The Reforged Trilogy: Book 1 — Crucible of Stars
Chapter 32
Paid
“Freedom isn’t only about the things we can do, but those things we must do.”
– Lyran proverb
“Titania was right,” Caith said. “You played your part in the destruction of the White Kingdom, but you cannot claim responsibility for it all.”
Maeve’s brother smiled gently at her to soften his words. They sat together in the west garden of the Blooming House, surrounded by delicate pink roses. Maeve couldn’t smell them in the dream, but bees striped in gold and black hummed their way between the blooms, harvesting pollen with gentle precision. In the fall, the dryads would have gathered the rich amber honey to make mead for the Snowmelt Festival. There was no sweeter drink in all the worlds.
“The fault was mine, too,” dream-Caith said. He draped a soft white wing around Maeve’s shoulder. “Opening the Waygate was my duty and I abandoned that. We both made mistakes… but they do not make us monsters.”
Caith was fading like the silvery morning mist. Maeve reached for him, but her fingers closed on nothing.
“Caith… I miss you,” she said. “Please, do not go…!”
“Sister, I am already gone.”
Maeve wept.
There were two shadows leaning over her. Maeve tried to speak, but there was something in her throat — a ribbed tube. The silhouettes glared at one another across her bed and the room seethed with violent potential.
“She’ll live,” said the one on the right. “But it was close.”
The larger shadow nodded. “You got her out of that place alive. It couldn’t have been easy. You could have died, too. Why did you help her?”
“She was my mark.”
The shadows were quiet for a long time. The tube in her throat pushed scrubbed air into Maeve’s lungs and needles pumped liquefied nutrients through her veins. One of the dark, faceless shape spoke again in a voice thick with barely restrained rage.
“If I ever see you again, there’s going to be blood, traitor. Saving Maeve once will never make up for everything you’ve done.”
Coldhand’s shadow said nothing.
The oxygen pump hissed and fed sterile air into Maeve’s lungs. The plastic bags hanging beside her bed gurgled quietly as they emptied their dissolved contents into her blood.
Do not go, she wanted to say. But Maeve’s eyelids were so heavy. She fell back into uneasy sleep and let the machines live for her.
“I was ready to die at the Tamlin Waygate,” Maeve said. “I wanted only to die beside you, my enarri.”
Maeve’s eyes were dry now, but the sandy feeling behind her eyelids told her that they hadn’t been that way for long.
“But then it… worked. I closed the Tamin Waygate and the Devourers vanished from our worlds,” she said. “But by then, it was too late. You were dead. My brother was dead and our people were gone. Our kingdom was gone.”
The grass had disappeared. Maeve and Orthain stood atop one of the tall crystal spires overlooking the city, a mosaic of ivory and silver that glittered in Aes’ bright light. The citadel — the hereditary seat of Cavain’s line and the heart of the entire White Kingdom — burned with blinding golden radiance in the distance. Maeve slitted her eyes against the brilliant glare. Something was wrong… There was a dark stain in the heart of the city, like a bruise upon the perfectly wrought glass of her home.
And it was spreading.
“Princess Titania was right, enarri,” Orthain told Maeve. “We still do not understand how the Devourers came to our world, not truly. You know that the Waygates lead only one way. Nothing should have been able to come through the gate. What happened was a terrible mistake, but a mistake only.”
Maeve leaned against the cool, unyielding glass of Orthain’s armor. “I should not have opened the Waygate.”
“No,” Orthain agreed. “But you did not create the monsters that came through, and you did not command them to destroy our worlds. All of this, all of the death and smoke… It was not your doing.”
“I love you, Orthain.”
“And I love you, Maeve. But I am not the only one.”
Gripper’s voice was the first thing Maeve heard when she finally drifted up out of the darkness.
“Smoke? Smoke? She’s awake! How’re you feeling?” he asked.
The huge young Arboran leaned over her, blotting out the light. His left ear no longer matched the one on the right and the shortened tip was still a shiny, healing pink.
“Your ear…” Maeve rasped.
Gripper struck a comically dramatic pose. “Yeah, I could have gotten it cloned, but I think it makes me look rakish.”
Maeve lay in a bed of rough white linens, her wings wedged in awkwardly under her. Flexible plastic needles were taped into her forearms and connected by tubes to hanging bags labeled in Aver. Maeve’s entire body was stiff and sore, swathed in thick bandages under a blue hospital gown.
More shapes crowded around her bed to join Gripper. Tiberius was scowling, as usual, but there was joy and relief in his eyes. Xia smiled at Maeve, nodding approvingly as though simply waking up was some kind of major accomplishment.
Maybe it was.
Kessa waved from the foot of Maeve’s hospital bed and Baliend burbled happily while Vyron leaned on her shoulder. Even Duaal seemed happy to see Maeve awake.
“What… what happened?” she asked. Maeve’s voice was quiet and rough from disuse. She coughed painfully. “How long have I been asleep? Where are we? I recall little after Logan carried me from beneath the graveyard.”
“You’re at Kharnig Unified Faith Hospital,” Tiberius answered. “Racking up another medical bill for us.”
