Crusade Across Worlds (45 page)

Blovid produces a lit branch. Standing over
Jothkore, the Arizal Leader lowers the torch to his heel and a
hungry flame ignites, instantly swallowing the guard’s feet. Blovid
moves to the side and does the same to Clarence. The two are fully
enflamed in seconds and as a group, we all move back, warded off by
the fierce heat waves.

“Until we meet again, my friends,” Sampson
whispers, his words barely audible. Through the smoke and fire, his
eyes lock on mine. There’s something in them. Something that wasn’t
there before. Something lingering besides deep-rooted sorrow and
guilt. Surprise? Disbelief? In all the time I’ve known him, Sampson
has never looked at me like this before, like he’s truly seeing me
for the first time. I want to ask about the revelation, but Vix
cuts off my thought with a final bow of her head.

“Aya Vella,” she whispers.

Blovid follows and then, one by one,
everyone offers the same parting words before retreating from the
flickering fire, giving it room to grow. A dark smoke plume forms
above the cackling and crackling and eventually, only five of us
remain. Reid threads our fingers together and squeezes. He doesn’t
tug or initiate a move, hoping to pull me along with him. He simply
waits, gently running his thumb over my skin as a constant reminder
that he’s here with me.

“Norhra…” Ehan gently calls to his sister.
But she doesn’t turn. She doesn’t even look at him; her eyes are
fixated on Clarence’s burning body, her own trembling form less
than a foot away. Ehan tries again. “Norhra.”

This time her gaze meets his.

“We must return home.”

She gives no indication that she’s heard
him. Her focus shifts back to the ground and through her nose, she
inhales. Finally, her head rounds into an agreeable nod.

“You will be staying with Queen Ariana for
the time being?” Ehan turns to Blovid.

“For the time being. We will hold a
gathering shortly to discuss…” the Arizal Leader risks a glance at
Sampson, “…to discuss what to do next.”

“Do?” Norhra’s trance is broken as she
glares at Blovid, and then over at the Fychu. “What can we do? We
have lost. It is over. The Vermix have won.”

“It is not over,” the Arizal Leader
corrects. “It is not over until the end and this is far from the
end. But,” he frowns at the pyre, sorrow filling his eyes once
more, “it is not the time for that discussion.” Blovid turns his
attention to Ehan. “I will be in touch.”

The Nerwo nods and soothingly clutches his
sister’s arm. Norhra’s lip trembles as she allows her brother to
pull her from the fire. Ehan focuses on Clarence once more and
silently, the siblings disappear.

Sampson, Reid and I haven’t moved. We
continue to watch the pyre, mesmerized by its light and heat and
power. Somewhere in there is the great-great-grandfather I’d just
barely begun to know. And never will now, except through stories
from those who knew him. Like Sampson and Vix and Norhra. I’ll
never get another chance to talk to him and this thought, which has
been playing over and over in my head, sucks all the air from my
lungs.

Clarence is gone.

Instead of breaking down all over again,
something inside me hardens. The pain, though an anguish unlike any
other, is pushed to the back and surrounded by a thick wall of
steel and promise.

I will make this right.

“Fychu,” Blovid says, lightly touching
Sampson’s shoulder. But he doesn’t acknowledge the gesture. Sampson
remains frozen, stuck in his post, his hypnotized eyes watching as
his oldest friend is cremated before him. “Fychu,” the Arizal
Leader tries again, “it is time we return to Mybyncia.”

Sampson continues to stare ahead. He remains
transfixed by the fire and it’s only when Blovid leans in,
whispering a soft reminder that the ‘kids’ are here, that Sampson’s
head slowly rolls into a brief nod. The Arizal Leader turns to
us.

“Vix, Fallon, if you do not mind
helping—”

“Fallon, would you stay a moment, please?”
Sampson’s quiet voice startles us.

The others stare at me as Blovid and Vix
exchange glances. Other than the eulogy, it’s the first thing
Sampson has said since we arrived in Mybyncia, and his words seem
to carry an extra weight. He doesn’t want to speak to Reid or
Blovid or even return to get council from Qippert…but
me
.
Sampson wants to talk to me.

