Plague of Mybyncia (11 page)

“Thanks,” she murmurs, already half
asleep.

He doesn’t say anything, but pulls some of
the burgundy blankets over her and steps back. He nods at Mae and
then turns to me. We stand staring at each other for an eternal
second, waiting for the space between us to dissolve. When it
doesn’t, he nods with a disappointing exhale. “See you
tomorrow.”

“Night…” is the only thing I can manage, and
poorly at that.

Reid turns on his heels and heads out,
leaving me breathless from his visual assault. A minute after he’s
gone, when my heart is still playing catch up from the intensity of
our stare, Mae startles me with a question.

“Why don’t you guys talk?”

“What?” I spin.

“You’re together, right?” she blushes
suddenly, shaking her head. “I’m sorry—I know I’m being
intrusive.”

“What makes you think we’re together?”

“The way he looks at you,” she shrugs. “The
way you look at each other.”

“Oh…” I move for the bed, uncomfortable with
the direction of the conversation. I strip off my suit and throw it
next to the cobalt skirt and shelled bra on the coral floor. “Well,
it’s been a long day,” I climb in next to Pratt. “We should get
some sleep. Plus, you need to rest.”

“It’s really not so bad,” she murmurs,
already half asleep. “I don’t remember much of it.”

Frowning, I wipe a few strands of her light
brown hair back, tucking it behind her hear. “I’m sorry this
happened, Pratt.”

“ ‘S okay…”

“No matter what Sampson or Clarence say—we
won’t ever leave you. You know that, right? We will
always
come for you,” I brush another lock from her face and look up to
Mae. “Same goes for you.”

Mae smiles, leaning back on the bed. “We need
our rest to eat the Glippis heart in the morning.”

“And the Wigwig…” Pratt murmurs. “Whatever
that
is...”

“As long as it’s better than the eye…” I
whisper, already drifting off.

“
I don’t believe this,” the lady with the
red bandana retrieves her hand from the other two. “This makes no
sense. There’s no way that—”

“
It is the truth,” Granny Ruth sighs. “You
are as he says…”

“
But how—”

“
Helen…” the man’s hand reaches out to the
younger woman. “Please understand. I’ve always wanted you to
know.”

She pulls away again. “I don’t know what to
believe.”

The porch fades to an opaque fog as the same
woman’s face appears—the one with white hair and large, piercing
silver eyes. Her mouth never opens but her voice is solid,
strong.

“
Wake up, Fallon... you must
awake.”

Her white hair blows around her, billowing in
the unfelt breeze.

“
You must awake now.”

Suddenly her eyes widen, the silver
overwhelming into two shining lights that erase everything
else.

“
AWAKE, FALLON!”

“Breakfast will be served in ten minutes,”
Salva’s voice pulls me from sleep.

It takes a minute to remember where we are
and when I do, I sit up, eyeing the cavernous, coral room. We’re
not in Harrizel’s green terrain for the first time in days, but
here in the East Wing of Mybyncia’s Foreign Headquarters, deep at
the bottom of the ocean. Images of last night rush back and I whip
to my side, finding Pratt still asleep next to me.

Salva stands in the entrance to the tunnel,
arms behind her back. “We will be in the Dining Hall so proper
dress is required.”

“Proper dress?” Pratt rubs her good eye, the
other slightly discolored. The Vilbrees definitely helped—only mere
traces of the incident are evident on her face and wrists.

“Same as yesterday,” Salva nods, “as the
feast.”

“Oh…” Mae frowns, glancing at the pile of
discarded shell bras and cobalt skirts on the floor. “Will Princess
Ariana be joining us?”

“It is likely.”

“Are we leaving after breakfast?” I rise,
crossing the space and reaching for the garments. I whip off my
baseball tee and jeans, turning to unhook the black bra.

“At this time… no.”

“But the queen’s been made aware of last
night?”

“She is aware.”

“Was she mad?” Pratt jumps from the bed and
starts to change.

“She was…” Salva hesitates,
“…
surprised
.”

“I’d be surprised if she wasn’t,” I apply the
shelled bra and wrap the cobalt skirt around my waist, feeling the
sudden chill of exposure again. I start to pull my hair into a
ponytail but it only highlights the gash on my brow. Letting my
hair drop again, I decide to leave it down and turn to the girls.
“Ready?”

