THE REFORGED TRILOGY: BOOK 2 — SWORD OF DREAMS
Chapter 27: Through Ice
“Love is a reason to live. Lust is a reason to kill.”
– Syna Cordos, Andris Gian writer (103 PA)
Xia drove in silence so long that Duaal began wondering if she had forgotten that she wanted to talk. Through the dense, loud pack of Pylos traffic, the white-haired Ixthian woman remained quiet. Just driving, focused on her task.
Duaal leaned against the window and pressed his cheek to the cold glass. His skin had the sweaty, brittle feel of a fever. He had felt that way since waking up in the back of the truck.
It all felt familiar… sort of. Headaches were pretty normal for spacefarers. Every planet in the galaxy had different air pressure and atmospheric mix, full of pollens from different plants and the fur, feathers and dander of different animals. A million variations that could be hard on a body.
But now the hallucination and the fever… This was much more like the early days with Gavriel, when Duaal had been just a little boy, living in a half-remembered haze of pain and strange dreams and endless singing. Always singing.
A woman singing, Duaal suddenly remembered. Gavriel’s voice, yes, but a female voice, too. Singing to him… At him.
Xia finally took the truck up out of Pylos and back into the high mountains. Tall pine trees loomed up from the misty afternoon like ragged black spears. A few white swirls of snow eddied through the thinning forest as the road wound its way up toward the base camp.
Duaal pressed his forehead against the window. The fever-heat was fading. So were the memories, replaced now by other thoughts and a more pleasant warmth.
“We should make sure Logan comes back up to Kemmer’s camp tonight,” Duaal said. “In case something changes. It would be pretty silly for him to stay in Pylos while we’re working together. Wasting that color on a hotel–”
“Damn it, Duaal!” Xia shouted suddenly, slamming one of her hands down on the steering wheel. “What is wrong with you?”
“What?” Duaal asked.
“Why Coldhand? You can interrogate me? That’s what you told him, Duaal! What were you thinking?”
“I was only flirting a little,” he said defensively. “What’s wrong with that?”
“Why him? Why are you after that man?” Xia asked.
“You just don’t like his cybernetics.”
“Of course I don’t like them,” Xia said, waving one six-fingered hand dismissively. “But that’s beside the point, Duaal. Coldhand is dangerous! He’s a bounty hunter and a killer. He’s bad for you!”
“You don’t know that,” Duaal answered quickly.
“Yes, I do. I’ve been watching you do this for years. Remember that man on Hadra? You came back with two sprained wrists.”
Duaal remembered him — a huge, handsome pounceball player. But then Coldhand had found Maeve again and forced them off-planet before Duaal could make a second date.
“And that Lyran woman on Axis?” Xia asked.
“Lyrans have claws. Was that her fault?”
“She didn’t have to use them, Duaal!” Xia protested. “Coldhand might not have claws, but he’s even worse. We’re working out of a camp full of intelligent young men and women, but you insist on Coldhand?”
Duaal shrugged and looked out the window again. They were crossing an icy bridge and would be back at the base camp soon.
“I’m just not interested in any of the others,” Duaal said. “So?”
Xia sighed. “Why not, Duaal? I thought you liked Enu-Io.”
“And I thought you were about to jump back into Xen’s arms,” Duaal answered sharply. “But you managed to surprise everyone. Look, Enu-Io is fine, but he’s just…”
Duaal trailed off with a shrug.
“Smart? Gentle and caring?” Xia asked bitterly.
Duaal wasn’t sure what to say. Snow and stone streaked past the window. After an uncomfortably long silence, the base camp finally came into view. Xia pulled the truck to a stop and got out to answer questions from Kemmer and Phillip about their progress.
“Where is everyone else?” she asked Kemmer suspiciously. Her eyes went dark.
“What exactly are you suggesting?” Kemmer asked.
“Nothing,” Xia said. “I just want to know where the others are. Are they alright?”
“They’re fine,” Phillip answered.
The geologist pointed up the slope of the moraine.
“Doctor Kemmer told us to take most of the gear down into the ravine,” Phillip said. “We should be pretty much moved down there by tonight.”
“So we only have to protect one location,” Xia finished, nodding at Kemmer. “That was a good idea.”
The Prian archeologist offered no answer, instead turning and walking away through the snow toward the ravine. Phillip had more questions about what was happening down in Pylos, but Duaal was getting cold.
