206) The Salvation of Eden, Chapter 38 -- Preparing to Die

It was Dominic’s fault; there was no doubt about that. He was the ringleader, the one who got everyone else excited. But Reilly and Lenny were his cheerleaders, turning what was, to Kohra, clearly a suicidal, nonsensical idea, into the majority opinion. Which then became the consensus. 

Except for her. She alone disagreed.  

It was probably Lenny who sealed the deal, causing such disarray with Reilly, the two of them running around shouting “Master Blasters!” and Lenny shooting frost randomly out of her hands, that it was hard to think straight, let alone have a complicated debate. 

Finally, Kohra decided to just go to bed. Hopefully, everyone would wake up in the morning and come to their senses over breakfast. This was just “getting caught up in the moment.” She hoped.

She bade them all goodnight, to a round of cheers, and Lenny and Reilly screeching “Master Blasters!” and howling with laughter. Scurrying gratefully to the quiet of her room, she scooted under the blankets, pulling them right over her head, like when she was a little girl and would cocoon at night, safe from the monsters outside. Sometimes she would imagine she really was in a cocoon, and when she awoke in the morning, she’d have transformed into something beautiful and amazing.

Over breakfast the next morning, Dominic laid out their schedule of combat-practice for the upcoming week. It was important that every single one of them memorize their strategy perfectly, right down to the smallest details. 

But first, they realized they had to swear Melkorn to absolute secrecy. He would be going back home after breakfast, and if word got out that they were Slayers, here to slay the great beast…. They explained the need for secrecy very, very carefully to the big man, and Melkorn nodded agreeably, saying “Yep,” every time he was asked if he understood.

The next morning, Kohra was greeted by a wave of exuberance when she stepped into the dining area for breakfast. There was Melkorn, grinning. And there were Melkorn’s fourteen brothers and sisters, eager to meet the Slayers he had so proudly told them about. Even Lenny, on her third cup of coffee, looked horrified.

But none of them could get angry with the gentle giant. It wasn’t that he had lied or broken his promise. Melkorn simply didn’t understand. So, after very, VERY carefully swearing all fourteen siblings to secrecy, they insisted that Melkorn move into Juanita’s for the remainder of their stay. Strangely, although his family clearly had affection for him, none of them seemed concerned that he was joining a group of mostly-children to hunt down a deadly monster. Kohra just couldn’t understand it. It was almost as though they were happy to see him go.

On his first night as an official resident of Juanita’s, things became a little clearer. While simply sitting down for dinner, Melkorn broke two plates, knocked over Gorb’s mug of ale, and entirely shattered his chair. His face a deep crimson, he started punching himself in the face. “Bad! Bad Melkorn! Bad!”

Devona, sitting nearest to him, grabbed his hand to stop him, finally succeeding when she hung her entire bodyweight off his massive arm. “Melkorn! Stop! You’re not bad! It was just an accident.” Unable to continue hitting himself, he seemed to deflate, trying to bury his head in his own chest and refusing to meet anyone’s eyes. 

It was in the very next moment that Kohra fell completely and irrevocably in love — head over heels love that doesn’t make any sense but you don’t care — with Juanita. This woman, this vivacious, wonderful woman, walked in, saw Melkorn’s shame, and pretending not to notice the chair or broken dishes at all, merely took the empty dishes off the table as though she was about to whisk them into the kitchen, and promptly dropped them on the floor, the whole armload smashing to pieces. 

“Oops!” she cried. Then she turned around and, as though noticing the chair for the first time, pointed right at it. “Hey! And a broken chair!” She threw back her head, laughing, slapping her thighs with loud smacks like this was the funniest thing that had ever happened.

Everybody joined in, slapping the table, slapping their knees, slapping each other’s backs. Reilly actually howled, like a wolf cub, nose pointed at the ceiling like it was the skyflows. Melkorn looked shocked, mouth hanging open, tear-filled eyes still staring at the broken dishes on the floor. But as everyone laughed, he brightened, then straightened up and began chuckling, then burst into full-throated roaring laughter, hugging each person in turn and lifting them right off the floor. 

