[Lorien Legacies 04.0] The Fall of Five

by Pittacus Lore

  “There’s a fun topic,” mutters Six.

  John is undeterred. “I know some of the stories—okay, probably all of them—aren’t really the happiest. But I think it’s important for us to remember how we got here and what we’re fighting for.”

  Looking over at Five, I understand what John is doing. He’s hoping that by telling their stories, the Garde might get their newest member to open up a little.

  “Speaking as one of the new arrivals, I’d really like to hear what you’ve all been through,” says my dad.

  “Yeah,” Five chimes in, surprising everyone. “Me too.”

  “Okay,” says John. “I can start.”

  John launches into a story that’s more than familiar to me. He starts during his arrival to Paradise, after years on the road. He talks about meeting Sarah and me, and how it became harder and harder to keep his Legacies a secret.

  John concludes his tale with the battle at our high school, Six’s nick-of-time arrival and Henri’s death. We’re all quiet after that, none of us sure what to say.

  “Oh damn,” Nine says. “I almost forgot.”

  Nine reaches under his chair and produces a bottle of champagne chilling in a bucket of ice. I shoot a quick look at my dad, but it doesn’t look like he’s in the mood to play responsible adult. Instead, he holds out his glass. Quickly, Nine circles around the table, pouring for everyone. Even Ella gets a little bit.

  “Where did this come from?” Eight asks.

  “My secret stash. Don’t worry about it.” Finished pouring, Nine raises his glass. “To Henri.”

  Everyone raises their glasses and toasts Henri. He keeps it together well, but I can tell John is touched by the gesture. He looks down the table and gives Nine a small nod of thanks. Hell, even I’m a little surprised by Nine—between this and our little heart-to-heart in the doorway earlier, I might have to upgrade him from total douche bag to minor tool.

  “Maybe you guys should recruit the entire town of Paradise to fight for us,” Five says. “It sounds like a real alien-friendly place.”

  “We should get that on bumper stickers,” I say. “‘My Honor Student Fought Aliens at Paradise High School.’”

  “I can go next,” Six says. She keeps her story quick, starting with her capture with Katarina, moving on to their imprisonment and jumping quickly to her escape.

  “To Katarina.” This time, it’s John leading the toast. Everyone raises their glasses again and we drink to Six’s fallen Cêpan.

  “And that’s why you don’t post shit on the internet,” Nine says, referring to Six’s story, but aiming a sharp look in Five’s direction. Five gazes back at Nine, saying nothing.

  “You were both close with your Cêpans,” Marina speaks up. “My story is a little different.”

  Marina tells us about growing up in Spain, how her Cêpan Adelina basically neglected her, not giving her the training or knowledge that the other Garde take for granted. I’m kind of stunned that a Loric would behave that way. It’s never occurred to me that they could shirk their responsibilities. It could be a really bitter story, but the way Marina describes it is sadder than anything else. Her voice gets warm when she talks about Hectór, the human who took it upon himself to protect her. In a weird way, the story almost has a happy ending, with Adelina finally accepting her duties even if it meant dying. I guess that’s not super happy, actually, but the way Marina tells it makes it at least seem heroic.

  Eight raises his glass. “To Hectór and Adelina,” he says.

  Nine goes next. Apparently, it was Nine’s fault that everything fell apart in his life. He fell for a human girl who was secretly working for the Mogadorians, and she led him and his Cêpan into a trap. Nine glosses over what happened to them once they were captured. Having some firsthand experience with the horrific things that go down in West Virginia, the dark look in Nine’s eyes when he finishes doesn’t surprise me at all.

  “To Sandor,” John says.

  “To Sandor and his champagne,” adds Eight, which gets a smile out of Nine.

  “I guess you really got lucky,” Five says to John, jerking his thumb in Sarah’s direction. “She could’ve been a Mog spy too.”

  “Hey,” Sarah replies. “Not cool.”

  “They forced her,” growls Nine, referring to the girl he’d fallen for. “No human in their right mind would willingly work for those sons of bitches.”

  “Except the government is . . . ,” I say, remembering the agents that transported me from West Virginia to Dulce.