After both nod, we’re led back to the Great
Hall and passing through, Salva selects a new tunnel, back behind
the thrones where we’ve never been. The passage is the same length
as the others and when we finally reach the end, we arrive in
another grandiose room.

Not nearly as large as the Great Hall, it
boasts high, rounded walls with shelled mosaics lining the entire
space. Planted directly in the center of the room, and carved from
the same pinkish-golden coral as the floor, is a massive circular
table and around it, fifteen evenly placed chairs. Clarence and
Qippert are seated in two, conversing and oblivious to our
arrival.

I’ve never seen Qippert assume his human
form. Like his true nature, he’s smaller, sitting somewhat lower
and has short dark hair, dusted lightly with gray. Kind blue eyes
dart over Clarence before he interrupts him. They’re going back and
forth, Qippert clearly trying to explain something while Clarence
moves to contradict him.

“Are the others coming?” I interrupt.

“Fallon!” Clarence slaps his hand down on the
table. He offers Qippert a final glance before tossing me a grin.
“Ready for some Wigwig?”

“Think I’m more excited about the Wormin.” I
take a seat opposite him, smiling up at Qippert. “Morning.”

“What
is
Wormin?” Pratt sits beside me
and Mae, right next to her.

“Not entirely sure,” Clarence clears his
throat, glancing to Salva, “some sort of vegetation? Is that
right?”

“It is a fine sheen of growth on the Brekin’s
shell,” Qippert answers first, tapping his fingers together in
anticipation. “Quite delectable. Although…” and now he leans
forward, “it may be an acquired taste.”

“How long’s an acquired taste?”

“Uh…” and he smiles, considering,
“
probably
longer than a day. It is a bit sour but if you
have some Hunnis, you will not mind at all.”

“Got any Hunnis?” I ask Salva behind me just
as the boys emerge.

Tucker and Jace enter first, both clad in the
same cobalt loin-cloths as yesterday with Werzo and Booker behind
them. Reid enters last, filling the room with his palpable
presence, my heart fluttering at the sight. Reid glances around and
finding me, he swallows a lump.

“What’s on the menu?” Werzo plants himself in
the closest chair, searching the table for any morsel of food. “I’m
starving!”

“We’ll be dining here shortly,” Clarence
motions for everyone to take a seat.

Without hesitation, Reid selects the chair to
his left and the boys disperse around the table evenly, Jace
sitting to my right. The corner of Reid’s mouth twitches but he
says nothing, turning to Clarence instead.

“Sampson coming?”

“Yes…” Clarence nods, “any minute. Salva, why
don’t you take a seat?”

“I will once the Fychu arrives.”

“Fair enough…” he strums his fingers on the
coral, glancing around the silent table. “…everyone sleep
well?”

“Any idea if we’re leaving after breakfast?”
I ask.

“Well…” Clarence starts.

“We are still unsure…” Qippert cuts him off,
leaning forward. “The queen…well, the queen was not exactly
thrilled
when she found out the entirety of the Muskos were
captured and imprisoned last night. Especially after the Vermix
filled most of the cells earlier in the day. She is a little…”

“…upset,” Clarence concludes. “That’s why
it’s smart to have some Hunnis ready. Salva? You know when they’ll
be bringing the Hunnis?”

“As soon as the Fychu arrives.”

“Clarence…” I begin. I know it’s probably not
the time to ask, but I’ve wanted to know for a while. “What exactly
does Fychu mean?”

“
Fychu
,” he emphasizes the word, “is a
title of great distinction. It’s given to an Arizal
Master
.”

“Master?” Pratt squints. “Master of
what?”

“Arts,” he shrugs. “History. Combat.
Philosophy. Politics… it as seen as conquering life and all her
distinguished attributes.”

“Do you have any ambition to become a Fychu?”
Mae asks.

“No,” Clarence laughs, stroking his chin in
amusement. “I don’t think I’m Fychu material.”

“Why not?” Pratt frowns.

“And you?” Mae directs her question to
Qippert before Clarence can answer.

“Uh…” and he’s blushing. “I am more than
happy to serve below Blovid and the Fychu, but… I do not think my
talents lie in their intensive studies and responsibilities.”

“Why? What do Fychu’s
do
?”

“They are Peace Leaders,” Qippert explains.
“As acting representatives of the Lost Princesses—those who
bestowed the Three Gifts to The Three Worlds. Fychus are the
closest link to the other side we can get.”

“What other side?” Werzo frowns.

