Chasing the Prophecy (Beyonders) (83 page)

Rachel listened to the clamor of battle inside the fortress. “What now?”

“We wait for victory.”

*  *  *

Not long before dawn Rachel ate breakfast inside the dining hall of West Keep. She felt halfway back to normal—her body remained weary, but her mind felt clear. Galloran ate with her. Ferrin sat beside her. Other leaders and friends joined them, including Naman, Ul, Io, Brin, Tark, Lodan, a drinling leader called Obb, and a seedman named Herral. Naman had commanded the attack on North Keep, Obb had supervised the conquest of South Keep, and Herral had overseen the taking of East Keep.

Before Rachel had reunited with Ferrin, she had already heard men singing his praises. Apparently, he had been quite a hero
at East Keep, leading hundreds of soldiers past the walls undetected. They had taken the wall and opened the gates, attacking the defenders in the yard from above as the main force rushed through unhindered.

Rachel glanced sideways at Ferrin as she crumbled her biscuits and stirred them together with her eggs. “Tell me about your night. I hear you saved the day.”

“I can share what I didn’t do,” Ferrin said. “I didn’t singlehandedly blow open the gates, ram a wagonload of fire through the breach, then commence with a hailstorm of orantium. How’s your head?”

“Feeling better,” Rachel said. “It was good to stretch myself. Hopefully, I’ll have more endurance next time. But I want details! I keep hearing how well things went at East Keep.”

“We entered belowground. I disposed of some guards silently. We had practically filled the dungeon before we had to blow a door to proceed. The blast announced our presence, but our foes responded poorly. We killed some sentries and made it to the top of the wall before anybody really understood what was happening. Some orantium followed by brawny drinlings went a long way toward clearing the top of the wall. While seedfolk archers rained arrows into the yard, we reached the mechanisms and opened the gates.”

“The displacer offers a humble account,” Herral said. “He slew at least twenty foes, including three displacers, and lost his head leading the charge along the wall.”

“I got it back,” Ferrin clarified.

“He personally opened the gates,” Herral went on. “Then he led a team into the keep proper by another secret way. Without using gatecrashers, we lost fewer than a hundred souls taking East Keep, and we slew better than a thousand.”

“The offensive could not have gone more smoothly,” Naman announced. “Attacking fortifications like these keeps, we should have lost at least five soldiers for every enemy slain. Instead, the balance of casualties was well in our favor. We lost fewer than fifteen hundred fighters in total, including fewer than a hundred at East Keep and fewer than two hundred at West Keep, where we enjoyed the greatest advantages.”

“It was an inspiring victory,” Galloran agreed, his eyes closed. “It will also be our only victory unless we take Felrook soon. The keeps were meant to hinder us, but the fatal trap remains. We will be outnumbered more than twenty to one when Maldor’s armies return from the east.”

Rachel plucked little chunks from her roll, pinching it apart instead of eating it. Last night had been nightmarish, and that had been a victory! What would defeat look like? She wished they had more time to enjoy their success.

“I’ll start walling off the gateless entrances this morning,” Brin said. “We’ll make our captured fortresses as secure as possible. And I’ll get to work on how we might crack Felrook.”

“We must all bend our thoughts toward raiding Felrook,” Galloran said. “We have no time to starve them out. We cannot flee. We cannot resist the coming tide of enemies. We must take Felrook before they arrive or else perish.”

Rachel had already been thinking long and hard about how they might penetrate Felrook. She had come up with no brilliant schemes. She would put more thought into it as Galloran asked, but she hoped they wouldn’t be relying on her to supply the answer.

“Felrook has secret passages,” Ferrin said, “but none that lead in or out. I know of no fortress more secure—no gate less available, no walls less reachable, no defenses more comprehensive. With
only one way up the cliffs, we cannot throw numbers at the problem. There is no access for siege towers or ladders. Expert climbers would be hard-pressed to reach the base of the walls under ideal conditions. The best trebuchet ever designed could not fling a stone halfway up the cliffs.”

Ul leaned over and spoke to Obb in Ji, the staccato drinling language.

“We have orantium,” Obb said.

“Which could create opportunities,” Ferrin allowed. “It will be hard to deliver explosives. Even if we destroy the gates, the path up the cliff is rigged to collapse. How do wingless men attack a fortified island in the sky?”

“The task appears impossible,” Galloran said. “It will require all our strength and ingenuity. But there has to be a way to succeed. We know this by prophecy. We must invent a way to accomplish our aim. Not just our lives, but the lives of every man, woman, and child in Lyrian depend on it. Obsess about this problem. Encourage your best men to wrestle with it. And the least of your men. Stay open to strategies never attempted before.”

Ferrin leaned close to Rachel so he could whisper. “Translation? Pray that Lord Jason succeeds in his quest. Try not to lose your sanity in the meanwhile.”

CHAPTER
23

S
hortly after dawn, from the shoulder of a craggy hill streaked orange and white, Jason viewed his first panoramic vista of the Fuming Waste. Bands of red, orange, yellow, pink, and white gave striking color to the limestone landscape. Stunted vegetation subsisted in sparse patches—contorted trees, scraggly shrubs, and prickly cacti. Two geysers were erupting, one not far below, the other more distant. Both spewed sparkling towers of scalding water and steam into the air. Within a minute or two the nearer fountain shrank to a bubbling froth and then stopped. The distant geyser kept gushing for a good while. A third geyser started up in the middle distance, just before the far one began to decline.

