Seeds of Rebellion

  “No,” Galloran said, mentally and verbally. “Lightning requires too much finesse.”

  She has the strength.

  “But not the control,” Galloran said. “Don’t do it, Rachel. If you mean to slay us, Orruck, do it outright. Without a rebellion to halt Maldor, see how fondly he remembers you after his will dominates this continent.”

  Orruck glided toward the canoe, neck cutting through the water like a shark fin. Is that a threat? The telepathic words had become dangerously silky.

  “It’s the reality of the situation,” Galloran said. “The three of us would make a meager meal for one so grand. But we could serve you well in harming a common enemy.”

  Could you help me reach beyond my borders and strike down one who spurned me? Orruck scoffed. Is the orantium useless here in my treasure hoard? Will you see it employed to dethrone my archrival? Will you become instruments of my will, bringing me the vengeance I rightfully deserve? I have heard your arguments before, trickster. Do you expect to fool me again?

  Galloran’s raspy voice held steady. “You have little to gain from our demise, but much to gain should you send us abroad. Even if we fail, you strike an unlikely blow against an enemy.”

  I perceive that you are my enemy, Orruck answered. I perceive that if I do not comply with your demands, you mean to coerce me. You believe the key word you obtained is destined to destroy me. I can feel that hope behind your words, behind your thoughts. You as well as the girl. Did you come here to threaten me? Do you imagine that a paltry Edomic expression from my days as a groveling apprentice could possibly bother the monstrosity I have become?

  “I imagine that your master knew his trade,” Galloran replied. “This can still end peacefully. Give us orantium. I presume you still have it? We will use it against Maldor.”

  Please, Rachel added.

  The head sank out of sight.

  “Where’s he going?” Rachel whispered.

  “Fetching globes,” Galloran murmured. “The negotiation is precarious. Stand ready.”

  Rachel wrung water from her shirt, her nervous hands anxious to be active. Was Orruck really fetching globes? Or was he preparing to attack?

  The head returned and hung over the island of slabs. The great jaws unfolded gently, spilling dozens of tinkling orantium globes onto the island. Several rolled into the water, clinking against the stone. Rachel tensed, half expecting the globes to detonate in his face.

  I have more orantium than you could carry away, Orruck conveyed. This is a humble sample.

  “I understood that you guarded an impressive supply,” Galloran said.

  I set the terms here, Orruck insisted, leaving the island and coming closer to the canoe. How dare you consider threatening me? I should crush you for entertaining the possibility. Here are my conditions. Since I have lost faith in Galloran, Rachel, scorch my ceiling with lightning, and you will depart with my orantium.

  Galloran and Dorsio, too? she verified.

  Perhaps. Scorch the ceiling and we will negotiate. The Edomic command for lightning repeated in her mind.

  Rachel looked to Galloran for guidance. She saw his face tense up before he drew his sword and lunged into her, tackling her out of the canoe. Dorsio dove the opposite way. As they hit the water, an enormous claw surged up from beneath the canoe, tossing the craft into the air. Rachel tried to tread water, and Galloran pushed her away with both legs, holding up his gleaming sword so that it impaled the claw as it swiped down and pushed him underwater.

  Neck arching, fierce jaws gaping, Orruck snaked forward to swallow Rachel.

  “Arimfexendrapuse,” she gasped, nasty water lapping into her mouth.

  Orruck’s head rocked back, blubber fluttering wildly, his great mouth clamping shut. All of his eyes closed, and with a brilliant flare of searing light, he was reduced to a cloud of black ash. For an instant the ash held to his shape, a brief afterimage of his existence, and then the sooty particles began to disperse as they drifted downward.

  Galloran surfaced beside Rachel, gasping for breath. Well done, he transmitted mentally.

  She stared in astonished relief at the floating ash. She tried to recall the word she had uttered, but not a syllable remained. I’m just glad it worked, she replied. He was about to eat me. How did you know he was going to attack?

  Dorsio righted the canoe and began to swim it toward Rachel and Galloran.

  The same way he figured out we had the word to unmake him, Galloran explained. I sensed his intent just before he moved to swipe the canoe. He was afraid. He hoped to crush us before we could try the Word. Showing us orantium and then challenging you to summon lightning were simply distractions. He did a fine job burying his intentions until the last instant.

  And you stabbed his claw the same way?

  I felt it coming.

  “Are you all right?” Rachel asked out loud.

  “The blow dislocated my shoulder,” Galloran said. “At least I kept hold of the sword.”

  Dorsio helped Galloran into the canoe. Rachel stared at the sword in his hand, the lustrous blade gleaming.

  “It’s a beautiful sword,” she said.

  “Unequalled craftsmanship,” Galloran agreed. “Dorsio, please force my shoulder back into place. We’ll have to fetch the others. With all the roaring, they may fear we perished. Plus, we’ll need help transporting the orantium. We’ll want to scour the area for all we can find.”

  Dorsio placed one hand against Galloran’s back, the other on his upper arm, and reset his shoulder with a measured jerk. Galloran gave a soft grunt.

  “There’s a bunch of orantium in view,” Rachel said.

  “And more beneath the surface,” Galloran said. “It should help open doors for us.”

