The Fall of Five

21

Later, the four of us that still have our Chests gather in the workshop with Malcolm. I’m happy to help out—I’m just not sure how much use I’ll be. Adelina wasn’t around enough to explain what any of the stuff in my Chest does.

From the Lecture Hall comes the muffled sound of Six training marksmanship with Sam, Sarah and Ella. I think Five is in there too, although he didn’t look too thrilled about the prospect of learning to shoot. Nine stares longingly at the door to the Lecture Hall. Sighing dramatically, he starts rummaging through his Chest.

“Check this out,” Nine says. He holds up a small purple stone and then places it on the back of his hand. The stone slides into his hand—through it. Nine turns his hand over just as the stone pops out in his palm. “Pretty cool, right?” he asks me, waggling his eyebrows.

“Uh, but what is it supposed to do?” Eight asks, looking up from his own Chest.

“I dunno. Impress girls?” Nine looks over at me. “Did it work?”

“Um . . .” I hesitate, trying not to roll my eyes too hard. “Not really. But, I’ve seen guys teleport so I’m kind of hard to impress.”

“Tough crowd.”

“What does it feel like when it passes through your hand?” Malcolm asks. He holds a pen poised over a clipboard.

“Uh, kinda weird, I guess. My hand goes numb until the stone passes through.” Nine shrugs, glancing around. “You guys want a try?”

“Yes, actually,” Malcolm says. When he puts the stone on his hand, nothing happens. “Hmm. I guess it’s Loric only.”

Malcolm hands the stone back to Nine. Instead of putting it back into his Chest, Nine shoves the purple stone into his pocket. Maybe he’s going to go out and try to impress some ladies later.

John holds up a collection of brittle-looking leaves, the bundle held together by some yellowed twine. He cradles them gently in his hands, unsure what to make of them.

“This has to be something to do with Lorien, right?”

“Maybe it’s a reminder from Henri that you’re supposed to rake the lawn,” Nine says, digging through his own Chest again. “I don’t have any dumb leaves in here.”

Malcolm peers at the bundle in John’s hands. Gently, he runs his index finger along the edge of a leaf. I almost expect the delicate little thing to crumble. Suddenly, the sound of a gentle breeze fills the room. It stops as soon as Malcolm pulls back his finger.

“You all heard that?” he asks.

“Sounded like someone left a window open,” Eight says, looking around at the four walls cluttered with equipment. Not a shred of daylight comes through anywhere.

“It was the sound of wind on Lorien,” John says, his eyes getting distant. “Somehow, I know that’s what it was.”

“Do it again,” Nine says, and I’m a little surprised by the sincerity in his voice. But then, I really want to hear the wind again too. There was something comforting about it.

John brushes his hands through the leaves and this time the sound is fuller. My skin prickles; it’s almost as if I can feel the fresh Loric air on my skin. It’s beautiful.

“Amazing,” Eight says.

“But what is it for?” Nine asks, returning to his usual bluntness.

“It’s a reminder,” John replies, his voice low, like he’s a little choked up and trying to hide it. “A reminder of what we’ve left behind. What we’re fighting for.”

“Interesting.” Malcolm makes a note on his clipboard. “Further study will be required.”

One by one, Malcolm stands over our shoulders as we empty out our Chests. He writes down everything, making notes for the objects we know how to work and underlining the ones that we don’t. From the dark gloves that shimmer when I touch them to the circular device that looks sort of like a compass, pretty much every item in my Inheritance gets underlined.

“What do you think this does?” Eight asks, holding up a curved antler that looks like it was snapped off the head of a small deer. “It’s the only thing in here I don’t know how to work.”

Five seconds after Eight held up the antler, Bernie Kosar bolts through the workshop door with his snout in the air. He looks thrilled, his tail wagging. He jumps right on Eight, pawing at him.

“He wants the antler,” says John. “In case you couldn’t tell.”

Shrugging, Eight lowers the antler and BK takes it in his jaws. He flops over onto his back and begins to roll back and forth. He emits a happy purring sound that definitely doesn’t go with his dog form. In fact, his form begins to flicker in and out, almost as if he’s having trouble controlling himself.

“He’s so weird!” Nine is laughing hysterically. “If we weren’t on the run, I would totally put this on the internet.”

“Whoa, whoa,” John says, rubbing his temples. “Calm down, BK.”

Malcolm looks from BK to John. “You can communicate with him?”

“Yeah,” John answers. “Telepathically. So can Nine. He’s pretty wound up. He says the antler is—I don’t know how to put it, it’s coming through in a weird language—like, a totem or something. For Chimæra.”

“Well, he’s our only Chimæra, so he can keep it,” says Eight, grinning as he crouches down to rub BK’s belly.

“Ella came here on a ship filled with Chimæra,” I say. “Do you think we could use that to attract them? Maybe they’re lost and need to know where to find us.”

