THE REFORGED TRILOGY: BOOK 3 — HAMMER OF TIME
Chapter 15: Shades of Sunset
“A queen’s love must not be for a consort, but for her people.”
– Ferris Verridian (234 PA)
“We’re out of money,” Panna said.
“Again?” Duaal looked up from a datadex he was sketching on. “But we sold that new batch of phenno just three days ago.”
“There are nearly six thousand Arcadians out there now,” Panna pointed out. “And more arriving every week.”
“We’ve got seven glass-smiths working on housing and towers,” Duaal said. “If Stray’s got one abundant free thing, it’s sand. We’re moving fairies out of those tents at a good rate.”
“But they can’t eat sand,” Xia told him. “There is the cost of their medical care, too. Kessa’s helping out — unpaid, by the way — but that doesn’t reduce the cost of the medications I need.”
“And there’s the passage we’re paying for off-world Arcadians to come here,” Panna added. “There aren’t that many yet, but hopefully that cost will only go up.”
Duaal groaned and threw his datadex down on the table and Panna picked it up curiously. It was another crown design. This one was less elaborate than the others, little more than a circlet of glass with a single raised point. Panna liked it. She held the datadex out to Xia. The Ixthian nodded.
“I think Maeve will love it,” Xia said.
“She had better,” Duaal grumbled. “It’s the seventh one I’ve designed. I liked number three better.”
“It looked like a glass hedgehog,” Xia said.
“It looked grand,” Duaal corrected primly. “Maeve could use a little grand.”
“I think this one is just perfect,” Panna said. She pointed to the row of windows along the Blue Phoenix’s mess. “Besides, the grand crown is out there.”
A dozen slender spires rose from the desert, shining under the pale sky. Another five spiraled up half-finished, slender lattices like translucent vines spun up into soaring towers. As hard as Hyra and Lorren worked, they couldn’t entirely clarify the rust-colored Stray sand and the glass towers were shot all through with streaks of red, orange and yellow that turned them into elongated, frozen flames. The citizens of the little desert city had begun calling it Kaellisem — Firehome.
Arcadians flew between the glass towers, indistinct silhouettes from this distance. Kaellisem wasn’t much like true Arcadia, Panna suspected, but she had never seen the five worlds of the old White Kingdom. For a girl from the farms of Cyrus, Kaellisem was something out of myth.
“I suppose it is rather lovely,” Duaal said grudgingly. “Speaking of lovely, where is our little queen?”
“She’s greeting the new arrivals,” Panna said. She didn’t take her eyes from the view outside. “Coldhand and Gripper went with her. The ship from Prianus is finally here.”
“It’s been more than a month since Logan sent that message. No wonder we’re spending so much on shipping,” Duaal said. He stood and took his datadex back from Xia. “Well, I guess I’d better get this down to Hyra. We’ll need something to put on Maeve’s head at the coronation tomorrow night.”
No one offered to help Ballad with his bags. That was fine with him — the young Arcadian didn’t own much and didn’t particularly want someone else handling it. But they could have helped Vellania. The old woman struggled with a sack that had gotten wedged between two seats. Kashan pushed and glared his way past a pair of chattering humans to help her pull it free.
Ballad landed at the bottom of the narrow exit stairs. Stray was nothing like Prianus. The sun was large, dim and red, arcing ponderously across a pale sky. There was a low, dusty city to one side and sandy rust-red dunes on the other. The air was dry and dirty. Ballad broke into a fit of coughing. When he recovered, scrubbing his eyes and straightening with a rustle of feathers, Ballad saw a pair of familiar shapes making their way across the blastphalt. It was Logan Coldhand and the strange alien who had accompanied him back in Pylos, Gripper. Ballad squinted against the red sun. Was the bounty hunter… smiling?
“Hey!” Gripper shouted, waving Ballad over. He enveloped one of the Arcadian’s hands in his own and shook it enthusiastically. “We’ve been waiting for you!”
Ballad had questions, but there was no chance to ask them before Logan pulled him into a tight embrace. Ballad gaped as the Prian released him. Was this really the same haunted, harried man he had met in Pylos? There were the scarred illonium hand and the dark blond hair, the ice-blue eyes and even the Talon laser on his hip. But this Logan looked years younger, full of life and purpose — and sincere pleasure to see Ballad again.
“Vorus found you, then,” Logan said as he released the fairy boy. “How was he?”
“Good,” Ballad answered. “The palaestrum is doing well, he said to tell you.”
“He didn’t come with you, did he?” Logan asked, then shook his head and sighed. “No, he wouldn’t have. Vorus would never leave Prianus. Where are Kashan and An’assi?”
“Kashan’s still on the ship, helping the others. We brought more. Vellania and her family and some others. We couldn’t leave them. An’assi died about a week before I got your message,” Ballad said. The loss still hurt deeply. “He caught something. It went right to his lungs and killed him in two weeks.”
Logan bowed his head for a moment and then turned, gesturing for Ballad to follow. “Gripper, help Kashan and the rest. I’m taking him to Maeve.”
