THE REFORGED TRILOGY: BOOK 2 — SWORD OF DREAMS
Chapter 32: Calling
“Even the shortest life lived in the pursuit of duty has not been lived in vain.”
– Marus Heradone, Prian police officer (193 PA)
A peal of thunder rocked the truck and Panna shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She should have gone in there with Coldhand. But she was frightened of whatever was inside. Panna had read every account of Maeve’s encounter with the cult on Stray. There weren’t very many stories, just enough to convince Panna that Gavriel and his followers were dangerous. But that knowledge was thin armor against her guilt.
Something outside brought Panna’s attention up from her unpleasant reflection. The truck was parked on the muddy slope beside the road, with a view over the Pylos valley. A flock of white-winged shapes flew out from the dingy Arcadian quarter. There had to be a hundred fairies. They rose up together, wheeled toward the mountains and then vanished into the swirling gray clouds.
“What’s that?” Panna asked.
Xia looked out the side window. “What’s what?”
“The Arcadians,” Panna said. “There’s a crowd of them flying up into the hills.”
“Maybe their quarter is flooding in this rain,” Xia suggested.
“That doesn’t matter right now.” Duaal shook his com in frustration. “Damn it, get me off hold! I need to talk to Cerro!”
“There’s a call coming in for you, captain,” Felsus shouted. The young officer limped over on his cybernetic foot and leaned into the door of his superior’s office. “Duaal Sinnay. He says he works for Tiberius Myles.”
Cerro picked up a com handset.
“I’m here,” he said. “What’s on the wind, Duaal?”
He heard the slap of rain against glass wherever Duaal was, and then a peal of thunder. A second later, the sound boomed through the police station, making everything on Cerro’s desk rattle and the channel hiss with static.
“Say again, Duaal,” Cerro said into the com. “I can’t hear you.”
“We found the Cult of Nihil!”
Cerro’s grip tightened on the handset. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. We’re outside a converted storage slab. 2808 Tristail Road. Do you know it?”
It was on the map taped to the back wall of Cerro’s office, outside the third district and on the northern corner of the second.
“I see it. Does anyone inside know you’re there?” Cerro asked.
Duaal hesitated on the other end of the line. Cerro grabbed his coat from the back of his chair and swept out of his office, whistling to Felsus.
“Collect everyone off the roster and get them down to the cars,” Cerro ordered. Thunder made the station shudder again. “I want Talons and hawks, but keep them clipped for now. We don’t have confirmation yet and we’re not shooting a bunch of civilians. Duaal, are you still there?”
“I’m here,” the boy said. “The Nihilists might know we’re here. Coldhand went in after Maeve.”
“Who? Can you recall your hawk?”
“I don’t think so,” Duaal said. “He’s inside. Even if I can get him to pick up, I don’t… I don’t think he’s listening.”
Cerro grimaced and it tugged painfully at his scarred cheek. It was pointless to waste time wishing for things he couldn’t have. No one could change what had already happened. Seven other cops gathered around Felsus as he hastily updated them on the Nihilist situation.
“I’ll put in the call to Station Two,” Cerro told Duaal. “Where is Captain Myles now?”
“He’s still up at the dig site. Kemmer made him stay.”
“That’s the job he agreed to do,” Cerro said. “Hold tight, Duaal. We’ll be there in ten.”
“Logan said to come in… cold?”
“He did?” Cerro asked.
“He used to be a cop, too. What does it mean?”
“It means a quick and quiet landing. Sensitive situation,” Cerro said. “Alright, we will.”
Felsus held up a clipboard and limped over to his boss. “We’ve got thirty officers on call tonight. How many should I bring in?”
“All of them,” Cerro answered grimly. “If half of what Tiberius says about these people is true, we’re going to need them. And get on the wire with Station Two.”
“Yes, sir!”
Maeve had no idea how long she stood there with her arms around Logan Coldhand and her lips against his.
This couldn’t possibly be real. There was no way that Logan was here on Prianus. Here where Gavriel had her tortured. Logan tasted like rainwater and he stood as still as a statue in her arms… but not stopping her, not pushing her away. Returning her kiss.
