Reid spins toward me, stunned. Confused. What should he do?

  “This way!” Tucker shouts, working his way through the Zingfinolds, toward his makeshift opening on the other end. “Follow me!”

  More Vermix fly through the entryway. I send my whip flying, striking them down as they appear, the flames eating away at the walls. Coughing erupts, joining the cacophony of screams and sharp, angry crackling. I can’t see Warze anymore, and I’ve lost sight of Hozfin too.

  Qippert! Vix! Jothkore! I picture them all.

  But even if they’re on their way, they wouldn’t make it in time. They can’t save us.

  “Grab hands!” I shout.

  I don’t realize what I’m doing until I’ve started it, but there’s no time to second-guess myself, to wonder if it’s even possible. Closing my eyes, I visualize the frigid white landscape. I can see it—billowing white flurries against a backdrop of snow and ice, so vibrant and real, like the orange flames snaking their way toward me, angry and bright and all-too consuming. I can feel it, feel the icy chill of the freezing temperature like the heat of the fire as it inches its way closer, threatening to devour my body and the bodies of everyone I care about.

  Larupip...

  I inhale.

  Cold. Crisp. I breathe in again, my nostrils widening from the openness of the icy air. Suddenly shivering, I let out a breath and release Reid’s hand. A harsh chill rushes over me followed by a thunderous boom in the distance.

  I open my eyes.

  White.

  Everywhere.

  Blanketing the ground and in the backdrop, across the sky—the color surrounds us, choking us with cold. Shields of flurries whistle past, obstructing most of the view, but I can still make out the faint figures in the distance. Another freezing gust sweeps my skin and I tremble from the sensation. I did it. I actually did it. Another thunderous boom. Squinting, I focus on the figures in the distance as they collide with one another. I let out a breath and see it in front of my face.

  “How did you do that?” Pratt asks.

  “I—I don’t know.”

  “What about the others?” Walker spins, looking for them. “And Tucker?”

  I look at their faces and the realization hits me. We left them. I left them. I left Tucker. He wanted to get the others out, to lead them away and I didn’t hesitate to flee. I left without knowing if he or the Zingfinolds got out in time; I left without knowing if they made it, if they’re safe. I abandoned them. I abandoned Tucker and Warze and King Hozfin.

  “Oh my God,” I fall to my knees, my heart pounding so hard that I can’t breathe. I try for a couple of breaths but it’s hard to inhale the frigid air; it’s hard to breathe it into my lungs. Reid is on his knees besides me.

  “Hey—look at me. Look at me,” he says and I force myself to. “You did what you could.”

  “I left them.”

  “We’d all be dead. You got us out of there.”

  “I could’ve tried to save them. I could’ve tried—”

  “Fallon,” Reid takes me by my quaking shoulders, “you saved us.” I shake my head to protest but he wraps his arms around me, clutching my body to his. “You saved us.”

  He rocks me until I’m no longer shaking, until the feel of him calms me down enough to breathe again. It doesn’t erase the guilt—not even close—but at least I know he’s alive. And Pratt. And Able and Mae and the rest of the Rogues. Well, most of them. It’s quiet for a moment while I try to rationalize what happened. I don’t think I can, but I can’t think about that now. It’s freezing and we still have a ways to go before this day is done.

  Reid gets to his feet. He offers his hand and pulls me up.

  “S-so what do we do now?” Able breaks the silence, his teeth chattering.

  Because we all had to hold hands, no one has their Traxpires. I have my whip, but that’s it. We’re on Larupip, alone, defenseless, and something is going on in the distance. If we had some help—

  Clarence!

  “Give me a sec,” I close my eyes and I focus on my great-great-grandfather’s face, blocking out the guilt, the cold and the sheer adrenaline of having relocated eight bodies to another planet. This is all moving too fast, and not how any of it was supposed to go.

  Clarence, we’re here—on Larupip.

  I wait and there’s no response. I grow panicked again until his breathlessness invades my head. You are? Where? Tell me you’re not in the thick of things.

  The thick of—what do you mean?

  They’re here. The Vermix know we’re here, relocating the Shadow Bag.

  What? How?

