THE REFORGED TRILOGY: BOOK 2 — SWORD OF DREAMS
Chapter 1: Underground
“What’s the difference between an evil thought and an evil deed? We all have our evil thoughts, but it takes a broken heart to act on them.”
– Nomusa Udo, Carsan writer (230 MA)
Where are you?
Maeve leaned into the window. The glass was cold and smooth against her cheek, but did nothing to soothe the knots twisting her stomach. It reflected her own face back at her: anxious gray eyes, pointed ears and short black hair, all against the backdrop of her white-feathered wings.
Maeve squinted past the blur of her own features. There was a line of holographic monitors set up at the intersection of two busy city streets outside, broadcasting a live stream of Axis news to millions of passing pedestrians and drivers. Maeve couldn’t hear the pretty Mirran newscaster, but she could just make out the ticker running across the bottom of the display: Union of Light declares Bannon cult heretical.
“Hey, can I have a drink?”
Across the table, Duaal made a grab for Tiberius’ glass. The old Prian pulled it back out of reach. The dark brown beer inside sloshed and foamed.
“Not a chance. You’re too young,” Tiberius said.
“I’m twenty!” Duaal reached out again. “Come on, captain! I’ve got a Nnyth of a headache.”
“You’re nineteen,” Tiberius said. He took a long drink and then wiped his mouth with the back of a hairy, scarred hand. “And Prian drinking age is twenty-three.”
“We’re on Axis!”
“You know, you’re right. Legal age here is twenty-five,” Tiberius said. “Alcohol isn’t medicine, anyway. We’ll get you some blockers.”
The Blue Phoenix’s captain finished off his beer in a few gulps, then replaced his empty mug on the tabletop while Duaal glared. Finally, the boy sighed and sat back, raking long fingers through his bleached hair.
“Fine,” Duaal sighed. “Unless you’d like to buy for me, Maeve? You’re old enough to be my grandmother.”
Maeve turned her attention from the street outside back to her captain and his copilot. The fairy sat in her chair in reverse, straddling the backrest so she could stretch out her wings comfortably behind her.
“If the bartender will even sell to an Arcadian — which I doubt — he will surely notice when I fail to drink my own purchase,” Maeve said. She gestured to the corrugated steel bar not far away. “He can probably overhear our discussion even now.”
Duaal’s gaze followed her pointing finger and he winked at the bald, muscular Hadrian man. The big bartender studiously ignored the oddly dressed young man and set to work reorganizing the bottles behind the bar. Duaal tugged on the embroidered cuff of his black velvet sleeve.
“Not bad at all. I’m sure I could get him to give me something interesting,” he said. “It doesn’t have to be a drink…”
“Don’t even think about it,” Tiberius told him. “He’ll give you a disease or a fight, Duaal. You keep your ass right there in that seat.”
The Hyzaari boy rolled his eyes and tipped his chair back on two scarred feet. “Fine. What are you watching out there, Maeve?”
“The news.”
“What are they talking about?” Tiberius asked.
“Gavriel’s church,” Maeve said. “The Alliance Union of Light has named them enemies.”
Tiberius furrowed bushy gray brows. “It’s about time. Those death-worshipers are a God-damned menace.”
“I don’t know if that’s good news,” Duaal said. The Hyzaari boy’s dark face had paled a shade. “That means the Union of Light thinks that enough of the Nihilists survived to be a problem. They never did find Gavriel or Xartasia on Stray. That means one or both of them are still alive.”
Maeve looked out the window again. The news had moved on to another Starwind press release. But Duaal was right.
Where are you, Xartasia?
Tiberius banged his fist on the tabletop to get the bartender’s attention and order another beer.
“We’re far away from Stray and Gavriel’s cult.,” he said when he was done. “We’ve got problems enough without worrying about the Nihilists.”
“If Gripper and Xia can’t get anything from Armon, we may have to go back to Stray,” Duaal said.
Maeve considered that. The idea of returning to Stray was not an unpleasant one. Kessa and her husband were on Stray. And their baby, Baliend. Maeve would have liked to see the child again. Perhaps she could find Xartasia there somehow and… and what?
A human server hurried past, balancing her tray of drinks and not watching where she was going. She tripped over one of Maeve’s wings, staggered and fell. Drinks crashed to the floor, spraying glass and alcohol into the air. A man in a dark green CWAAF uniform at the next table jumped to his feet and caught the server before she could follow the glasses down to the ground.
“Don’t you worry about that, honey,” he assured her. “It wasn’t your fault. That bird-back little slat doesn’t know where her own feathers are.”
