Maia and the Xifarian Conspiracy (The Lightbound Saga Book 1)

by S. G. Basu

  “Okay, that’s good enough. Now let’s hear what you discovered,” Kusha jutted in. “So, what about this assassin?”

  “I was able to find a few lines on the Roohe-Lenkkei in this frumpy book,” Nafi said, her face glum as she started to read aloud.

  “Legendary for the viciousness of their attacks and their brutality on subjects, the Roohe-Lenkkei are the finest weapons in the arsenal of the R’armimon, the élite of their Xienotaph System. Named so because they are simply spirits who choose personas as needed—they can be relentless during the hunt and merciless during the kill. They are particularly useful for their self-destructing nature when captured. Their face disappears and spirit dissipates at the will of the assassin, leaving no opportunity of tracing them back to their dispatcher.”

  Nafi thrust the book at Maia. “Look at this illustration.”

  A picture of a man was spread across the center of the page. The unnerving blankness of his face made Maia shiver. He clutched a glass vial in his right hand, which looked exactly like the one Yoome had pressed against Maia’s temple.

  “Isn’t that the vial you were talking about?” Nafi asked.

  Maia and Ren nodded in unison.

  “And what is that thing?” Maia asked.

  “It’s an extractore,” Nafi explained. “This book says that it’s used to extract souls.”

  “Extract souls?” Maia almost screamed the question. Her teammates sat gaping in horror. “What for?”

  Nafi shrugged; the book obviously had no answers to that question. Maia sat dumbfounded. Thoughts circled in her head. Countless questions all jumbled up in a giant knotted ball of disbelief. Or is it just fear? It does not make any sense. Why would anyone attack two insignificant kids from the XDA, unless they stood in the way of something bigger, more important, like the chancellor?

  “It’s true then. She was planning to eliminate us and then attack the chancellor,” a whisper escaped her parched throat.

  After a long, anguished silence that fell like a suffocating weight on the small group, Kusha spoke. “That seems likely.”

  “Makes sense,” Nafi added. “Since they are shape shifters, Yoome could have eliminated Maia and assumed her form. Then it was just a matter of waiting for the chancellor to visit.”

  “Of course she didn’t expect to find me there,” Ren remarked.

  Silence swooped in once more, as the group sat immersed in thought.

  “The R’armimon must have some kind of vendetta against Xifarians,” Maia finally broke the stillness.

  “It’s a blood feud,” Nafi whispered. She shot a quick glance at the door and whispered again. “That’s all Lady Dae would tell me.”

  “And now, thanks to Miir, we have become part of that,” Maia murmured, barely managing to find her voice.

  They sat huddled in silence for a very long time. Then they bade each other farewell. Ren left first in a shuttle transporter to his hometown of Ixiil, while the rest took the Fahrbot back to Arpasgula. From the spaceport, Kusha took the holding pod for the Third Continent along with Nafi, since the Solianese Circus was now camped there. Maia and Dani traveled back together to the Second Continent.

  ***

  The sun had almost set when Maia got off the pod at the Troughs near Shiloh. She spied a rather large figure looming in the distance, waving wildly at her.

  “Herc,” she grinned and ran across the mossy ground to embrace him.

  “You look so grown up, miss,” he beamed, wiping tears of joy from his eyes as Maia laughed. “Sure missed yeh ’round here.”

  Maia settled down next to Herc and they pulled away toward Appian. As the wagon trudged along the dusty roads, Maia could not help but feel a little distant. Safe, of course, and happy to be with family, but something had changed forever. She closed her eyes and thought of the past months at the XDA—friends, thrilling discoveries, joyful times, and dangers surmounted—they did it as a team, her team. Maia’s heart swelled with pride; they had accomplished a lot together. And in an avalanche of sighs that made her heart throb, Maia realized that she longed to see her friends. As much as she would have liked to say otherwise, she already missed her days at the XDA.

  49: Sophie

  “Here we are, miss. Home,” Herc’s voice flitted through the hazy stream of thoughts that hovered in Maia’s mind.

