Chasing the Prophecy

By noon the pursuing riders came into view at the edge of the plain behind them. The intervening steam made the tiny forms shimmer. Thankfully, Jasher had overestimated their numbers. Unfortunately, they were still close to two dozen.

After milling about at the edge of the plain for several minutes, the riders opted to remain mounted and came cantering toward them. Looking back at the oncoming riders made their progress since dawn feel pathetic.

Jason resisted the urge to run. At this point it wouldn’t do any good. He couldn’t outrace a horse.

“We have no cover,” Aram pointed out. “If they reach us, they’ll ride us down.”

“Fan out,” Jasher said. “Jason, keep your orantium handy. Try to throw it in front of a tight group of riders. Maybe we can help the ground to give. Farfalee, Nia, ready your bows.”

They spread out, facing their enemies. Jasher held his torivorian sword in one hand and his orantium globe in the other. Jason did likewise. The moisture in the air made the globe feel slippery.

The horses were charging hard. There were so many! At least the orantium gave Jason some hope of defending himself and his friends. He realized that he would have to throw his globe as far as he could or else he would risk sending his entire group into the boiling lake. He would have to time it just right to take out the maximum number of riders.

Before long the pursuers had come half the distance from the edge of the plain. Water sprayed up as hoofs drummed across the steaming ground. The high sun made small shadows beneath them.

Jason’s mouth was dry. How was he supposed to stand against a bunch of charging horsemen? Farfalee might drop a few riders with her bow. He supposed he would have to try to dodge and slash with his sword as best he could. Hoofs and weaponry would be coming at him all at once. How would he avoid so many threats? Would any of them manage to stand against such a brutal onslaught? This could be the end. Behind the riders, beyond the plain, Jason saw a geyser erupting.

And then suddenly three of the lead riders disappeared, dropping out of view without warning, flaky fragments of stone flipping up as water splashed high. Other riders sought to slow or swerve, but within seconds a huge section of ground had collapsed, leaving fewer than ten riders on the surface of the plain.

For a long moment the broken area was a steamy stew of horse heads and flailing arms, but the tumult grew still before long. Dismounting, the remaining pursuers abandoned their horses and proceeded on foot, giving the newly created pool a wide berth.

Jason glanced over at Corinne. She looked relieved and a little horrified. Her eyes met his.

“That got my heart rate up,” Jason confessed.

She sheathed her sword. “I kept thinking, ‘Of course they won’t fall; of course this will be the one time twenty horses gallop across this fragile plain without making a single crack.’ ”

Aram watched through the spyglass, grinning like a child at the circus. “Eight remain.”

“I can finish eight with my bow once they come within range,” Farfalee said. “They lack cover, and I have plenty of arrows. The rest of you go on ahead.”

“You shouldn’t stay back alone,” Jasher said. “What if you lose your seed?”

“I’ll stay with her,” Nia offered. “I have a bow as well.”

Jasher nodded. “Wait until they are well within range or they will fall back out of reach. We’ll await you at the far side of the plain. Our departure should lure them forward faster.”

After wiping the lens of the spyglass on his sleeve, Aram took another look. “None are heavily armored. For Farfalee, filling them with arrows will be like a holiday exhibition.”

“I might hit one too,” Nia pointed out.

“Anything is possible,” Aram replied.

Nia swatted him, brandishing his sword. “Don’t forget who totes this while the sun is out!”

“I meant no insult,” Aram said. “I’ve just never seen anyone shoot like Farfalee.”

Jasher led all of them but Farfalee and Nia single file. Jason kept peering over his shoulder, watching for the soldiers to come within range. They all stopped when Farfalee and Nia started shooting. The exhibition did not take long.

Farfalee and Nia caught up to the others by late afternoon.

“I hit two,” Nia reported. “I also missed twice, but one of my hits was fatal.”

“I stand corrected about your marksmanship,” Aram said. Raising his voice, he called ahead to Jasher. “Any chance of picking up the pace? This Polished Plain is one of the few places where little Aram has a definite advantage.”

“We’ll make it by sundown,” Jasher promised.

They crept onward. The lack of sleep from the night before was catching up with Jason. The pace was not quick, but it was relentless, and the constant danger of the ground giving way kept him tense. They ate while walking. At one point Jasher’s foot broke the surface, but he managed to skip backward before the crust shattered beneath him. In the end Jasher barely managed to keep his promise. Aram grew large perhaps ten minutes after leaving the Polished Plain behind.

The next day they reached landmarks more quickly. They sighted the Stepping-Stones—seven staggered columns of rock that increased in height—early in the day, and then left them behind by the afternoon.

The Giant’s Bathhouse was a naturally terraced mesa with overflowing pools at various levels. The spilling water left behind colorful mineral deposits—elaborate draperies that gave the mesa the appearance of a huge cake dripping with frosting. Rolling clouds of steam billowed from a gaping cave at the base of the fanciful formation.

They halted for the night not far beyond the Giant’s Bathhouse. Jasher informed them that in the morning it would only take a few hours to reach the Scalding Caverns. Once through the caverns they would follow the Narrow Way to the last abode of Darian the Seer.

“Do you think this will really be the right place?” Jason asked Corinne as they prepared to bed down. “Do you think we’ll find Darian?”

“I expect so,” she replied. “I can’t imagine there was other information at the library that the oracle would have wanted us to follow. Having Farfalee along to read that Petruscan scroll had to be by design.”

“I hope so,” Jason said. “If we’re wrong, I guess there isn’t much we can do about it. The instructions make it sound like I should enter alone.”

“Alone and unarmed,” Jasher clarified. “The prophecy named you as the person who needed to collect the information from Darian. The rest of us are here to get you to your destination.”