  They were closing in on us. Sampson had no choice—we had to flee. But one of the Vermix grabbed hold of him. He saw where we were and must’ve told the others. They’re coming in swarms.

  Shit.

  Where are you, kid?

  Um…I glance around. I really have no idea where we are. But I’d visualized the place I remembered most—the cave where we met the Arizal Leader for the first time. It has to be around here somewhere. I think we’re by Blovid’s old hideout. There’s something going on in the distance, but Clarence…we don’t have our Traxpires.

  A pause. You have a whip?

  Yeah.

  Okay. No pressure, but it’s on you. I don’t think the fight will find its way over, but if it does, you don’t hesitate. You take those bastards out and grab their guns. I’ll do my best to get you a few too.

  Are Sampson and Blovid safe? Is the Gift?

  For now, yeah. Look, I’ll do my best to find you. Stay where you are. Keep warm. Be safe.

  Okay.

  I open my eyes and find the others staring at me, anxiously awaiting the update. They’re all huddled together, sharing body heat, one mass shivering against the whistling white flurries.

  “W-well?” Werzo breathes into his hands.

  “They’re here. Clarence, Sampson…but so are the Vermix. They know we’re moving the Gift here.”

  “Of course!” Werzo throws his arms up. “Why wouldn’t they? Can’t they just cease and desist already? These assholes are fucking –”

  “That’s probably what that is over there,” Reid cuts him off and gestures to the commotion in the distance. “What else did he say?”

  “He’d try and get to us but he seemed occupied.”

  I didn’t tell Clarence about King Hozfin and leaving the others inside the burning home. I didn’t tell him I abandoned them. That’s something for later, for afterward, when I have the time to face what I did.

  “We need to get inside,” Reid scans the area. He focuses on something, then motions over my shoulder. “I think that’s Blovid’s old hideout there. We can wait it out in the cave.”

  “Yeah,” Walker bristles, rubbing warmth into his naked arms. “Good idea.”

  We head in the indicated direction and after passing a high mound of snow, the cave’s entrance comes into view. Reid heads into the darkness first. Once he confirms it’s secure, we follow him in, funneling into the narrow stone walls and out of the freezing cold. But it’s barely warmer. If anything, it feels the same, except there aren’t any harsh, icy gusts trying to blow us over. And at least we have on actual clothes. I feel bad for Walker and Able. We’ll need to leave the planet soon because if we stay much longer, they’ll catch hypothermia for sure.

  The tribesman lets out a shivering breath and blows heat into his hands. “W-w-what is th-this p-p-place?”

  “Jesus, Walker. You’re going to freeze to death.” Able snuggles closer to Mae, using her for body heat. “Hopefully there are some Carring hides left.”

  “Blovid’s old hideout,” Jace rubs his arms, trying not to shake. “And shit, I’d take a torch at this point. Anyone got any matches?”

  “Think the Vermix will c-come in here?” Pratt asks.

  “Naw,” the blonde Rogue shakes his head. “They’ll be too busy down there. We should stay here, try to keep warm and wait for Clarence to get us.”

  “I like the sound of that,” Werzo says, leading the way into the first room. “Hey, think there might be—shit!”

  Chapter Eighteen: Old Allies

  Traxpire explosions blast overhead.

  Shouts echo behind me and then Werzo falls to his knees. I race past him, whip in hand and slow down the moment.

  Five Vermix rush forward, springing out from the first compartment. But they’re moving in centimeters, taking forever to cross the space, snarls etched into their nearly-frozen features. Another orange blast erupts, inching its way closer. I send the whip flying, slicing into the explosion and redirecting its course. Rearing back, I bring the whip over again and slash at all five Vermix at once. They pause mid-run and fall to their knees, each gripping the red canal carved across their throats. Traxpires hit the ground followed quickly by their owners.

  I let out a breath.

  Time speeds up.

  Five slain Vermix lay in bloody puddles at the entrance to Blovid’s hideout. Five new Traxpires to use. I’m about to pick one up when an agonized whimper fills the air. Spinning, I find Werzo half on the floor and half in Mae’s lap. She’s cradling his upper body while the rest of him lays sprawled on the stone ground.

