Chasing the Prophecy
Page 101
“Ferrin,” he said loudly, spreading the scroll in front of him so he could use it as a reference, “if you are asleep, wake up. If you’re busy, stop to listen. Ferrin, I have the prophecy. It came straight from Darian, just like the oracle promised. We’ll send the eagles as well, but you should bring it straight to Galloran. Please be true. Please don’t betray us. Most of us died to get here. Corinne, Aram, and I are the only ones left. Farfalee might have lost her seed. We had to kill Groddic, who turned out to be the Wanderer.
“I’m rambling. Let me give you the message. I’m not totally sure what it means, but the mountain that Felrook is on was once called Mount Allowat. Darian thought that would be important. Also, he had a message for Rachel. Orruck already taught her what she needs to know. I guess it has to do with one of the Edomic commands he shared with her. It was something he invented to harm Zokar. That’s all I was told. I hope it makes sense to you guys. I’ll repeat the message again in a few minutes. I hope the battle is going well.”
There was no way for Jason to confirm whether Ferrin had heard, but he intended to repeat and repeat and repeat to be sure. The ear felt warm and was not bleeding, so he knew the connection remained intact and Ferrin was alive. According to Darian, all their hopes now rested with the displacer.
CHAPTER 28
THE LAST WIZARD
Rachel waited for hours in the room where the torivor had left her. The lurker had delivered her through the window after scaling a high wall. She had been braced for a swift introduction to Maldor, but instead she had been admitted to Felrook without any formal greeting.
The room was comfortable, with a generous bed, rich carpets, an impressive desk, multiple chairs, a wardrobe, a bookshelf, and a table in the corner complete with a covered tray of food. There was a separate room for bathing, and beyond that a water closet. But the locked door was solid iron, and the window had no ledge. No matter how comfortable, the room was a prison.
After nightfall Rachel had used Edomic to light some of the candles and lamps around the room. She ate all of the food on the table and was especially grateful for the fresh fruit. Opening her window, she looked out at the night. The view felt like she was gazing from a mountaintop, easily the highest point in the valley. Cool air swished into her room. She was in no mood to sleep.
Io was dead. The pain and guilt of it stewed deep inside. Not only had she probably made a massive mistake by accepting the invitation to train with Maldor, but she had gotten Io killed in the process. She had not known Maldor would send armed lurkers. And she hadn’t known Io would leap immediately to her defense against unbeatable foes. But even so, his death had been a direct result of her choice.
Rachel tried to shift the awful blame from herself to Maldor. The emperor had made her choice necessary in the first place. Without him none of this would be happening. He had sent the lurkers while she was with others instead of when she was alone. After what had happened to Drake, Rachel could not have imagined how she could hate Maldor any more, but somehow she was finding a way.
When the iron door opened, Rachel started, almost dropping her glass as she filled it with water from a pitcher. She had heard no footsteps to announce the visitor. Steadying herself, she took a sip and set the glass down.
A tall, spare man with close-set eyes and a narrow face waited in the doorway. He wore black robes overtopped by a gray mantle. Several guards stood behind him. “Good, you’re awake. His Excellency will see you now.”
“Is that an invitation or an order?” Rachel asked.
The man gave a faint shrug. “An invitation first.”
Mustering her will, Rachel wanted to order the officious man onto the floor. She could do it. Then she could give the guards distracting commands and race past them. But race where? She would be wiser to form a plan before she revealed all she could do with Edomic.
“Fine,” Rachel said, putting on her hat. She had held it tightly while riding the torivor. Now she arranged the veil to hide her face.
“Come with me,” the man invited.
“Who are you?” Rachel asked as she stepped out into the hall.
“A servant of little import,” the stranger replied. “An administrator of sorts. I am called Damak.”
“I know your name,” Rachel said. “You questioned Jason. You’re Copernum’s grandfather.”
“I serve Maldor according to my talents,” Damak replied. “Perhaps one day I will serve you as well. But not today.”
He led her down some steps, through guarded doors, along a hall, through another set of guarded doors, and around a couple of corners. Then they reached an iron door at the end of a hall. Damak used a key to open it.
“I have the girl,” he announced.
“Send her in,” a voice replied. Rachel recognized the voice from her dream, although it sounded a bit more ragged. “Alone. Wait without.”
“As you wish,” Damak replied. He motioned Rachel through the door, then closed it behind her.
Sumptuously furnished, the spacious apartment was gloomy. All the curtains were drawn. Scattered candles provided pockets of light. Her veil further darkened everything, but she kept it in place. A figure stirred in a cushioned chair across the room. Blankets covered the slumped form.
“Come closer,” Maldor beckoned. “Let me have a look at you.”
Rachel stepped toward the speaker.
“Close enough,” he said as she drew near his chair. “Turn around.”
She obeyed, rotating once.
“I approve of your apparel,” Maldor said. “Image matters more than many appreciate. I will have similar outfits tailored. Remove the veil.”
Rachel took off the entire hat, setting it on a dark-red sofa. Maldor leaned forward into the candlelight. She gasped. His features were the same as in her dream, but he looked ill. His skin was pale with a clammy sheen, his hair greasy, his face deeply lined, his eyes bloodshot, one more than the other. Pink drool leaked from one side of his mouth. Half of his face sagged limply, as if paralyzed.
“You find me alarming,” Maldor said. Not all of his mouth moved when he spoke.
“You look sick.”
“I suppose I must. Thank you for coming, Rachel.”
