Plague of Mybyncia (38 page)

Whatever is on the branch drops to the ground
again, next to the large tribesman. It walks up, into the glow of
my Callix.

“No, shit—Fallon, is it really you?”

“Walker?” I gasp.

Is it—could it be true?

I haven’t seen Walker since we trained for
the Vermix invasion, when he discovered I was a five percent and
wanted to know what happened the day I found the experiments. I
think I may have spotted him at some point during the battle but
there was too much going on to be sure. And after that, he was
simply missing. I want to rush up to make sure I’m seeing clearly,
that it’s actually him—the first person who spoke to me on
Harrizel, the first one to warn about escaping—but as he
approaches, his face and all that red hair comes into view. It
is
Walker!

I start to move toward him and am immediately
yanked back.

“Easy, easy…” he frowns at the tribesman
behind me, reaching for my wrist restraints. “Let me get these off
you.”

The main Zingfinold steps toward us and
speaks to him in his own language, but Walker doesn’t look
up—doesn’t even flinch. Still grinning, he nods and frees my hands
but quickly pulls them in front of me, reapplying the tie loosely.
“In the front, like this, okay? It’ll hurt less.”

“What’re you doing here?” I whisper. “What
happened?”

Still smiling from cheek to cheek, he’s
focused on the restraints. “It’s a long story. I’ll fill you in
back at the city.”

“City?”

He nods.

“Walker,” the Zingfinold calls, approaching
us, “this your female?”

Reid’s head snaps over. Even bound and tied
to the others, he stands out among the group, ready to break his
way free. But Sampson is behind him, shaking his head with
warning.

“No…” Walker grins, clearing enjoying this.
“She’s just my friend…” he glances up, “never really got a fair
shot though.”

Reid looks like he’s about to expire, but the
second Walker lifts my bound wrists and places them around his
neck, I think Reid might actually do it—somehow break free from the
line of Rogues and kill Walker where he stands. Sampson continues
shaking his head in warning, but Rox’s eyes remain lit with fury,
deadlocked on Walker’s grip, especially as he sneaks his arm around
my waist, pressing me to him.

“We can take the scenic trip,” he raises his
free hand and, grasping one of the tear-drop leaves, we rocket off
the ground, flying up through the darkened canopy. The rest of the
group disappears beneath us, turning into tiny blurred dots below.
Tightening his arm around my waist, he smiles, “Feel free to hold
on as tight as you want to.”

I’m not sure how to respond, so I simply
grin, glad Reid is not here to see this. Trying to dismiss that
thought, I watch the multiple branches whip past as we soar higher
and higher, further and further into the sky. How far up are we
going? And how will the others get here? There are so many things I
want to know, to ask. Like how did Walker end up here? Or how long
has he been here? And what’s going to happen with all of us?
Sifting through all these thoughts, I stick with the most immediate
one.

“Where’re we going?”

“Taking you to the city. Warze wants you to
speak with Hozfin—he’s the leader of the Zingfinolds.”

“And he speaks English? How do they know
English?”

“Hell if I know. It was a bit of a shock to
us too.”

I nod. “And is Hozfin a nice guy?”

“Pretty terrifying, actually,” Walker laughs,
completely relaxed. “Thought I’d die the first time I met him.”

“You survived.”

“And so did the others.”

“Others?”

“Yep,” he nods as we slow, stepping us onto a
branch.

We’re at the top of the tree where a whole
nest of the rounded leaves live. Walker lets go and it shrivels
even higher, back into the bark with its siblings. The branch we’re
standing on isn’t fully smooth, but rather occupies the same
rope-like texture of the tree it belongs to. Mistakenly, I glance
down and nearly lose my balance.

“Whoa,” Walker grips me tighter. “You’re
going to want to keep your eyes up,” he gestures out to the lush
canopy ablaze with tiny glowing lights. “Welcome to Zinnollo—city
of trees.”

My breath catches.

It’s
beautiful
.

As far as the eye can see, golden dots
illuminate a mass of swollen trunks, all connecting to one another
by gargantuan interweaving branches. They occupy the same knotted
texture, the trees bulging with bulbous bellies while hats of the
rounded, tear-drop leaves sit atop, creating its own connecting
canopy. The branch-bridges, crafted into stairwells, reach from the
highest tree-top limb and zigzag all the way to the lowest and
every which way in between, lights strum across it all, like a tiny
town sitting in the cloudless night.

