Crusade Across Worlds (4 page)

Like a Fychu? Could Sampson use the Gifts to
defeat Reuzkimpart?

The Fychu has studied the ways of the
Spirits
, the first one starts again.
He has long sought
spiritual guidance and we have provided him with it since before
his transition. He has excelled in every manner and proven himself
to be noble, honest and humble. But the Fychu was not chosen. He
will not be the one to defeat Reuzkimpart.

Fallon,
the second princess says
,
your studies are at an end for this evening. Continue to trust that
we are teaching you what you need to know, guiding you so this war
will conclude as it must.

I do.

Ask for patience. Ask for strength and
faith. All will be revealed when you are ready to receive it.

Thank you.

The Lost Princesses disappear and Maddox
melts into the ground at their vanished feet. I stand up, dust off
my bottom and head back to my little space a few levels up.
Climbing into my bed, I tuck my curls behind my head and close my
eyes.

Today was the eleventh test.

And I failed for the eleventh time.

I’ll only have one more chance. One more
chance to do the thing that seems impossible. One more chance
before my three months are up. But what if I can’t do it? Will I
really be forced to stay until I can? And how long will that be? My
breath hitches at the thought, my heart hammering nervously in my
chest. I have six more days before I have to try again. Six more to
figure this out. How do I do it? I miss everyone. My chest aches
every time I think of them, which is more often than the Princesses
would like. But I can’t help it. They’re my family. And I’ll do
anything to get back to them.

I’ll do whatever it takes.

***

I get up every morning before sunrise and
begin training on the surface. It’s the whip first. I go over my
routine techniques and then switch hands after twenty minutes,
giving my left arm practice. I switch back again, and then run an
obstacle course made from immense red boulders. As dawn approaches,
I’m allowed a half hour break to eat a provided portion of fresh
vegetation and water. That’s one thing I can say—at least I don’t
have to forage for my own food. With everything the Lost Princesses
have me doing, I’d probably starve if they didn’t feed me too.
After breakfast, it’s twenty minutes of meditation and then
hand-to-hand combat with Maddox.

I was nervous at first. Sparring with a
partner fashioned solely from rock seems like it would be
difficult—not to mention dangerous—especially if I plan on striking
him. But it works out perfectly. Just when I’m about to collide
with his neck or shin and possibly break my hand, he dissolves into
the ground and reappears behind me. And the duel continues. I’ve
taken to wearing a blindfold these last few mornings because I have
to work on sensing better. Not only where he is, but where he
intends to be, what his next move or strike is. Anticipate the
attack. Then counterattack. That’s all successful sparring is.

After a midday meal, I spend my afternoons
studying inside.

I’ve gotten good at using my channels—my
waves of listening to the Lost Princesses who now only speak
internally. It’s the final week. I shouldn’t need to use my vocal
abilities anymore. At least that’s what I’m told. I don’t mind it
so much, except that when you’ve used your mouth to communicate
your entire life, it takes some getting used to. And you find
yourself talking, just a few random words sometimes, just so you
don’t forget what your voice sounds like.

Between strict meditation and
channel-practicing, I delve deeper into the history of the Three
Worlds, learning of their achievements and successes, defeats and
failures and occasionally diving into some important water-washed
moment I need to know. Most are political. Some religious. After I
‘return’ from each trip, I discuss it with the Lost Princesses who
help explain the specific importance.

I’m sharpening my skills, understanding
myself and my surroundings in a deeper way, but I still feel the
same. I still feel… like me.

And tomorrow is the day.

I’ve been looking forward to it for three
months. If I don’t succeed and kill all five Horrops, it may not
happen. I might not be going home. There is still the Great
Reveal—whatever that is—but if it helps me, I’ll take it. I really
should be focusing on how to beat the Horrops, but I can’t stop
thinking about Princess Nhazual. Ever since witnessing her sad
story, it’s constantly on my mind. How heartbroken she was. How he
betrayed her. How she whispered in his ear the second she plunged a
dagger through his heart, “You have killed me.”

