Seeds of Rebellion (62 page)

“Then you will watch me dismantle your empire piece by piece,” Galloran said. “When you see anything, it will be the cowardly criminals you employ perishing by my blade. Come for me if you can. I will be waiting.”

And with that he replaced the blindfold.

CHAPTER
27

A
s a furry snake, longer than a shower rod, rippled across his path, Jason decided that he liked the jungle even less than the Sunken Lands. The tropical chaos of ferns, fronds, vines, and towering trees was much hotter than the swamp and just as poisonous, and the journey was taking much longer.

They followed the remnants of an ancient stone road that survived mostly as a jumbled mess overgrown with shrubs and creeping plants. For much of the way, the broken paving stones seemed more likely to turn an ankle than to provide solid footing. But the vanishing roadway still provided access through dense portions of steaming jungle that appeared otherwise impenetrable. And according to Galloran, the archaic thoroughfare led directly to the Temple of Mianamon.

Galloran had not removed his blindfold since the battle at the Last Inn. He shuffled forward with one hand on Corinne’s shoulder, the other using a walking stick to tap the ground ahead. Drake had tried to convince him to abandon the blindfold during the journey, stressing that Maldor must have already assumed where they were headed, and that views of the surrounding vegetation
would reveal little if anything. But Galloran had maintained that he wanted his enemies to see as little as possible, whether or not the view was considered consequential.

Nedwin led the way, using a bright torivorian sword as a machete to hack through the worst of the verdure. He had commented several times about how the edge never seemed to dull no matter how many obstacles he slashed. Galloran had lent the other captured sword to Jasher.

Jason had spent time in conversation with Jasher as they walked the jungle road. Jasher had been reborn in time to witness Lodan’s First Death, and then had tracked Galloran and the diplomats from the Seven Vales to Felrook. The Amar Kabal had reached a peaceful settlement with the emperor, and Galloran had claimed the eyes that Maldor had offered years before. Following the grafting, the emperor had let him depart with no argument.

Once Galloran and Dorsio left Felrook, Jasher had joined them and traveled southeast until meeting Nedwin in the wilderness near the Last Inn. Apparently, Nedwin had heard a disturbance in the hall and slipped out the window with his bedding an instant before the soldiers had entered his room. He had stealthily made his way across the rooftops in order to sneak away and go for help.

Jasher looked younger, but his mannerisms were the same as ever. Jason felt grateful to be back in the company of the first seedman he had met in Lyrian, but he could tell he was not nearly as grateful as Farfalee.

Murky clouds had threatened overhead all morning. From off to one side of the road came the familiar patter of raindrops on leaves. A moment later, rain came bucketing down, soaking Jason’s hair in seconds.

Downpours tended to come and go quickly in the jungle, but the wetness inevitably lingered. The air was too humid for clothes
to really dry, so Jason generally ranged between drenched and damp. He felt certain they would all end up reeking of mold before the tropical trek was complete.

He saw a parrot with feathers like flower petals roosting on a nearby limb, head tucked to hide from the deluge. Thanks to his interest in animals, the staggering variety of wildlife in the jungle had been one of Jason’s compensations for the heat and the danger. Bright frogs, exotic birds, vivid lizards, vibrant insects, and numberless serpents contributed to the local fauna. Nedwin had pointed out a constrictor longer than a school bus, slithering among high limbs in a sinuous series of loops and curves.

Jason’s favorites were the monkeys. The diversity seemed limitless—short black hair; long golden hair; striped hair; tiny round ears; huge pointed ears; two arms; four arms; slender tails; bushy tails; stubby tails; colorful ridges; spurs on the ankles or wrists to aid in climbing—all ranging from the size of squirrels to the size of toddlers.

The plants exhibited comparable variety. Broad fanlike leaves; limp streamers; ferny fronds; corkscrewing tendrils; slim, pointed greenery; clusters of minute leaflets; and seemingly every other conceivable manner of foliage decorated the shrubs and trees. Jason had never pictured flowers of such striking hues—metallic, fluorescent, iridescent. Nor had he imagined such an assortment of carnivorous flora—grasping vines, clutching leaves, sucking tubes, stalks affixed to mouthlike pods, stinging bowls of sweet nectar, and sticky mats that folded around unsuspecting prey.

The pelting rain persisted until puddles had formed at frequent intervals along the ancient road. By the time the rain relented, the delegation had been thoroughly soaked. Even with all the wetness, Jason didn’t feel chilled. Nor did he feel refreshed. The air was too hot and sticky to feel much besides uncomfortable.

Galloran slipped and splashed to his knees in a brown puddle. He did not arise any wetter, but he was certainly muddier. His face remained composed, but Jason noticed one hand clenched into a fist, veins standing out on the back.

“You could take off the blindfold, Father,” Corinne said.

“It is better this way,” Galloran replied in his raspy voice. “My borrowed sight comes at a price. I must never rely too much on these eyes. They are a last resort.”

Jason felt a sting on his neck, like the bite of an insect. The tropical bugs had not bothered them so far, thanks to a lotion Nedwin had devised. Slapping the sting, Jason found a small dart, little more than a feathered needle.

