Escape from Harrizel

by C. G. Coppola

  But Reid is already shaking his head. “The Kings work for Tetlak. They’re part of the problem. They’ll sell us all out before we’d be able to establish peace talks. No,” he says again, ducking under his bed, “there’s no point.”

  “What are you looking for?”

  “Uh…” he shuffles the navy rags, something clinking in the folds. His face reddens as he picks up a solid glass flower with a cluster of long, heart shaped petals. It’s the same color and consistency as the sheets of dried gibb carried in transport. He holds it out to me. “I had the Carpenters make it.”

  I pinch the stem between my fingers as I look to Reid.

  “Lame, right?” he runs his hands through his hair. “I thought about bringing you the real thing but uh, they’d dry out and die. This way,” he glances at it, “it’ll never wither.”

  I’m staring at the glass flower, completely lost for words.

  Reid exhales, crossing his arms over his chest. “Come on, say something. You’re killing me here.”

  “Uh…” I gulp, heat erupting within. “Thank you?”

  He runs his hands down his face. “I knew it. It was dumb.”

  “No! I just…” I glance at the flower in my hand, “…I didn’t expect…”

  “It’s not like I can take you out on a date. I just thought…” he clears his throat, avoiding my eye as he glances around the room. “I don’t know what I thought. Anyway,” he shrugs, “it’s for you. We uh,” he plants his hands on his hips, “we should probably get going.”

  “Okay,” I place the flower back on his bed, “can I pick this up later?”

  He nods, leading us out of the room and down to the Courtyard in silence. We meet up with Sampson and the others in one of the tunnels that lead out into the underground roots. Everyone stands around, lost in small talk until Reid and I emerge under Sampson’s lantern of babeebs.

  “Let’s go,” Reid instructs, leading the way with Sampson at his side. We move in relative silence through the underground tunnels but halfway out, I make my way to Able’s side. He grins at me but I don’t return the expression. I’m still deciding what I want to say.

  “Reid gave me a flower.”

  “Yeah…” he glances at me, “I know.”

  “Your idea?”

  “Uh…” he laughs, “I think it was a collaboration. Jace, Tucker… even the Carpenters tossed around a few ideas and that’s what we came up with. Why?” he frowns. “You don’t like it?”

  “No, I do. I just…” I shrug, “I wasn’t expecting it. I think I hurt his feelings.”

  “Rox?” he laughs. “Takes more than that to hurt his feelings. If he thinks you don’t like it, he’ll try something else.”

  “Did he ask you guys for help?”

  “Nope,” Able shakes his head. “Rogues have been spitting out ideas since they knew about you. Anything to keep him happy and away from Ansley.”

  “Really?” warmth spreads through me. “Why would they go to the trouble?”

  “You have to understand something,” he slows, turning to me with a heavy exhale, “no one left the Kings. No one. And more than half wanted to. So, when Rox did what he did, he sort of liberated us. And then, when we thought we’d go hungry, he had food for us. Always. He was out here every night for hours so we could eat drug free. Every night. He never asks anything for himself so why shouldn’t we help where we can? Rox is a good guy,” Able starts moving again and I’m at his side, “and every Rogue feels like he owes him. They’re willing to do about anything for him.”

  “And that includes girl stuff?”

  “Whatever keeps him happy.”

  I nod, running over everything.

  “But,” Able shrugs, “since we’re on the subject… mind helping me out here? If you’re not a fan of the flower, what would you like?”

  “I don’t want anything.”

  “Fallon,” he stops us again, “come on. Reid’s going to ask and I’d like to have something to tell him.”

  “But I don’t want anything.”

  “Well, you better think of something,” he starts us walking again, “because if I have to sit through another session about the importance of helmets, I’m going to lose it. Thank God Jace suggested the flower.”

  Able and I walk the rest of the way in silence until reaching the end of the tunnel. There’s extremely little light, except for the handful of babeebs, so maneuvering outside takes a minute. But once we emerge, I know we’re close to the ruins. I can feel them. Inhaling the damp foliage, I scan the thin white mist settling over the ground, blanketing it as the leaves rustle from a soft breeze.

