7. Maeve

7

Maeve

S omething stirred in the air, and Maeve turned her head toward it. She?—

We

—could sense there was something amiss.

Yet, they were close. So close. It could not possibly be what they suspected—they had been assured there would be no further disturbances, not until her transformation was complete. It had to complete. There was so much at stake.

The Nyx queen had opened up her mind and was pouring everything she was into Maeve. The history of the Nyx she could see in her mind's eye, just as before when they were going through her own memories. And every single one of those entwined with the Nyx collective, until it was difficult to tell where one started and the other ended.

She saw her father—Ankou—through the eyes of the queen. How terrible he had seemed, crushing everything that she had ever cared for. Maeve witnessed their narrow escape, her and one other and how, tumbling through the worlds, the Queen had resolved to begin again. To find a way to carry on.

Only, she had been wounded. Gravely. And despite that she had been here, on the Realms, for millennia, it was a flash compared to their immortal nature. She, one of the youngest, had been older than civilizations. The other chose a different world.

Maeve's chest ached with longing for creatures she had never met, for a life she had never led, and each heartbeat increased her connection to the queen. Further enmeshed their souls.

She could sense the purpose of the Nyx building within her, fueling her. And there was something moving through her body, her bloodstream, that was changing her.

Maeve became suddenly more aware of her surroundings, but only because of a commotion at the far side of the massive chamber. Lifting her head, Maeve saw in the dark better than ever before because?—

He is here.

Dozens of balls of flame like lanterns were flowing from one of the entrances to the cavern, scattering Nyx before the growing illumination like a wave receding from shore.

The Queen's attention on Maeve slackened momentarily as she sent commands to the fleeing horde to attack, to kill the intruders at any cost. They had only been operating on instinct, but at the Queen's command the intention of the Nyx horde honed razor-sharp.

Maeve pulled in a harsh breath, jerking against the grip on her arms and torso. The Queen had hold of her. Had since Ninack left the chamber some time before. Tendrils wrapped around her body from chest to ankle, encasing her. Smaller, needle-like tubes punctured the skin of her left arm. She could see that now, but it did not hurt.

In fact, she felt—good. Better than.

That gave her pause, made her pull back from the sorrow heavy inside of her as she witnessed all the original Nyx had endured. She had empathy for their plight, yes, but… what of all the lives they have taken? She could sense their hunger, all these who had been changed. They wanted to make more like them. To continue to grow, to become more. They wanted to consume worlds, as had been the purpose of the Queen long before.

She could not?—

We can , the Queen spoke in her mind. We will. Our destiny is to be eternal. To be all.

Light was growing, and Maeve could hear shouting. The sound of battle. An arrow with familiar fletching sank deep into one of the Nyx closest to her, and she cried out as it fell. A part of her could sense every death. They were being meted out by the dozens. Every one like a prick to her skin.

It was so hard to focus as the Queen renewed her attentions, and more and more memories were being shoved into Maeve, but she could not close her eyes. Not stop seeing everything before her?—

Maeve jerked at the Queen's hold again, something inside of her screaming she had to get away, that now was her chance, the final one.

More arrows, and more fallen Nyx. Someone called her name.

Recognizing the voice, and knowing she was here made Maeve struggle all the harder, ripping free from the hold of the Nyx queen with a spray of dark blood, her left arm in tatters.

Something else, high above, shrieked down, shaking the very foundations of the cavern and causing a shower of droplets like rain to fall. Maeve was ripping at the living tendrils encompassing her torso, breaking fingernails in her attempt to escape.

No, no, you are to become us. We are you , the Queen, the Nyx, screamed in her head.

Maeve covered her ears, but it did not block out the thousands of voices crying out for her. Begging her to stay.

But then Jen screamed again, this time in pain, and Maeve's eyes snapped open.

The group of them were perhaps fifty yards away, battling heavily against the wave of Nyx coming toward them. Arcs of fire spread from the hands of one she found most difficult to look at, her breath catching, and the illumination from that fire sent Nyx scattering back, their skin bubbling and bursting with black ichor.

She saw the rest in a snapshot. Troy loosing an arrow, face severe with concentration. Jen holding her dagger up to a guard position, her other arm bleeding, staining the leathers in crimson. Nath and Lizette were there, as well, back-to-back with sword and dagger both in hand.

