CHAPTER SEVEN

On unsteady legs, Maeve made her way up to the Council Chamber, supported by Davin and Runa. Sershi had objected—doctors really were the same no matter where in the galaxy you went—but this particular conversation Maeve had to have with the Council was long overdue.

It was evening, and all of the day’s work in the fields and orchards was complete. Those Ixtrayu not enjoying their evening meal in the dining area stood back as they made their way through the crowd. Maeve tried her best to smile and nod as she passed, hoping to generate an aura of friendliness, and to her delight, several of them returned the gesture.

Two chairs had been set up for her and Davin, in a position where they could face Kelia, whose high-backed seat sat at one end of the room. The three Councilors’ chairs were arrayed in a semicircle at the other.

As she sat, Maeve gave thanks that the numbness in her legs was ebbing, giving way to an uncomfortable pins-and-needles sensation when she tried to put weight on them. She thanked Runa for the help up the stairs, and the huntress bowed in acknowledgment before exiting the Chamber.

Maeve scanned the room, which featured a large open-air window that looked out upon the Ixtrayan Plateau, the village, and the river that wound its way through. If she craned her neck, she could see a section of the croplands where several small fields of golden grain awaited the first drops of rain of the season.

“Are you nervous, Mom?” Davin asked.

“A little,” she said. “Giving speeches isn’t really my thing. I’ve taught classes before, of course, but I’ve always done better by showing, not telling.”

“Remember, I’m here if you want me to jump in.”

“Thanks, Dav, but this feels like something I have to do myself.”

Kelia entered the room, greeting them with a nod and a smile before making her way to her seat. Immediately thereafter, Katura, Eloni, and Liana filed in as well. Their faces were emotionless, but Maeve didn’t detect any tension or hostility coming from them.

When all were seated, Kelia spoke. “Before we begin, there are some things I feel I must say, to avoid the kind of ... disagreement we had in the mountains.”

Maeve winced, recalling every moment of that conversation. Things had been said, voices had been raised, feelings had been hurt, and Kelia had left the next morning. At the time, Maeve assumed that would be the end of their relationship, but fate, or Arantha possibly, had other plans.

“I accept the fact that we on Elystra are not as advanced as you, and that in many ways we remind you of a time on your world when men and women did not coexist like they do today. The system we have created here, in this Plateau,” she moved her arms in a sweeping gesture, “is far from perfect, as you have stated. However, it is what has kept us alive, happy, and prosperous for eight hundred years.”

Maeve nodded. “I understand.”

“That being said,” Kelia addressed the Council, “based on the last few visions I have had since my return, I must make it known that I believe, with all my heart, that the Ixtrayu are entering a period of transition, of upheaval, and, yes, of great danger.”

Katura’s mouth opened in a startled gasp. “Protectress?”

Kelia stood, moving over to the three elderly women. “What I am about to tell you is not to leave this room. I must ask you all to swear an oath to keep this to yourselves.”

The Councilors exchanged several anxious glances, then nodded. As one, they placed their left hands on their sternums and then their right hands over their left. Bowing their heads, they spoke in unison, “My word is my bond, and to Arantha I swear my silence.”

“Thank you, Councilors.” Kelia moved over to the window. In a hushed, almost choked whisper, she said, “I have seen, in my mind’s eye, the lands and forests of the Ixtrayu destroyed by fire. I have seen our people, burned almost beyond recognition, littering the fields and paths of our village.”

Dead silence. Maeve saw abject shock on the faces of the Council, and her thoughts drifted inward.

My God. She saw that? Is destruction going to follow me and Davin wherever we go?

Liana was the first to recover her voice, casting a wary glance at Maeve. “How ... how does it ...” She trailed off, unable to complete the sentence.

“I do not know,” Kelia said. “But of one thing I am convinced: Maeve and Davin are not the harbingers of our doom. Because of the steps Arantha has taken to bring us all together, I believe they are, quite possibly, the force for our salvation.”

Eloni’s eyes flicked rapidly from Maeve to Davin and back to Kelia. “But it was a vision, Protectress! A vision of the future! How can we prevent what is destined to be?”

Her face firm and resolute, Kelia replied, “Because she would not show us our own destruction unless there was a way to prevent it. After all that’s happened,” she indicated Maeve and Davin, “there must be a way.”

“And if there isn’t?” Katura asked.

Kelia planted her feet and straightened her back. “Then we shall die as we’ve always lived: as free women.”

