Chasing the Prophecy

Jason watched the skillful apes without any pleasure at all. So why was he here? Had he thought the apes might hold solutions to his troubles? Of course not. Then what was he doing? Sulking? Hiding?

Jason had spent more days at this tropical temple than the rest of his time in Lyrian combined. He had turned fourteen at some point, though he couldn’t be certain which day, since the passage of time between his world and Lyrian was out of sync. Further complicating matters, the calendar in Lyrian had ten months, each with thirty-eight days.

Winter in the jungle had never grown cold. The days had gotten a little shorter, the air less warm on occasion, the rainfall more persistent, but Jason had never needed a heavy cloak. He had spent much of the winter training with weapons. Ferrin, Drake, Aram, Corinne, and Jasher had been working directly with Galloran, and they had in turn provided instruction to Jason, Tark, Nia, Io, and Farfalee.

Jason was a much improved swordsman. He could now make a respectable showing against Ferrin or Drake on the practice field. Farfalee had helped him with archery, Nedwin had offered lessons in knife work, and Io had tutored him in wrestling. For the first time, Jason felt he might be able to contribute in a fight, rather than desperately hope to survive until the others got the job done. In theory he would be more useful than ever. Could his new combat skills be part of the reason the oracle had placed so much importance on his participation in the upcoming quest?

“Catching one last ape battle?” a voice asked, making Jason jump and turn. It was Rachel, looking mystical in her acolyte robes. He hadn’t seen her since the incident, and although Galloran had reassured him that she was fine, it was a relief to see she truly looked unharmed.

“Some people build model ships. Some pop bubble wrap. I’m more into dueling gibbons.”

“Ferrin was looking for you.”

“I was going to come down. Eventually.” He tried to think of a smooth way to bring up the attempt on her life. “Hey, are you okay?”

“I didn’t get stabbed. I’m about how you’d expect.”

“I’m so sorry that happened.”

“I talked to Galloran. He helped. I’d honestly rather not dwell on it.” Rachel sighed, eyes on the apes. “Can you believe we’re leaving?”

“Not really. I knew it was coming, but still . . . I wish I felt more ready.”

“How do you get ready to save the world or die trying?”

“I guess that’s the problem.” Jason stood, stretching his arms and legs. It felt good. He must have held the same position for longer than he had realized. “Are you wearing those robes out of here? Planning to do some trick-or-treating?”

Rachel chuckled, looking down at herself. “I’ll wear Amar Kabal robes for the road. But I’m bringing these, too. Galloran thinks they make me look more wizardly.”

“Don’t dress for the job you have—dress for the job you want.”

“I guess that’s the idea. Maybe I should dress up as an innocent bystander.”

“Too late for that.” Jason stared down at his feet. He was going to miss her. Rachel’s hand clasped his and he glanced up. Her eyes looked a little misty. He scowled. “Don’t get all sentimental.”

“I hate that we have to split up.”

“If you can’t trust an old lady packed in clay and dipped in perfume, who can you trust?” With her dying words, the oracle had established that Rachel, Galloran, Io, Ferrin, Nedwin, Nollin, and Tark had to depart on one quest while Jason, Farfalee, Jasher, Drake, Aram, Corinne, and Nia left on another. While Rachel was off trying to raise an army to attack Felrook, Jason would be seeking crucial information from an ancient seer. According to the oracle, both quests needed to succeed in order to defeat Maldor.

“That really is what we’re doing,” Rachel sighed. “We’re placing our lives in the hands of some old lady packed in clay.”

“I didn’t mean to insult her,” Jason amended. “Everyone says she was a true oracle. She seemed legit.”

“She’s the same lady who sent Galloran on the quest for the Word. Look how that ended up! He suffered so much based on a false hope!”

Jason shrugged. “Do you have a better idea?”

“Not really. But just because the oracle proposed a plan doesn’t necessarily make it perfect. One of her people tried to kill me! How’d she miss that? I’ve been working with the top acolytes. They’ve taught me some Edomic words, but I can already use the commands better than any of them. I wouldn’t trust most of them to foresee what I’m having for breakfast tomorrow. What if the oracle wasn’t as wise and magical as everybody thinks? Or what if she went crazy? Farfalee told us that Darian the Pyromancer lived ages ago. He should be dead. What if he is? And Felrook seems invincible. What if we’re all marching to our doom, thanks to the desperate ramblings of a dying crackpot?”

The possible validity of her doubts made Jason uncomfortable. “You’re probably just spooked because of last night.”

“This isn’t just about that,” Rachel said. “I’ve been getting more stressed ever since the oracle spoke. I wanted to believe her. She seemed confident and sincere. She gave us hope. I’ve tried to be positive and to focus on my training. But with us about to actually leave, I feel less certain than ever. I needed to tell someone.”

“And you picked me? I’m honored.”

“I was thinking maybe we could go talk to Galloran.”

“We? When did I sign on as a doubter?”

Rachel scowled skeptically. “You aren’t nervous?”

“Sure, I’m nervous! But that’s not the same as deciding it’s a mistake.” Jason paused. He wasn’t ready to do cartwheels of joy at the prospect of leaving Mianamon, but in spite of his insecurities he found he really did feel they were doing the right thing. That was something, at least. “You really want to bug Galloran with this on the day we’re supposed to leave?

“Maybe,” Rachel said uncomfortably. “I’d hate to be part of a train wreck just because I was too scared to speak up.”

“Getting attacked in the middle of the night would freak out anybody. I can understand how it could make you question the oracle.”

“That’s only part of it. I worry that we’re betting everything on this one opinion. Are we really sure she got it right?”

Jason glanced at a hooting gibbon as it triumphantly raised its quarterstaff in the air. “Tell me what you would tell him.”