Plague of Mybyncia (3 page)

Someone screams.

My eyes dart to Pratt but she stares back at
me, hands still clasped to her ears, just as confused as me.

It’s Mae.

She’s to the right and retreated so far that
she’s been separated from us by a Vermix. Lunging for her, it drops
seconds later in a heap, but she only stares at the dead Dofinike,
wide-eyed and in shock. In a panic, she takes off in the opposite
direction, flying through a net of the ivy-fauna and disappearing
through a new set of limestone walls.

“Mae!” I jump to my feet and race after her,
hearing my own name called.

But she’ll be dead if she disappears, so I
have to stop her while I have the chance. For someone so short,
she’s
fast
, dodging in and out of boulders in a panic and
it’s taking all my speed to keep up. Selecting another route at
random, she staggers to a stop, her body frozen and I nearly crash
into her.

Then I see it—the something up ahead feasting
on a Dofinike corpse.

Face down on the bicep, it feeds with urgent
fervor, pleasurable grunts escaping as it rips into the
greenish-brown flesh. Mae gasps and the creature slows its
voracious chewing, raising its irate orange eyes to us. It looks
like a woman, except for the sage skin and red, matted mane
imbedded with bits of seaweed and sand that falls past her
shoulders. Pulling away from the Vermix, she sweeps her tongue over
her teeth, lapping up the remaining blood.

“Get behind me,” I shuffle Mae to my
back.

The creature rises to a complete stand, bits
of skin still hanging from her mouth. Her orange eyes pour over us
and I know that at any second she’s going to launch herself and Mae
and I will be dead. What do I do? I can tell Mae to run—give her a
chance—but something tells me this
thing
will be able to
kill both of us quite easily in a matter of seconds.

Shit
.

Settling into a lunging position, her orange
eyes focus on me. Holding my breath, I squeeze Mae’s hand behind
me, praying for a final miracle. But as the creature leaps forward
and I know I’m about to be ripped to pieces, Booker and Jace barrel
into the moving force, all three tumbling to the wall. I watch in
horror as she tosses them aside with ease, jumping to her feet
again with a voracious growl. Jace leaps on her back and they
struggle before she throws him into a stampeding Booker, the two
hitting the ground again. Her focus flies to us, but just as she
takes off, a nearly-invisible net flies around her, tripping and
trapping her to the ground.

But I barely see it.

With a hard slam, Mae and I are thrown to the
ground, Reid’s body covering ours, sheltering us from the impending
attack. He holds us here, focusing on the commotion to his left and
once satisfied, he climbs off, extending his hand. I take it first
and Reid pulls me to my feet before offering Mae the same
assistance. Hesitantly, she allows him to pull her to a wobbling
stand.

“You two okay?”

I’m still piecing together the last few
minutes. I think I manage a nod but he’s gone before I see him
leave, jetting over to Sampson and the others. My arm bristles in
agony and as I look down, I find the bandage wrapped from the
Vermix’s whip is blotched in red again. It hasn’t bled since the
day of the invasion, when Reid and I were chased through the
tunnels and a Vermix followed us in. His whip lashed out and cut a
shallow crater down the length of my forearm. I must have landed on
it when Reid knocked us to the ground because it’s opened again.
Covering the damp material with my hand, I make for the hissing
creature wrestling under Qippert’s net.

“You will
stand down
,” he commands.
“Queen Ravan and Chancellor Keller are expecting them.”

The creature pauses immediately, replying in
a long bouquet of sing-song-like sounds.

“This is Fychu Smypse, Clynse and the humans
of Harrizel. They are allies to Blovid and her majesty. They are to
see
no
harm when here.”

She replies with another series of soft
sounds, glancing around to us.

Qippert nods and removes the net, “Then do it
quick. They are expected immediately.”

She rises and with a final scan, scampers
back up the limestone walls, disappearing behind a lush ceiling of
shrubbery.

“What
was
that?” Jace pants, hands on
his hips.

“A mayan,” Qippert explains, “a female
Mybyncian. She is alerting the others of your arrival. The queen
and chancellor will know soon. Come,” he turns to Sampson and
Clarence, “we must go immediately. We are nearly to the
entrance.”

