by S. G. Basu
“Some sort of signal? But to whom?” Maia wondered as well. Around them, the waters were as thick as jelly. Chylomyhrra kept going, driving forward with ease, drawing closer to the mouth of the fissure.
An ear-splitting bellow made Maia’s heart drop to the pit of her stomach the moment they shot out of the mouth of the crevice and into the Zsitanian Abyss. Just like Maia had feared, the Timiti was lying in wait for them at the side of the exit. It pounced on Chylomyhrra with the joy of the impending plunder. The milk squid reared, fell back a little, and dived, its body still steadily flashing—red, clear, and orange—over and over again. As the whale turned and rushed at the squid once more, Chylomyhrra headed toward the bottom of the abyss, its form as straight as an arrow. But the creature was no match for the gigantic whale, which hurled itself forcefully on the squid.
Maia screamed. Her hold had loosened and she scrambled to get a grip. Next to her, Ren was struggling to hold on to Chylomyhrra’s arms as the squid tried to evade the Timiti. Far below them, at a distance that now seemed unreachable, the lighted entrance of the Karnilian Caves beckoned. For a fleeting moment, Maia felt like they would be able to make it past the gigantic creature. Just then, the Timiti swished its enormous tail, creating a vortex of water that spun Chylomyhrra around. Maia barely had any strength left in her arms, but she clung on with all her might. While Ren tried to steady Chylomyhrra, the whale placed itself below them, blocking the path to the caves with its enormous girth. Chylomyhrra froze, well understanding that there was no escaping into the caves.
For a moment, there was quiet. Then the Timiti tore through the dark waters. Maia braced for impact as the Timiti charged. There was no place to hide, the whale was simply too large to avoid. It came with the intent to crush everything in its path. Chylomyhrra shot upward at breakneck speed, Maia and Ren dangling from her tentacles.
It happened right about when Maia had given up hope. The mass of waters above them blinked bright red, paused briefly before flashing orange. And then again. And again. It was as if the whole abyss was responding to Chylomyhrra’s call for help. A deep grunt came from below them; the Timiti had seen the colors and it did not sound happy. Maia looked up again—the wall of colors seemed to move. It was heading in their direction like a humongous, lighted wave. The wave surged, sweeping downward as Chylomyhrra rushed to meet it. She reached it before the Timiti could crash into them. Then she shot through the blinking wall and into the soothing darkness beyond it.
“Did you see that?” Ren gasped, and turned around to look what they had passed through. “It was a wall of squids.”
Thousands of squids blocked the Timiti with their blinding presence. They were packed so densely together that they looked like one solid barricade. They flashed in unison as they impinged on the whale. From under the flashing mass came a terrified bellow. Chylomyhrra turned around and swam downward again. Below them, the squids continued to flash, sinking deeper into the abyss with the whale, far beyond the mouth of the Karnilian Caves. Chylomyhrra swam slowly, down to the mouth of the cave, and turned when she reached the entrance. Then she twisted herself through the gates and swam into the dive bay of the Karnilian Caves.
55: Winning and Losing
Maia and Ren jumped off Chylomyhrra, and after a few appreciative pats on the squid’s bulbous head, they bounded in the direction of the Converter Galley. They stopped the instant they rushed in through the door. The unconscious body of Gus, the cheery gray-haired keeper of the Karnilian Caves, lay sprawled on the floor.
“He’s alive, just unconscious,” Ren declared, kneeling to check the man’s pulse. Together they pulled him aside. “What’s going on here?”
“Hans . . . hope he’s all right,” Maia said, remembering Dani’s anxious face.
“Help,” someone shouted from the direction of the Converter Galley. It was Kusha’s breathless voice.
Maia and Ren rushed forward, taking a brief moment to get out of their diving gear and draw their weapons. They had been at the Converter Galley during the Karnilian Challenge, so they reached it easily. The Converter Galley was always a scene to behold, but on this day, Maia spent little time admiring the installations. Her attention was quickly drawn to the hanging walkways that created an intricate mesh right below the ceiling. It was on one of these suspended walkways that Kusha, Hans, and another boy with flaxen hair were fighting a fierce battle against five masked foes. They were all dressed like the men Maia and her friends had fought at the Stabilator room on Xif. They wore long black cloaks, masks covered their faces, and each flailed long whips ominously. The Order of the Fyrstell! Maia’s heart skipped a beat as she recognized the men’s garb. But what are they doing here? Trying to destroy the Jjordic power installations? As Maia and Ren rushed forward to help, Kusha shouted.