He went back to the Blue Phoenix tent, turned on the heater and flopped down on his cot. Duaal had thrown his arm across his face and didn’t see Xia come inside. But he heard her footsteps on the tent’s plastic floor and then felt her sit at the corner of his bed. The mage removed his arm reluctantly.
“What do you want?” he asked.
Xia’s eyes were a soft, concerned pink. She looked down at her hands, fingers laced in her lap.
“I just wanted to apologize for yelling at you,” she said.
Duaal didn’t want to think about the argument. “It’s fine.”
“No,” Xia told him. She was still staring at her hands. “It’s something I’ve been considering for some time now, but I didn’t say it well. I’m surprised how upset I was.”
“What do you care who I sleep with?” Duaal asked. “It’s none of your business.”
“I know, but I… I worry about you,” Xia said.
“Why?”
“You always seem to hurt yourself. You like dangerous lovers… You’re always picking fights with Tiberius and Maeve.”
“Wait, I thought you said those fights were the captain’s fault!” Duaal challenged, feeling suddenly betrayed. He sat up and glared at Xia. “You said that he was being overprotective!”
Xia looked up. “And that’s true. He is, but you always make it worse! It’s as if you need him to be angry with you, or that you want Coldhand to hurt you.”
“It’s not like that…” Duaal protested.
“Isn’t it?” Xia uncurled her silvery hands and put one of them on the young human’s knee.
“No, it’s not,” Duaal said stubbornly.
“Oh? What about Gavriel?”
The heater was doing its job, filling the tent with warmth, but Duaal’s blood went cold and he began to shiver.
“What about him?” he asked through clenched teeth.
Xia hesitated, reaching for the words. “He was terrible to you, but his abuses were the only attention you had for many years.”
“So?”
“So… maybe you’re looking for that again,” Xia said. “By trying to make Tiberius angry with you, by seeking out lovers like Coldhand.”
Duaal didn’t like it, but had to admit that the idea made some sense. He dropped his gaze. “Fine. What does it matter? Just leave me to it, Xia.”
“No. I’m not just going to stand aside and watch you get hurt over and over again,” Xia said. She moved closer, planting a hand on either side of his hips. Her burnished lips were very close, Duaal realized. Her eyes changed to a dark violet. “I want you to have something better than that. I want to give you something better.”
Duaal had rarely seen an Ixthian’s eyes turn that deep, lustful color.
“But I’m human,” he said. “Don’t you care about that? You were so angry with Xen about Panna…”
“I… don’t know anymore,” Xia murmured. “Maybe Xen is right. Maybe he’s not. But I do know that you deserve someone who won’t hurt you, Duaal.”
It shouldn’t have sounded strange, he thought, but it did. Exotic, a promise of something brand new. Duaal let Xia pull him into her arms and press her cool silver lips against his.
Xia’s lovemaking was everything she promised it would be. Her touch was gentle and tender. She denied Duaal nothing and when they finally collapsed sweating into the blankets, the tent had fallen into twilight dimness. Xia touched her fingers to Duaal’s forehead and smiled.
“How do you feel?” she asked.
“Good,” Duaal answered with a blush.
“No headaches or hallucinations?”
“None. I do feel a little hot, though.”
“So you are,” Xia said. She kissed Duaal, then cocked her head. “Do you hear that?”
Duaal listened. There was the sound of ice crunching beneath tires from outside.
“They’re back,” he said.
Even if she had any food, Maeve would have traded it in a heartbeat just to close her eyes for a few minutes. The single lamp burned blindingly in the darkness and the light seemed to stab right through her eyes like blazing needles, but she couldn’t stop herself from looking. Another Nihilist watched over Maeve, ready to hit or scream at her if she did more than blink. If he would only leave for a minute, or fall asleep himself, then she could close her eyes…
Maeve’s head drooped. The new Nihilist laughed and hefted a broken towel rod. With an effort, Maeve looked up again, but not in time to keep the cultist from jabbing the end of the metal pole into her stomach. Maeve coughed. With her good foot, she kicked an impotent spray of dust up at him.
“You stay awake, bird-back,” he said. “Lord Gavriel doesn’t want you missing any of the fun.”
“Your master will have nothing from me,” Maeve spat.