Maeve curled her lip and stood, bringing herself eye-to-chest with the much taller Alliance military officer. She didn’t recognize the gold rank marked on his collar.
“You fault me for her clumsiness?” Maeve asked. “For no reason but my race?”
“Oh look here,” the officer said. He didn’t speak to Maeve, but to another uniformed man still sitting at their table. “Someone taught this little parrot to talk!”
“My Aver is better than yours, human!”
“Forget it, Maeve,” Duaal told her. He smiled and leaned back in his chair again, lacing his fingers behind his head. “The man isn’t lying. Someone did teach you to speak Aver.”
“He is being condescending,” Maeve said. “And so are you!”
“That’s enough now,” Tiberius said in the loud, serious voice that usually quieted his crew.
But the man in the green CWAAF uniform wasn’t impressed. He crossed his arms and glared at Tiberius.“You sure you want to get involved in this, old man? Your kid seems to have better sense.”
“This guy is Prian, Sanders,” said the other soldier. He remained in his seat, sipping at a strong-smelling drink. He gave Tiberius a sly, knowing smirk. “You don’t have a problem with the bird-backs at all, do you?”
“Your argument is with me,” Maeve snarled at the two soldiers. “So let us finish it alone!”
The fairy spread her wings wide and wished she still had her spear. The presence of a sharp blade always seemed to level the field of battle — even verbal battle — between Maeve and her much larger opponents. The first soldier, Sanders, loomed over Maeve.
“Not much good in arguing with pets, even the ones that have learned cute tricks,” he said. “But if you’re in a biting mood, little beast, then by all means…”
Sanders cracked his knuckles menacingly. Maeve stood up onto her toes and searched for some suitably cutting reply, but another man stepped in front of her, eclipsing her view. The newcomer also wore the CWAAF gold-edged green, with gleaming braids on his shoulders. He was a thick-built, dark-skinned Hadrian, like the bartender. The man stood with his back to Maeve and looked at Sanders.
“The Prian’s right. That is enough,” he announced. “You’ve obviously had plenty to drink, Lieutenant Sanders. Report back to the Stalwart at once.”
Sanders straightened up at once and snapped off a salute. “Yes, Commander Kharos.”
With a groan, his friend pushed his drink away and climbed up to his feet. “Well, I guess that’s enough fun for one day, then. Come on, Sanders.”
The two soldiers threw a couple of white cenmark chips onto the table, then turned away and left. A murmur went through the bar — half disappointed, half relieved. Tiberius nodded respectfully to the CWAAF commander.
“I thank you, sir,” Maeve said slowly. “Your aid comes unasked, but is no less welcome.”
A thin, gleaming white membrane covered Kharos’ eyes, the polarizing filter necessitated by the bright, harsh sun of his homeworld. It was impossible to know exactly what he was looking at, but it didn’t seem to be Maeve.
“You should get the Arcadian out of here,” Kharos told Tiberius. “You don’t want more trouble.”
Tiberius made a flustered noise and went quite red in the face.
Duaal jumped up. “You’re not going to let him talk to you like that, are you? Captain!”
“What about to me?” Maeve asked sharply, but Duaal ignored her.
“The commander’s right,” Tiberius said grudgingly. “Let’s go.”
The white stubble on Tiberius’ lined cheeks stood out starkly against his darkened face. Reluctantly, Duaal followed Tiberius outside. Maeve remained, fists still clenched on her hips.
Commander Kharos said nothing to her.
“Maeve! Come on,” Tiberius called, standing in the door. “We have to go!”
She stalked out of the bar, muttering to herself. “Sa’aani shae!”
Another night.
They found Gripper and Xia a few streets away. It wasn’t difficult. Gripper loomed over everyone else on the crowded walkway. He had stopped to stare up at another news display, like the one that Maeve studied from the bar window not long before. The ogreish Arboran’s eyes were wide and his mouth hung open.
Other various species and even passing vehicles slowed to stare at Gripper. Some were stunned into silence, but others whispered to each other or shouted at the strange alien. Traffic had ground to a slow trickle and threatened to stop entirely. Nervously, Xia gave Gripper’s arm a gentle tug. He blinked his huge brown eyes, shook his head and then followed as the Ixthian hurried over to Tiberius, Duaal and Maeve.
“Hey, did you see that stuff about the Nihilists?” Gripper asked as soon as he neared, falling in beside the fairy. Maeve had to jog to keep up with the longer stride of the taller alien.
