Plague of Mybyncia

by C. G. Coppola

  Perio is escorted out with the rest of the Muskos, disappearing into the dark, murky water below. The princess returns focus to the chancellor.

  “Yes, I think it wise to retire for the night. I am too sickened to think coherently,” she turns to us with a guilty, shameful frown. “I am so sorry that we have troubled you so. I had hoped your stay would have been pleasant. Tomorrow we will discuss what amends can be made for our outrageous behavior,” she glances at Tucker as the same red blooms in her sage cheeks. “Well… good night.”

  The princess is led out by the remaining portion of guards. With a heavy look, the chancellor turns to Sampson who’s already nodding.

  “I’ll get them back.”

  “Now that the Muskos are under our surveillance, there is no further threat,” Chancellor Keller shifts his focus to us. “Please resort to the customary quarters provided to our guests.”

  Sampson nods. “I’ll see to it.”

  “Thank you,” he clamps him on the shoulder, diving into the dark water after the princess and leaving us in the empty Musko lair.

  “Where to begin?” Sampson exhales.

  “We’ll discuss it at the FH—you’ve said so repeatedly,” Clarence leaps onto Mimi’s cratered back, gesturing to the rest of us to follow, “alright kids. Time to leave.”

  After ascending her cratered back—with Pratt suited and secured beneath Sampson—Mimi lowers into the water, soaring back into the black depths and leaving the Musko lair behind. Riding toward the glowing city in the distance, we finally arrive at the Docking Station in minutes. As we dismount, Reid makes his way to Sampson and the two exchange words.

  “We’re in a very dangerous situation,” Sampson explains as the rest of us approach, removing our headgear. When I take mine off, a small trail of blood runs from my hairline down my cheek from where my head hit my helmet during Kendal’s blow. I wipe the moisture away quickly as Jace assumes my side with Pratt in his arms. Sampson glances between all of us. “The Vermix attacked earlier and now, so have we.”

  “Only after they started it!” Werzo says.

  “The queen will not see it this way. She invited us here under the agreed understanding that our stay would be in peace. You went to the Musko lair—a group prized for their loyalty to the queen—and accosted them.”

  “Only to take back what was ours,” Jace looks down at Pratt’s tiny frame.

  “What were we supposed to do?” I ask, upset to be fighting Sampson on this. “Pratt would’ve died. If we hadn’t showed up when we did…”

  “And I’m thankful for that!” he exclaims, more frustrated than I’ve ever seen him. “I’ve very glad things turned out well but it’s still not over. There will be repercussions…” he sighs, offering a saddened glance to Pratt. He takes a moment, inhales and returns focus to us. “I hope you all understand it was never my intention to do nothing. I had to speak with the chancellor about our options. We were always planning to go after her, but it needed to be done in the right way, without injury and accusation.”

  “We were hoping to get her back without it even reaching the queen.” Clarence jumps in, rubbing the back of his neck. “The Muskos would get a slap on the wrist and no one would know. Keller figured Princess Ariana would know the lair’s whereabouts but by the time he reached her, she told us where you’d gone.”

  It’s quiet for a long moment. Even if what they’re saying is true, it still doesn’t change the fact that Pratt would’ve been dead before they showed up.

  “We had to do something,” I say.

  “And you have,” Sampson nods with a heavy sigh. “I just don’t know what it’ll cost us.”

  “We’re lucky the princess likes you so much,” Clarence grins. “She’s talking to the queen on our behalf. If we didn’t have her fighting for us, this might go a very different way.”

  “What can we expect?” Reid asks.

  “Best case scenario?” Clarence shrugs, “She’ll drop the charges on both parties and the incident will go down as never happening.”

  “Are we being charged?” I ask.

  “Well…” Clarence strokes his chin, “…there are several injured Mybyncians.”

  “None were killed,” Reid shrugs.

  “And let’s thank our lucky stars for that,” he exhales, running his hand through his hair, “but, worst case scenario, we’ll be asked to leave immediately, our welcome revoked.”

  “We need the Mybyncians,” Sampson says to Clarence, “the Nerwos and Zigfinolds are neutral. They won’t fight for either cause unless provoked.”

  “Then let’s hope we didn’t piss off the queen!” Clarence laughs, freezing when he catches the serious expression of his friend. “Look, if we’re asked to leave, we’ll leave. We’re supposed to catch up with Blovid anyway.”

  “Where do you think he is?” I ask.

