Crusade Across Worlds (8 page)

Able, dressed in the same tribal gear as
Reid, runs a hand through his short copper hair, a beaming smile on
his face as he describes something to Mae. Mid-sentence, the Rogue
swipes a black strand behind her ear. Mae stiffens, blushes and
then fiddles with her tee-shirt while Able continues on with the
story.

Jace, Werzo, Booker and Tucker look on with
a smirk. The four Rogues stand together, arms crossed, laughing
quietly over something. Jace leads the joke while Werzo shakes his
head, Booker and Tucker listening with genuine interest.

Jace says something and the other three
laugh. The blonde Rogue looks up and locks eyes with me. “Hey,
Fallon!”

The others lift their heads, smiling. God, I
missed them. Each and every one. Even Werzo, who looks relieved
that I arrived. He must be ready to eat. But not everyone is here.
Confused, I scan the space. “Where’s Sampson? And Clarence?”

“With King Hozfin.” The Rogue Leader leaves
Jace’s side and moves closer. “They’re helping prepare the feast.
Should be ready any minute.”

“Good,” Reid winks at me. “Just in
time.”

“Do we actually get to talk to you now?”
Able walks over. “Been waiting all afternoon to talk to my
bestie.”

“Give the man a break,” Jace laughs. “It’s
been three months.”

“Three
long
months,” Werzo whines.
“All those advanced sparring drills and laps and…” he runs his
hands down his face in exhaustion. “Didn’t think I’d survive.
Please never leave again,” he pegs me with a stern look.
“Okay?”

“Guys,” Reid snaps.

I can’t help but laugh and with the sound,
some of the tension eases on Reid’s face. I smile at him, and then
set my sights on the massive, quiet Rogue in the back. Built like a
linebacker, it’s obvious why Booker was chosen as security back on
Harrizel. His charcoal skin ripples with muscles from his thick,
wide shoulders down to his impressive thighs and calves. “How have
you been, Booker?”

“Not bad, Boss Lady. Working like the others
to prepare for the invasion,” he scratches his right arm, which is
tattooed from shoulder to wrist, just like the rest of the
Rogues.

“I see you guys have acquired some
interesting art.”

“Zeed did it,” Pratt says, proud.

Zeed
.

It takes me a moment to register the name.
When I do, I flinch and glance at Tucker. “Zeed as in ‘the Zeed who
you beat the shit out of’?”

“Hey—that was during the trials,” the Rogue
Leader reminds me. “It doesn’t count.”

“So what do they mean?” I motion at the ink.
“The designs?”

“From here to here,” Tucker points from his
elbow to his wrist, “is basically the story of how and when we
arrived. But from here to here,” he indicates the elbow to the
shoulder, “are traits about ourselves. Age, character, that sort of
thing.”

“Cool.”

“We weren’t allowed to get them,” Pratt
huffs.

“Technically,” Mae clears her throat, her
words tender as always, “we
could
have, but the boys didn’t
think—they thought that maybe Pratt should wait until she was a
little older to decide.”

“Totally unfair!” she throws her arms up and
jumps on the bed.

“I told her we could wait a year or two and
I’d get one with her.”

“You did?” Able asks.

“Yeah,” Mae nods, a slight frown forming
along with an embarrassed blush. “Why?”

He shrugs. “Didn’t think you were into that
sort of thing.”

“If and when you guys go, I’ll get one too.
Until then, we’ll all be uncool together.” I focus on Pratt.
“Okay?”

She shrugs.

“And I guess you noticed your boy grew out
some facial hair?” Jace smirks, glancing from Reid to me.

“Yes. I did notice.”

“You like it?”

“Jace,” Reid sighs.

“What? I’ve been curious about this since
you decided to let it grow,” he looks back to me, waiting for an
answer. “Well?”

“It’s…” I grin, not wanting to give away how
much I love it, “… pretty hot.”

“Nice.”

“Ew,” Pratt frowns. “Can we
not
talk
about Fallon and Reid? I want to know what happened with you!” She
looks at me. “Where did you go? What did you do?”

“All good questions,” Clarence pokes his
head past the curtain, “but I’d like to hear the answers as well.
Why don’t you all come on down to Hozfin’s? Food’s just about
done.”

