Seeds of Rebellion
Page 72
“They may complain,” Galloran said. “But given their recent behavior, I would be shocked if they intervened directly. Maldor has lulled your people into a very cautious state.”
“Mandibar could take two riders if we keep a moderate pace,” Aram said. “So can my horse. Do we send five of us ahead?”
“Galloran, Tark, Rachel, Corinne, and Jason,” Ferrin said. “If they make it to safety, I don’t expect Maldor will risk provoking the Amar Kabal just to harass the rest of us. He’d have to commit too many resources.”
“Could we find the right way to go?” Rachel asked. “Seems like Drake, Nedwin, and Ferrin are the people who can navigate these ridges.”
“Leave me,” Tark panted. “Let Drake take my place. I might be done for anyway.”
“What do you mean?” Jason said. “You’ve been sounding better lately.”
“He lacks the breath to cough,” Galloran said. “I’ve been listening to him wheeze. The lungrot is advancing swiftly.”
Tark climbed down off the horse.
Galloran lowered his eyebrows when Tark’s feet hit the ground. “I didn’t mean for you to dismount. I just meant that your condition is most serious. You could survive, but if you don’t reach the Amar Kabal soon, the illness will take you. Mount up, Tark. Drake, what are the chances of us beating the horsemen to West Gate if we stay together?”
“Despite our huge lead, they’re moving very fast on a good road. It could be close. I rigged three orantium traps along the road. That’s what took me so long. When a hoof hits the wrong spot, an orantium globe will send up an unmistakable signal. The explosion might also confuse and slow them, if they think they’re under attack.”
“There’s a thought,” Ferrin said. “We have plenty of orantium. A pair of us could set up an ambush along the main road and slow them, buy time for the others. If we can find a favorable spot, we might even defeat them.”
Galloran frowned. “If we stay together, can we beat the horsemen to the mouth of the pass?”
“To the mouth?” Drake repeated. “Almost certainly. We’re perhaps three hours from the start of the pass. If we exert ourselves, our pursuers couldn’t get there before us. But even hurrying, it will require more than an hour to make it up the pass to the gate. They could very well ride us down in the meanwhile.”
“Is there a better bottleneck than the pass for an ambush?” Galloran asked.
Drake shook his head. “West Gate was placed in that pass because the way becomes so narrow.”
“Let’s race them,” Galloran said. “If it comes to it, the tight confines of the pass should allow an ambush to wreak havoc on them with orantium.”
Drake folded his arms, his expression brooding. “Once in the pass, there will be no fleeing except through West Gate. If our enemies catch up, or if we’re denied admittance, there will be nowhere to hide.”
“I am an honorary citizen of the Seven Vales by ceremony,” Galloran said. “If the Amar Kabal look on while I’m slaughtered outside their gates, our cause is already beyond hopeless.”
“Corinne’s tired,” Rachel blurted.
“We’ll put her on Mandibar,” Drake said, dismounting. “I have little reason to scout between here and the pass.”
“This is our final sprint,” Galloran said. “We’ll take turns riding as needed to keep the best possible pace. We’re running for more than our lives. The future of Lyrian depends on our success.”
The pace did not feel enough like a sprint to Rachel. Then again, an actual sprint over rough terrain for several miles after so much exertion might not have been realistic. Still, they went faster than ever, and before long the pace seemed plenty quick. Rachel eventually rode again for a while, and Jason mounted up behind Tark for a time. Corinne took another turn jogging so that Aram could ride behind Rachel.
The sun rose higher. Rachel returned to jogging once she felt rested. She had always been in good shape, and roaming the wilderness for weeks on end had her in the best shape of her life. But still she found herself flagging. She tried to draw strength from Nedwin, Drake, Ferrin, and Dorsio, who could apparently press forward forever without respite.
At length they came into view of the road. Drake led them down a gentle slope until they intersected the wide, dirt lane.
“I take it there are no orantium traps ahead of us,” Aram said.
“All are behind,” Drake assured him. “In fact, it’s a favorable sign that the first has not yet exploded.”
“Could they have missed it?” Jason asked.
“I rigged each sphere so that a reasonably broad area of road would trigger the detonation. One rider might miss it, but forty will surely spring each of the traps.”
“On level ground I can walk as fast as any of you,” Galloran said. “Let others take my mount.”
Tark coughed weakly—a hitching, reedy wheeze, as if his airway were mostly plugged. He rode with his head bowed and his eyes closed. Rachel, Corinne, and Aram rode as well.
The pass came into view ahead, a deep gorge that wound up into the imposing mountains. On the level road, they made their best time yet. Rachel hoped that after so many miles at high speeds, the horses chasing them would become tired.
They were not yet to the mouth of the pass when a distant boom reached their ears. Mandibar whickered in response.
“The first trap,” Drake said. “We have a chance, but it will be close. Ideally, we should quicken our pace, but the grade up the pass will make that easier said than done.”
“Onward,” urged Galloran, increasing the speed of his shuffling jog.
They advanced into the shadow of the gorge, steep walls of rock rising to impressive heights on either side. The road steepened. Everyone on foot panted harder.
Suddenly Galloran stopped and held up a hand. The group halted. He craned his neck, tilting his head from side to side. “I sense a presence.”
“There,” Drake said, a finger stabbing upward.
Rachel followed the line on his arm up to a distant silhouette atop one wall of the gorge. Just as her eyes found the figure, it jumped, arms and legs spread wide, and fell hundreds of feet as if fully committed to a suicidal belly flop. An instant before impact, the hurtling lurker changed position, landing in a crouch on the road. Although it seemed to land with tremendous speed, Rachel heard no sound.
