Seeds of Rebellion Read Free Page B

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