Chasing the Prophecy (Beyonders) (121 page)

“Feels like clay,” Ferrin reported. One arm awkwardly tried using the pick. The hand without the pick tore away the white substance faster. Soon Ferrin dropped the pick and started clawing white clay from the base of the wall, one small handful at a time.

“If this is the last barrier,” Tark said, “you might reach the orantium at any second.”

“Wouldn’t that be a happy surprise?”

“I wonder if we’ll have time to notice.”

“It might be quick, but I think we’ll feel it coming.”

Gripping the cool metal bars, Tark watched tensely as the minutes passed. The hands could not reach high, so they gradually excavated a tunnel at the base of the white wall. More minutes dragged by. “I wish I could help.”

Sweat beaded on Ferrin’s brow. “Me too.”

Tark chuckled. “Want me to fetch water?”

“You might miss the blast.”

“I think I’ll notice.”

“Sure, that would be nice.”

Taking the canteen, Tark retraced their steps, clamoring through rubble and walking along manmade tunnels until he reached the place where he had entered the air pocket. He stared at the dark water. Did Ferrin really need his help? Tark glanced over his shoulder at the empty tunnel, then back at the water. What if he made a run for it? Might he get away? Probably not. The explosion should happen soon.

Tark shook his head. The musings were reflexive. He had run away more than once in his life. The thoughts were familiar, but today he had little desire to heed them. The displacer could not be trusted to finish the job. He had to stay and see this done. It was his chance to make things right, the chance he had always wanted.

Crouching, Tark lowered his lips and drank directly from the water. Then he filled the canteen.

On the way back, Tark thought about others who had sacrificed to make this moment possible. He thought about the members of the Giddy Nine. He thought about Tristan, who had died as they’d escaped Harthenham. He thought about Chandra, and Raz, and Dorsio, and the oracle. He thought about Drake. He thought about Io trying to protect Rachel. He
thought about Ferrin, down here with him in the dark, digging toward a cataclysm.

When Tark reached Ferrin, the white tunnel at the base of the wall went back four feet. “You’re a good man,” Tark said.

“That might be something of an exaggeration,” Ferrin replied, “but under the circumstances I’ll take it.”

Tark jutted his chin toward where Ferrin’s arms were working. “I couldn’t have done this without you.”

“The thought had crossed my mind.”

“You want a drink?”

“I’ll need your help.”

Ferrin knelt, and Tark poured water into his mouth. After pausing to let him swallow, he poured more. “Keep going?”

“Sure.”

Tark shared water until Ferrin had drunk his fill. Down the tunnel, the hands and arms kept digging.

“Are you afraid to die?” Tark asked, taking a swig himself before setting aside the canteen.

Ferrin paused. Tark glimpsed something in his eye, a quiet struggle to remain in control. Maybe a hint of worry. “Yes, if I’m being honest. But we all have to go. I was trying to think of a better way than this. I couldn’t.”

Tark nodded. “I hear you. Ever play stones?”

“Sure.”

“My father taught me the game. I’m no expert. Neither was he. But he taught me that sometimes you have to sacrifice a stone or two to gain a strategic advantage. He told me that sacrifice means trading something good for something better. It stuck with me. I guess it applies today.”

Ferrin gave a nod. “I suppose it does. In fact, I find that a very rational way to look at it.”

Tark sighed. “I feel like I’ve cheated death a lot.”

“I could say the same. I suspect both of us have run out of extra chances.”

“I hope so. For the sake of the battle, I mean.”

Ferrin furrowed his brow. “What have we here?”

“What?” Tark asked, peering at the end of the tunnel.

“I think I’ve made it through the white stuff,” Ferrin said. “There’s something behind it. Something flat. Not stone. It feels like wood. Slightly spongy, though not as soft as cork.”

“Can you tear it apart?”

“I’m trying.” Ferrin winced. “Just tore a fingernail. Ouch, and another one. It feels pretty firm. Dare we hope this is truly the end?”

“Should we try orantium?” Tark asked.

Ferrin nodded. “It might be our only remaining option. I wish we could use the gatecrasher, but there is no way it will fit through the bars.”

“A normal one might do it,” Tark said.

“Let’s find out,” Ferrin said.

An arm came scissoring back to them. Tark handed it an orantium sphere, and the arm wriggled away.

“Use the crossbow,” Ferrin said. “I want to get my arms clear, in case this doesn’t work and we need more use out of them. I swear, Tark, if I have to cram myself through these bars piece by piece, I will see it done.”

“I thought you said it would be too hard,” Tark replied.

“It would be risky,” Ferrin replied. “There are limits to how much of myself I can separate at once. If my displacement fields falter, I would become a big mess. Still, if all else fails, I’ll try it.”

Tark laid down on the ground and sighted with the crossbow. “It’s too dark. I can’t see the target.”

“Throw a bit of seaweed that way.”

Tark tore off a segment of seaweed and threw it through the bars. An arm moved to retrieve it. Tark settled back on the ground. After the arm put the seaweed at the back of the white clay excavation, Tark could see the globe perfectly.

“Give me a moment,” Ferrin said as his arms retreated. “Want me to take the shot?”

“I can do it.”

“I have two spare quarrels. With that bow at this distance, you’ll want to aim about four inches high. No wind. The quarrel should fly straight.”

Tark aimed as Ferrin described. The arms reached the bars.

“Do you want to attach your arms?” Tark asked.

“No,” Ferrin said. “I’m missing an eye, an ear, my nose, part of my neck, even part of an artery in one arm. It’s fitting that I should meet my end in pieces. We might still be hours away from a conclusion. Or this might be it.” Ferrin turned slightly and looked right at Tark, giving him a nod. “You’re a brave man, Tark. It has been an honor.”