The Lost Princesses have said nothing more
about her or about what happened afterward and I’ve been dying to
know. But each time we meet in the afternoon, they have some other
moment to share, some other wisdom to impart. I think about her
relentlessly. I even dream of her. I spend so much time thinking
about the brokenhearted princess that I feel as if I know her, as
if we could have been friends. As if three thousand years didn’t
separate us.

I’m thinking of Nhazual again as I make my
way down for the evening. I’ve already spent the second half of the
day meditating and then retired for a little nap. Now I’ve been
requested back again, probably as some sort of semester-ending test
before the real one starts tomorrow, when I’ll have to conquer the
Horrops. And I still have no idea how I’m going to do that.

Good evening
. I enter the same open
platform I’ve visited every day.

Good evening
, all three chime in
unison.
Please sit.

I do as requested, sitting crossed-legged as
they’ve instructed. Closing my eyes, I’m already concentrating with
full, deep breaths.

Fallon
, one of the princesses says,
open your eyes. Look upon us. You must see what it is we must
show you.

I open them and find the three spirits in
front of me.

You have learned much over the course of
these last weeks. You have discovered the language, customs and
history of the Three Original Worlds. You have looked deep into
their secrets and unraveled mysteries that many have bled over for
centuries. You have looked into their hearts and inhaled their very
being. Now it is time you must look within yourself and discover
your own purpose.

Something sparkles behind them, like a
diamond or piece of glass. It floats closer, just above their heads
and I have to squint to look. It descends between us and I see it.
It’s not more than a foot long, a few inches wide. Jagged on either
end. At once I know it.

Two hundred years ago, the Glass Chamber was
opened. A young Dofinike by the name of Reuzkimpart looked upon its
reflective surface and saw the fate he was to encounter. Terrified
of his vision, he told the Leaders and they declared the event a
prophecy of a future war between mankind and Dofinike. Angered by
the illicit use of the Gift, many stormed the Chamber, claiming
their right to see their own future.

The shard of glass lights up, projecting a
brightness that sprays the red walls with moving images. All around
me, Dofinikes scramble, rushing over one another. They’re racing
through a heavily—treed terrain to get to the mouth of a cave in
the side of a mountain.

So many angered and yet, so many more
desperate to know their own purpose in this world, their own fate.
It is not to be this way. The future itself is a gift; to know it
is not to trust, not to have faith. But their temptation was too
strong. Reuzkimpart opened a forbidden door and it led into
darkness and pain and much suffering
.

The wall images shift to the interior of a
mirrored cave. Dofinikes fight one another, attempting to claim the
center prize, but they are too many. The entire space is filled,
the glass surface reflecting the bloody brawls within. The
aggression grows as green bodies throw one another into the glass
walls, shattering them.

In the midst of the chaos, the Mother’s Gift
was nearly destroyed.

Another bright light rips through the
violent scene as images of the Lost Princesses appear in the cave.
The Dofinikes immediately stop fighting, drop to the ground and
cower before the spiritual goddesses. Every remaining surface
combusts simultaneously, showering a powder of snow over bruised
and bloody heads. Still in the image, the Lost Princesses’ voices
ring out in unison.
You have forsaken your Mother’s Gift. You
are not mature enough to accept it. This
, one of the goddesses
holds up a single shard,
is the last piece. We are taking it
from you. It will be returned when your World is in great need of
it, and not before.

They disappear as quickly as they arrived
and the sullen and defeated Dofinikes leave the dark cave one by
one.

The Gifts give power,
one of the
Princesses says as the images on the walls fade,
but where there
is power, danger is never far away. It is a fine line between the
two, one always seeking the other. But power is only at its
strongest when it is not used for that purpose. Do you understand
what we are saying?

I think so
.

Only one who doesn’t seek the power can
yield it. Only one who has mastered the Way can be in control.

Like the Fychu?

