Plague of Mybyncia (4 page)

“And our responses will also be translated?”
Tucker’s voice rings like the same intercom.

“They will—yes,” Clarence begins, “but leave
the conversing to Sampson and myself at first. Just at first.”

“Fellow Arizals,” Salva says in a strong,
velvety voice, “please leave all weapons here. You will find them
again in your quarters.” We all do as she says, standing our rifles
against the walls and once satisfied, she looks to Sampson and
Clarence. “Follow me, please.”

With Qippert at her side, Salva leads us
through a tunnel at the other end of the space, past one of the
torches. It’s a short distance before we come to another room, this
one much larger than before. It boasts the same high rounded walls,
like we’ve stepped inside half a hollow bubble but in the middle of
the space is a huge glistening pool and wading in the center, a
creature like none I’ve ever seen.

It’s
enormous
.

Larger than an elephant, or maybe even a
whale, it has dark gray, rubbery skin and fins the size of cars.
Deep crater-like pockets coat the creature’s back, from its flat,
broad head all the way down to its thick black tail which
disappears below the water’s surface. Immense red saucers flicker,
studying us as steam exhales through two yard-length slits.

“This is Gala,” Salva says. “She is my
Stancimis, and will take you to the Docking Station.”

“Is this thing even safe?” Werzo winces.

“Gala is a trusted friend. You need not worry
about your well-being where she is concerned,” Salva scampers up
the beast’s back, nearly flattening herself as she hooks her hands
and feet into Gala’s pocketed craters. “Come, we must leave.”

Qippert ascends next, followed quickly by
Clarence who offers his hand to me. “Ladies first again.”

I allow him to pull me up and once I’m
situated—with my hands and feet tucked into her back’s grooves—Mae
starts up once more, retreating from the group with small,
calculated steps. Already shaking her head, she bites her lip and
places her palms up in defense. “No. I… I can’t. I’ll fall
off.”

“You won’t fall,” Sampson assures her. “We’ll
all be there together.”

“No,” she gulps, “no—I’ll fall. I know I
will.”

“Fychu…” Qippert starts, “the queen and
chancellor await you.”

Sampson nods, returning focus to Mae. “I’d
rather not subdue you like before.
Please
,” he gestures
gently to the giant Stancimis, “you will be
perfectly
fine.”

Heat rises to her cheeks as her panicked eyes
flicker from Sampson to Gala. Just as she starts to shake her head
again, Sampson quietly raises his fingers to her neck and Mae’s
frazzled body suddenly goes limp. He scoops her into his arms
before she falls and carrying her over, he hands her off to
Clarence.

“She’ll need some sort of relaxant when we
get to the FH,” Sampson leaps on the Stancimis’s back, helping
secure Mae in place, “we may have to keep her subdued until after
meeting with the queen and chancellor.”

“It is best she be awake,” Salva looks back.
“It is wise to meet her hosts and for them to see her as well.
Questions will be raised if she is not present and conscious.”

With Clarence’s assistance, Pratt climbs up
next, followed by Booker, Werzo, Jace, Tucker and lastly Reid, who
keeps to Gala’s left fin. He gives Sampson a nod and lowers himself
in the same clutching position, grasping the crater handles and
locking his feet in place.

“Hold on,” Sampson’s voice echoes.

Gala slowly descends and I grip her back
tighter. Sinking lower and lower, I look up to find the pool is a
mere small opening above. We’re drifting deeper and deeper into the
darkened abyss, far from any light until the Holding Station
disappears completely and then it’s down.
Way
down.

Don’t let go. Just don’t let go.

Stancimises swim unbridled in the distance,
singing to one another in low, musical hymns, but Gala soars past
them, diving down. I’m afraid I’ll be crushed from the immense
pressure but I don’t feel anything. In fact, it’s the same as if I
was only a few feet underwater, except down here, it’s dark.
Black
. Past anything recognizable. We must be a few miles
beneath the surface by now and my grip on Gala’s craters hasn’t
lessened.

“We’re nearly there,” Sampson’s voice
comforts through our headgear.