  Reid passes out fold-up basket devices to each of us.

  “Tucker, Able, Jace,” he gestures to the far left, “over that way, not past that first wall,” he indicates a broken stone structure that disappears into the canopy. “Simon, Ando, Niles, Sampson, maybe right here in the middle, and Vix, Pratt, Fallon,” he gulps, “to the right.”

  Everyone disperses at his command, moving for his or her designated area.

  “Here,” Vix indicates, pointing to a plump bush of Marowines, dotting the plain of grass ahead, “all out here. You take them like this,” she crouches, tugging the thick brown root from the ground and plucking the swollen red berries. She places them in her basket and reaches for another root, yanking out five more. “Once you fill your basket, just press down like this,” Vix retrieves what looks to be the basket top, but pushes it down, almost to the bottom. I think she’s squishing the Marowines and expect the red juice to gush forth but nothing is happening. “They’re pliable,” she explains, “that’s why we collect so many. We can bring more back.”

  “What about the Gupples and…”

  “Reid, Jothkore and Sampson usually collect them.”

  I glance at Pratt who’s at another bush, the bottom of her basket already filled. I walk past her and Vix, heading out further, giving myself distance from them and the others. Finding a small gathering of bushes up ahead, I crouch, plucking the Marowines free the way Vix showed me.

  The night is quiet and the jungle stills, the mist thickening to an opaque fog. I lose myself in the plucking, lost in thought over this evening. Over yesterday. Over being out here—being this close to the ruins and their call to me. Emptying each Marowine bush of the red berries as I come to them, I wander farther ahead. I push down the top like Vix instructed, and once the basket is filled, I find another bamboo separation and do the same, pushing it as low as it goes. I find a few more of the bamboo separations and with my basket not even half-full, I know I should be able to collect plenty.

  Wandering up further and past more of the yellow-tongued bushes, I start to feel it. The call. That instinctive voice that sings to me, like part of my soul I was unaware of. It exists somewhere deep inside, only awakening when I’m near them.

  I’m close to the ruins.

  Glancing behind me, Pratt and Vix are lost to the smog and I’ve found myself in the middle of an opaque lushness. Closing my eyes, I allow the voice to navigate me and start moving in its direction. I move a few feet, my eyes shooting open when I trip over a root. But Sampson catches my hand before I fall.

  “Best watch your step out here.”

  “Sampson!” I grasp onto him. “Sorry!”

  “It’s quite alright,” he grins, clutching my hand to help me over the root, “but it’s probably best to keep your eyes open. Why were they closed?”

  “Just…” I motion ahead, to the stacks of broken ivy-coated walls ahead, “trying to find my way.”

  “You found it. Let’s explore then, shall we?”

  “Definitely!”

  “So, how are you this evening?” Sampson tosses out as we walk past a net of swinging vines and into the clearing of broken walls.

  “Fine—I’m glad we’re out here,” I turn to him with sudden excitement, “can we pick up that conversation from yesterday? Where I get to pick your brain a little?”

  “Of course. And
what an opportune environment,” he walks past the first ivy-coated wall, dipping below hanging vines. “What would you like to know?”

  “I want to know more about you, about your culture. About this place,” I gesture all around me, its name on the tip of my tongue. But I can’t will it. I can’t hear it. It’s right there…

  “Ellae.”

  I stop, the jungle pausing with me. Sampson holds my stare, trying to register something in my eyes, in their reflection of how I respond to the sound of that name. The corner of his mouth tweaks, a gleaming smile throbbing beneath the robin’s egg blue of his eyes.

  “Ellae,” he repeats, stepping forward, his palm flat against the stone remains, “my home. For a short period of my life…” his fingertips trail gently down the ivy, “and the best. It was quite beautiful at one time… lively. Wonderful. We all honored the Way.”

  “What’s the Way?”

  “A philosophy among the three worlds—Dellapalania, Mybyncia and Nerwolix,” his voice softens at the last name, a wrenching sadness I can almost feel coursing through me. “It’s a belief that all things in life are sacred, all life forms are sacred and should be cherished. It is belief in the Three Gifts.”

  “Three Gifts?”

