Chasing the Prophecy
Page 117
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Maldor showed no sign of escaping. Blows rained down without interruption. The emperor didn’t even glance her way.
Lurkers flooded from the chamber. Three stopped beside Rachel.
Well done, one of them conveyed.
Likewise, Rachel answered, struggling to regain her composure. What will happen to Maldor?
The attacker will not relent, the lurker pledged. The defensive effort is taxing Maldor. He cannot hold out indefinitely. Escape is unlikely.
You’ll fulfill the rest of our agreement? Rachel checked.
We cannot lie, the lurker responded.
Then take me to Galloran.
CHAPTER 35
SACRIFICE
Tark surfaced inside the mine, gasping desperately. Luminous seaweed in hand, he crawled out of the water, his hair and pants dripping. He wore no shirt or shoes. He lay on his back, drinking in the earthy air. The swim had tested him to his limits.
Thanks to Ferrin, Tark had known exactly where to find the entrance to the mine and how far he would need to swim in order to reach the ancient air trapped inside. The entrance had been a long way down. Even with weights to aid his dive, the descent had consumed an alarming amount of time, the pressure building as he sank. Rocks clogged the entrance, but he had stroked through the gap Ferrin had made. For twenty feet it had been tight. Afterward, his lungs complaining, he had advanced along the underwater excavation until the tunnel finally elbowed upward and he had emerged here.
Not many men could have survived that swim. Ferrin had warned that it would be challenging, and the displacer had not been wrong. Tark sat up. His task was far from complete. All of Lyrian was counting on him.
By the light of his seaweed Tark saw the tools Ferrin had left. Multiple pickaxes, pry bars of varying length, rope, spare seaweed, and half a dozen orantium spheres, including one of the large gatecrashers. Ferrin had rehearsed the route that would take him to where the mine had been sealed off. The information had been shared not long before Ferrin was taken into custody.
Tark had informed Galloran how Naman had arrested Ferrin, but by the time Galloran confronted the commander of the seedfolk, the displacer had already quietly escaped. Ferrin had not been spotted since.
But Tark could not afford to dwell on that now. Led by Galloran, the retreat was already underway. Tark had to keep moving. The timing was crucial. According to Ferrin, the extensive tunnels should hold plenty of breathable air. The timing concerns involved the placement of Maldor’s forces. Trying to warm himself, Tark briskly rubbed his arms. If he could hurry and detonate the vein of orantium while the vast host was massing around Felrook, the war might realistically end with a single blow.
Tark began gathering supplies.
Farther along the tunnel, a glow appeared beyond the reach of Tark’s light. Ferrin held a newly lit length of seaweed in one hand and a large crossbow in the other. The crossbow was casually aimed at Tark.
“Ferrin?” Tark asked.
“Hello.” He was frowning, his voice neutral. He looked weary and disheveled.
Tark had never seen Ferrin disheveled.
Tark’s hand slid toward his knife.
“Don’t touch that knife,” Ferrin warned. “My finger is quicker than your arm.” The displacer was missing his nose.
“What is this?” Tark asked, slowly raising both hands.
“What does it look like?” Ferrin asked. “After all I did, Naman arrested me.”
Tark winced. “I know. Galloran was upset. He tried to intervene, but you were already gone.”
“I believe he would have tried. But the time had come to take matters into my own hands. My captors left me a small opportunity to escape, and I took it. The experience served as a sobering reminder. If you detonate that vein of orantium, the Amar Kabal win. And the displacers lose. Forever.”
Tark nodded. “You knew that from the start.”
“But what were the chances we would actually succeed? Did you expect it?”
“I don’t know.”
“I didn’t. Not really. But here you are, about to spill your blood down in the bowels of the earth to create a flash of orantium like the world has never known. I failed to give Esmira the proper credit.”
“Seems she had a gift,” Tark agreed. He glanced from the crossbow to Ferrin’s eye. “Have you been toying with us all along?”
