Chasing the Prophecy
Page 8
“I heard you were looking for me,” Jason replied.
“Can we take a walk?”
Jason looked to Rachel.
“Go ahead,” she said. “I have some things to gather. I’ll see you when we meet up to leave.” She started down a nearby flight of stairs.
Ferrin led Jason to a high terrace that wrapped around the outside of the temple. They walked beside a waist-high parapet, the jungle spread out below them. Under the direct sunlight, the temperature climbed from uncomfortably warm to hot. The humid smell of vegetation filled Jason’s nostrils. “Seems to be getting hotter every day.”
“Spring will do that,” Ferrin replied. “Winter is ending.”
“What’s up?”
Ferrin winced. “We’re about to go our separate ways.”
“I know. Part of me never wanted this day to come. It’s been nice to spend some time without death and destruction around every corner.”
“It’s been there waiting all along. But I know what you mean. Mianamon has provided a welcome season of relief. I’ve enjoyed the chance to observe your nature when you’re not under duress.”
“That makes me feel like the subject of an experiment.”
Ferrin shrugged. “If you were, the experiment was a success. You’re a good person, Jason. A true friend.”
Jason felt unsure how to respond. He had never heard Ferrin give compliments lightly. “Thanks. You are too. You’ll keep an eye on Rachel?”
“The one I have left,” he said, tapping his eye patch. “Do you realize what awaits you at the Celestine Library?”
“I’ve heard the basics. Zokar placed a guardian there.”
“Right. I went over this with Galloran and Farfalee, and I know they’ve spoken with you, but I want to make sure you fully understand. Zokar was obsessed with the torivors. Rightfully so—they’re probably the most powerful beings in Lyrian. He spent years attempting to create a race of similar prowess. The results became known as his Abominations.”
“And one of them protects the library.”
“Zokar never felt he had perfected his Abominations. There were three, each unique, each less governable than he desired. He never turned them into races because he feared they would usurp his power. One was a sinister being with an extraordinary gift for invading thoughts and dreams. It was dubbed the Visitor, and Zokar eventually destroyed it. Some historians cite evidence that Zokar was never the same after besting the Visitor, and argue that the confrontation may have permanently disrupted his sanity.”
“I wish I were an evil wizard,” Jason complained. “They have all the fun.”
“The second creation was a shape-shifter. It was called the Wanderer. Zokar tried to eliminate it, but the shape-shifter escaped and vanished. None know its fate.”
“And the third?”
“It was known as the Maumet. In form it was like a torivor, but considerably larger. The Maumet can transform itself into any material it touches. Zokar successfully imprisoned the Maumet on Windbreak Island.”
“The same island as the Celestine Library.”
“Correct. None have entered the library since that time. Many have tried. Eldrin was not one of them.”
Jason frowned. “But after Eldrin defeated Zokar, didn’t he go on a rampage destroying books?”
“Good memory,” Ferrin approved. “Eldrin decided to rid Lyrian of wizardry, and sought to destroy all the books that taught Edomic. Of the great storehouses of learning, only the Celestine Library remained untouched. Even the legendary Eldrin chose not to confront the Maumet. What does that tell you?”
“The Maumet is tough.”
“It intimidated the most powerful wizard Lyrian has known. It got between him and his mission, and he let it stay there.”
“He might have figured the Maumet would be able to guard that information forever,” Jason said.
“All indications have shown that he would have been correct,” Ferrin said. “Maldor has sent several teams to retrieve information from the Celestine Library. None have succeeded. I’ve heard that the only way to harm the Maumet is to chip off pieces. Sort of the opposite of me.” He casually detached one hand at the wrist, flipped it into the air, then caught it on the stump at the end of his forearm. The hand fused seamlessly back into place.
“So if we chop off an arm, the arm is gone.”
“Supposedly, the Maumet never regenerates lost material. But this is all speculative. Nobody has ever severed a limb. To my knowledge nobody has ever seriously harmed it.”
Jason stared out over the steaming jungle. “And we need to find a way.”
“The oracle tasked Galloran with regaining control of Trensicourt, raising an army, and mounting a direct assault on the emperor’s impenetrable stronghold. If you ask me, Galloran has the easy job.”
“Rachel seems pretty nervous,” Jason said. “She was worried the oracle might have been wrong.”
“I don’t think the oracle was wrong.”
“No?”
“No. She was authentic. I expect that her prediction was valid. Remember, she wasn’t promising victory. She was looking for any possible route to victory, no matter how faint. I’m sure if you can somehow access the library, there is a chance of finding a way to contact Darian the Seer, even though he is supposed to be dead. Those strong enough in Edomic have found methods to achieve astonishing life spans. And it is conceivable that the famed pyromancer could provide some arcane information that might help an attack on Felrook succeed. I can’t begin to imagine what that information could be. And I doubt that any knowledge could make such a victory likely.”
“This isn’t sounding good,” Jason said, dread pooling in the pit of his stomach.
“We asked if, among all the possible futures, there might be a one-in-a-billion chance of turning the tide and dethroning Maldor. I’m sure the oracle found what Galloran sought: a theoretically possible, but highly unlikely, path to victory.”
Jason rubbed his wrist anxiously. “In other words, we won’t just probably fail—we’ll almost certainly fail. You’re still willing to go along with it?”
“If Maldor ever apprehends me, my fate is certain. Just like you and Galloran and the Amar Kabal, I’d take a minuscule chance at victory over certain doom. If we fail, I can still try to jump ship and hide in the wilderness for the rest of my life, which is my only other current option.”