  “Sight, Knowledge and Ability—one given to each world to hold for all eternity. Together, they create the ultimate weapon,” he narrows his eyes. “Power. To create life… or destroy it. But they’re never to be used together, never to be on the same world at the same time. The Gifts are meant to be kept separate, to keep the peace, the balance,” he sighs. “Not very many still believe in their existence, I’m afraid.”

  “But you do.”

  Immense pain, loneliness and sorrow harden beneath the robin’s egg blue of his eyes. Somehow, I can almost feel it. Feel him wanting to tell me everything, but the thought of using those words all over again brings an agonizing pit of sorrow to his stomach. He wants to call out for her, to say her name just to hear it aloud again.

  How can I know that?

  “I didn’t always but…” he stops, his mind racing again, “…yes, I do.”

  Pratt comes shuffling toward us, swiping hanging ivy from her path. “Reid says it’s time to go.”

  “Already?” I exchange glances with Sampson.

  “Seems a little early,” he says, “doesn’t it?”

  “Well, not everyone. Just me, Fallon and Vix.”

  “Why?”

  “Who knows? But we have to drop off with Reid before we go,” she gestures to her overflowing basket.

  Looking back to the ruins, to Ellae, I take in her splendor once more. Turning to follow Pratt, Sampson joins my side. With our time cut short, I search through my questions from last night and blurt the first one I can think of.

  “How did you save Reid?”

  “Pardon?”

  “When you found him. He said he got shot with venom?”

  “Oh—yes. He fell into a Plausinis Bush,” Sampson shakes his head, “extremely toxic. Only takes one barb and you’re done in hours. Two or more, matter of minutes. I was nearby. I heard him.”

  “But how did you save him? From the Plausinis?” I push through a wall of shrubbery, Sampson following just behind. “What’d you do?”

  “Retrieved a Tregmint,” he takes a breath, anticipating my question. “They can cure any ailment.”

  “What do they look like?”

  “Deep crimson-purple, oval shaped,” he nods, adding as an afterthought, “thick yellow roots.”

  “How’d you know where to find one?”

  “Come on now, Fallon,” he tosses me a mischievous grin. “You’re really going to ask me that?”

  “So you know this area pretty well?”

  “It’s my home…” his voice softens.

  Holding back another net of ivy, Sampson offers me passage and I step into a small clearing, finding the rest of the group. Searching the ground for Pratt’s basket, I find it feet from her own. I walk over and set mine next to it.

  “Here fine?”

  Reid nods. “Thanks ladies. We still have a long way to go so why don’t you retire for the night?”

  “You sure you don’t need any more help?” I look around, searching Able’s face for an explanation. He simply shrugs.

  “No, it’s fine,” Reid nods. “We’ll probably be out here for another half hour or so. Go back, get some sleep.”

  “Okay, well… thanks for letting me help,” I glance to Pratt. “Ready?”

  “Definitely.”

  “Night Sampson,” I follow Vix and Pratt into the bushes.

  We reach the tree in minutes, dropping down into the black tunnel and Vix leads the way, holding two babeebs in her left hand. Pratt’s at her heels, holding a babeeb in her right. I don’t have any, so I stick close to the two of them, moving at their speed in a brisk calculated walk.

  A few minutes goes by before Pratt breaks the silence with an exhausted huff. “What a night.”

  “I’m glad I was finally able to come with you guys,” I admit. “I feel like I need to carry my weight.”

  Vix veers left, into a new tunnel and Pratt follows. “You do carry your weight.”

  “How?”

  But before Pratt can respond, Vix answers ahead. “You inspire them.”

  “Inspire who?”

  “The rest,” she takes another new tunnel but then stops to face me. “You stand up to Tetlak, to Reid. They’ve never seen this. And you speak the truth,” she taps her chest with her free hand, “from your heart. They see this.”

  “It’s true,” Pratt nods, smiling under the golden glow. “They like you.”

  “Well…” and since I’m unsure what to say, I try changing the subject. “At least we were able to get some Marowines. Wish I could’ve stayed longer though.”

  “You were speaking with Sampson,” Vix states rather than asks, taking off again into the tunnel.