“Mandibar could take two riders if we keep a moderate pace,” Aram said. “So can my horse. Do we send five of us ahead?”
“Galloran, Tark, Rachel, Corinne, and Jason,” Ferrin said. “If they make it to safety, I don’t expect Maldor will risk provoking the Amar Kabal just to harass the rest of us. He’d have to commit too many resources.”
“Could we find the right way to go?” Rachel asked. “Seems like Drake, Nedwin, and Ferrin are the people who can navigate these ridges.”
“Leave me,” Tark panted. “Let Drake take my place. I might be done for anyway.”
“What do you mean?” Jason said. “You’ve been sounding better lately.”
“He lacks the breath to cough,” Galloran said. “I’ve been listening to him wheeze. The lungrot is advancing swiftly.”
Tark climbed down off the horse.
Galloran lowered his eyebrows when Tark’s feet hit the ground. “I didn’t mean for you to dismount. I just meant that your condition is most serious. You could survive, but if you don’t reach the Amar Kabal soon, the illness will take you. Mount up, Tark. Drake, what are the chances of us beating the horsemen to West Gate if we stay together?”
“Despite our huge lead, they’re moving very fast on a good road. It could be close. I rigged three orantium traps along the road. That’s what took me so long. When a hoof hits the wrong spot, an orantium globe will send up an unmistakable signal. The explosion might also confuse and slow them, if they think they’re under attack.”
“There’s a thought,” Ferrin said. “We have plenty of orantium. A pair of us could set up an ambush along the main road and slow them, buy time for the others. If we can find a favorable spot, we might even defeat them.”
Galloran frowned. “If we stay together, can we beat the horsemen to the mouth of the pass?”
“To the mouth?” Drake repeated. “Almost certainly. We’re perhaps three hours from the start of the pass. If we exert ourselves, our pursuers couldn’t get there before us. But even hurrying, it will require more than an hour to make it up the pass to the gate. They could very well ride us down in the meanwhile.”
“Is there a better bottleneck than the pass for an ambush?” Galloran asked.
Drake shook his head. “West Gate was placed in that pass because the way becomes so narrow.”
“Let’s race them,” Galloran said. “If it comes to it, the tight confines of the pass should allow an ambush to wreak havoc on them with orantium.”
Drake folded his arms, his expression brooding. “Once in the pass, there will be no fleeing except through West Gate. If our enemies catch up, or if we’re denied admittance, there will be nowhere to hide.”
“I am an honorary citizen of the Seven Vales by ceremony,” Galloran said. “If the Amar Kabal look on while I’m slaughtered outside their gates, our cause is already beyond hopeless.”
“Corinne’s tired,” Rachel blurted.
“We’ll put her on Mandibar,” Drake said, dismounting. “I have little reason to scout between here and the pass.”
“This is our final sprint,” Galloran said. “We’ll take turns riding as needed to keep the best possible pace. We’re running for more than our lives. The future of Lyrian depends on our success.”
The pace did not feel enough like a sprint to Rachel. Then again, an actual sprint over rough terrain for several miles after so much exertion might not have been realistic. Still, they went faster than ever, and before long the pace seemed plenty quick. Rachel eventually rode again for a while, and Jason mounted up behind Tark for a time. Corinne took another turn jogging so that Aram could ride behind Rachel.
The sun rose higher. Rachel returned to jogging once she felt rested. She had always been in good shape, and roaming the wilderness for weeks on end had her in the best shape of her life. But still she found herself flagging. She tried to draw strength from Nedwin, Drake, Ferrin, and Dorsio, who could apparently press forward forever without respite.
At length they came into view of the road. Drake led them down a gentle slope until they intersected the wide, dirt lane.
“I take it there are no orantium traps ahead of us,” Aram said.
“All are behind,” Drake assured him. “In fact, it’s a favorable sign that the first has not yet exploded.”
“Could they have missed it?” Jason asked.
“I rigged each sphere so that a reasonably broad area of road would trigger the detonation. One rider might miss it, but forty will surely spring each of the traps.”
“On level ground I can walk as fast as any of you,” Galloran said. “Let others take my mount.”
Tark coughed weakly—a hitching, reedy wheeze, as if his airway were mostly plugged. He rode with his head bowed and his eyes closed. Rachel, Corinne, and Aram rode as well.
The pass came into view ahead, a deep gorge that wound up into the imposing mountains. On the level road, they made their best time yet. Rachel hoped that after so many miles at high speeds, the horses chasing them would become tired.
They were not yet to the mouth of the pass when a distant boom reached their ears. Mandibar whickered in response.
“The first trap,” Drake said. “We have a chance, but it will be close. Ideally, we should quicken our pace, but the grade up the pass will make that easier said than done.”
“Onward,” urged Galloran, increasing the speed of his shuffling jog.
They advanced into the shadow of the gorge, steep walls of rock rising to impressive heights on either side. The road steepened. Everyone on foot panted harder.
Suddenly Galloran stopped and held up a hand. The group halted. He craned his neck, tilting his head from side to side. “I sense a presence.”
“There,” Drake said, a finger stabbing upward.
Rachel followed the line on his arm up to a distant silhouette atop one wall of the gorge. Just as her eyes found the figure, it jumped, arms and legs spread wide, and fell hundreds of feet as if fully committed to a suicidal belly flop. An instant before impact, the hurtling lurker changed position, landing in a crouch on the road. Although it seemed to land with tremendous speed, Rachel heard no sound.
