Plague of Mybyncia

by C. G. Coppola

  “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.”

  Hozfin glances around our group, stopping on me. With his intense glare looming, my heart starts thumping, especially as his hand squeezes to a fist. “Why she no silenced?”

  Still keeping a grip on my waist, Walker moves in front of me. “She is the one who told Warze about the Fychu.”

  “She speaks of war,” Warze adds. “Barter information for Nazual.”

  “We no part of war,” Hozfin shakes his head, glancing between me and Sampson, “and you no Zingfinold. Only Zingfinold may take Nazual.”

  “Yes…” Sampson starts, “…you are correct. This war does not include you—not yet. Right now it exists within Dellapalania and Mybyncia, which is in need of your generous aid. In exchange for the Nazual—which will save half of the royal Kingdom of Pryncbia—we offer all information on what has occurred so far, in addition to any and all aid needed, should this war spill onto your lands.”

  “Aid,” Hozfin scoffs, “we need no aid. Zingfinolds prosper with no aid for centuries.”

  “This is true,” Sampson nods. “But this will be a war unlike any the Three Worlds has seen. We have all had our issues, yes, and very rarely have they crossed onto one another. But this time it is different.”

  “Why you think this?”

  Sampson takes a breath. “Reuzkimpart.”

  “I no know this name.”

  “He is one of the Leaders of Dellapalania. He seeks the immediate eradication of all Arizals, and is responsible for the assassination of the other three Dellapalanian Arizal Leaders. He is currently seeking Blovid, the last Arizal Leader, and myself.”

  “Why this affect Zingfinolds?”

  Sampson inhales, “…We believe he is eliminating the Arizals so he may more easily seek the Three Gifts. He has already invaded the Southern Shores of Mybyncia, partly to seek Blovid, but his main objective was to extract the Shadow Bag,” Sampson takes another breath. “It is also my belief that he will bring his forces to Nerwolix to obtain the Floating Ruby.”

  Hozfin exhales, shifting in his seat again. “Floating Ruby well hidden. He will no locate.”

  “That will not stop him.”

  “If he brings war, he will die.”

  “He will bring an army with him. And he is not easily killed,” Sampson shakes his head. “I truly hope we can end this war without involving Nerwolix. But we need the Mybyncians with us and right now, they are suffering from the toxin found in the Nazual.”

  Hozfin strums his furry chin, glancing along the line of Rogues. He nods to Warze and one by one, the large Zingfinold frees their gags. Hozfin’s eyes drift over Mae who’s been placed on the ground at their feet. “Why she asleep?”

  “Passed out, I think,” Sampson chuckles, “she has never seen a Zingfinold and I believe your lieutenant gave her quite the scare.”

  A young Zingfinold flies through the red curtain and dashes up to Hozfin, whispering in his ear. The king nods and the tribesman scurries away again, back outside. Suddenly, the curtain flaps open and Vix comes flying though, followed immediately by Able and some vaguely familiar girl with jet-black hair, all dressed in the black and beige animal hide.

  “Sympse!” Vix cries, rushing into Sampson and throwing her hands around his neck. “It is true!”

  “Vix?” he pulls back in clear disbelief. “You’ve been here this whole time? How is that possible?” he glances from her to Able and the other girl.

  “Dofinike and humans trespass before,” Hozfin says, shifting in his seat and glancing over Walker and the new attendees. “Warze bring to me, say strangers seek refuge.”

  “Refuge?” Sampson looks to her again.

  “We were chased,” she drops her arms, “on Harrizel, when the Vermix invaded. I tried transferring the humans to the other side of the moon when one of the Vermix followed and I had to leave immediately,” she glances to Walker, Able and the girl. “I took us off-planet but knew we could not go to Mybyncia or back to Dellapalania. I brought us here, expecting it would only be minutes but,” she glances to Hozfin, “we were captured.”

  “And weren’t immediately killed,” Sampson looks impressed.

  “They have two female,” Hozfin motions to the dark-haired girl who Tucker and Reid stare at with unmistakable vehemence. “Must at least make offer.”