“Check the sage’s chambers! They went that way.”
“They?” Maia asked.
“Just go,” Hans yelled, struggling to avoid a particularly vicious flick of the whip. He jabbed a long pole at the man he was fighting and yelled again. “Go, now.”
Maia and Ren sprinted toward the sage’s chamber.
A loud thud followed by an agonizing scream flooded the area as the duo ran down the stairs leading to the sage’s courtyard. It was Kusha’s voice, Maia was sure. She stopped in her tracks, frozen with fear at the thought of Kusha in so much pain. Ren came to halt as well.
In the heart-stopping moment that followed, a vision of Kusha lying hurt and wounded flashed before Maia’s eyes. There was remarkable clarity in the thoughts that swept through her mind—her nightmare of many nights ago was coming true: Kusha had been called to lead, he had walked into war, and now he was hurt.
“Ren, go back and check on Kusha,” Maia commanded.
“But you . . . you can’t go in there alone,” Ren argued, even as he threw a concerned look over his shoulders in the direction of Kusha’s scream.
“You don’t understand, Ren,” Maia said breathlessly, her voice unflinching. “I had dreamed of Kusha being hurt and wounded, needing help. He is hurt, I know. Go help him. I’ll be fine.”
Ren hesitated one more time, then turned around and headed up the stairs. Maia stood there for a moment, listening to the sound of Ren’s footsteps fading into the distance, hoping and praying that nothing terrible had happened to Kusha. Then she grabbed Bellator’s hilt as tightly as possible, and ran across the courtyard and into the sage’s room.
There was no one in sight, but the room was in disarray. Things were scattered on the floor, furniture overturned and ripped apart . . . it felt as if a storm had passed through not too long ago. A door stood open in one corner of the room. In the dim light that seeped past the doorway, Maia could see a flight of stairs winding downward. A groan that came from the other corner of the room startled her. The shock only paralyzed Maia for an instant, and then she strode toward the sound, pulling and pushing through the debris. She gasped in terror when she lifted the corner of a thick rug that lay over what seemed like an unconscious man.
It was the sage—he was buried underneath the heavy matting that Maia struggled to pull away. His eyes were closed and body limp, his head cradled between his thin arms. Blood was streaming down his face from a gaping wound on his forehead. Slowly he turned his head and opened his eyes.
“Maia . . .” he whispered, recognizing her as she heaved to move away the pile on top of his frail form, his voice breaking. “Maia. Stop. It’s no use, child.”
He was right, Maia knew that. It was just too heavy—the rug, the stout wooden pedestal that was tipped over the rug and was partly covering the sage’s legs—it was almost impossible to move. Maia wondered what could have possibly made anyone hurt an old man, and hurt him in such a vicious way. She inhaled deeply; she was not going to give up, and she would keep trying until help came. The sage groaned again.
“Maia, listen to me.” The urgency in his voice made Maia stop and crouch closer to him. “You have to leave me here . . . and . . . go down tho
se stairs . . . your fate depends on it . . . our fate depends on it . . . go child . . . go . . . help Gibbon . . . and . . .”
His voice faded and his eyes closed. A thousand questions remained unspoken in Maia’s mind. She stood up on shaky legs, her eyes blurry and hands trembling. Beneath the pile of junk, the sage’s breathing slowed as Maia stepped away toward the staircase.
Maia hurtled down the worn brick steps, Bellator in hand, barely thinking what might meet her at the end of her descent. She did not allow herself a moment to ponder. She could not risk letting fear in, she did not have time to lose either. Another door stood ajar at the end of the staircase. Maia braced herself, then flung the door open and hurried inside.
