[Lorien Legacies 04.0] The Fall of Five

by Pittacus Lore

  “Today, we cement a lasting peace between humans and Mogadorians,” continues Setrákus. “At last, we will finally stamp out the final threat to our glorious existence.”

  This sure doesn’t look glorious. The humans have clearly been beaten down over months and months of Mogadorian occupation. I wonder how many would join me if I tried to charge Setrákus Ra. Probably none. I don’t feel angry at them, but angry at myself. I should’ve saved them, should’ve prepared them better for what’s coming.

  Setrákus isn’t done giving his speech. “On this historic day, I have chosen to bestow the honor of sentencing to she who will one day succeed me as your Beloved Leader.” With a grand gesture, Setrákus Ra motions to Ella. “Heir? How do you rule?”

  Heir? That doesn’t make any sense. Ella isn’t a Mogadorian, she’s one of us.

  I don’t have time to figure out what this all means. I watch as Ella rises shakily from her throne, seeming almost drugged. She stares down at Six and Sam, her eyes dark and impassive. Then, she gazes into the crowd, her eyes settling on me.

  “Execute them,” Ella says.

  “Very well,” Setrákus replies.

  He bows deeply and then, in one fluid motion, chops off Six’s head with his sword. The crowd is deathly silent as her body topples over, so quiet that I can hear Sam screaming. He falls across Six’s body, crying and yelling.

  I feel the searing pain on my ankle. A new scar is forming. I close my eyes as Five lifts up Sam, turning him towards Setrákus Ra’s blade. I don’t want to see what happens next, how badly I’ve failed them all. It’s not real, I repeat to myself.

  It’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not real. . . .

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  I KNOW HE’S GONE. I CAN STILL FEEL THE LINGERING pain from the new scar on my leg. I might never stop feeling that; it could be with me for the rest of my life.

  I have to try.

  I fall to my knees in the mud next to Eight’s body. The wound doesn’t even look so bad. There’s not as much blood as there was in New Mexico, and Eight lived through that. I should be able to heal this, right? It should work. It has to work. But this one is right on his heart, straight through. I press my hands across the puncture and will my Legacy to kick in. I did it before. I can do it again. I have to.

  Nothing happens. I feel cold all over, but it’s not the iciness of my Legacy.

  I wish I could lie down next to Eight here in the muck and just shut out everything that’s going on around me. I’m not even crying—it’s like the tears have gone out of me and I just feel hollow.

  Just a few yards away, Five is shouting but my mind can’t process what he’s saying. The blade he used to stab Eight has retracted back into its wrist-mounted sheath. His hands are on his head, like he can’t believe what he’s just done. At the base of the tree, Nine has fallen silent, in a state of shock. If only he’d shut up moments ago and not egged Five on. Six is finally struggling back to her feet, looking groggy, trying to make sense of the new scar on her ankle. Everything has fallen apart.

  “It was an accident!” Five is babbling. “I didn’t mean to do that! Marina, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it!”

  “Be quiet,” I hiss.

  That’s when I hear the dreaded hum of a Mogadorian ship’s engine. The tall grass around us begins blowing wildly as the sleek silver vessel starts descending from the sky. This was all just a setup orchestrated by Five, so of course he’d have backup waiting in the wings.

  I lean over and touch a gentle kiss to Eight’s cheek. I want to say something, to tell him what an amazing person he was, how much better he made this terrifying life we’re forced to lead. “I’ll never forget you,” I whisper.

  I feel a hand on my shoulder. I whip around to find Five standing over me.

  “It doesn’t have to be this way,” he’s saying, pleading with me. “This was a horrible mistake, I know that! But everything I said is the truth.”

  He’s insane. Insane to touch me. I can’t believe he’d even have the audacity to do that after what he just did. “Shut up,” I warn him.

  “You can’t win, Marina!” he continues. “You’re better off joining with me. You—you—” Five stammers as his breath mists in front of his mouth, the humidity around us cut by a sudden chill. His teeth chatter. “What are you doing?”

  Something in me snaps. I’ve never felt anger like this before and it’s almost comforting. The icy feeling of my healing Legacy spreads through me, but it’s different somehow; freezing and bitter and dead. I’m radiating cold. Near Five and me, the murky swamp water crackles as the surface turns instantly to ice. The plants within my radius begin to wither, drooping under the flash freeze.

