Escape from Harrizel (45 page)

“Vix and the others will meet us upstairs
with her part of the Clan,” he motions to his door. “We’ll have to
take separate evibolas because we’re too many.” Sampson looks to
Reid. “How are the rest of the Rogues? Ready?”

“Downstairs and waiting.”

“How many are we all together?” I ask.

Sampson does a quick count. “Thirty-six.
Against about thirty-three Dofinikes and that
includes
the
guards. Drenz, Rooney,” he turns to them, “keep as many babeebs as
you can over your heads.”

“Yes sir!” Rooney salutes, pulling some from
the ceiling as Drenz, behind him, rolls his eyes. Only a second
goes by before Drenz collects with the same eagerness and in the
end they each have around eight yellowy golden balls of light
hovering over their heads.

“Whatever you do, don’t lose them. Now,”
Sampson faces the rest of the group, “I need to be prepared for
whatever happens. To do this, I must take my true form so once we
get downstairs, I’ll be changing. Just want to prepare you.”

“And upstairs?” I ask.

“We’ll meet Vix and the others and then
Jothkore, if everything goes right.”

I nod.

“Just have to wait for the Portcullis to
close and we’ll leave,” Sampson says.

I glance around the huddle of Rogue
Commanders. There is no turning back now. Once Sampson gives us the
go ahead, we’ll be heading upstairs to confront the Vermix. We’ll
have thirty minutes before the bell to start Reminders and then,
Leisure Time will ring. We’ll have to do it fast.

A loud thundering thump of metal from
outside and Sampson gestures to us. “Let’s go.”

We file out of his room, making our way for
the empty Courtyard downstairs where about ten Rogues meet us. They
exchange quick words with Reid and Tucker as Sampson heads for the
door I haven’t really noticed since Jeb took me through it the
first day.

Approaching the deeply-blue fogged arch,
Sampson straightens his posture. He turns to us just as his body
expands, his legs and arms elongating and consuming a greenish hue
that soon spreads throughout his form. His torso tightens, darkens
and hardens as whiskers sprout from his chin, falling in waves like
a thick beard. The robin’s egg blue of his eyes are last to change,
slipping to a golden yellow but keeping the same inquisitive shape
and sense of depth I’ve come to not only trust, but rely on.

“Quickly, please,” Sampson motions us to
follow.

He heads through the starlit arch, Reid
next, then me, then the others with Tucker bringing around the
tail. Once we’re all in, the evibola jerks momentarily before
resuming its standard silence. It takes about ten seconds for us to
arrive and when we do, Sampson cautiously steps outside, his arm
flying into the air and signaling with one talon to wait. He peers
around and, after deeming it safe, chances a further step, fully
into the shadowed corridor.

He pauses.

Finally motioning us out of the evibola, he
signals us to follow, moving right. We slip out silently, into the
same darkened corridor lined with Gizella trees and babeebs. But
there aren’t nearly as many. There are probably five of the silver
snake-like trees that dot the length of the hall where downstairs,
in the human quarters, there’d be ten. And same with the doors. The
cobalt blue arches aren’t nearly as close together as ours. More
distance between the arches means more space inside the room. These
are definitely someone’s quarters. But whose?

I’m three paces behind Reid, with Chief and
Jace on my heels and Able at my side. My heart thumps wildly, like
a drum sequence on repeat. But that just means we’ve made it this
far. We’re here, higher in the Castle than we’ve ever been and not
stopping yet.

Another Dofinike jets out and for a second,
I think it’s about to begin. But Sampson greets the newcomer with a
nod, just as Pratt, Clark, Griffin and the other half of the Rogues
shuffle out behind them. The groups acknowledge one another
silently, each taking to opposite sides of the wall as we file
along, scaling it against our backs. Tucker is in front of me and
Reid is in front of him. I glance across the way and lock eyes with
Pratt who follows along behind Clark.

We’re almost there.

Sampson and Vix slow. He dashes to her side,
keeping to the right until stopping at a cobalt arch ahead. Sampson
taps his talons against it and it opens a second later. He leads
the way in, then Vix, then the rest of us.

The room is similar to ours with the dark
marble walls and floor. It’s at least ten times larger, stretching
out into different compartments blocked off by wall separators. A
few colorful tapestries line the space but there’s very little
furniture. Filtering through the bodies, I step in front of Chief
to take in the scene where everyone has stopped.

