The Green Knight (Space Lore Book 1) (23 page)

Morgan arrived back with the others a moment later. “I got him,” she said, the barrel of her blaster still smoking, but no one said anything.

Vere stood over her dying friend, watching her twitch. Noticing everyone else around her, half of whom hadn’t even known A’la Dure, she furrowed her brows. Between clenched teeth, she said, “I’ll catch up with all of you. Go.”

When she saw Morgan still standing there as if she
 
doubted her, Vere clenched both fists and punched the tree trunk next to her. That was enough for the group to give her space and continue forward through the Forest of Tears.

Beside her, the last of the Scyphozoans drifted away as peacefully as it had arrived. When Vere looked back down she saw the final remnants of the poisonous energy seeping into A’la Dure’s body. Even so, it would be an hour, maybe more, before anyone else could touch her without also becoming sick. Her friend’s teeth clattered against each other. Her legs and arms quivered with tiny tremors. Her fingers were curled and frozen.

Knowing her friend was dying, it devastated Vere not to be able to take A’la Dure’s hand in her own and offer some sort of comfort as she lay there. Even worse than not being able to at least squeeze her friend’s hands, to keep them from shaking uncontrollably, was not knowing what to say in these final moments. Was she supposed to remain silent? Offer a story of happier, simpler times? Reminisce about the past? Say everything was going to be all right even though it obviously wasn’t? None of it seemed like the correct thing.

A’la Dure’s teeth were still chattering.

“I’m sorry,” Vere said. “I…” She didn’t know what else to say.

It was A’la Dure who spoke next. “Be…”

Vere leaned closer. “Yes?” Was that the way her friend’s voice would have normally sounded or was it strained as she lay there dying of the Scyphozoan’s poison. “Yes, what? Be what?”

Vere was only inches from A’la Dure’s face now, willing her friend to finish her sentence.

A’la Dure uttered only one other word. In all the years they had known each other, they were the only two words Vere had heard the other woman speak.

“…better.”

And then the violent shaking that racked her entire body slowed until it was completely gone and she lay motionless.

Vere stood and closed her eyes. Part of her wanted to believe A’la Dure hadn’t gotten the chance to say everything she had intended. Part of her wanted to look for something other than what she knew it meant. It was useless, though.

Be better.

One of the only people who had known her after she had run away, one of the only people who had accepted her for who she was and for the flaws she carried with her, wanted her to be a better person. Not a better daughter. Not a better sword fighter. Not even a better pilot or thief. A better person.

Her eyes still closed, Vere took a deep breath, then exhaled. After the air was gone from her lungs, she felt lightheaded and dizzy. She opened her eyes and looked down. Her friend had the appearance of someone who had simply lain down on the ground and fallen asleep. There were no wounds, no burns. The violent tremors had given way to a serene stillness.

She looked behind her at where the Scyphozoans had been, half expecting them to come back and claim her friend’s spirit as an additional tear in their forest. The soft blue lights were gone, however, leaving only a dim glow far off in the distance.

Be better.

The words echoed in her head.

“I will,” Vere said. “I will. I promise.”

Looking to where Fastolf, Morgan, and the others were making their way through the woods, she thought about starting off after them. Before she did, however, she crouched down to the ground and brushed a big pile of leaves into a hill which she then pushed on top of A’la Dure’s body. It was the second time in as many days that she was leaving a friend to rot in the forest. And for the second time she promised to come back and give a proper burial when this was all over.

When she caught up to Traskk, she patted him on the shoulder and said, “I’m sorry I pushed you. I know you were just protecting me,” and he let out a pleased reptilian purr and wrapped his tail around her waist in a hug as they walked.

49

Aboard the Commander Class Athens Destroyer, General Agravan stood in full space armor even though he was in his own quarters. In front of him, a holographic display appeared between him and the window that looked out at the galaxy. The image was that of a middle-aged man with an overly thick jaw, black hair, light purple skin, dark purple eyes, and fine robes. It was like looking at an adult version of what Minot would become.