“Likewise,” Tark said, letting his mind relax as he squeezed the trigger.

The quarrel sprang from the crossbow. At the end of the hall the orantium shattered. The mineral inside flared white and exploded. After a gasping rush of air, there came a second, stronger explosion. The second blast wave sent Tark rolling. Debris slammed against the bars. With a stronger rush of air, a third detonation followed. The last thing Tark knew was a sense of relief coupled with an intense white flash.

CHAPTER
36

T
he sun was almost to the top of the sky by the time the lurkers delivered Rachel to Galloran. She found him in the western foothills, on the far side of a stony bluff. Having sensed the lurkers coming, the king reacted with apprehension at first, but soon Rachel explained how she had destroyed the Myrkstone and entrapped Maldor.

“You struck a bargain with the torivors?” Galloran clarified.

“Most are free to go,” Rachel explained. “They can return to their home world. But three must unconditionally serve you until the day you die. It seemed fair, because three have attacked you with swords. And one must unconditionally serve Jason for as long as he lives and remains in this world, because they sent one for him. And one must unconditionally serve Farfalee, because one of them killed her brother.”

“Unconditionally?” Galloran asked. “No limits? Not even Zokar attained that level of commitment.”

Rachel shrugged. “I guess Zokar didn’t free most of them.”

“Will any serve you?” Galloran asked.

“One used swords to attack Maldor for me,” Rachel said.
“He’ll keep on him until the job is done. And the three that will serve you vowed to help me escape Felrook and bring me to you. That was all I really needed.”

“So Maldor is pinned down by a former minion,” Galloran mused, his mismatched eyes remote. “Yes, I can sense his Edomic exertions—potent, but strained. He seems both weary and unwavering, no doubt still holding off the torivor. A protective barrier such as he raised requires a great deal of power and concentration. As long as the lurker stays on him, Maldor won’t have an opportunity to attempt any other commands.”

“The torivors promised that the attack would not end until Maldor died,” Rachel said.

Galloran shook his head and fixed Rachel with an intense gaze. “Do you know how many people have tried to undo the emperor? The attempts date back to the war between Zokar and Eldrin. Great warriors and wizards have failed.” The king chuckled. “I privately feared he might find a way to escape the upcoming blast. Now I can rest easier. You have distracted and incapacitated him at precisely the right time. For years Maldor feared others with Edomic talent. Yet he insisted on you as his apprentice. That arrangement did not take long to unravel.”

“I got lucky,” Rachel said. “He was a much stronger wizard than me. The prophecy gave me the crucial hint. Orruck’s command worked perfectly on the Myrkstone, turning it to glass. When I first faced Maldor, I noticed that an Edomic suggestion momentarily stunned him. So I hit him with a bunch of suggestions that slowed him long enough for me to smash the Myrkstone. Then he attacked my clothes with fire. When I had fought him earlier, he’d spoken words to quench my fire, and I memorized them. I guess he didn’t expect me to remember.”

“Fire is the quickest attack,” Galloran said. “He was probably furious and reaching for a hasty victory.”

“He didn’t have much time,” Rachel said. “By the time the fire had failed, the lurker was on him.”

Galloran nodded. “He harnessed dark entities to do his bidding. That can lead to peril if the harness breaks. I am overjoyed that you survived, Rachel, and unspeakably proud of you.”

“What now?” Rachel asked, blushing slightly. “What was the big weakness you discovered? You said something about a blast?”

“Felrook is built upon the mount where orantium was mined anciently. The mining was halted because they encountered a vein too large to extract. Tark is currently working to expose that vein.”

Rachel covered her mouth. “Oh no.”

“He was eager for the opportunity,” Galloran assured her. “He volunteered without coaxing. The mine entrance was so deep underwater that he was the only man for the job. Maldor has founded a mighty empire. Even if he perishes, others could rise to finish what he started. But if the mountain erupts soon, his top leaders and his main fighting forces will be obliterated with him.”

Rachel looked around. She almost didn’t want to ask. “What about Ferrin?”

“Ferrin found the mine for us in the depths of the lake. After he explored it and shared the specifics with Tark, Naman, unbeknownst to me, took him captive to ensure he would stay out of the way.”

Hot anger welled up inside of Rachel. “Where is he?”

“Ferrin promptly escaped,” Galloran said. “He has not been seen since. He may have fled into the wilderness, but I suspect he went to the mine. If so, our future is in his hands as much as in Tark’s. I still have a piece of his neck. If the mountain erupts, we’ll know whether he was there.”

“In the mine?” Rachel repeated numbly. “I can’t lose him, Galloran. We’ve lost too many people. It’s too much. Send a lurker. Send a lurker to retrieve him.”

Galloran gave a nod.

Rachel sensed the king mentally communicating with one of the three lurkers. He made sure the dark figure knew who Ferrin was, then asked the torivor to fetch him.

Before the torivor could leave, the rumbling began, a brisk series of distant, mounting explosions. By the end of the thunderous crescendo, everyone had clamped their hands over their ears. A white flash seared the sky. Rachel heard the blast wave as it swooshed past, bringing the odor of scorched minerals, but the stony bluff prevented her from feeling the brunt of it.

The bluff also blocked Felrook from view. After the blast wave it was not long before rocks came hailing from above, ranging in size from marbles to houses. A meteoric boulder the size of a garbage truck shook the ground when it landed a couple of hundred yards away. The thumping patter of falling material persisted for many seconds.