Sword of Dreams (The Reforged Trilogy) (43 page)

"Years," Duaal answered confidently. "The entire place was rotten and falling apart."

"Then we're looking at one of these areas," Tiberius said. He pointed to five different grayed-out areas and frowned. "Probably. The apartments might have been condemned more recently, or just not inspected yet. It can take years for someone to get out there and write up a demolition order."

"And in the meantime, no one's keeping people from living there?" Panna asked, aghast. "That's dangerous!"

"Welcome to Prianus," Logan commented darkly. "Anything else, Duaal? What color was the dirt? Brown might indicate something closer to the center of the valley. Gray could have washed down from the mountains. It has more stone and less organic matter."

Duaal thought and shook his head. "I couldn't see the color. There wasn't enough light."

"Any fixtures? Architecture that might suggest the building's age?" Logan asked.

"It was all pretty basic, really, and ugly. There's a post in the middle of the room that Maeve's handcuffed to." Duaal's green eyes widened. "Wait, the post was metal! Steel, I think. It was corroded. Does that help?"

"It might," said Tiberius. "Steel is expensive."

"Especially around here. There are no useful mines anywhere in the Kayton Mountains," Logan added. He paused in his pacing and drummed his metal fingers on the edge of the table. "You're not going to find a lot of steel used in apartments. And a post in the middle of a room?"

Tiberius arched a bushy gray eyebrow. "It's probably a converted warehouse or something like that."

Gripper looked down at the map. "This doesn't use any of the standard notations!" he said in frustration. "I… I think this red tag means that the buildings were repurposed."

"How many are there?" asked Xia.

Gripper's lips moved as he counted. "Um… five hundred seventy-two."

Tiberius grunted. "We've got to narrow that down."

"Well, you said that it was turned from something else into apartments," Duaal said. He looked over Gripper's arm at the map. "Look, there are notes on some of these about the sort of conversion the builders made. This one isn't what we want – it was a housing block that got turned into a… What is this?"

"A falconry," Logan told him shortly. "So we can focus our search on those buildings converted into apartments."

"That's about half," Gripper said when he had checked the numbers. "Still more than two hundred places."

"If Gavriel's trying to be quiet about his presence here – and we have every indication that he is – he would use one of those condemned buildings," Xia said thoughtfully. "He can't move into an occupied one without someone noticing. These ruins might have some vagrants, but that's less likely to get serious attention."

Gripper nodded and shifted his weight from one big foot to the other as he studied the datadex. "Great, that brings us down to about eighty. Most of them are in this block, along the river."

They all looked at Duaal. He pursed his dark lips. "No, I didn't hear or see any water. Everything was in bad shape, but it was dry."

"So not near the river. What does that leave us?" Panna asked Gripper.

"Fifty-nine buildings."

"Gavriel said something about a pit," Duaal said. He sounded uncertain. "There was an image in his mind, just for a second."

"Did you see enough to help us?" Tiberius asked.

"Maybe. It's a huge fissure in the ground." The Hyzaari mage gestured to the mountain surrounding them. "A lot like this, I guess, but smaller. Gavriel throws problems down there. But I got the impression that it was downstairs."

"So? Lots of buildings have basements, Shimmer," Gripper said.

"But there is dirt coming in through the broken wall on another level, where Maeve's being held," Logan interjected. "That means the whole building was either built against a slope or that it's fallen against one."

"That's got to put her somewhere along the valley's edge," Tiberius said, loud and excited. "Anandrou?"

"Um… looking." Gripper's hands shook as he traced the lines of the map. "Fourteen buildings."

"Most of those are here, along the north-western edge of the valley," Panna said. "We can find her in that, can't we?"

"Yes." Logan checked his Talon. The charge was at about half. "Gripper, you're with me. Pull off a copy of that map and let's go."

"Yeah." Gripper slotted some memory chips from his pocket into the computer and copied the map.