“My lord,” Agravan said, offering a slight bow, “Two more days until the invasion of Edsall Dark begins.”

“Very good, General Agravan.”

“If Artan’s daughter does not turn him over to us in that time—which I am sure she will not—the invasion will commence. I will personally take the fleet through in a few hours just in case they turn the Tevis-84 portal off.”

“They won’t.”

“My lord—”

“Arrangements have been made.”

“Arrangements, my lord?”

“Yes. The portal will remain open. Even as you send the fleet through and they see the sky filling with Athens Destroyers, they will leave the portal open.”

“You are sure, my lord?”

“Yes. All you have to do is send the fleet through in two days’ time and the planet and the entire CasterLan Kingdom is ours for the taking.”

“They have strong defenses.”

“They are of no concern to us. I would not put Minot’s safety at risk. It has all been arranged.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“And how is my boy doing?”

“He will honor the Vonnegan name.”

“Indeed. He will learn how to become an excellent ruler after you have defeated Artan and his daughter.”

“So it will be, Lord Mowbray.”

50

Vere didn’t speak the entire next day. When Fastolf put his arm around her as they walked, she gave him a sad smile but continued on in the direction of CamaLon.

“I can’t stand to see you this way,” he said.

The only recourse he knew was to offer her the comfort that his flask brought. Each time he offered it, she gave the same pitiful smile, sighed, and took a sip.

Finally, Morgan motioned for Fastolf to come look at the map she carried, even though Pistol was his own radar, map, and navigation system all in one. She watched as the rest of the group continued walking without them. After they were a safe distance away, she held the map out for Fastolf to see.

Confused, he said, “But it’s upside down.”

Before he could say anything else, she took hold of his ear the way she had in Eastcheap. She wrenched it so painfully hard that he gave an involuntary cry and dropped to one knee. The urge struck him to yell out so someone would turn and see what was happening and help him, but Morgan was either an expert on the weakness of men or else saw his pleading eyes dart toward Vere. She ripped her hand sideways, sending a wave of searing pain through the side of his head that kept him silent and dropped his other knee to the ground.

“What’s your problem?” Morgan hissed. When he tried to answer—she had no idea if he was going to offer a smart-aleck response or a candid analysis of why he acted the way he did—she squeezed his ear even harder, hearing cartilage break. “She needs to keep her head straight. I don’t care if you drink yourself to death, but she has the most important day of her life coming up.”

She relaxed her grip on his ear just enough that he could think straight and come back up to his feet. As soon as she did, he cocked his hand back to punch her and she reapplied the pressure. His ear gave a sickening crunch and he dropped to his knees again.

“I’ve had enough of you,” she said. “You’re lucky I don’t kill you right here.”

He offered a series of pitiful cries and incoherent sobs. The flask in his hands dropped to the ground. Seeing it there, Morgan wound back and kicked it across the forest floor as far as she could.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

This time, when she released the pressure on his ear, he didn’t fight, but only said through the tears, “I can’t just sit back and watch her life crumble apart. She lost two of her best friends. All she has left is me and Traskk.” He stared at her, his lip trembling, before he added, “I don’t know any other way to help her.”

It was probably the first sincere thing the fat drunk had said in ten years, but instead of being sympathetic, Morgan said, “She has an entire kingdom that needs her. All the people who call her father their king need her.”

“But she doesn’t care about them,” Fastolf said, again being completely frank. Then, thinking about what he’d said, he put his hands over his ears and curled into a ball.

“It’s okay,” Morgan said. “I’m not going to hurt you… and you’re right. She doesn’t care about them. I know that. But that doesn’t mean she won’t care about them when she sees the Vonnegan fleet coming through the portal to destroy everything she knows. That’s why we have to keep her head straight.”

“But Occulus,” Fastolf said, crying. “A’la Dure.”

“I know. I’ve lost people I loved too. Everyone has. But life goes on. Life always goes on. That’s why I’m here in this godforsaken forest with you. It’s why Baldwin left his home and had his nose broken twice in two hours. Do you think we want to be doing this? But it’s what we have to do and so we do it.”