“I’m not sure what I’ve been doing,” Ferrin replied. “I’ve been open about that with those who have bothered to ask. I’m not sure how I expected this to end. I certainly never thought I would find myself in a position to receive an imperial pardon.”
“You really think Maldor would pardon you?”
“Naman seemed to think so,” Ferrin said wryly. “The prospect once seemed impossible. I had crossed too many lines, burned too many bridges. But what if I were able to warn the emperor that Felrook had unwittingly been constructed on top of a mountain full of explosives? What if I could singlehandedly save his armies and his life? That would probably do the job.”
“I can’t believe this,” Tark sighed. Everyone was counting on him. He could not fail! His mind frantically searched for a workable strategy. Ferrin would not miss with the crossbow. Even without it, Tark knew how well the displacer could fight.
Ferrin smirked. “It’s amazing that this fortress didn’t explode long ago. They could have tunneled into the orantium when digging the dungeons. The dungeons of Felrook are deep. A little deeper, and they might have had quite a surprise.”
“You swore to uphold our cause,” Tark said. “You swore to Galloran and Jason and Rachel.”
“I did,” Ferrin admitted. “Naturally, they all expected me to lie. It’s what displacers do. Thanks to Naman, I’ve enjoyed some time alone to consider a new plan. Want the essentials? First, I shoot you. Then I inform Maldor that his fortress is built atop a mother lode of orantium. He wipes out the forces fleeing into the mountains, then chooses a new stronghold from which to rule for a thousand years. The smug seedmen fall. And I get pardoned. Nothing short of service this crucial would earn Maldor’s forgiveness, but I expect this would prove more than sufficient.”
“Maybe,” Tark said, hoping to plant doubt.
“When I spoke with the oracle, she told me that before the end I would have the chance to decide the outcome. I didn’t expect the opportunity to be so blatant. Perhaps neither did she.”
“Don’t do it,” Tark said. “Galloran still has part of your neck.”
“I appreciate the concern,” Ferrin laughed. “I’m resourceful. I could get to Maldor before Galloran had any inkling of my betrayal. Some quick emergency graftings, and I would be fine.”
Lurkers flooded from the chamber. Three stopped beside Rachel.
Well done, one of them conveyed.
Likewise, Rachel answered, struggling to regain her composure. What will happen to Maldor?
The attacker will not relent, the lurker pledged. The defensive effort is taxing Maldor. He cannot hold out indefinitely. Escape is unlikely.
You’ll fulfill the rest of our agreement? Rachel checked.
We cannot lie, the lurker responded.
Then take me to Galloran.
CHAPTER 35
SACRIFICE
Tark surfaced inside the mine, gasping desperately. Luminous seaweed in hand, he crawled out of the water, his hair and pants dripping. He wore no shirt or shoes. He lay on his back, drinking in the earthy air. The swim had tested him to his limits.
Thanks to Ferrin, Tark had known exactly where to find the entrance to the mine and how far he would need to swim in order to reach the ancient air trapped inside. The entrance had been a long way down. Even with weights to aid his dive, the descent had consumed an alarming amount of time, the pressure building as he sank. Rocks clogged the entrance, but he had stroked through the gap Ferrin had made. For twenty feet it had been tight. Afterward, his lungs complaining, he had advanced along the underwater excavation until the tunnel finally elbowed upward and he had emerged here.
Not many men could have survived that swim. Ferrin had warned that it would be challenging, and the displacer had not been wrong. Tark sat up. His task was far from complete. All of Lyrian was counting on him.
By the light of his seaweed Tark saw the tools Ferrin had left. Multiple pickaxes, pry bars of varying length, rope, spare seaweed, and half a dozen orantium spheres, including one of the large gatecrashers. Ferrin had rehearsed the route that would take him to where the mine had been sealed off. The information had been shared not long before Ferrin was taken into custody.
Tark had informed Galloran how Naman had arrested Ferrin, but by the time Galloran confronted the commander of the seedfolk, the displacer had already quietly escaped. Ferrin had not been spotted since.