Maeve had to raise her voice to make herself heard over the cacophony of echoes ringing back from the city’s distant ceiling. “The Alliance church has outlawed their religion.”
“And the CWA is putting a bounty on them, too,” Gripper said with a nod.
Maeve hadn’t heard about that part. She wanted to ask after the details, but Tiberius slapped his fist into his palm.
“That’s business for bounty hunters. Not us,” he said, and then looked at Xia. “Did Armon have any work for us?”
“No,” the Ixthian answered with a shake of her head. Axis’ recycled air stirred her short white hair.
“Nothing?” Duaal asked.
“Salvage has been pretty thin,” Xia answered. “He’s got nothing else to move.”
“Bloody hell!” Tiberius growled.
Xia held up her six-fingered silver hand. “I did manage to find us some other work. Armon didn’t have anything, but I checked my messages on the mainstream and there was one from an old college friend. I thought you might be interested.”
“A job?” Tiberius asked, still bristling but curious now.
“Yes. Carrying passengers and some cargo out to Prianus.”
If Xia expected a smile, she was disappointed. Tiberius scowled.
Duaal sighed theatrically. “Prianus? What in the name of God could they want all the way out there?”
“Xen didn’t say,” Xia told him.
They reached a huge silver column of lifts. The metal was stenciled with a huge, flaking number 4. Duaal bumped his hip against a glowing call button.
Tiberius looked skeptical. “What does this hawk of yours do, exactly? I’m not flying anything illegal or dangerous out to Prianus.”
“Xen’s a professor of archeogenetics,” Xia said. “He’s head of the department at Vostra Nor University. I don’t think he so much as experimented with any chems when we were in college. Not outside the laboratory, anyway. But he didn’t leave any details in the message. If you want to know more, we’ll need to fly out to his office on Tynerion.”
“Go out there on speculation?” Duaal asked skeptically.
“Tynerion isn’t that far away from Axis. We probably would have gone further to pick up anything for Armon. No one can afford to keep anything on Axis. CWAAF keeps too close an eye on this planet.”
But that wasn’t the detail that Tiberius had latched onto.
“A professor…?” he protested. “The Blue Phoenix is a cargo bird, not some fancy science vessel!”
The lift tube on the right chimed and the light flashed from orange to blue as the doors slid open. A short, stout Lyran businesswoman pressed herself against the back wall as they all filed into the lift canister and her bristling tail curled against the back of her legs. Gripper delicately pressed the close button with a huge claw.
“Please stand clear of the doors,” instructed a politely sexless computerized voice. “Please stand clear of the doors.”
No one spoke as the elevator seal hissed shut again and slipped into smooth motion, falling down deeper into Axis. On Level Five, it stopped and the Lyran woman squeezed out, avoiding the eyes of the strangers who had shared her ride. When she was gone, Duaal jabbed the door controls again.
“I don’t know how picky we can be about work,” he said. The mage gave Maeve an accusatory look. “Since she spent all of her money on that damned bounty, we don’t have anything to fall back on. We’ve got to work, Tiberius.”
“Hey, it was her money!” Gripper cried. “Smoke never asked for any of yours!”
“It was a lot of money, and she blew it all on that stupid bounty. So she could kill herself,” Duaal said. “Where’s all that color now? In the pockets of the Gharib police, just when we could use it!”
“That money bought your salvation on Stray, too,” Maeve reminded Duaal. She narrowed her gray eyes at him. “Your youthful temper and weak spells did little to combat the Nihilists when they came for us!”
“Easy, Maeve,” Xia said. “He was terrified of Gavriel. It was very difficult and very brave of him to do anything at all.”
“Great. Thanks, Xia,” Duaal mumbled, blushing.
“She’s just trying to help, Shimmer,” Gripper said, always eager to leap to the Ixthian’s defense.
“She doesn’t know how to help anyone but herself!” Duaal said.
He thought Gripper was talking about Maeve. Xia opened her mouth to correct him, but Tiberius interrupted them all.
“Enough!” The old captain’s voice thundered uncomfortably in the closed confines of the elevator. “Maeve’s money and what you all did or didn’t do on Stray doesn’t matter anymore! Since we flew out of here with Kessa and ducked the Axis police, we’re criminals on this planet. Damnably petty ones, but still criminals.”
“I’d just like to point out that Maeve brought Kessa on board, too,” Duaal grumbled.
“What’s done is done,” Tiberius said.
