Inheritors of Chaos

by Barbara Ann Wright

  As before, when they’d returned from the swamp, people poured from Gale to welcome them home. Cordelia let herself relax slightly. The city wasn’t flooded or covered in giant bugs or anything; no one appeared to be in the process of dying. Private Jacobs, who’d been invaluable to Simon while Cordelia was off fighting drushka, pushed through the crowd, scattering the well-wishers.

  “Captain Ross,” Jacobs said, snapping off a salute. “You and the doc should come to the keep. You have a visitor. It’s a…” Her eyes shifted to the drushka.

  Cordelia suppressed a groan. Fucking wonderful; one of the old drushka had come calling. And there was never just one lurking around. “I’ll send a message to Pool, and—”

  “No, Cap!” Jacobs coughed and lowered her voice. “She asked me not to let that happen.”

  Cordelia frowned, wondering which drushka wouldn’t want to speak to a queen, but that was an answer in itself. Another queen wouldn’t want Pool to know she was here, and only one queen came without a tree taller than the keep.

  Cordelia found Simon and bent to whisper in his ear. “I think Shiv is here. She doesn’t want her mom to know.”

  Simon’s mouth compressed into a thin line. After he had a quiet word with Horace, Simon and Cordelia hurried through the crowd to the Paladin Keep. Cordelia spread the word as she went for all paladins to fall in and get their gear together for a trek back to the mine.

  Problem seven—eight, if she counted guarding the Storm Lord’s brood—if Shiv didn’t want Pool to know she’d come back, it wasn’t a social visit. For over a week, Shiv had been with the old drushka as a kind of ambassador, so someone besides Pool would know the old drushka and their ways. Cordelia hoped the old drushka weren’t pissed and massing for an attack. Of course, if they were, maybe Cordelia could figure out a way to throw them in Naos’s path.

  She snorted a laugh.

  “What’s funny?” Simon asked.

  “Life and its myriad fucking problems.”

  He sighed. “After living so long, I shouldn’t get surprised, but it happens all the time.” He stared ahead. “I hope she’s all right.”

  The thought that Shiv might be injured made her shoulders clench. But why wouldn’t Shiv want Pool to know? Maybe she intended to seek revenge on her own? Then why ask for Cordelia? Both she and Pool would want to kick ass for Shiv’s sake. As Pool had often said, if someone became a friend or enemy of one drushka, they could count all drushka the same.

  The Paladin Keep jutted from Gale’s western side like a spear, a shard made of wood, metal, plastic, and stone, materials from Calamity and from the original colonists’ landing pods. Cordelia had thought it a thing of beauty, a testament to the strength of her ancestors. They used everything they had; they adapted and fought and tamed the land for their own. She still felt a tremor of that pride, but it was for everything her people had overcome since the Storm Lord had come in person, bringing all the shit politics of her ancestors from far-flung Earth.

  And it reminded her that there was a great heap of metal and plastic now sitting in the mountains to the north, and all that stood in their way of claiming it was a mad goddess. Easy.

  Jacobs directed Cordelia to the captain’s office. “She only got here this morning, but she’s pretty upset,” Jacobs said. “She found me, said I smelled the most like you, Doc.” She frowned, but it had a bit of humor in it. “I didn’t know what to say, but she didn’t give me much chance, babbling about how she had to see you, Cap, and how her mother couldn’t know. I hid her. She’s probably ready to bust out of that room.”

  “Thanks, Private, we’ll take it from here,” Cordelia said.

  After another crisp salute and a nod of gratitude from Simon, Jacobs hurried down the stairs. When Cordelia opened her office door, Shiv launched herself forward, and Cordelia barely caught her. She wanted to whirl the kid around, always pleased by her exuberant greetings, but Shiv clung to her, breathing hard. Her skin seemed waxy, the whorls standing out like cracks. She’d been letting her green hair grow since Cordelia had first met her, and now it hung limply around her head, and her bright green eyes sported a dull film.

  “Sa,” Shiv croaked, her voice brittle.