“It seemed to be my only choice,” she replied.
Maldor coughed several times into his fist. He held up a finger to indicate he would respond in a moment. After the fit ended, he dabbed his lips with a handkerchief. It came away bloody. He cleared his throat. “It was your only reasonable choice. You could have elected to die with your friends.”
“I’m rambling. Let me give you the message. I’m not totally sure what it means, but the mountain that Felrook is on was once called Mount Allowat. Darian thought that would be important. Also, he had a message for Rachel. Orruck already taught her what she needs to know. I guess it has to do with one of the Edomic commands he shared with her. It was something he invented to harm Zokar. That’s all I was told. I hope it makes sense to you guys. I’ll repeat the message again in a few minutes. I hope the battle is going well.”
There was no way for Jason to confirm whether Ferrin had heard, but he intended to repeat and repeat and repeat to be sure. The ear felt warm and was not bleeding, so he knew the connection remained intact and Ferrin was alive. According to Darian, all their hopes now rested with the displacer.
CHAPTER 28
THE LAST WIZARD
Rachel waited for hours in the room where the torivor had left her. The lurker had delivered her through the window after scaling a high wall. She had been braced for a swift introduction to Maldor, but instead she had been admitted to Felrook without any formal greeting.
The room was comfortable, with a generous bed, rich carpets, an impressive desk, multiple chairs, a wardrobe, a bookshelf, and a table in the corner complete with a covered tray of food. There was a separate room for bathing, and beyond that a water closet. But the locked door was solid iron, and the window had no ledge. No matter how comfortable, the room was a prison.
After nightfall Rachel had used Edomic to light some of the candles and lamps around the room. She ate all of the food on the table and was especially grateful for the fresh fruit. Opening her window, she looked out at the night. The view felt like she was gazing from a mountaintop, easily the highest point in the valley. Cool air swished into her room. She was in no mood to sleep.
Io was dead. The pain and guilt of it stewed deep inside. Not only had she probably made a massive mistake by accepting the invitation to train with Maldor, but she had gotten Io killed in the process. She had not known Maldor would send armed lurkers. And she hadn’t known Io would leap immediately to her defense against unbeatable foes. But even so, his death had been a direct result of her choice.
Rachel tried to shift the awful blame from herself to Maldor. The emperor had made her choice necessary in the first place. Without him none of this would be happening. He had sent the lurkers while she was with others instead of when she was alone. After what had happened to Drake, Rachel could not have imagined how she could hate Maldor any more, but somehow she was finding a way.
When the iron door opened, Rachel started, almost dropping her glass as she filled it with water from a pitcher. She had heard no footsteps to announce the visitor. Steadying herself, she took a sip and set the glass down.
A tall, spare man with close-set eyes and a narrow face waited in the doorway. He wore black robes overtopped by a gray mantle. Several guards stood behind him. “Good, you’re awake. His Excellency will see you now.”
“Is that an invitation or an order?” Rachel asked.
The man gave a faint shrug. “An invitation first.”
Mustering her will, Rachel wanted to order the officious man onto the floor. She could do it. Then she could give the guards distracting commands and race past them. But race where? She would be wiser to form a plan before she revealed all she could do with Edomic.
“Fine,” Rachel said, putting on her hat. She had held it tightly while riding the torivor. Now she arranged the veil to hide her face.
“Come with me,” the man invited.
“Who are you?” Rachel asked as she stepped out into the hall.
“A servant of little import,” the stranger replied. “An administrator of sorts. I am called Damak.”
“I know your name,” Rachel said. “You questioned Jason. You’re Copernum’s grandfather.”
“I serve Maldor according to my talents,” Damak replied. “Perhaps one day I will serve you as well. But not today.”
He led her down some steps, through guarded doors, along a hall, through another set of guarded doors, and around a couple of corners. Then they reached an iron door at the end of a hall. Damak used a key to open it.
“I have the girl,” he announced.
“Send her in,” a voice replied. Rachel recognized the voice from her dream, although it sounded a bit more ragged. “Alone. Wait without.”
“As you wish,” Damak replied. He motioned Rachel through the door, then closed it behind her.
Sumptuously furnished, the spacious apartment was gloomy. All the curtains were drawn. Scattered candles provided pockets of light. Her veil further darkened everything, but she kept it in place. A figure stirred in a cushioned chair across the room. Blankets covered the slumped form.
“Come closer,” Maldor beckoned. “Let me have a look at you.”
Rachel stepped toward the speaker.
“Close enough,” he said as she drew near his chair. “Turn around.”
She obeyed, rotating once.
“I approve of your apparel,” Maldor said. “Image matters more than many appreciate. I will have similar outfits tailored. Remove the veil.”
Rachel took off the entire hat, setting it on a dark-red sofa. Maldor leaned forward into the candlelight. She gasped. His features were the same as in her dream, but he looked ill. His skin was pale with a clammy sheen, his hair greasy, his face deeply lined, his eyes bloodshot, one more than the other. Pink drool leaked from one side of his mouth. Half of his face sagged limply, as if paralyzed.
“You find me alarming,” Maldor said. Not all of his mouth moved when he spoke.
“You look sick.”
“I suppose I must. Thank you for coming, Rachel.”
“It seemed to be my only choice,” she replied.
Maldor coughed several times into his fist. He held up a finger to indicate he would respond in a moment. After the fit ended, he dabbed his lips with a handkerchief. It came away bloody. He cleared his throat. “It was your only reasonable choice. You could have elected to die with your friends.”
