A World Without Heroes - Brandon Mull [153]
“We were warned early this morning of your possible defection. A recent signal confirmed your decision. Is this the seedman Jasher?” The commander indicated the charred remains.
“It’s his identical twin.”
“We know he traveled with you until recently. Where is his amar?”
“I ate it.”
“This is a foolish time for flippancy.”
“I panicked. It tasted horrible. Do you have any mouthwash?”
“Search the vicinity,” the commander ordered his men. “And check the young lord thoroughly.”
They methodically searched Jason and his clothes. Crouching soldiers scoured the surrounding area with painstaking care. “The amar is not here, sir,” a soldier finally reported.
“Search again,” the commander directed. “There can be no error. And bind the prisoner’s wounds.”
A stinging salve was applied to Jason’s torn arm and leg, after which they were wound with linen bandages. Nobody found a seed.
“One of the other men has it, then,” the commander concluded. “They should be apprehended by now.”
“Your men won’t be back,” Jason said. “Do you know the kind of people who live at Harthenham? I’m not talking about the fat ones. I’m talking about the sort who kill guys like you as a hobby.”
“Enough nonsense.”
Several minutes later a lone rider returned, his horse lathered.
“The man who went north rides Kimp’s stallion, Mandibar. The girl had an excellent mount as well. The horses were too fast. The others remain in pursuit, but unless they make a mistake, our only chance lies in anticipating a destination and heading them off.”
The commander scratched his cheek. “Where was he going?” he asked Jason.
“How should I know? He was running away.”
“Tell me about your friends.”
“I hardly knew them. The one who ran off with the girl is named Christopher Columbus. Tall guy. Really skinny. Green hair. Fangs. Six fingers on his left hand. About a hundred years old. Lots of wrinkles.”
“I trust you are enjoying yourself,” the commander sneered. “You are currently protected by orders to inflict no unnecessary harm. Otherwise I would teach you to guard your tongue. Your impudence will not go unpunished for long.” He turned to his men. “Edmund—go to Harthenham and ascertain who we are pursuing. Bradford—take two men to Orin and find the pair who fled north. Cecil, take two men and track the man Eric pursued to the west. The rest of us are off to Felrook.”
CHAPTER 23
THE WORD
A-rim-fex-en-dra-puse. Arimfexendrapuse. The stupidest word Jason could have imagined. Utter nonsense. Supposedly it would unmake Maldor. He repeated the odd syllables in his mind, varying the inflection. If it failed, he could always try “supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.”
For the past several days Jason had ridden east, under the watchful eye of Ian, the commander who had captured him. Six other heavily armed guards rode along as escorts. Ian had promised that before sunset today Jason would behold Felrook.
Throughout the journey Ian had remained tight-lipped about what specifically would happen to Jason. The commander gave ample hints that it would be unpleasant but offered no particulars. Jason hoped they would bring him before Maldor. Since the emperor should not suspect Jason had the entire Word, getting captured could turn into the perfect opportunity to finish his quest.
If he succeeded in destroying the emperor, Jason knew he might face immediate execution. But he was already facing torture or death in the dungeons of Felrook. How great would it be to take down the emperor instead! He thought about the joy it would bring to Rachel, Galloran, Jasher, Tark, Nicholas, and all of the others who had helped him. He had already beaten the odds by surviving as long as he had. Maybe he would find a way to survive after defeating Maldor.
Still, he couldn’t keep a variety of fears from haunting him. What if they planned to brainwash the syllables out of his memory before bringing him before Maldor, to minimize the risk? Galloran was evidence that such precautions were within their power. What if they opted to never even bring him before