  Cordelia’s scalp tingled: Simon’s power covering them both. Cordelia’s aches and pains eased, and she felt as if she’d just donned her armor rather than having worn it for days. Shiv took a deep, shuddering breath, and her color improved. She licked her lips and buried her face in Cordelia’s chest, smacking dully against the armor.

  “What’s wrong, Shiv?” Cordelia asked.

  “You did not bring him.” She took a step back. “I thought you would.”

  “Who?”

  “Lyshus!” The word was practically a scream. “I did not ask Jacobs because I did not want Shi’a’na to know, but I thought you would realize my need, Sa!” She took a step back, her eyes going hard. “Have you become a fool in my absence?”

  Cordelia wanted to fire back, but she was savvy enough to know something fucked up was going on. This wasn’t just a teenage temper tantrum. Drushka grew up quicker than humans, but Shiv was a queen and only fifteen. She’d live a long time, so maybe she stayed a child longer than others, but this sudden shift to anger was far beyond normal.

  “Shiv,” Cordelia said, holding out a hand. “It’s all right.”

  “It will never be all right again! If you had brought him, I could have taken him and been away.” She muttered a few words in drushkan. “Go, and do not return without him.”

  Simon’s eyebrows shot up. “What the hell happened to you in the swamp?”

  Shiv held her chin up, but soon after, her mouth turned down in sorrow, and she dropped onto the rug as if all the strength had left her. Drushka didn’t weep, but she was still the picture of sadness as she curled into a fetal position, crying Lyshus’s name over and over.

  Cordelia looked to Simon and mouthed, “Pool.” He nodded. No matter what Shiv wanted, Cordelia was out of her depth here. Simon’s eyes went half-lidded.

  “No!” Shiv leaped up, teeth bared, leading with her claws.

  Cordelia jerked Simon out of the way, nearly flinging him across the office. He tripped over a chair and crashed to the floor. Shiv banged against the wall and pushed off as if she was made of rubber. Cordelia caught her wrists, not bothering to tell her to calm down. Her eyes were wide, crazed, her mouth open in a snarl, sharp teeth snapping at Cordelia, at everything. Cordelia tried to swing her around, to grab her from behind, but Shiv bucked and grunted, screaming. Footsteps and shouts came from the hall outside.

  “Stand down!” Cordelia cried, fighting to be heard. The last thing she wanted was some frightened paladin, fresh with memories of the swamp, to bust in here and shoot Shiv before they could figure out what the fuck was going on.

  Simon’s power rolled across the room, and Shiv went limp so fast, Cordelia dropped her. She breathed a sigh of relief as silence descended.

  “I’m all right; everything’s all right,” Cordelia called, breathing hard. “When Pool, the drushkan queen arrives, send her up.”

  Murmurs of acknowledgment came through the door. Cordelia looked to Simon. He shook his head and righted the chair he’d tripped over. “If she’s sick, I don’t know with what.” He tapped his head. “I told Pool we need a shawness.”

  Cordelia nodded and hoped Nettle came, too. When Nettle followed Pool through the door, Cordelia put an arm around her, happier just to be breathing the same air. With Nettle, Reach, and Pool in the room, Cordelia laid Shiv on the desk and moved the other furniture into the antechamber to give everyone room.

  “She attacked us,” Cordelia said.

  Pool held up a hand. “Better I see for myself, Sa.”

  Cordelia didn’t know what she meant until Pool reached out her hands. Drushkan telepathy, right. And Pool clearly wanted to see the memories from Simon’s and Cordelia’s perspectives. Cordelia sat on the floor, and Nettle cradled her body even though she was still wearing the damn
armor.

  “I’m heavy,” Cordelia said.

  Nettle’s narrow lips brushed her forehead. “Never, Sa.”

  Cordelia breathed a laugh, but it had more nerves behind it than humor. She wasn’t afraid of the touch of Pool’s mind—well, not much—but she was worried for Shiv, so she eased out of her body as quickly as she could and heard Pool’s voice in her mind.

  “Show me.”

  Cordelia relived the scene for Pool, sensing it as Simon did the same. As a drushkan queen, Pool could divide her attention among many people at a time, always connected to each member of her tribe, all but one: Lyshus.

