar Kabal robes were also comfortable. The acolyte robe was great for roaming enclosed hallways, but would prove restrictive for running or riding. The more rugged Amar Kabal robes made much more sense for travel.
A soft knock made Rachel turn. “Come in.”
The door to her bedchamber opened, and Ulani entered, wearing a gray acolyte robe accented by a silver mantle, which designated her as the future oracle. Few people made Rachel feel tall, but Ulani was one of them. Short and slight, the woman looked to be about forty, although Rachel knew that her real age was closer to a hundred. A circlet of violet blossoms ringed her head.
Ulani spoke a brief Edomic phrase. Rachel’s initial reaction was to flinch, but the words were an appeal for Rachel to stay, and carried many subtle nuances. Rachel belonged with them, had a promising future with them. Her departure would wound many hearts and lead her into perilous circumstances. Sometimes Rachel wished that Edomic weren’t quite so expressive.
“I don’t want to leave,” Rachel apologized in plain English. “I’ve enjoyed studying and training here. You of all people should understand why I have to go.”
Ulani nodded. “Your departure was ordained by the oracle. She also privately wished for you to return.”
Rachel paused. “I might.”
Ulani narrowed her gaze. “I do not foresee it.”
“Have you . . . looked?”
“Not prophetically. I would never be able to see beyond the upcoming conflict with Maldor. I simply realize that you yearn for your home more than you aspire to serve with us here.”
“I don’t really belong to this world,” Rachel apologized. “I know my parents are worried about me. They may have given up hope by now.”
“For decades I have toiled to develop my talents,” Ulani said. “I was disciplined. The oracle tutored me. And in a few short months you have surpassed all that I accomplished. You have the innate gift. You could become a true prophetess, perhaps greater than Esmira.”
“That’s too much praise,” Rachel replied. “I was never tested to discover if I could see beyond the present.”
“Only because Galloran forbade it,” Ulani said. “Not without reason. The test can be fatal. But you display every indication of one who would more than excel. The oracle herself sensed your potential. You’ve already mastered everything else we could teach you.”
“I’m no master,” Rachel corrected.
“You’re much better at our disciplines than those of us who have studied them our entire lives,” Ulani insisted. “I think you’re already even more adept than the oracle was.”
The praise made Rachel blush. “I’m very grateful for all I’ve learned.”
“It was our privilege to host you.” Ulani lowered her gaze. “I’m very sorry about Kalia. She brought shame upon us all. This should have been a haven for you.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” Rachel said. “Maldor finds ways to harm whoever he wants, wherever they are.”
“It was our duty to protect you. Instead, you had to defend yourself against one of our own. It’s inexcusable.”
“I don’t blame you.” Rachel took Ulani’s hand. “Everything else has been wonderful. These have been the best weeks I’ve spent in Lyrian.”
Ulani nodded and offered an apologetic smile. “It will be lonely here without you.”
Rachel knew that Ulani felt trapped. She had nowhere near the raw ability that the previous oracle had possessed. Yet everyone expected her to become the next great prophetess, to guide the children of Certius through the troubled years to come, and to keep the peace among the different factions of treefolk.
“You have a lot to deal with,” Rachel said. “Don’t underestimate yourself. You’ll do great.”
Tears brimmed briefly in Ulani’s eyes. The head acolyte replied with a slight nod that showed little confidence. “We each have our duties.”
Rachel rested a finger beside her temple. “I see lots of walking in my future.”
Ulani smiled. “I hardly know you in those barbaric clothes.”
“Function before fashion. I’ll miss you.”
Ulani’s mouth twitched. No words came out. She nodded again, turned, and left the room.
Rachel swiveled to face the mirror. Ulani had finally voiced what many of the other acolytes had hinted at for weeks. After months spent practicing together, they knew how quickly Rachel learned, and regarded her with wary awe. Even the most jealous ones seemed to recognize Rachel as the greatest among them. Uncertain times were looming. The acolytes did not want to lose her. She had never felt so needed.
Did anyone rely on her like this back home? Her parents loved her, and certainly missed her, but did they need her? Not the way the people in Lyrian needed her. As her abilities increased, her role here in Lyrian would only grow more significant.
Are you busy? The words reached her mind as clearly as if spoken.
Come in.
The door opened and Corinne entered, honey-blond hair tied back, her robes fitting like she had been prepped for a photo shoot. I saw Ulani leave. Corinne’s room was not far down the hall.
She was saying her good-byes. What have you been up to today?