It was strange how brightly lit this room was, given how dull everything else was in the caves. A light, white and gleaming, flooded every corner. A large table stood at the center. On the side farthest away from the door where Maia stood was a huge pool of water. Maia assumed it served as the room’s private dive bay. A black Aqumob was anchored to one side of that bay, and Amanii, the red-haired Xifarian girl, tugged a large transparent box that floated in the water next to the craft. Inside that container, a fidgety old snub-nosed dolphin bobbed up and down, his unseeing eyes wide with fear, pecking violently at walls that restrained him.
Maia recognized Gibbon. This was Bikele’s room, she realized with a start.
“Gibbon!” Maia screamed. “Where’s Bikele?” she yelled at Amanii.
“Hurry up, Amanii,” someone shouted from inside the anchored Aqumob. The voice sounded familiar, and Maia wondered if Miir was in the craft. Amanii stirred—she let go of the container’s handle, pulled out her sword, and faced Maia.
“Where are you taking Gibbon?” Maia shouted as she deflected Amanii’s first strike. She did not get a reply, only a sharp swipe of her opponent’s sword zipping through the air, not too far away from her face. Maia met strike with strike, parry with parry, never giving in for a moment. She was scratched, bruised, and bleeding by the time she had Amanii in a corner.
“Did you hurt Bikele?” Maia asked, gasping for breath, pressing Bellator against the blade of Amanii’s sword.
“This girl asks far too many questions,” a voice seethed from behind her. The bitterness that seeped out of every word was like venom and held the room in an icy-cold grip. Maia stepped away from Amanii and turned around.
Remii, the older son of the Xifarian chancellor and Miir’s elder brother, was leaning casually at the large table at the center of the room. Miir stood next to him; the black sword Maia remembered so well shone darkly in his hand. The container that held Gibbon a prisoner had now disappeared, likely inside the Aqumob.
As Maia debated her next move, Remii raised his hand, and Maia knew he was about to use telekinetics. Space crumbled all around her. Maia did not have time to react, the telekinetic wave was so fast, and she was not used to it anymore. The TEK wave spread like a ripple of currents, breaking into three as it approached. One hit her hand and sent Bellator flying; another hit her in the chest and knocked the air out of her lungs. Maia did not know what else that TEK wave had done, but her knees buckled below her as she reeled from the pain in her lungs and throat. Remii was almost as powerful a TEKist as his brother, Miir, Maia admitted grudgingly as she gasped for breath. For a moment, Maia wished she could do more than simply see the TEK waves, that she could create them and use them to fight.
“Get Amanii inside, Miir,” Remii instructed. “I will take care of this worthless piece of filth.”
Black boots strode up to where Maia was crouched. With every bit of strength she had left in her, Maia dragged herself backward as Remii walked closer. She rolled away as he sent another wave in the form of spears in her direction, narrowly avoiding the deluge that landed on the floor in front of her.
Maia scampered toward where Bellator had landed, diving as she felt the surging heat of a TEK wave behind her. She found a small table to crouch under barely in time. Above her, the table shook and buckled as the wave hit it. She had to get out from under there fast, Maia realized, or he would pin her under it like he had done to the sage. Maia flung herself toward Bellator, grabbed its hilt, and rose to her feet. Remii looked amused as Maia took a shaky stance at the corner of the room. A smile as bitter and cold as his voice spread across his lips.
“You are indeed as feisty as I had heard,” Remii said, lips twisting into a sneer. “It’s your bad luck that our paths crossed today.”
He raised his hand again, and a mountain of boulders formed in the space between them. They hovered in the air before shooting out in Maia’s direction. There was no space to duck or sidestep the wall that rushed at her, threatening to smash her. Maia did the only thing that she could think of doing at that moment; she took a deep breath and raised Bellator to meet the wave head-on.
What happened next was a blur. All Maia could remember was charging at the center of the formation with Bellator. Piercing each curve in space, twirling and twisting her sword, she slashed through the wall, creating a path for her to pass through. The boulders came apart in fragments, the pieces flying past her and some scraping her painfully in the face, arms, and legs. The parts of the formation that went past untouched by Bellator, hit the wall behind Maia, creating a scorched impression on it. Remii stared at her with glazed eyes, his face twitching with fury as he stood with fists clenched. As some of the fragments flew back violently in his direction, he raised his hand again, possibly to build a shield, but he was not fast enough. He tumbled and fell as they hit him, groaning and clawing at his face where it was gashed and scalded by shrapnel from the wave.
