“I’ll rejoin you at Three Peaks,” Nedwin called, veering off the road to the right.
Jason and the others stayed on the road for perhaps ten minutes before turning off into a field. Ferrin had the lead. Aram brought up the rear.
As Jason cantered beside Rachel, he could hardly believe that against all odds they were together again. Rocking in time with his horse, cool wind on his face, he squinted ahead at Dorsio and Galloran, then back at Tark and Aram, dim shapes in the starlight. He doubted whether he and Rachel would be safer anywhere in Lyrian. They rode with cunning adventurers who knew how to fight and forage, who could probably survive for as long as necessary on the run. Racing through the night, in spite of his hardships, Jason felt gratitude and relief. A mighty emperor might be hunting him, but at least he wasn’t alone.
CHAPTER 13
HUNTED
Toward the end of the second day after fleeing from the bridge, deep in rugged, hilly country, Jason rode his horse over the lip of a roundish valley. A lake filled the bottom of the depression, the water interrupted by a large, wooded island crudely shaped like a horseshoe.
Drake led the way down to the edge of the lake, then rode out onto the water. Instead of becoming immersed, the horse never sank deep enough for the water to touch Drake’s boots.
“Shallow lake?” Jason asked Ferrin.
“I’ve never been here,” Ferrin replied, “but Drake was telling me there are three ways to the island: broad way, narrow way, and crooked way. The rest of the lake is quite deep, but three submerged ridges allow access from the shore to anyone who knows the secret and doesn’t mind wading.”
Jason and Ferrin found themselves at the rear of the group, following the other riders out onto the lake. Looking down, Jason noticed that the water was a murky green. He couldn’t see far below the surface.
“A wizard once called this island home,” Galloran commented over his shoulder, apparently having overheard the conversation. “The valley is difficult to find unless you know the way.”
The nine riders reached the island and trotted inland from the shore. Toward the center of the island, Drake brought them to a clearing ringed by tall pines with scaly bark. A large stone cottage and a few smaller outbuildings stood in various stages of disrepair. The cottage lacked a door and had lost most of one wall. The windows had no glass. Part of the roof remained. A pair of young trees grew out of the roofless portion.
“After dark we can build a fire in the cottage,” Drake said. “We could all use a full night’s rest and some hot food.”
“Couldn’t we get cornered here?” Aram asked.
“I know all three ways off this island,” Drake said. “We’ve seen no sign of anyone tracking us, and this valley is isolated and elusive.”
“Good enough for me,” Aram replied, dismounting.
Nobody else raised objections.
While Jason was unpacking his blankets, Rachel came over. She placed a hand on his shoulder and whispered, “I want to show you something.”
Curious, he followed her over to one of the crumbling outbuildings. Little more than a pair of adjacent walls remained. Rachel led Jason to the corner where the two walls met, shielding them from view.
“Check this out,” Rachel said, taking a candle from her pocket. She held it up and mumbled a short phrase, and a flame came to life. She shielded the fire with her hand.
“How’d you do that?” Jason asked, impressed. He hadn’t recognized the words she spoke, yet somehow he instinctively understood they pertained to gathering heat.
“Edomic,” she replied. “I can teach you.”
“Who taught you?”
“Drake showed me how to light fires. Then the charm lady taught me some other things. It isn’t too hard once you get the hang of it.”
Jason blew out the candle. “Do it again.”
She mumbled the phrase, and the flame returned.
“You just say the words?” Jason verified.
“Partly. The words ask heat to gather. But you have to put your will behind the words and sort of force the heat to obey.”
Jason held out a hand. “Let me try.”
She blew out the flame and handed him the candle, then slowly and clearly told him the words.
“It sounds like you’re singing them,” Jason said.
“You don’t have to be loud about it,” Rachel said. “But the pitch does matter. The charm woman said some wizards used to get results just by speaking the words in their minds. But you still need to pronounce everything correctly.”
They repeated the words back and forth. Rachel made little corrections in his inflections. “This seems a lot harder than saying the Word.”
“It is,” Rachel said. “The charm woman explained it to me. The Word was as close to nonsense as Edomic gets. It was just a password, a trigger, to set a prearranged enchantment into motion. It was deliberately simple. Many Edomic words can’t be written with English phonetics. She said the only complicated part would have been designing the Word to erase itself from memory.”
Jason kept working to perfect the phrase to summon heat. Finally Rachel approved. He repeated the phrase a few times.
“You’ve got it,” Rachel said. “Now focus on the candle, say the words, and demand them to be fulfilled.”
Jason stared at the candle. He imagined the flame flickering to life, spoke the phrase, and focused on the wick, willing it to burn. After a prolonged mental effort, nothing happened. His gaze switched to Rachel. “What did I do wrong?”
“I don’t know,” she replied, a crease forming between her eyebrows. “Make sure you imagine the heat responding and gathering. It’s sort of like making a wish. Have you ever wished for something so hard that it’s almost like you’re trying to force it to come true?”
“Sure,” he said.
“It’s kind of like that, except this actually works. Speak the command, then back it up with mental effort. Make the heat fulfill your words.”
He tried several more times with no effect. “Am I pronouncing the words right?”
“Sounds right to me. And the meaning is coming through.”
“Weird how I don’t know the words, but I can feel the meaning.”
“Edomic is like that. It’s very exact. Everything understands it intuitively. But knowing the words to speak isn’t intuitive. You have to learn them.”
Jason spoke the phrase again, putting emotion into his voice, then throwing all his mental energy at the wick, as if he truly believed that pure desire could start a fire. As before, he didn’t get a single spark or a wisp of smoke. “You do it again,” he said.