Chasing the Prophecy

Jason shrugged, looking away. “It was nice having her around. I worry about her. I try to remind myself that she’s in good company. I bet you miss the mental chats. With Galloran and Rachel gone, you’re the only telepathic person around.”

“I’m not sure I appreciated how much I relied on speaking in silence until the option was taken from me. I’ve tried several times to reach out to them over the great distance, but with no hint of success.”

“You guys never could make it work over more than a mile or so.”

“And only that far with considerable effort.”

“Well, it’ll be good exercise for your lips.”

“It’ll be good exercise for your lips,” Jason’s voice repeated from behind him. Jason whirled, sword ready, baffled by the perfect echo. He glanced over at Corinne. “Did you hear that?”

“Did you hear that?” replied a voice not far off in the jungle. Once again the speaker managed a perfect impersonation of Jason. Taking a few steps in the direction of the impostor, Jason found himself staring at a creamy parrot with a frill of orange feathers around its head.

Corinne stepped toward Jason, sword in hand. “It sounded just like you.”

“It sounded just like you,” the bird repeated in Corinne’s voice. It flitted from the branch it occupied to a perch farther from the brook. “Did you hear that?” the parrot asked in Corinne’s voice. “It sounded just like you,” the bird replied as Jason.

“No way,” Jason said, pushing past ferns to get a closer look at the parrot.

“No way,” the bird responded in Corinne’s voice.

Something came charging recklessly through the shrubs from off to one side. Jason pivoted to see Bahootsa racing toward him, a knife in one hand, the other thorny arm flailing, waving Jason back toward the brook.

Jason looked from Bahootsa to the bird. Could it be dangerous? As he backed away uncertainly, the parrot took flight, and the shadows behind it came to life as a gargantuan jungle cat sprang out of the gloom. Bahootsa intercepted the monstrous feline mid-leap, tackling it sideways, altering the trajectory of the jump enough that the outstretched claws whooshed through the air beside Jason, narrowly missing their target.

The jungle cat shook off Bahootsa. Numerous gaping wounds opened as unforgiving thorns shredded its glossy hide. Bristling and falling back, the huge cat roared, a ferocious sound that sent dozens of the surrounding birds skyward. Jason stared numbly at its long white fangs, yellowed at the base, and held his sword ready. No lion or tiger was ever half the weight of this huge alpha predator.

Bahootsa was back on his feet, shuffling to position himself between Jason and the great cat, crimson blood dripping from his thorns. Sword held defensively, Jason backed out of the vegetation to the bare red clay of the stream’s bank. He sensed Corinne behind him and stopped retreating. No way would he let the jungle cat get to her. The thought made him braver. If his sword could cut through a tree, it could tear through an oversized cat skull. He would need to time it right.

As the jungle cat crouched low, wads of muscle bunching in the shoulders, one of its green eyes vanished, a feathered shaft suddenly protruding. Yowling fiercely, the great cat whirled and darted away into the trees.

Swiveling, Jason saw that Farfalee had already set a second arrow to her bowstring and drawn the feathers to her cheek. She stood no less than thirty yards away. How she had threaded an arrow through all that foliage and into the eye of the cat was mind-blowing. She remained ready to release the second arrow as Bahootsa joined Jason and Corinne.

“We call the mimicking bird a sonalid,” Bahootsa said, the words coming out heavily accented. “They often hunt in tandem with a dagamond. The sonalid lures the prey into danger. While the cat eats, the sonalid picks parasites from its pelt.”

Heart thudding, Jason nodded woodenly. The shock had barely begun to fade. “Are you okay?”

Bahootsa grinned. “My thorns are harder than stone. I am not easy prey. Worse predators than dagamonds prowl the depths of the jungle.”

Jason had never fully appreciated how well the serpentine briars and abundant black thorns of the prickly treefolk functioned as armor. Bahootsa was walking around in his own portable shark cage.

“You saved my life,” Jason said as Farfalee, Jasher, and Drake approached.

“I pledged to see you safely to our borders,” Bahootsa replied. He gestured at the others. “We save your lives many times each day. This time was just a close call. It was a wily old dagamond. I did not sense it stalking us.” He faced Farfalee. “An expert shot.”

“I try to be useful,” she replied, the arrow no longer on her string but still in her hand. Her eyes studied the jungle.

“It is gone,” Bahootsa said. “The dagamond got more than it bargained for. Plenty more. It prefers to surprise its victim, make an easy kill. It isn’t accustomed to a challenge. It has little experience with pain.”

“Are you all right?” Corinne asked, placing a hand on Jason’s arm.

“I’m fine,” Jason replied. “My heart rate might be a little high. For a second there I thought I was panther chow.” He sheathed his sword.

“Predators love stragglers,” Bahootsa said. “We should remain together.”

* * *

Over the next several days the jungle began to feel more sparse, the air less humid, and the nights chillier. Animal sightings became less frequent, and the need for the treefolk guides diminished.

Atop a low bluff, with grassland stretching out before them, Jason and his companions bid farewell to Bahootsa and the treefolk. The sun went down, and Aram expanded from puny to formidable. After their guides melted away into the twilight, the others sat in a loose circle. Jason appreciated the chance to rest. Without the treefolk the group felt small.

“We’ll miss those guides,” Drake commented, biting into a succulent piece of fruit. “Having them around almost made this a holiday.”

“The jungle is their domain,” Jasher replied. “They’re uncomfortable abroad. And with stealth our greatest need, their presence would prove a liability. Every pair of eyes would linger on them.”

“More treefolk should roam the kingdoms,” Drake groused. “At least in the south. If they left their jungle from time to time, they might not stand out so much in a crowd.”

Jason gazed ahead at the grassy expanse they would have to cross. Maldor would be hunting for them, and he saw no place to hide. At least with the treefolk along they could have fought off greater numbers.