Kohra watched Juanita, her heart swelling as their host quietly snuck the broken chair out of the room. And then the air was squeezed out of her by a roaring man-giant who smelled like a barn.

* * * * *

Finally, they were ready. Their plan was rock solid. They had practiced it countless times. The Arc was working reliably (and Melkorn had finally stopped running away when they shot it). They had reduced the time for the energy-fusion routine down to a few seconds, and they could sustain it for a full eight seconds. All they needed was one clear shot. And that’s where The Plan came in. It would work. They knew it would work. 

At least, that’s how they kept reassuring each other. It was a cycle — one person would start to voice doubts, but then they’d all talk about The Plan, and how it would work, and why it made sense. And then Gorb would talk about the Light, and Lenny would make fun of him, and Melkorn would get confused and Reilly would make up ridiculous voices, and that would be that. Until the next time someone voiced doubts, and the cycle would repeat.

The night before “the big day,” Juanita held a feast in their honour, inviting all the regulars who they’d gotten to know over their stay. Kohra thought about trying to stop it, but she didn’t have the heart, and figured that by this point, word had gotten out anyway. She wondered what would happen when (if?) they returned from slaying the beast. Memories of the Black Thing haunted her, but they were now so far in over their heads, she had finally hit a saturation point of worry and just couldn’t bring herself to care all that much about what happened that far in the future.

It was a great night, an epic night, a night to remember. Everyone, including Juanita (probably not including Reilly, but Kohra wasn’t too sure about that), had violated their collective agreement not to drink any alcohol, and as the ale flowed, Juanita’s tongue loosened and she regaled them with hair-curling tales of her own adventures “back in the day.” 

After one about escaping from the keel of a pirate ship by blasting a hole in the bottom with explosive powder, and swimming out as the ship sank, she finished, with a noticeable slur, “So, when a bunch of kids and an old LightSinger show up in my Inn, looking like death warmed over, and say they’re gonna kill the town Monster, I say, sure, why the Hells not?” 

“And Snakey,” Dominic added, pointing to Arrowhead who was, as usual, curled around his shoulders. Reilly hooted; she loved it when they still called him “Snakey.” 

“Of course! And Snakey!” she laughed, raising her mug for another “cheers,” yelling over to the bar, “Let’s get dancin’, Harlen!” 

Harlen, one of her regulars who always wore a straw hat with a big rat-hole chewed in the side of the brim and all his front teeth missing, brought out a harmonica; another fellow produced some kind of home-made instrument, a cross between a banjo and a lute, and before long the night swelled with music, dancing, and joyfully-out-of-tune singing. 

Juanita climbed right up onto the bar, feet tapping and kicking, arms whirling and skirt swirling, and then Lenny was beside her, with gusto. Everybody started clapping in time, hooting and yelling. Juanita leapt back down to the floor, fell right on top of Gorb, spilling his mug all over his already-frothy beard, then bounced up, grabbed Melkorn and waltzed him in a mad lurch. 

Kohra thought she was going to die from laughing. Then she was up dancing too! Melkorn grabbed her, and she was spinning around, no idea what to do but it didn’t seem to matter! Dominic whirled by with someone, then she was in some man’s arms, and then with Juanita for a few brief moments, looking into her shining eyes while her wavy, chestnut hair bounced. Then Reilly grabbed her hands and they hopped around in the middle of the “dance floor,” grunting like rabid gorillas. 

Kohra went to bed far later than she should have, but for once, she didn’t care, snuggled in her blanket cocoon, listening to the frog-songs wafting over from the pond. 

This time tomorrow, we might all be dead. 

Somehow (maybe it was the drinking?), even that thought didn’t bother her. She lay in the dark, smiling.