by S. G. Basu
“Miir?”
“And stay down.”
Yoome stirred as Miir strode over to the opposite side of the bed. He was still crouched at the window when Yoome got to her feet. A strong spiral burst from Yoome’s hands and tore through the room, leaving a trail of destruction in its wake as it made its way to Miir. Miir raised a hand to defend himself, but he was too late. The wave hit the side of his body and slammed him against the wall.
As he tottered, Yoome stepped forward with the swagger of a predator, a sinister smile on her face. A flash of white light followed by a searing wave of heat flooded the room.
This is the end. Maia closed her eyes.
There was a loud noise of a body crashing, a deep groan, and then . . . silence. The fearful quiet had stretched for an agonizing while before Maia opened her eyes again, expecting to see Yoome’s menacing face and twisted grin. The room was empty. In the brief moment of distressing blankness that enveloped her mind, Maia inferred that the two warring TEKists had annihilated each other. Then she saw the sprawled form of Yoome writhing on the floor.
Maia turned away anxiously, trying to locate Miir, hoping that he was not hurt as badly. Peeping around the corner of the curved windowsill, she saw him standing with his eyes closed. His face looked drained, his breathing rapid, but he seemed in a far better state than his opponent who showed no signs of recovery. The sound of heavy footsteps came closer, the door opened, and four guards wearing dark red uniforms of the Chancery marched into the room.
Maia crouched closer to the unconscious Ren and shook him lightly by his shoulders, hoping for him to wake up. After the longest time, Ren stirred and opened his bleary eyes.
He tried to sit up against the wall behind him. “What happened, Maia?”
Before Maia could respond, strong hands grabbed them by their arms.
“Stand up,” Miir snarled as he pulled the duo to their feet. On the far side of the room, two guards stood watching over Yoome, while the other two left for reinforcements.
“You tricked me,” Miir whispered through clenched teeth, his eyes flashing with rage, “and . . . betrayed me. I really wish I never have to speak to any of you again.”
Maia had just started to say how sorry they were for running away when the two guards watching Yoome fell away with a loud gasp. Terror was etched on their ashen faces; their eyes stretched wide, lips trembling. Miir’s grip slackened a bit as he peered to see the cause of the disturbance.
Maia clamped her mouth shut with her hands to stop from screaming. Yoome sat with her back to the wall, but she was no longer the girl they had known. The seemingly lifeless form that rested on the floor was a chalk-white mannequin attired in academy uniform. The curtain of long, black hair had vanished and so had her face. What remained was a blank canvas of a limp human figure, grotesque and strange.
“What . . . ?” Ren had barely spoken when Miir turned and pushed them back against the wall.
“Listen to me,” Miir whispered, his tone urgent. “Listen to me very carefully, for your life may depend on what you choose to do. This is what you will say had happened—you were both knocked unconscious by someone you did not see. When you woke up, you saw the guards marching in. Am I clear?” The words barely made it past his gritted teeth.
Maia and Ren nodded vigorously. He shoved them back to the corner of the room. Before Maia could fully grasp his instructions, the door opened again.
A tall, gaunt man with a shaved head marched into the room, followed by a troop of Chancery guards. The man had a casual elegant air about him that reminded Maia of a beast of prey. His keen dark eyes shone on his pale face, and they darted around the room, scanning every corner.
“The Xifarian Chancellor,” Ren whispered to Maia.
“And Miir’s father,” Maia whispered back.
The chancellor stood gazing at Yoome’s limp form. “They are here,” he murmured.
“She seems dead,” one of the guards said, his eyes scanning the floorboards. “She was alive when we secured the room. Then she . . . transformed.”
“You have searched the room, I presume?” asked a man who had followed the chancellor into the room.
“No, sir.” The guard hung his head low.
“Then do it now,” the man snapped. As the guards rambled around, the chancellor walked toward Maia and Ren.
“This is not a very auspicious meeting, I am afraid,” the chancellor said with a smile. His voice was smooth and playful, but somewhere deep down lurked a hard, steely edge. His eyes scrutinized their faces and came to rest on Maia’s.