"Once we find out exactly where they're holding Maeve, we'll call Cerro," said Tiberius. This close to finding Maeve, he no longer argued with the bounty hunter over authority. Tiberius whistled. Orphia, who had been circling the ravine, spiraled down to her master. "We are going to need his help. Xia, we need you, too. Our dove is injured."

Duaal and Panna waited expectantly. When it became clear that Tiberius was giving no further instructions, Panna cleared her throat. "I'm coming, too," she said.

"I could use the extra pair of hands," Xia agreed.

Panna nodded and ran back to her tent to collect her things. When she returned, she began collecting the pieces of Maeve's spear from the table. "I can finish this on the way. She'll want it, I think."

"What about me?" Duaal asked.

Tiberius stopped in the act of handing the spear shaft to Panna. "We're going up against Gavriel and his cult, little hawk. I want you to stay here."

Duaal's face fell, but he nodded. "Fine."

Tiberius held up his hand. "No, Duaal. I
want
you to stay, but we need you to go."

"You do?"

Tiberius nodded slowly. Even Logan could see the reluctance in the old Prian's face. "We have to be quick and not spend a lot of time flapping around where the Nihilists might see us," Tiberius said. "You are the only one who can recognize the right place on sight."

"I… I'm going?" Duaal asked, mouth agape and eyes wide. He shook his head as though trying to shake off a dream. "You need me?"

Tiberius nodded.

Kemmer was working nearby and looked up from his microscope. "Wait a damned minute! You can't leave us alone up here again!" he objected. "The north-west side of the valley, right? That's where you think this Cult of Nihil is?"

"That's the idea," Tiberius said in a tone that invited no argument. "And we're getting Maeve back from them."

Kemmer didn't care if he had an invitation or not. "No! That's just down the mountain from here, Captain Myles! You can't just leave when we're that close to men that you yourself have said are dangerous! They took Maeve from her post, not five hundred feet away. They know we're here!"

"But they don't care," Logan pointed out.

"You don't know that, bounty hunter!" Kemmer snapped. "You drop out of the sky uninvited and think that you know anything about what's going on here? I don't know who you are and I don't care! But I
do
have an agreement with Captain Myles."

Now Tiberius frowned. Orphia hopped down from his shoulder and chewed on the corner of the table.

"What are you getting at, Kemmer?" Tiberius said.

"You gave me your word that you would protect our dig, Captain Myles. You took payment and you promised to keep the Waygate safe."

"I did." Tiberius closed his eyes and whistled softly at Orphia. The old hawk stopped nibbling and sidled up his arm to perch on his shoulder again. Tiberius opened his eyes again. "Yes, I did promise that."

"Kemmer, this is about a lot more than just getting Maeve back," Duaal protested. "I know what Gavriel is trying to get from her. He wants Maeve's memories of Tamlin and the Devourers."

"What? Why?" Panna asked curiously.

"To summon them," said Duaal. "He's going to use the Devourers to wipe out everything in the galaxy."

Tiberius looked at Kemmer, then at the mage. "You have to find the place, Duaal. Find it and call Cerro. We're not going to let Gavriel hurt Maeve anymore and we're sure as hells not letting him get to the Devourers. Got it?"

"Got it, captain," Duaal said.

Tiberius nodded. "I'll stay here. I told Kemmer that I'd keep his damned Waygate safe, and I will. You go get Maeve back and stop Gavriel."

Logan had never seen Duaal smile so hugely. "Let's get moving, then!" the mage said.

They made their way through the camp and then up the long ladder, out to the moraine. Rain sliced through the blanket of snow and ran in tiny, frigid rivers down the slope. Duaal pointed up to the Raptor.

"Are you going to bring that?" he asked.

Logan had considered the same question on the climb up. "No. Tiberius is right. We don't want the Nihilists to know we're coming and they're going to notice a fighter buzzing their area."

"Just the trucks, then."