Qippert rushes past the next few boulders,
Reid sandwiched between Sampson and Clarence who go back and forth
about the Vermix attack. The Rogues follow behind them and then
it’s Pratt and I, and a few feet back, a shaking Mae.

“Fallon!” Pratt grasps me. “Your arm!”

Reid whips around, followed quickly by the
others, all eyeing the red stain before I’m able to hide it. They
halt, Sampson making his way to me and lifting my arm to
investigate. “Fallon… when did this open?”

“Its fine,” I pull back. “Don’t even feel
it.”

“It shall be attended to before the feast,”
Qippert says. “Please, we must get inside. It is right this
way.”

Guilt sweeps Reid’s face but he moves along
quickly, following Sampson as we’re led through two more walls
which narrow into a carved shelter ahead. Qippert enters first,
then Clarence and the Rogues. Reid and Sampson wait, allowing
Pratt, Mae and I into the dank darkness first, before following us
in. Suddenly, the three Callixes traveling with us—including the
one Reid gave to me, which I’ve kept around my wrist—glow like
hidden flashlights, lighting our way with a soft, rosy hue.

“Through here,” Qippert calls from the front,
steering us into a densely shadowed passage, water dripping from
the stone ceiling and down the dark walls. It hits the ground in
wet rhythmic beats, creating a moist, echoing chime.

Forced to travel in a single line now,
Sampson tries keeping to my side, peering down at my arm. “We’ll
apply some Vilbrees on it later.”

“You have some?”

“A little. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to
use it so soon, but that arm will need something if it reopened so
easily. Though…” and now he sighs to himself, “they’ll probably
have the Healers take a look.”

“Here we are,” Qippert calls, leading us into
an enormous space with wet, bulbous stone walls and a giant pool of
glistening blue. Besides the Callixes, the only light reflects off
the shimmering water, illuminating the cave in a glowing cobalt
tint. Qippert points to the center pool. “This is the entry down to
the Holding Station. Salva and Gala are already waiting.”

“What are we suppose to do? Jump?” Werzo
snorts, “Uh—newsflash, we don’t breathe underwater.”

Qippert exchanges looks with Sampson and
Clarence before returning focus to the Rogue. “Yes, I am aware. It
is merely a mode of transportation, designed specifically for
non-Mybyncian use.”

“So we’ll be able to breathe?” Pratt steps
closer.

“Just as well as me, and I need air just as
much as you.”

“Where exactly does this lead?” I ask.

“The Holding Station—a very similar
atmosphere,” he holds his hands up, gesturing to our wide, wet
cavern, “except, much deeper. And from there, we will head to
Pryncbia’s Docking Station in the Foreign Headquarters or, the
FH.”

“And once there?”

“Salva and I will present you to the queen
and chancellor who should be expecting you very soon. Quickly now,
I shall go first, then the rest,” he nods at Sampson and Clarence
before jumping in the pool. Swallowed by the glistening blue, he
disappears and the surface stills again.

“Is this really safe?” I ask Sampson.

“Indeed. And he’s right, we need to make this
quick so,” he motions me over, “ladies first?”

Gulping, I step up to the pool’s edge just as
Mae starts shaking behind me. “No… I can’t, I can’t do it.”

“Mae?” Clarence rushes over.

“I can’t go down there,” her bulging eyes
focus on the pool. “No, I can’t… I can’t… I can’t.”

“You’ll be able to breathe just fine.”

“I can’t. I’ll… I’ll—”

“Fallon, go,” Sampson nods. “We’ll get her
down there.”

My heart races as I peer into the solid abyss
below. There’s no light on the other end and with Mae carrying on,
it’s harder to make the jump. Will I survive this?

Please don’t let me die.

Holding my breath, I take a step over the
edge and submerge completely.

At first I think I’m dead—or will be any
second, the water about to pollute my lungs. Except it’s not water.
Not really. It’s cool and fluid and coats my skin, but doesn’t
flood my nose or mouth. Still refusing to inhale, I try saving all
my oxygen and it’s only when I think I’m going to pass out that I
allow a deep breath, air finally filling my lungs as they should.
Relieved not to be drowning, I finally open my eyes and take a look
around. It’s too dark to really see anything other than the
enclosed tunnel is at an angle, pulling me down. I’m not
falling—I’m
sliding
. My feet are nearly parallel with the
rest of me and I can see them if I left my head. I can also see my
rifle and the tips of my fingers down by my hips too. I’m not sure
how long I’ve been going when my feet hit something hard and I’m
upright again.