  “Ma-Marina? Stop . . .” Five, hugging himself to keep warm, takes a step away from me. His feet nearly go out from under him as he slips on the ice.

  With this new Legacy coursing through me, I act on pure furious instinct. I jerk my hand upwards and the ice takes shape beneath Five, a jagged icicle forming from the ground and thrusting upwards. He’s not quick enough to get out of the way and the icicle stabs straight through his foot, pinning him to that spot. Five screams, but I don’t care.

  Five pitches forward and grabs at his impaled foot, just as another icicle juts up from the ground. It strikes Five right in the face. If it was any larger, it would’ve probably killed him. Instead, it merely takes out one of his eyes.

  Five falls to the frozen ground awkwardly, his foot still impaled. He clutches at his face, screaming. “Stop it! Please, stop it!”

  He’s a monster and he deserves this. But no. I can’t do it. I’m not like him. I won’t kill one of my own people in cold blood, even after what he’s done.

  “Marina!” Six shouts. “Come on!”

  The Mogadorian ship has landed and its doors are opening. Over by the tree, its branches now sagging under the weight of fresh ice, Six has thrown Nine over her shoulder. She holds her hand out to me.

  I take one last look at Five. He holds both his hands over his face, grasping at his ruined eye. He’s crying, the tears turning to frost on his cheeks.

  “If I see you again, you traitorous bastard,” I yell, “I’ll take the other fucking eye!”

  Five makes a weak gurgling sound. Pathetic.

  I’m about to run to Six, but stop. At my feet, encased in a solid chunk of ice, is Eight’s body. As I realize what I’ve done, the air around me begins to warm up. I kneel down and press my hands to the sheet of melting ice that separates me from Eight. I want to take him with us, to keep him away from the Mogadorians and lay him to rest like he deserves, but there’s no time to wait for the ice to melt. Six is shouting at me and the Mogs are closing in.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper, feeling numb all over.

  I race over to Six and grab her outstretched hand. We turn invisible.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  I SNAP AWAKE AND SIT UP RAMROD STRAIGHT IN a bed that isn’t my own. I know immediately that I’m back in reality, the searing pain of a new scar burning into my ankle enough to wake me up. But wait—that nightmare wasn’t supposed to be real, I shouldn’t have actually gotten a scar. And yet, I can feel the burned skin, stinging and raw, the pain more than skin deep.

  That part of the nightmare was real—we’ve lost someone.

  I don’t have time to think things through, barely even have time to assess my situation. Sam is shouting at me.

  “JOHN! GET DOWN!”

  There’s a Mogadorian standing in front of the bedroom window—a broken window, cold air blowing in from outside. When did that happen? He’s aiming a cannon at me. My instincts take over and I roll to my left, just as the Mog shoots the space where seconds ago I was comatose. From the floor next to the bed, I shove the Mog with my telekinesis. He flies backwards, out the window and into the empty air, and plummets to the street below.

  It’s bedlam, the chaos in the real world more intense than in Setrákus Ra’s vivid nightmare. The bedroom has been comp
letely torn apart by blaster fire. Sarah is standing in the doorway, using a broken bookshelf for cover. With one arm she cradles Ella’s still unconscious body and with the other she haphazardly sprays machine gun fire into the hallway. Beneath the gunfire, with my enhanced hearing, I can hear Mogadorians swarming through the penthouse. There’s so many of them, yet for some reason it doesn’t seem like Sarah’s taking any return fire.

  It’s because she’s holding Ella, I realize. Setrákus Ra wants—I can’t believe I’m even thinking this, haven’t even had time to process what it means—his heir brought in alive. That’s why the Mogs aren’t shooting at Sarah; they’re afraid to hit Ella.

  Sam is on the floor next to me. He’s cradling Malcolm, who has a massive blaster wound in his midsection. His breathing is shallow and he’s barely conscious; it doesn’t look like he has long left.

  “What the hell happened here?” I shout to Sam.

  “They found us,” Sam replies. “Someone betrayed us.” I remember seeing Five in that Mogadorian uniform and I immediately know the truth.