I was helping Father, Corinne conveyed. We were sending messages to our allies. We won’t have easy access to messenger eagles again until we reach Trensicourt. I’ll miss them. They’re such intelligent, impressive birds. How are you feeling?
I’ve been tense, Rachel admitted. I had a good talk with Jason. It helped.
We live in very difficult times, Corinne conveyed. None would envy us.
I’m not looking forward to the good-byes, Rachel expressed.
Corinne closed her eyes. The words came clearly to Rachel, laden with heartache. I understand, Rachel. I’ll miss you too. And the others. I have grown comfortable here. Resting. Sparring. Socializing. I may never see my father again after today.
I can’t think about all the separations, Rachel replied sympathetically. It’s too much. I’ve been dreading this. I don’t feel ready. Not only was she going to miss her friends, but many parts of the prophecy left her full of unsettling doubts and questions.
Corinne opened her eyes. I know! Why do oracles have to be so cryptic?
I didn’t share that on purpose, Rachel responded. Like her father, Corinne was growing increasingly adept at perceiving unshared thoughts.
Sorry, Corinne apologized. I couldn’t help sensing your attitude. I know that Father has puzzled over every word. For example, what servant will betray what master? Could be almost anyone.
Rachel nodded. I can’t resist searching for clues in her final words. She said our hope would be red like the blood of heroes, black as the bowels of the earth, and white like a flash of orantium. Is there some hidden message we need to deduce from that? Or was she just confirming that some of us will die and orantium will help in our battles?
It could be worse, Corinne comforted her. Some prophecies can be hopelessly vague. At least we know a few things for sure. We know that we have to split up. We know who goes where and generally what they must do. As for the rest? Good luck figuring out which secret from the past will ransom the future.
Maybe we’ll know it when we come across it.
Let’s hope so. Do you need more alone time?
Rachel scanned her room, realizing that it truly felt like her room. It was the only space in Lyrian over which she had ever felt a real sense of ownership. She sighed. The plan had never been to stay here. Her belongings were packed. “I’m ready.”
* * *
Rachel and Corinne caught up to the others on the main floor of the temple. A variety of treefolk mingled with Rachel’s companions. Certius had engendered the treefolk, humanlike races covered with foliage, most with moss or ivy, some with vines or thorns. Treefolk guides would be escorting both of the departing groups out of the jungle.
Galloran, his blindfold in place as usual, stood conversing with Nollin, Kerick, and Halco. The amars belonging to Kerick and Halco had been planted in a fertile patch of soil shortly after their arrival to Mianamon, and they had been reborn barely ten weeks later. The three seedmen would be accompanying Galloran’s group—Halco meant to split off and rejoin his people, while Kerick and Nollin would proceed to Trensicourt. Kerick and Halco appeared to be in good spirits as they chatted with Galloran, while Nollin seemed to brood.
Of all the members of the delegation who had set out from the Seven Vales, Nollin had liked the prophecy least. Although he had kept in contact with influential seedfolk, sending many messages by eagle proclaiming his doubts and misgivings, to his credit the dour seedman had confirmed that the oracle had indeed foreseen at least a small chance at victory if Galloran and his remaining allies took the offensive. Since the prediction contradicted Nollin’s personal expectations and politics, his affirmation lent needed credibility to the report.
Galloran had shaved his beard and trimmed his hair short. His face looked younger than the gray hair and whiskers had hinted—middle-aged, with chiseled features and a strong chin.
Jason waved at Rachel, and she trotted toward him. He looked good in his clean traveling robes. On the floor beside him sat a pair of covered buckets.
“What’s in there?” Rachel asked.
“Galloran is sending us with most of the extra orantium,” Jason explained. “Twelve globes. He’s only taking three, since the Amar Kabal have hundreds in reserve for the assault on Felrook. They promised to resupply him early by sending fifty to Trensicourt.”
“You’re carrying the spheres in buckets?”
“Check it out,” Jason said, prying off one of the lids. Inside, six crystal orantium globes floated in clear gel.
“What’s with the goo?”
“I was just asking the same thing,” Jason said. “The wizard Certius invented it specifically for transporting orantium globes. I guess they still have a decent stash here.”
“I thought that hardly any orantium had survived except for what we found in the swamp.”
“Right. But Mianamon is old. They have more left here than any other place besides the Sunken Lands. Like, twenty globes.”
Rachel dipped a finger in the goo. It came out coated in glossy syrup. “So the goo keeps the globes from smacking together and cracking?”