“Do you mean to God?” I ask.

“Well…” Clarence sort of nods, “to the
creator of this,” he holds up his hands, indicating the space
around him, “all this. All life. In your world you refer to Him as
God. But here, it is just the Spirit, the Mother, the embodiment of
The Way.” He readjusts in his seat. “When She created life, She
sent Her daughters to deliver Her gifts, one to each world. To
Dellapalania, She gave the Gift of Sight, to Nerwolix, the Gift of
Knowledge and to Mybyncia, the Gift of Ability.”

“What are the Gifts?” Pratt asks. “Like, what
do they do?”

“They are the most sacred of objects.
Together, they form a tool... a
weapon
,” Clarence sighs.
“They can create life… or destroy it. But they’re never to be used.
The Gifts are meant to be kept separate, to keep the peace of the
Three Worlds.”

“So what’s the point?” Jace asks. “If they’re
not even supposed to be used? Why have them?”

“They’re not supposed to be used for personal
gain, for minor disputes or conflicts. The Gifts are a way of
keeping the Three Worlds from falling, from descending into chaos
and destruction. It is only in the
direst
of circumstances
that they should be brought together. And they
shouldn’t
,
really, ever. No one has the capacity to wield that sort of power.
Not even a Fychu. That’s why they’re kept separate.” Clarence
glances around, making sure we understand. “Among other
responsibilities, a Fychu is meant to protect the Gifts. He’s meant
to help keep the balance of the world.”

“How do you become a Fychu?” Mae asks just as
Sampson enters the Dining Hall, everyone growing silent.

“Something I missed?” Sampson seats himself
next to Qippert who bows at his arrival.

“Can we have the Hunnis brought?” Salva calls
over her shoulder, into the main hallway behind her. She sits next
to Sampson, glancing around the table with more enthusiasm than
I’ve seen. “The Glippis heart will be served first, followed by the
Wigwig and Wormin.”

“So what’s this Wigwig we’re eating?” Werzo
rubs his stomach before making a disgruntled face. “It’s not like
the eye… is it?”

“It is the main prey of the Glippis,” she
says, oblivious to the slight, “served in a bed of Wormin. You will
enjoy the Wigwig, I think. It is the most tender part of the beast.
Laden in blood with a hint of stomach acid.”

“Can’t wait…” Jace mutters next to me.

I stifle a giggle.

“Oh I
do
hope you enjoy the Wigwig and
Wormin,” Qippert claps his hands together. “Of all the Mybyncian
dishes, it is my favorite.”

“Not a fan of the heart and eye?” I ask.

“I personally prefer the tongue,” Jace flicks
his brows with a smirk.

“We do not serve tongue,” Salva says just as
bowls of a clear liquid are placed all around us. “Hunnis, as
requested.”

“Hunnis?” Sampson raises a brow, smirking at
his friend. “To wash down the Wormin?”

Clarence shrugs, “The kids asked for it.”

Sampson stifles a smile. “Perhaps we should
wait for the queen?”

“I was under the impression she wasn’t
coming,” Clarence frowns, looking to Salva for confirmation.

“Even if that’s true, Princess Ariana will be
joining us,” Sampson says. “The chancellor as well. We would do
well to wait.”

“Have you spoken with any of them this
morning?” I ask. “We know the queen’s not happy. But what about
Chancellor Keller? Or Princess Ariana? Do they know?”

“Know what?”

“If we’re leaving after breakfast.”

“That…” he exhales, “has yet to be
determined.”

“On what remaining factors?”

“The queen’s decision. I don’t think she’s
made up her mind yet. That’s why she’ll be joining us for
breakfast,” Sampson glances around, locking eyes with each of us.
“To gather our side of the events. Please let Clarence, Chancellor
Keller and me do most of the talking. I wouldn’t want to chance an
early departure.”

“So there’s still hope for a best case
scenario?” Tucker asks.

“There’s always hope, Tucker,” Sampson says,
pushing himself from his seat and rising to an immediate stand.

Queen Ravan, Princess Ariana and Chancellor
Keller arrive—along with a small fleet of attendants—all standing
in the tunnel’s entrance. They’re clad in the same garments as
yesterday, except the queen and princess sport a golden, floor
length skirt and the chancellor’s tunic matches the royal yellowish
hue. At their sight, Clarence follows Sampson to a rise, Qippert
and the rest of us quickly doing the same.