In the distance, Vere called out, “Is everything okay back there?”—the first words she had spoken since A’la Dure’s death.

Morgan held up a hand and said they were fine. Then she pulled Fastolf up off the ground, brushed the dirt off him, and got him walking in the right direction again.

Right before they caught up with the others, she said, “I don’t want to see a flask again.” When Fastolf didn’t reply, she added, “I know you probably have more hidden on you somewhere,” and Fastolf’s shoulders came up toward his ears in fear.

“What was that about?” Vere asked her heavy friend, but Morgan answered for him: “Just strategizing for when we get to CamaLon.”

“Whatever,” Vere said, walking away without wanting to hear any more, not believing Fastolf would offer anything in the way of planning, and not caring what the truth was anyway.

Periodically, Baldwin withdrew a communications device, pressed some buttons, then put it back in his pocket.

“Still no signal.”

“Save your time,” Morgan said. “Obviously, someone is trying to make sure we can’t call for help. Whoever it is, they’re intent on making sure we have no contact with the rest of the CasterLan Kingdom.”

Traskk growled a series of noises through his long fangs, his forked tongue lashing out as he spoke.

Even without knowing Basilisk, Morgan could guess what he had said and replied, “I’d guess the same person or persons who put the hit out on Vere wants to make sure she doesn’t get back to the castle anytime soon, if at all. I’d also guess that someone is out there who wants the Vonnegan army to arrive and get the payback they’re looking for.”

Vere looked over at her but didn’t say anything. She noticed that the next time Fastolf took a drink from his flask—smaller and slightly different in shape than the one he had been carrying earlier—he slipped it back in his pocket without offering her some.

“How much longer?” Baldwin said.

Without slowing down or turning back, Pistol said, “Approximately eighteen hours, if we keep this pace.”

“How much further until we get out of the forest?”

“Approximately two hours and five minutes.”

Only a minute later, they came upon a pond in the forest with a large wooden house in the middle of it. A quarter mile back, the entire two-story cabin had blended in with the trees. Now, directly in front of them, it seemed much too large to have gone unnoticed. A bridge connected the tiny island that the cabin was built on with the rest of the forest, making the pond around it resemble a moat more than a place to relax and get a swim.

Vere, Fastolf, and Baldwin all began walking toward it when Morgan said, “Where are you all going?”

“We’ve been walking for five days with almost no break,” Vere said.

“You heard the android,” Morgan said. “We’re only eighteen hours away.”

Instead of being insulted by being called a thing rather than being referred to by his name, Pistol remained staring without expression. His eyes focused only in the direction of CamaLon.

Vere said, “And we’ll be dead on our feet when we get there if we don’t rest. How much help will we be to anyone if we can’t function?”

Morgan saw the look in Vere’s eyes, saw she wasn’t trying to cause problems, wasn’t excited at the thought of drinking and thieving in the lodge.
 

“All right,” she said, “We rest for two hours,” but the group was already crossing the bridge, passing over the moat without seeking her permission. With a groan, she turned and crossed the bridge as well. Pistol waited at the edge of the bridge, content to remain where he was until needed again.

The planks were thick, made of wood from the surrounding forest. Through the tiny sliver of a gap between each plank, they could see the movement of little creatures the size of their fingers, swimming in the pond five feet below.

The cabin’s front door was also solid wood, the same as everything else. It gave a loud groaning creak when Traskk pushed it open.

Inside, the cabin looked more like a miniature fort than a house. There were stone blocks and ornaments like the castles of old had been decorated with. A great room revealed wooden tables and benches and a pair of fires, one on either side of the hall, to keep guests warm.

“Welcome!” a woman with slightly pink skin said, coming down the steps from the second floor. “I welcome you to our humble dwelling.”

“What is this place?” Vere asked. “I’ve never seen this inn before.”

“We are fairly new,” the woman said, smiling and holding her hands out to show off the cabin. “The Scyphozoans attract many a tourist. We offer guides to take people into the forest to see the spirits, as well as lodging when they return.”