Werzo races for the curtain first, followed
immediately by Jace, and once the rest of us have piled out of
Tucker’s, we set off across the enormous branch-bridges and toward
the largest home in Zinnollo.

I run my hand along the wooden railing,
tracing the grainy cracks and grooves with my fingertips. Wood
feels different than rock, and rock has been all I’ve known
recently. I inhale the sweet forest nectar with a sigh. Part of me
still can’t believe I’m here, that I’m actually back on Nerwolix,
that my three months are over.

And it feels
amazing
to be back.

Especially as I smell the food wafting from
the king’s home. My mouth is already watering, my stomach growling
in anticipation. On Arosin, I only ate vegetation, nothing more
than cabbage-like plants that grew in small tufts along the
underground cavern walls. It may have been awhile, but I still
remember the delicious scent of the barbecued Horrop. Is this what
I’ve been missing out on all this time?

Following Pratt into King Hozfin’s home, I
inhale the delicious aroma, my eyes growing wide at the amount of
food spread among the floor. Bowls filled with blue and red berries
sit next to wooden platters piled high with steaming roasted Horrop
meat. Orange liquid nearly overflows green and yellow melon-cups
that sit littered throughout the feast and all around them, jars of
the oversized fireflies, like a dinner table lit with opulent
candles.

“Fallon,” Sampson gestures me in, “please,
find a spot. You are, of course, the guest of honor.”

I’m not more than a foot into the king’s
home when arms fly around me, halting my progress with a tight
squeeze. I don’t know who’s hugging me until I catch a glimpse of
his bright orange hair. “
Walker
.”

I knew someone was missing from
Tucker’s—someone I thought should be there.

The tribesman was never part of the Rogues.
Actually, he used to work for the Kings when we were living on
Harrizel. But after landing here with Vix, Walker completed the
three tasks and earned himself a place among the Zingfinolds, and
the boys have more or less warmed up to him. Except Reid. Even
though it was an order from the Kings, Walker slept with Ansley
while she was dating Reid, causing Reid’s eventual resignation from
the Rogues. He’s become part of our group, and there is a
possibility he could continue to be. If only Reid didn’t hate him
so much.

Walker lets go and pulls back. “Sorry I
wasn’t there earlier. Wish I could’ve seen you with the others.” He
huffs and then rolls his eyes. “Hozfin needed a second opinion on
something.” He leans in with a whisper and a wink. “He doesn’t
always agree with Warze.”

“Good thing he has ideas to bounce off of
you.”

Walker winks again.

Like Reid, Tucker and the rest of the
Rogues, Walker is dressed in the traditional brown Zingfinold gear
that hangs from his hips to his knees. His chest and arms are
exposed, and like the others, tribal ink runs the length of his
right arm. “It’s good to see you, Walker.”

“It’s really good to see you,” a genuine
smile works its way across his face.

“And it’s good to see me and Jace and Pratt
and everyone else,” Werzo nods, licking his lips as he scans the
bountiful selection on the floor. “But most of all, it’s good to
see all the food. So uh… can we hurry this up?”

“Are you never not hungry?” Walker
huffs.

“Nope. Never.”

“Why don’t you cool it there, Werzo,”
Clarence sighs. “This is for Fallon’s homecoming. Let her say hi to
everyone.”

“I don’t want the food to get cold.”

“It’ll be fine,” he rolls his eyes, looking
to me with a grin. “Fallon—anywhere you want to sit.”

I select a spot in front of a huge slab
piled high with roasted meat. Reid immediately snags the seat on my
right while Pratt selects the space to my left. The Rogues,
Dofinikes and Zingfinolds all situate themselves in an oblong
circle around the impressive display that takes up nearly the
entire floor space. I inhale the delicious aroma, eager to dive in,
when I look up and realize that this is the first time I’m
reuniting with everybody at once.

My chest constricts with glee.

With the little I’ve said to the Dofinikes,
it pales in comparison to the nothing I’ve shared with the
Zingfinolds, the tribal occupants of Nerwolix’s southern terrain.
This is the first time I’ve seen any of them since I left three
months ago. King Hozfin and I never got particularly close, but it
is nice to see Warze—his bulky second-in-command. If not for Warze,
then Jace, Booker and I would’ve been dead during the Vermix
invasion. Multiple times. He led us through the infested forest and
high up into the trees so we could find a moment of shelter while
Reid found his way to us. It’s nice to see the warrior’s furry
face, even if it isn’t smiling. Zeed—I think it’s Zeed—sits next to
Warze but chats with Pratt on his right, the two lost in secret
whisperings. A low buzz of casual conversation hovers in the air
and my chest tightens again at the sight.

