Chasing the Prophecy

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.”