Soft hisses came from the surrounding foliage. “Blowguns!” Nedwin called. “We’re under attack.”

Galloran tore the blindfold from his eyes and drew his sword. The others sprang into action as well. Nedwin and Ferrin raced to one side of the path, pushing through tall stalks of reddish wood similar to bamboo. Drake, Jasher, Tark, and Aram ran the other way, slashing foliage when necessary. Farfalee set an arrow to the string of her bow, as did Nollin. Io, Nia, Corinne, Rachel, and Jason all drew weapons, positioned near Galloran on the road.

As part of the group plunged into the jungle and the others scanned high and low, there came no more whispers of blowguns. Nor was there any sight or sound of enemies fleeing. After passing out of view for a few minutes, all of the delegation besides Nedwin returned to the road.

“They moved like ghosts,” Ferrin said. “Nedwin kept after them.”

The group remained alert as more time passed. No further attacks came, and eventually Nedwin returned. “I glimpsed green figures, apparently clad in ivy. They were too swift. Few can
outmaneuver me across difficult terrain, but these folk were my superiors. They fled through the trees like monkeys and across the ground like wildcats. I was fortunate to catch sight of them from a distance. I had no hope of reaching them. I was hit by three darts but can perceive no effects.”

“A dart pricked me on the hand,” Galloran said.

Jason, Corinne, Tark, Io, and Drake had all been hit on their skin. Several of the others had little darts sticking to their clothes. Nobody was feeling adverse reactions.

“What were the darts for?” Jason asked.

Galloran inspected the tiny pinprick on his hand, sniffing it and tapping it. “When last I visited Mianamon, I heard tales of treefolk who dwelled deep in the jungle. I never saw them, nor heard of any this far north. But times change.”

“One of the races of Certius?” Ferrin asked.

“Most likely,” Galloran agreed.

“Would they have used a slow-acting venom?” Ferrin asked.

“I sense no irritation,” Galloran said, perplexed, flexing his hand. “None at all. Why risk drawing near and firing darts? We’ll have to watch these injuries.”

Two days later, the first short tufts of moss appeared around the spots where the darts had pierced skin. The dense green growth looked as though it could be carelessly plucked away, but was actually anchored deeper in the flesh than a first glance could discern. A sharp knife could scrape away some of the moss, but it became apparent that a deep incision would be required to root it out. Of all who had been hit, only Io remained unaffected.

Showing no indication of pain, Nedwin rooted out the tiny patch of moss just above his wrist. By the next day, it had not only grown back, but the greenery had spread. Moss that had been
trimmed the day before had also returned and multiplied. The untouched patches had spread as well.

The moss inflicted no pain. When Jason stroked the fuzzy circle on his neck, the moss seemed to belong there as much as the surrounding hairs. But who knew what would happen as it continued to spread? At best, he would become a mossy freak. At worst, the moss would overwhelm his body, causing harm or death.

A couple of days later, Jason watched Nia munching on a large, glossy leaf as she walked. Scarcely a few weeks had passed since meeting her, but as promised, she already looked older. When they had met she had looked thirteen or fourteen. Now she looked sixteen or seventeen. She was a few inches taller, having surpassed both Rachel and Tark.

For the past week, the delegation had mostly eaten unusual fruit and vegetables foraged by Nedwin. But Io and Nia claimed food whenever they wanted it. “This jungle must look like one big salad to you,” Jason said.

“I’m a growing girl,” she replied, taking another bite. “Think I’ll pass you up?”

“I doubt it, since your dad was shorter than me.” He unconsciously rubbed his hand against the lush moss now covering most of the side and back of his neck. It had become a habit.

“How much does the moss bother you?” she asked.

“I kind of like the texture,” he admitted, realizing that he had been stroking it again. “But it’s gross how it keeps spreading. It’s really weird to think of it covering my face.”

“There must be a way to stop it,” Nia said.

Jason shrugged. “Nedwin knows more about these jungles than just about anyone. He has no idea what this moss is or what might cure it. I just hope it doesn’t start controlling us, like the goma worms.”

“What would moss want you to do?” Nia giggled. “Go sit on a rock by a stream?”

“What if I turn into a plant?” Jason asked, trying to keep his voice casual, although he was voicing a deep concern.

“I’ll make sure you get sunlight and water,” Nia said.

Jason tried to smile at the joke.

“It only seems to coat the surface,” Nia pointed out, her tone more consoling.

“After it covers everything, the moss might grow inward.”

“Hopefully, we can get help at the temple,” Drake said from behind. A dart had hit the side of his jaw, and the resultant greenery had spread into half a mossy beard. “The oracle and her people have dwelled in the jungle for a long time.”

They continued in silence for some time.

“Too bad Io couldn’t grow any moss,” Nia said. “He’d have a portable snack.”

Jason forced a chuckle. She was trying to lighten the mood. The effort made him think of her adaptability. She no longer had an accent, and had picked up on the nuances of how he and Rachel spoke and kidded. Under other circumstances, her comments would have amused him more. But the worry of parasitic moss slowly claiming his body was hard to shake. Still, she was trying, so he might as well meet her halfway. “He can always have some of my surplus.”