Chasing the Prophecy

“Minor mischief has been planned in a few other kingdoms. To my surprise, a group of four hundred treefolk are currently marching to our aid. They should join us before we reach Felrook.”

“The treefolk have never left the jungle,” Nollin said in surprise.

“The treefolk have never had more reason to care for matters outside their borders,” Galloran said. “Through Esmira in the past, and now through Ulani, they have been kept informed of the relevance of our plight. Even so, four hundred is only token support. They could make a much more significant difference if they dared.”

Nollin nodded. “We’re fortunate to have any of their aid. I had time to observe them. They may not be quite as effective outside their native jungles, but the treefolk are serious warriors.”

“They have been strengthened by hardship,” Nedwin said. “They were invaded and nearly wiped out by Zokar. And deep in the heart of the jungle they must contend with fearsome predators that most of us can scarcely imagine.”

“My business is complete,” Galloran said. “Ferrin has some news.”

All eyes turned to the displacer.

“Jason has done an excellent job of keeping my ear away from delicate conversations. A prudent practice, given my background, although the precaution limits our knowledge of how their mission is progressing.”

“We know they hijacked an interceptor at Durna,” Nollin remarked. “The empire is astir over it.”

“We know more than that,” Ferrin said. “I overheard a conversation today. I believe my ear was packed away in Jason’s cabin aboard the ship, less bundled than normally, and he forgot that I might overhear as he entered conversing with Drake.”

“What’s the news?” Rachel asked.

“Jason and the others have reached Windbreak Island. They have confronted the Maumet, losing a number of drinlings in the process. They found the guardian virtually invincible, but I take heart that some of them survived the encounter. They are currently developing strategies to engage it.”

“How does the timing of their progress synchronize with our attack?” Nollin asked.

“We have to trust the oracle,” Galloran said. “She informed us when to begin our assignments. We complied. How long their quest takes will depend on the hardships they face and how far they must travel to reach the abode of Darian the Seer.”

“Unknowable variables,” Nollin agreed.

Galloran stood. “We all have arrangements to make for tomorrow. I will counsel with Nedwin, Nollin, and Kerick tonight after Nedwin is officially appointed regent. Thank you all for your service.”

Rachel replaced her wide-brimmed hat and arranged the dark veil over her face. She left the room behind Nedwin and walked down the stairs. Was she really about to go to war? With real battles? How much would the others be counting on her? Galloran often talked like her Edomic skills would provide them with an important advantage. Even though she had built up her endurance, she could only make a limited number of people freeze up or flop to the ground at a time. There were only so many flaming tables she could throw before running out of juice.

As panic threatened to unbalance her, she told herself to take it one step at a time. War was coming. It would be ugly. But it wouldn’t start today. There was no point in losing her grip yet. What could she do right now? What preparations did she have to make? Not many. She had chosen her horse. Her gear would be prepped by others. She supposed she should go practice her Edomic.

At the bottom of the stairs, the group dispersed in different directions. Rachel noticed Nedwin walking down a lonely corridor, head slightly bowed. He staggered a little before disappearing around a corner.

“I was glad to hear Lord Jason remains alive,” Tark was telling Io. “Not surprised, mind you. It will take more than a Maumet to stop him, mark my words. There’s more to him than greets the eye. He’ll find a way to enter the Celestine Library or I’ve never touched a sousalax.”

“Wait here for me,” Rachel said.

“Here?” Io questioned.

“I’ll be quick,” Rachel promised. “I just remembered something I need to ask Nedwin in private.”

Tark folded his arms. “Begging your pardon, milady, you shouldn’t go wandering off without—”

“We’re in the castle. I’ll only be a moment.” She was already hurrying after Nedwin. She reached the bend in the hall in time to see him proceeding up a stairwell. She didn’t get much of a look, but he no longer appeared particularly despondent. Maybe she was jumping at shadows, imagining how she would feel if she learned she would have to govern an entire kingdom.

Still she followed him, just in case. At the top of the stairs she found a quiet hall. Nedwin sat on the floor, back to the wall, elbows on his knees, both hands in his unruly red hair.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

He glanced over at her. “I heard someone following me. I thought it was you. I just need some time. You should go make ready for tomorrow.”

“I’m ready,” Rachel said. “I don’t mean to intrude.”

He lowered his hands, placing both palms on one knee. “I appreciate the interest. You’re kind.”

Rachel assumed that was the closest she would get to an invitation. She walked toward him. “Are you worried about serving as regent?”

He exhaled sharply. She thought the gust was intended as a chuckle. “An honor I did not seek and which I do not desire. Did you know that I have almost no fears left in me?”

“You’re definitely not afraid of heights.”

“I don’t fear fire or water or starvation. I’m not afraid to fight. I fear no man or beast. I fear no illness. No punishment. No torture. I’m not afraid to die, Rachel. Part of me would welcome the release.”

“You shouldn’t talk that way,” Rachel said.

He ignored the comment. “I have troubling dreams. I dislike my dreams. Aside from the tricks my mind plays when I sleep, I only have two fears left. Would you like to know what they are?”

“Okay.”

“I’m afraid for King Galloran. I want to keep him safe. And I’m afraid of disappointing King Galloran. This opportunity to serve as regent will separate me from him. I will not be able to protect him. And I will be in a position to fail him.”

“I’m sure you’ll do great.”

“I’m glad one of us feels confident. Rachel, through dark years that I would prefer to forget, I clung to the idea of Galloran. Trensicourt was not worth all I suffered. Not even freedom from tyranny was worth it. But that man was worth all I endured and more. I failed him when he was captured. I only survived in the hope that Galloran would need me. And he does. But I won’t be with him.”