Seeds of Rebellion (4 page)

Jason surfaced. The woman was screaming and her son was crying. A few people were hustling over, attracted by the commotion. Last time the hippo had swallowed him spontaneously. How could a person coax a hippo into doing something like that?

Jason dove under again. He tried to slap the hippo, but could not get much force behind the underwater blow. He jabbed his fingers deep into the animal’s wide nostrils, and prodded at his eyes. The great head suddenly jerked to one side, making Jason flinch involuntarily. The head swung back and forth before becoming still again. Jason gave him a final poke in the nostril, then swam up for air.

Quite a crowd had gathered. The woman continued shrieking. “Get out of there!” a man shouted. “What’s the matter with you?”

Treading water and feeling deeply embarrassed, Jason realized how insane all of this must appear to bystanders. He had a feeling there would be more visits to the therapist in his future. The sluggish hippo evidently had no interest in him, and could not be antagonized. But Jason would try one more time.

Something brushed Jason’s leg. He glanced down. The hippo was rising rapidly from directly beneath him, jaws agape. As the bloated brown pachyderm broke the surface of the water around him, Jason was already mostly swallowed. Huge jaws clamped shut amid a chorus of horrified screams, abruptly terminating Jason’s view of the onlookers.

Sliding feetfirst down a slick, rubbery tunnel, Jason heard the screams recede as the volume of the low-pitched melody increased. All was dark until he came to a jarring halt, his legs protruding from a gap in a dying tree.

He lay inside the hollow trunk, staring up through the top at the stars, his clothes soaked. The deep, resonant melody continued.

Jason scooted out of the gap, his backpack making it awkward, and recognized the scene—the tall trees, the dense shrubs, the wide river. He was back in Lyrian.

He hurried to the riverbank. The night was balmy, so his wet clothes did not really bother him. A gibbous moon hung in the clear sky, illuminating the river. A small craft drifted on the dark water. A single figure stood on the humble raft, wrapped in an enormous horn.

“Tark?” Jason called in disbelief. “Tark!”

The music stopped. “Who’s there?” replied a gravelly voice.

“Jason.”

The figure on the raft stumbled. “Lord of Caberton?”

“Yes.”

“Are you … his shade?” The voice sounded awestruck.

“No, it’s really me. I’m back.” Jason could hardly believe it himself. “Come over here.”

The short, robust figure struggled to unburden himself of the cumbersome instrument. Once free of the sousalax, he sculled over to the bank, peering forward suspiciously. The raft bumped against the shore. Tark hesitated. “Come forward so I can see you better.”

Jason realized he had been standing in shadow. He stepped sideways into the moonlight.

“How can this be?” Tark gasped. “You were taken by the emperor.”

“I escaped to the Beyond. Now I’m back.”

Tark sprang from the raft and fell to his knees in the mud before Jason, hands clasped over his broad chest, tear tracks glinting on his cheeks in the moonlight. “My heart is going to rupture with joy,” he proclaimed. “How did you escape?”

Mildly stunned at the exuberant reception, it took Jason a moment to answer. “I had help. Where’s Rachel?”

“We parted ways,” Tark said. “A strategic move, suggested by Drake.”

“Drake? Was this before or after he freed me on the road to Felrook?”

“He helped us before and after. Our enemies dispatched a lurker, so the only way to stay ahead of our foes was constant movement.”

“A lurker?” Jason exclaimed. “Ferrin told me that lurkers are really bad news.”

“The lurker made matters much worse. Eventually we split up to confuse and divide our pursuers. Drake and Rachel took horses one way, I rode off in another direction, leading a second mount, and we set loose a few other horses for good measure.”

“What about Jasher?” Jason asked.

“I delivered the amar of the seedman to his people, at one of the gates to the Seven Vales. He should have been planted weeks ago.”

Jason stared down at Tark. “Why are you here alone, playing your sousalax?”