My hunter. My hunter is here!
He was real. There was a man lying on the floor nearby, in the thin beam of a flashlight. It was Hallax, with a smoking hole burned through his chest. The wall of her one-time cell was gone and the hallway was scored all along its length by laser burns and nanosword slices. Hallax’s iridescent blade lay in a muddy puddle.
“What are you doing here?” Maeve asked at last.
Logan didn’t immediately answer her. By necessity, the question had ended their kiss, but Maeve hadn’t removed her arms. Logan stared down at her with unreadable ice-blue eyes.
“I had to find you,” he told her. “You’re hurt. We have to go. Xia is outside. She can take care of you.”
Maeve blinked. “You came with… with Xia?”
“I had to find you,” Logan said again. It seemed very important to him. “I was looking for the Nihilists in Pylos and I found them in the mountains. But you were gone.”
The mountains… The Waygate!
“We must find Gavriel!” Maeve said.
“Hallax was the only one here. The whole building is empty,” said the hunter. He shook his head and then stepped back, detangling himself from Maeve. “Duaal’s calling the police, but there’s no one here.”
“Gavriel is going to the Waygate!” Maeve told him. “He knows of the Devourers and of the Pylos Waygate.”
Logan scooped up his fallen flashlight. “That makes sense. Why fly all the way to Arcadia when they’ve got a Waygate right here? How long ago did they leave?”
“I… I do not know,” Maeve admitted. “I was in the pit. I did not realize that they had left at all until I climbed out.”
Rage rippled across the bounty hunter’s face and his eyes raked over her, taking in her injuries, her torn and bloody clothes. Logan shoved the Talon back into its holster and grabbed a battered com from his pocket. He checked the display and shook his head.
“No access,” he said. “We have to get outside.”
They ran back down the stairs together, Maeve leaning heavily on Logan. When they finally emerged from the slab, she slitted her eyes nearly shut. Even the diffused light sifting through the roiling storm clouds was blinding after so long in the dark.
When Maeve could see again, she found a pair of battered old trucks parked on the far side of the busy mountain street. A wide-eyed Gripper scrambled out of one car and dashed across the road. Before she could say a word, he was there, enfolding Maeve in a huge, wet hug. Gripper picked her up and spun the wounded fairy in an overjoyed circle.
“Maeve! You’re alive!” he cried. “We were so worried about you!”
She was shocked to hear her given name from Gripper’s mouth, but far more pleased to see her friend. Maeve hugged him as tightly as she could while rain poured down on them, soaking her ruined clothes and slicking her hair against the back of her neck.
“It is good to see you again,” Maeve gasped. “I did not think that I would ever leave that place…”
Duaal, Xia and Panna emerged from the second truck, quickly crossed the street and the Ixthian shooed Gripper back.
“Maeve’s injured. Let me have a look,” she said. “How long ago was your last dose of White? Do you know how much it was?”
“A few hours, I think. I do not know the precise dose. Where is Tiberius?” Maeve asked. “But there is no time!”
Duaal looked up at Logan, who remained at Maeve’s side as Xia began a cursory examination of her wounds.
“What happened in there?” Duaal asked. “What’s going on?”
“There’s no one inside,” Logan said. “The Cult of Nihil is gone. They’re on their way to the Waygate.”
A big green van with patched tires pulled over and stopped next to the leaning storage slab. Another parked down the road. Maeve saw several others making their way quickly out of the valley, swerving around other slower vehicles. Police officers poured out of each one, forming up surprisingly quietly in the shadow of another leaning apartment slab.
When they saw Duaal and the others gathered on the rampway, they moved as one to close the distance. Maeve recognized Captain Cerro in the lead. He wore a pauldron and there was a dark brown falcon with its talons sunk deep into the leather. Cerro crouched down. His often-mended blue uniform was dark with rain.
“Princess Cavainna,” he said, dipping his head at Maeve. “Glad to see you’re alive. What’s going on here?”
“There’s no one left inside,” Logan reported almost automatically. “There was one Emberguard left behind, but everyone else has moved out.”
