THE REFORGED TRILOGY: BOOK 3 — HAMMER OF TIME
Chapter 32: Once & Never
“Life owes you nothing. It’s life. It’s already given you more than anyone else ever will.”
– Kessa Fethru (233 MA)
There wasn’t much to collect from Maeve’s tower. Her glass armor, some clothes and a couple of other personal effects, but she gathered them all up in a single trip and then made her way discreetly to the Blue Phoenix to join the rest of the expedition. The tower would belong to Duke Ferris now, if he wanted to use it. Dain and Verra were still there and were welcome to remain. The girls had asked to come along with Maeve, but didn’t put up much of a fight when she told them no. It would be a long and dangerous journey. Dain and Verra did not really want to go. They just didn’t want to abandon Maeve.
It was strange to be back in her own bunkroom. Alone. No one watching, no one trying to brush her hair or get her signature on a datadex. She had left detailed instructions for Duke Ferris, but Panna would be far more useful to him. She and Ballad should be back on Stray a day after the Blue Phoenix was scheduled to leave. Maeve felt a little guilty about being grateful for that. She didn’t want to face Panna or explain to the young anthropologist why she had to leave Kaellisem.
Maeve added a few favorite dresses to her old wardrobe, but left the rest empty. The bunk’s sheets were neat and clean and white. Someone had laundered them since Maeve left and she ran her fingers over the inexpensive cloth. Gripper, she guessed. There was no dust in her room, although Stray was covered in the stuff. That had probably been Gripper, too, or maybe Xia. Maeve just could not imagine Duaal cleaning rooms.
All of Maeve’s needles and narcohol bottles were gone, too. Had she done that herself? Maeve couldn’t remember. It seemed like a lifetime since she had stayed here on the Blue Phoenix. The little quarters should have felt cramped, she supposed. They were much smaller than any of the rooms in her glass tower and there was only the single scratched porthole window. It was pointed away from Kaellisem and looked out only across empty sand and desert. If Maeve pressed herself against the wall on the left side, she could just make out the edge of Gharib.
But the room didn’t feel small… Maeve changed into a pair of her old spacer’s pants and a backless shirt from her little closet. The flowing dresses and scarves that made up an Arcadian queen’s wardrobe were impractical on a starship full of moving parts and sharp metal edges. She tied her black hair up into a tail and inspected the results. Sloppy. Dain would have been aghast, but Maeve found that she didn’t mind. She pushed a few stray strands of black hair behind her ears as the door chimed.
“It is open,” Maeve answered. “Come in.”
Gripper ducked to poke his head inside. “The Blues are here to make their last delivery. I thought you might like to say hello.”
“Yes, thank you.”
Maeve turned away from the mirror and then followed Gripper through the Blue Phoenix. The hold was full of crates and piles of parts tangled up in orange cargo nets. Duaal and Logan placed a final pallet of boxes against the cargo bay’s rear wall. Both of the men were stripped to the waist and sweating in the Stray heat.
As promised, Vyron and Kessa were there. The Dailons stood beside Xia, who held Baliend with a smile curling her silver lips. The baby burbled at Xia and reached for her antennae.
Maeve stopped at the bottom of the stairs and took in the scene. It should have been a happy one. Just like old times, before Kaellisem and Xartasia. The Phoenix getting ready to fly away again, off into the black. Better than old times, in fact — Logan was helping them, working alongside Duaal instead of hunting Maeve across the galaxy, hounding their every step. But Maeve didn’t smile. Her blood ran cold through her body, freezing her to the spot.
This was not old times. This was no cargo run, just trying to get a load of apples from Koji to Axis before they rotted. Everything they did now was dreadfully important. Tiberius was gone. Xartasia and the Devourers were out there. Arcadians were dead and, if any of Maeve’s unpleasant guesses were right, many millions more lives would follow into the Nameless’ unwelcoming embrace.
Kessa looked up from her son’s face and ran to Maeve. She flung strong arms around the much smaller woman.
“Duaal says you’re going out to Nnyth space. Do you really think you’ll find out what Xartasia wants out there?” Kessa asked.
“I do not know,” Maeve said. “But we know where she is going, if not why. We will find Xartasia, one way or another.”
“You’re very brave.” Kessa told her. The Dailon mother kissed the top of Maeve’s head. “Thank you.”
Maeve couldn’t help the brief smile that crossed her face.
“What do we owe you for all of this?” she asked, gesturing to the crates and barrels. “They have not yet cut off access to what passes for the Kaellisem royal treasury.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Vyron answered. “You wouldn’t believe what Xyn and I are making off distributing the Arcadian glass. It’s a damned good thing, too. Xyn’s phenno redprint is starting to break down and we’re having trouble getting a viable batch. Without the glass, Unbreakers would be eating sand by now. I don’t suppose you can bring us a fresh genetic sample while you’re out at the Tower?”