This
.

I’ve missed this. I’ve missed being here
with everyone. Being part of it. If not Reid, then
this
is
what I missed most while away on Arosin. Being part of this
family.

“With your permission,” Sampson turns to the
Zingfinold king, “I would like to say a few words.” He nods once
and the Fychu looks around at the rest of us, the corners of his
mouth lifting. “It has been three months since Reuzkimpart invaded
Nerwolix. A dark time for us all, we lost many friends and continue
to mourn for them daily. The worst of this war is yet to come, and
we must prepare for that soon. But today, we welcome back not only
a friend, but a family member that has been gone far too long. She
has helped guide us, inspire us, and has played a crucial role in
our survival since Clarence first brought her to Harrizel,” Sampson
finds me with a smile. He selects a green cup made from a melon
half and everyone reaches for the one in front of them as well.
“Fallon, your absence did not go unnoticed. You may have left for
an important reason, but you were sorely missed. Let it be the last
time you leave, so we may not know the devastation of your
departure again. Some pain is bearable only once,” a quick flash of
anguish passes over his features, but it’s gone immediately.
“Welcome home.”

“Welcome home!” Everyone cheers and takes a
swig.

I look at Reid and he winks.

“So now can we dig in?” Werzo eyes the food,
running his tongue over his bottom lip.

“Not until the guest of honor has taken her
first bite,” Clarence reminds him. “You know the procedure.”

Werzo pouts again, frowning at me with
impatience.

Sitting forward, I rip a small chunk of the
hot meat and bring it to my mouth. The second I start chewing,
Clarence waves his hand and the others move for their own portions,
grabbing for the roasted Horrop first. Sounds of pleasure sail
through the king’s home along with voracious finger licking and
mouth slapping.

“Mmm…” Pratt sucks the grease off her thumb.
“So are you going to tell us where you’ve been all this time? Or do
we have to wait another three months?”

Everyone turns to me. Apparently Sampson and
Clarence didn’t divulge as much information with the others as I
thought.

I swallow a bite. “I went to Arosin.”

“What’s Arosin?”

“It’s Dellapalania’s third moon.” When I
meet a few questionable stares, I remind them. “Harrizel and
Larupip are the other two.”

“That’s right,” Pratt nods, licking her
fingers. “So what was it like?”

“Um…” I inhale, trying to think of a way to
describe it. “Pretty much the exact opposite of Larupip.”

“So a desert?” Jace laughs.

“Basically. There aren’t any trees. Just
rock everywhere and very little water.”

“Where’d you stay?”

I glance around the others, wondering what
they’re going to think about me living in such a place for three
months. “Uh, underground. There’s this endless cavern place with
different levels. Keeps the heat out. It also had small pools for
bathing and drinking, that sort of thing.”

“Really?” Pratt reaches for her melon-cup.
“What’d you eat?”

“Arosin have desert-creature?” King Hozfin
snaps a portion of Horrop free and digs his teeth into it. “You
hunt and eat?”

“There was nothing to hunt. I ate light
vegetation. Pretty much water and plants.”

“So what did you do?” Pratt asks. “You were
gone for three months.”

“I trained.”

“Trained how?”

“Um…” I laugh, thinking of my daily routine.
“Let’s see. There was combat in the mornings, and studying and
meditation in the afternoons. Same thing every day.”

“What kind of combat?” Tucker swallows a
hearty gulp. He wipes the back of his mouth with his hand as Jace
reaches for another helping of Horrop.

“Hand to hand. And a lot of training with
the whip.”

“But you’re good with the whip.”

“Guess they want me to be better.”

“Who does?”

“The Lost Princesses,” I turn to Able. “They
were the ones who trained me.”

“The Lost Princesses,” Qippert interjects,
excitement and pride in his voice, “are the daughters of the Great
Spirit—the Mother. They were the ones to bestow the Gifts to each
World. It is more than an honor that they not only presented
themselves to Fallon, but that they imparted knowledge of the arts
to her.”