“Partly. Also, if a sphere breaks, supposedly the mineral won’t explode.”
Rachel rubbed her thumb against her slick finger. “I get it. Orantium combusts when exposed to air or water. But not this stuff.”
“It lets us transport orantium with less fear of blowing ourselves apart.”
Rachel wiped her hand on her robe. “I wonder if they used something like this to mine orantium in the first place.”
“Maybe,” Jason said. “The people who would know are long gone, along with the mine.”
“You could always check at the Celestine Library,” Rachel suggested.
“That’s totally what we’ll do there. Ancient mining research. Either that or we’ll find the location of Darian the Seer and save the world.”
Galloran raised his hoarse voice. “I believe we’re all assembled.” All other conversation stopped as everyone turned to hear him speak. Many acolytes and treefolk had gathered to see them off. “I would like to thank the inhabitants of Mianamon for their generous hospitality over the past months. You have proven yourselves friends and allies in times of hardship.”
The compliment earned scattered applause.
Galloran went on. “We now embark on missions prescribed by your most recent oracle. I thank the treefolk for providing us with safe passage through the jungle. Troubled times await us all. I will remain in communication via eagle whenever possible.
“The future of Lyrian has never been more precarious. Remain vigilant. Hope for the best, but prepare for the worst. I salute Jason and my friends, who now embark on a hazardous quest to a secret destination. Together they form one of the finest teams ever assembled in the history of Lyrian. If they counsel wisely and work as one, I expect there is little they cannot accomplish.”
Nollin started laughing derisively.
“Is something humorous?” Farfalee asked.
“I’m simply amused by this brave talk of victory,” Nollin said. “Can we be just a touch more realistic?”
“Enlighten us,” Galloran offered. Rachel could tell he wasn’t thrilled with the interruption.
“We’re not going to accomplish anything,” Nollin said simply. “I’ll do my best alongside you, but we’re chasing a phantom triumph. A fool’s mirage. The oracle made it clear that victory was all but impossible.”
“What would you have us do?” Drake challenged.
“I would tell the good people of Mianamon to expect word of our failure,” Nollin replied. “I would encourage them to withdraw deep into the heart of the jungle, to promote the breeding of ferocious beasts, and to erect whatever defenses they can contrive. After our nations fall, this will be the last vestige of free civilization on the continent. They should take every measure to protect it.”
“You can’t write us off like that,” Jason argued.
“Can’t I?” Nollin asked innocently. “The oracle did. She made it abundantly clear that this venture has virtually no chance of success. It will end in our ruin.”
“Then why are you participating?” Farfalee asked.
Nollin faced her. “If we’re already doomed, why not chase one last pleasant illusion? This was the decision of my people, and I will hold true to it. But the rest of Lyrian should brace for disaster.”
Rachel noticed the treefolk murmuring and shifting uncomfortably.
“If we think like that, we probably will fail,” Jason said resolutely. “The oracle told us that we still have a chance to beat Maldor. We need to focus on that.”
“You’re free to dream however you wish,” Nollin teased. “But don’t ask the rest of us to share your unrealistic—”
“Then don’t ask us to share your weakness!” Jason interrupted.
Nollin seemed taken aback.
Jason plowed forward. “This isn’t really my fight. It’s not my world. I’m not helping because my people obligated me. I’m helping because Lyrian needs to be saved. It’s a good place with good people. There’s so much potential that will be lost if Maldor wins! I’ve met him. He wants to control all of Lyrian. He wants to rule it completely, for as long as he can, and since he could live hundreds of years, that could add up to a really long time. If he wins, Lyrian will become a terrible place. He barely even tries to hide that. Stopping him is the right thing to do.”
“Nobody is arguing that we should embrace Maldor,” Nollin said soothingly.
“You’re arguing that stopping him is unrealistic,” Jason said. “But don’t you get what Galloran was saying? You’re with people who do unrealistic things. He’s killed three torivors! I spoke the Word to Maldor and then escaped Felrook. Rachel killed Orruck and we took his orantium. We all made it through Ebera. We’ve done lots of unrealistic things. Why not try for a few more?”
The assemblage cheered. Rachel wanted to hug Jason. The mood in the room had gone from gloomy to jubilant in a matter of moments. Nollin surveyed the surrounding reactions with a condescending smile. He shook his head a little and raised his hands in surrender. The gesture reluctantly gave permission for the others to enjoy their delusion. They took him up on the offer.