  Nine turns to me. “Well, any human that’d work with those albino ash-monsters can’t be in their right mind.”

  “Or maybe they aren’t willing,” John says. “I have to believe that most humans, if they knew the truth, would be on our side.”

  “I used to distrust humans,” says Eight. “Reynolds, my Cêpan, was betrayed by a woman he’d fallen in love with. It took me a while to get over that, but eventually I came to believe in the inherent good of humanity.”

  Eight goes on to tell us how he learned to control his Legacies, and that he eventually came into contact with the local villagers who believed him to be the Hindu god Vishnu reincarnated. Even though the Mogadorians knew his location, they weren’t able to get to him because of a human army that protected him.

  Five studies Eight, nodding, looking like something new and amazing has just occurred to him. “That’s great,” he says. “You tricked them into thinking you were one of their gods.”

  “I didn’t mean to trick them, exactly,” says Eight defensively. “I regret not being more honest.”

  “You shouldn’t,” continues Five. “I mean, it’s great if you can, like, make friends with the humans like John and Marina did. Otherwise, better to have them fighting for you than plotting against you, right?” He glances over at Nine. “Better to be in control than blindly chasing pretty human girls around.”

  Nine leans forward, like he’s about to get out of his seat. “What’re you trying to say?”

  “Mistakes have been made,” John interjects carefully, “but we need to remember that the humans are fighting the same enemy we are, even if they don’t all realize it yet. We can’t fight this battle alone.”

  “To humanity,” I say jokingly, raising my glass. Everyone looks at me and I put my glass down, feeling a little light-headed.

  It’s tense for a moment. Nine is still staring down Five. Ella raises her hand. “I’d like to share,” she says.

  Her story is unlike any of the others I’ve heard. She wasn’t sent to Earth with the other Garde. Instead, her rich weirdo father shoved her onto a spaceship along with the family’s butler and a bunch of Chimæra. Looking around the table, I get the sense that not even some of the other Garde have heard this whole story. John looks particularly confused and Six listens intently.

  “Wow, Ella,” John says. “When did you learn all this?”

  “Yesterday,” she replies matter-of-factly. “It was in Crayton’s letter.”

  Marina raises her glass. “To Crayton. A great Cêpan.”

  Everyone follows suit. Ella’s gone quiet. I can tell this Crayton guy meant a lot to her.

  “Just think,” muses Five. “If our spaceship hadn’t made it to Earth, you’d have to save the planet all by yourself.”

  Ella’s eyes widen. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “You could handle it,” Nine says, grinning.

  “So . . . ,” John says, looking at Five. “We’ve all told you how we came to be here. Your turn—how have you managed to stay hidden for so long?”

  “Yeah, dude,” Eight chimes in. “Spill it.”

  Five slouches down in his chair. For a moment, I think he’s just going to stay silent and hope that everyone forgets about him, like a kid hiding out in the back of a classroom. He’s great at making pointed little comments when other people talk, but when it’s time to tell his own story he’s more than reluctant.

  “It’s not, um, exciting like your stories w
ere,” Five begins after a moment. “We didn’t do anything special to stay hidden. We just got lucky, I guess. Found places where the Mogadorians weren’t looking for us.”

  “Where was that, exactly?” John asks.

  “Islands,” answers Five. “Tiny islands where no one would think to look. Some that aren’t even on maps. We’d go from island to island, sort of like how you guys traveled from town to town. Every few months we’d go to one of the more populated places—sometimes Jamaica, or Puerto Rico—and trade in some of our gems for supplies. Otherwise, we kept to ourselves.”

  “What happened to your Cêpan?” Marina gently asks.

  “Uh, I guess I do have that in common with the rest of you guys. He died. His name was Albert.”

  “Mogadorians?” Nine asks, his voice hard.

  “No, no, it wasn’t like that,” Five answers, hesitating. “It wasn’t some big battle or brave sacrifice. He just got sick and after awhile he died. He was older, I think, than the way you guys describe your Cêpan. He could’ve passed for my grandfather. I don’t think the voyage to Earth was good to him. He was always ill. The warm climate helped some, I guess. We were on this little island in the south Caribbean when it got really bad. I didn’t know how to help him . . .”

