Crusade across worlds, p.32
Crusade Across Worlds, page 32
The Dofinikes look at one another until Clarence breaks the silence. “Thias forbids us to bring the Gift there.”
“What? Why?”
“He believes it is safest with this army,” Blovid explains, a quick glance at Sampson. “He is also offended that both Gifts were not taken to his kingdom first. He does not see why, if his protection was not first choice, it is needed now. It is a…pride thing.”
“Always a pride thing with these Nerwos,” Clarence mumbles.
“But who cares about pride? We have to protect the Shadow Bag—”
“As I have tried explaining,” the Arizal Leader continues, “but he will not have it. He does not want the Vermix invading his land again. He will send more support if we ask but that is all. We cannot bring the Shadow Bag there. And with every other place compromised…”
Then that’s it. There’s no point fleeing from moon to moon if he’s just going to follow us everywhere we go. This battle could go on for days or weeks—even months—unless something is done to stop it. Once and for all.
It’s now or never.
“Where’s Reuzkimpart?”
Clarence motions through the trees, to a hill in the distance beyond the forest. “Hiding on the other side of that cliff.”
“He ever coming out?” Reid asks.
“Unlikely,” Sampson says. “There’s no point getting bloody if he doesn’t have to.”
Then that’s where I have to go—into enemy territory, to his side of the fight. If he doesn’t want to come out, then I’ll have to go to him. If it’s the only way, then I’ll have to do it. My hands shake down by my sides and my heart pounds hard at the truth. I have to do this. It’s my destiny. I know because I saw it in the last piece of the Glass Chamber. I’m going to end it all today.
Right now.
Reid stands in the center of the Dofinikes, filling them in on what happened back at Arosin. Now is my chance. They might not even notice I’ve disappeared until it’s finished. If I do it really quickly. Just jump over there, slit his throat, and be done with it. Squeezing the whip’s handle, I take a step back, convincing myself not to believe the fear wracking my body. My heart pumps furiously, my hands silently shaking. I step back again, easing myself out of the group. I take another step. Then another.
“Fallon,” Clarence frowns. “What’re you doing?”
I squeeze the handle like a lifesaver. “I have to.”
Realization strikes his face. He lunges for me, but it’s too late. My great-great-grandfather’s face vanishes, instantly replaced by swarms of Vermix, all pushing forward, firing on the forest ahead.
Chapter Twenty: Desertion
I try not to blink.
Or vomit.
Vermix.
They’re everywhere. All around me, in every place I look. I can barely see snow through their charging bodies, all pouring over the hill to the forest at its base. But they don’t see me. They can’t. I’ve slowed down time to seek out the one I need, the one that can end this once and for all. And I’ll find him. But I have to be careful. There are too many Vermix here. Entirely too many. One wrong move and I’m dead. I’m dead times a thousand. I wanted to be in the middle of the enemy and here I am. Right fucking dab in the middle.
Breathe, Fallon.
And concentrate.
Reuzkimpart.
I have to find Reuzkimpart.
I inhale through my nose, soaking in the energy around me. Anger and determination. Hate. Revulsion. All around me, vibrating within every living being. And then I feel him. I feel him like a force, like a pull through the air, the scent of hunger and pride drifting closer, stretching its black arm as if to summon me. To taunt me.
I know where he is.
Like a beacon amidst the creeping onslaught, Reuzkimpart stands atop the highest level of the cliff, not more than a few yards away. My heart pounds. My hands shake. Terror over what I’m about to do engulfs me, but there’s no going back. Not that I could if I wanted to. This day has been over a hundred years in the making and I can’t stop because I’m afraid. This isn’t just about me. It’s never been just about me.
Concentrating on my calmness, on the power and strength radiating within, I close my eyes and relocate once more.
I look out.
Reuzkimpart stands feet away, his side to me, his focus on the battle ahead.
Now. Do it now.
Sliding my fingers over the handle, I take a deep breath. I grip the weapon like a lifeline—my lifeline, ready to end his with the final blow. Reuzkimpart’s eyes dip to mine. Momentary surprise reflects before settling into confusion. He’s about to ignore me when he spots the object in my hand.