  She woke up with a start; the gentle rocking of the wagon had lulled her into a slumber. The evening soaked in the exotic fragrance of the Hansa flowers brought back memories of days long past—some of them sad, of hopelessness, of confusion, but most of happiness, of being loved unconditionally. Maia reveled in the familiarity she had pined for so much in the last six months—the green-roofed house that sat beyond the oak, the red-orange glow of the last sunrays caressing the hilltop, the distant hoot of a night bird drifting through the nippy evening air.

  “Where’s Dada? Oh, there he is!” Maia waved, springing to her feet as she saw the figure of the old man on the porch steps. Soon, she was running up the stairs and into his outstretched arms.

  Dinner was sumptuous. There was grilled Flatfish and roasted potatoes, a colorful medley of chunky vegetables, freshly baked bread stuffed with spiced lentils, and pickled apples. While Maia did not dislike the food at the XDA, she had to agree with Nafi—this was real food.

  “So glad you’re back,” Emmy said when dinner was over. “Got a little too quiet around here.”

  “I’ll make up for it, Emmy,” Maia replied with an impish smile.

  “So how was your stay, Maia? Did you like it there?” Dada asked, his tone a little cautious.

  “I have so much to tell you, Dada.” Maia started describing her friends, the challenges, and the upcoming journey to the Jjordic capital. Before she could even round off a brief summary, Emmy came by.

  “Can’t have you falling sick out of exhaustion. It’s all very interesting, but the rest has to wait till tomorrow.” Her quiet suggestion sounded more like a warning. “And don’t forget, you have another trip coming up in just a few days.”

  “Good to see everyone getting back in character.” Dada’s comment drew a loud snort from Emmy.

  “I do need to say this, Dada,” Maia said as she helped Emmy clear the table. “While it wasn’t always fun and I wasn’t always happy, I’m glad I went. And I made friends, Dada, real friends.”

  She hesitated for a moment as she formed the next sentence in her mind, taking care in choosing the words to match her thoughts precisely. “I heard of Sophie. And for the first time in a very long while I wished . . . I wished I knew her better,” she ended in a low whisper.

  ***

  Later that night, as Maia snuggled into bed with a book in hand, a soft knock sounded at the door, making her smile.

  “Come on in, Dada.”

  He looked smaller and paler than usual in the dim light. Clutched at his chest was a small brown package. Pulling the rocking chair from the corner, he sat down next to her bed. He seemed a little hesitant; his eyes darted anxiously around the room before he focused his gaze on the corner behind Maia and started to speak. His voice quivered just a little, his eyes glazed, and Maia knew he was thinking of her mother.

  “I’ve kept these memories to myself for too long. Sophie said I had to wait, at least until you were thirteen. She wanted this to be a gift at your Undertaking, but before I could give it to you, you were taken away. Now I think that was a good thing. Because I see in you something I hadn’t before. I see a heart willing to forgive. Now you’re ready for what I have to tell you.”

  Maia sat still, unable to speak, hanging on to every word Dada had just uttered.

  “Sophie was my life, not only the best in everything she did, but also the sweetest child that ever could be. Not just an outstanding student, but as compassionate and caring a person, as she was brave and upright. I always feared that her immense capacity to love would get her into trouble. Alasdair was industrious and worthy, but he paled next to his sister’s brilliance. Yet, he was t
he best brother there was, always proud of his little sister, and always ready to protect her from the tiniest breeze that blew her way.”

  Dada paused and crinkled his nose, as he always did when trying to restrain his emotions.

  “Everything was well until the Xifarians started recruiting for their academy, and Sophie wanted to try out for it. While Alasdair was dead-set against the idea, I couldn’t refuse Sophie her wish, and within weeks she was in that place up in the sky, loving every moment of her stay. She made new friends and learned new things, but a wall of secrets slowly grew between us.”

  Dada leaned back. His gaze, heavy with memories, skimmed the joists in the ceiling.