  Five trails off. We’re all silent, letting him take his time.

  “He—he wouldn’t let me get a doctor. He was too worried that if he was examined, they’d discover something about him and we’d tip off the Mogadorians. I’d never even seen a Mogadorian. It all seemed like make-believe to me.” Five laughs bitterly, almost as if he’s mad at himself. “For a while, I even convinced myself he was a crazy man that’d kidnapped me. That he cut these scars into my leg while I was sleeping.”

  I try to imagine what life must have been like for Five, never interacting with anyone but a sickly old man. It goes a little ways to explaining why he seems so awkward around the others.

  “It wasn’t until my telekinesis developed that I really started to believe Albert. And that’s also when he got really sick. On his deathbed, he made me promise that once my Legacies had fully developed, I’d try to find you guys. Until then, he made me promise to stay hidden.”

  “You did a good job of that,” Six says.

  “I’m sorry about Albert,” adds Ella.

  “Thank you,” Five says. “He was a good man and I wish that I’d listened to him more. After he was gone, it was easy for me to just go through the motions. I kept island-hopping, keeping my distance from everyone. It was—um, lonely, I guess. The days went by in a blur. Eventually, my other Legacies developed and I came to America, hoping to find you guys.”

  “What happened to your Chest?” John asks.

  “Oh yeah, that,” Five replies nervously, scratching the side of his head. “I traveled mostly by boat. Albert had taught me to find the kinds of ships that wouldn’t, you know, ask too many questions. When I first landed in Florida, there were way more people than I was used to. A lone kid carrying around that damn Chest—I felt like everyone was staring at me. Like I’d just found some buried treasure on one of the islands or something. Maybe I was being paranoid, but I thought everyone was looking to steal it.”

  “So what did you do with it?” John presses.

  “I didn’t think it was smart for me to keep carrying it around. I found a secluded spot in the Everglades and I buried it there.” Five looks around at the group. “Was that a bad idea?”

  “I buried mine for pretty much the same reason,” Six answers. “When I went back for it, someone had taken it.”

  “Oh,” Five sputters. “Oh, crap.”

  “If your Chest-hiding skills are as good as your regular hiding skills, I’m sure it’s still there,” Eight says optimistically.

  “We’ll want to get that as soon as possible,” John says.

  Five nods eagerly. “Yeah, of course. I remember exactly where I put it.”

  “The Chests are imperative,” my dad blurts out. He pinches the bridge of his nose, which I’ve noticed he’s started doing whenever he’s struggling to remember something. “Each of the Chests contains something—I’m not sure exactly what, or how it works—but there are items in those Chests that will help you reconnect with Lorien when the time comes.”

  Everyone’s staring raptly at him now.

  “How do you know that?” John asks.

  “I—I just remembered,” my dad replies.

  Nine looks over at me, then back to my dad. “Uh, what?”

  “I suppose it’s time for my story now,” he says, staring at all the expectant faces. “I should warn you that there are gaps in my memories. The Mogadorians did something to me. They tried to tear what I knew out of my brain. Things are coming back to me now, in pieces. I’ll tell you what I can.”

  “But how did you find that out in the first place?” Eight asks. “We don’t even really understand what’s in our Chests.”

  My dad pauses, looking around at the group.

  “I know because Pittacus Lore told me.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  YOU COULD HEAR A PIN DROP.

  John is the first to speak. “How did he tell you? What do you mean?”

  “He told me in person,” my dad replies.

  “You’re telling us you met Pittacus Lore?” exclaims a skeptical Nine.

  “How is that possible?” Marina asks.

  “We found a skeleton in your workshop wearing a Loric pendant . . .” John swallows hard before continuing. “Was that him?”

  My dad lowers his gaze. “I’m afraid so. When he arrived, his wounds were so grievous that there was nothing I could do for him.”

  Now the questions come on in a rush.

  “What did he tell you?”

  “How did he get to Earth?”

  “Why did he pick you?”

  “Did you know Johnny thinks he’s Pittacus resurrected?”

