The Finisher

TRIGINTA: Do or Die

IT WAS THE first section of light when I heard the knock at the door. Despite my anxiety over my fate, I had finally fallen asleep. Harry Two started growling and sniffing at the door.

I staggered up, still half asleep, waves of cold dread making me feel unbalanced and sick to my stomach.

Did they carry out executions immediately after Council’s decision? Would I open the door to find Ladon-Tosh there to drag me to a newly constructed platform at the village center?

I opened the door.

It wasn’t Ladon-Tosh. It was Morrigone. She looked deadly pale and tired, her exhausted features neatly matching my own. Her cloak even had a few spots of dirt on the hem. I looked over her shoulder but did not see the carriage. She must have walked from the Council building to deliver the news.

“May I come in, Vega?”

I nodded and moved out of the way to allow her entry.

She sat, or rather fell, into one of the chairs. She stifled a yawn and rubbed at one of her eyes.

“You haven’t slept?” I said.

She slowly shook her head but didn’t really seem to have heard my query. She looked at Harry Two and held out a hand to him. He cautiously approached and allowed her to rub his ears.

“A fine canine,” she said.

“He would do anything for me,” I replied, sitting on my cot across from her. “Will he be denied that opportunity?” I asked cautiously.

She looked up. “You will not be executed, if that’s what you’re asking,” she said bluntly. “Krone fought long and hard all night on that point, but Thansius and I made Council see reason.”

“Why does Krone hate me so much? What have I ever done to him?”

“It’s not about you,” Morrigone said quietly. “Krone actually hated your grandfather.”

“What?” I gasped.

“It was before my time on Council of course, but as I told you before, my grandfather was Chief of Council back then. He resigned and Thansius took his place when my father suffered his Event….” Her voice drifted off; she sat there for a moment and then refocused. “Krone was only a mere assistant at the time, but his ambition was to be a full-fledged Council member. And I have no doubt he has his sights set on being chief when Thansius steps down.”

“Steeples help us all if that ever comes to pass,” I said fiercely.

“Well, he does have his strengths and he is fiercely devoted to the preservation of Wormwood. But I do not think he would make a very good Chief of Council.”

“That doesn’t explain why he hated my grandfather.”

“As Virgil was leaving Council, it was rumored that Krone would take his spot. Virgil did not think much of Krone, and the two Wugs had a terrific row in the chamber in front of the entire Council. It was humiliating for Krone, I am sure, for your grandfather had an imperious manner about him that would brook no opposition, and his tongue and mind were far more advanced than Krone’s. It was an oratorical slaughter of historic proportions. Another Wug was appointed to replace Virgil based, I believe, solely on that verbal dustup. And though Krone did eventually become a Council member, it was several sessions hence. I am certain he held your grandfather responsible for this delay in his career. And his hatred for your grandfather seems to have been transferred to you.”

“And to my brother?” I said, looking worried.

“No. I think just to you. He was also not hateful with your parents.”

“Why just me, then?” I said in a bewildered tone.

She cocked her head and looked at me with a bemused expression. “You really have to ask such a question?”

“Yes, why?”

She smiled. “It is because you are so very much like your grandfather, Vega. So very much.”

“You liked him?” I thought back to Delph’s description of the pair arguing right before my grandfather had left Wormwood.

“I respected him, which is even more powerful, Vega. Virgil was a great Wugmort. He has been … he has been sorely missed since his …”

She did not seem able to finish the thought.

“I miss him too,” I said. “I wish he were here right now, to be with me.”

Morrigone reached out and gripped my hand. “I see you have drawn the symbol he carried on your own hand. It is a strange mark, is it not?”

I had not let the female at Council wash it off. I had told her it was not part of the map and she had relented.

I had been giving this symbol a lot of thought lately. “Three hooks,” I said. “Not one, or four, but three.”

She stared at me, her eyes wide. “Yes, three,” she said sadly. “Three can be a very powerful number. A trinity of sorts. But you don’t know what the mark means?”

“I do not.” I paused. “What is my fate, then? If not execution, then it must be Valhall.”

“It is not Valhall.”

I looked at her, puzzled. “If not execution and not Valhall, then what?”

“I will not mince words with you, Vega. The discovery of the marks on your skin was very damaging. It took all my resources and gathering support from other Council members to dissuade them from either beheading you or putting you in Valhall for the rest of your sessions.”

I drew a deep breath, letting this sink in — how close I had come to dying.

I looked at her. “So what, then? What is my punishment?”

She gathered her own breath. I had never seen her look so exhausted.

“You must fight in the Duelum, Vega. You must fight your heart out. You cannot surrender or go down easily, for if you do, you will be put in Valhall for the rest of your sessions. That is the vote of Council and it is final.”

“But I’m only fourteen sessions old!” I said. “I’ll be fighting against fully grown males.”

She rose and rubbed at her eyes again. “The fact is, Vega, they don’t care. They simply don’t. If you fight valiantly, all will be forgiven, your life will return to normal, and you will owe nothing else. If you won’t fight, then you will be taken to Valhall immediately. And in truth, I cannot guarantee that Krone will not push for your execution. And this time he might succeed.”

“Then I will fight,” I said. “I give you my word that I will fight my hardest.” I paused and then asked, “What happens to me until the Duelum starts?”

“You are the only Finisher left at Stacks. You can return to your work on the straps next light.”

“And when I’m beaten to death in the Duelum?”

“I’m sorry, Vega. That is the best I could do. At least this way you have a chance.”

“A chance,” I repeated without enthusiasm. But really how much of one?

Morrigone held up a cautionary hand. “Krone and his allies are convinced you will attempt to flee Wormwood and use the map you had to lead you.”

“The marks are gone from my skin,” I said.

“You could have memorized them. In any event, do not think of doing so. If you were to attempt to flee, Delph would take your place in Council’s eyes. And it would not simply be Valhall.” She paused. “They will take his life.” She paused once more and studied me intently. “And I would do nothing to block it.”

“Why, Morrigone? What does Council care if a Wug goes into the Quag? If he makes the decision and dies, it’s his life.”

“It is not that simple, Vega. Council’s job is to protect all Wugmorts, and ensure the survival of Wormwood. If Wugs started going into the Quag and dying, it would embolden the beasts there to perhaps once more take up battle against us. We might not survive a second war with them.”

“And then of course there are the Outliers.” I thought it enlightening that she had forgotten to mention them since we were building a bloody gargantuan wall supposedly to keep them out.

If I was expecting some barbed retort, I was to be disappointed.

Morrigone looked at me with a bittersweet expression that resembled one my mother would sometimes give me, but then her features grew hard. “I was very serious, Vega, when I said I admired you. I have no wish to see such a promising life snuffed out. But there are limits to even my feelings for you. Please do not forget that. I have my duty and I intend to carry it out. For the good of all Wugmorts and the survival of Wormwood, I cannot and will not play favorites.”

With that ominous statement, she left me.