  “One of the moons,” Clarence shrugs. “Larupip or Arosin. Although…” he scratches his chin, “he does have some friends on Nerwolix.”

  “He wouldn’t be that foolish to bring them in,” Sampson says.

  “Let’s hope Reuzkimpart is not foolish enough to go looking for him there,” Clarence eyes his old friend. “Look, it’s late. There’s nothing more we can do about it tonight.”

  Sampson nods, glancing at Pratt. “We’ll need to get some Vilbrees on you.”

  “I’ll heal.”

  “You’re getting Vilbrees,” Reid orders, turning to me and eyeing my head. “You too.”

  “It’s in our quarters,” Sampson starts for the tunnel towards the Great Hall. “But after that, the girls will have to retire back to the East Wing.”

  Reid shoots me a fleeting glance. “Will the chancellor really know?”

  “It doesn’t matter. We can’t risk further insult.”

  “They’ll be fine,” Clarence assures as we all move through the passage, “I know I said that earlier, but I now I really promise. Everything is locked down for the night.”

  “What if there’s a further threat we don’t know about?” Tucker asks.

  “There will always be another threat,” Sampson sadly sighs. “The best we can do is be prepared and fight with all we’ve got.”

  We walk through the Great Hall and down the tunnel leading to the boys’ room. Once we arrive, Sampson has Jace place Pratt on the bed’s edge.

  “Let’s see your eye,” he rubs some of the bluish green substance on it, circling more down by her busted lip. Once finished, he takes her hands in his, gently applying some of the lotion to her tender wrists. “Just a little more. There,” he sighs with an odd expression I’ve never seen. But it’s gone the next second, his eyes shifting to me. “You’re next, Fallon.”

  I shake my head. “I’ve already used up my allowed quota for the day.”

  “She can have mine,” Reid walks past, standing beside Sampson and scanning me, “the gash on her head. Her arm probably needs a touch up too.”

  “I agree,” Sampson gestures me to sit and begrudgingly, I do. He starts on my forehead, working in the cool lotion between the curls at my hairline. “Wish I would’ve brought more.”

  “I’ll live.”

  “Not if you keep pulling stunts like this,” his eyes flicker to Pratt. “You must take caution. We’re in a highly dangerous environment,” he scans everyone, scolding all of us now, “there is no easy clean-up and it will only get worse. If you’re feeling foolish again, mind your safety. Clarence, Qippert and I will do everything in our power to protect you but…”

  “…it may not be enough,” Clarence sighs. “We need you guys playing smart from now on, okay?”

  Sampson finishes with my arm and reapplies the bandage, rolling down my suit’s sleeve. “Alright,” he exhales, “Salva will retrieve you for breakfast.”

  “Bring your appetite,” Clarence smiles, his brows flicking with humor. “I hear it’ll be Glippis heart with a side of Wigwig and Wormin.”

  “Eww…” Pratt makes a face, heading for the tunnel out.
“I hope it’s better than the eye.”

  “Will it only be us?” I ask.

  Clarence tilts his head back and forth, considering. “The queen may choose to dine with us… but I wouldn’t be offended if she doesn’t. There’s a possibility the princess may. We all just have to remember she’s royalty and every interaction with her needs to be on a friendly, platonic basis,” he glances around, pausing briefly on Tucker, “at this point, at least.”

  The Rogue Leader averts his eyes, finding Reid instead but he’s watching me make for the tunnel with Pratt and Mae, his eyes wide and uncertain. He’s debating something.

  “Shouldn’t Salva be walking with them?” he directs his question to Sampson.

  “Under normal circumstances—yes. But since the princess was out of her bedchambers and present during a scene of such violence, Salva’s immediate responsibilities have shifted to protecting her.”

  “For the rest of our stay?” Mae frowns.

  “I assume only for this one night… but who knows? Tomorrow, we may not even be here. Now,” Sampson gestures to the tunnel’s opening, “off with you three. Big breakfast tomorrow.”

  Making his way for Pratt, Reid gently scoops her into his arms, “she’s not walking after what she’s been through.”

  “Always the gentleman,” Sampson smiles. “Alright, we’ll see you in a few.”

  Reid nods and with Pratt cradled in his arms, he makes for the exit, Mae and I following behind. We walk in silence, past the Great Hall and towards the tunnel leading to our room in the East Wing. When we finally arrive, Reid approaches the bed and gently lays Pratt in the middle.

  “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.

  Chapter Six: Food and Facts

  “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 forwar
d, “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.”