Malcolm immediately starts writing on his clipboard. “Very good thought, Marina.”

I smile, feeling a little swell of pride. Now if I could only figure out what the stuff in my Chest does.

“If you’re looking for boring nature-themed crap, I’ve got this,” Nine says, holding up a small leather pouch. He passes it around and we each look inside. It’s filled with rich, chocolate-brown soil. “When Sandor was explaining my Inheritance, he told me it was meant for growing things. But that we wouldn’t need it for a long while.”

Nine reties the leather strings at the top of the pouch and dismissively tosses it back in his Chest. I guess he’s not all that interested in things that can’t kill Mogadorians. I look through my Chest, brushing aside the assortment of gems that could’ve funded my Spanish version of Nine’s penthouse if Adelina had cared, looking for anything that might have to do with restarting Lorien.

“What about this?” I ask, holding up a slim vial of crystal-clear water. The glass is cool to the touch beneath my fingers.

“Drink it,” suggests Nine.

Malcolm shakes his head. “I’d advise against ingesting any of the items in your Chests until we know what they do.”

“You listening?” Eight elbows Nine. “Don’t eat any of the rocks.”

I uncork the vial. As soon as the air touches it, the liquid transforms to a shade of blue exactly the same as the Loralite stones. It’s only a brief reaction, though, the blue quickly fading back to the clear water. I drag my finger down the side of the vial and a trail of bright blue appears in the liquid, then fades as I lift my finger away. I notice little tendrils of blue swirling about beneath the tips of my fingers where I’m holding the vial.

“Do you see that?” I exclaim.

“It’s like the liquid can feel your touch through the glass,” says John.

“May I?” asks Malcolm.

I hand it over to Malcolm. When he holds the vial, the color of the liquid doesn’t change. “Hmm,” he says, and holds the vial out to John. “You try.”

As soon as John takes the vial from Malcolm, the liquid again flashes the brilliant cobalt shade of Loralite. We all watch as it slowly fades away, except where John is touching it. The way the liquid pulses, it’s like it wants out of the vial, like it’s eager to be in contact with us.

“So, it detects Loric,” Eight says, “but what good is that if we’re the only ones left?”

“I’m going to try something,” I say, taking the vial back from John. Carefully, I tip the vial so that just a single drop spills into the palm of my hand. The liquid turns blue and a tickling sensation spreads across my palm. Then, the single droplet quivers and expands, gaining mass and density until I’m holding in my hand a smooth nugget of Loralite.

“Whoa,” Eight says, taking the stone out of my hand and turning it over, examining it.

“Whoa, indeed.” Malcolm bends down, gazing in amazement at the stone. “Whatever that material is, it defies the laws of physics.”

“So we can create Loralite with that,” John muses. “Nine and I both have something that looks like it could be used for farming or planting, and Eight has an object that can summon Chimæra. Doesn’t it seem like that’s the stuff that can help us jumpstart Lorien?”

“It does indeed,” says Malcolm.

I put the stopper back into the vial, not wanting to waste any more of our precious liquid Loralite.

The inventorying goes on for a little while longer with Malcolm taking really meticulous notes. We’re all eager to learn as much as we can about our Inheritances— well, except for Nine. He keeps gazing towards the door of the Lecture Hall. He makes us promise to train with him after we’re done with all “the brainy stuff.” In truth, I’m looking forward to another session in there myself. I feel like I’ve got a lot of catching up to do before I’m at the same level of combat readiness as the others.

When the others leave, Eight and I linger, putting the last few items back into our Chests. I put the Loralite stone that I created in there as well, but Eight plucks it out. He squeezes it tightly in his fist and concentrates.

“What’re you doing?”

He opens his eyes and sighs. “I wanted to see if I could use this to teleport to one of the other Loralite stones. I’ve tried using my pendant before and that didn’t work either. They must not be big enough chunks.”

“What? You wanted to take a quick jaunt to Stonehenge? Maybe Somalia?” I take back the stone and put it in my Chest, locking it up.

“Things are going to be moving fast now, that’s all. I just wish we had more time to do some of that exploring.”

“We?” I reply, feeling a sudden heat rising in my face. “You were going to teleport me away with you?”

Eight flashes me that disarming smile. “Just for a quick breather. You telling me you couldn’t use one?”

Eight’s right, obviously. After getting woken up before dawn by Ella’s screaming and witnessing that horrific vision of Chicago, I could definitely use a time-out from Loric business. But there’s no time for that now. I touch Eight on the arm.

“Sorry,” I tell him. “We’ve gotta be serious. Like Nine said, no time for gallivanting off to foreign lands or even the waterfront.”

Eight sighs with good-natured disappointment. “Ah well,” he says, “we’ll always have pizza.” He pauses for a moment, looking like he wants to say something more, but then Nine bursts into the room. He’s already changed into workout clothes.

“You suckers ready to work?”