The Finisher

TRIGINTA DUO: A Single Care

NEXT LIGHT, I rose early. I wanted to get out of Wormwood proper before other Wugs got up.

As Harry Two and I walked down the cobblestones, we passed an old Wug I didn’t know but had seen before. He glared at me and aimed a slop of spit at my boot. I hopped away and kept going, my head down. Obviously, word had gotten around about my arrest and sentencing to fight in the Duelum. It might be that the entire village loathed me now, although it was hard to fathom that Wugs could turn against me so quickly.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Roman Picus coming down the cobblestones. I braced myself for his insults and slurs. But he did something that bruised me even more. He pulled down his hat and cut between two buildings, apparently so he would not have to talk to or perhaps be seen with me.

I kept shuffling along, my energy sapped, and I had a full light of work ahead.

As I passed the Loons, Hestia Loon stepped out to put some rubbish in the dustbin. I tried not to make eye contact, but she called out, “Vega?”

I stopped, fearing the worst. Hestia had always been nice to me, but she was under Loon’s thumb completely. I eyed the broom in her hand and wondered if she was going to take a swat at me.

“Yes?” I said quietly.

She walked over, gave Harry Two a pat and said, “’Tis a beautiful canine.”

My spirits lifted a bit at her kind words. “Thank you. His name is Harry Two.”

She glanced up at me, her features hardening. “It’s rubbish, what they’re saying ’bout you. Know that as well as I know me own frying pan.”

I felt my face grow warm and moisture crept into my eyes. I hastily rubbed this away and continued to stare at her.

She looked over her shoulder back at the Loons and came forward, drawing something from her pocket. She held it up. It was a little chain with a metal disc on the end.

“Me mum gave this to me when I was but a nipper. For good luck, they say.” I looked at her in confusion. She hurried on. “Luck, for in the Duelum. Heard you had to fight. Bloody mental Council is, ask me, but no Wug did.” She gripped my hand and placed the good luck charm in it and curled my fingers over it.

“You take this, Vega Jane. You take this and you beat them males. I know you can do it. Bloody Outliers! Like you’d be helping them, and your grandfather being Virgil Alfadir Jane. Bloody mental, that’s what they are. Barmy, the lot of ’em.”

She looked down at my thin, dirty frame, and I saw her heavy cheeks start to quiver. “Give me a mo’,” she said.

She nipped into the Loons and was back a half sliver later with a small cloth bag. She handed it to me. “Just between us,” she said and gave my cheek a pinch. Then she was gone.

I looked in the bag and saw a loaf of freshly baked bread, two apples, a jar of pickles and a wedge of cheese and two sausages. My stomach rumbled in anticipation of devouring it.

I looked at the charm she had given me. The disc of metal was copper and had the image of a star with seven points to it. I lifted it over my head, and the chain settled around my neck. I stared back at the Loons and found Hestia peering at me from a window. She disappeared quickly when she saw me looking.

I continued on, my spirits heartened by her gesture of kindness.

When I got to my tree I stopped, dropped my tin and cloth bag, and ran forward screaming.

“No. No!” I yelled. “That’s my tree.”

There were four Wugs, all males, all twice my size. One of them was Non. He had an ax and was about to strike my tree a vicious blow. Two other Wugs stood ready with a long saw, while the fourth Wug had a morta, which he now pointed at me while Harry Two growled and snapped at him.

They were going to chop down my tree.

Non stopped, but still holding the ax up high, he said viciously, “Traitors dinnae get to have trees, female.”

He started his downswing with the huge ax.

“No,” I screamed. “You can’t. You can’t.” I paused and then said, “You won’t!”

Non hit my tree with a staggering blow, and the most amazing thing happened. There was not a dent or cut in the bark. Instead, the ax broke in half and fell to the ground.

Non stood there looking in disbelief at where he had hit my tree and then down at his shattered tool.

“What the Hel?” he roared. He pointed at the two Wugs holding the long saw and motioned them forward while the other Wug cocked the hammer back on his morta and kept it pointed at my head.

I just stood there, staring at my tree, willing with all my heart for it to survive this unjust attack. Even if I were a traitor — which I wasn’t — my poor tree should not suffer.

The two Wugs set the saw’s teeth against my tree’s bark and started to cut. Or they tried to. The teeth disintegrated against the trunk.

The Wugs straightened and looked in puzzlement at their ruined saw.

Non stared fiercely over at me. “What sort of tree is this?” he demanded.

“It’s my tree,” I said, pushing past the Wug holding the morta. “Now, clear off.”

“It’s bedeviled,” exclaimed Non. “You’re working with them Outliers. Evil scum. They’ve bedeviled this tree, they have!”

“That is utter nonsense.”

We all looked around and saw Thansius standing about five yards from us. He was dressed in a long gray cloak. He held a long stick in one massive hand, and I imagined he had gone for an early light walk.

“A bedeviled tree?” said Thansius as he drew nearer and looked up at my beautiful poplar. “How do you mean?”

Non shuffled his feet nervously and kept his gaze downcast. The other Wugs had all taken steps back and were studying the ground. I’m sure none of them had ever been in conversation with Thansius.

Non said haltingly, “Well, Thansius … sir, ax and … and saw don’t touch it, did they … sir?”

“Easily explained,” said Thansius, looking at me.

He rapped my tree with his knuckles. “You see, over time some trees that are ancient become petrified. That is to say their bark hardens to such a degree that it becomes stronger than iron. It’s no wonder your tools fell victim to its armored husk.”

