“He tried to kill me,” Rachel said in a small voice.
After a final hard look at the body on the floor, Galloran tied his blindfold in place. Apparently, he didn’t want any more details to reach Maldor through his displacer eyes. “Maldor would have rejoiced at your death. But he has some idea of your abilities. He should have recognized that this Kalia, although talented, was probably not up to the challenge. This attack may have simply been a test.”
Rachel huffed softly. “Rough test.”
“Maldor knows no gentle games.” Galloran put an arm around her shoulders. “Try not to let this rattle you. Take solace that you rose to the occasion. Thankfully, we’ve kept the details of the prophecy from all at Mianamon save Ulani. Even so, Maldor knows exactly where we are and may have deduced some of our intentions. As we embark on our quests, we’ll all have trials to face in the coming days. I fear this is only the beginning.”
CHAPTER 2
MIANAMON
From his perch hundreds of feet above the temple floor, Jason watched a pair of apes circle each other, quarterstaves held ready. The simian combatants stepped gingerly, slender torsos hunched, long limbs coiled. The taller of the white gibbons stood roughly the same height as Jason. Screeching and hooting, they rushed together, elongated forms wielding the staffs with fluid agility. Many other apes watched the duel, close-set eyes fixed on the fiercely clacking rods.
The white gibbons had been engineered by Certius, the ill-fated wizard who had made his home in the southern jungles of Lyrian. Although the gibbons lacked the power of speech, they had surprising intelligence, and communicated with humans using hand gestures.
Iron lattices covered many of the higher walls and ceilings within the Temple of Mianamon. The gibbons could travel across the framework with careless grace, leaping and swinging, dangling from hands or feet, heedless of the potential fall. They mostly resided on lofty shelves near the summit of the temple. Jason had made it up here using a cramped system of tunnels, stairways, and ladders.
Observing the apes was one of his favorite pastimes at Mianamon. He had taught them to hold batting practice using quarterstaves and citrus fruit. He could seldom get an ape to strike out. Changeups worked best.
Today the brawling apes failed to distract Jason. Rods cracked, gibbons hooted, but he watched from a distance, alone, his mind far from the playful sparring. After several months, this would be his last day at Mianamon. Within hours he would part with Rachel and Galloran and many of his other friends. Their season of rest and preparation had been shattered when Rachel was ambushed last night. With little warning, suddenly they had to leave.
Jason watched the skillful apes without any pleasure at all. So why was he here? Had he thought the apes might hold solutions to his troubles? Of course not. Then what was he doing? Sulking? Hiding?
Jason had spent more days at this tropical temple than the rest of his time in Lyrian combined. He had turned fourteen at some point, though he couldn’t be certain which day, since the passage of time between his world and Lyrian was out of sync. Further complicating matters, the calendar in Lyrian had ten months, each with thirty-eight days.
Winter in the jungle had never grown cold. The days had gotten a little shorter, the air less warm on occasion, the rainfall more persistent, but Jason had never needed a heavy cloak. He had spent much of the winter training with weapons. Ferrin, Drake, Aram, Corinne, and Jasher had been working directly with Galloran, and they had in turn provided instruction to Jason, Tark, Nia, Io, and Farfalee.
Jason was a much improved swordsman. He could now make a respectable showing against Ferrin or Drake on the practice field. Farfalee had helped him with archery, Nedwin had offered lessons in knife work, and Io had tutored him in wrestling. For the first time, Jason felt he might be able to contribute in a fight, rather than desperately hope to survive until the others got the job done. In theory he would be more useful than ever. Could his new combat skills be part of the reason the oracle had placed so much importance on his participation in the upcoming quest?
“Catching one last ape battle?” a voice asked, making Jason jump and turn. It was Rachel, looking mystical in her acolyte robes. He hadn’t seen her since the incident, and although Galloran had reassured him that she was fine, it was a relief to see she truly looked unharmed.
“Some people build model ships. Some pop bubble wrap. I’m more into dueling gibbons.”
“Ferrin was looking for you.”
“I was going to come down. Eventually.” He tried to think of a smooth way to bring up the attempt on her life. “Hey, are you okay?”
“I didn’t get stabbed. I’m about how you’d expect.”
“I’m so sorry that happened.”
“I talked to Galloran. He helped. I’d honestly rather not dwell on it.” Rachel sighed, eyes on the apes. “Can you believe we’re leaving?”
“Not really. I knew it was coming, but still . . . I wish I felt more ready.”
“How do you get ready to save the world or die trying?”
“I guess that’s the problem.” Jason stood, stretching his arms and legs. It felt good. He must have held the same position for longer than he had realized. “Are you wearing those robes out of here? Planning to do some trick-or-treating?”
Rachel chuckled, looking down at herself. “I’ll wear Amar Kabal robes for the road. But I’m bringing these, too. Galloran thinks they make me look more wizardly.”
“Don’t dress for the job you have—dress for the job you want.”
“I guess that’s the idea. Maybe I should dress up as an innocent bystander.”
“Too late for that.” Jason stared down at his feet. He was going to miss her. Rachel’s hand clasped his and he glanced up. Her eyes looked a little misty. He scowled. “Don’t get all sentimental.”
“I hate that we have to split up.”