Jothkore, in his human form, paces with a
wide grin on his face as he sees us approaching. An oversized
eggplant rug coats the marble floor between us and on it, bonded
together with thick brown twine, lay two Dofinikes snarling through
their restraints, one with a nasty scar down his face. Lying on
their sides with their backs pressed together, both have their
snouts wrapped.

Once we’re all in and the door is shut
again, Jothkore takes a step forward, his eyes on Sampson.

“It is done, Fychu,” he lowers his head.

“And the defenses?”

“Top floor, across from the labs,” Jothkore
looks up apologetically. “…I regret to inform you that only Beshib
and the high guard can open it.”

Sampson cups his chin, “Well, we were
planning on capturing him anyway,” he huffs in frustration,
gesturing to us. “I was hoping to secure some defenses first.”

“We have ours,” Reid retrieves two blades
secured up his forearm. As he does this, the rest of the Rogues
follow suit, extracting their own pieces. Pratt, Clark, Griffin and
I glance around at the sudden exposition of weapons ranging from
small blades to brass knuckles, all made from molded and heated
gibb, compliments of the Carpenters.

Reid tucks his blades away and the rest do
the same.

“The threat lies with the guards. Now,”
Sampson exhales, “most have gone with Beshib so there will only be
a handful of guards, mostly Yerza and Norpe and the like. Once
we’re able to overpower them, the scientists will be fairly simple
to deal with, I expect.”

“They’ve been trained to the standard Vermix
requirements,” Jothkore reminds.

“Very good,” Sampson glances down at the two
bonded Dofinikes on the floor, “I’m sorry to have to keep you in
this condition but you understand we can’t take any chances.”

The one on the left struggles, sounds
emitting but under the snout restraints, it all comes out a muffle.
He tries to get up but is tied to the other one, has too much
trouble and after a few heated twists, gives up with a breathless
heave.

“Sir,” Jothkore turns to Sampson, “shall we
take them?”

Again, the one on the left struggles,
rolling about, demanding to be heard. Finally, Sampson nods and
Jothkore bends down, removing the mouth restraint. As soon as it’s
off, words erupt in their language, a set of long vowels that rings
a hint of familiarity.

Sampson shakes his head, disappointed.
“Don’t be rude, Jeb.”

The struggling Dofinike looks around us, his
eyes catching mine before focusing on Sampson again. In clear,
enunciated English, he pleads, “It’d be unwise to pursue this. You
don’t understand the importance of...”

“No, best not to try and sway me on this
one.”

“Sampson…” Jeb pleads and Jothkore offers a
swift kick to his back, “F-Fychu Sampson.”

“Oh—no need for that, Jothkore, titles are
irrelevant when it comes to life and death.”

“You n-need to abort this,” Jeb stammers,
glancing between Sampson and Jothkore with fear in his eyes, “now,
while you still can. The others don’t know yet. If you hurry…”

“Yes, I was hoping they would. We’re on a
limited time frame here,” Sampson frowns. “The Castle will be
gathering in the Auditorium shortly so we’d like to be there to
greet them.”

“Fychu!” Jeb cries. “It’s wrong. You must
see this. We are so
close
.”

“… To stumbling upon abomination? Yes, I’ve
seen,” Sampson looks between Jothkore and Vix, “Bring them. Beshib
might’ve kept a failsafe. Back to the evibolas,” he motions to the
rest of us.

We file back out into the corridor, Jothkore
and Vix pulling the guide and scientist behind them. With Jeb’s
snout restraints repaired, he’s muffling sounds again. He’s
pleading with us to stop, his wide yellow eyes darting over
everyone, searching for someone he can sway.

“Top floor,” Sampson nods to Vix before the
group splits again, the new additions going with her.

All huddling into our evibola again, we ride
it for another five seconds, Sampson leading us out into the
corridor I saw on my first day here. We make our way down the hall,
moving quickly, quietly. The space on the other side of the glass
wall lies empty, as do the metal beds. The scientists must be in a
different part of the lab because the further along we move, the
longer the emptiness stretches.

Finally, we meet the hall’s end where a
massive black arch greets us. Everyone comes to a halt as Sampson
gestures Jeb closer. Jothkore, now in his true form, holds him out
and up for Sampson, removing the restraint from his snout.