Tark looked away. “Not
my
sousalax. Mine is long gone. I got this mediocre substitute from a pawnbroker. You see, once I assured the safety of the seedman, I kept running, and eventually found my way home. I had no idea how to rejoin Drake and Rachel. I could only hope that the lurker had deserted them to follow me.”

“They’re also called torivors, right? I don’t know much about them, except for what Ferrin told me.”

Tark shuddered. “The common name is lurker. Since splitting from the others, I’ve glimpsed a dark presence in the distance from time to time, but never got an honest look.”

“So the lurker followed you?” Jason said. “Rachel and Drake may have gotten away?”

“No way to be sure,” Tark replied. “Having never met a torivor, I can’t be certain what exactly tracked me. I pray that I drew away the worst of Rachel and Drake’s pursuers. For the first couple of nights at home, no longer on the move, I expected to be taken. But no enemies ever appeared on my threshold. Instead, I began to stew. My guilt hollowed me out. I would never have left you behind, Lord Jason, had you not entrusted me with the amar. I would have fought to the death at your side.”

It took Jason a moment to realize that Tark truly felt bad for leaving him at Harthenham. “You did the right thing, Tark. We had to give Jasher a chance at survival. And you had to help Rachel. You did what I wanted.”

Tark’s eyes remained downcast. “I couldn’t shake the certainty that in abandoning you to be captured, I had performed my culminating act of betrayal. Not only had I let the Giddy Nine sacrifice themselves without me, I had forsaken the person who had revived my dignity and granted me renewed purpose. Part of me wanted to mount a solitary assault on Felrook, but the undertaking felt too hopeless and too grand. So I purchased a secondhand sousalax, built this small raft, and tonight intended to finish what I started months ago with my comrades.”

“You were headed for the falls? Tark, you have to overcome—”

Tark raised a hand to interrupt. “Waste no words. Even I can read signs this obvious. You are a specter descended from realms ethereal, and for some unfathomable reason you have condescended time and again to rescue me from self-pity.”

“I’m just a regular person.”

Tark snorted a laugh. “Whatever you may be, you are no regular person. Do not protest. In gratitude, I formally vow to serve you until my dying breath.” He prostrated himself further on the muddy bank, bowing his head low. “I pledge to you my fealty. All I
have is yours.” The final words were uttered in profound solemnity.

Jason felt touched by the display. He also felt awkward. “Get up, Tark.”

Tark arose.

Somewhat troubled, Jason folded his arms across his chest. “Look, there’s something I need to tell you.”

“What?”

Jason cleared his throat. “It might affect how you feel about me.”

“I can’t imagine holding you in higher esteem.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about.”

Tark huffed a quick chuckle. “Nothing could make me think less of you.”

Jason gave a small shrug. “Remember that night when eight of the Giddy Nine plunged over the waterfall?”

Tark scowled. “How could I forget?”

“Your music summoned me from the Beyond. And once I entered your world, I tried to prevent you from going over the falls!”

Tark sputtered, clutching his head with both hands. “Wait, hold on, you were the accursed interloper who tried to rescue us?”

“I was.” Jason knew that Tark blamed the wannabe rescuer for ruining what was supposed to be a majestic sacrifice by the Giddy Nine.

In the moonlight, Tark’s rugged countenance slowly became illuminated with comprehension. He spoke like a man beholding a vision. “Then we succeeded.” He thrust a finger at Jason. “You were the hero the oracle told Simeon he would summon. And our destruction was not a prerequisite to our success. Quite the contrary … you arrived before any of us had perished, and you tried to save us from our folly.”

“I’m not sure I’m a hero.”

Tark waved the comment away. “This is no occasion for false modesty. I believed that by surviving, I had spoiled the prophecy and hindered the arrival of the hero. But I didn’t.” He paused. “And they needn’t have died.” His jaw quivered, and then clenched tight. He swiped his forearm over his eyes.

Jason laid a comforting hand on Tark’s sturdy shoulder.

“Wait!” Tark whispered in alarm, slapping himself on the forehead. “I am a buffoon! Quick, onto the raft.”