Reid brings my knuckles to his mouth for a
kiss. With a reassuring nod, he makes his way over to the others
who are bunching up around Blovid and Vix. After a moment, everyone
disappears and it’s just Sampson and I. But he doesn’t say
anything. He doesn’t even look at me. He continues to watch the
fire crackle higher and higher, black smoke funneling to the blue
sky above as his friends disappear before him.

I know that whatever I’m going through
doesn’t hold a stick to what Sampson must be feeling. Even though
I’m related to Clarence, Sampson knew him his entire life—for over
two hundred years. I knew my great-great-grandfather for only five
months. If my heart is breaking, Sampson’s must be ripping into
shreds. I’m not sure why he wanted me to stay. I don’t know what I
can do for him, what kind of solace I might offer. I break my focus
and look out onto Ellae. Mere fragments remain, buried in vines and
overlapping greenery. This is where they all shared the best part
of their lives. This is where Clarence created the family he loved
more than anything. I slip a hand over my stomach.

“I know about the baby.”

My head snaps up.

“And I know about Reuzkimpart too,” he says,
emotionless. I’m about to ask how he knows when his mouth curves
up. “You really must learn to control your outgoing thoughts,” he
tries for a smile, but falls short. Lifting his attention from the
pyre, Sampson settles it on me. “I don’t want you to think this is
your fault, any of it.”

I want to contradict him, but can’t find the
words.

“Clarence…” Sampson closes his eyes at the
name. He takes a breath and tries again. “Clarence only wanted the
best for you. If he hadn’t gotten there in time, if he wasn’t able
to save you…he would have blamed himself for the rest of his life,
which wouldn’t have been very long. I can assure you.”

“I failed him.”

“You failed nothing.
I
failed him. I
failed the Arizals,” Sampson’s words tighten in anger and remorse
and possibly shame. “If you are truly meant to kill Reuzkimpart,
then you have not failed. You have not failed because you continue
to live. This war is not over.
You
are the key to our
victory, Fallon. It’s you.”

“What if I can’t do it?”

“If it is meant to be, it will happen.”

Disappoint and regret wash over me. “I
thought I was supposed to kill him yesterday. I thought that would
be the end.”

“If it did not happen on Larupip, then it is
meant to happen somewhere else.”

“And you really think that I’m supposed to
do it? That I
can
do it?”

“I believe so,” he nods. “Yes. It all makes
sense.”

“What does?”

“You. Coming into our lives. Everything
makes sense now. I’m not promising it’s going to be easy. In fact,
it’s only going to get much harder,” he rests his hand on my
shoulder. “But I believe you will do it. I believe you will end
this war for us.”

I let out a breath.

If Sampson believes in me, maybe I can do
this. Maybe I wasn’t supposed to kill Reuzkimpart yesterday because
it wasn’t how he was meant to die. So when? And how?

A thought strikes me.

“The Gifts.”

“What about them?”

“We need to get them back. I need to use
them.”

“Fallon…” he sighs, the guilt and remorse
returning, “once I retrieve them, they’ll be out of my hands
again.”

“Not before you pass them to me. I’ve
already looked into the last piece of the Glass Chamber. It showed
me my fate—now I need to do the same with the Floating Ruby and the
Shadow Bag. I can
ask
how I’m supposed to kill Reuzkimpart
and the Shadow Bag will give me what I need.”

Sampson frowns, playing out the possibility
in his head. No one is ever supposed to use the Gifts but
Reuzkimpart will, if he hasn’t done so by now. He’ll be looking for
a way to kill the Arizals or stop the prophecy from occurring.
Maybe both. Sampson looks like he wants to argue but in his moment
of hesitation, I go on.

“It’s why they’re there—you’ve said it
countless times yourself. The Gifts exist to keep the world in
balance. That’s what I’m trying to do. With Reuzkimpart gone, this
war will be over. I just need to know how to kill him.”

He scratches his chin. After a long,
deliberate moment, he finally nods. “It will be difficult. I should
have little trouble reclaiming them, but passing them to you before
Keller and Thias—”

“Sampson,” I look him straight in the eyes,
“I need them. I think that’s why we found them in the first place.
We were meant to use them…
I
was meant to use them. I was
meant to end this.”

The Fychu walks a small lap, stroking his
chin. “Then you shall have them. It may not be for long…but I will
assure you’re given a few minutes with each Gift.”