The black-robed man laughed again.
With Gripper’s help — the big Arboran was even stronger than the muscular Enu-Io — the archeologists broke down the last tents and moved their whole camp down into the ravine. Only the trucks and Logan’s Raptor remained up on the surface of the snow-covered mountain.
“Is it safe down here?” Tiberius asked.
He carried a sleeping bag over one shoulder and looked around. The two Prian diggers had cleared away more of the rubble to make room along the slanting fissure floor.
“I spent most of the day helping Phil to shore up the walls,” Ava said from ahead.
“Unless we get hit by another groundquake, we should be safe enough,” Darius said. The sibling pair held the last rolled-up tent suspended between them.
Logan followed at the back of the line. Kemmer Andus had only reluctantly agreed to allow the bounty hunter down into the ravine. Logan walked carefully behind Panna and watched her blonde hair rippling across her shoulders, the shoulders that should have had wings stretching out behind them. Funneled by the sheer walls of stone, the wind howled overhead.
Duaal said there was a Waygate down here, just like those in the White Kingdom. But in the tight confines of the crevice, Logan had a hard time imagining it.
The jagged ground suddenly gave way to something much more broad and even. Logan found himself in a widening section of the ravine, painstakingly dug open into something resembling a cavern and ringed all around by spotlights. They steamed and sizzled as snow filtered slowly down from the distant sky.
Most of the domed white tents had already been set up all along one side of the cavern, where the overhang protected them from most of the weather. Enu-Io and Gripper took the last tent from the Prian diggers and set about erecting it at the end of the line.
The Lyran mechanic, Gruth, followed a short red-haired human around the perimeter of the underground camp. Gruth took notes on a datadex as the human man poked a tapered pole against the stone walls.
The flap of the largest tent was still open and the tables inside were arranged into two parallel lines, all covered in computers and equipment that Logan didn’t recognize. Some of it had the bulky, old-fashioned look of Prian gear, but more of it was trim, sleek and modern. That must have come with the Tynerion team.
And towering over it all was the Waygate. Logan had seen a few pictures, copies of those few images brought back from the original Alliance explorers who had discovered Arcadia decades before its destruction by the Devourers. But a few schoolbook prints were no match for the real thing.
The Waygate was huge. A vast segmented stone ring — wide enough to fly the Raptor through the middle — sat at the peak of a stepped pyramid so tall that Logan had to crane his neck to see the top. The circular gate glowed with a strange luminescence that swirled like clouds in a storm.
“Amazing, isn’t it?” Panna asked.
Logan didn’t answer her. What had it been like for Maeve here, standing before the Waygate? Had she been awed at the sight of the great monument? Or devastated by this enormous and beautiful reminder of her lost home? Or was it a way back, perhaps, if there was a home to return to?
Maeve had used a Waygate to accidentally summon the Devourers, Logan thought. Was it painful to find another Waygate here on Prianus? Frightening? Logan had a hard time imagining Maeve being frightened by much. She had faced even her own death with fierce grace. But what of the Nihilists who had caught her? Was she afraid of them?
Logan turned away. Beautiful and impressive though it was, the Waygate wouldn’t help him find Maeve.
Everyone gathered together in the largest tent to share their information and some dinner. Logan sat at the end of one table while the archeologists eyed him warily — which suited the bounty hunter just fine — but Panna had insisted on sitting across from Logan and grilling him for anything about Maeve.
“I haven’t found anything yet,” he told her again.
“But you’ve found Princess Cavainna before!” Panna said. “You must have some idea where to find her.”
Logan shoved his plate away. The food that Phillip had prepared smelled good, but he wasn’t hungry.
“No.”
Gripper also sat nearby. The Arboran hadn’t touched his food, either. Instead, he stared across the tent to where Duaal and Xia ate. The two sat very close together and smiled a little too often. Panna looked between Logan and Gripper, then shoved their untouched plates back toward them.
“Eat,” she told them. “Neither one of you are doing Maeve any good just sitting here moping.”
“I’m not moping,” Logan said coldly.
Gripper looked down at Panna as though he had forgotten she was there. “What?”
“Eat your dinner, Gripper,” Panna said. “Phillip cooked.”
“Oh. Alright.” Gripper slowly began spooning stewed kale and carrots into his mouth. “You seem to know a lot about Smoke and Coldhand.”
