Chasing the Prophecy

“You’re not Heg,” Del accused. “You can’t be. What’s going on?”

“Correct,” Heg said with a smile. “I have been known by many names. Heg is the most recent. The drinling fought valiantly, by the way, but perished back at Gulba alongside his brethren.” Heg’s face suddenly transformed, and with it his voice. It was suddenly the face of Groddic. “In recent years I have most frequently been known as Groddic.”

Jason could hardly believe his eyes. He stood upright, his hand near his sword. He glanced at the others, trying to gauge how they wanted to deal with this.

“The Wanderer,” Jasher growled. “You’re Zokar’s shape-shifter!”

“I have been known by those names as well,” the Wanderer admitted. “None who associate those names with me ever live to tell the tale.”

“Groddic was the Wanderer all along?” Aram asked.

“Maldor was the only man alive to know my true identity,” the Wanderer said. “We became partners long ago. Out of necessity I get no credit, but I was instrumental in his rise to power. He brings me in to fix his messiest problems. Like this one.”

“We killed you,” Nia said weakly.

The Wanderer shook his head. “Hard to slay a shape-shifter. I can heal my wounds too quickly, rearrange my insides. I pretended to succumb to my injuries back at Gulba. The decision could have gone either way. I knew I could probably take you. I stayed down because you had horses. Had I revealed myself, some of you might have escaped and spoiled my secret. I suspected a better opportunity would come. And here we are.”

“You captured the eagle,” Corinne accused, her teeth no longer chattering.

The Wanderer grinned. “I became a jungle condor, a bird much larger than any eagle. I can reshape myself into any living thing I have touched. I have lived a long time, sampled many life-forms. Including Heg.”

Jason thought about his orantium sphere. He couldn’t throw it while the Wanderer held Farfalee’s seed. He pulled out his sword. Whatever happened, he needed to be ready.

“Why are we talking?” Jasher asked. “Have you an offer?”

“That depends what the amar of your wife is worth,” the Wanderer said casually. Keeping the knifepoint near the seed, he examined it speculatively. “I have never disposed of a sitting member of the Conclave.”

“If you harm her amar, you will face the eternal wrath of my people,” Jasher threatened.

“I have destroyed more than twenty amars,” the Wanderer bragged. “There can be no vengeance against secret deeds.”

“I cannot guess what terms you could possibly offer,” Jasher said.

“Her seed is the only concession I can grant,” the Wanderer said. “All Farfalee knew before she was cut off from her senses was that Heg stabbed her. She does not know it was the Wanderer. She did not know that Heg had any connection to Groddic. If you volunteer your amar to me, Jasher, I swear to safely plant her seed.”

“What about the others?” Jasher asked.

“The others know my identity. They must die. But your wife could live. If you fight me, she dies along with the rest of you. Make your choice.”

Jason held his breath, wondering which way Jasher would lean.

“I don’t trust you to keep your word,” Jasher said.

“I can alter my face at will,” the Wanderer said. “My only lasting identity is my honor. I am not lying. Knowing as little as your wife does, what does it cost me to spare her? I will keep her seed safe until this war is over, and then she will be planted. Who knows? She might emerge as the last of your people.”

“How do you propose to claim my amar?” Jasher asked.

“I won’t let you near me,” the Wanderer said. “Let Del execute you and toss me your seed.”

“I would give all my lives for her,” Jasher said. “But to do so now would be folly.”

The seedman flung a knife and rushed forward, his torivorian blade held high. The Wanderer dodged the thrown dagger and plunged his blade into the seed. Jason felt as if the blade had entered his own body. Casting the seed aside, the Wanderer barely had time to draw Heg’s sword before Jasher reached him.

The blades clashed furiously. Del and Nia followed Jasher, but hung back. The narrowness of the island made it hard for more than one attacker to engage the Wanderer unless they did so from the water.

Jason held his orantium globe ready, but there was no way to harm the Wanderer with Jasher in the way. He could hardly believe the Wanderer had stabbed the seed. That simple act had permanently extinguished lifetimes of existence. Another of his friends had fallen.

The Wanderer tried to stab Jasher with his dagger and lost his hand in the attempt. The severed hand dissolved into ashen dust. Jasher pressed a graceful attack, but the Wanderer defended himself with alarming skill. With a shake of his damaged arm, a new hand replaced the lost one.

“Watch the combat for an opening,” Aram whispered to Jason. “Groddic stands between us and the waterfall, but while we keep him busy, you could make a run for it. Only one of us needs to survive.”

“He can turn into anything he wants,” Jason said. “He’d catch me before I went far, whether or not he had to interrupt the fight. We have to beat him.”

“Are you about to grow?” Corinne asked Aram.

“Another minute or two,” Aram replied, stripping off his clothes. “I should get my armor ready.”

Jasher stabbed the Wanderer through the chest, the blade sinking deep, but had to lunge back to avoid a counterstroke. The fight went on. The Wanderer appeared indifferent to the injury.

“We have to cut him to pieces!” Jasher yelled. “No other wound will harm him.”

“Many have tried,” the Wanderer boasted with a laugh. “I’ve lost minor portions of myself over the years. More than enough remains to punish the lot of you.”

Del and Nia had splashed into the river to get behind the Wanderer, but the shape-shifter fell back to the tip of the island, preventing them from attacking on dry ground. To further complicate matters, the Wanderer sprouted a heavy tail with a bony bulge at the end and used it to threaten the drinlings. Nia hit the bony knob with her sword, and the weapon flew from her hands.

“He has eyes in the back of his head!” Del exclaimed. “Literally!”

“I’m just getting started,” the Wanderer laughed.

With a muffled groan Aram started to grow.