  She sensed Pool’s irritation. “This is because of that child.”

  The memory transfer done, Cordelia floated back into her body and sat up. There was no need to tell the story to any of the drushka now. Unless Pool barred them from those memories, they’d all know. Nettle helped Cordelia stand and looked at Shiv with worry on her narrow face. Reach rubbed Simon’s shoulders.

  “I am glad you were not hurt, shawness.”

  “Me, too,” he said. “Is she sick, Pool?”

  “Something to do with Lyshus, her tribe of one,” Pool said. “I had hoped the old drushka would help her, that they would have some wisdom, but it appears that being apart from him has weakened her, altered her. He has not been well, either. His parents call him depressed. But this…” She smoothed the hair from her daughter’s forehead. “Perhaps she will feel better when she is with him and her sapling. I will bring her to the tree.”

  She carried Shiv herself, and as soon as they were among the soil outside the keep, Pool’s roots broke through the ground and carried the two of them away through the ground. Cordelia opened her mouth to say she wanted to go with them, but she kept the words back. Maybe this was something the drushka had to do alone.

  “Do not worry, Sa,” Nettle said. “I will tell you what occurs.”

  “Even if it’s a secret?”

  Nettle frowned. Keeping secrets was almost like lying, and no drushka liked that. But Pool had told a few lies in her life, had kept more than a few secrets even from her tribe. If she didn’t want something to get out, it didn’t. “I would not lie.”

  “I know,” Cordelia said, kissing her temple.

  Reach followed Pool, so Shiv was in good hands. Shiv had once been afraid that her mother would kill Lyshus for developing the green hair of a drushkan queen. And from what Cordelia had heard, his powers extended beyond those of even a normal queen. Queens bonded to one tree at a time, that tree serving as the focal point for their tribe. From what Nettle had told her, Lyshus might have the power to communicate with other queens’ trees, which sounded not only rude but forbidden.

  Cordelia exchanged another worried look with Simon. Pool abhorred the thought of harming a child, but if Lyshus was hurting Shiv, killing her…

  Maybe Shiv was right, and she and the boy should run off and be a tribe alone together if that was the only way they could survive and not give other drushka the creeps. But then what would happen when there was only one of them left?

  * * *

  Shiv drifted among an endless green sea. She was home, back in the swamp where she belonged, but this time, she was not surrounded by the scent and feel of strange drushka with their old-fashioned ideas and twists of braids that hid their faces. She was not pummeled with eager questions or touched by curious, unwanted hands. She did not have to fend off the thoughts of queens who wished to commune with her and were confused when she denied them.

  Better than that, better than the comforting presence of Shi’a’na, her mother, she could feel her sapling and Lyshus, her tribe of one. When she had first felt the sickness, she thought she simply missed him, that the feeling would fade, but the longer she went, the farther she got from him, the more it felt as if she had not taken a sip of water in days. But no water could soothe her, and no meat could tempt her. She knew a truth she had only guessed at before: she would die without him.

  It had not been long since they had seen each other. Not yet one of the human weeks, but it was too much time. He would be suffering, too, and that had finally convinced her to run. The old drushka had chased her, wanting to know what had gone wrong, wanting her to return, promising that whatever had happened could be cured; all ills could be corrected. She did not listen, and they did not catch her, and in the end, they ceased trying to keep up.

  When Sa had not brought Lyshus, something in Shiv had gone dark. She remembered her actions as though she had seen them at the bottom of a pond. Dimly, she felt shame, but that could not override the need. Now, he was here in her lap, his young mind intertwining with hers like a vine, and she knew peace.

  “Daughter?” Shi’a’na’s voice. She did not pry, had long ago ceased trying to force her way in. As a queen, Shiv could stop her, but Shi’a’na only hovered. “Tell me, daughter, how can I fix you?”

  Shiv felt the healing songs of the shawnessi comforting her, but she had no need of them, not with Lyshus so near. She sent that thought to Shi’a’na and felt a jolt of frustration. The shawnessi wanted to aid her, maybe break the link with Lyshus. That did not upset her. She had once wished for the same thing. Even if it hurt, she would suffer if it would free him, make him more like other drushka, but if it would not work, that was fine. So, they were not like other drushka. When had she been, after all? They were their own truth.

