Plague of Mybyncia (42 page)

“Who are you?” her voice is soft.

“My name’s Matthew… but you can call me
Able.”

Mae frowns, still trying to piece this
together. “You’re human?”

“Last time I checked.”

Mae glances to Pratt and me. “There are other
humans?”

“You kind of blacked out on a lot. Here,” I
take her hands in mine, “sit up, we’ll explain everything.”

She allows me to pull her to a sitting
position and once she’s situated with her back to the cushions, I
being. In a long, continuous breath I explain what happened with
Hozfin and finding the other Harrizel survivors and about the three
tasks that Tucker will have to face tomorrow. When I’m done, Mae’s
hands fly to her mouth.

After a minute she drops them and turns to
the Rogue Leader. “And you
have
to?”

“It’s the only way to get the Nazual.”

The curtain flaps open and Sampson, Clarence
and Walker trickle in, the Fychu donning a hardened, irritated mask
while Clarence tries to hide his smirk. Walker struggles with
adjusting the new beige bandage across the bridge of his nose,
refusing to look anyone in the eye.

Clarence notices us all huddled in the corner
around Mae. “Ah!” he grins, making his way over. “You’re awake.
Nice to have you back.”

She smiles in return, leaning toward me to
whisper again, her sights focused on Walker, “Is that one of the
other humans?”

I nod.

“What happened to him? Did the Zingfinolds do
it?”

Sampson flinches but Reid is grinning.

“No, he… uh… had a little confrontation…” I
glance at Reid. “But it’s fine because it’s
not
going to
happen again.”

“With who?”

“Best we put it behind us,” Clarence smiles,
“it’s a big day tomorrow and we need to get our rest. Especially
you, young Rogue,” he places his hands on Tucker’s shoulders. “I
have no doubt you’ll earn us the right to those Nazual
flowers.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“And that’s all you’ll need. And all we can
ask.”

“If that’s it,” Sampson grates, still
aggravated, “then let us get some sleep. It’s been a long day for
all of us and we need our rest. Walker,” he glances around the
room, focusing on the jars of oversized fireflies, “how do we dim
their light?”

“Drape the cloth over them.”

Sampson reaches for the small pieces of dark
fabric under the jars. He drapes them over like instructed and one
by one, the light goes out, darkening the space to near
blackness.

We all find a place, the Rogues, Sampson and
Clarence claiming the floor while Mae, Pratt, Vix and I take to the
soft cushions toward the back. Walker is also on the red fabric,
but on the opposite side of the space, as far from me as possible.
Even with the lights out and all of us getting comfortable in our
positions, sleep is the last thing I want. Too much has happened.
This day, from beginning to end, has seemed like
forever
.

I can only imagine what tomorrow will
bring.

***

“
Why now?” Helen asks, tugging on her red
bandanna. Her hand shakes as she brings the cigarette back to her
mouth and inhales, a cloud of smoke rising as she pulls
away.

“
You are of age,” Granny Ruth explains.
“At twenty-five, you’re able to protect yourself mentally. Before
now… if you were exposed to the truth…you would be
vulnerable.”

“
You wouldn’t have the strength or
knowledge to block out intruders,” the man adds, his familiar mouth
frowning, “your inexperience would lead them straight to
you.”

“
Who?”

“
The others...”

“
Why is that bad? If they’re like
you…”

“
They’re not. There are some who wish to
do you harm.”

“
Why?”

“
Because of me. Because…
I
am to
blame.”

They fade as the silver eyes take over
everything, white flowing hair billowing around her face. She
encompasses everything, all light shining through her, her mouth
still as her voice rings, “You must awake now, Fallon.”

“
How?” I ask.

“
You must open your eyes. Awake and see
the truth.”

“
What truth?” my voice echoes around us,
but she is all I can see, all that is here.

“
Awake now… Awake and see the
truth…”

“Come on,” Clarence is shaking my shoulder.
“Time to get up.”

I peer past him, expecting to see the same
golden-pink coral, but I find a wooden ceiling instead. Confusion
rushes until I remember everything from yesterday, and that I’m in
Walker’s home, on Nerwolix. Wiping my eye with the heel of my hand,
I focus on the tiny cracks in the tree trunk where a dark sky
appears. It must be early—
really
early—and I’m still
utterly exhausted. I almost don’t recognize my own voice through a
yawn, “…It’s still dark outside.”