I’m in the same sort of space—a low lit
cavern with wet, dripping walls. Three torches line the room and
under the farthest one, Qippert and one of the sage-skinned
creatures converse in quiet words. Both look up at my arrival just
as Pratt pops in behind me, quickly followed by each of the Rogues.
Werzo is the last to arrive and doing a quick scan, I turn to
Pratt.

“Where’s Mae?”

“Having a panic attack,” she frowns. “I think
they’re going to have to subdue her.”

“She’s freaking out is what she is,” Jace
chuckles. “
Big
time.”

Clarence appears next, landing on his feet.
He shakes his head with a light laugh. “Well that was fun.”

“What happened?” Reid crosses his arms over
his printed green tee.

“Had to knock the poor kid out. She wouldn’t
have come otherwise.”

“You knocked her out?” Pratt’s jaw
dropped.

“Well, not
physically
,” Clarence
laughs. “But there’s a certain pinched nerve that will send you
easily and painlessly into sleep.”

“Is that safe?” I ask.

“I’ve seen Sampson do it a hundred
times.”

“But through there?” I motion to the tunnel’s
entrance—a dark, nearly invisible hole in the wall.

“Yes, perfectly safe. Which reminds me,” he
turns just in time to catch Mae’s limp body flying into the room.
Sampson arrives seconds later and places his thumb and finger
around the back of her neck. Mae’s eyes dart open as she convulses
in Clarence’s hold. “Careful, there.”

“Fychu,” Qippert approaches with his sage
skinned partner. She looks like the other woman, the mayan from the
surface. Except for the few light freckles dusting her shoulders
and nose, and her navy hair which sits shorter, just above her
jaw-line, they could be twins. Qippert moves closer to Sampson. “We
are all set.”

“So are we,” he watches as Clarence puts down
a fumbling Mae. He pats her hand, “You needn’t worry. It’s behind
you now.”

“Yes,” Qippert clears his throat, turning to
the mayan at his right. “This is Salva. She will be aide to the
females during your stay.”

“We get an aide?” I raise a brow.

“To assist with anything you might need in
adjusting to the environment. The males will remain with the Fychu,
under the guidance of Chancellor Keller.”

“The chancellor shouldn’t have to spend his
time babysitting,” Sampson shakes his head.

“Not at all. He looks forward to seeing you;
says it has been a long time since you have last visited.”

“Well before the Ellae Massacre so… around a
hundred and twenty years. I expect a visit
is
long
overdue.”

“Salva has your gear ready,” Qippert glances
at her, “so once you are suited up, we shall be on our way.”

“Gear?” Tucker asks.

“You will need protective wear for the next
phase of transport.”

“No more slides?” Pratt frowns.

“Unfortunately not,” Clarence motions around.
“We’re in the Holding Station now. The city is still a ways
below.”

“How far?” Reid asks.

“Enough to crush your body from the
pressure,” Clarence grimaces. “
Deep
.”

“Mybyncia cannot operate any closer to the
shore,” Sampson says. “She is a submerged people—a submerged
World
. Here we are,” he motions to Salva who’s passing
around a black suit and dome to everyone. “Okay, you want to apply
your head gear like this,” he places the helmet-like object over
his head, instructing us to do the same. Once everyone is finished,
Sampson’s voice rings through the dome like an intercom. “Very
good. And now the suits…”

Coal black, they’re made of a heavy, stretchy
material and have a long strap wound around the waist and across
the top of the torso, tiny hooks distanced every few inches.
Climbing into the body suit, Sampson does the same, instructing how
to fashion the garment around ourselves and finally, when we’re all
done, the thick black material covers our entire bodies, right up
to the neck where the headgear starts.

“These are actually quite ingenious devices,”
Sampson says. “All of Mybyncia’s inhabitants know and can speak
English—that doesn’t necessarily mean they’re willing or wanting
to. We are on
their
lands, remember. When we meet the queen
and her council, we’ll be addressed in their native tongue. These,”
he pinches the black material, “will translate into English so
you’ll know what’s being said.”