“Why—”

“Hurry, my lord,” Tark hissed. “I’ll explain on the water.”

Jason climbed aboard the small vessel, feeling it rock alarmingly beneath his weight. Tark shoved off, sloshing in the water before vaulting onto the raft, trousers soaked to the thighs.

“What—”

“Stay down,” Tark cautioned in a low, urgent tone. Jason crouched beside the sousalax. Tark sculled away from the bank, staring hastily about, narrowed eyes searching the night. “I can’t be sure I ever lost the being that has been stalking me.”

“The lurker?” Jason whispered, the night seeming suddenly chillier.

Tark glanced at Jason. “We don’t want to take any chances. It’s a dark, slippery creature. Last time I glimpsed it was yesterday evening. If I were its prey, the villain has had ample opportunities to fall upon me. Perhaps the fiend hoped I would lead it somewhere … or to somebody. To you, I suspect, seeing as you’ve escaped.”

“What
do
you know about lurkers?”

Tark shivered. When he continued, his whisper was barely audible. “They’re foul personages. Unnatural. Nobody really knows much. Drake advised us not to discuss them.”

“If it might be after me, I need to know.”

“I’m not sure myself. Folks say that if Death took a physical
form, he would be a torivor. Whatever has followed me looks like a living shadow, best I can tell.”

Jason furrowed his brow. “What should we do?”

“We must separate. You can’t afford a lurker on your tail. They’re difficult to shake. Believe me, I’ve tried. Drake tried too, and that seedman has forgotten more about woodcraft than I’ll ever know. If we have any luck, the fiend may not yet realize you accompany me. I hesitate, but I think I’ll drop you on the far bank.”

“Why do you hesitate?”

Tark frowned. “Nobody goes into the forest north of the river. They say giants dwell there, and that few who enter ever return.”

“So why send me that way?”

“It’s the last place you would be expected to go. And the last place you would be followed. Aside from the shadowy presence, whatever it is, I have noticed soldiers paying unusual attention to me of late. For all I know, some may be trailing me now. I should have paid closer attention. I wasn’t overly concerned. I thought I was going to my death.”

They were past the middle of the wide river. Jason studied the approaching bank, lined with trees and ferns and shadows. “What about the giants?”

“I have ventured twice into those woods. Not overly far, mind you, but Simeon, our former leader, was curious. There was a man who relished exploration! Anyhow, we went in on two independent occasions for the better part of a day and saw no giants nor any sign of them. There are stories of the old hamlets near the forest being raided, but once the hamlets were abandoned, the stories ceased. Could be the giants moved on. Could be they never lived there.”

They were nearing the far bank. Jason clenched his fists. How was he already in such trouble, not five minutes after returning to Lyrian? Then again, what exactly had he expected? With all of the
potential danger, he was lucky to have found a friend so soon, even if they needed to part ways. Jason had an urgent message to share with Galloran, and Tark might be able to help ensure that the message would get delivered.

“If this is our plan,” Jason whispered, “I need you to do something for me.”

“Name it.”

“Do you know where to find the Blind King?”

“Certainly. Fortaim. Same place as ever.”

“I’ve got to tell him something. The secret is so dangerous, I probably shouldn’t share it. But it’s incredibly important.”

“Have no fear. I am your man.”

“Only repeat this to the Blind King. Let him decide who else should know. Tell him Lord Jason got the entire Key Word. I used it on Maldor. It’s a fake, meant as a diversion. Also tell him I escaped from Felrook.”

“You came before Maldor?” His voice was filled with grim wonder. “You used the Word?”

“Yes. It failed. The Word is meant as a distraction. Can you remember the message?”

“Absolutely. We’ll have to warn Rachel as well. I shared the syllable you relayed to me. She has the entire Word.”

“Exactly. We have to find her. Hopefully, the Blind King can help us.”

“If you don’t mind my asking, why the Blind King? I mean, he gives good advice, but what do you really expect from him?”