Chasing the Prophecy (Beyonders) (95 page)

“A true cavern at last,” Heg remarked. “I was beginning to question whether these puny tunnels should be renamed the Scalding Rabbit Holes.”

“This chamber is evidence that we’re moving in the right direction,” Farfalee called back. “Stay with us.”

Jason inched out onto the ledge after Corinne. The blistering air stung his eyes, and steam fogged his vision. He tried to breathe through the material of his sleeve to help strain the smothering fumes. The narrow ledge was slick with oily dampness, which made every step risky. He edged forward cautiously, sliding his feet rather than lifting them. To fall would mean certain death.

At the far side of the ledge Jason followed Corinne into a crack in the wall. Bracing against the sides of the fissure, he had to chimney up for twenty feet before reaching where the tunnel continued.

Once the hellish cavern was behind them, they increased their pace again. Jason was relieved to find the air growing a bit fresher. “I can breathe a little,” he said.

“What a treat,” Corinne replied without turning.

“If the air had gotten any thicker, it would have become solid.”

That earned a chuckle.

Their path was trending up more than down now, and they had a little more space to maneuver. From up ahead they heard loud gurgling and sloshing. Jasher started to jog, and the others matched his pace. Drenched in greasy sweat, Jason panted shallowly. His head started to pound.

They reached an intersection where the corridor forked. The sound of heaving water noisily emanated from the left passage. Jasher headed right.

From behind, the sloshing increased to a blustery roar.

“Faster!” Del called.

Their pace increased to a sprint. The cave was growing narrow, so Jason jostled against the sides as he ran, scraping his shoulders. He pulled against the knobby walls where possible to keep his momentum. The muscles in his legs burned, and a sharp pain corkscrewed into his side. The watery roar behind him increased in ferocity. A moist, sweltering gale swept over him. He expected a searing tide to overcome him at any moment.

The tight cave broadened into a roomy cavern. Leg muscles protesting, Jason dashed across the cavern, a couple of paces behind Corinne. He followed her up a slope at the far side of the room and into another cramped tunnel. A jagged stone protuberance slashed the outside of his upper arm as he blundered against it. He hardly felt the pain. Behind him he heard water hissing and surging.

“Duck,” Corinne called back to him.

He relayed the message back to Aram and crouched low. Soon he was hurriedly crawling, his knees and elbows suffering because of his haste. His heart hammered rapidly. He felt like a participant in a nightmare marathon designed to drive claustrophobics insane.

“We might be clear,” Heg called from behind. “The cavern behind us had many offshoots. I think it absorbed the eruption.”

The way sloped more dramatically upward. The air kept feeling less suffocating. They no longer tried to crawl at a sprint, but they continued to hurry. After falling flat to wriggle through a low gap, they could stand again.

Steam vents and threatening gurgles became less frequent. The air cooled and freshened. Jason felt less edgy. The steepness tired his legs, but the evidence that they were on their way out of the subterranean maze boosted his spirits.

At last, drenched and panting, caked with grime, they emerged from an aperture near the bottom of a deep chasm. Vertical walls of rock loomed at either hand, leading to an unreachable strip of sky high above. Water flowed from wall to wall along the floor of the gorge, before slurping underground twenty feet below the gap they had exited.

“The river helps feed the caverns,” Farfalee noted. “This is the Narrow Way. We must proceed until we reach the falls.”

“Where’s the trail?” Nia asked.

“The river is the trail,” Jasher replied. “We walk upstream.”

Fortunately, the river was not raging. The current was steady, but it slowed where the gorge widened. At some points islands or ledges poked out of the water. Most of the time they slogged upriver with the water level somewhere between their knees and waists.

Unlike in the Scalding Caverns, this water was cool. Almost too cool, though not unbearable. Jasher tried to choose the easiest route, avoiding deep pools and leading them onto ledges and islands wherever possible. On one long island they paused to eat and refresh themselves.

Corinne looked skyward. “Stars are coming out. Why is Aram still small?”

“Could be that the deep gorge is creating a premature twilight,” Farfalee said.

“Aye,” Aram confirmed. “The way my condition works, standing in a shadowy canyon does not count as sundown. I won’t change until the sun drops below the horizon we would see from
up top. I’ve developed a sense for it over the years. Feels like it will be another couple of hours yet.”