Another long minute of descent before the
darkness abates and is slowly replaced with its warm opposite.
Barely visible at first, a small light glows from somewhere below
and as we submerge even deeper, the light blossoms and the entire
ocean suddenly fills with the soft, golden hue.

It’s the city—the Capital City of
Pryncbia—and in the center, standing like a monument to the
underwater World, a titanic castle of pinkish-golden coral
dominates everything in sight. It’s surrounded by collections of
connected coral structures that barely meet the height of its
lowest tower. The tallest, almost a mile from the ground, reaches
high into the darkened waters, the last light before blackness
hits. The other towers aren’t really towers at all, but divisions
within the structure, each competing in stature and strength and
overall grandeur.

Gala steers us right, towards one of the
larger, rounded platforms as Mybyncians swim past, mostly on
Stancimises while others race on long-necked creatures that
disappear in a flash throughout the city. Guiding us lower, the
giant Stancimis heads for a hanging ledge until we’re underneath
it. She begins to ascend for the oval opening in the golden coral
above, and it takes only seconds to hit the surface. When we do, I
let out the breath I didn’t realize I was holding and look
around.

We’re in a very similar atmosphere to the
Holding Station. It’s the same dank, low-lit space but in here, the
walls
are actually offering light. I’m not sure what I was
expecting, but the room literally glows, illuminating the bulbous
space and its one tunnel out.

Salva dismounts first. “Welcome to the
Docking Station.”

Qippert jumps down after her, hands clasped
behind his back and already heading for the tunnel. Sampson and the
Rogues dismount next and then it’s my turn. I’m about to climb down
when Reid appears with an outstretched hand. My heart quickens as I
look from it to his face, which is preoccupied elsewhere, as though
unaware of his gentlemanly gesture. Without giving it another
thought, I accept Reid’s assistance and he helps me off Gala.

Sampson removes his headgear and the Rogues,
Pratt and I quickly follow. I wedge the dome between my hip and
arm, watching as Clarence hands Mae off to Sampson before
dismounting. He removes his own helmet, gesturing to her sleeping
form. “You’ll need to wake her up.”

Removing her headpiece, Sampson pinches Mae’s
neck and her eyes flash open, wide and startled. They dash
everywhere, quickly trying to take in the new environment as
Sampson places her on her feet.

“Where…?” she gulps.

“In the Docking Station in the FH. Really,”
Qippert addresses Sampson, “we
must
be going. The queen and
chancellor know you have arrived. They are eager to receive you so
we must not keep them waiting. Now,” he gestures to all of us to
follow him, “if you please.”

“Aren’t you going to change into your true
form?” I join Sampson’s side.

He shakes his head. “It would be better if we
all retained a sense of conformity, especially after today’s
attack. The queen and chancellor are fully aware that Clarence and
I are Dofinikes, but it would be best if our entire group held the
same image; avoid confusion.”

I nod.

“We’ll address that arm afterward,” he
glances to it before focusing on a shivering Mae. “Just remain
quiet and be calm. You’ll have a break here after this next part.
Alright,” he motions us behind Qippert as we all tunnel out. “Time
to meet the queen.”.

We’re in a grand hall.

Draped from the ceiling’s center, strands of
pink pearls line the walls while iridescent shell mosaics depict
battle scenes across the glowing, golden room. It’s about three
times the size of the Docking Station and the entire floor stands
packed with Mybyncians in a myriad of colored floor length tunics.
But I’m too focused on everything else to really notice the crowd
of sage bodies, especially with the impressive throne positioned
high in the center of the room.

It’s fashioned from the same glowing golden
coral and below it, three identical thrones sit, still towering
high above the Mybyncians’ heads. All four seats are occupied but
from this angle, it’s difficult to make out anything. Qippert moves
through the crowd, leaving Salva to remain with us at the tunnel’s
entrance.

“Your Majesty, Chancellor Keller,” his voice
projects, “may I present Fychu Sympse and the humans of
Harrizel.”

“We’re on,” Sampson guides my shoulder,
following the others as we make our way through the crowd’s
center.

The mayan atop the highest throne peers down,
her sage face an impassive mask as we approach the center of the
floor. A stark white mane has been pulled back and a crown of pink
pearls sits atop her lifted head. Two iridescent shells cover her
breasts, attached to rows of stringed white pearls that drape
around her delicate shoulders and behind her chest.