There was a hopeful pause before Miir attacked. His black sword was as vicious as Maia had always found it to be. Once again she was engulfed by the fire of his fearsome swordplay that grew stronger around her with every passing moment. All Maia could think was to fight until her last breath. She could not give in. She had to fight for Bikele, Gibbon, and everything else that was good in this world. Wishing for her friends to arrive soon, Maia lunged at Miir, trying to push him back a little, and hoping to catch him off balance. She had forgotten all about his swordsmanship, about his skills that were far superior than Maia would have liked to admit. He stepped aside with the quickness of a lightning bolt, and as Maia struggled to regain her balance, the hilt of his sword came crashing down at the back of her neck.
Bellator went flying from her hand again and Maia fell in a crumpled heap against a leg of the table. As she slowly brought herself up to a sitting position, she became aware of the sharp tip of Miir’s sword resting between her eyes, steady and poised to strike.
“Why are you doing this?” Maia said, struggling to fill her lungs with air.
“Because you are being a hindrance to our operations and . . . you threatened my brother.” Miir’s voice was cold and unrelenting.
How Maia had hoped to run into Miir over the last few weeks, how badly she had wished for a chance to apologize. Never once had she dreamed of meeting him like this. She had not meant it then, but what she had said to him the last time they had met had indeed come true—they were surely not friends anymore.
“Don’t do this. Please,” Maia pleaded, the painful lump in her throat choking her voice. “This . . . this is wrong.”
“I have—” he started, and stopped right away.
The sound of pattering feet came down the stairs.
“Maia must be down there.” Ren’s voice was loud and clear.
“Get in here, Miir, you do not need to answer her. We have to get our assets to safety,” Remii yelled from the door of the Aqumob, his hand still clutching his face.
Miir stood still; the tip of his sword wavered at Maia’s throat for a few moments.
“My allegiance is to my nation,” he hissed. “Nothing you do or say will change that fact.”
Then he strode over to join his brother.
Maia scrambled to her feet and rushed after him, but the door was almost closed when she reached
it.
“You’ll not be so lucky if we happen to meet again,” Remii snarled, and then the door slammed shut. With a loud swish and a gurgle, the Aqumob sunk below the surface of the water.
Maia did not remember how long she stood there staring at the ripples in the dark water. Our assets, Remii had said. If one was Gibbon, the other could have been Bikele.
They have taken him.
Hands shook her by the shoulders and tugged her by the arms, and all she could think of was Bikele. The man who had chosen to spend his life in this tiny room so Maia could be safe . . . the man who had seen her come into this world was . . . gone.
56: Ipso Facto
“The sage is dying,” Ren whispered, as he sat down next to Maia. “Did you get to speak to him?”
All Maia could do was nod.
“Everyone else is safe. There are about a thousand security guards up there now,” Nafi said. “Kusha is badly hurt from his fall, but they managed to stop the Order of the Fyrstell from damaging the Converter Galley.”
“Kusha fell?” Maia asked, her mind still wandering through a thick fog.
“Yes,” Nafi answered. “Luckily, he fell along the side of a converter and that broke his fall. He has a pretty nasty scrape on his left arm, but it’ll heal. One masked man fell as well. He wasn’t as lucky as Kusha though. He landed inside a converter . . . must’ve been killed immediately.”
“What about the other men?”
“Escaped. They ran through here,” Ren replied. “They must’ve boarded the Aqumob with Remii and . . . people. Didn’t you notice?”
Maia shook her head. She had been too busy fighting for her life.
“I couldn’t stop them,” the words escaped her lips in an anguished whisper. “I tried, but—”
“Stop it, Maia,” Nafi chided. “You should be glad that you escaped unhurt, that they let you go.”
“She’s right.” Ren was quick to support Nafi. “People of the SDS, people like Remii are . . . trained for combat and trained to kill. You got lucky.”