But Tark could not afford to dwell on that now. Led by Galloran, the retreat was already underway. Tark had to keep moving. The timing was crucial. According to Ferrin, the extensive tunnels should hold plenty of breathable air. The timing concerns involved the placement of Maldor’s forces. Trying to warm himself, Tark briskly rubbed his arms. If he could hurry and detonate the vein of orantium while the vast host was massing around Felrook, the war might realistically end with a single blow.
Tark began gathering supplies.
Farther along the tunnel, a glow appeared beyond the reach of Tark’s light. Ferrin held a newly lit length of seaweed in one hand and a large crossbow in the other. The crossbow was casually aimed at Tark.
“Ferrin?” Tark asked.
“Hello.” He was frowning, his voice neutral. He looked weary and disheveled.
Tark had never seen Ferrin disheveled.
Tark’s hand slid toward his knife.
“Don’t touch that knife,” Ferrin warned. “My finger is quicker than your arm.” The displacer was missing his nose.
“What is this?” Tark asked, slowly raising both hands.
“What does it look like?” Ferrin asked. “After all I did, Naman arrested me.”
Tark winced. “I know. Galloran was upset. He tried to intervene, but you were already gone.”
“I believe he would have tried. But the time had come to take matters into my own hands. My captors left me a small opportunity to escape, and I took it. The experience served as a sobering reminder. If you detonate that vein of orantium, the Amar Kabal win. And the displacers lose. Forever.”
Tark nodded. “You knew that from the start.”
“But what were the chances we would actually succeed? Did you expect it?”
“I don’t know.”
“I didn’t. Not really. But here you are, about to spill your blood down in the bowels of the earth to create a flash of orantium like the world has never known. I failed to give Esmira the proper credit.”
“Seems she had a gift,” Tark agreed. He glanced from the crossbow to Ferrin’s eye. “Have you been toying with us all along?”
“I’m not sure what I’ve been doing,” Ferrin replied. “I’ve been open about that with those who have bothered to ask. I’m not sure how I expected this to end. I certainly never thought I would find myself in a position to receive an imperial pardon.”
“You really think Maldor would pardon you?”
“Naman seemed to think so,” Ferrin said wryly. “The prospect once seemed impossible. I had crossed too many lines, burned too many bridges. But what if I were able to warn the emperor that Felrook had unwittingly been constructed on top of a mountain full of explosives? What if I could singlehandedly save his armies and his life? That would probably do the job.”
“I can’t believe this,” Tark sighed. Everyone was counting on him. He could not fail! His mind frantically searched for a workable strategy. Ferrin would not miss with the crossbow. Even without it, Tark knew how well the displacer could fight.
Ferrin smirked. “It’s amazing that this fortress didn’t explode long ago. They could have tunneled into the orantium when digging the dungeons. The dungeons of Felrook are deep. A little deeper, and they might have had quite a surprise.”
“You swore to uphold our cause,” Tark said. “You swore to Galloran and Jason and Rachel.”
“I did,” Ferrin admitted. “Naturally, they all expected me to lie. It’s what displacers do. Thanks to Naman, I’ve enjoyed some time alone to consider a new plan. Want the essentials? First, I shoot you. Then I inform Maldor that his fortress is built atop a mother lode of orantium. He wipes out the forces fleeing into the mountains, then chooses a new stronghold from which to rule for a thousand years. The smug seedmen fall. And I get pardoned. Nothing short of service this crucial would earn Maldor’s forgiveness, but I expect this would prove more than sufficient.”
“Maybe,” Tark said, hoping to plant doubt.
“When I spoke with the oracle, she told me that before the end I would have the chance to decide the outcome. I didn’t expect the opportunity to be so blatant. Perhaps neither did she.”
“Don’t do it,” Tark said. “Galloran still has part of your neck.”
“I appreciate the concern,” Ferrin laughed. “I’m resourceful. I could get to Maldor before Galloran had any inkling of my betrayal. Some quick emergency graftings, and I would be fine.”