  “Sshh, sshh, sshh—it’s okay,” she rocks him, her terrified eyes flickering to the blood gushing from his side. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

  Werzo cringes, tears streaming down his cheeks.

  “It’s fine. You’re fine,” Mae shoots me a look, both hopeful and afraid. “It’s not that bad. We’ll get this fixed up,” she tries comforting him but Werzo’s tears turn to breathless sobs. His blood leaks out, pooling around his stomach, creeping along the stone ground. Mae holds him closer, fingers by his wound, trying to keep it blocked. Frowning at us, her voice tightens. “Guys…help.”

  No one moves.

  I think we’re in shock.

  No one’s ever been this seriously injured before. Not on Harrizel, not during Mybyncia’s plague or even the last battle on Nerwolix. This…this has never happened.

  “Can you do something?” Pratt asks.

  I learned a little about healing while I was on Arosin. Just the basics, really. And I never actually applied the lessons; the Lost Princesses provided me the knowledge only, a basic 101 on anatomy restoration—something every member of the Three Worlds learns at some point. But it can be dangerous. One wrong move and I could kill Werzo, simply by accident.

  “Fallon?”

  I drop to my knees beside him. My heart is racing, my nerves still fresh from Zinnollo, but if I don’t do something, he will die. At least I’m giving him a chance. Closing my eyes, I inhale through my nose and release it through my mouth, the breathing technique the Lost Princesses taught me. I do it again. And again.

  Inhale.

  Exhale.

  Inhale.

  Exhale.

  Concentrate. Concentrate.

  Blocking everything out, I focus on Werzo’s white light. It’s in the shape of his body, and flickering. A red blur darkens one side and my hands navigate toward it, hovering over. And I can feel his pain. I can feel the sharp stinging of seared flesh, the burning sensation nearly unbearable. It brings tears to my eyes but I suppress them, ignore them, and focus on his open flesh, on the strands of skin and fat and organs no longer touching. I won’t be able to fully repair it, but I dull the nerves and start growing his DNA, managing to attach the lower, deeper parts of the wound so that the blood loss is minimal. When I’ve grown everything I can, his white light is no longer flickering, and the dark red has faded to pink. This is the best I can do. He’ll need an actual Healer, and maybe a healthy dose of Vilbrees.

  Opening my eyes, I sit back on my heels. I find Mae’s teary-eyed stare across from me, the same hope and fear lingering from before. “He’ll live.”

  She cradles him a little closer and for a long minute, no one says a word. What’s there to say? Werzo got shot, Walker is nearly freezing to death and we were just ambushed by a pack of hiding Vermix. And the day is far from over.

  “Let’s pick him up and bring him inside,” Reid motions for the space where the Vermix were hiding. Booker, Jace and Reid all hoist Werzo up and after bringing him inside, they set him down in the center of the ground. It’s a little warmer in here because we’re further from the exposed outside chill.

  “Should we move him to the other room?” Jace props his hands on his hips.

  “What other room?” Walker asks.

  Reid cocks his head back. “There’s another room further back. A little more hidden. Probably a bit warmer too.”

  “There were Carring hides we could use,” Able looks around, stopping on the tribesman who tosses him a quizzical frown. “Fur. You could use one and we could lay Werzo on it.”

  “I doubt there’d be any left,” I say. “The Vermix tore through this place last time.”

  “Let’s find out. Guys?” Reid motions them. “Just through this tunnel and we’re there.”

  Walker helps carry Werzo with the others and I follow behind along with Pratt. Mae and Able are at the end, collecting the five Traxpires. She’s shaking her head, whispering something and Able kisses her forehead.

  “I think this is it,” Jace says as we enter the near-pitch darkness. Last time, torches lined the space, illuminating Blovid’s secret hideout. Now, only the illuminating red, pink and peach petals of my Callix offer any visibility. I do a perimeter of the room and find all the Carring hides have been ripped from the walls and thrown into a heap in the back.

  “Pratt,” I call and she helps me drag them to the middle. The boys lay Werzo on three and we all gather around, draping the remainder over ourselves. We sit in a tight circle around him, a soft, warm glow lighting everyone’s flushed face. I look down at the Rogue’s wound. It’s not as severe as the last time I looked, but still pink and swollen. “He’ll need Vilbrees.”

