THE REFORGED TRILOGY: BOOK 2 — SWORD OF DREAMS
Chapter 24: Black & White
“Dying for your beliefs shows only that you believe in death.”
– Kemmer Andus, Prian archeologist (233 PA)
“Everything is there,” Panna reported, exasperated. “What do you think they’re going to do? Steal the Waygate?”
Kemmer tempered his irritation with the flirtatious smile that he liked using with Panna. She barely resisted rolling her eyes. What did he think would happen? That his arrogant attempts at charm were going to seduce her one night?
He wouldn’t even try if he really knew Panna…
“Even if they can’t steal the Waygate, it doesn’t mean that they couldn’t steal the discovery, my dear,” Kemmer said, tapping a stylus on the datadex in front of him for emphasis. “A few scans and photos and we’d be falling out. So far, we’ve managed to keep everything nice and quiet.”
“So quiet the police don’t even know what’s going on up here!” Panna answered in a rising voice. “Doctor Kemmer, if they knew the magnitude of your discovery, surely they would send someone up to help protect the Waygate!”
“Panna, please,” Xen said. He put a long-fingered hand on her shoulder. “I know you’re upset, but–”
“But what?” Panna turned on her teacher. “But we were discreet. We hired Captain Myles and his friends. And now Maeve Cavainna is gone!”
“For which we’re all sorry, but the world turns on,” Kemmer said.
Xen frowned at Panna, but she wasn’t done.
“She has enemies! Enemies like the Cult of Nihil. Do you know anything about them?” Panna asked, shaking a fist in the air. Her nails were biting into her palms. “Well, I do!”
“What do you know about that?”
The voice came from behind her. Panna was so caught up in her anger that she failed to notice that Tiberius Myles and his crew had returned. She spun to find the red-faced old Prian stepping through the flap of the tent. Duaal and Xia followed their captain inside, and another Prian man that Panna didn’t immediately recognize. He was young, with handsome — if tired and drawn — features and sharp, predatory eyes.
Panna’s gaze dropped to his hands, one of cold-reddened flesh and the other all made of scarred illonium. Panna stared. She knew him… or of him, at least. Logan Coldhand. He stopped in the tent door and looked at Panna with narrowed blue eyes. Behind him, Gripper poked his head through, noting the fullness of the tent with a small frown.
“I… I read about what happened on Stray,” Panna told Tiberius. “I was curious.”
“Really?” Duaal asked, surprised. “That was pretty small news to the rest of the galaxy.”
Coldhand looked at the mage, then back to Panna. An icy shiver crawled up her spine. She took a step back, away from the bounty hunter, but not fast enough. Coldhand was on Panna in a second, moving as quick as a lightning strike. He grabbed her by the arm, hooked her feet out from under her with one ankle and dropped Panna to the ground. She felt his gun pressed against the back of her head and whimpered.
“What the hells do you think you’re doing?” Kemmer shouted. “Release her this instant!”
Tiberius didn’t waste time with words. He tore his own gun free and leveled it at Coldhand. The bounty hunter looked up at him through damp blond hair.
“Put that away, Myles,” Coldhand said.
“Let the girl go,” Tiberius told him.
Panna was too terrified to breathe. Her pulse pounded through her body, beating like a drum in her ears. The pressure of the laser against her skull eased, but only a little.
“She’s not a girl,” Coldhand said. “Not a human one, at least.”
“Don’t!”
It wasn’t Panna who had protested, but Xen. The Ixthian lunged at Coldhand, but Tiberius stepped into his way.
“One at a God-damn time,” Tiberius said in a low, angry voice. “You’ll get your piece in right time, Professor Xen. Now, what the hells do you mean not human, Coldhand?”
Panna pressed her face against the floor of the tent. Everything smelled like plastic. Could she die just by wishing to? A sob choked her and hot tears spilled out onto the ground.
“This girl is Arcadian,” Coldhand said.
There was a moment of stunned silence. Professor Xen was the first to break it.
“I know,” he said. “Now will you please let her go?”
The Talon-9 was cold against Panna’s skin.
“The Nihilists use a lot of Arcadians,” Coldhand said. “They’ve been using them to abduct other fairies. Is she one of theirs?”
“No,” Xen answered. “She’s not. Let her up.”
And then the gun was gone. Coldhand stood up, reholstering his weapon. Tiberius studied the bounty hunter for a moment and finally did the same. Panna remained still in the cooling puddle of her tears. She wanted to die.
“Panna?” Xen was offering his hand.