Now.
DO IT NOW!
Pulling back, I snap the whip with a sharp crack, but he dodges before it can make contact. I don’t get it. He should be dead. Dead like all the others. But he’s not. Instead, he stands in a different spot on the hill, facing me, his own whip clutched between black talons.
You think are special?
His voice whispers the words. Oh God. He must have the same ability, the same time manipulation as I do. If that’s the case, then I don’t have the advantage at all. Suddenly, the very real danger dawns on me, but before I have time to process it, the tail end of his whip cracks down by my face. I dodge in time, watching his mouth curve into a smile.
Have you come to kill me?
He sends his whip flying again and I roll across the ground, the black snake slicing into the snow by my foot.
If you have, you better get your attempt in quick, as it shall be over for you soon.
Another crack and this time, the whip makes contact. It bites into my shoulder, separating my skin and I scream at the tear. It hurts worse than I remember, worse than I can reconcile. My first instinct is to grip it, to nurse my shoulder back to painlessness by shielding it from any other injury. But he cracks the whip by my neck, nearly slicing it in half.
I am surprised you are here. Did the Fychu send you? Reuzkimpart smiles wider. Did he give you something? A special serum to move faster? Do not be surprised when it wears off and you have found all your limbs separated from your body.
Reuzkimpart snaps his blade but I dodge it, sending my own with a crack in retaliation. The Vermix Leader barely ducks to avoid getting hit.
The Fychu must have given you something extraordinary.
I aim for his head but he dives easily, his movements smooth and fluid as if this was a dance to him, something mindless and entertaining.
But why send you? Why not come and face me himself?
I try for another strike but to no avail. I go again and this time, Reuzkimpart fully dives to the side. Rolling across the snow, he reaches back and lets the black tail fly. It catches my knee.
Pain explodes. Pain like the split in my shoulder, but worse. Much worse. He might’ve broken it. Snapped it in half. I don’t know. I don’t know because all I can feel is the agony of separated flesh. I bite my tongue, refusing to scream.
Has the Fychu grown scared these past decades?
I crack the whip but it does nothing. Reuzkimpart barely flinches.
Has he grown old? Weak? Decrepit?
I try again, but the black snake bites my hand before I can strike. I drop the whip, shaking, bleeding. Oh God. Oh God. A new, terrifying pain erupts and I’m afraid to look; I’m afraid to see what he did to me. But I have to. Flinching, I glance down. My palm is split open, diagonally from my pointer finger to my wrist.
If I wanted your hand, I could take it. Just like anything else I wanted.
I can barely move. I can barely see through the dizzying pain, the torture dragging me in and out of consciousness. And Reuzkimpart must know this because he reaches back and lets the black tail fly once more. I do my best to dodge, but it catches the side of my neck.
This is it.
He’s decapitated me and I’m dead.
Reuzkimpart won. The Vermix have won.
Except as I’m waiting for my head to roll off, nothing happens. Reuzkimpart doesn’t boast a look of confident satisfaction, only mild irritation. Maybe even disappointment. It’s because he hasn’t done it yet. He’s only nicked me, merely caught the side of my throat and that’s not enough for a fatal blow. With a growl, he reaches back for the final strike. I know it’s going to hit me this time. But I can’t move. I can’t do anything because I’m in too much shock, too stunned and distracted by the throbbing in my shoulder, knee, hand and neck to focus. I’m going to die. Reuzkimpart is going to kill me and I’m…I’m going to fail.
The end of the whip comes down. Any second. Any second and I’m going to feel it. Any moment and it’s going to be my last. As I inhale what I’m sure is my final breath, something knocks into me. I’m shoved into the snow, surprised to feel the cold against my skin.
Clarence drops beside me, his neck split open.
Supreme…we have it…we have the Shadow Bag.
I don’t understand.
I don’t understand why I’m on the ground and Clarence—
He tries to swallow, but can’t. I don’t know what to do. His throat is covered in blood. So much blood. It’s leaking all over his neck, down to his collarbone and onto the fabric of his clothes. None of it makes sense.