“I came here to personally thank you for your efforts at the Sanctuary, only to find that you have been viciously attacked. It is truly shameful that our visitors have to endure situations like this, and I am genuinely sorry for the pains you have been put through. Now, can you tell me what exactly happened here?”
Maia saw Miir’s jaw tighten as she opened her mouth to reply.
“I . . . I . . . can hardly remember,” she stammered. “We were standing in front of the window looking outside when something . . . hit me in the back. I don’t remember anything else. When I woke up, I saw Ren lying next to me unconscious . . . and . . . people standing over there.”
The chancellor’s eyes narrowed as his piercing gaze scanned Maia’s face. Then he turned toward Ren.
“And you, young man?”
“About the same, sir. She was shaking me by my arm and calling my name when I woke up.”
“I came here to check on my ward, sir, and found Yoome,” Miir spoke as the chancellor set his questioning gaze on him. “When I confronted her, she attacked. I had scarcely managed to knock her out when the guards came in to sweep the room for your visit.”
“You knew the assailant?” The officer who had been barking orders spoke again.
“Yes,” Miir nodded. “She was a Circle One student at the XDA, a guest along with my team at the Grand Gala. She was being commended for upholding the Code of Honor.”
“And she did not divulge the reason for attacking you? Or for being here?” the chancellor asked, his voice insistent. Miir shook his head solemnly, his face a mask of innocence.
“Sir,” the officer whispered urgently to the chancellor. “I think we should leave right now, sir. This surely looks like the—”
“The R’armimon,” the chancellor snarled, cutting him off midway. “I know that.”
“This seems like an assassination plot against you,” the officer continued in a grave voice. “There could very well be more of them lurking around here.”
The chancellor nodded vaguely, immersed in deep thought. When he looked up, his face had hardened and his eyes gleamed with a quiet rage.
“Wait for me at the warden’s office,” he instructed Miir.
As soon as Miir left the room, the chancellor turned toward Maia and Ren. His eyes bore into Maia’s.
“You are lying.” The cold ruthlessness of his voice chilled the atmosphere immediately. “I wonder why the assassin chose your room to show up. It appears to me that the Resistance has planted you here, to infiltrate our defenses. And look how well they have done—you nearly succeeded in eliminating me.”
“What do you mean?” Maia protested, shocked and baffled at the barrage of unfounded allegations. “I’m not connected to any Resistance. I’ve never even seen them . . . ever.”
The chancellor’s face twisted into a mocking smile, his eyes glinting with indiscreet menace as they held Maia’s gaze. “I have seen through façades before, and you cannot get away with feigned innocence. I have to admit that I never expected the Resistance to align with the R’armimon. That is a brilliant move, but they have most certainly underestimated our capabilities. Your leaders will see our wrath, now that they have chosen to confront us so audaciously.”
Utterly bewildered, Maia turned toward Ren, finding him looking puzzled, his eyes wide with confusion.
The chancellor continued his merciless rant. “To you and your friends I will
say this—you are safe as long as you are a part of the Alliance Initiative. I cannot disrupt that effort. But I will warn you, be wary of every step you take from this moment on, for you have made very powerful enemies who will watch your every move.”
“But, sir—” Ren launched into a weak dissent that he could not finish.
A commotion that had been growing steadily outside burst through the open door. Master Kehorkjin walked in accompanied by a healer of the Conservatory, arguing loudly.
“Ah, Master Kehorkjin is here,” the chancellor’s voice softened abruptly at the master’s entry. “After all you have been through, I do not think it is advisable that you exert yourselves further. So I asked the academy to provide you with utmost protection and comfort, to ensure that you heal completely before you venture into the next phase of the Initiative. I will personally see to it that your medals are presented to you before you leave our planet.”
The chancellor turned toward the master with a smile; from his friendly countenance it was hard to imagine his harshness of moments before. “Now, Master Kehorkjin will escort you back to the academy.”