  “Sophie blossomed into a lovely young woman, gifted and accomplished, honored with the Token of D’tsani for being the best graduate of her year at the XDA. But something in her eyes worried me; it was a look of helplessness, of fear, of being burdened with knowledge far beyond her years. She grew quieter, almost brooding, until she went off to work at Zagran.”

  “Zagran?” Maia interrupted.

  “Yes, she said that our planet needed rebuilding, and she was going to start from down under.”

  “And then?” Maia sat up, perching at the edge of her bed.

  “I don’t know what she changed, but she definitely looked happier. A few years later, she joined the Scientific Defense Services.”

  Maia fell back a little, her brows furrowed. “Scientific Defense Services of Xif? But why?”

  Dada shook his head. Obviously, he did not have an answer.

  “Then came the days of the Exchange. All the hopes we had of getting out of these shackles were dashed. Sophie disappeared, and Alasdair barely lived through it—he had lost the will to live.”

  “His little sister had not only left him to die but betrayed the cause of her people,” Maia murmured the words she had heard years ago, words that she would never forget. “She had sold the life of every single child on this planet to the Xifarians.”

  “I didn’t hear from Sophie after the Exchange,” Dada blinked at the sudden rush of tears that filled his eyes, “except for a note when she got married. ‘You will like him a lot,’ she had written. I waited to see them, but days flew by like a passing breeze, and my Sophie never came home. I didn’t hear from her until the night she brought you to us.”

  Maia’s heart pounded. Dada had always told her how her mother had vanished without a trace, but obviously that was not true.

  “It had snowed that evening, not a heavy snow, but a light sprinkling that left the grounds white and sparkling. The errand boy of the village innkeeper came knocking late at night that an ailing young lady at the inn had requested my presence.”

  Tears trickled down Dada’s cheeks. He made a few attempts to wipe them off, but they kept flowing. “The young lady, my Sophie, was not just ailing . . . she was dying. She looked so calm and peaceful in her sleep. Next to her, wrapped in a pile of blankets, was the most beautiful baby girl. Sophie didn’t speak again, just smiled as she placed your tiny hand in mine before fading away forever.”

  Silence crept in, and Maia and her grandfather sat united in grief. After the longest while, Dada moved. He held out the small brown package, its withered shell held together by a thin string. Maia’s name was scrawled across the dark, creased surface in big, bold letters. Her hands trembled when she took it, fingers shaking with anticipation as she tugged at the twine.

  A shock of gold and silk dazzled Maia’s eyes when the wrap fell away. A small woven scarf swathed in an exquisite pattern formed an inner bundle, and what lay within its luxurious confines made Maia gasp. The asymmetric triangle made of dull black metal was all too familiar—it was a neurogenic interface, Ren had said, one that gave access to memories. Her mother had left her a memory, if only she knew how to read it.

  Maia scooped it up with great care and placed it on her left brow, trying to remember the way Miir wore it. She did not have to try hard, for the moment the cool metal touched her forehead, it came to life and clung to her. A tingle spread from it, like a soft, cold stream of water coursing through her senses and seeping into her consciousness. A bright flash of light shook her out of the soothing trance and made her shudder. Her eyes flew wide open to receive the vision that slowly came to life.

  “I hope you are with your grandfather right now, listening to me as he watches over you,” said a voice that was tender, yet strong. “I am sorry that I could not speak with you sooner. We had to wait until you were at least thirteen, so your senses could be strong enough to accept a memory.

  Her mother stood smiling—pale and freckled, her dark hair loosely framing her kind and gentle face, her bright blue eyes shining with warmth and affection.

  “I do not know if you will grow up to hate me; it will not be your fault if you do. I owe a lot of people apologies and explanations, but most of all I owe it to you, Maia.”

  Her mother paused to take a breath and her gaze dropped, heavy with sorrow. It was not long before she looked up again, her face hard and resolute.

  “I remember as if it were yesterday. The Sakoro trees behind the rotunda were in full bloom, and the Sedara sparkled with soft morning light. It would have been a beautiful day had I not known of the curse that lay at the heart of the traveling planet I had fallen in love with. Their eternal trek through the universe had always fascinated me. I had often dreamed of visiting unknown worlds with them until the day I came to know how, until I was told of the next sacrifice that flight demanded—the life of the Tansian sun.