After the break they plodded onward. In some places they had to wade up to their chests or even swim a little. The gorge grew gloomier with every passing minute. Jason was glad for his seaweed.

While they forced their way forward against a waist-deep current, Jason noticed Corinne shivering. She hugged her elbows close, and her neck was pebbled with gooseflesh.

“Corinne is freezing,” Jason announced.

“I’ll be fine,” she replied hastily, unable to prevent her teeth from chattering. “The evening is warm.”

“Water saps heat faster than air,” Aram said. “I’m feeling it too.”

“We’ll pause to recover on the little island up ahead,” Farfalee said. She held up a hand. “Wait a moment. Stop and listen.” Everyone came to a halt.

“The falls,” Nia said.

Jason heard them too. “We’ve got to be close.”

Upon reaching the island, they could find no materials for a fire, but Jasher produced a dry blanket for Corinne to use after she had wrung out her clothes. Nia tirelessly rubbed Corinne’s arms, shoulders, back, and legs to help warm her.

Heg stood on the far side of the island beside Farfalee, gazing toward the unseen falls. “Do you suppose we’ll reach the falls tonight?” Heg asked.

“I expect so,” Farfalee said. “I think we should press on until we get there. The sooner we learn what the seer has to offer, the sooner Galloran can benefit from the information.”

“Aram, when will you grow?” Heg called.

“Not much longer.”

In a single quick movement Heg drew his dagger and stabbed Farfalee in the chest. Cupping his hand against the back of her neck, he caught her seed as it came free. As her body collapsed, Heg held the bloodstained dagger point to her amar.

“No!” Jasher cried, face contorting with shock and rage as he drew his sword.

Jason had been removing some dried meat from his pack. He remained in a crouch, petrified with astonishment.

“Everyone keep still!” Heg demanded. “It would be tragic to see such a long and illustrious life obliterated.”

Jasher restrained himself and gestured for the others to stand down. “What is the meaning of this?”

“We needed to have this conversation at some point before reaching the falls. Now seemed the opportune moment.”

“You’re not Heg,” Del accused. “You can’t be. What’s going on?”

“Correct,” Heg said with a smile. “I have been known by many names. Heg is the most recent. The drinling fought valiantly, by the way, but perished back at Gulba alongside his brethren.” Heg’s face suddenly transformed, and with it his voice. It was suddenly the face of Groddic. “In recent years I have most frequently been known as Groddic.”

Jason could hardly believe his eyes. He stood upright, his hand near his sword. He glanced at the others, trying to gauge how they wanted to deal with this.

“The Wanderer,” Jasher growled. “You’re Zokar’s shape-shifter!”

“I have been known by those names as well,” the Wanderer admitted. “None who associate those names with me ever live to tell the tale.”

“Groddic was the Wanderer all along?” Aram asked.

“Maldor was the only man alive to know my true identity,” the Wanderer said. “We became partners long ago. Out of necessity I get no credit, but I was instrumental in his rise to power. He brings me in to fix his messiest problems. Like this one.”

“We killed you,” Nia said weakly.

The Wanderer shook his head. “Hard to slay a shape-shifter. I can heal my wounds too quickly, rearrange my insides. I pretended to succumb to my injuries back at Gulba. The decision could have gone either way. I knew I could probably take you. I stayed down because you had horses. Had I revealed myself, some of you might have escaped and spoiled my secret. I suspected a better opportunity would come. And here we are.”

“You captured the eagle,” Corinne accused, her teeth no longer chattering.

The Wanderer grinned. “I became a jungle condor, a bird much larger than any eagle. I can reshape myself into any living thing I have touched. I have lived a long time, sampled many life-forms. Including Heg.”

Jason thought about his orantium sphere. He couldn’t throw it while the Wanderer held Farfalee’s seed. He pulled out his sword. Whatever happened, he needed to be ready.

“Why are we talking?” Jasher asked. “Have you an offer?”

“That depends what the amar of your wife is worth,” the Wanderer said casually. Keeping the knifepoint near the seed, he examined it speculatively. “I have never disposed of a sitting member of the Conclave.”

“If you harm her amar, you will face the eternal wrath of my people,” Jasher threatened.