  My dad motions downward with his hands, like a conductor would when he’s trying to quiet a noisy orchestra. He looks exhilarated by all the questions, and simultaneously like he’s struggling to remember the answers.

  “I don’t know why I was chosen out of all of Earth’s population,” my dad explains. “I was an astronomer. My particular area of interest was in deep space, specifically with trying to make contact with alien life forms. I believed that there were signs here on Earth of visitation from aliens, which didn’t exactly make me popular with some of my less imaginative colleagues.”

  “You were right, though,” says Eight. “The Loralite is here. Those cave paintings we found in India.”

  “Exactly,” continues my dad. “Most of my peers in the scientific community dismissed me as a madman. I suppose I must have seemed like one, ranting on about extraterrestrial visitors.” He glances around. “And yet, here you are.”

  “Thanks for the résumé,” interrupts Nine, “but can we get to the Pittacus part?”

  My dad smiles. “I’d begun sending communication bursts into space from my laboratory using radio waves. I believed I was on to something. This was on my own time. I’d been—ah, dismissed, I suppose, from my position at the university.”

  “I kinda remember that,” I say. “Mom was pissed.”

  “I don’t know what I was expecting from my experiments. A response, certainly. Perhaps a burst of alien music or images of a strange galaxy.” My dad snorts, shaking his head at how unprepared he was. “I got more than I bargained for. One night, a man showed up at my door. He was wounded and rambling—at first I mistook him for a crackpot or a vagrant. And then, before my very eyes, he grew.”

  “Taller?” Six asks, an eyebrow raised.

  My dad chuckles. “Indeed. It doesn’t seem like much now, considering all I’ve seen, but it was the first time I’d seen a Legacy at work. I wish I could say that I reacted with proper scientific curiosity, but instead I think I did a fair bit of screaming.”

  I nod. Sounds like the Goode way.

  “A Garde on Earth,” breathes
Marina. “Who was he?”

  “He called himself Pittacus Lore.”

  Nine scoffs and shoots John a look. “Everyone thinks they’re Pittacus!”

  “You’re saying you met an Elder?” John says, ignoring Nine. “Or someone claiming to be an Elder?”

  “What did he look like? What did he say?” Ella asks.

  “First, he told me he that his injuries were caused by a hostile alien race that would soon be coming to Earth. He told me he would not survive the night and . . . he wasn’t wrong.” My dad closes his eyes, willing his brain to work. “Pittacus told me much in the short time he had left, but I’m afraid the details are fuzzy. He asked me to prepare a group of humans to receive you, to help your Cêpans get on the run, to provide guidance. I was the first of the Greeters.”

  “What else did he tell you?” John asks, sitting forward eagerly.

  “One thing I remember is about your Chests. The Inheritances. He told me they would each contain something—he called them Phoenix Stones, I think—taken from the heart of Lorien. Although he called them stones, I don’t think we need to take that literally. The Phoenix Stones could come in any shape or form. And when restored to your planet, these items should jumpstart the ecosystem. I believe, right now, you are in possession of the tools to bring your home world back to life.”

  Marina and Eight exchange an excited look, perhaps thinking about that lush Lorien that John’s always going on about.

  “But what about the Chests we’ve already lost?” Six asks. “I thought the contents were destroyed when their Garde dies.”

  My dad shakes his head. “I’m sorry, I don’t have an answer to that. I can only hope that what remains of your Inheritance will be enough.”

  “Look, restoring Lorien is cool and all,” Nine says, “but I’m not hearing anything that’s going to help us kill Mogadorians or protect Earth.”

  “My Cêpan told me each of us would inherit the Legacies of an Elder,” Eight says. “I always thought I was Pittacus, but . . .” He glances over at John, then shrugs. “Did he tell you anything about that?”

  “No,” my dad replies. “At least, not that I can remember right now. When your Cêpan said you’d inherit the Legacies of an Elder, he might not have been speaking literally. It could have been a metaphor for the roles you will grow up to take on in a rebuilt Lorien society. It can’t be as simple as you becoming the Elders, because three of you are already lost. And Ella’s presence here seems to indicate that nothing is so cut and dry.”