“I most certainly will, sir,” Master Kehorkjin said with a curt bow.
The chancellor left the room without another word or another look at Maia and Ren who stood in stunned silence.
47: Back at the XDA
Master Kehorkjin led Maia and Ren out to the lobby of the Conservatory where Dani and Kusha sat quietly, while Nafi paced back and forth. Before anyone could ask any questions, they were herded out of the building and almost hurled into a waiting private transporter. The inside of the vehicle was plush and comfortable, and Kehorkjin directed them to the long seat along one side. He sat down facing them, taking time to wrap his arms over the luxurious armrests.
“Just to inform those of you who are still in the dark about our situation, we are headed back to the academy.” Master Kehorkjin sounded so perky, he could as well be singing. “Your trip to Armezai is over.”
“What?” Kusha howled.
“But the Grand Gala is tonight.” Dani’s face drooped.
“If we’re going back, where’s Yoome? And where is Miir?” Nafi demanded.
The master rubbed his chin thoughtfully before replying.
“You are a very bright and industrious bunch, no question about that. And I have to admit that I am quite impressed by your bravado. But there is one basic lesson that you need so desperately—the art of knowing when not to speak.” His smile changed into an angry glare. If a glare could kill, this one would have fried them alive.
“But—” Kusha stopped midway.
“There you go . . . again,” Master Kehorkjin sneered. Kusha flushed the deepest crimson and fell silent.
“Now, no more questions,” the master continued, raising an ominous finger over his head, a sarcastic smile adorning his face, “or chatter. I do not want to hear a word. Not even a sound until we reach the academy. Do we understand each other?”
Nafi nodded first, the rest followed, though not with any eagerness. For the remainder of the journey, they fidgeted, scratched, yawned, blinked, yawned, and fidgeted some more. When the transporter came to a stop at the XDA, everyone had grown somewhat comfortable with the silence. They were shooed into the Infirmary where a band of healers, led by none other than the puffy-faced Vi, converged on them. After a long session of prodding and poking, they were finally declared fit and released in time for a light lunch.
It was not until they gathered in the privacy of their study that Maia and Ren recounted the incident while the others listened with curiosity.
“So . . . they suspect that Yoome was R’armimon?” Dani asked after the whole tale was told.
“But why did she attack you guys?” Kusha asked.
“They think she was there to attack the chancellor,” Maia said. “We just happened to be in her way.”
“That’s weird,” Nafi blurted.
“Told you she was crazy,” Ren commented in his wisest voice.
“I don’t understand why Miir asked us to lie?” Maia said, sullen at the thought. “Now the chancellor thinks that the Resistance is out to kill him.”
“From the way that man harassed you, he sounds totally insane,” Nafi remarked, shaking an indignant head.
“How can he make such allegations without any proof?” Dani sat bundled up like a cocoon on the settee, a grimace etched deep on her face.
“Well, he guessed that we were not telling the truth, so obviously he grew suspicious.” Maia hung her head, the chancellor’s threats buzzing painfully in her mind. “They’re going to crack down on the Resistance for things they haven’t done, all for my lies, and I don’t even know what I lied for.”
“We could ask Miir,” Kusha suggested.
“But how will we find him?” Nafi scratched her head. “The students have left for two weeks and most of the teachers as well. We’ll be gone by the time they return.”
The group fell silent for a while. There were just too many questions, and they were too tired to think clearly.
When Maia retired to her room that night, a deep and numbing sadness invaded her heart. The events of the day scrolled in her mind in a never-ending parade as she lay in bed; the more she thought about the precarious position they were in, the more helpless she felt. It was a long wait until sleep finally brought some respite, washing away the overwhelming worries.
***
The following morning all the anxiety was buried deep under a pile of not-so-enjoyable work. The team thought, fought, struggled, and labored over their final essay in praise of the Initiative, trying hard to remember the good experiences, and trying even harder to push away the bad ones. By the end of the day, it was compiled and ready.