He picked up the pieces of the broken ax and the toothless saw and handed them back to Non and the other two Wugs. “I would say that this tree will still be standing when we are all long since dust.” He looked directly at Non. “So be off with you, Non. I’m sure you and your colleagues have labors on the Wall to perform.”

Non and his cronies hastily made their way down the path and were soon out of sight.

I touched my tree’s bark and then looked at the boards I had nailed into it leading up to my planks. How could I have nailed into it if it were petrified? I looked at Thansius and was about to ask this very query when he said, “It is quite a magnificent tree, Vega. It would have been a terrible shame to see it perish.”

In his features I could tell that he wasn’t talking only about my tree. He was also referring to me.

I wanted to tell Thansius that I was not a traitor and that I never would have used the map to help anything that wanted to hurt Wormwood. But he had already turned away and walked off. I watched him until I could no longer see him. I turned to my tree and gave it a hug.

I WORKED AT Stacks all light long, and after finishing, I helped transport a shipment of straps by a wagon pulled by two cretas to the section of the Wall that was currently being completed. As I helped lift the heavy straps off, I was thinking this was a great way for me to build up my strength — if I didn’t die of exhaustion first.

Even I had to admit, the Wall was quite a feat of Wug craftsmanship and engineering. I did a count and there were two hundred Wugs currently working on this section. The construction was run in shifts all light and night, with the darkness illuminated by lanterns and torches so Wugs could see what they were doing. Yet there had already been injuries, some minor, others serious. One Wug had even died when he had fallen off the top of a Wall section and landed on his head, breaking his neck. He’d been buried in a special section of the Hallowed Ground now reserved for Wugs who gave their life for the Wall. All Wugs were praying there would be no more such sacrifices and that section would remain fixed forever at one grave.

As I finished unloading the straps, I stayed to look around. The Wall rose up well over thirty feet. The timbers were thick, stripped of their bark, planed and mitered. Straps that I had finished were wound around the logs and locked down tightly through the punch holes, giving the wood a strength and stability it would not otherwise have had.

The guard towers at this section were unfinished, but I could see where the Wugs with mortas would stand looking for Outliers, ostensibly. Though I now envisioned these same Wugs shooting down other Wugs trying to get over the Wall. The moats were dug but not yet filled in with water. They would be filled last, I reasoned, so the workers wouldn’t get mired in the muck.

The activity was frenetic, but seemed well coordinated, with focused Wugs marching here and there with tools and materials. As I continued to gaze around, I spotted John on a raised platform with lit torches all around, overseeing the construction. Next to him were three members of Council and two other Wugs I knew were good at building things.

I had a notion to go over and speak to John but then thought better of it. What did I have to say to him that I had not already said? It was startling to me how quickly my many sessions with John had been efficiently overridden by his time under Morrigone’s wing. Or claw, more like it. And yet she had saved my life. I was terribly conflicted about her. Was she my ally or not?

I walked over to the large holes dug for the water and gazed down at them. Another Wug came up to me, carrying some tools.

“When will the water be piped in here?” I asked.

He looked down at the hole. “They say in six more lights and nights, but I don’t see how. We’re behind schedule.”

John’s comment came back to me about the timetable. “It seems that Wugs are working as hard as they can,” I said.

“Tell that to them,” said the Wug, motioning to the platform where John was. The Wug looked back at me. “’Tis your brother, ain’t he?”

“He is.”

The Wug stared hard at me. “Then you have my pity.”

As he started to walk off, I grabbed his arm. “What do you mean by that?”

“Only that he works us harder every light and night. It don’t matter to him how tired or sick we are or that our families need us. He flat-out don’t care, does he?”

“I thought he was just working on the plans?”

The Wug shook his head. “For a young, he acts very old. And he’s mean. I know you’re family and all, but that’s just how I feel and I don’t care who knows.”

Scowling, he stalked off leaving me staring at the ground, thinking many things and none of them pleasant. I glanced back over at John, my spirits about as low as they could go. Even as I watched, he started pointing and yelling at a group of Wugs who were struggling with a heavy timber. John rushed down to them and started gesticulating at them. The Wugs looked stonily at him, any response they might have had no doubt muted by the large Wugs armed with mortas who stood behind John.

I walked up to John, who was still raging at the Wugs standing there with the log balanced precariously over their weary shoulders. I said, “Why don’t you let them put it down, John, while you tell them what you want?”

He turned to me, an expression of great annoyance on his face. At first, I didn’t think he even recognized me.

“We don’t have time for that!” he exclaimed. “We’re already behind this light, and night crew will be here in slivers.”

“And these Wugs have been working hard all light. You’ll be even more behind schedule if Wugs start getting sick or injured from being overworked.”

“It is not your place to give orders,” he said, gazing stonily at me.

“Maybe it isn’t. But I’m the only family you have left.”

He gave me a condescending look. “Have you forgotten the Care?”

I knew I shouldn’t do it, but at this point I was no longer concerned about John’s feelings. Besides, I wasn’t sure he had any left. And I was destined to either get my brains bashed in fighting in the Duelum or die in Valhall.

“As I said, I’m the only family you have. There is no one you know left at the Care. I thought Morrigone would have told you by now. Our parents both suffered Events. There is of course nothing left of them.”

With that I turned on my heel and marched away.

I didn’t care, I just really didn’t.

But, as it turned out, I should have.

For a lot of reasons.