There was something strained in the old Prian’s voice at that, but Gripper interrupted.
“When Coldhand brought you out, there were all these Nihilists chasing you both!” the Arboran said with an excited sweep of his arms. Duaal ducked just in time to avoid being hit. “We couldn’t convince the Gharib police to help without CWAAF backup, so we crashed the Blue Phoenix right into the cathedral and smashed it all down on top of them.”
“Didn’t work quite as well as I’d hoped,” Tiberius grumbled.
“It busted the ship up pretty bad,” Gripper agreed. “Shimmer and I went out to fix it while the Nihilists were trying to cut open the ventral airlock. But then we… we couldn’t make the repairs and I thought we were all dead.”
“How…?” Maeve asked with fragile curiosity.
“It was Kessa’s doing,” Xia said. “And yours. At least, it will be.”
Maeve shook her head in confusion and quickly regretted it. The whole world swam for several seconds before coming back into focus. When Maeve could open her eyes once more, Tiberius had crossed his arms over his chest.
“It’s your bounty,” Tiberius said. “The Gharib police are desperate for money and they came running when Kessa told them about the price on your head.”
Maeve frowned. “Then… why am I in a hospital instead of an Alliance prison?”
“Well, it’s a private bounty,” Kessa said, clearing her throat. “Not an Alliance one. And they can’t collect it if you’re locked up in jail.”
“Why not?” Maeve asked.
“Because you posted it,” Kessa answered. “You put the bounty on yourself.”
“What? No,” Maeve protested, but her mouth was dry.
“You know how to post a bounty,” Kessa said, bouncing Baliend in her arms. “You created the one for Vyron and paid Coldhand when he delivered. You threw the money on the ground like it was nothing, like you’re used to having plenty. Maybe you could pass that off as part of being a princess, but then Coldhand asked you something about… about genocide after the Emberguard attack.”
“There hasn’t been a genocide committed in hundreds of years,” Vyron said. He put his arms around Kessa and stroked his son’s hair. “Not since the old religious wars. Something like that would have made the news all across the core. So whatever you did, it must have been back in the White Kingdom, at least a century ago. That’s ancient history for most of us, but not for you.”
“I… I…” Maeve stammered, but she could think of nothing else to say.
“There wasn’t much to figure out after that,” Kessa said. “We all know the fairy kingdom fell apart, even if we don’t quite understand why, and most everyone died. And you’re always so angry, so guilty… Guilty enough to put a bounty on your own head.”
Maeve sagged back into the white sheets and closed her eyes, but that didn’t stop the hot tears from spilling down her cheeks. She nodded.
“Yes. I created the bounty, summoned my executioner to punish me for bringing the Devourers to the White Kingdom.”
“You?” Xia asked. “In your story… you were that knight? But you swore you’d kill her!”
“And that is precisely what I hired the bounty hunters to do,” Maeve said.
“You did this? You brought Coldhand down on yourself and on my crew with that damned bounty?” Tiberius asked. “God, I hoped Kessa was just being a twit!”
“I wanted to die,” Maeve answered. She opened her eyes to look at her captain. “More than anything. I did not care what it cost. I… I am sorry.”
“Damn it, Maeve,” Tiberius growled, but he didn’t seem to have the heart to argue further.
Vyron shook his head. “I know what you went through for my son and my mate. I know there’s more to you than just an elaborate death wish. So… thank you. I don’t think I’ve gotten to say that yet.”
“Where did you get the money?” Gripper asked. “I mean, Claws doesn’t pay us that much.”
Maeve swallowed against a hard weight in her throat. “I brought it from my home. When I closed the Tamlin Waygate, I was alone in the White Kingdom. The Devourers were all gone, but so were my people.”
“Why didn’t you just… stay?” Gripper asked.
“How could I remain in the home I had destroyed? The world I loved was lost and the Waygates are a one-way journey. The gates used for the evacuation were still open. I had a day before the spells that held them collapsed. I could not stay, but I gathered clothes and a few precious items that had escaped the Devourers’ destruction. It was not much, not compared to the riches of Arcadia, but it was enough to sell off and offer a bounty for my life.”
One of the instruments monitoring her beeped a warning at Maeve’s rising blood pressure.
“A bounty that I will pay to the Gharib police,” Maeve managed to whisper. “As agreed. What happened to the Church of Nihil?”
“Well, the police showed up and dealt with the ones that were overrunning the Phoenix,” Tiberius answered after a moment of uncomfortable silence. “Brought a medic to take care of you, then held the place until CWAAF arrived. The Alliance wasn’t too happy about the Nihilists’ graveyard, so they rounded up everyone still trapped in the tunnels.”
“They raided all of the other Nihilist churches,” Gripper said. “But most of them were already empty. Someone warned them that the Alliance was coming.”
“The Church of Nihil seems to have left Stray, near as CWAAF can tell,” Xia told Maeve.
“Gavriel and Xartasia? What was their fate?” she asked.
“Gone,” Duaal answered. There were deep, dark circles under the young human’s eyes.