“Queen Ravan,” Sampson bows as Qippert,
Clarence and the rest of us quickly follow. “We are at your
service.”

“Welcome, Fychu Sympse of Dellapalania,” her
regal voice projects, casting an echo around the occupied hall. Her
bright orange eyes flicker over us curiously. “Humans of
Harrizel.”

With Clarence’s covert gesture, we bow
again.

“I regret to inform you that your visit is
ill-timed. Blovid has fled; just earlier, in fact.”

“Yes,” Sampson agrees, slow to approach. “We
cannot begin to apologize for the damages—”

“We were aware of the danger he possessed
when we offered sanctuary. Apparently, others of your kind do not
keep to such codes of honor.”

“
Vermix
, your Majesty,” Clarence
lowers his head.

She shifts her cool gaze to him. “And you
are?”

“Clarence,” he bows again, quickly adding,
“your Majesty.”

She narrows her eyes. “You were an inhabitant
of Ellae during the attack.”

A slight wince, but Clarence recovers
quickly. “I was.”

She turns to Sampson again, her voice void of
any emotion. “Your apologies are unnecessary. Blovid has been a
long-time ally of Mybyncia. As an Arizal, he is offered the same
protection as our own people. As a distinguished Fychu, you and
yours,” she indicates to us, “are as well.”

“With many thanks.”

“But I cannot allow anymore of my people
hurt. During your time here, it will be in
peace
.”

“Of course.”

“And how long do you anticipate your stay to
be?”

“Until you no longer require our aid. We
would like to assist in any repairs or—”

“It is being handled by Chancellor Keller,”
she indicates to the Mybyncian with dark blue hair at the foot of
the thrones. He stands tall in a black and purple floor length
tunic, his eyes shifting over us, his face hardened but curious.
“Most of the assault was here, on Pryncbia’s beach, but there was
an attack on our Southern Waters as well. It is known throughout
the Three Worlds that we do not host a FH there.”

“So they were searching for something else?”
Clarence asks.

She looks at him. “We believe there were
multiple purposes in accosting our waters.”

“Did the Vermix depart shortly after
Blovid?”

“In the Southern Waters, yes. But some have
yet to leave—I would imagine that you have run into a few
already.”

Clarence and Sampson exchange glances.

“As I have said,” Queen Ravan goes on, “it is
being handled by Chancellor Keller. He has his guard sweeping the
beach as we speak, and has quarantined the Northern Shore so the
remaining Vermix will not spill to the three other shores and cause
harm to any more of my people. My daughter Ariana,” she motions to
the three thrones beneath her, to the lavender haired princess on
her far left, “barely escaped with her life. I will
not
have
my daughters harmed.”

“Of course not,” Sampson nods again.

“Chancellor Keller will have many more
prisoners to interrogate by night’s end. We should know more at
that time.”

“Do we think…?” Clarence glances between
Sampson, Qippert and the queen. But Sampson shakes his head,
quieting the thought.

Queen Ravan nods. “Yes we do.”

“And is it well hidden?” Clarence asks.

“Mybyncia has protected our Gift since it was
bestowed. I have all the trust in the chancellor to keep it
secure.”

“And you should your Majesty,” he steps back
and turns to face her. “The Vermix will
not
discover its
location. This I vow.”

“Very good,” she looks over us again. “But
enough talk of this. For now, let us adjourn so you may rest and
later, we will celebrate your arrival with a feast.”

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Werzo
whispers, earning a swat on the back from Clarence.

“Chancellor Keller will show you to your
quarters,” the queen rises as her three daughters follow. “Enjoy
your stay, Fychu Sympse, Clarence of Dellapalania…” her orange eyes
flicker over us curiously again, “…humans of Harrizel.”

The entire hall waits for the four to leave
and once they’ve gone—disappearing down the backside of the thrones
and escorted by a fleet of attendants—everyone moves about,
departing through the various tunnel, the space quickly
emptying.

“Clarence of
Ellae
,” he mutters to
himself as Sampson offers a woeful smile. They turn to us, along
with Qippert and Chancellor Keller, who’ve made their way over.