Chasing the Prophecy

“Speed could save us,” Jasher whispered, loud enough to be heard over the sloshing oars and Aram’s jingling armor. “We nab horses and we get out of town.”

As the Valiant approached the dock, the drinling crew began launching fiery pitch at the schooner and the piers. By the time the interceptor collided with the opposite side of the schooner’s pier, flames were leaping from some of the dockside buildings and spreading across both piers. Fire climbed the schooner’s sails and blossomed aboard the Valiant as well.

The launch landed on a muddy little beach near a modest inlet sheltering smaller vessels. Farfalee sprang out first, a pack on her back, an arrow set to her bowstring. Alarm bells rang. Voices hollered. Figures could be seen running to the flaming docks, as well as disembarking from the Valiant. The Intrepid led the charge as the imperial flotilla sailed for the piers, driven by the rising wind.

Jason slung a pack onto his back, picked up his titan-crab shield, and stepped out of the launch and onto firm mud. Jasher and Aram held their swords ready, so Jason drew his as well, the blade silver-white in the moonlight. Positioned at the right angle, the torivorian metal picked up orange highlights from the burning dock.

“Heg told me the way to the stable,” Zoo said. “Stay close.”

Jason was glad that somebody knew where they were going. From his current position he could see no evidence of horses or a stable. Away from the dock most of the buildings were lost in shadow. A few had soft firelight or luminous kelp glowing behind shuttered windows.

As the group trotted away from the launch, Jason questioned whether he should hold the orantium sphere ready instead of his shield. He decided that he could drop the shield and reach the sphere easily enough if needed. The sphere would not block arrows. Jason had practiced fighting with a shield at Mianamon but had spent more time with only a sword in his hand.

Zoo led them between buildings, keeping to the shadows wherever possible. Disorderly clusters of people ran toward the waterfront, some only half dressed, a few in uniforms. Most were too focused on the dockside fire to notice anything else, but as the group rounded a corner, a pair of uniformed men down the road paused, looking their way.

“Who goes there?” one of them asked, drawing a sword.

Farfalee answered with an arrow. As the other ran for cover, she dropped him as well.

Running lightly, Zoo led them down a side street. At the next corner Zoo halted, then peeked her head around slowly. “We found it,” she whispered. “There’s a guard outside with a crossbow.”

Jason was impressed with how clearly Zoo was speaking English now. The drinlings learned so fast.

Farfalee pulled an arrow to her cheek, stepped around the corner, and released. She nocked and released a second shot in a swift motion, then readied a third.

They sped to the large stable, a long wooden building with a gently sloped roof. From inside they heard horses stamping and whinnying. One seemed to almost scream. Zoo collected the fallen guard’s crossbow.

Thag and Aram yanked the big doors open. The stable contained sixteen stalls on each side. Three soldiers were working their way down the stalls, slaughtering the horses. They had started at the far end and only had a few stalls left.

The soldiers looked surprised as the doors opened. Thag and Aram closed swiftly. One soldier charged forward. The other two backed away, their dripping weapons raised defensively.

Aram sidestepped a swing and clubbed the attacker with the flat of his blade. The soldier rebounded off the side of a stall and flopped to the floor. Racing past Aram, Thag engaged the next soldier, landing a crushing blow with his mace. The final soldier went down with an arrow through him. Aram stomped a heavy boot on the chest of the man he had toppled. “Where can we find more horses?”

“Gone,” the man chuckled bleakly. “We set loose the steeds in the corral. I yield, by the way, if that matters.”

Jason glanced around the stable. Only three horses remained standing.

“Three mounts,” Jasher spat. “We have three horses.”

A shadowy figure slipped through the door at the far end of the barn. Farfalee drew an arrow to her cheek, but hesitated. Zoo loosed a quarrel from her captured crossbow.

The figure caught the quarrel in one hand and rushed forward with inhuman speed. The lurker plunged the quarrel into Zoo, then stood back calmly.

Jason stared warily at the torivor. It stood so near, unmoving. His thoughts turned to Drake, and he felt queasy. At least the lurker had no swords. Still, what were they supposed to do now?

Thag approached the lurker from behind, mace raised.

“No,” Aram ordered. “We need you.” Aram looked down at the man beneath his boot. “How many horses did you scatter?”

Suddenly unwilling to speak, the man glanced at the lurker. The dark figure raised both arms. The horses in the stalls began to whicker and stamp. One reared.

Corinne raced at the lurker. Farfalee and Jasher both moved to stop her, but they did not react in time. Corinne held the tip of her sword level with the dark figure’s chest. “Enough!” she cried angrily. “You’ve done enough!”

The torivor lowered its arms and retreated before her, shuffling back as she stalked forward. The tip of her sword shifted left at the same time as the lurker attempted to dodge left, then back to the right an instant before it skipped to the right. She kept advancing. It kept retreating.

Jason held his breath and watched in horror. It was as if Corinne had stepped in front of a speeding train. Her destruction was inevitable. Sure, a torivorian blade could injure a torivor. But you had to hit it. Now that Corinne had attacked, she had opened the door for the lurker to retaliate. Jason couldn’t get thoughts of Drake out of his head. The idea of Corinne sharing a similar fate was too much. If anything, Jason would have wanted to step in front of a lurker to protect her, not the other way around! He knew too well how even an unarmed torivor could wreak havoc against opponents.

Raising his sword, Jason strode forward. Maybe if he could slip past Corinne, he could distract the torivor enough for Corinne to make a move. Jasher’s hand clamped down on his shoulder firm enough to restrain him. “Too late,” Jasher murmured. “The way is too narrow. This is up to her now.”

Jason could see that Jasher was right. If he tried to dodge past her, he’d probably just end up distracting her and getting them both killed. The chance to help her had passed. He didn’t resist the seedman’s grasp. The sword in his hand made him feel like a poser. Jason wished he could rewind time. Nobody should attack an unarmed lurker! Why hadn’t somebody tackled her? Why hadn’t he tackled her?