“Allied forces excavated the Gharib cave-in and found plenty dead,” Xia said. “None of them were Gavriel or your cousin.”
Coldhand must have informed them of the blood Maeve shared with Xartasia.
“The Nihilists are still out there, then,” Maeve said.
“That’s not our problem,” Tiberius told her firmly. “Those bastards are gone from Stray and it’s safe for Kessa’s family now. We did our job.”
“They didn’t find Gavriel or Xartasia,” Xia said. “Or even that altar. It was all gone. But they did find this.”
The Ixthian picked up something carefully from a table beside Maeve’s bed and held it out to her. It was a glass blade the length of her hand with a broken piece of wood jutting from the base, wound all around by the torn, burnt remains of once-colorful ribbons.
Xia handed Maeve the blade of her spear. The princess sat up slowly in the hospital bed, wincing as the tubes in her arms tugged, and took it gently. She twined her fingers through the ruined ribbons and laid it in her lap.
A spear was the weapon of an Arcadian knight. It was meant to be wielded in defense of innocents and the cause of justice. But what had Maeve done with it? How much shameful blood had this blade spilled over the century since her fall? In Maeve’s hands, it had become a weapon of despair and disgrace.
Titania… Xartasia had fallen to the soul-broken hopelessness that ruined Maeve. It drove her to join the Nihilists in their zealous search for death. How many had suffered and died for the pain of two women?
“Where…” Maeve struggled to find her voice. “Where is Logan? He had best be ready to fight me when I can leave this bed.”
“That’s one part I never did figure out,” said Kessa. “If you want to die so badly, why hire a hunter to do it? Why didn’t you just kill yourself? Or at least post a dead-only bounty? You could have died years ago.”
Maeve covered her face with her hands, tangling her collection of tubes and sensors.
“My brother was in Tamlin when I opened the Waygate,” she said. “He was among the first to fly for the gate when it… when it all went so wrong. He was trying to close the Waygate when the Devourers killed him. Trying to fix my mistake. And my Orthain… he died protecting me from those monsters. The men I loved best fought too hard for me to give up my life easily.”
“You were making them earn it,” Duaal finished slowly. “The hunters… and you. Because you thought you deserved the pain.”
“Logan was not the first to hunt me,” Maeve said. “But he came closer than anyone else. Where is my hunter?”
“Coldhand’s gone,” Tiberius answered. “He left three days ago. He said the mark had been caught and the hunt is finished.”
“Then it is over,” Maeve said. She closed her eyes and wondered if she would ever be done crying.
Repairs to the Raptor had been expensive and now he needed to find work. On the second level of Axis, Logan Coldhand sat at his rented computer terminal, keying through bounties. They flashed up onto the screen in rapid sequence, one after another as he dismissed each listing with a glance.
Some were worth more than Maeve. Two or three might even be more dangerous than the princess. But none of them were half as interesting.
Logan brought up another list, reading through and then forgetting each of the bounties. Maeve was a skilled warrior, trained as a knight for longer than Logan had been alive. From what Xia told him about the White Kingdom’s destruction by the Devourers, most of the other knights died defending the remaining Arcadian people. How many had managed to escape? Maeve may well have been the only knight of Arcadia left in the universe. Fighting her had been a challenge that he would not likely find again…
Not outside Gavriel’s Emberguard, at least.
Maeve was cunning, too. Logan had to admire how cleverly she crafted her own bounty and how deftly she had manipulated him. The Central World Alliance might have posted a bounty for the crimes she had committed, but there were millions of killers across the worlds.
No, that would never have been enough to catch the attention of an infamous hunter. She needed the genocide charge for that.
Logan wasn’t sure that Maeve was actually guilty of that crime, but it had certainly been an imposing accusation. Only the most dedicated or fearless bounty hunters would ever try to take in a mark with that kind of record. That way, Maeve was sure to attract a deadly tool with which to commit her elaborate suicide.
Even the rewards listed on her bounty were cleverly planned. She offered enough money to entice, but not so much that greed would tempt the desperate into a dangerous hunt. Was she trying to protect the weak bounty hunters from a job too difficult for their limited skills? Or just making sure she didn’t end up confronted by an inept hunter? Maeve wanted someone who understood what they were getting into and who was prepared for a fight.
And Maeve wanted a fight… That was why she posted the live bounty. Yet the lesser but still considerable sum offered upon death meant that even Logan had been willing to kill her in the end.
He remembered the pain in Maeve’s silver eyes as she confessed what she had done to Xartasia. The guilt, the loss. Maeve wanted to suffer, but then she wanted to die.
But Maeve threw it all away to fly off after Vyron’s stolen son. A moment of impulsive passion had unraveled what had to be years of work toward her own end. There was only one thing left in all the worlds that she wanted, but she saved Baliend instead. Logan felt the mechanical beat of his computerized heart and knew he could never entirely understand Maeve Cavainna.
Logan keyed up more bounties. She had been a perfect mystery: eloquent and unfathomable, full of strange contradictions, terrible, deadly skill and inhuman patience. There would never be another mark like Maeve.
She was gone and Logan almost managed to convince himself that he didn’t care.
Almost.
