Settings

Seeds of Rebellion

Page 68

   


“Why can’t I see?” Galloran asked in alarm, pulling the blindfold from his empty eye sockets. Jason flinched at the sight. “What has happened to my voice? Where am I?”
“Galloran!” Corinne exclaimed, taking one of his hands.
“Is that you, Corinne?”
“Yes. I’m away from the tree! You sent two men to free me. Drake and Nedwin. You’ve been blinded since we last met. You look older.”
“So it seems. You’ve grown. You sound like a woman.” Galloran grimaced. “How long has it been?”
“Galloran,” Jason said. “You may want to cover your face. The gas from the mushrooms is messing up your memories.”
“Who speaks?” Galloran challenged, his hand straying to the hilt of his sword.
“I’m a friend,” Jason replied. “We’re traveling together in the swamp to rescue Corinne.”
“Lord Jason!” Corinne greeted warmly, her gaze alighting on him. “Thank you for coming. The others told me the Word did not work.”
“What?” Galloran gasped. “The Word failed?”
“You’ll feel less confused if you cover your face,” Corinne insisted.
Nodding he pulled the fabric into place and backed away. “What happened to my blindfold?” he asked after a moment, pulling it back into place.
“The spores addled you,” Drake said.
“What news of the Pythoness?” Galloran asked.
Corinne quietly recited how her mother had passed away, clutching her chest. Jason thought Corinne seemed a little more soft-spoken in her tree persona. She didn’t seem to realize that Galloran was her father. Inside the tree she had apparently believed that the Pythoness was her mother and Galloran a friend.
“Where did the new boat come from?” Jason asked.
“Servants of Maldor,” Corinne replied. “Four strangers arrived a few days ago. In my youth, Galloran, you taught me to recognize the armor worn by conscriptors, and three of my visitors were outfitted as you had described. The fourth was a displacer. They entered the tree bearing weapons, but forgot their purpose. I could only assume they had come to slay me. I was a perfect hostess. I fed them. They undressed and went to bed. I poisoned them while they slept.”
“Well done,” Galloran said.
“There were no corpses,” Drake said. “She had dumped them in the swamp. I’m relieved that she believed we were there to help her.”
“I was nervous,” Corinne admitted. “But you bore the proper tokens.”
“Good girl,” Galloran said. “I’m sorry you had to face such a grim predicament, but I’m proud that you did what was necessary. You still have the sword?”
Corinne drew a magnificent blade, so sleek and shiny that it looked too valuable to actually use.
“It’s just like yours,” Rachel said to Galloran.
“Great prongs of Dendalus!” Ferrin gasped. His eyes flicked to Corinne and Rachel. “Pardon the expression. Is that sword what I think it is?”
Galloran unsheathed his weapon. “The companion blade to mine.”
“They’re really torivorian?” Ferrin breathed, his hesitant voice full of wonder.
“Wait,” Jason said. “Torivorian? As in made by lurkers?”
“The dueling weapons of the torivor,” Galloran confirmed.
“The lurker who followed me didn’t carry a sword,” Jason said.
Ferrin snorted. “If your lurker had a sword, you wouldn’t be here.”
“Why not?”
“Maldor can send out lurkers in two ways,” Ferrin explained. “To scout or to duel. He very rarely sends them at all, and much less often to duel, because he can only send each torivor to duel once. After the duel is accomplished, the torivor goes free.”
“The torivor appears bearing a pair of swords,” Galloran said. “Most weapons could not scratch a lurker, but when a torivor comes to duel, it brings a sword that can.”
“It is the only time a torivor will initiate an attack,” Ferrin said. “Otherwise they simply retaliate. But if you have the swords, Galloran …”
“He bested a torivor,” Nedwin bragged.
“What?” Jason exclaimed. “You killed a lurker in a duel?”
“It required all of my skill at the height of my strength,” Galloran said. “Maldor meant to remove me.”
“I knew that, historically, lurkers had been sent out to dispatch enemies on occasion,” Ferrin said in awe, “but I have never heard a whisper of a torivor losing.”
“There were few witnesses,” Galloran replied.
“When did this happen?” Ferrin asked.
“Years ago, not too long before I was taken. It was the fight of my life.”
“You have long been reputed as the finest swordsman in Lyrian,” Drake said. “But word of this deed never got out. You should be renowned as the greatest swordsman of all time.”
Galloran waved a dismissive hand, sheathing his sword. “I am no longer the same man. Boasts of past deeds will defeat no new enemies. Besides, I may have gotten lucky.”
Ferrin laughed. “Lucky? Against a lurker? Preposterous. Absent the swords, I wouldn’t believe your victory possible. But the weapons are unmistakable.”
“Are you holding a gatecrasher?” Drake asked Ferrin.
“Two, actually,” he replied, displaying them.
“It’s a day for the unbelievable,” Drake said. Glancing around furtively, he lowered his voice. “What of the menace?”
“The menace?” Rachel asked.
“The guardian of the Drowned City,” Drake explained. “My people venture into the Sunken Lands on occasion, but never here. You negotiated with it?”
“They destroyed it,” Jason said.
Drake’s jaw dropped.
“Your menace was the wizard Orruck,” Galloran explained. “The word Jason and Rachel obtained had the power to unmake him.”
“We trusted the message you left back at the watchtowers,” Drake said, “but I did not imagine that you had actually vanquished the menace. To any of my people, that feat will sound even less likely than outdueling a torivor.”
“Congratulate Rachel,” Galloran said. “She uttered the Word just in time to preserve our lives.”
“After Galloran drew Orruck’s attention,” Rachel said modestly. “I had the easy part.”