They came for me , the core of her whispered.

The Nyx queen shrieked again, and something slammed down from the ceiling, scattering Nyx and throwing back the party that had fought so hard to get close to Maeve. The moment that enormous thing moved, the bonds on her slackened, and she stumbled out of them, tripping as feeling came rushing back to her tired limbs.

And she felt—wrong. Cavernously hollow, yet bursting with thought and memory that did not belong to her, the pressing weight of thousands of Nyx minds. All those the Queen had twisted into being out of the children of the Realms and the monsters of Attica.

"Jen," she tried to cry, but her throat was rough, her mouth so dry, that no sound escaped. She could hear the others, the ringing sound of metal weapons against the hard carapaces of the Nyx. She stumbled again, fell to her knees, and then staggered upright.

Someone shouted out a warning. "Cover your eyes!"

Maeve did not, and was blinded a moment later when the room filled with the light of a noon-day sun. But before she closed her eyes against the glare, she saw—all of them. The Nyx, tens of thousands, swarming in from every entrance that ringed the vast cavern, flooding up the walls and ceiling. And high above, suspended like some sickening amalgam of predatorial sea creature and living darkness, was the Nyx queen herself. Rows and rows of razor teeth twisted above, but what was most frightening was the utter size of her.

She took up the entire chamber, stretching across the ceiling with anchored limbs like tree trunks along the walls. She screamed, black eyes full of venom as they focused on the rescue party.

Maeve could sense what was to come, the link between them telegraphing intent. The Queen meant to destroy her rescuers.

No, not Jen , Maeve pleaded toward her. You can't hurt her .

They are not us. They are our enemy , the Nyx Queen retorted.

The light was burning them, the ones closest to the source scattering into ash. It was moving toward Maeve, and on instinct she did the same, feeling the growing terror and rage from the Queen in her mind.

The light was beginning to fade and spots were across her vision when someone cried out, "Maeve!" from nearby—so near she startled, turning toward that familiar voice, and found?—

Eyes the twin of her own. Gold and black speckled with stars. A gaze that tracked down her body, then gloved hands snatched at her right wrist, and the silver bracelet cuffed there dissolved into smoke.

Sensation flooded through her. Power, and— oh, gods, she thought, her knees going weak. What have I done?

The Nyx were still present in her mind, and they shrieked at the touch of the bond, but then tried to rush toward it, intent once more on utter annihilation.

Maeve clamped the connection down tight, not letting anything through, though it felt like cutting off a piece of herself. You won't touch him! She screamed mentally, reaching out a hand to catch Rodan by the collar of his armor, despite the pain of her fingers, she clutched at him. The moment she did, she felt the build of magic in the air, and he reached for her, grasping her by the waist and hauling her against his body.

"We're getting you out of here," he said, his voice so low as to be almost a growl.

"Jen—" she said, her voice a croak.

"I'm here," Jen said, panting as she took hold of Rodan's arm. "The others are coming. The closer we get to her, the less they attack."

The Queen let out a bellowing cry, and the cavern shook so hard that Lizette and Nath crashed into them, propelled forward by stumbling steps.

Troy was last, reaching out to grasp Rodan by the shoulder.

Maeve had a moment for a flash of regret, rolling her gaze up to the ceiling, at the Queen whose steaming black blood was raining down on the cavern, hissing as it hit the raw stone floor, screamed in frustration, unable to attack without hurting Maeve.

She's dying , Maeve thought once more. And I helped kill her.

No! You will be us, you will become us, you will ?—

I won't, Maeve shot back, a moment before Rodan's grip tightened in preparation. You made a mistake.

The creature's cry was cut off as, a breath later, there was a tug on her naval and the sensation of falling. An instant more and they hit solid ground, Nath swearing as he stumbled to the side, favoring one leg. Jen was heaving, Troy holding her shoulders and rubbing her back, and then?—

There was a cry of triumph, and cheering rose from at least a dozen throats.

"Queen Maeve has returned!" Lizette gasped, her chest still heaving from the exertion of the fight, stepping away from Rodan.

Maeve only had eyes for one person. The one whose grip she was still held in, his gaze pinning her to the spot. The way he was looking at her made her almost queasy, because there was something there she did not understand yet. A heaviness.