“Thank you.”

Sampson’s eyes drop to my stomach. “It will
have to be done sooner rather than later. You shouldn’t take such
risks the farther you are into your condition.” He looks up. “When
are you planning on telling Reid?”

“I don’t know.”

“I understand human females begin to show in
the first three months. You have some time before he finds out for
himself…but Fallon…I wouldn’t wait too long.”

“Why not?”

“Like your marriage, news of this kind
brings hope, brings possibility for the future. I think everyone
needs a little of that right now.”

“There’s a chance…” I start but the words
won’t come. For the first time since finding out, I’m fiercely
protective, fiercely afraid of losing what I haven’t even felt.
“It’s still so early. What if…?”

“I understand your hesitation but I don’t
think you should be alone in experiencing this. Reid will love and
support you no matter what happens and honestly,” Sampson sighs, “I
think it will give him the strength he needs. And that, in turn,
will strengthen you. And that is what we need.”

I nod.

A soft wind blows, rustling the Rinzal’s
blossoms and sending a cool breeze through the afternoon air. It
flies over the pyre, which continues to crackle softly. The fire
doesn’t reach as high as it did before, but with the new breeze,
the black smoke billows northeast, redirected toward Ellae.

My gaze falls on the pyre. “What do we do
about this?”

“Nothing,” Sampson looks to the sky and
inhales. “It will rain soon. We should leave.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll figure out what to do,
Fallon,” he shifts towards me with a reassuring smile. “All will be
well.”

“Thank you all for being here,” Sampson
says.

The Dining Hall falls quiet. Even though he
called this meeting, no one really expected Sampson to do much of
the talking, let alone lead the discussion. After our short
conversation following the funeral yesterday, the Fychu retreated
back into his non-communicative state, listening while others spoke
and offering little to the conversation. Even Reid seems shocked.
No one thought Sampson would be up for this, and the sight of him
standing while the rest of us sit around the table is enough to
have everyone’s attention.

I’ve only caught a little of what’s been
going on. Like the Fychu, I’ve closed myself off to everything that
doesn’t have to do with losing Clarence. Or finding out about this
baby. The Three Worlds still exist somewhere outside of all that,
but I haven’t been forced to acknowledge it. Not until now.

With a heavy heart, I notice King Hozfin’s
absence. A bandaged Warze sits between Tucker and Walker, the white
cloth stretching across his midsection, his expression grim. Tucker
doesn’t look much better. I didn’t notice it the last time I saw
him. Half his face is bruised and one arm is completely hidden
under the same kind of white cloth used to bandage Warze’s torso. I
have no idea what happened to the other Zingfinolds and I’m hoping
I won’t have to find out. It’s more blood on my hands. More
death.

Ehan and Norhra look as beat up as they did
yesterday, but Ghion and Leoh have come along for additional
support. Across from them, Queen Ariana and Chancellor Keller sit,
along with Salva and Maris, all looking equally exhausted as though
they have spent the entire last century awake. Qippert and Werzo
also managed to make it over, though both still have a long road of
recovery ahead of them. Like Warze and Tucker, each sit in their
own wrapped bandages, a faint stain of pink showing through the
white cloth.

It feels empty without Clarence.

Like we shouldn’t start the discussion yet.
I’m tempted to ask to wait, but there’s no point. We’d be waiting
forever and the time to address what to do next is now.

Sampson turns to Ariana. “I must express our
gratitude for hosting us once more. I understand the Muskos are
still an ongoing threat, and that the last thing you need is to
shelter fleeing Arizals, but we are without home and in much need
of your aid. Your generosity and hospitality have not gone
unnoticed.”

Ariana, solemn-faced like her mother had
been, merely nods.

Sampson mirrors the gesture and takes a deep
breath. He looks up and out, addressing the rest of the table. “I
say cannot say anything to change what has happened. The
Vermix—Reuzkimpart—has gained possession of both Gifts. We do not
know his exact intentions for using them, nor what will occur once
he does.

“It may seem as if we have lost. And, for
the time being, we have. But time is an ever-passing thing. And
although the battle has concluded, the war, nor our will to fight
in it, has not. Reuzkimpart has the Gifts. We cannot change this.
We can merely take them back.”