  “Deep within the Sedara was a chalice of darkness that enveloped a lighted core—the dark heart of Xif, the Verto-balancer Capsule. It would suck the life out of our sun, absorb its energy, and propel Xif to a new system and a new life. Tansi would perish in the darkness of its dying sun. On that beautiful and cruel morning, everything changed forever. Each waking moment since then was a plan, a design to stop them from flying away from our system. I betrayed my family, I sacrificed my friends, all to win the Xifarians’ trust and bring myself closer to my target.

  “Only I could stop this madness they said; only I could embrace the core and then tear it apart, for I was born a Shimugien—I had the power of the light. And so I did. I took the heart of their star and ripped it, separating the dark from the light, scattering the broken pieces far and wide, hoping no one would ever bring them back together again. Now my Tansi, its fields and its valleys, its seas and its mountains, would live on.”

  Her mother paused for a moment. Then she sighed.

  “I saved Tansi, but I tore my family apart. I hurt all the people I had ever cared for and I failed to be there for you. I know that my life will end soon; the light I touched consumes me as I speak. And I have to flee before they suspect, or they will drive me to insanity in their quest to find the Afterlight.

  “I do not fear them for what they might do to me; I fear them for you. I fear they will find the thread that connects us, and I fear they will hunt you down for it. I wish to keep you hidden. I hope that your life will be free from the burden of my actions, that you will not be punished for what I have done.

  “Always . . . always stay watchful, Maia. These are the ones with the blood of millions on their hands, ones who took the life of every significant star system on their way to Tansi. Now stripped of the powers, they lie prone, terrified that their nemesis might catch up with them. They will move worlds to try to restore all that I broke, and they will try to use you in that effort. So when they find you, if they find you, their vengeance will be swift, ruthless.”

  Her mother looked away, waiting a while before she spoke again.

  “I will have been long gone when you hear this, but do not shed tears for me, Maia. I will live as long as Tansi is alive, and my spirit will always be with you. I wish I could leave more memories for you, but for your safety I cannot. So, this will be the last time you see me.”

  Her mother smiled, a flush of sadness dimmed the glow in her eyes for a moment before they sp
arkled once again.

  “I love you, Maia.”

  As her mother’s image dissolved and the room came back into focus, the interface fell off Maia’s forehead in a crumpled mass, shrunk rapidly, and then disintegrated into pieces.

  Maia sat wordlessly for a while. Her shaking fingers reached for the fragments on her lap in a frantic attempt to feel her mother’s presence in them. With every touch, the pieces crumbled further, until all that remained was dust. Maia could not look into Dada’s eyes yet; instead, her blank gaze scanned the floorboards incessantly. She was so horribly wrong. Dada was right about his Sophie, he had always been right. His Sophie had sacrificed her life and family so that her world could live. Maia felt her heart grow leaden with shame. Dada was not what she thought either; he was not the half-broken old man bent under the weight of his memories. He was strong enough to keep believing in his daughter when no one else did. She had to tell Dada about everything that had transpired in the past few months. He deserved to know.

  The candles had burned down to knobby stumps when Maia finished relating her adventures. Dada listened, his face was stoic, but his shoulders slumped and his eyes clouded with worry.

  “Maia,” an anguished whisper escaped his lips.

  Maia reached for his cold, wizened hands. “I’ll be careful, Dada, I promise,” she said softly.

  Moments passed, silence engulfed the room again.

  “You forgot that,” Dada said suddenly, pointing at the package. Something else lay within the golden folds.

  Maia parted the silk. A pendant unlike anything she had seen gleamed in the flickering candlelight. It was a mesh of crystal, and through the dark, shimmering blackness of the rock ran veins of minerals in a myriad of hues. Sparkling greens mingled with intense reds, shades of blues fused with golds—all woven together in filigree and shaped to form a half circle. It seemed like half of a circular locket, broken right down the middle, the edges irregular yet surprisingly smooth.