He knew. But how…? Panna reluctantly let the archeogeneticist help her to her feet. She sniffled and wiped her cheeks on the back of her sleeve. It was hard to meet the eyes around the tent. How long until Gruth, Phillip and Enu-Io found out?
“She looks human,” Kemmer said. He stood well away from Xen and Panna, she could not help noticing. “She can’t really be a bird-back, can she?”
“She had her wings removed and ears reshaped,” Coldhand told them. “But she is definitely Arcadian.”
Duaal squinted at her speculatively. “I can see it now, I guess, in the face and build. But how did you know, Logan?”
Panna sniffled and looked up at Coldhand.
“It was a good job, the best my parents could afford,” she said.
The bounty hunter nodded. “But it’s there in the way you walk, in your balance. You were meant to fly.”
Was that sorrow in Coldhand’s voice?
“You’re Prian,” Panna said. “You people love birds. But you have no idea what it’s like to grow up like one, like an animal. Nobody believes Arcadians are worth anything. We’re not allowed to go to Alliance colleges and I wanted…”
Panna’s voice failed her.
“I guess you don’t see Arcadians on Tynerion,” Tiberius said. He scratched his chin. “That was your problem with Maeve, wasn’t it? You were afraid she would notice that you were one of her own.”
“Yes,” Panna admitted. Her vision swam with a fresh flood of tears. “I didn’t want to disrespect a princess, but… but I didn’t know what else to do.”
There was a gust of cold air as Gripper finally pushed his way through the flap of the tent. “That’s why you were dropping stuff that first day! Smoke told me about it. She was really mad.”
Panna flinched. She had never meant to insult the princess. She never expected…
“I was just so shocked,” Panna said. “My mother always told me none of the royal family escaped the White Kingdom. And then I saw her on the news, after the encounter on Stray.”
Xia looked at Xen with orange disbelief in her eyes.
“You… you knew about this?” she asked.
“Does it matter, Xia?” Xen’s fingers tightened on Panna’s shoulder. She looked up at him. “She’s a good student, one of the best I’ve ever had. What does her species matter?”
“What does her species matter?” Xia repeated, aghast. “You can’t be serious, Xen! She lied about her race!”
Panna stood up to her full height — which wasn’t impressive in a tent full of humans, Ixthians and the looming Arboran outside — and glared at Xia.
“What choice did I have?” she asked. “I was born in the core. On a farm on Cyrus! But because I had wings, I couldn’t become an Alliance citizen.”
“It’s not about your wings, Panna,” Xia started to say, but Panna was too furious to listen.
“What is it, then?” she challenged. “Even Gripper got to take the test and become a proper citizen! But Arcadians are still considered refugees. It’s been a hundred years! My parents are little more than slaves on Cyrus. They cried when I told them I wanted the surgery, but they understood. I wanted to go to college. I wanted a better life!”
“You had some doctor cut off your wings just to go to school?” Tiberius asked, shaking his head. “I don’t understand you, dove.”
“You wouldn’t,” Panna answered as calmly as she could. “You’re Prian. You’d probably give just about anything to have wings.”
Coldhand was listening very closely. He didn’t nod, but Panna thought she saw understanding there in his eyes. The hunter had lost a part of himself, too, an important part. It wounded him still.
Panna looked back at Xen. He had kept her secret. An Ixthian ignoring her species… Panna realized she was blushing.
“All of this is why you’re so upset about Smoke now,” Gripper said, speaking up shyly but insistently. He wanted Maeve back, too. “She’s not just some lady. She’s your princess.”
“Yes…” Panna admitted. She turned toward Xen again. “Please, professor. Let me help look for her.”
“Of course,” he said with a sigh. “Since it looks like I can’t keep the secret of your genetics anymore.”
Everyone in the tent had almost forgotten about Kemmer until the Prian archeologist threw his hands in the air.
“Sure!” he shouted. “First we lose what remains of our security force and now you’re letting this… whatever-she-is fly off? Oh right, she can’t fly because she cut off her wings!”
“Shut up, Kemmer,” Xen snapped.
Panna smiled gratefully at her teacher, then looked between Tiberius and Coldhand.
“So… what do we do now?” she asked.
“I want to go down into Pylos to see Cerro,” Tiberius said. “We need to trade some information on what happened to Maeve. He’s under the impression that it was the same men who grabbed the equipment and killed Dannos.”
“But it’s not,” Duaal protested. “Logan pretty well told us it was the Nihilists who took her.”
Tiberius nodded. “But Cerro doesn’t know that the cult is on Prianus. We need to tell him they’re here, and they’re dangerous.”