  “Got any on you?” Jace laughs.

  “How did we let this happen?” Booker’s soft words stun the relative quiet. They’re not met with any response except the stark, cold silence. It’s not often that the muscular Rogue speaks, but staring down at an injured Werzo, unfamiliar pain fills his eyes. “We had three months to prepare. And when we left Zinnollo…”

  Reid squeezes my hand.

  “What’s going to happen?” Mae’s gentle voice joins Booker’s. She looks around to each of us, asking the obvious question. “Where do we go from here?”

  Jace stares off into the nothing. “Wait for Clarence, I guess.”

  “Have you heard anything?” Reid turns to me.

  I shake my head, feeling useless. I wish I’d heard something. Anything. But it’s been silent since I told Clarence where we were. Hopefully that means he’s busy helping hide the Gift.

  Pratt brings her legs to her chest and, wrapping her arms around them, lowers her chin to her knees. Able throws his arm over Mae’s shoulders and Walker sighs. Jace scratches his neck while Booker, Reid and I stare down at Werzo. His eyes are closed and his face is pale. He needs to rest. Right now, the best we can do is keep him here, out of the bitter cold and lying flat.

  Something scuttles up ahead. Everyone reaches for the closest Traxpire, all aiming at the only entry, but nothing happens. The sound dies and it’s quiet again. No one lowers their weapons. No one says a thing.

  And then a puff of blue fur on four skinny legs comes into the light. With a long cobalt nose and large, matching eyes, I recognize the creature immediately.

  “Pobo?” I drop the gun.

  “No Pobo,” his nasally voice corrects. “No, no Pobo. Pallooloo.”

  The Rogues look to one another, each lowering their Traxpire. Walker is the only one who keeps his up. “What is this thing?”

  “It’s a Pwebole,” Reid says. “Natives of the planet.”

  “They friendly?” Walker is hesitant to lower his weapon.

  “When they’re not attacking you,” Able mutters.

  “It’s fine. They’re not going to hurt us,” I turn to the Pwebole king. “Are you?”

  “Pallooloo see Dofinikes arrive. Pallooloo warn others,” he scurries closer. “Humans friends with Arizals; Pobo advises Pallooloo not to harm.”

  Walker slowly lowers his Traxpire.

  The Pwebole king moves closer to me. His blue eyes flicker between mine and he sniffs through his giant cobalt snout. “Pallooloo remembers you. Pallooloo captured by Vermix and saw you.” He turns his attention on Reid. “Pallooloo remembers you too. Pallooloo remembers you and Fychu save Pallooloo and human.”

  Reid sits forward. “Are the other Pweboles nearby?”

  Pallooloo shifts from one set of navy feet to the other. “Pweboles are near. Hiding from battle.”

  “How close is the battle?” Booker asks.

  “Everywhere.”

  “It can’t be everywhere,” Walker scoffs.

  Pallooloo turns to him. “Dofinikes and Nerwos and Mybyncians arrive. All fight. Pallooloo tells Pweboles stay hidden.”

  “Did you see the Fychu?” I ask.

  “Fychu here?” Pallooloo looks at me.

  “He should be with the other Arizals—the Nerwos and Mybyncians.”

  “Not all the Mybyncians are Arizals,” Booker reminds me. “If the Muskos are here…” he glances around. “Do you think they’d come here?”

  Reid nods. “Wouldn’t put it past them.”

  “Pallooloo,” I face the Pwebole king again, “it’s probably best to stay hidden. Half of the Dofinikes and Mybyncians are allies, Arizals. The others aren’t. They’ll want to hurt you and the Pweboles like the Vermix did.”

  “Pweboles angry at Vermix. Vermix harm Pallooloo, force Pweboles to attack Fychu and friends. Pweboles want revenge.”

  I look from Reid to the others and then back to the native king again. “What do you think?”

  “How would they know friend from foe?”

  “Could see who we’re fighting,” Jace suggests. “And go after the same.”

  “We’re leaving?” Able frowns.

  “We may have to,” I say. “The Vermix might find their way in here. They already did. And we’ll have to leave at some point.”

  “And go where?” Booker asks. “Walker can’t go out there again. He’ll freeze.”

 

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