“It’s lovely,” Corinne said from astride her gelding. “Look at the new one!”

As the soaring eruption continued to stretch higher, refracted sunlight laced the spray with prismatic ripples of color. Behind the radiant display, the farther geyser continued to diminish.

“Three geysers in a row?” Jason said. “I hope geysers are lucky.”

Jasher grunted. “If so, we have come to the luckiest place in Lyrian.”

“I cannot vouch for their value as omens,” Farfalee said, “but the waters of the Fuming Waste are certainly unruly. We’re only at the outskirts. As we draw nearer to the mountains we will find hot springs, painted rivers, sludge pits, cauldrons, sinkholes, steam vents, mineral terraces, mud volcanoes, and geyser cones. None of our maps will be perfect, for the geography here evolves much more rapidly than anywhere else in Lyrian. We will need to proceed with care. There are volatile areas where the ground becomes wafer thin above boiling lakes or where scant layers of sand disguise wells of searing mud.”

“Sounds perfect for a picnic,” Jason quipped. “Who brought the sandwiches?”

“I have ridden this hazardous region before,” Jasher said, “though I never came so near to the heart of the Fuming Waste as this journey demands. Certain indicators can help protect us. Watch for steaming ground. Watch for webs of cracks. Feel for warm pockets. Listen for gurgling. Listen for the earth below popping or splitting. We’ll ride single file.” He pointed into the distance. “The Great Yellow Cone is our first landmark. From there we must proceed across the Polished Plain to the Stepping-Stones, past the Giant’s Bathhouse, and finally into the Scalding Caverns.”

“And Rachel has the good camera,” Jason sighed. “Anything after the Scalding Caverns? Maybe the Flaming Hot Ocean of Misery?”

“The Narrow Way,” Farfalee said. “And finally our destination.”

Jason could see the first landmark poking above a distant ridgeline. The conical mount was shaped just like a volcano that a child would draw, its coloring the same yellow and white as a lemon meringue pie.

During the long ride north they had not been spied by their adversaries, though as he scouted, Jasher had occasionally glimpsed enemy riders from a distance. The seedman had led their group on a lengthy ride inland before veering northward. The strategy had added at least a day to the trek, but it made the task very difficult for any soldiers who sailed north in order to cut them off or pick up their trail.

Two of Farfalee’s messenger eagles had returned to her after she had set them loose the night they had abandoned the
Valiant
. She did not dare let them fly for fear of revealing their location. Instead, she kept them tethered to Aram’s saddle, feeding the large birds from the group’s rations.

Jason flicked his reins and followed Jasher down the rugged hillside. The seedman weaved along the slope, inventing the trail as he went. Aram pointed out a black scorpion the size of a lobster. Jasher warned that the smaller, orange scorpions had a deadlier sting. Jason didn’t crave an encounter with either variety.

They saw no new geysers for more than an hour, but by sunset Jason had counted eleven. They made camp in a cove of red rock. In addition to their regular rations, everyone but Jasher and Farfalee sampled part of the five-foot pit snake Del had killed. The cooked meat was chewy and almost sweet.

The next day the Great Yellow Cone grew gradually nearer. Jason had a hard time gauging its size. It was certainly nothing to rival the mountains on the horizon, but it was a good deal taller than the surrounding mesas, drawing the eye more than any other feature.

As the day wore on, they more frequently passed steaming vents. Some were jagged cracks no wider than a pencil, others yawning holes large enough to swallow a motor home. They also came across bubbling pools of muck—some red, some black,
some white, most a silvery gray. The mud varied in thickness from viscous sludge to watery syrup. Some pools coughed up an occasional slow bubble; others simmered vigorously. Most of them reeked of sulfur.

Throughout the ride Jason missed Drake. He missed his teasing comments, his reliable advice, and even his cynical predictions. He missed the steady competence of his presence. They were less safe without him. More than once Jason had caught himself wondering when Drake would return from scouting, only to remember that his friend would never be back. From time to time he rode with his head bowed to hide the tears.

They stopped for the night near a black pool with a churning disturbance near the center. After making camp, Jason went to stare at the pool while twilight faded. The constant disruption heaved dark fluid eight feet into the air, like a small, permanent geyser. The central churning kept the rest of the surface rippling vigorously. Jasher called the murky pool a cauldron, which Jason considered an apt description

As more stars emerged in the darkening sky, Corinne joined Jason beside the pool. For a long moment she watched with him in silence. Eventually he noticed that her attention had shifted from the pool to him. “Are you all right?” she asked.

“I’m good,” Jason said, uncertain how else to respond.

“You’ve seemed extra quiet lately.”

“Have you heard? We’re being hunted.”

“I’m serious.”

Jason turned his attention back to the pool. “I don’t know. It’s been harder since we lost Drake. And then we lost so many people at Gulba. I guess it’s getting to me.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Corinne said.

Jason looked at her sharply. “You’re heartless.”

“No,” she apologized. “I mean, I’m glad because I feel the same way. I feel . . . drained, sad . . . you know.”

“I know. It’s rough. I guess we try to look on the bright side. We’re getting close. Maybe some of us will actually make it.”

“All the rest of us,” she said.

“I hope so.” He glanced her way. “You were amazing against that lurker. I couldn’t believe it.”

“Neither could I,” Corinne said. “I was so scared. But I could feel its mind, and I knew I had a chance. I also knew it would lead soldiers to us. It might have made escape impossible. It had no weapon. I felt like I had to try.”