  “Offer?” Sampson asks.

  “To stay,” Vix nods, catching his eye. “When we were captured, they brought us here, like you,” she glances to the rest of us. “They kill all trespassers—you know this. If one of our group would prove themselves a tribesman, he or she would be granted the rights of a Zingfinold and the rest of us could stay here as their guests.”

  “So who…” Sampson glances from Vix to the girl to Able and then to Walker. “You?”

  “You’re a tribesman?” I turn to him.

  “Someone had to do it,” he shrugs.

  “So what does that mean?”

  “It means I’m a Zingfinold, so I’m granted the same rights as they are.”

  “Sampson,” Vix says, drawing his attention back. She inhales deeply through her nose, glancing between his bright blue eyes, “one of you will have to do the same.”

  The Rogues, Pratt and I exchange looks. Reid and I find each other, holding one another’s stare for the longest time and I think we might last in it forever. Just as I start praying it won’t be Reid, Sampson speaks up again.

  “I’ll do it.”

  “You cannot,” Vix shakes her head. “Part of the deal is inhabitance. You would have to stay here and Blovid needs you… wherever he is.”

  “No,” Clarence shakes his head, placing his hand on Sampson’s shoulder. “You can’t save the day this time, old friend. Let someone else—”

  “The Arizals need you just as much as me and we can’t ask the Rogues or the girls to do it,” Sampson lowers his voice to a whisper. “You know the Zingfinolds won’t have made it easy. There will be a task or a test. A dangerous one and I can’t risk…”

  “Walker survived,” Clarence motions to him.

  I find Reid again, my heart racing at the thought of him volunteering for whatever task they might have. But someone’s got to do it. And Pratt and Mae aren’t even possibilities. So that leaves me, Reid and the Rogues, and I sure as hell know Reid won’t let me go in his place. So it’d be up to the five Rogues. Who is the most likely to volunteer?

  Sampson turns to Hozfin, “Will you allow us to bring back a few of the Nazual if one of our group proves themselves a Zingfinold tribesman?”

  The king nods.

  “What must be done?” Clarence asks. “What is the task comprised of?

  “Three,” Hozfin says, “three tasks need complete to become Zingfinold tribesman.”

  “And that is?”

  “First,” the king shifts in his seat again, “must display strength. Must prove ability over fellow tribesman in duel. If win, will proceed to second task—diligence. Must climb mountain to retrieve Ludin bones. If succeed, will proceed to final task—bravery. With Ludin bones, must kill Horrop. Only then will be proven true Zingfinold.”

  “What’s a Ludin and a Horrop?” Pratt asks.

  “Ludin is large flying creature, poison bones. Horrop is land animal,” the king gestures to his own red and black hide which covers his lap. “Very difficult to kill.”

  My eyes fly to Reid again.

  Please don’t volunteer. Please don’t volunteer. Please don’t volunteer…

  “When will these three tasks
be completed?” Clarence asks the king.

  “Tomorrow. Or no Nazual and you leave,” he exhales. “I make Fychu fair offer.”

  “When do you need to know who will join?”

  “Now.”

  Sampson and Clarence quickly turn to themselves, whispering with hot, fast words as the Rogues all lean in, doing the same. Tucker shakes his head but Reid nods with certainty as Jace, Werzo and Booker conceal their nauseated expressions.

  Please don’t let it be Reid. Please don’t let it be Reid. Please don’t let it be Reid…

  I glance at Pratt, finding the familiar fear in her eyes. I knew it’d be dangerous when we arrived, but this? With someone’s life on the line for three incredibly dangerous tasks? And that it could be Reid?

  “Yes!” his whisper turns to a demand as Sampson and Clarence breach the Rogues’ conversation. They all exchange a few more words when the king clears his throat.

  “What your choice?” he asks.

  Reid steps forward and my heart about falls out of my chest. But just as he opens his mouth, Tucker moves in front of him, speaking first. “Me. I want to be a Zingfinold.”

  Chapter Twenty-One: Homecoming

  The room is stunned into silence.