“Open it.” Sampson keeps his words calm.

“Fychu…” Jeb pleads.

“Open it
now
.”

“Fychu,” Jeb gulps, “if only you could
understand…” but his words are cut off. Jothkore has his throat
gripped, pinching as Jeb hisses out, “I can’t. I can’t,” he chokes,
“only Tetlak. Only Tetlak.”

“Call him.”

“They’re on their way,” Jeb gulps, just as
Jothkore frees him, “they know I’m here. When Jothkore didn’t
return…”

“Good,” Sampson interrupts him, “how many
shall we be expecting? You know what—don’t tell me, I’d rather be
surprised.”

“Fychu,” Jeb tries once more, “it is a
mistake
. Talk to your father…”

But at this, Sampson nods to Jothkore who
retrieves Jeb, reapplying his snout restraint. With Vix’s help,
they lower the two Vermix to the ground in the corner. Sampson
gestures everyone behind him.

“You’ll want to stay back there for this.
Drenz, Rooney, if you don’t mind keeping yourselves close by,” he
indicates for them to stand on either side of him. The Carpenters
follow his order, both still carrying eight babeebs over their
heads and glowing like lanterns. Reid pulls me behind Sampson, but
end up on Able’s right side, peering just over Pratt’s shoulder at
the unfolding scene.

Sampson stands dead center while Jothkore
and Vix keep to either side, behind the Carpenters.

“Time check?”

“Fourteen minutes until Reminders,” Vix
looks to Sampson.

“Then we’re right on track,” he glances over
his shoulder to the rest of us with a silly grin, “I hope they’re
not late.”

A long, silent moment goes by before the
Dofinikes step off their evibolas and into the opposite end of the
corridor. There are two at first. Then four, then six and suddenly,
a giant queasy pit grows in my stomach.
Can
we do this? Even
as ready as we are, are we strong enough for
this
? I hold my
breath as the eight of them stop, glaring at us through yellow
slits of fury.

The first two race toward Sampson, dropping
to all fours in a full-on run. Sampson, calm as ever, holds his
pose until they are mere feet away. Just when the first one claws
at him, Sampson effortlessly scoops two babeebs from Rooney’s head,
tossing the golden spheres in each of the Vermix’s faces. It all
happens so quickly that I almost don’t see the babeebs wake up. I
nearly miss their eyes opening all over their bodies with
stinger-like teeth emerging between. The babeebs land on the Vermix
who screech and scream at the contact.

Both guards fall to their knees, grasping
their faces and yelping in pain as they try to pry the carnivorous
babeebs off. The rest of the guards—all six—rush down the hall but
Sampson only repositions himself. With quick, casual movements, he
scoops more babeebs from the Carpenters, launching them through the
hall to each impending Vermix. One by one they go down, tumbling to
the ground and grabbing the babeeb latched to them. They try
peeling it from their skin but it only buries itself further,
eating its way through their bodies. All of them start hissing, two
trying to rise but quickly fall again, diving into a new terror of
pain after Sampson releases a few more in their direction.

Before a sigh of relief is let out, three
more Dofinikes emerge, down on the other side of the yelping
Vermix. The trio looks around, aghast at the scene, all three pairs
of yellow eyes flashing to us with unknown rage.

I’ve seen them before—in that trio.

The tallest remains back, surveying the
number of guards still peeling the insatiable mini suns from their
bodies. He allows the other two to advance slowly toward us,
climbing over the screaming bodies of their fallen brethren.

Rooney and Drenz only have one babeeb each
but to everyone’s surprise, Sampson doesn’t go for them. He doesn’t
make any moves other than inching up slowly, peacefully, as if
intending to meet them half way. But just as they come within feet
of each other, Sampson slows to a stop, pausing.

Yerza and Norpe fly forward, withdrawing
their staffs and aiming at Sampson as they charge him. But he
doesn’t move. Not even a flinch.

Until he deflects their strikes. Delivering
block after block, Sampson knocks Yerza and Norpe unbalanced.
Disarming them in a lightning-fast series of movements, he slips
his leg out, sweeping the floor in a complete circle. Both Vermix
jump over, but not in time to dodge the roundhouse kick to their
heads, Sampson sending them flying. They crash back into the marble
and barely start to rise when Sampson delivers the final blows,
leaving them twitching. He backs up in a straight line, returning
to his peaceful stance.