  CHAPTER 16

  GLOBES AND MUSHROOMS

  Doing his best to count one second at a time, Jason had reached two hundred and eighteen before Tark surfaced. Since Jason had reached one hundred and seventy during the previous dive, he was concerned but not yet panicked. Tark had proven that he could hold his breath for a very long time.

  “Look what I found,” Tark said, breathing deeply but not desperately, one hand clutching the side of the skiff while the other held up a crystal globe the size of a soccer ball.

  “Is that orantium?” Rachel asked.

  “Looks like it,” Tark replied.

  “It’s huge,” Jason said.

  “How huge?” Galloran asked.

  “The rock inside is bigger than my fist,” Jason said.

  Galloran chuckled with boyish excitement. “A gatecrasher. None are supposed to remain. I have certainly never seen one. They were intended to bombard heavy fortifications. Did you see any more?”

  “At least twenty,” Tark replied. “Along with plenty of regular globes, all crowded into a deep chamber.”

  “Twenty gatecrashers,” Galloran enthused. “This surpasses my most optimistic expectations.”

  “All right,” Ferrin huffed, “I’ll help. But if I catch some horrible disease, I’ll be coughing on all of you.”

  “I can get them,” Tark said. “The water isn’t cold. And the globes weigh little underwater. They almost float. I could keep this up for hours.”

  Ferrin pulled off his nose and handed it to Jason. “I’ve felt guilty this entire time. This last dive kept you under for too long.”

  “It’s a deep chamber,” Tark said, “but I can reach it.”

  “It isn’t fair for the one of us who can breathe underwater to relax while you do dangerous work. A find like those gatecrashers pushes me over the edge. I’ll make sure the deepest recesses are investigated. Jason, don’t let the fabric completely block my breathing.” He stepped off the skiff.

  “I’m not sure how much more we can carry,” Jason said. The skiff and the canoe were both already heavily laden with orantium spheres. They had transferred all the globes from the island of stone slabs, and Tark had already salvaged dozens more from below the water.

  “Someth
ing tells me we could make room for more gatecrashers,” Ferrin said, his face unsightly without a nose. He glanced at Tark. “Show me where to go.”

  The displacer and Tark both vanished below the murky surface, using the last of the luminous kelp to light their way. The glowing seaweed passed out of sight before long.

  Jason, Rachel, Dorsio, and Galloran waited together on the skiff. Aram, still small, lay sleeping in the bow.

  “Look!” Rachel said.

  Jason turned and found Drake and Nedwin rowing through the gap in the wall. They piloted a vessel not quite as large as the skiff, but significantly bigger than the canoe. The young woman who accompanied them had long blond hair. Like the others, her face was covered with fabric, but her expressive green eyes sparkled with excitement.

  “Father!” Corinne cried.

  A quiet sob shook Galloran before he pulled the fabric from his face and called out, “Corinne?”

  “Your daughter lives!” Nedwin exclaimed triumphantly.

  Galloran’s smile crinkled the exposed portions of his bearded face into happy lines. He pressed a hand to his chest. Drake and Nedwin swiftly rowed nearer.

  Corinne leaped lightly to the skiff. She wore brown traveling clothes and notably feminine boots. A sword hung from her trim waist in a long sheath. Jason was surprised to find she was not much shorter than him. As she pulled the fabric from her face to greet her father with a kiss, Jason noticed generous lips, flawless skin, and elegantly sculpted features. She looked to be in her late teens, and abruptly struck him as the most beautiful girl he had ever seen!

  Tark and Ferrin surfaced, each holding a pair of large orantium globes.

  “Who’s this?” Ferrin asked. “How long were we under?”

  “They found Corinne,” Rachel supplied.

  “Why the blindfold?” Corinne asked Galloran. “What happened to your eyes?”

  “I lost my sight,” he replied.

  “Oh no!”

  “It was long ago. Tell me what happened to your great-aunt.”

  “I don’t recall the specifics,” Corinne said. “I wrote myself a note that said ‘natural causes.’ You’ll have to check my other set of memories for specifics.” She slipped a hand into the satchel that hung from her shoulder and retrieved a round mushroom. When she squeezed gently, spores the color of brown mustard puffed out. Corinne inhaled deliberately.

  Even with the fabric over his nose and mouth, Jason added the protection of his hand. He knew the spores would block out all memories except those experienced while breathing the mushroom gas.

  “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 t
he 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.”

  “Corinne,” Galloran said. “Put aside the mushroom.”

  She sheathed her sword and returned the fungus to the satchel. Corinne blinked rapidly and rubbed her forehead.

  “Are you back?” Galloran asked.

  “Yes,” she replied.

  “Have you spent sufficient time outside of the tree?” Galloran asked.

  “A few hours a day,” Corinne replied. “Just as we discussed. Talking with my great-aunt. Reading. Performing exercises with my sword. Waiting.” There was an edge of bitterness to the final word.

  “I’m so sorry,” Galloran said. “I didn’t mean to fail. I left you in the safest place I felt I could take you. Mianamon would have been preferable, but there was war in the south at the time. I retrieved you as soon as I was able.”

  “I understand,” Corinne said. Her eyes swept over the group. “Thank you all for coming for me.”

  “You have been through an ordeal,” Galloran said. “The years in hiding were for your good, but it was nonetheless a dismal prison.”