That evening, as Dani the perfectionist hovered over their paper, making last-minute corrections and improvements, a tired Ren snatched the sheaf out of her hands and deposited it unceremoniously in the submissions bin. After the initial shock and disbelief, Dani stomped away toward her room. Kusha ran after her, dragging a reluctant Ren with him in hopes of making them reconcile. Nafi followed, hopping and skipping behind the duo, obviously ecstatic about finding yet another excuse to lecture someone.
Maia watched them leave, and then ambled toward the Sakoro trees in the backyard. Karhann’s gang passed her by, their faces droopy and sad. Maia did not know what they had been told about Yoome’s disappearance, but whatever it was, Karhann and his posse had not asked Maia or anyone else about it. No one had heard if their team had been disqualified, there was no announcement of the twentieth group to move on to the second leg of the contest either. Clearly, the Academy Board took a long time to deliberate on such matters.
The beauty of the Sakoro trees in full bloom made Maia smile. But as breathtaking as it was, all she could think of now was the little painted house nestled in the green hills of Appian, the mist rising from the fields at sunrise, and the coolness of the moonlight sweeping the valley. While the impeccable white buildings that surrounded her now had become a part of her memories, she was not going to miss them for too long.
48: Shadow of the R’armimon
The medals for the Seliban Challenge arrived the next morning via a Chancery courier. The bronze talismans gleamed in their beautiful black velvet cases. Embossed at their center was the Xifarian crest, a pair of brilliant red stones that formed the dragon’s eyes matched the blood-red ribbon. The group spent a long time admiring their dazzling prizes and chatting about their adventures before they reluctantly walked toward the dining bay for their last meal together on Xif.
Ren and Dani had made peace, and it was fun to have laughter and good-natured ribbing back in their conversation. After they had finished eating, Nafi slipped away from the table. Ren, Kusha, and Dani continued to chat about their plans for the two-week break that had just been announced. Everyone was excited to be able to visit their families, even if it was only for a brief time, before their journey to the city under the seas. Maia walked ba
ck to her room, lay on her bed, and stared at the ceiling. Memories came rushing in, of her stay on Xif, the challenges they had overcome, and the eventful final week, all jostling for space in her mind.
She had not been alone long when she heard a muffled din outside followed by a series of loud, impatient knocks on her door. Maia had barely reached the door when Nafi stormed in cradling a huge bound book and deposited herself on Maia’s bed, the rest of the group at her heels. Nafi looked gloomy, and the cheerfulness of moments ago had vanished from everyone’s face.
“Found it,” Nafi declared.
“Found what?” Maia sat down at the edge of her bed.
“It’s all in this book,” Nafi nodded at the book on her lap. “It’s true. She was indeed an assassin of the R’armimon.”
“Yoome?” Maia asked, a chill enveloping her heart at the not-so-unexpected but definitely unwelcome affirmation. “Really?”
“Yes, and she hails from a legendary school of assassins called the ‘Roohe-Lenkkei’ which means ‘Chained Spirits’ in R’armimon,” Nafi said, glancing over the curious faces around her.
“Details . . . please,” Kusha sounded impatient.
“I asked Lady Dae about assassins, and she wouldn’t tell me much at all,” Nafi informed. “But at least she gave enough hints to find this book.”
“Wait! How did you get hold of Lady Dae?” Maia interrupted. “I thought the instructors had left for two weeks as well.”
Nafi hesitated before answering her. “I . . . have been requesting special audiences with her. She’s a living encyclopedia of all things related to Xifarian history and—”
“Hold on a moment,” Dani cut her off. “You’ve been taking extra lessons from her?”
“You could say that.” Nafi shrugged. She continued, seeing the deepening frown on Dani’s face. “You have a problem with that? Is it wrong for me to like history?”
“No, of course not.” Dani shook her head. “But why didn’t you tell us about it?”
“Don’t know.” Nafi flashed a sheepish smile. “Guess I wasn’t in a mood to share all that with you in the beginning. And, when I got around to trusting you guys, it was too late and . . . rather embarrassing.”