Logan hurried down to the trucks and yanked open the nearest door. His blood ran hot and somehow itchy through his veins. He was impatient to be off, to find Maeve. To see her again at last…

Duaal, Xia and Panna filled the other truck but Gripper climbed in beside Logan, datadex in hand. The two traded a look and then Logan twisted the keychip in the ignition.

"Being brave only means that you don't tell anyone how scared you are."

- Phillip Arno, Cyran geologist (233 PA)

Maeve sang to herself. The air in this place was stale and smelled of dirt. She wanted to fly, but her wings would not work. Maeve was sure that she knew why, but the memory kept slipping out of reach, like grasping at waves on the beach. No matter how she chased them, her own thoughts slid away again.

But the song was constant. No, Maeve realized sluggishly. It rose and fell and washed cold across the dirty floor. The voice was not hers, and neither was the song.

Gavriel,
she remembered painstakingly.
He wants something from me.

He was singing a spell. Maeve shook her head, trying to clear away the white fog. There was something important that she was supposed to do. Or not do… Yes, that was it! She must not give Gavriel the memories he wanted. With a groan and tremendous heave, Maeve lurched and pulled against her handcuffs again. Her wings ached and a razor sting raced up her arms. It was agony, but the pain helped clear Maeve's mind.

Gavriel stopped singing. A striped arm reached from the shadows and pushed Maeve back against the steel beam. Hallax was gentle – careful not to bash her skull and its valuable contents against the pitted steel – but firm. He peeled open an alcohol-soaked pad with his teeth and scrubbed a section of Maeve's arm free of blood and grime.

"She's resistant to this stuff," the Emberguard said. He sounded almost cheerful.

"Is she ready for more?" Gavriel asked. He sat in his dusty, brittle old throne, staring down at Maeve.

Hallax pressed two fingers up under Maeve's jaw and then peered into her eyes. "Yes, Lord Gavriel."

"Give it to her, then."

"No!" Maeve protested as loudly as she could, but her voice was no more than a phlegmy whisper.

She had to fight, had to stop them… But Hallax slid another needle into her skin. Maeve writhed, but another pair of hands emerged from the darkness, these gloved in pale, soft doeskin.

"Please, do not struggle, cousin," Xartasia said softly. "No more. You have shown your bravery."

Gavriel gave the older princess a stern look. Something malicious glittered in his deep-set eyes. "As we agreed."

Xartasia met his eye and her sharp jaw set. "You have given her enough White to drown any resistance," she protested.

"Clearly, we have not," said Gavriel. "She hasn't given up the memories."

A sigh sang through the warm, empty blankness. Maeve distantly felt her cousin's slender fingers tighten on her arm.
Traitor, traitor,
she reminded herself, but the Vanora White was taking hold again. The dirty room dissolved into clouds of pure white. The Nihilists' voice echoed as though they stood inside a crystal cathedral.

"You owe this to our people," Xartasia told her. "To me. You destroyed the White Kingdom, Maeve. You killed them all. My father, my mother and brothers. My
enarri
, my Anthem…!"

"No…" Maeve whimpered. The glittering alabaster dancing all around her stilled and began to fall away into a bottomless abyss. "No! You… you said it was not my fault. That it was the Devourers…!"

"The fault
is
yours, little cousin," Xartasia said mournfully. "Ours worlds are dead for your sin. The last of our people die in disease and famine. This is of your doing."

Her fingers were icy claws as they curled into Maeve's flesh. Blood welled up around the wounds and ran down her skin, molten and burning. Rivers of blood… Not Maeve's blood, but the blood of the millions upon millions that she had killed. The dryads and nyads, all dead…!

Blood filled the room, rising up around Maeve's legs and then her chest, up to her shoulders. She screamed in helpless horror as the flood of sticky red clung around Maeve's throat. She twisted and shrieked, but she could not move and the rivers of blood would not stop.