Me.
It was supposed to be me.
Something shuffles around us but I can’t stop starring at Clarence, at his bloodied throat and wide, panicked eyes.
Shall we kill the human?
Leave her. We have what we came for.
I know I should turn around; I know I should do something to stop them, to kill them, but all I see is Clarence. All I see is his broken body. His bleeding throat. The surrounding green flashes to white and I know the Vermix are leaving. They’re abandoning Larupip now that they have the Shadow Bag, but I don’t make a move. I can’t. My focus shifts between my great-great-grandfather’s eyes as he takes quick, shallow breaths.
“No, it’s okay,” I sniffle. “We can fix this—I can fix this,” I place my quivering hands over his neck, trying to conjure the glowing white body I used to treat Werzo and Qippert. Only a red form appears. No white. No pink.
“It’s fine,” I shake my head, refusing the diagnosis and focusing on his bright red form. “We can—I can do this,” I try growing the tissue in his throat. But there’s nothing to grow. The ends are charred. Dead. Unable to replicate. There’s nothing to reconnect. There’s nothing to treat.
“Clarence!” I shake him but his eyes are fixated on the sky. Tears gush down my cheeks, blurring my vision. Grasping his shoulders, I try pulling his body from the snow. But it’s too heavy. And I can’t see anymore. Everything is a blur of tears and blood and guilt and regret.
“Clarence, come on,” I try again, managing to lift his torso from the ground. His head rolls back, blood staining everything below it. I’m able to raise him another inch when his weight gets the better of me and he falls back into the snow. I fall with him, my face pressed into his chest, the tears uncontrollable.
Somewhere between sobs I inhale his scent. Familiar. Comforting. Calming. Clarence. It heals me, reassures me, until I realize it’s a scent I’ll never know after today. Sticking my nose to his chest, I breathe deeply. I breathe as much of his scent into me as possible. I breathe in a lifetime of it.
At some point, arms wrap around my body as a new scent encloses me. Reid rests his chin on my uninjured shoulder.
“Fallon.”
He wants me to let go. Maybe even needs me to. But I’m not ready. Burying my face even deeper, I wiggle out of Reid’s protection and onto my great-great-grandfather, squeezing with everything I have. I’m squeezing him so tight that I hope it’ll weigh him down, and that he’ll stay here, with me.
Through my bellowed sobbing, Sampson’s soft voice speaks to someone. “We need to bring him back.”
“I will transport the others,” Vix says.
“Where will he want to rest?” Blovid asks quietly. “Ellae, I assume?”
I don’t hear a response over my own crying. Squeezing Clarence, my fingers dig into the soft flesh of his arms as though clutching him might make him come back. As though reminding him of my presence would be enough to change his fate.
A moment later and Sampson’s voice breaks through my sobs. “We shall prepare his departure after we get settled on Mybyncia.”
Someone kneels next to me but I don’t bother looking up. It doesn’t matter. It’s not Clarence. And it never will be Clarence. The thought brings on a new wave of panic, of breathlessness, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to breathe again.
My hand is squeezed. Something is happening outside of my limited vision, but I don’t care. I don’t care about anything else. In this moment, nothing else matters.
“Fallon,” Sampson’s voice is soft behind me. I don’t move. He can call my name all he wants but I’m not letting go.
Someone else sniffles. I think it’s Pratt.
“Fallon,” my name is a whisper. “We need to take the body.”
I keep my grip strong.
“Fallon,” it’s a plea now. “We have to have him cleaned up and you…you need to be looked it.”
I refuse to answer.
“Maybe we should wait,” Blovid whispers.
“He needs to have his neck wrapped. We must prepare him…” Sampson inhales, “… as we have Jothkore.”
Reid crouches beside me. He loosens a piece of hair and tucks it behind my ear. I look up. His thumb traces circles around my cheek, his eyes never leaving mine. He’s not asking me to let go. He’s not asking me anything. He’s just holding me, touching me, reminding me that he’s here, reminding me that I’m not alone.