Maeve blinked and wasn’t sure how to answer that. Kessa glared daggers at her husband, who just shrugged and held up his long-fingered blue hands.
“What?” he asked. “You can’t blame me for trying. I’m a businessman.”
Duaal leapt down from the now-secured tower of crates, Logan thumping more heavily to the deckplates behind him. The Hyzaari mage raked fingers through his dark, sweaty hair.
“Well, that about does it,” he announced. “Gripper, are all the new filters loaded?”
“All in, captain. We had a break in one of the central ducts, but I’ve got it all under control now.”
Duaal nodded to Maeve. “Your Majesty, we’re ready to go. Just say the word.”
She began to nod, but then looked around the hold. “Where is Sir Anthem?”
“Oh,” Duaal said nonchalantly. “I sent him into Gharib to get us a new duonetic converter.”
“What is that?” Maeve asked.
Duaal shrugged. “No idea. But it should keep Anthem busy for the rest of the day. He can barely say duonetic.”
“Because you made it up,” Xia said. She ruffled Baliend’s hair. “Anthem is still trying to learn Aver, Duaal. That was cruel.”
“Yeah, probably. So let’s get up into the black before he figures that out,” Duaal said.
He turned toward the stairs that led up to the rest of the Blue Phoenix. Maeve stood in his way and did not move.
“Not until you call Anthem and get him back to the ship,” she told Duaal. “And apologize!”
“Seriously?” the mage asked.
“No more games,” Maeve said. “Too many lives are at stake.”
At least Duaal had the grace to look chagrinned. He nodded and took out his com. He made his farewells to Kessa and Vyron, then vanished up in the direction of the Blue Phoenix’s cockpit. Xia reluctantly returned Baliend to his parents and escorted them from the ship. Maeve looked up at Gripper.
“Is there anything that I can do to help here?” she asked.
“Don’t think so, Glass. We’ve got everything pretty much ready to go.”
The young Arboran engineer looked and sounded quite certain. They were flying a long, long way into terrible danger, but Gripper showed no signs of sharing the fear that clenched Maeve’s stomach.
“It’s good to have you back, Glass,” he said. “I’m really sorry for how it happened, but it’s still good. Do you need anything?”
“No,” Maeve answered. “I still remember where everything is.”
“Make sure Silver closes up the lock when she gets back inside,” he called down.
Maeve promised that she would and Gripper reached up to the edge of the catwalk, then swung himself up onto the next level. She noted with regret that Logan had pulled his shirt back on, but he said nothing as Maeve and Xia waited at the airlock for Anthem.
The knight arrived from Gharib a half hour later. Anthem made no comment on Duaal’s deception, but secured himself along with the rest of the crew for takeoff. He sat awkwardly next to Maeve, leaning forward in a pointless attempt to make room for his wings. They ended up draped and twisted uncomfortably over the back of the seat, tangled with his queen’s.
Maeve braced herself for a rough takeoff, but Duaal piloted the Blue Phoenix smoothly up off of Stray and then out into the darkness beyond the planet’s atmosphere. After only a few minutes, thin clouds gave way to stars and then they lengthened into the multi-colored streaks of superluminal flight.
Duaal came back down into the combined mess and lounge. He had replaced his shirt, as well.
“And that’s it,” he said. “We’re on our way to the Rynn system. We don’t have an accurate travel estimate, but it will take us somewhere around twenty-eight days,” he said. “The charts out beyond Stray aren’t very precise and God knows the last time anyone bothered updating them. We’ll need to make some stops to check our bearing and make sure we’re not going to smash into some comet no one knows about.”
“What do we do now?” Anthem asked.
“Uh, mostly we wait,” Gripper answered. “We wait a long time and try not to go crazy wondering what’s going to happen when we finally reach the Tower.”
Their cold, tiny corner of the Hrana’s hold had cost Panna every cenmark of their remaining money. Not just the money Maeve had given them, but Panna’s own savings, too. The Hrana’s captain must have sensed their desperation and hurry. Ballad’s poker face wasn’t very good and Panna doubted hers was much better. The money didn’t matter anymore, but Panna couldn’t help glaring a bit at the dark-haired freighter captain as they climbed out of the Hrana and back into Stray’s familiar dry, dusty heat. At least the gravity was better than on Hadra. Ballad didn’t stick his thumb and finger out at the man and Panna was rather proud of the young knight. He was actually learning some restraint.
It was midafternoon in Kharnig and the fat, dim sun beat mercilessly down onto the craggy red-brown city. The heat was almost as bad as Hadra. Ballad jumped down from the airlock, balancing his small bag of belongings on his shoulder.