“The Zingfinolds like to start early. Come
on, rise and shine,” he rustles Pratt and Mae awake with a gentle
shake of their shoulders. “Big day.”

Pratt smacks her mouth while Mae’s arms shoot
into a full body stretch, a long, sleepy murmur escaping. Sampson
and most of the boys are already up moving but Reid is still
attempting to rouse Werzo and Jace from their comas. I sit up as
Walker walks past without a word, uncovering the jars of fireflies,
the room quickly brightening.

My leg feels much better—it might even be
completely back to normal. Encouraged by this, I move to a stand
but as I do so, my arms jet out and I stumble from being
off-balance. Reid flies forward, catching me before I fall back.
“You got it?”

“Yeah.”

“How does it feel?” he glances down to my
leg.

“Better. Almost healed.”

“She’ll probably be able to walk on it
unassisted by day’s end,” Sampson nods. “It’s not too bad,
actually.”

“So what happens at the end of the day?”
Pratt looks between Walker, Sampson and Clarence. But both
Dofinikes focus on Walker, just as interested in knowing as
Pratt.

“Celebration. Food and drinks. Dancing,” he
shrugs. “That’s about it.”

“I’m going to need you to pass these tasks,”
Jace cups Tucker on the shoulders. “I think we
all
could use
a little celebrating.”

“Find a tribes girl you like?” Pratt
grins.

“A few…” Jace scratches his chin, “but uh,
we’ll see tonight…”

“We need to head down,” Walker says curtly,
moving past the red curtain. Everyone follows but Reid throws his
arm around my hip, pressing me to him.

“Ready?”

I nod and together we trail outside behind
the others.

The sun is just starting to come up,
illuminating this tree-top city and setting a glow to the strange
lime-green, tear-drop shaped leaves that hang in different degrees.
Some fall low, almost to the ground while others keep close to
their top branches, the majority suspended between. The leaves
themselves are large—as big as my head, some bigger—but they hang
on narrow rope-like suspensions which match the same vibrant green
hue. Between them, zigzagging from top to bottom and in all
possible directions, are the enormous branches, hollowed and carved
to serve as bridged stairwells.

Walker leads us down two more of these wooden
passages until we come to a narrower tree, not large enough to be
anyone’s home. Five of the carved branches lead to it from all
separate directions.

“This is a post—it’s one of the main ways to
access the ground. There are posts like this one all over the
city,” Walker looks to Sampson and Clarence. “Pretty sure this is
what you used yesterday, right?”

Both nod.

“We could also go by lift, like I took
Fallon…” he starts but before he can say something, he shakes his
head and changes his mind. “Let’s go.”

Opening up a side hatch, Walker disappears
inside the trunk and the rest of the group follows quickly. By the
time Reid and I approach, I look into the hollowed trunk and find a
very deep winding stairwell literally carved into the tree’s
center. It doesn’t seem wide enough to fit two people per step, but
Reid refuses to let go of my hip.

“Come on…”

Together we struggle down the stairwell and
after a few minutes, finally reach the ground with the others.

“This way,” Walker starts weaving through the
thick trunks and we all trail after in complete silence. We pass
the hanging leaves, swerving in and out of their different heights,
a quiet stampede of anxious, hesitant footsteps pounding on the
forest ground. After a bit, the trees gradually thin out and soon,
they form an enormous misshapen circle. Walker has led us to a wide
clearing and pauses with Tucker in the center. “Here.”

“Where’s everyone else?” Pratt asks.

“They’re here.”

One by one the Zingfinolds drop from the
trees around us. With narrowed, challenging eyes, most tribesmen
possess a height similar to Warze, towering at seven or eight feet,
while the younger tribesmen stand with an equally solid stature of
five to six feet. All immensely furry, they sport a range of
hair—from dark brown to mustard yellow all the way up to an aged
gray and some, a stark, bright white. They’re clothed in the same
black and beige animal hide that hangs from their hips to their
knees, while the females don an extra wrap around their torso.