Cerro looked at the bounty hunter, frowning.
“I know your face,” he said contemplatively. “Who are you?”
“He’s a… a friend,” Gripper told Cerro quickly.
The police captain’s scarred jaw worked for a moment, but then he nodded. He gestured to another officer. “Take a team and sweep inside. Eyes only. We’ll collect evidence later.”
The other Prian nodded and hurried off, calling out her own orders. Cerro returned his attention to Maeve and her friends. He thrust his jaw out at the apartment slab overhead.
“You said the Nihilists are gone. Are you sure?” he asked.
“Yes. And we need to reach the Waygate before they do,” Maeve said. She winced as Xia squeezed gently up the length of her right wing. “We must fly now!”
“What?” Cerro asked, shaking his head. “What Waygate?”
Duaal’s dark face went the color of wet ash. “But… but Tiberius is up there!”
“You mean Doc Kemmer’s dig,” Cerro said.
The officer he had sent in to check the building came back out, holding up a closed fist to her captain, waved it once and raised one finger. Cerro nodded.
“No one alive inside. One dead,” he reported.
Maeve glanced sidelong at Logan. He met her eyes for only a second, then dropped his gaze as though ashamed. Or something else… But there was no time to wonder. Cerro was shouting to his teams, getting them loaded back up into their van.
“We’re gone in three!” he called out. “North Tristail to Verigorn and up into the mountains. Follow the lead and keep up! I want weapons and birds ready to fly. Move!”
“What about us?” Duaal asked. “I’ve got to call Tiberius!”
“Do that,” Cerro said, nodding. “Then go back to the station and wait there.”
“What?” Duaal cried. “Not a chance! We’re going with you.”
“You’re civilians. You stay in Pylos.”
Maeve pushed Xia out of her way and then straightened with a groan. “Duaal is right, Captain Cerro. We would not leave Tiberius to fight on his own.”
“You’re in no shape to fight at all,” Xia pointed out.
“I will survive or I will not,” Maeve said. “If Gavriel reaches the Waygate, none of us have long to live!”
“No,” Cerro repeated firmly.
Logan looked at Maeve again, then to the police captain.
“There is unanswered blood between us and the Cult of Nihil,” the bounty hunter said. “Honor calls us to face them.”
His words had a measured, oddly ritual sound. Cerro ran the tip of one finger down the deep scar across his cheek as he considered. Finally, he sighed.
“If you’re coming, you come with us,” he said. “But you follow orders!”
Xia looked at Maeve. “I’ll give you some blockers on the way. They’ll help some.”
“Thank you, Xia,” she answered sincerely.
Logan hesitantly offered Maeve his right hand and helped her limp toward the truck. Duaal shook as he called Tiberius while Xia and Gripper turned back to their vehicles. Cerro whistled sharply to them.
“You’re going with us,” he reminded them. “We’re going to need to move fast to have any hope of catching up with these Nihilists. Felsus, make some room. Alert all officers of our new destination and tell them that we’re going in hot.”
“Wait!”
Maeve looked over to Panna, who had called out. The blonde woman ran back through the rain and reached into the back of one of the trucks. When she returned, she carried a spear with a long glass blade.
Maeve stared. “My… my spear!”
“If you’re flying after the Cult of Nihil,” Panna said, holding out the weapon, “I thought you may want this… Your Highness.”
Maeve took the spear and inspected the new shaft. It was expert — if unfinished — work. The blade was lashed in place with strands of red thread. Maeve stared.
“Why would you do this?” she asked.
“I…” Panna couldn’t seem to find the words.
“She’s Arcadian,” Logan said.
The world spun wildly around Maeve. She opened and closed her mouth silently, unable to find the words. Yes, she could see it now, in Panna’s cheekbones and slight frame. An Arcadian. A wingless Arcadian! Finally, Maeve took one of Panna’s cold, wet hands and touched it lightly against her chest.
“Thank you for the repair and return of my spear,” she said at last. “We must fly to work, but if we survive the day, I would like to know how all of this came to be.”
“Yes, Highness,” Panna answered.