“I read about Princess Cavainna after what happened on Stray. Her relationship to Coldhand came up during the trial. That’s how I knew who he was — who you were — this morning. Has it really been less than a day?” Panna shook her head in wonder.
“Why do you care about Maeve?” Logan asked. “You cut off your wings and turned away from your own race.”
“You left Prianus,” Xen pointed out from further down the table. “That doesn’t mean you don’t care about it.”
The rest of the tent had gone very quiet. Duaal whispered something into Xia’s ear that Logan couldn’t hear and Tiberius frowned. Logan waited for him to answer Xen, probably calling Coldhand a traitor at least twice before he was done. But Tiberius said nothing. Orphia preened on a nearby perch, ignoring everyone.
“I love my people,” Panna said. Her voice was quiet, but clearly audible through the tent. “Believe it or not, that’s actually why I had my wings removed and my ears clipped.”
“I don’t understand,” Enu-Io said. “Please explain.”
Panna swallowed and looked across the faces all turned her way. “I was born after the fall of Arcadia, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know anything about it. I grew up on stories of the old world. And I loved them. Well, most of them.”
Logan clenched his cybernetic left hand. He couldn’t imagine where Panna might be going with this story that would make any sense. How could anyone volunteer to have a part of themselves cut off and thrown away like trash?
“All the stories we have left are sad ones,” Panna went on. “The beauty and grace of the White Kingdom is being lost every day as the Arcadians give in to their despair. It’s like the fall all over again, but slow… so we don’t miss a moment of it.
“I wanted to study my own history and people, so I decided to go to college on Tynerion and study anthropology. But Arcadians can’t become Alliance citizens, so they can’t go to CWA colleges. I had to look human. I thought I kept my secret so well.”
Panna gave Xen a sheepish smile.
“You should have known better, my dear,” said the Ixthian.
“I can’t believe I never smelled the difference,” Gruth said. “My mother would be ashamed.”
“I never noticed, either, and the Dailon sense of smell is almost as good as yours. Our assumptions blinded us,” Enu-Io said, then grinned, white teeth flashing behind dark blue lips. “Or whatever the word for blind is when we can’t smell things.”
Ava and Phillip — who hadn’t paid much attention to the conversation so far — laughed at this and then returned to stealing bites of each other’s fried potatoes. Kemmer sat sullenly off to one side of the tent, reading a datadex. Xia and Duaal went back to whispering to each other.
What were they doing? Eating dinner and trading stories while the Cult of Nihil had Maeve. And they had no more leads, no way to find her…
Logan abruptly stood and left the tent. The spotlights were still on outside, illuminating the wet stone walls of the ravine. Logan could feel the tons of rock pressing in all around him, pinning him helplessly in place.
He didn’t want to feel this. He didn’t want to feel anything at all.
I can still leave. I should.
There were drifts of white snow against the sides of the ravine, but none inside the relatively warm circle of lamps. The Waygate was too high and large to benefit much, but the occasional pale flakes could find no purchase on the smooth material and slid away. Logan heard heavy footsteps behind him.
“What do you want, Gripper?” he asked.
The Arboran stopped not far away, ducking his head sheepishly. “I just had to get out of there.”
“Duaal and Xia?”
“Yeah. I’ve never seen them like that.”
“They’re tugging tails,” Logan said.
Gripper flinched, then sighed. “I guess so. I didn’t want to stay and watch them make kissy faces at each other.”
“Fine.”
“What are you doing out here?” Gripper asked. His shadow was long and loomed up over Logan. “Are you thinking about how to get Smoke back?”
Logan didn’t look at him. “You still call her that?”
“I was trying to come up with a new name, just before they took her. She’s not like she used to be, Coldhand. She actually tries to be happy, I think.”
“Tries?”
Gripper stood next to Logan. Neither one looked at the other, eyes fixed instead on the towering shape of the Waygate. The great ring of flowing light seemed to stare back at them.
“I don’t think she knows how,” Gripper said. “She… Maeve isn’t trying to die anymore, but she doesn’t really know how to live. She’s just sort of… drifting.”
Logan understood. He was lost, too, ever since he came back to Prianus — first pushed by Vorus and by the Cult of Nihil, then by Ballad and now by his search for Maeve. Now he was pulled underground, into the shadow of an alien Waygate, while he wondered what to do next.