“The information isn’t going to help anyone very much if we can’t find the cult,” Coldhand said. “If the police have anything on them, call me.”
The bounty hunter turned toward the exit, making Gripper — who was standing just inside the tent door — slink awkwardly out of his way. But Tiberius whistled at the bounty hunter and Coldhand stopped with his cybernetic hand clenching the weighted flap.
“What?” he asked.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
The hunter took an empty hypodermic needle from his pocket.
“They used this to drug Maeve,” Coldhand said. “Vanora White. A local mix. Gavriel didn’t bring this from the core.”
The core. If only she weren’t so badly shaken, Panna would have laughed. The Prians still barely considered themselves a part of the Central World Alliance.
“That means a Nihilist either bought or stole it,” Coldhand said. “There are lots of dealers in Pylos, but one of them should be able to point me — us — toward the cult. I’m going to track that dealer down.”
“Want a hand?” Duaal asked.
“No,” Tiberius interrupted. “We don’t need to talk to the dealers. We can go to the Pylos police.”
“I can’t talk to the police,” Coldhand said flatly.
“I can. They’ll have more information than the dealers.”
Coldhand considered for a moment.
“It would help,” he answered slowly.
“Let’s go, then!” Duaal said, heading for the tent exit.
“Not you,” Tiberius said sharply. “You stay here.”
“What?” the mage protested. “Not a chance!”
“You’re sick, Duaal,” Tiberius growled. “Xia doesn’t know what’s causing your headaches. You should stay here and rest.”
“I’ve been feeling better! Let me work on this, captain.”
Tiberius thought for a moment, then sighed. “Alright. But stick close to Xia and you come back to camp the moment you feel ill.”
Xia spared one last questioning glance at Xen, then looked at Duaal. “I’ll come keep an eye on him, captain.”
After another argument with Kemmer over using his trucks, Tiberius and the rest left the tent. But Panna was the last one out. She lingered, watching Xen. She couldn’t leave just yet. Kemmer studiously ignored her.
“What is it, Panna?” Xen asked, furrowing his white brows.
“You… knew about me?”
“I’m Ixthian,” he said simply. “Of course I knew.”
“And you don’t care?”
“Why should I?” Xen asked. His eyes darkened a shade. “Panna, I don’t know your reasons and they’re none of my business. I’m your teacher and you’ve earned your right to be here.”
“What about Gruth and the rest?” Panna asked.
“I’ll talk to them. They’re not going to say anything, either.”
“But… you’re Ixthian,” Panna protested, echoing back his own words. “Xia’s right. I lied about my race! Doesn’t that bother you?”
Xen’s eyes went a dark blue and the pain on his face tugged at Panna’s heart.
“I once wanted something forbidden by my race, too.” He gave a small, self-mocking laugh. “No, that’s melodramatic. Not forbidden, but I let go of something I wanted because it was the Ixthian thing to do. When you came to my office and I realized what you were, I didn’t want you to let go, too. Now, go find your princess. I’ll be here when you get back.”
Panna didn’t trust herself to speak. She ducked her head and hurried from the tent.
Xartasia left Maeve alone with the horror of Gavriel’s intentions. Summoning the Devourers, bringing that nightmare back into the worlds?
“Give him what he wants,” Xartasia had urged one final time. There was sadness in her voice, but also a sweet kind of hope. “Be at peace, cousin. Soon, none of this will matter.”
Maeve could only scream questions and obscenities as Xartasia pulled the door shut behind her and sealed the rotting room in darkness once more. If there was anyone else outside, they didn’t answer Maeve’s cries.
Eventually, her voice faded to a rasp. The deep chill silenced her voice, but could not quiet her thoughts. Was Gavriel mad? Yes, to be sure, but what man could possibly be mad enough to go seeking the Devourers? And Xartasia wanted to help him kill trillions? Maeve couldn’t imagine such despair.
Even in her worst moments, she only ever wanted to kill herself.
But the thought offered no comfort or vindication now. It didn’t make Maeve any better than Xartasia. It only meant that she was less likely to ever understand the Nihilists. How could anyone hate life so much?
Hours passed in the utter blackness. Even the glass-sharp edge of Maeve’s terror dulled as her body’s needs made themselves uncomfortably known. Her muscles cramped and her bladder was achingly full. In cruel irony, she was thirsty, too. The aftereffects of Vanora White made her head throb.
Maeve closed her eyes and tried to sleep. Everything hurt. The darkness behind Maeve’s lids was the same as the inky black of her prison and offered no relief.