“Well said, Lord Jason,” Galloran approved, motioning for the crowd to quiet down. “This is not an hour for doubt or fear.” The blindfolded king drew his sword. The sleek blade flashed like a mirror. “I have in my custody four swords of torivorian make, won by besting lurkers in battle. I have owned two others, but they were lost when I was taken by Maldor. I will keep one of the four swords. My daughter Corinne will retain another. A third will travel into peril with Lord Jason of Caberton.”
“Me?” Jason blurted.
Rachel glanced at his shocked expression.
“I wish I could give more,” Galloran apologized.
“But I’m not the best swordsman in my group,” Jason protested. “Far from it. How about Jasher? Or Drake?”
“According to the oracle, you must survive to reach Darian the Pyromancer,” Galloran said. “You must live to receive the vital information. Therefore you should be the best equipped of your party.”
Jasher nudged Jason. “Go accept it,” the seedman whispered.
Rachel nodded her agreement.
“Okay,” Jason said, walking to Galloran. “Thank you—I can’t believe it. I’ll do my best.”
Jason strapped the sword about his waist. Despite his height, he looked young.
Tark began the cheering. Others noisily joined him, and the approval quickly swelled to a wholehearted level that surprised Rachel. She found herself caught up in spirit of the moment, whistling and clapping.
Jason smiled bashfully. The cheers subsided. Jason stepped away from Galloran, who produced another torivorian sword. “The fourth sword will travel with me to Trensicourt, borne by Ferrin, son of Baldor.”
Mutters rippled through the crowd, not all of them approving. Rachel glanced at the displacer, his expression a study in surprise and disbelief. He walked over to Galloran and knelt before him. “This is too kingly a gift.”
“The blade comes with a price,” Galloran said. “You must wield it in defense of our cause. If you do so, you will more than earn it.”
Ferrin bowed his head. “I’m deeply honored, Your Majesty.”
“More honor awaits if you see this through,” Galloran rasped softly.
Io handed Ferrin the sword. The displacer belted it on.
Considering Ferrin, Rachel decided that Galloran was wise to entrust him with the torivorian weapon. She knew Ferrin viewed the fine swords with an almost religious awe. Any gesture that might help cement his loyalty would give them a better chance for success.
Galloran raised his voice again. “Nedwin left weeks ago to prepare the way for us at Trensicourt. Nia did likewise for Jason and his party. The day wanes. The hour for farewells is almost past. Let us make ready to depart. Know that with every remaining moment of my life, with every opportunity I can seize and every resource I can borrow, I will devote myself to bringing down the emperor!”
This earned a final rousing cheer from the assemblage. Rachel found herself clapping and yelling along with the others. At the same time, she felt a little distant. Soon this moment would be a memory, as would the protective walls of Mianamon. Before long she would be separated from her two best friends in Lyrian, perhaps never to see them again. No more cheering. No more rest. No more jokes. Just a parade of unpredictable difficulties and dangers.
Corinne took her hand. Rachel looked up at her. Are you in my mind?
We’ll see each other again.
Do you really think so?
At times like this, it’s the only thing we can let ourselves believe.
A cynical part of Rachel wondered how much Corinne could possibly understand about times like this.
When I stood outside that tree in the swamp, Corinne conveyed gently, all I clung to for years was a hope that my father would return for me. Long after I might have stopped believing, he finally came. And here I am.
Rachel hugged her. Be safe. Watch out for Jason.
I’ll protect him with my life.
Rachel looked up, startled by how earnestly Corinne had conveyed the sentiment.
I’ll do my best to stay alive too, Corinne assured her.
“Bye, Corinne.”
Everyone was checking gear and shouldering packs. They were really leaving! Rachel hurried over to Jasher and hugged him. “Be safe.”
“You too.”
She turned to the half giant, Aram, who would remain small and unremarkable until sundown swelled him into a tall, heavily muscled warrior. “Take care of yourself.”
“Don’t fret about me,” Aram said. “I’ll do my best to watch out for the others.”
Drake was walking away, following a treeperson draped in heavy vines. Rachel jogged to him and placed a hand on his elbow. The seedman stopped, turning somewhat, not fully facing her. The profile view of his face emphasized his flat features. “I suppose there was no escaping you.”
“What? You wanted to just wander off without a word?”
“It can be easier that way.”
“Don’t be silly. You come back. You survive. I want to see you after this. I want you to show me your private valley in the mountains.”
“It wouldn’t be private anymore.” A small grin bent his lips as he rubbed the back of his neck, the place where his amar had failed to grow correctly after his last rebirth. “But I suppose I could live with that. Stay close to Galloran. He’ll keep you from harm.”