“I have destroyed more than twenty amars,” the Wanderer bragged. “There can be no vengeance against secret deeds.”

“I cannot guess what terms you could possibly offer,” Jasher said.

“Her seed is the only concession I can grant,” the Wanderer said. “All Farfalee knew before she was cut off from her senses was that Heg stabbed her. She does not know it was the Wanderer. She did not know that Heg had any connection to Groddic. If you volunteer your amar to me, Jasher, I swear to safely plant her seed.”

“What about the others?” Jasher asked.

“The others know my identity. They must die. But your wife could live. If you fight me, she dies along with the rest of you. Make your choice.”

Jason held his breath, wondering which way Jasher would lean.

“I don’t trust you to keep your word,” Jasher said.

“I can alter my face at will,” the Wanderer said. “My only lasting identity is my honor. I am not lying. Knowing as little as your wife does, what does it cost me to spare her? I will keep her seed safe until this war is over, and then she will be planted. Who knows? She might emerge as the last of your people.”

“How do you propose to claim my amar?” Jasher asked.

“I won’t let you near me,” the Wanderer said. “Let Del execute you and toss me your seed.”

“I would give all my lives for her,” Jasher said. “But to do so now would be folly.”

The seedman flung a knife and rushed forward, his torivorian blade held high. The Wanderer dodged the thrown dagger and plunged his blade into the seed. Jason felt as if the blade had entered his own body. Casting the seed aside, the Wanderer barely had time to draw Heg’s sword before Jasher reached him.

The blades clashed furiously. Del and Nia followed Jasher, but hung back. The narrowness of the island made it hard for more than one attacker to engage the Wanderer unless they did so from the water.

Jason held his orantium globe ready, but there was no way to harm the Wanderer with Jasher in the way. He could hardly believe the Wanderer had stabbed the seed. That simple act had permanently extinguished lifetimes of existence. Another of his friends had fallen.

The Wanderer tried to stab Jasher with his dagger and lost his hand in the attempt. The severed hand dissolved into ashen dust. Jasher pressed a graceful attack, but the Wanderer defended himself with alarming skill. With a shake of his damaged arm, a new hand replaced the lost one.

“Watch the combat for an opening,” Aram whispered to Jason. “Groddic stands between us and the waterfall, but while we keep him busy, you could make a run for it. Only one of us needs to survive.”

“He can turn into anything he wants,” Jason said. “He’d catch me before I went far, whether or not he had to interrupt the fight. We have to beat him.”

“Are you about to grow?” Corinne asked Aram.

“Another minute or two,” Aram replied, stripping off his clothes. “I should get my armor ready.”

Jasher stabbed the Wanderer through the chest, the blade sinking deep, but had to lunge back to avoid a counterstroke. The fight went on. The Wanderer appeared indifferent to the injury.

“We have to cut him to pieces!” Jasher yelled. “No other wound will harm him.”

“Many have tried,” the Wanderer boasted with a laugh. “I’ve lost minor portions of myself over the years. More than enough remains to punish the lot of you.”

Del and Nia had splashed into the river to get behind the Wanderer, but the shape-shifter fell back to the tip of the island, preventing them from attacking on dry ground. To further complicate
matters, the Wanderer sprouted a heavy tail with a bony bulge at the end and used it to threaten the drinlings. Nia hit the bony knob with her sword, and the weapon flew from her hands.

“He has eyes in the back of his head!” Del exclaimed. “Literally!”

“I’m just getting started,” the Wanderer laughed.

With a muffled groan Aram started to grow.

The Wanderer’s tongue shot out from his mouth and coiled around Jasher’s neck. Jasher slashed through it, and the severed portion disintegrated, but the seedman was late blocking the next thrust, and the Wanderer impaled him.

Dropping to his knees, Jasher cut off the Wanderer’s legs at the thighs. The Wanderer thumped to the ground and lunged into the river. He did not surface. Del and Nia looked around intently, swords poised.

Still transfixed by the sword, eyes full of pain and frustration, Jasher looked back at Jason. “The amar can be resilient. We can’t know the extent of the damage. Plant her immediately. I . . . I still have—”

His sentence was interrupted when his amar dislodged, bouncing off the island and into the water. Jasher slumped lifelessly.