  Her mother felt around the problem while Shiv relaxed in the song. Lyshus relaxed, too, asleep and dreaming, his mind quiet now that it was with hers, but he had suffered. She could feel his slight body; he had lost weight when he should be gaining. When they had been together, he had grown faster than a normal drushkan child, but that was simply a new truth, too.

  “Can you make him a tree, Shi’a’na?” Shiv thought. Then they could run off to the swamp where they would bother no one. And they would be content with their trees and with each other. And when they died, the drushka could come claim the trees, or maybe the trees would die with them, the four of them in the same grave.

  Her mother recoiled. The trees were eternal, no matter what. The life of each drushka was important, but the trees were paramount.

  Shiv did not care; she was with Lyshus, and they would never part again.

  “I…do not know, daughter.”

  But Shiv could tell this meant more than one thing. Her mother had always been better at hiding her true self than any other drushka. She might not know how to make another tree, might have made Shiv’s by accident, or she might not wish to make another.

  Even that did not anger Shiv as it should have. Since Lyshus could touch the trees of other queens, she would share hers with him. She knew that idea should have repelled her, but she felt nothing but happiness.

  “That is the song of the shawnessi,” Shi’a’na said. “When you awaken, you will feel differently.”

  The song stopped, and Shiv’s eyes opened. She enfolded Lyshus in her arms as he murmured against her chest. The anger and desperation of the past few days faded, and Shiv felt herself again.

  Mostly. Her mother had been right. Without the song, the worry came back.

  Shiv did not know how she would share her tree. It had never been done. But someone like her, the child of a queen’s body, was not supposed to exist. And when she had fed Lyshus her blood after his birth, everyone thought it would not be a bonding, that she was simply sustaining him as the blood of her mother’s blood. They had done no other ritual, but he was as bonded to her as any tribesman was to Pool. And taking her blood had made him a queen. That had to be why queens were not allowed to have children of their own bodies: the thing that made them a queen carried on. Among the old drushka, queens were born only when another queen died, a great call going through the whole. They were born with the green hair, with powers, from parents who had never been queens themselves. And then their line died with them, but Shiv, Lyshus, this…

  Shi’a’na helped her sit up, not touching Lyshus, afraid of a link between
him and her tree.

  But there already was one. Shiv felt despair wrap her again, and even the idea of living alone with Lyshus in the swamp could not chase it away.

  “We will solve it, daughter,” Shi’a’na said. The shawnessi retreated, all but Reach who knelt by Shiv’s side among the soft green of her mother’s inner branches.

  Shi’a’na folded her long legs beneath her. Her green hair cascaded around her much like the hair of the old queens, and though her mother was shorter than all but the second and third queens, she loomed over Shiv, over most drushka and humans. When she was younger, Shiv had thought her mother the most beautiful thing that existed, and then she had resented her mother as the power that kept Shiv from doing all that she wanted. Now she saw the fear in her mother, knew one day that her splendid mother would die, and the love she felt for Shiv, that carried through all her mother’s drushka, would also die. The humans Shiv knew would be dead then, too, and no one but Lyshus would be left to love her.

  Shiv could feel her mother’s thoughts winging through the branches, but she could not hear them, not unless Shi’a’na let her in. Some were no doubt everyday thoughts, making sure her people and her tree had all they needed, but some were closer, flowing to Reach, and outward, to Simon Lazlo.

  “What are you saying?” Shiv asked, fear and loneliness pulling tight around her.

  “Seeking a solution,” her mother said.

  “It seems simple enough,” Reach said, spreading her hands. “Shiv and the child must remain together. So, if the child cannot go among the old drushka, Shiv must remain here.”

  Shiv caught her mother’s frown. She did not want Lyshus near her, but she had kept him while Shiv went to see the old people. She could warm to the idea.

  “I thought being apart from you might weaken his power,” Shi’a’na said, responding to Shiv’s agitation. “And it seemed to be so, but now I see that was because you were both weakened. Perhaps we should try to separate you again, only with both of you tended by a shawness.”