Rachel threw her arms around him. They had not been parted since Drake had guided her away from the torivor for weeks in the wilderness. “Take care.”
“I’ll try. Have a safe journey, Rachel.”
“I’ll miss you.”
He gave a stiff nod and strode away. She thought he might be near the brink of showing emotion. Her heart squeezed painfully at the thought of parting from him and so many of her other friends. She tried to draw strength from his example.
Rachel caught up to Jason, who already had a pack on his back and a bucket of orantium in one hand. He set down the bucket and hugged her. He felt solid. Consecutive months of good eating and intense physical training had paid off.
“Are you trying to speak with your mind?” he said after a moment. “I can’t do that.”
She pulled away from the embrace and looked into his eyes. “Don’t give up.”
“There goes my plan.”
“I’m serious. Even if things look bad, find a way. You’re good at that. The oracle saw a way that we could win. Find it.”
“You too,” Jason urged. “Within reason. Don’t try some huge Edomic command and blow yourself to pieces.”
“There goes my plan.”
“You stole my line.” Jason glanced at the others departing.
“I know we have to hurry,” Rachel said. “But this is it. We’re taking different paths.” She took a breath and put conviction into her words. “We’ll see each other again.”
Tark came up to them. “This is wrong, Lord Jason, letting them part us.”
Jason turned to the stocky musician. “Sorry, Tark. The oracle is calling the shots on this one.”
“I remain your pledged man,” Tark avowed, touching a fist to his chest. “What are your orders?”
“Do your best to help Galloran win his war.”
“I swear it.”
“And keep an eye on Rachel. See if you can get her to stop telling me she’s going to see me again. I think she’s jinxing us.”
Rachel punched Jason’s arm.
Tark eyed Rachel uncertainly. She saw a hint of disapproval in his gaze, along with a little wariness.
Jason smiled. “That’s assault. Tark, take her out.”
The musician grinned, but not with his eyes. “You better handle this one.”
Chuckling, Jason picked up the bucket of explosives.
Rachel felt the moment slipping away. There was so much she wanted to say. What if something happened to him? What if she never told him how much she appreciated his coming back to Lyrian for her? How much she cared about him? There were too many feelings to translate into words. “See you later,” she managed.
“Not if I see you first,” Jason said, starting toward the main doors of the temple.
She watched him walking away. Were those the last words he would say to her? She stalked after him. “You can’t leave with a joke.”
He glanced back. “Why not?”
“What if I die?”
“Then at least I cheered you up before the end.”
“That wasn’t a cheerful joke. It was a teasing joke. And not even a very good one.”
“Fine. Why did the baby cross the road?”
“No jokes,” Rachel complained, striding along beside him.
“I guess it’s more fitting that we should end with an argument.”
“I just mean there are certain times when jokes aren’t appropriate.”
“Which makes them more needed and funny.”
She grabbed his arm and tugged him to a halt. “You have your way of coping, and I have mine. You’re amazing. You’re inspiring. You’re so brave. I’ll miss you and I appreciate you. Everything about you.”
“Even my humor?”
“Almost everything. Don’t die.”
“It might help if you stop giving my eulogy. You don’t die either. I’ll miss you too. I have one last question.”
“What?”
“Are you going to bring your pack?”
Rachel started. She had left it back where she had been talking with Corinne.
“Never mind,” Jason said, looking over his shoulder. “Your acolyte worshippers are grabbing it for you. Do you have a pen? You should really sign some autographs for them.”
Rachel banged her forehead with the heel of her hand. “You know what I still have? My camera! I’ve been meaning all winter to get a group shot.”
She rushed over to the acolytes, retrieved the camera from her pack, and hurried back to Jason, who stood waiting.
“You really are an optimist,” Jason said. “You realize you’ll have to get back home before you can develop any photos?”
“At least I can do it myself,” Rachel said. “I’ve done it lots. If this camera were digital, I’d probably be out of batteries by now.”
Jason helped her round everyone up for a group shot on the temple steps. Rachel showed Ulani how to work the camera. Jason explained that the device would capture and preserve the image, along with their souls. Rachel explained that he was joking. Once Ulani had taken a couple of shots, Rachel let Tark have a turn as photographer with Ulani in the picture. Then Rachel snapped an extra one herself for good measure.
After stowing her camera, Rachel gave Jason a final hug good-bye. And then they left by separate trails into the muggy jungle.