  “Where’s everybody else?”

  “They went to the Everglades for the mission.” Sam points at my leg, his eyes wide and frightened. “I saw your ankle light up. What—what does that mean?”

  Before I can answer, I hear Sarah scream. Her gun is making an empty clicking sound and, realizing that she’s empty, the Mogs have descended on her. One of them reaches through the doorway and buries a dagger deep into her shoulder. She falls to the ground, grasping her shoulder as another Mog reaches in and yanks Ella violently from Sarah’s arms.

  I light up my Lumen, but it’s too dangerous to launch a fireball while the Mogs are holding Ella. They’re out of range quickly, disappearing down the hallway in retreat. I reach out with my telekinesis and drag Sarah over to us.

  “Are you all right?” I ask, quickly looking over the wound in her shoulder. It looks bad, but not fatal. Sarah looks stunned and relieved to see me awake.

  “John!” she exclaims, and yanks me in close with her good arm. It’s not even a half-second hug, Sarah shoving me away, realizing the danger. “Go! You have to stop them!”

  I leap to my feet, ready to tear off after the retreating Mogadorians. I stop myself, looking down at Sam and his father. Malcolm is still alive, but fading fast. The way Sam crouches over him, holding his hand, it reminds me of that night at Paradise High School when I was powerless to stop Henri from dying. I could save him, I realize.

  Healing Malcolm would mean letting the Mogs escape with Ella, though. It would bring Setrákus Ra closer to what he wants—a future that I still don’t entirely understand, but one where Ella rules over humanity alongside him.

  Sam looks up at me, his cheeks wet with tears. “John! What’re you waiting for? Go help Ella!”

  I think of that Sam I saw in the nightmare, how tired and beaten down he looked, his spirit gone out of him. I think of how badly it hurt me to lose Henri. I can’t let my friend go through all that, not after he and Malcolm have just found each other again.

  Letting Ella go, the future I could be dooming her to—no, there will be time to stop that later, I tell myself. I have to help Malcolm now.

  I kneel back down and press my hands to Malcolm’s stomach and his wound begins to close slowly beneath my touch. Finally, some color begins to return to Malcolm’s face, and his eyes open.

  Sam is staring at me. “You let them take her.”

  “I made a choice,” I reply. “They won’t hurt her.”

  “How—how can you know that?” Sarah asks.

  “Because Ella—” I shake my head. “We’ll save her. We will stop them. All of us, together, I swear.”

  Sam grabs my shoulder. “Thank you, John.”

  As soon as I’m finished with Malcolm, I turn my attention to healing Sarah. The wound in her shoulder is clean. She brushes her fingers against my cheek while my Legacy is working.

  “What happened to you?” she asks. “What did you see?”

  I shake my head, not wanting to talk about the vision until I’ve really had time to figure out what’s happened. Unlike Sam, I don’t think Sarah noticed the new scar appear on my ankle, and I don’t want to bring that up either. It’s quiet now—the Mogs have retreated with Ella—but we still need to get out of here. There’s no way the cops missed this battle. I just want to get Sarah healed and all of us somewhere safe. “Looks like you kicked some ass while I was out,” I say.

  “We did our best,” she replies.

  Sarah’s wound all healed up, I glance around. “We need to move. Where’s BK?”

  I see Sarah and Sam exchange a grim look. My heart drops.

  “He went to the roof to hold them off,” Sam says. “He didn’t come back.”

  “He’s tough. He could still be alive,” Sarah says.

  “Yeah, definitely,” Sam replies, but he doesn’t sound confident.

  Thinking about BK and whichever one of the Garde is dead in the Everglades almost makes me break down. I bite down hard on the inside of my cheek and focus on the pain. I stand up—there will be time for mourning later. Right now, we need to get out of here before the Mogs decide to come back and kill us.

  “Time to go,” I say, helping Malcolm to his feet.

  “Thank you for saving my life, John,” he says. “Now, let’s get the hell out of this place.”