“He could have at least dropped us off in Gharib,” Ballad said. “We’re on the other side of Stray.”
“Not quite, but almost,” Panna said. She checked a datadex. The mainstream signal was weak, but it was there. She called up a map. “We’re only about seven hundred miles from Gharib, actually. We can probably get Captain Sinnay to pick us up.”
Panna put the datadex away in her satchel and then retrieved the com from her pocket. A sudden gust of wind whirled her hair and filled her mouth with sand. Ballad shot out a wing to shield her, but too late. Panna pushed her hair back into place and spat out muddy dust.
“Well, thanks anyway,” she told Ballad.
That was almost chivalrous and Panna thought it was kind of sweet. Which annoyed her. So Panna turned on her com and called Duaal, but there was no answer. She frowned.
“That’s strange,” Panna said. “Duaal always answers his com. You would think he was waiting for a boy to call him back, he’s always so eager.”
“Try Logan.”
“You do it. That man still scares me.”
“You’ve faced down Devourers and Xartasia’s butchers, Panna,” he said. “But you’re afraid of Logan Coldhand?”
“Hells yes. Please just call him?”
Ballad reached into his leather jacket for his com. His brow and the back of his sunburnt neck were already beaded with sweat. “As you command, my lady.”
Panna blushed. Ballad smirked and chose Logan’s name from a list on the display. The channel chirped several times, but no one answered. Now Ballad frowned, too. Panna tried Xia next, but still no answer. Not even Anthem picked up. Panna considered calling Duke Ferris, but though the old fairy carried a com — Maeve had insisted on it and Ferris reluctantly agreed — he had no idea how to use the coreworld device.
Instead, she called Kessa Fethru. The channel toned and Panna was about to close it when someone finally picked up.
“Hello?” came Kessa’s voice.
The Dailon sounded harried and tired. Even more than usual. Panna knew Baliend could be a handful, but this was strange.
“Kessa, it’s Panna,” she said. “Uh… Is everything alright? I can’t get ahold of anyone.”
“Panna?” Kessa asked. There was noise in the background that didn’t sound like Baliend crying. “Oh, thank God! Finally… Where the hells have you been? The Hadrian fairies have been here for a week!”
“We had trouble finding a ship on Hadra that was coming back here. Where’s Captain Sinnay? Ballad and I are in Kharnig and we need a lift to Kaellisem.”
There was a long pause.
“The Blue Phoenix is gone,” Kessa said at last. “Maeve and the rest are on their way to the Nnyth Tower.”
Ballad listened over Panna’s shoulder.
“What?” he asked.
“You didn’t know?” Kessa asked. “They went there on information you brought.”
“Maeve left?” Panna repeated. “She’s gone? Then who’s running Kaellisem?”
“You and Duke Ferris, according to Maeve,” Kessa said. “You’d better get here now. He needs your help.”
“With what?” Panna asked.
“If we don’t get the water distribution under control, there are going to be more riots.”
“Riots?” Panna repeated. “What’s going on in Kaellisem? Wait, tell me when I get there. Can Xyn or Vyron send a ship to Kharnig? Tell Duke Ferris I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Have you ever dealt with the Nnyth?” Xia asked. “Either of you?”
Anthem shook his head.
“No,” he answered. “Our contact with the Nnyth was always handled by the royal family and the Ivory Spire. Even then, it was infrequent.”
Everyone looked at Maeve. She held up her hands. “I was a long way from the throne and important royal matters. I trained as a knight because I needed a profession. I am sure Titania dealt with them. But not me.”
“What about when you collected the phenno?” Gripper asked. “That was a couple of years before I got here. Did you talk to the wasps then?”
“We only encountered one Nnyth on that trip,” Duaal answered. “And we… fought. Maeve tried to talk then, but it didn’t seem to go very well.”
“No,” Maeve agreed. “Even at the height of the White Kingdom, the Arcadians did not travel often to the Tower.”
“Do you think Xartasia has an invitation?” Logan asked. “If the Nnyth are that secluded and dangerous, what is she risking?”
“Perhaps very little,” Anthem said. The knight spoke slowly, as though reluctant. “Titania was the king’s daughter. I know that she had visited the Tower at least twice before the fall.”
“And you never went with her?” Duaal asked him. “Weren’t you two pretty much engaged?”
“We had traded our oathsongs,” Anthem said. “But no… I never accompanied Titania.”
Maeve rubbed her temple and reached for a bowl in the middle of the table. Her fingers brushed the edge, but she couldn’t quite manage to reach. Gripper pushed it closer. Maeve thanked him, refilled her plate and then stared down at the limp pile of lettuce and apples. Why had she taken more? She wasn’t even hungry.