“The captain’s right. There’s no money and it’s been hard to find work. Times have been a little rough and lean.” This was from Xia, who looked at Tiberius with arched antennae. “But we’ve got a solid lead now. Yes, it’s academic work, but Xen says the money is good and we really can’t afford to be picky.”
Gripper stood behind Xia, fidgeting uncomfortably as the rest argued. He gave his captain a crooked smile.
“Besides, you get to go home,” he said. “That’s great, right?”
Tiberius’ only response was a short, terse grunt. The rest of the long ride down into Axis’ lower levels was spent in silence, leaving Maeve with little else to do but think. Seven months had passed since Stray, since stealing the infant Baliend back from Gavriel and his Nihilists. Since facing Princess Titania — no, she is Xartasia now, the dreamer of death — under the desert graveyard.
She forgave me for the death of our people. My cousin would be queen of the White Kingdom, if she would but take up the crown. And Xartasia has forgiven me.
Maeve looked down at her hands, at the wrists sticking out from her more or less clean sleeves. The skin was still scarred by battle and chem abuse, but even those marks were beginning to fade.
Was she absolved? Did the gods forgive her for the millions she killed, even accidentally?
Seven months since Logan Coldhand stopped hunting her… The bounty on Maeve was paid — into the hands of the Gharib police, just as Duaal complained — and so the bounty hunter had left. The chase was over and the loss still weighed strangely heavy on Maeve.
But she was tired of being self-absorbed and pathetic, tired of everyone around her paying the price for her indulgence. Maeve clasped her hands in front of her and turned her attention to her companions instead. Her gaze wandered inevitably to the shortened length of Gripper’s mottled left ear. The Arboran noticed her looking and rubbed the shiny scar self-consciously.
The events of the last year seemed to have done nothing to change the unflappable Xia. Sometimes it seemed that her sweet and professionally caring nature was the only thing keeping the Blue Phoenix crew from falling apart entirely.
Next to her, Duaal leaned against the curved wall of the lift, eyeing Maeve balefully through braided locks of bleached hair. Though the surly teenager’s clothes remained needlessly expensive and elaborate, he no longer wore the charms and magical symbols — moons and stars and angular knots — that he once did. Back on Stray, Maeve had told him that such things were the tools of only the youngest, least experienced spell-singers and the news had deeply shamed proud Duaal.
Only a child is insulted to be called a child, Maeve thought, but pinched her arm angrily. By the standards of her own race, she was young, too.
Tiberius just looked tired and Maeve’s stomach twisted into a tight, guilty knot again. Tiberius scratched his cheek and sighed, lost in his own cranky thoughts. The last of his pewter hair had gone entirely white and he hadn’t shaved in days.
The large 9 beside the lift door lit up and the speakers chimed, announcing their arrival. When the doors opened, Maeve followed the rest of the Blue Phoenix crew out into the streets of Level Nine. A gang of young men with shaven heads piled into the vacated lift. Glowing lines of color pulsed beneath their skin. Xia’s eyes shone a faint red color, full of disgust. The glowing subdermal implants were almost as disfiguring as cybernetics, at least in the compound eyes of the purist Ixthians. One of the rough-looking males stuck his surgically lengthened tongue out at Xia just before the lift doors hissed shut again.
Tiberius and his mismatched crew walked close together along the dirty road. Vehicles here rode low on poorly maintained null-inertia fields, rumbling past and kicking up clouds of shredded plastic and crumpled mycofoam. Lumapaint tags marked each corner as the territory of one gang or another. The lights shining down from Level Nine’s ceiling flickered fitfully and left entire city blocks steeped in darkness.
“You know, considering what we did in Gharib, we should get to land up in the nice fields on Level One,” Duaal said. “Even Logan got to put his ship up on the surface!”
“God damn that bounty hunter!” Tiberius growled, but offered nothing more.
“Hey, we’ll fix this someday,” Gripper said hesitantly. “You know, clear our names.”
“As far as Axis Control knows, we’re char,” Duaal told him. “We tricked them. They’re not going to be happy if the Blue Phoenix shows up on their boards.”
They stopped in front of a tall black wall that blocked off half the road. Tiberius pressed a button on the bottom of a control box welded to the gate. It buzzed and then a rough voice crackled over the speaker.
“Who is it?”
“It’s Captain Myles, Blake. We’re ready to get out of here.”
“Surely, captain. And by the way, your supplies arrived. They’re waiting at your berth.”
“They better not be light, Blake,” Tiberius said.
“I didn’t take any of your stuff, you old coot. If your crates are light, it’s not my fault.”