The Zingfinolds gather inward, creating a
massive circle that runs the perimeter of the clearing. Walker
remains with Tucker in the center.

Able joins my right side, motioning toward a
herd of young tribesmen. “Look.”

Perry moves in the center, shoulders back and
confident with a wicked smile in place. It’s as if she’s on her way
to witness a public execution and seems excited about it.

“Popular, I see.”

“For some unknown reason,” Able shakes his
head.

The rest of the Rogues fan out on either side
of us, except for Reid, who is walking with Sampson toward Tucker
in the center of the clearing. They’re only there for a quick
moment, exchanging a few words before they retreat back, leaving
Tucker and Walker alone. A low chatter of voices exchange, from the
Dofinikes and Rogues to the Zingfinold tribesmen but then, almost
eerily, everyone simultaneously silences.

“What’s happening?” I whisper to Able.

“Hozfin’s arrived.”

I scan the crowd, looking for him but don’t
find anyone to match his resemblance. “Where?”

Able glances around, gesturing up ahead.
“There.”

The crowd parts on the opposite side of the
enlarged circle, revealing the Zingfinold King. He’s in the same
red and black hide from yesterday, a crown of twigs and red and
blue berries resting atop his silver-brown head. Warze joins his
side, both scanning the lot with a fierce, intimidating scowl.
Finally, they rest their sights on Tucker and Walker in the middle,
King Hozfin breathing deep in his chest. He nods at Warze who moves
into the center to join the duo.

In a booming voice, Warze addresses Tucker so
that everyone can hear. “Strangers no stay with Zingfinolds. Three
tasks need complete to stay. Today, Tucker proves himself
tribesman… or proves himself dead.”

Walker whispers something to him and Tucker
merely nods.

Warze turns to face the hushed circle. “Is
volunteer to duel Tucker?”

“Is it a fight to the death?” I whisper to
Able.

“It’s supposed to be…”

“Any weapons?” I ask.

“Nope. Just hands.”

A tremor of fear runs through me as I try to
place myself in Tucker’s shoes. What is he thinking right now? Is
he focused on the Nazual, or trying to strategize his attack?

A solid minute passes and I don’t think
anyone’s going to volunteer until one of the tribesmen grouped
behind Perry steps forward. He’s younger, with much less fur, and
the little he does have is dark, almost jet-black. Even for his
youth, his body is hard, shaped similarly to the others but his
eyes, like the rest, shine bright blue. “Volunteer.”

“Zeed,” Warze nods.

Zeed bows, stepping further into the circle
as Walker whispers a few last words in Tucker’s ear. He leaves,
heading back into the perimeter of Zingfinolds. Walker casts me a
moment’s glance but looks away quickly, keeping focus on the three
in the center.

Warze has Zeed and Tucker face each other and
in his booming voice once again, speaks so the entire tribe can
hear. “Volunteer selected. Zeed win, Tucker die and others leave.
Tucker win, second task must be complete,” Warze looks between the
two of them. With a slight nod, he roars, “Duel is commence.”

Zeed strikes just as Warze finishes.

The blow hits Tucker square in his face,
blinding him, and the tribesman takes the opportunity of
distraction. Dropping to the ground, he swipes his leg so Tucker
flips to his back. The young Zingfinold leaps, aiming to land on
the Rogue Leader’s chest with his elbow, but Tucker rolls away just
in time and the tribesman hits the ground. Both are back on their
feet in seconds, a red stream dripping from Tucker’s nose.

They circle each other for a moment before
Zeed launches himself at the Rogue Leader again, attempting to
strike with hard blows from the base of his palm. But Tucker blocks
each attempt, gearing up to kick the tribesman in the stomach. Zeed
dodges the hit and Tucker swipes at air. Swiftly, the Zingfinold
flies behind the Rogue Leader and knocks him in the back with both
fists so Tucker falls to his knees, gasping. The young tribesman
moves in for the final hit but Tucker rolls away just as Zeed goes
to ram him with his knee. Before Zeed is able to stop him, Tucker
grabs his leg and tosses him to the ground. The young Zingfinold
hits it with a hard smack and Tucker races over before he’s able to
get up. Pinning him with both knees, the Rogue Leader clutches his
throat in one hand while striking his face repeatedly with the
other.