  All of the Rogues, Sampson, Clarence, Pratt and I look at each other, and then at him. Reid is only a step behind, mouth agape and staring into the back of Tucker’s head with utter shock. His eyes dart around, as if trying to quickly recalculate the situation and make it as originally planned—that it’d be him facing the three tasks instead of his second in command.

  Hozfin nods. “What your name?”

  “Tucker,” he inhales from deep in his chest. “My name is Charles Tucker.”

  “Tucker,” the king nods, “tomorrow, you perform three tasks. If you no complete, you die. If you succeed, you join Zingfinolds and friends may stay as guests.”

  “And they’ll be able to bring a few of the Nazual back to Mybyncia?”

  “Yes.”

  “Thank you,” he turns back to the group, past a shell-shocked Reid, who’s still trying to figure out how this happened or, better yet, how he allowed this to happen. Reid takes a moment and, seeing things have clearly concluded, spins to join the others, placing himself between Sampson and Tucker, his focus down on the red fabric-lined floor.

  “Warze,” King Hozfin beckons and the lieutenant steps forward, “make preparations for tomorrow.”

  “Yes.”

  “Fychu and friends will stay for night,” he waves his arm dismissively, concluded with our lot for the time being. “If Tucker no succeed tomorrow, Fychu and friends leave.”

  “Yes.”

  “Fychu,” the king calls, “you and friends stay with other humans for night. You obey Walker.”

  “Thank you, King Hozfin,” Sampson bows his head. “The Arizals appreciate your generosity and hospitality.”

  Hozfin nods, motioning us out.

  “Come on,” Walker leads us past the red curtain and once outside, he produces a small knife. He leans me against the tree before going down the line and cutting open everyone’s wrist restraints. When he gets to Reid, he makes it as quick as possible, the two trying not to look at one another. Finally, Walker returns to me, his grin returning full force and he takes his time sawing the twine that keeps my hands bound.

  “There…” he cuts me loose. “This better?”

  I rub my wrists, thankful the prickly restraint is no longer digging into my skin. “Tons.”

  “Any time,” he winks, stepping back and glancing down the rest of the line. “At least you all are freed for the night.”

  “You were kept bound?” Pratt asks.

  “He had no choice; didn’t know who we were. Come on,” Walker turns, “I’ll take you back to our area.” He leads us down a sloping bridge crafted from an enormous branch. It’s hollowed out except for the wide steps carved right into the dark wood, the sides of the branch wrapping around, curving back toward mid-hip.

  Everyone follows Walker down, Sampson and Clarence in front of the line, while Jace carries a sleeping Mae toward the middle. Pratt, Booker and Werzo surround him with Tucker moving behind, lost to the sight of the branch below. Reid joins my side and silently wrapping his arm around my waist, helps me trail after the others. It’s like he wants to smile but can’t quite muster the expression and so, we walk in silence down a couple more wooden stairwells until reaching another bulging tree about half the size of Hozfin’s.

  “Home sweet home,” Walker holds back the red curtain.

  Reid and I enter last and when we do, I’m taken aback. The room is almost exactly like the king’s—red fabric lines the entire space and jars of yellow, oversized fireflies are placed everywhere.

  “This is where you live?” Pratt glances around.

  “Not bad, right?”

  “Not bad—it’s awesome!” she dives onto the red cushions in the corner as Jace lays Mae down beside her.

  “What do you think, Fallon?”

  “It’s great,” I grin as Reid sets me on the same seat with the girls. I point around the space, “Are they all like this?”

  “What?”

  “The rooms.”

  “Homes,” he smirks. “They’re not rooms. Homes.”

  “Homes,” I clear my voice. “Are all the homes like this?”

  “Well…” Walker steps closer with a shrug, “about, yeah. It differs though. Younger tribesmen get smaller homes. Older tribesmen—bigger. And since I completed the three tasks, I’m awarded a higher honor, so, if Tucker succeeds, he’ll get one like this.”

  “I guess that’s incentive,” Tucker murmurs.

  “I can’t believe you did that,” Reid grumbles.