As the night wore on, Kemmer asked Darius to turn off most of the spotlights. No need to waste power when the archeologists weren’t working. But their new camp remained warmer than the mountaintop and more or less dry — as long as Gruth and Gripper kept the pumps operational.
Hoping for a little bit of privacy, Duaal dragged his cot outside the tent and into a secluded rocky alcove. Xen had asked to speak to Xia, but she came looking for Duaal a little while later. He threw back the covers and gave the Ixthian an inviting wink.
“What did the professor want?” he asked.
Xia shrugged out of her clothes and slid into bed beside Duaal. Her silvery skin was smooth against him.
“He wanted me to take a look at Panna,” Xia said.
“Why? Is there something wrong with her?” Duaal asked, propping himself up on one elbow.
“Other than being worried about Maeve? No. But Xen cares a lot about that girl. He wanted to know if the surgery she had was done properly.”
“Was it?”
“Her surgeon did pretty good work. There are some scars, but they’re not bad. And it looks like the operation was done some time ago,” Xia reported. “That girl’s older than she looks. Younger than Maeve, but older than me.”
“You’re just old enough to know what you’re doing,” Duaal told Xia with a grin. He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her close. Her short white hair tickled his cheek.
“Everyone is old to a man as young as you are,” she said with a small laugh. “Did you see where Coldhand went?”
“Nope.” Duaal shook his head. “Should I have?”
Xia’s smile was all shining silver lips and white teeth. “No.”
Duaal nuzzled the side of her neck. “I hope we can find Maeve tomorrow.”
“So do I,” Xia said softly.
They lay together in the darkness and didn’t sleep.
“Tomorrow will go hard for you, my cousin. Unless you give Gavriel what he wants.”
Maeve jerked and opened her eyes. Had she been sleeping? The pain returned, racing like fire all through her body.
Xartasia stood in the doorway of Maeve’s makeshift prison. The other princess was dressed as though to attend her father’s court, in flowing white and gold that flashed like sunlight, even in the wan radiance of the old lantern.
Maeve searched wildly around, but they were alone. For now, though there were indistinct voices in the hallway outside. The rest of the Nihilists weren’t far away.
“You let me sleep?” Maeve asked. Her mouth was as dry as dust.
“For a little while, my cousin,” Xartasia said. “I am sorry I could allow you no more. But if you are too well rested, Gavriel will see it.”
Xartasia stepped into the room and then closed the crooked door. Her expression was sad as she took in Maeve’s injuries and the dried blood streaking her skin.
“I do not understand you,” Maeve whispered. Whatever sleep Xartasia had allowed her wasn’t nearly enough. Her entire world was a haze of muffled pain. “You warn and pity me, but you will not help me! Why?”
“I do not wish to be cruel, but this must happen.”
“Why?” Maeve asked. “You have power in this church. Order my freedom and it will be done!”
“No,” Xartasia said. She shook her head sadly, making her thick black hair sway. “Please, Maeve. Stop fighting Gavriel. It will only hurt you and will come to nothing. You must give him the memories, the key to the Devourers. Do it for me, if you must. I would not see you suffer.”
“Then free me!”
“No. I love you, cousin. I love our people. It is for that love that I stand with Gavriel.”
Xartasia splayed her fingers over the back of the chair where the old Nihilist had sat, watching his Emberguard torture Maeve.
“I am not a good woman,” Maeve said. She sagged against the flaking steel post and her wings ached in protest. “But even I have no stomach for Gavriel’s plan. I will fight him to my final breath.”
“Gavriel failed to get what he wanted by drawing your blood. I warned him. You are stronger than Gavriel believes anyone can be.” Xartasia smiled self-depreciatingly. “Stronger than he believes I am. But tomorrow, he will break through even your memories of Logan Coldhand. Gavriel knows now what made you weak even to your hunter.”
“What?” Maeve asked.
She sat up, ignoring the agony in her ankle and wings. The pain seemed suddenly unimportant. Xartasia shook her head.
“I cannot prepare you, Maeve. I beg you this last time to give in. But if you will not relent to Gavriel, I must ensure that he succeeds.”
“Cousin!” Maeve cried. “What will he do?”
The angelic princess gave her a long, sad look.
“Have faith, Maeve. This is for the best.”