Maeve cleared her throat and held up her hand, drawing the attention of the others. “When we came to Elystra, it was my first priority to not become embroiled in the politics or the natural development of your world.” She cast a glance at Davin. “But everything’s changed now. This is where we’re supposed to be.”

“Excuse me ... Major?” said Liana, looking in Maeve’s direction.

“Please, call me Maeve.”

Liana nodded. “Maeve ... when you say ‘this is where you’re supposed to be’, do you mean because of the bond you developed with the Protectress as a result of your Sharing, or of the Wielding abilities you developed because of the Stone you found?”

“Neither. Both of those things were amazing, life-altering even, but I was still fully prepared to leave Elystra with the Stone, as Kelia no doubt told you.”

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“She did,” said Katura.

Maeve turned to face Kelia. “After you left, we were packing up our campsite, preparing to leave, when I got a message that changed everything.”

“Mom?” Davin said, surprise evident in his eyes. “What are you talking about? What message?”

Maeve’s mind went back to the recorded message left by Richard, her late husband, whom she’d grieved for since they had escaped Earth, leaving him behind. Hearing his message had shattered her world so completely, it nearly drove her insane with rage, confusion, and helplessness. The man she loved had betrayed her. If she told Davin what she learned, it would destroy him. He’d idolized his father since birth, and she could not bear to thrust such horrible revelations upon him.

Then again, Davin already knew something had happened to cause her to run screaming from the ship. And he wouldn’t let up until he found out what it was. If she refused to tell him, it would only make him angry with her, and if there was one thing in the universe she couldn’t bear, that was it.

She reached over and grasped Davin tightly by the hand. “Dav, what I’m about to tell you is ... well, it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to say. And I worry that when you hear it, it will do to you what it did to me. I don’t want to keep this from you, but I don’t want to hurt you either. So I give you the choice: stay and hear it, or go wait outside. Which is it to be?”

He didn’t even hesitate. “Mom, I was just a kid when I watched our world get taken away from us. It was terrible, but I got through it because of you and Dad. Are you telling me this is worse than that?”

“Yes.” Her face creased in sadness. “Because this involves your father.”

Davin stood up and crossed to the window, oblivious to the five pairs of eyes watching him. He stared out at nothing in particular, his hands clenching and unclenching as he made up his mind. Maeve was grateful that neither Kelia nor the Council interrupted.

Finally, he turned to face her, and just for a moment, he looked more mature than she ever remembered seeing him. It was as if he’d taken the next step to adulthood right in front of her. “Mom, if he did something bad, I want to know about it. I need to know about it.” He pointed out the window at the village. “This situation we’re in ... we’re knee-deep in shite, but at least we’re together. If what Kelia says about what’s coming is true, then we can’t have this hanging over our heads.”

Maeve stood, strode to him and put her hand on his shoulder. “Dav, once I tell you this, there’s no going back.” Her brow crinkled in concern. “Be. Very. Sure.”

He nodded, almost imperceptibly. “I’m sure, Mom.”

“Ahem,” said Kelia, who seemed to be struggling to not show her impatience.

Davin resumed his seat, and Maeve addressed the Council. “As Kelia told you, I am a retired Space Corps pilot. I am also a combat veteran, trained in many forms of weaponry, strategy, and warfare. I chose this path because, all my life, I wanted to protect people. People I cared about. When Earth was invaded ...” She paused as a cold shiver danced up her spine, causing her to tremble. “There was nothing I could do. All our technology, all our allies, all the planets that made up the glorious Terran Confederation,”—she brought her arm in a horizontal, sweeping motion, snapping her fingers—“lost. It only took three months to go from our first Jegg sighting to the Confederation’s total surrender.”

She took a deep breath, choosing her words carefully. “Several years ago, a mysterious being who called himself Banikar appeared to my husband, Richard. I don’t know much about him, only that he belongs to an immortal race, known as the Eth, that exists outside of our dimension. He appeared to Richard, and told him of this world. Elystra.”

The Councilors’ eyes went wide. So did Kelia’s. She had their full attention.

“Banikar told Richard that there was an energy source on this planet that would help us defeat the Jegg. So for two years, that was our mission: to come here and get it. However, right before we were supposed to leave Earth, our base was attacked. Only I, Davin, and an engineer named Gaspar were on the ship at the time. Sadly, Gaspar was killed during our escape, but Davin and I were determined to complete the mission, so two weeks ago, we landed in the mountains and started digging.”