  Tucker gestures to the red curtain, “You need to go back to Mybyncia and there weren’t a lot of options. At least I can do this for Ariana.”

  “We’d decided I’d do it.”

  “It doesn’t always have to fall on you, Boss.”

  “It’s not terrible,” Walker shakes his head. “Being here. You’ll get use to it. The Zingfinolds are good people.”

  “And what about the tasks?” Sampson asks. “Did you find them very difficult? Very dangerous?”

  “Well…” Walker places his hands on his hips and steps back to consider with a short chuckle. “It wasn’t easy. Just uh… pray you get a younger tribesman. Mountain’s not terrible either—mind your footing. And when you’re going against the Horrop, sort of strike under its neck or belly. Dance around a bit, you know, tire him out,” he glances over to Tucker. “I think you can handle it.”

  The red curtain suddenly flaps back and Vix and Able rush through, the girl with jet-black hair carefully treading in behind them. Reid and Tucker both glare at her before focusing on Able who makes his way over with a beaming grin.

  “No shit… really?” he slaps hands with each. “Rox? Rogue Leader? Jace—what’s up man?” he turns to me, equally ecstatic and pulling me into a hug. “Fallon! Can’t believe you’re actually here!”

  “Can’t believe you’ve been here all along!” I squeeze him tightly, ecstatic to see my best friend again. “Thought you were gone.”

  “What… dead?” he laughs, releasing me. “No… definitely not dead. Why’d you think that?”

  “Where else would you be?” Jace chuckles. “Couldn’t find your body, man.”

  “So you assumed I died?”

  “That or you vanished.”

  “Or got eaten,” Werzo adds.

  “Oh…Werzo… you’re here too, huh?” Able nods, glancing toward Pratt and Booker. “Hey Pratt! You doing alright?”

  “Hey Able,” she grins. “Doing good.”

  “Good,” he moves towards Booker. “What’s going on, man?”

  “Rogue Commander.”

  Jace elbows him. “No need for titles.”

  “But…”

  “No, he’s right. You can call me Able,” he slaps hands with the last Rogue before glancing between Tucker
and Reid. “So when’d you get here?”

  “Just now,” Jace says. “Like twenty minutes ago.”

  “And the Zingfinolds got you, huh?”

  “Weren’t here more than a minute.”

  “Yeah… they’ll do that. Kind of thought I might die…” he chuckles uncomfortably, “…when we first arrived.”

  “It’s because we almost did,” Walker laughs.

  “Yeah,” Able nods, the memory replaying behind his eyes. “We’re blind and bound and then they sit us in front of this huge motherfucker and he tells us about these three tasks one of us needs to complete or else we’re all dead. Kinda shit my pants when he said that. We’re on Harrizel and the next second, we’re here, captured with no way of telling anyone.”

  “You had Vix…” Pratt tries.

  “Yeah, but she had no pull. None of us did.”

  “Is it only you guys?” Tucker asks, gesturing to Walker and Vix before allowing his eyes to roam to the girl.

  “Only us…” Able nods. “Why? How many people were missing?”

  “Not a lot,” Tucker shakes his head, “but…” he glances at the girl again, “just want to know who else might be here.”

  “Just Vix, me, Walker,” his eyes flicker to Reid, “and…”

  “Perry,” Tucker nods.

  “Hi boys,” she smiles. Moving slowly into the room, she stops near Walker and arches a brow as though waiting for the controversial greeting.

  I’ve seen her before. Long, straight black hair pulled into a tight pony-tail at the crown of her head, which is petite, just like the rest of her. She has dominant dark features, which are both beautiful and frightening. Beige and black animal hide adorns her flawless caramel skin, covering the necessities while revealing just the faintest bit of cleavage.

  And her name… Perry.

  I’ve heard it before. At some point on Harrizel, when I wasn’t paying attention. But when? And why? Perry. It stuck with me, but not in a positive way, like it was said during some uncomfortable or stressful conversation.

  “Why am I not surprised you survived this?” Reid crosses his arms.

  “I take it you’re not happy to see me?”

  “No one’s ever happy to see you.”