It is not the Fychu’s destiny to right the
Three Worlds. He is too close, too connected. He bleeds for his
home, his people. He would strike against those who have harmed
him, harmed those he loved.

Sampson? But he wouldn’t—

We do not know what we are capable of until
we are forced or freed. Fallon, you must look into the last piece
of Dellapalania’s Gift. Look into it and see the truth.

Me?

It is your destiny. Look into it and
understand.

The piece of glass descends, lowering close
to my face. It hangs inches from my nose, capturing my immediate
reaction. Surprise. Confusion. I try to sit back, but I’m stuck.
Hypnotized. All I can see, all I can feel is that white light
shining through the crystallized glass, entering me and suddenly
I’m blind, the red cave and everything else forgotten. Alone, I’m
standing in a white cloud. There’s nothing here, no one here. I
take a few steps, turn and try to find something. Anything. But
there’s nothing. Just the soft billowing clouds that swirl around
me. I think about calling out, but then stop as I turn.

It’s
me
.

Like another person, like a twin standing a
foot away. The mirage is dressed exactly as I am—same black and
grey baseball tee. Same jeans and checkered Converse. Her stance
even matches mine. Legs slightly apart, arms at her side, stiff and
ready. Only her expression differs. I’m confused, flummoxed at
seeing a mirrored image of myself while she’s calm and focused.

Determined.

But she’s not looking at me. She’s looking
through me, at something just behind us. I turn to find the green
and brown back of an enormous Dofinike. He’s focused on something
else, something in the distance. I step back and watch as she
watches him, her hand dropping to a handle in her pocket. He must
sense her because he spins. Shock flares in his angered yellow
eyes. His talons drop to his own handle and releasing the whip, he
sends it cracking in her direction. She tilts her head left, then
right, effortlessly dodging each attempt. He tries again and again,
but she continues avoiding them. Furious, the Dofinike charges her,
but she remains still. Waiting. Waiting for him to close in. He
tries striking her over and over, but she merely sidesteps, as if
the two were engaged in some well-rehearsed dance. Feet from her,
his talons are outstretched for her neck, ready to snap it in two.
But before he’s able to get ahold of it, she lifts her arm and
disappears. She reappears behind him—and so does the whip. It
slices through the back of his neck and he stumbles, gripping his
throat.

On his knees, blood gushes between his green
fingers. He’s choking, trying to breathe in fresh air. Then stops.
His head rolls from his body to the white clouds at her feet.

She looks up to me.

And smiles.

Everything vanishes and I’m here again, in
the red cave with the Lost Princesses. My thoughts are scattered,
racing, and trying to catch up with what I just witnessed. I’ve
killed my share of Dofinikes but this was different. If this was my
destiny, then that death was important. I know right away who it
was.

“It’s me,” I whisper, the epiphany striking.
“I’m supposed to kill Reuzkimpart.”

You have seen what you are meant to.

You know what you must do
, another
says.

You have seen your future
, the third
adds.
Now it is up to you to get there. It is up to you to
fulfill it.

Shock and adrenaline course through my body,
awakening me, registering this vital truth.
This is the Great
Reveal.

“It was always me. He saw me killing him and
that’s what started it all.”

I wait for their confirmation, but the Lost
Princesses simply stare.

“But… but what if I can’t do it?” I look up,
blinking into their glassy eyes. “What if I fail?”

What you saw must be proof that fate
unfolds as it was designed. If you believe in it—and yourself—you
will not fail. You will succeed in fulfilling the prophecy as it
was declared those two hundred years ago
.

I inhale a heavy breath. “So I’ll have to
kill Reuzkimpart.”

It is the way it must be.

A quiet moment passes.

Tomorrow is your final test. When you
succeed you will return to Nerwolix where the Arizals await you.
Reuzkimpart will bring his forces for a second invasion to obtain
the Gifts in two weeks’ time. The Fychu and the others are already
preparing, but you will take what you have learned and assist where
and how you can
.