“This much we know,” said Katura. “So you say you’ve never met this ... Banikar yourself?”

“No,” Maeve replied. “He only ever appeared to Richard. It sounded crazy, him talking about a glowing extra-dimensional being, but we followed his instructions anyway. What I didn’t know was that Banikar’s relationship with Richard went back much, much farther than that.”

Davin stared at her, glassy-eyed.

“Banikar’s race, if what I heard is true, is not the only immortal race involved. This other race, whoever they are, are apparently locked in some kind of ... game with the Eth.”

“Game?” asked Kelia.

“Yes. And for want of a better analogy, they use mortal races as their game pieces. Every bit of advice Banikar gave Richard was intended to manipulate him, to turn him into the person he was. It was Richard’s part in this game to become an engineer and build the ship we would escape Earth in.” She felt a river of bitterness creep into her voice. “Oh, and him meeting me, marrying me, and having a son with me ... that was all part of the same game. All so we could find a way to beat the Jegg who, by the way, are the pieces of whoever this other player is.”

Davin slapped his hands over his mouth. His face had gone chalk-white, and his leg was twitching as he took in the news.

“And you didn’t know any of this?” Liana asked.

“Not until two days ago,” Maeve said. “Richard pre-recorded a message for me to watch at the exact moment we were preparing to leave. He told me he knew about the Jegg invasion before it happened. He knew your world was called Elystra, which was something he couldn’t possibly have learned on his own. He knew about the Stone.” She turned to Kelia, whose mouth hung open. “He knew about you, Kelia. He called you by name.”

Kelia, too, was trembling, and she staggered over to her chair before she fell over. “Great Arantha,” she whispered, her hand moving to her temple.

Maeve turned back to the Council. “I know you have questions. So do I. Tons of them. I wish I had the answers. I wish I knew why all this is happening. I wish I knew why this world is so important. I wish I knew what ‘winning’ this farking game means, and I wish to God in heaven that I knew what to do next.” She shrugged. “But I don’t.”

She stepped toward the Council until she stood only a few yards away. “I’m no saint, that’s for damn sure. I’m just a soldier. I’m tired and I’m desperate and I’m in way, way over my head. But until I figure out what’s really going on—assuming I ever do—I am with you. Like it or not, I’m part of this game. If I can be sure of only one thing, it’s that I’m here for a reason: to help you. And I give you my word that I will do everything in my power to do that.”

She looked into each Councilor’s eyes, one by one. “I failed to protect those I care about back on Earth, and it’s been eating me up inside ever since. There’s nothing I could’ve done to change their fate. This, however, I can change. Elystra is my home now. The Ixtrayu are my people. Whatever destructive force Kelia envisioned, let it come. I can’t promise you victory, as my own Wielding abilities are still in a fledgling state; however, I have a great teacher.” She looked over her shoulder at Kelia, who nodded. “And when this war comes, I pledge my life and my blood to defend the Ixtrayu.”

Dead silence reigned. The Council exchanged more worried glances. Kelia’s breath was a shallow rasp as she took it all in. Davin had his elbows on his legs, his face buried in his hands.

She pulled him out of his chair, moved his hands from his tear-stained face and hugged him. He buried his face in her shoulder and squeezed her so hard she found it difficult to breathe, but she said nothing.

“Mom ...” he sobbed.

“I know, Dav, I know,” she soothed, using one hand to rub his back. She was there for him, first and foremost. Nothing would ever change that. “I need you to be strong right now, not for yourself, but for me. You are my strength. I can’t do this alone.”

At that moment, Maeve felt the adrenaline rush caused by her nervousness abate, and the pins-and-needles sensation in her legs returned. Her knees buckled, and thankfully Davin was right there to hold her up. Turning her around, he lowered her gingerly into her seat.

After a long, awkward pause, Katura stood up, clasping her hands together as she stepped away from her chair. “Well, Maeve, it would appear the Council, and the Protectress, have much to discuss. Would you mind returning to the Room of Healing while we deliberate?”

Maeve glanced at Kelia, who had also risen to her feet. She nodded, giving Maeve a smile that seemed to dissolve any remaining vestiges of their disagreement. Their destinies were now inextricably linked.

Her mind returned to their tandem flight, and their kiss. She expected to feel a twinge of guilt over the memory, just as before, but she didn’t.