When dinner was over — no one had much more appetite than Maeve — Gripper collected all of the dishes and set to work cleaning them. One by one, they all left the mess in silence.
Maeve went back to her room and sat on the edge of her bunk, wondering what she was going to do once they reached the Tower. It had seemed like such a good idea back in Kaellisem, leaving her city and her angry people on a quest of redemption. Finding Xartasia and stopping her… That was the whole point of this, after all. It had been from the beginning.
Not for the first time, Maeve’s gut knotted with guilt. Everything she had done really was a gamble against Xartasia. It wasn’t about helping or restoring hope to the Arcadians. Maeve was using them, just like her cousin.
Am I any better than Xartasia at all? I manipulated my own people just to fight her… And I do not even know why!
But how could Maeve turn back now…? Her friends and her people had all sacrificed too much to give up. Arcadians were dead. Anthem had sided against his own enarri. Maeve had given up her own beloved hunter. It had to be for something. Didn’t it?
Maeve covered her face with her hands and prayed to the gods for the strength to make it through the next four weeks.
Logan had leaned a roll of packing mats against one corner of the Blue Phoenix hold. He threw a short, fast flurry of low punches at the cylinder of rough fabric. He stepped back, looking down at his mismatched hands. The cool, sterile recycled ship air stung across his abraded knuckles. Logan had tape, of course. No self-respecting boxer went anywhere without it. Gloves, too, that protected the all too delicate skin and bones. Xia probably had something helpful in the medbay, too.
But his glass left hand remained stubbornly unblemished by its punishment. Logan slammed his right hand into the mats again. It left a smear of red.
“Ballad told me once that you shared a teacher,” Anthem said from behind him.
Logan turned to look at the fairy knight. “After a fashion. Jocasta — Ballad’s teacher — and I both studied at Vorus’ palaestrum. We all learned lowland boxing. Other styles, too, but lowland is Vorus’ specialty.”
“Ballad has spoken well of Arctan Vorus.”
Anthem stepped around a pile of crates. He wasn’t wearing his armor. In fact, the fairy barely wore anything at all — just a nearly sheer skirt tied around his narrow hips. Logan wiped the back of his bloody hand on his pants. It was virtually impossible not to feel like a dirty peasant in the prince consort’s graceful presence. Logan was painfully aware of how much better a match Anthem Calloren was for Maeve.
“Really?” Logan asked. “I was under the impression Arcadians didn’t think much of boxers.”
“We are not well built for it,” Anthem admitted. He flexed his white wings. “We lack the physical power of the coreworld species. Ballad, however, seems to make it work.”
“It’s not all about strength.”
Anthem nodded. “It is not. At least, not strength of arms. There is a resilience of spirit and passion that makes Ballad an excellent knight.”
“He’s a good hawk. What do you want, Anthem?” Logan asked.
Anthem blinked his deep, dark blue eyes slowly and waited a long moment before answering. He held out his hands. They were large and long-fingered for an Arcadian, but much smaller than Logan’s mismatched ones.
“I have enemies enough in Kaellisem and in the woman I once loved more than life,” Anthem said. “I do not wish you as another one, Logan. You are a good man and a skilled warrior. I know what Duke Ferris thinks of you, but I do not share that opinion. You have conducted yourself with honor and a… sort of grace. I would prefer to be friends–”
Logan’s jaw clenched.
“–but if we cannot, then we should at least not be enemies.”
“What do you want from me?” Logan asked. “I haven’t gotten in your way, Anthem. Not with your knights, and not with Maeve. I’ve kept my distance. Out of respect for her, not you. There’s no hawk to hood here. There’s nothing that needs to change.”
The handsome fairy’s brow furrowed, but not deeply. He didn’t look upset at Logan’s words, just… confused.
“Things will change,” Anthem said. “And when they do, know that my hands are extended in friendship.”
Logan looked down again at Sir Anthem’s outstretched hands. He had made something of a study of Arcadian traditions and this was not one of them. Logan raised an eyebrow at the smaller man.
“Just one hand,” he said after a moment. “You only shake with one. Two hands looks like you’re begging.”
Anthem nodded and pulled back his left hand, leaving the right out to Logan. The Prian hunter turned back to the rolls of mats.
“Unless you want to spar a match against me,” Logan said, “go away. Go take care of Maeve. She’s been having a hard time.”
“You noticed.”
It wasn’t a question.
“Yes. I noticed,” Logan said. He punched at the makeshift bag. “There are no knights on the Blue Phoenix for you to order around, Anthem. You only have one other job. Maeve is hurting. Go to her.”
Anthem’s shadow didn’t move for several minutes, but Logan kept his back resolutely turned and worked the rolled-up mat until blood ran down his right arm. Finally, the slender winged shadow retreated and left Logan alone.