“Can we take a walk?”
Jason looked to Rachel.
“Go ahead,” she said. “I have some things to gather. I’ll see you when we meet up to leave.” She started down a nearby flight of stairs.
Ferrin led Jason to a high terrace that wrapped around the outside of the temple. They walked beside a waist-high parapet, the jungle spread out below them. Under the direct sunlight, the temperature climbed from uncomfortably warm to hot. The humid smell of vegetation filled Jason’s nostrils. “Seems to be getting hotter every day.”
“Spring will do that,” Ferrin replied. “Winter is ending.”
“What’s up?”
Ferrin winced. “We’re about to go our separate ways.”
“I know. Part of me never wanted this day to come. It’s been nice to spend some time without death and destruction around every corner.”
“It’s been there waiting all along. But I know what you mean. Mianamon has provided a welcome season of relief. I’ve enjoyed the chance to observe your nature when you’re not under duress.”
“That makes me feel like the subject of an experiment.”
Ferrin shrugged. “If you were, the experiment was a success. You’re a good person, Jason. A true friend.”
Jason felt unsure how to respond. He had never heard Ferrin give compliments lightly. “Thanks. You are too. You’ll keep an eye on Rachel?”
“The one I have left,” he said, tapping his eye patch. “Do you realize what awaits you at the Celestine Library?”
“I’ve heard the basics. Zokar placed a guardian there.”
“Right. I went over this with Galloran and Farfalee, and I know they’ve spoken with you, but I want to make sure you fully understand. Zokar was obsessed with the torivors. Rightfully so—they’re probably the most powerful beings in Lyrian. He spent years attempting to create a race of similar prowess. The results became known as his Abominations.”
“And one of them protects the library.”
“Zokar never felt he had perfected his Abominations. There were three, each unique, each less governable than he desired. He never turned them into races because he feared they would usurp his power. One was a sinister being with an extraordinary gift for invading thoughts and dreams. It was dubbed the Visitor, and Zokar eventually destroyed it. Some historians cite evidence that Zokar was never the same after besting the Visitor, and argue that the confrontation may have permanently disrupted his sanity.”
“I wish I were an evil wizard,” Jason complained. “They have all the fun.”
“The second creation was a shape-shifter. It was called the Wanderer. Zokar tried to eliminate it, but the shape-shifter escaped and vanished. None know its fate.”
“And the third?”
“It was known as the Maumet. In form it was like a torivor, but considerably larger. The Maumet can transform itself into any material it touches. Zokar successfully imprisoned the Maumet on Windbreak Island.”
“The same island as the Celestine Library.”
“Correct. None have entered the library since that time. Many have tried. Eldrin was not one of them.”
Jason frowned. “But after Eldrin defeated Zokar, didn’t he go on a rampage destroying books?”
“Good memory,” Ferrin approved. “Eldrin decided to rid Lyrian of wizardry, and sought to destroy all the books that taught Edomic. Of the great storehouses of learning, only the Celestine Library remained untouched. Even the legendary Eldrin chose not to confront the Maumet. What does that tell you?”
“The Maumet is tough.”
“It intimidated the most powerful wizard Lyrian has known. It got between him and his mission, and he let it stay there.”
“He might have figured the Maumet would be able to guard that information forever,” Jason said.
“All indications have shown that he would have been correct,” Ferrin said. “Maldor has sent several teams to retrieve information from the Celestine Library. None have succeeded. I’ve heard that the only way to harm the Maumet is to chip off pieces. Sort of the opposite of me.” He casually detached one hand at the wrist, flipped it into the air, then caught it on the stump at the end of his forearm. The hand fused seamlessly back into place.
“So if we chop off an arm, the arm is gone.”
“Supposedly, the Maumet never regenerates lost material. But this is all speculative. Nobody has ever severed a limb. To my knowledge nobody has ever seriously harmed it.”
Jason stared out over the steaming jungle. “And we need to find a way.”
“The oracle tasked Galloran with regaining control of Trensicourt, raising an army, and mounting a direct assault on the emperor’s impenetrable stronghold. If you ask me, Galloran has the easy job.”
“Rachel seems pretty nervous,” Jason said. “She was worried the oracle might have been wrong.”
“I don’t think the oracle was wrong.”
“No?”
“No. She was authentic. I expect that her prediction was valid. Remember, she wasn’t promising victory. She was looking for any possible route to victory, no matter how faint. I’m sure if you can somehow access the library, there is a chance of finding a way to contact Darian the Seer, even though he is supposed to be dead. Those strong enough in Edomic have found methods to achieve astonishing life spans. And it is conceivable that the famed pyromancer could provide some arcane information that might help an attack on Felrook succeed. I can’t begin to imagine what that information could be. And I doubt that any knowledge could make such a victory likely.”
“This isn’t sounding good,” Jason said, dread pooling in the pit of his stomach.
“We asked if, among all the possible futures, there might be a one-in-a-billion chance of turning the tide and dethroning Maldor. I’m sure the oracle found what Galloran sought: a theoretically possible, but highly unlikely, path to victory.”
Jason rubbed his wrist anxiously. “In other words, we won’t just probably fail—we’ll almost certainly fail. You’re still willing to go along with it?”
“If Maldor ever apprehends me, my fate is certain. Just like you and Galloran and the Amar Kabal, I’d take a minuscule chance at victory over certain doom. If we fail, I can still try to jump ship and hide in the wilderness for the rest of my life, which is my only other current option.”