Looking past him, I find the partially-damaged Docking Station. We must’ve come here at some point, but I don’t remember when. With a blink to clear my vision, I see the others are here too, even Tucker. The sight offers a little peace, but not much. I’m still wrapped around Clarence and everyone is gathered around us in a circle, standing like a barrier to block the outside. Except Reid. Reid is beside me, refusing to make me do this by myself. He doesn’t speak. He knows he doesn’t have to; he just needs to be close to me.
With a look back over my great-great-grandfather, my chest tightens again. Someone has closed his eyes; it’s like he could be sleeping. But he’s not.
He’s gone.
He’s really gone.
Arms slip around me but I don’t protest. Reid picks me up. Maybe if I stay in him arms, I’ll never have to come out. Maybe I can hide in them forever.
Something rustles and Able’s pained voice is low. “Where are you taking him?”
“The Healers will apply his bandage… and prepare him for tomorrow,” Sampson says in soft, controlled words. “When they are done, they will look at the rest of you. Qippert, Werzo and Fallon first.”
I’m being carried somewhere. I want to yell at Reid to stop, to take me back to Clarence but I can’t find my voice. It’s gone, along with the will to stand, along with the will to fight.
It’s my fault Clarence is dead.
I can’t ever change that. I can’t do anything other than feel this and know I’ll never be able to take it back. I’ll never be able to tell him sorry; I’ll never be able to talk to my great-great-grandfather again. He’s gone, just like the rest of my family.
***
My eyes hurt.
They’ve been staring at the ceiling since I was brought in here. It must be hours now. Everyone else fell asleep some time ago, but I can’t will myself to. I want to. I want to fall into the same escape the others have found, but it won’t come. Maybe for me, sleep is too good a release.
I glance down at my wrist.
Bare.
I don’t even remember losing my Callix. It could’ve fallen off any time after leaving Arosin. I try to think back to it, pinpointing the moment I lost Reid’s sacred memento to me. Maybe if I’d cared more I would’ve at least noticed it missing. But I didn’t. I didn’t realize it until only a little while ago, when I grew dizzy from staring at the ceiling and needed a break for my eyes. Normally I find comfort in brushing the smooth pink and red petals, but when I reached for it, I discovered my wrist was bare and my heart broke anew again.
Reid stirs beside me.
I have no idea which wing we’re in. Male or female, it doesn’t matter. After the defeat on Larupip, nothing matters anymore. The Vermix have both Gifts, Jothkore and Clarence are dead, and Werzo and Qippert are severely injured. I was only nicked. A flesh wound on my shoulder and hand and neck—I’ll survive. My injuries are the least of the Arizals’ worries. Still, Sampson wants me to see the Healers in the morning. I doubt they’ll be able to help. They can merely mend the broken skin. They have nothing for the crater in my chest.
I have to see Clarence.
Climbing from the bed, I’m careful not to wake Reid. He’s sound asleep, just like the others who are sprawled along the floor, a few in similar sleeping arrangements. Slipping past them, I head through the tunnel, not entirely sure where to go. But I let my feet do the walking, trusting that they’ll take me where I need to be. Clarence is here somewhere.
And after searching for twenty minutes, I find him.
My great-great-grandfather has been placed in a servants’ quarter, along with Jothkore. Both lie on high slabs, eyes closed with their arms across their chests. It’s silent. And damp. Perfect for solitude—something he thought I was seeking when I first met him, something he thought I needed after learning about ‘the war.’
I inhale a shaky breath. Then force a step forward, toward Clarence. My heart pounds, tears burning behind dry, un-cryable eyes.
He’s so still.
So…so…quiet.
I scan his body, hoping for a movement, a twinge—something. Some sign he’s miraculously alive and that everything that happened earlier was just a bad dream. A nightmare. I wait, but nothing happens. No movement. No reassurance.
Clarence?
Silence.
Clarence…please.
I force myself to take his hand. It’s soft and leathery. And colder than I remember. I squeeze it and stare at him, waiting again. Waiting for something. Anything. Waiting for this pain to go away, waiting for him to come back, to rewind and start over. I know none of that will happen so I stand here and keep watching, keep waiting for something—for anything—to make this better.