  “Yes,” I move closer, just behind her, “he was telling me about Ellae… and the Way.”

  “Aya-vellay,” Vix whispers to herself, touching her thumb to her lips and then, “you have many questions.”

  “Reid believes in it,” Pratt jumps in. “Once Sampson told him about the Way, he’s clung to it like a new religion,” she switches her babeeb to her other hand. “He’s got a little black circle on his chest—got it soon after he met Sampson. It’s some sort of honor, like taking an oath or something.”

  “Chuloo,” Vix nods. “Mark of an Arizal solider. Very honorable.”

  “Does Sampson have one?” Pratt asks, moving quickly behind her. “Do you?”

  Vix nods but doesn’t elaborate. She focuses on selecting the right tunnel when we come to a junction of four. Without hesitation, she picks the second from the left and I’m on her heels, trying to keep up with her long strides.

  “What does it mean to be an Arizal soldier?” I ask.

  Vix stops, slowly turning to us, the babeebs casting a soft golden glow across her smooth, ebony face. “It means discipline. Strength. Courage,” she offers in three quick spurts, “honoring the Three Gifts to keep balance. Protecting the sanctity of life. To be an Arizal is to give yourself to something greater. Something purer,” she turns, leading us through the tunnel again.

  “How did Reid become one?” I follow along quickly.

  “Sampson taught him.”

  “That’s how you all know about the Callixes and everything else…” I turn to Pratt.

  She nods with a half shrug.

  I need to know. The question has been irking me since yesterday and there’s no better time than the present. I try to keep my voice even, “Do you know if—did Reid ever give Ansley one?”

  “Not that I know of,” Pratt shakes her head, “And I’d seriously doubt it.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Like I said—he believes in that stuff. And a Callix pretty much means love. So…” she shrugs, leaving me to make the connection.

  “Reid is an Ari
zal Soldier,” Vix says from up front, “he’ll only give a Callix when he’s ready. When he’s found the one he will want forever.”

  I want to ask a million questions but my mind’s already racing with everything I’ve learned tonight. We head the rest of the way in silence as I ruminate over it all.

  Chapter Seventeen: Issues

  I need to talk to Sampson again.

  I’ve been outside all morning and that’s the one thing I’m sure of. I need to know everything I can. Maybe tonight, when we gather, he can tell me about the Way, the prophecy and Ellae—whatever he told or taught Reid. Every night at gathering, Sampson can tell me more and little by little, I’ll be caught up.

  The dismissal bell screeches and I throw my Senz into the bucket, following the others. Inside the Courtyard, I head for the stairwell but only a few floors up, I feel it. Tossing a casual glance over my shoulder, I see them instantly. Two sets of eyes barreling into mine. Both belong to large, ferocious boys I might’ve seen at some point. They’re vaguely familiar and not in a good way, like they fell into the backdrop of some panicked moment.

  Shit.

  At least I’m not alone. Right now, there are plenty of other people so I’ll be fine if I can make it to my door. I fly up the rest of the way, weaving in and out of bodies, making sure I’m not the last one to my floor. Reaching it, I glance over my shoulder. A knot grows in my stomach. They’re still following, still in heavy pursuit. People are making it back to their rooms. If I can just get to mine. I’m almost to mine—

  My stomach drops.

  Mantis is at my door. There’s a victorious hint to the slight perk in his cheek but it’s overshadowed by his obsidian eyes. They weigh me down, freezing me. He offers a light laugh, as though surprised. “This was easy.”

  “What?”

  “So you’re his new play-thing?” He crosses his arms, circling me. “Has Rox tapped it? It’s not like him to wait.”

  I move for my door and he blocks me.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa…” he plunges his hand to the crimson arch. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  The two that were following me arrive at my back, sandwiching me to Mantis. My heart stops again and then takes off as I play out my options. If I jump into my room—if I can even get in there—they’ll jet in with me and I’ll be trapped. The other possibility is escaping through the scarce crowd, hiding in someone’s room. But whose? I only know Reid and Sampson’s and what if neither went back to their bunker? I’d be trapped outside with Mantis who could just take me by force then.