“Walker…” it’s the only thing I can say.

“Beautiful, right?”

“It’s like a dream.”

“Yeah,” he peers off into distance, “that’s
what I thought first time I saw it. Thought… if I’m going to be
killed, it’s as good a place as any. Know what I mean?”

“Well, I’d rather not be killed,” I gaze out
into the twinkling night. “So when did you get here?”

“Right after Harrizel. During the
battle.”

“That’s why we couldn’t find you…” I look to
him, startled to find him so close. With my arms still wrapped
around his neck and his hand cradling my waist against his body,
his head is only inches from mine. Attempting to pull back, I look
to the city again. “But how did—”

“Vix.”

“Vix is here?” I whip back.

“Yep,” he grins. “Couple others too.”

My mind races with possibilities. Who else is
here?
Able
? Could—could Able be here? Trying not to get my
hopes up, I run through everyone unaccounted for. There weren’t too
many, but there were a few, and Vix and Walker were definitely on
that list. Could everyone missing be
here
? And all this
time?

“Listen,” Walker leans in, his scent coating
me. “I have to take you to Hozfin with the others but he won’t hurt
you. I
promise
.”

“He a generous guy?”

“What do you mean?”

“We need something from the planet. That’s
why we came.”

“What is it?”

“A flower. It has the antidote we need.”

“What do you need an antidote for?” he
narrows his eyes. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine—it’s the Mybyncians. They’ve been
infected and the only thing to cure them is the Nazual. So, do you
think Hozfin would allow us to take a few of them?”

Walker inhales through his teeth, “Uh… not
really sure. He doesn’t like strangers coming to his home and
taking his things. Kind of hates it, actually.”

“Maybe Sampson can convince him.”

“Maybe…” he sounds unconvinced, reaching up
to the same rounded leaf. Yanking it down a bit, he grips me
tighter, “Time to find out. Hold on tight, okay?”

Before I’m able to nod, he jumps off and
we’re flying through the trees toward another high branch. Reaching
it, Walker let’s go of the rubbery leaf and grabs the next,
launching us toward the next stop. We do this a few more times
until we reach a wooden bridge leading up to a giant tree trunk,
five times the size of any of the others.

Thunderously intimidating, it glows from
several tiny gaps, illuminating the fortress like a magnificent
lantern against the black night. A red curtain hangs in the front,
from the archway of its winding, rope-like bark, and the entire
tree is surrounded by at least five of the carved bridges
connecting it to the rest of the city. Wherever he’s taken me, it’s
important.

“What
is
this place?”

Walker grins. “This is Hozfin’s home. He’ll
receive you and the others. Here,” he lifts my arms from around his
neck and places them back in front of me gently. “I’d take your
restraints off, but he’d rather strangers come in bound.”

“Think you can cut me loose by end of the
night?”

“Think so, yeah,” Walker smiles, his mouth
turning down suddenly. “Sorry they jumped you like that,” he wipes
a bit of dirt free from my cheek. “You’re not hurt, are you?”

I shake my head, trying to ignore the
throbbing pain still pulsating down my leg.

“Normally they spare the females somewhat,
but because it’s nighttime…”

“I’m fine—really. Once I get these off,” I
indicate to the twine binding my wrists, “I’ll be fine. Really,
don’t worry about me. I’ve been through
much
worse.”

He exhales, glancing down at my wrists, lost
in indecision. “Well,” he looks up after a minute, “I
am
glad to see you. Thought I’d never seen you again,” he motions to
the side, “or anyone else. Figured I’d be here forever.”

“And you’ve been here this whole time? Since
the Vermix arrived on Harrizel?”

“This
whole
time. It’s been a bit
lonely,” he smiles another charming grin, tucking a stray curl
behind my ear. My heart jolts and on instinct I jerk back. “Sorry…”
his face falls, his hand dropping. “Guess you’re still with him,
huh?”

I bite my lip, nodding.

“Thought he had someone back home?”

“He did… um….does.”

“But he wants you?”

I nod again.

“Can’t say I blame him,” Walker smiles with a
wink.

