Chasing the Prophecy (Beyonders) by Brandon Mull

the last vestige of free civilization on the continent. They should take every measure to protect it.”
    “You can’t write us off like that,” Jason argued.
    “Can’t I?” Nollin asked innocently. “The oracle did. She made it abundantly clear that this venture has virtually no chance of success. It will end in our ruin.”
    “Then why are you participating?” Farfalee asked.
    Nollin faced her. “If we’re already doomed, why not chase one last pleasant illusion? This was the decision of my people, and I will hold true to it. But the rest of Lyrian should brace for disaster.”
    Rachel noticed the treefolk murmuring and shifting uncomfortably.
    “If we think like that, we probably will fail,” Jason said resolutely. “The oracle told us that we still have a chance to beat Maldor. We need to focus on that.”
    “You’re free to dream however you wish,” Nollin teased. “But don’t ask the rest of us to share your unrealistic—”
    “Then don’t ask us to share your weakness!” Jason interrupted.
    Nollin seemed taken aback.
    Jason plowed forward. “This isn’t really my fight. It’s not my world. I’m not helping because my people obligated me. I’m helping because Lyrian needs to be saved. It’s a good place with good people. There’s so much potential that will be lost if Maldor wins! I’ve met him. He wants to control all of Lyrian. He wants to rule it completely, for as long as he can, and since he could live hundreds of years, that could add up to a really long time. If he wins, Lyrianwill become a terrible place. He barely even tries to hide that. Stopping him is the right thing to do.”
    “Nobody is arguing that we should embrace Maldor,” Nollin said soothingly.
    “You’re arguing that stopping him is unrealistic,” Jason said. “But don’t you get what Galloran was saying? You’re with people who do unrealistic things. He’s killed three torivors! I spoke the Word to Maldor and then escaped Felrook. Rachel killed Orruck and we took his orantium. We all made it through Ebera. We’ve done lots of unrealistic things. Why not try for a few more?”
    The assemblage cheered. Rachel wanted to hug Jason. The mood in the room had gone from gloomy to jubilant in a matter of moments. Nollin surveyed the surrounding reactions with a condescending smile. He shook his head a little and raised his hands in surrender. The gesture reluctantly gave permission for the others to enjoy their delusion. They took him up on the offer.
    “Well said, Lord Jason,” Galloran approved, motioning for the crowd to quiet down. “This is not an hour for doubt or fear.” The blindfolded king drew his sword. The sleek blade flashed like a mirror. “I have in my custody four swords of torivorian make, won by besting lurkers in battle. I have owned two others, but they were lost when I was taken by Maldor. I will keep one of the four swords. My daughter Corinne will retain another. A third will travel into peril with Lord Jason of Caberton.”
    “Me?” Jason blurted.
    Rachel glanced at his shocked expression.
    “I wish I could give more,” Galloran apologized.
    “But I’m not the best swordsman in my group,” Jason protested. “Far from it. How about Jasher? Or Drake?”
    “According to the oracle, you must survive to reach Darian the Pyromancer,” Galloran said. “You must live to receive thevital information. Therefore you should be the best equipped of your party.”
    Jasher nudged Jason. “Go accept it,” the seedman whispered.
    Rachel nodded her agreement.
    “Okay,” Jason said, walking to Galloran. “Thank you—I can’t believe it. I’ll do my best.”
    Jason strapped the sword about his waist. Despite his height, he looked young.
    Tark began the cheering. Others noisily joined him, and the approval quickly swelled to a wholehearted level that surprised Rachel. She found herself caught up in spirit of the moment, whistling and clapping.
    Jason smiled bashfully. The cheers subsided.