“Sure, Hunter,” Gripper said. He ignored the strange looks that he was getting and made his way into the passenger liner.
“Maeve?” Ballad asked. He had to jog to keep up with the much taller Prian. “That’s the dove you were looking for back in Pylos, isn’t it? Sounds like you found her.”
“Yes, I did.”
The fierce note of joy and pride in Logan’s voice made Ballad wonder. This was all too strange… Vorus appearing in Pylos with money and an invitation to Stray, saying that there was an Arcadian queen in Gharib. Logan led Ballad around a small, unstaffed control center and he stopped short.
A woman stood in the dusty gray shadows, an Arcadian in elaborately knotted red and gold scarves, with silver eyes and hair as black as the void between stars. Ballad whistled.
“That’s Maeve?” he asked. “The new queen?”
He suddenly understood the change in Logan, at least in part. Ballad had lived his whole life on Prianus, among the desperate and dying remains of the White Kingdom, worlds he had never known. Maeve seemed a piece of that history, a fragment honed to a spear point and hung with banner-ribbons like the knights of old. He wondered if he should bow.
Maeve — Queen Maeve — bit her lip like a nervous schoolgirl.
“Logan tells me it is to you I owe my rescue in Pylos,” she said.
“Well, he’s the one who found you, Majesty,” Ballad answered, then gave Logan a sidelong look. “Right?”
“Not without a lot of help,” he said. “But you were the one who sent me to the Kayton base camp.”
Ballad smirked. So he really had helped.
“They say there was a Waygate there and the cops had a claws-out war with the Devourers over it. Is that true?” Ballad asked.
Maeve and Logan exchanged a look and the raven-haired Arcadian queen nodded slowly.
“Yes,” she admitted. “And we failed to entirely banish them. The Devourers are still out there, under the command of my cousin.”
“We have a lot to talk about,” Logan said. “And some important things to show you. Once we collect Vellania and the rest, we’ll get back to Kaellisem.”
“Kaellisem?” Ballad asked.
It sounded Arcadian, but there were no Arcadian cities in CWA space. Were there?
Duke Ferris was waiting for her at the gates. At least, that was what the residents of Kaellisem called them: The Gates of the Sun. There were no real gates, just two red-streaked pillars of glass that rose up from the desert floor and came to sharp points high in the sky. They were actually just experiments, tests of the Stray glass’ integrity. But the two pointed pillars had become symbols of Kaellisem, of the new Arcadia. Maeve hoped they wouldn’t fall over during the next sandstorm.
Ferris stood in the flame-colored shadows with hands tucked into the sleeves of his flowing blue robe and his braids whipping in the dry wind. They were woven with silver ribbons almost indistinguishable from the streaks of gray through his blond hair. Maeve stopped between the glass pillars.
“Is this important?” she asked. She nodded back toward Ballad and the rest of the new Arcadians who had landed behind her. “We have tired newcomers.”
Ferris took in Ballad’s appearance — his worn denims torn out at one knee, short Prian-styled hair and the leather jacket cut up the back to fit over his wings — and frowned. Ballad frowned right back.
“It concerns your coronation tomorrow,” Ferris said, shifting his gaze back to Maeve.
“It’s fine, Glass,” Gripper told her. “Hunter and I can help them settle. They’re going to the new tower, right?”
Maeve nodded and Logan shifted one of Vellania’s bags across his shoulder, then bent to kiss Maeve before heading away to escort the Arcadians down the road toward one of the delicate glass spires. Ballad waved to Maeve, spread his wings and followed the rest of the fairies.
Ferris’ lips remained in a tight, unhappy line. “That is the one Coldhand wanted so much money to bring here? Where is he from? He has the manners of a dryad.”
“Prianus,” Maeve answered. “Logan was hunting the Nihilists in Pylos when Ballad accosted him. He was trained by someone Logan greatly respected. Ballad is very brave and very capable.”
“Capable of what?” Ferris asked sourly, but then shook his head. “Forgive me, a’shae. All are welcome in Kaellisem, naturally.”
Maeve was grateful that the duke didn’t want to argue about Ballad.
“You wished to speak with me about the coronation?” she asked.
“About after you are crowned, in truth,” Ferris said. “Please, my queen, will you fly with me?”
Maeve vaulted into the air beside Ferris. The wind was hot but strong, lifting them high into the pale sky over Kaellisem. The small — but gleaming — glass city spread out below them, red and gold and fiery orange and deep, secretive russet. Winged Arcadians stood or sat on translucent balconies. Some walked down the single central road. There were a few stalls set up, staffed by humans and Lyra in hopes of wheedling a few cenmarks from the new settlers. Maeve caught a glimpse of Logan and the others just before they vanished into one of the half-finished towers.
“Kaellisem is amazing,” Ferris said softly, just loud enough to carry over the wind to Maeve’s pointed ears. “You have done more for our people in six weeks than anyone has in decades, my queen. You have given us a home and hope we thought long dead.”