The gate lock thunked and Gripper pulled it open. Beyond was a pitted expanse of engine-burned blastphalt that probably used to be a factory before someone leveled it to make room for Blake’s illegal landing field. The remains of huge ducts and shafts hung down from the level’s ceiling. Long ago, they vented air and waste gasses up to Axis’ surface, but now they provided discreet entry and exit for ships small and desperate enough to fly through them.
The Blue Phoenix crouched among a pack of other grounded ships. It was clumsy-looking and covered in bristling sensor spars like a grumpy metal hedgehog. A stack of crates sat behind the Blue Phoenix, just beside the closed loading ramp. Duaal tapped the security code into a keypad. The airlock cycled and hissed, then the ramp lowered and clanked to the ground.
“Maeve, get everything loaded and tied down. Gripper, give her a hand,” Tiberius ordered. “Xia, check if anything is missing. Blake’s a bastard and a criminal. I wouldn’t put it past him to steal from his own mother. Duaal, give him our vector and let him know when we’re ready to get out into the black.”
“Which is?” Duaal asked. “Where are we going?”
“Tynerion. We’ll go take your teacher’s work, Xia.”
“Great. Hey, captain? Can I fly us out of here?” Duaal asked. The copilot pointed up at the massive, corroded old ducting. “It’s going to be a sharp ride.”
“Maybe next time,” Tiberius said.
He made his way up the ramp and into his ship, patting the wall of the airlock as he passed. Duaal jogged after him.
“That’s what you said last time!”
Shaking her head, Xia followed the two human men inside to find the cargo manifest. Gripper pushed a loading jack down the ramp and helped Maeve lift the crates of food, water and filters. When it was full, he activated the null-inertia field and with a light shove, the jack floated up off the uneven ground, as light as a balloon. Gripper guided it back into the ship’s cargo bay.
Inside, he turned off the null-inertia field projector and the jack thumped heavily to the Blue Phoenix’s fibersteel floor. Gripper pulled an orange net down from hooks on the wall and tossed one end to Maeve. She flew up into the air, caught the corner and dropped it over her side of the stack. As Maeve tied the net down to a row of magclamps on the floor, Gripper leaned against the crates.
“Smoke, are you worried about the Nihilists?” he asked.
“I have been thinking about them since I saw their name on the news,” she admitted. “I worry, yes, but I do not know if it is the same as your worry.”
“You don’t think they’re going to… come after us or anything?” Gripper asked.
Maeve shook her head slowly. “No, I do not believe so. The Cult of Nihil will have their own worries. They are far more sought-after criminals than we are, and they have their own goals. Even if he lives, I do not think that Gavriel will concern himself with us.”
“Really?”
“Only the gods know for certain.”
“Thanks, Smoke,” Gripper said. “I guess.”
Duaal opened a radio channel to the landing field’s tiny control center.
“Blake, this is the Blue Phoenix,” he said. “We’re ready to take off on surface vector two eighty-eight.”
“I hear you, Blue Phoenix,” came Blake’s rusty-sounding voice. “I’m monitoring Control chatter. We should have a window open for you in about ten minutes.”
Duaal propped his feet up on the controls in front of him and inspected his shoes. The leather was getting old. But when would there be money for replacements? Duaal silently cursed Maeve again for every one of her many, many crimes. Finally, he sat back and looked over at Tiberius.
“Are you alright, captain?” Duaal asked. “You’ve been on edge all day.”
Tiberius’ joints creaked in audible protest as he dropped into the pilot’s chair. “It’s nothing for you to worry about, Duaal.”
“Can’t you just talk to me a little? I’m bored and my head is still curling around the edges.”
“Go raid the medbay, then,” Tiberius said.
“Come on! Talk to me.”
There was a pause before Tiberius answered. “It’s all of this.”
“All of what?”
“Everything!” Tiberius shouted suddenly, startling Duaal.
The boy jumped and cracked his head hard against the cockpit’s low ceiling. He rubbed his scalp and checked for blood.
“Ouch,” Duaal groaned.
“I was a cop for forty-one years. I’m not some plucked criminal,” Tiberius said. “It shouldn’t be like this — squatting on illegal fields, buying our supplies on the sly.”
“You only tried to do right,” Duaal reminded him.
“And for that, I’m hiding like a rat.” Tiberius shook his head. “I don’t want to live the rest of my life under a rock.”
Duaal searched for something helpful to say, but couldn’t think of anything. He sighed and waited for Blake to tell them when it was time to finally fly away.