An uncomfortable moment of silence passes
before the large Zingfinold approaches, the one Walker referred to
as Warze. He’s leading the rest of the group—still bound and
gagged—in one line across the nearest bridge and up toward the
mammoth-sized trunk. Only half of the tribesmen accompany him,
including the younger one carrying an unconscious Mae.

All wide-eyed, Sampson heads the line of
captors, followed closely by Clarence and Pratt with the Rogues
trailing behind. Reid moves somewhere in the middle, but unlike the
others, is solely focused on Walker and I, his eyes glued to our
scene. He hasn’t calmed down in the slightest and in fact, he seems
even more enraged.

Once Warze reaches Walker on the little bit
of bark in front of the crimson curtain, he pauses, Sampson and the
line halting behind him. “I speak with Hozfin. Announce Fychu’s
arrival.” He sweeps past the drape and into the wooden abode.

Sampson looks to Walker, then to me, his
brows raised and waiting.

“Hozfin will remove your gags in a minute.
I’d do it myself but as I told Fallon, he’d rather strangers come
in bound and silenced.”

Sampson nods.

Walker turns to me, gently grasping my wrists
with both his hands, “I’ll get these off you as soon as possible. I
promise.”

“Fychu,” Warze holds opens the curtain,
peering down the row behind him, “friends of Fychu. You speak with
Hozfin now.”

Sampson leads the way, the rest of the line
following behind. As he passes, Reid pelts Walker with a glare so
intense that it makes
me
step back, and as I do, I nearly
fumble backwards on the bridge. Reid tries getting to me, but he’s
ushered inside by the tribesman who’s hoisting Mae over his
shoulder. Before I hit the bark, Walker catches me, his arm wrapped
securely around my waist.

“Whoa there…” he hoists me back up. “You
okay? Hit your leg too?”

“It was injured before I got here.”

“Just lean on me, Fallon. I got you,” he
presses me to his side, half propping me up as we move past the red
curtain.

Inside is a warm wooden space, the interior
draped in red fabrics and littered with jars of giant, yellow
fireflies. I’m instantly suffocated and it doesn’t take long to
figure out why. The space is teeming with husky Zingfinolds,
swallowing a majority of the space with their bulky limbs and wide
frames. The smaller, less furry females sit in the center of the
floor, clothed in the same beige and black animal hide while the
males stand crossed-armed against the walls.

Off in the back, sitting in a throne carved
from the tree itself, is the largest Zingfinold in the room.
Silver-brown fur runs from his face down his neck and over his
shoulders, bunching up again at his wrists, knees and ankles. He
sits back with both hands grasping the wooden arms of his throne,
his legs parted slightly with a red and black material draped
across his thighs. A crown of twigs and twine with red and blue
berries rests atop the silver-brown fur of his head, his blue eyes
narrowed on us.

He lifts his right arm and places it down
again. “Which is Fychu?”

Warze removes the gag from Sampson’s mouth,
tugging him forward and the rest of the line goes with him.

Hozfin shakes his head and using a small
blade, Warze cuts the rope between him and Clarence. He tugs
Sampson by the arm and pushes him to his knees before the
throne.

“We no allow strangers,” Hozfin growls,
narrowing his eyes. “Fychu or no.”

“And that is exactly the reason we held off
on coming to Nerwolix for so long.”

“You are here.”

“We had no choice. We did everything possible
to keep from trespassing on your lands. Even,” Sampson chuckles,
“engaging in battle with a few Gorgen.”

The king’s eyes flare for only a second, but
regain their narrowness quickly. “Gorgen no exist.”

“Do not tell me you think them a mere child’s
fable?”

Hozfin shifts in his seat, his sights never
flickering, “How could such creature be?”

“Oh believe me…” Sampson nods. “They are
real.
Very
real.”

“I no seen one.”

“You have also never been to Mybyncia, where
they naturally reside. But I assure you, King Hozfin, they are as
real as you and I.”

“If Gorgen exist,” his husky voice growls,
“why you seek them?”

“We thought their main food source might
remove a toxin infecting half of Pryncbia. We sought out their
lair, attempted to retrieve what we needed but it did not work. The
only thing that will save the infected Mybyncians is the antidotal
bud of the Nazual found here, in your home.”