Maeve chewed her lip. Ferris gave her too much credit for Kaellisem. It was the glass-singers, under Hyra’s direction and leadership, who were building the new city, not Maeve. But it was good to see glass towers rising up toward the sun again, even an alien sun. Kaellisem was beautiful.
Duke Ferris landed on top of a slender rose-colored bridge that connected a pair of Kaellisem’s tallest towers. Another Arcadian man waited in the center of the translucent span. He was older than Maeve, but much younger than Duke Ferris. He wore his hair in a smooth fall of blond braids woven with midnight blue ribbons. His clothes, too, were simple: pants and a sleeveless shirt of a smooth silver fabric. He turned to face them as Maeve and Ferris landed.
Maeve gasped. She knew him.
“Anthem? What are you doing here?” Maeve narrowed her eyes and took several steps back. “Ferris, this man is Anthem Calloren. He was Titania’s consort before the fall!”
“He knows who I am,” Anthem said. He held up his hands. He wasn’t carrying a spear, or any kind of blade that Maeve could see. “Whatever else you decide… I want only to speak with you.”
“Why? Has Xartasia sent you to kill me?” Maeve asked.
Her heart raced. She had to fly. She needed her spear. She had to get to Logan. Maeve was no match for Anthem Calloren alone, but with her hunter, she might be able to fight him… Ferris placed a gently restraining hand on Maeve’s tensed arm. Was the old duke a traitor? After all this, was he going to deliver Maeve to her cousin? Or perhaps just her head…?
“Listen to him,” Ferris said urgently.
Anthem took a half-step closer, his hands held open as though approaching a dangerous animal. Maeve glared at the pale-haired knight.
“Speak quickly,” she hissed. “What could my cousin’s lover want of me?”
“To join you,” Anthem answered. “I saw the royal palace fall on Illisem. For a hundred years, I believed Titania dead. Now you tell us that she lives… but I cannot rejoice.”
“Sir Anthem was here in Gharib,” Duke Ferris told Maeve. “He sought me out and begged an audience with you.”
Anthem looked at her with eyes of the same dark sapphire color as the ribbons in his hair. “I would join you, Queen Maeve. If it is true that the woman I loved has become a monster, then you are all I have left of her.”
Maeve stared. Could it be true? Anthem Calloren was one of the greatest knights of the White Kingdom, rivaling even Orthain Fyre. Kaellisem had no knights, but with Anthem’s help, maybe Maeve could change that…
“Thank you, Sir Anthem,” she said, voice wavering. “I…”
Before she could share her idea, Ferris’ fingers tightened on her shoulder. Maeve tore her eyes from Anthem to look at the duke.
“My queen…” Ferris said. “There is more here before you than a knight. I see what the human hunter, Coldhand, means to you. But he is not of noble blood. He is not even Arcadian.”
The glass city spun around Maeve.
“What?” she asked. “What does that matter?”
“You have given our people a queen, but now they need a king,” Ferris told her. “An Arcadian king, a’shae.”
Maeve tore herself from Ferris’ grasp and staggered away. There was empty air under her heels and Maeve had to beat her wings once, swiftly, to propel her back onto the bridge.
“Logan is my enarri,” she shouted. “I love him! He walked alone through the storm to find me. We have shared bed and battle and bloodshed!”
“I do not doubt his worth as a man,” Ferris said, though the sour note of distaste in his voice made it quite clear that he did. “But your people thought the House of Cavain dead for a hundred years. They see your black hair now and hope that the White Kingdom may be theirs again. The pride and the history, my queen… But there can be no royal line without heirs, a’shae. Even if the people could ever respect a human consort, Logan Coldhand cannot father Arcadian children.”
“And so you would… would have me give him up?” Maeve said. Blood roared in her ears like a stormy ocean. She pointed a shaking finger at Anthem. “My enarri? For this man?”
“Sir Calloren was a worthy consort to King Illain’s eldest daughter, heir to the throne,” Ferris reminded her. “He is an unparalleled knight of a well-known noble house. He is a good match for you, Highness. Your people would cheer to see Sir Anthem beside their new crowned queen tomorrow.”
Maeve couldn’t speak. She spun to stare at Anthem. Surely he would have nothing to do with this… madness. But he looked up at Maeve with blue-black eyes.
“I would be honored to serve however I may,” Anthem said. “I offer myself freely as knight or consort, my queen.”
No. Maeve could never do it. She loved Logan. No one could make her give him up…
But Ferris’ idea did make a wretched sort of sense. Maeve and Xartasia were the last of their line and without an Arcadian mate, there would never be another black-haired fairy ever again. Cavain’s house would fail. After ten thousand years, it would die.
Maeve reeled, threw out her wings and dove off the bridge. Hot tears seared her eyes and she very nearly smashed into a golden-streaked tower before she finally found Logan standing out in the street, talking to Ballad’s friend, Kashan. Maeve fell to the ground and threw herself into her hunter’s arms.
“Maeve…?” Logan asked, surprised. His ice-blue eyes went hard and dangerous. “What’s wrong, dove?”
