David Baldacci - The Finisher

“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.

DELPH ARRIVED ATmy digs right after he finished work on the Wall.

“Wotcha, Vega Jane,” he called out through the door.

I opened the door and looked up at him while Harry Two jumped around our ankles.

“What is it, Delph?” I asked.

“I heard ’bout things,” said Delph.

“What did you hear exactly?” I asked. I searched his face, looking for the least little hint of doubt.

“You got to fight in the Duelum.”

“Yes.” I slid back my sleeve and showed him the clear skin. “They found the map on me.”

“We need to practice, then.”

I looked at him, dumbfounded. “Practice what?”

“Practice for you to win.”

“Delph, I’m not going to win the Duelum.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m a female. And I’m only fourteen sessions old.”

“Very nearly fifteen,” he amended. “So you’re not going to even try? Don’t sound like Vega Jane to me. Flying and throwing that spear thing so good-like.”

“That’s different.”

“Is it?” he said, staring at me.

I took a step back and considered this. “How would I practice?”

“You showed me how to fly and throw. I can show you how to fight. Morrigone said females should train up. And if you have to fight, you’re entitled to get trained up proper just like any other Wug. Preceptors ready to help. Well, I think I’m just as good as any Duelum Preceptor.”

“I know you are. But where do we do this?”

“At my digs. Lots of privacy there.”

“When?”

“Now.”

It was dark as we approached the Delphias’ cottage. The usual sounds associated with a beast trainer’s home were no longer in evidence. There were no new beasts, as I was sure Duf had no slivers to train them. All his time was spent on the Wall.

But there were sounds, because the adar had seen us approach. “Hello,” it said.

“Hello,” I said back.

“And who might this be?” the adar asked.

“This might be Vega Jane,” I answered.

It stood very tall and its great chest swelled. “Ooohhh, Ve-Vega Jane. So pr-pretty, Ve-Ve-Vega Jane. So be-be-be-beautiful, Ve-Ve-Vega Jane.” It sounded exactly like Delph.

Delph roared, “Shut up, you great pile of feathers, before you end up in the pot for me sup!”

“Be-be-beautiful, Ve-Ve-Vega Jane,” the adar said one last time and then gave Delph a surly glance before tucking its head under a wing and going back to sleep.

I was stunned by this outburst, but there was also an odd tingling sensation at the back of my neck. The thing was, adars only use words they’ve heard . I had no time to think about it really because as I looked over, Delph was charging straight at me full speed. I only had time to cry out and put my hands up before he had collided with me. He lifted me off the ground, raised me over his head and was about to crush me against a tree when he stopped. He looked up. I looked down.