Chasing the Prophecy

Not long after sunset on the fourth night, Jason and his companions came within sight of Hilloby. There were no more than twenty buildings in the humble hamlet, and not all of them had lit windows. Scattered farmhouses added somewhat to the community. The modest village represented the first evidence of other people Jason had seen since leaving the jungle.

“Who checks the woods north of town?” Drake asked.

“We could all go,” Jason said.

Farfalee shook her head. “We expect to find drinlings with horses, but the drinlings could have been followed. Anything could await us in those woods. We should send a pair to scout.”

“I’ll go,” Jasher said. “And Drake.”

Farfalee gave a nod, and the two seedmen departed.

Jason found a seat beside Corinne on a flat boulder. The night was cool but not cold. Half a moon hung in the sky. He had grown used to sleeping during the day, so he felt wide awake.

He still couldn’t converse with Corinne privately without feeling a flutter of nervous excitement. It wasn’t just because she was ridiculously pretty. She was also grounded and smart and sweet and . . . ridiculously pretty.

“How are you holding up?” Jason asked.

It took her a moment to respond. She shivered and rubbed her elbow. “Honestly? I’m kind of worried. I’ve had this persistent feeling of dread lately. Like something bad is coming.”

“Tonight?”

Her brow furrowed as she looked up at the moon. “I’m not sure. I hope not.”

“Might just be the prophecy,” Aram said, joining the conversation unexpectedly. “I’ve felt unsettled ever since it was spoken. Nobody wants to hear that the odds are stacked heavily against them. It’s one thing to suspect it. Another thing to know it.”

“That’s probably it,” Corinne said, looking up and back at Aram.

“We should be fine for a while,” Jason said. “Nobody has seen us. Even among the others at Mianamon, nobody knows where we’re going.”

“Maldor must have been furious when we fled into the jungle,” Farfalee said, approaching and placing a foot on the edge of the boulder beside Jason. “It is one of the few places where he holds little influence. He’ll be watching for us to emerge all along the border.”

“He knows we were with Galloran,” Aram said. “He’ll pay special heed to the roads leading to Trensicourt.”

“Perhaps,” Farfalee conceded. “Jason is correct that stealth remains our best asset for the present. I’m going to take a look around.” Farfalee strolled away into the shadows.

“The eagles,” Aram muttered once she was out of earshot. “I could do without the eagles. If a tracker knew his trade, those eagles could lead him straight to us. Otherwise I can’t imagine how the emperor—”

“Lurkers,” Jason interrupted. “He’s used them before.” Jason fingered the strand of beads and bone around his neck. “I still have the necklace Rachel brought me from the charm woman. But since Drake gave his to Galloran, the rest of our minds are open to them.”

“I’d sense a lurker,” Corinne said. “I could hear the one that attacked Father. If one reached for us mentally, I’d know.”

“Best not to discuss such things,” Aram said with an air of superstition. “The less our thoughts turn their way the better.”

Jason decided not to add that the best way to get him to focus on something was to tell him not to think about it.

The moon slowly moved across the sky. Corinne leaned back and closed her eyes. Jason tried not to stare at her. Weird that she could totally take him in a swordfight. He had seen her practicing with her father, and she was out of his league.

Jason folded his arms. He glanced at Aram, who had settled on the ground, his broad back to the boulder. Hypothetically, would he have a chance against Aram in a duel? No way. The half giant had such a long reach and swung so hard. What about Jasher? Or Drake? Not if they were really trying. He could spar with them, but if it came down to it, life or death, they would certainly beat him. What if he was using his torivorian sword? No, not unless it shattered Jasher’s blade, and then the seedman tripped or something. Farfalee had never taken a big interest in hand-to-hand combat. Jason thought he might have a chance against her if she didn’t put an arrow through him from a mile away.

Corinne breathed softly, her elegant features bathed in moonlight. Jason shifted around, trying to get more comfortable on the boulder. He was definitely a better fighter than he used to be, but if every member of his team could defeat him in combat, didn’t that make him the weakest link? When things got bad, what was he supposed to contribute?

He understood how Rachel would help. As her Edomic abilities increased, her value grew exponentially. He remembered her sending that flaming table across the main room at the Last Inn. That was some serious power. He could picture her making a difference on her mission. He just didn’t understand why the oracle had paid so much attention to him.

Maybe he was stressing too much. Maybe he just needed to relax. Hopefully, if he stayed ready and tried his best, he would manage to make himself useful when the time came. Why did he feel like he was totally kidding himself?

Aram began to snore. Farfalee, obviously restless, came and went a few times. And then the sound of approaching hoofbeats brought Jason, Corinne, and Aram to their feet.

“That has to be good, right?” Jason said. “Horses?”

“I don’t sense anything bad,” Corinne said, wiping her eyes.

“They’re coming right at us,” Aram whispered. “Jasher or Drake would never have given us up. Let’s take cover just in case.” He drew his enormous sword, from pommel to tip about as long as Jason was tall, the blade heavy and sharp. Aram held it casually in one hand. Most grown men would struggle to heft it with two.

The threesome ducked into the cover of some bushes. Farfalee joined them after a moment, an arrow nocked and ready. Aram pried the lid off one of the buckets of orantium.

Eight horses with six riders trotted into view. Four of the riders were drinlings. “All clear,” Jasher called from astride his mount.

Jason and the others emerged from hiding.

“We made four new friends,” Drake said. “They’re well provisioned.”

“I only count two spare mounts,” Farfalee observed.

“Two of us will now make our way afoot,” said one of the newcomers, his words accented.