  The four of us rush out of the bedroom with Sam helping Malcolm along. The lights have all gone out, a circuit probably blown during the fighting. There aren’t any Mogadorians waiting for us in the living room, but I can see by the destruction that they’ve definitely done some redecorating. For a moment, I imagine how mad Nine will be when he gets back. If he’s even alive. And then I realize that we’re never going to be able to come back to this place. It was a good home for a while, but now it’s gone, destroyed like so much else by the Mogadorians.

  Through the shattered windows, I can hear sirens wailing from the street below. This attack by the Mogadorians was way more brazen than usual. It’s probably going to be pretty hard to sneak out undetected.

  Amazingly, the penthouse elevator is still operational. I hustle Sarah, Sam and Malcolm inside and hit the button for the parking garage, but I don’t get in the elevator.

  “What’re you doing?” Sarah cries, grabbing my arm.

  “We won’t be able to come back here. It’s going to be crawling with cops and probably the feds that work for the Mogs. I have to get our Chests and see if I can find BK.”

  Sam steps forward. “I can help you.”

  “No,” I reply. “Go with Sarah and your dad. With my telekinesis, I can carry them myself.”

  “You promised we’d stay together,” Sarah says, her voice shaky.

  I pull her close to me. “You’re my getaway driver,” I tell her. “Get the fastest of Nine’s cars and meet me by the zoo. You guys shouldn’t have a problem getting out, but they might be looking for me. I should be able to jump to the next roof and get down that way.” I step back from the elevator, then lunge forward to plant one last kiss on Sarah. “I love you,” I tell her.

  “I love you too,” she replies.

  The elevator doors hiss closed. I race through the destroyed penthouse and back to the workshop. It’s been wrecked too—all this hard work, the Lecture Hall never to be used again. I try to think only practical thoughts. What should I take with me? The first thing I grab is the tablet that shows our locations. Four dots still displaying in Florida—damn it, that’s one too few. I’m not ready to focus on the identity of the one we’ve lost or what to do about Ella or the fact that Setrákus Ra might actually be Loric.

  I grab a stray duffel bag from beneath an overturned table and duck into the Lecture Hall to load it up with guns. I stow the tablet in there too and throw that over my shoulder. I want to keep my hands free, just in case any Mogs are still lurking around, so I levitate all of our Chests with my telekinesis. With all the windows blown out, I can easily hear the sirens wailing
down below. This is all I’ll be able to carry. It’s time to get back on the run.

  The Inheritances floating behind me, I run out of the workshop and back through the penthouse. I need to get to the roof and see if BK made it out alive.

  Before I can reach the stairs, the elevator dings open. Damn it—I was too slow.

  I look over my shoulder, expecting to see some of Chicago’s finest with guns drawn. Instead, it’s a lone Mogadorian. Pale as usual, dark hair in his face, younger than normal, and he looks different than other Mogs I’ve seen, more human. A gun pointed in front of him—at me.

  All the Chests thunk to the floor as I redirect my telekinesis, snatching the gun out of his hands. “Hey!” he screams, and if he says anything else, I’m not listening. I’m thinking about the friends I lost tonight. The dark future I had to suffer through. Killing this straggler Mogadorian won’t change any of that, but it’s a start.

  I pitch a fireball in his direction, but he dives out of the way, hiding behind the torn-up husk of a couch. I lift it up with my telekinesis and fling it aside. He holds up his hands, surrendering. I’d probably think that was weird if I was thinking at all.

  “Too late for that,” I growl.

  Just as I’m about to hurl another fireball at him, the Mog stomps on the floor. The whole room shakes, furniture tipping over, the carpet rippling like there’s a wave passing underneath it. And then the seismic jolt knocks me backwards, stumbling, and I feel the cold fingers of open air clawing at my back. Stupid—I was standing right in front of a broken window. I swing my arms, desperately trying to regain my balance.

  But I don’t fall. He’s got me. The Mogadorian has grabbed me by the front of the shirt.

  “I don’t want to fight you!” he shouts in my face. “Stop attacking me!”

  As soon as he’s reeled me back in, I shove him away. He doesn’t come at me, but he remains crouched, ready to dodge anything I might throw at him.

  “You’re Four,” he says.

  “How do you know that?”

  “They know what you look like, John Smith. What all of you look like. And so do I—” He hesitates. “Except I also remember seeing you as a child. Running for a ship while my people murdered yours.”