And there were still thousands of voices in her mind, even though they seemed further away, and the weight of years, of knowledge, of so many memories…

Pike thumped her on the back, then cried out, "Your arm! Gods!"

She looked down, noticing the tearing holes where the Nyx had been pumping her body full of the gods only knew what, and where her nails had split down the center, some having fallen off completely. It looked as though something with massive claws had shredded her, skin hanging open and bone showing white through some of it, and yet she felt little pain. Blood dripped, dropped on the carpet. Her heart thrummed, and there was no sensation.

"I must attend to our queen," Rodan said, his voice full of that strange weight. Her attention snapped back to him, and he gave her the slightest smile. "Thank you all for your assistance."

There was another tug low in Maeve's stomach, and the room seemed to dissolve and shift around them, until she and Rodan were standing alone in her private bedchamber.

"They're hurt," she said, her voice roughened with misuse. "We have to?—"

"I left them activated healing potions before I left," he said softly. He did not let her go, but the doors swung shut on the chamber and she heard the locks engage. He lifted a goblet which had suddenly materialized to her lips. "Your arm."

She let him tip the concoction into her mouth, her hands still not obeying her commands fully. She watched him all the while, and he her. There was a warm rush of magic, and she sensed the healing sweep through her body. She let out a sigh of relief, flexing her fingers. Her skin was still streaked with blood, but there were no more wounds. Her fingernails were whole and shining.

"I did not know you could transport like that," she said quietly, still unused to speaking.

"I can transport myself and others now. When we were in the trials, many of my abilities were stifled. And there is much that has changed. Maeve," her name was like a plea on his lips. "I can sense the bond, but it's shut tight."

She drew in a breath and pushed from him, stepping away. "They did something to me, Rodan. I can still feel them in here," she tilted her head, trying to block out the seething mass of the Nyx even as she spoke. "I don't want it to hurt you. They're going to try."

"Oh, my love," he said, drawing her full attention once more. "I have been through death's domain and spent so much time parted from you, thinking you beyond my reach. The only thing that wounds me now is being kept from you."

Looking at him hurt her heart, but she forced herself to really take him in. There was something very different about him, and she still could not pinpoint what it was, or where it had come from. He seemed—more. More muscled, and with a thrum of power she could sense through her renewed links with her magic he had never exhibited before. His armor dissolved, leaving just the undershirt and trousers he had worn with it, gloves and boots still on. The sweat from battle made the fabric stick to him, and she swallowed hard.

Definitely more definition than before.

"You're still hurt," he said, stepped close and reaching toward her, the goblet brimming with the bitter potion that would speed her healing. She took it from him and drank deep, grimacing a little as the sour taste coated her tongue. "Drink more," Rodan urged. "It can help with more than just our physical ills. Your magic is…" he hesitated, then whispered, "Please let me in, Maeve."

Taking in the rest of the potion to keep herself from having to answer right away, Maeve held the goblet out. "Water?" Her throat still felt dry, though it no longer ached and burned the way it had. The potion had healed even those minor hurts.

It filled with clear water, and she drank down two of them before stopping with a gasp. All the while, Rodan stood near. Near enough to touch, though he did not. Other than grabbing her to transport her, he had not taken any liberties. She was grateful for it, and yet yearned for the contact that her body still remembered so well.

He had always been good about this. Letting her make the final move. He would dance and flirt and telegraph his intentions, but he would not cross that final line unless he knew, for certain, she was with him.

That was one of the reasons she loved him.

"If I open the bond, they might come through."

"I'm stronger now, Maeve. I can help." He stepped close enough she could smell more than just the fresh scent of battle about him. Sandalwood and clean woodsmoke. "Just let me in."

Closing her eyes, Maeve focused on the bond, sealed tight and buried deep within her. It took some small amount of effort to unearth it, but she did just that, and then let the doorway open. Slight, at first, hesitating as she felt the attention of the Nyx horde from some very distant part of her.

But then— oh, I'd forgotten .

Sensation flooded through her, making her knees weak, and Maeve opened eyes brimming with tears as she was filled with his love, more than anything. Love and longing so profound it made the tears fall in tracks down her cheeks.

She let her love for him do the same, flowing through the bond toward him so he smiled, flashing teeth.

Maeve reached for him, tossing the empty goblet aside to one of the long couches, and his hand met hers partway, his still encased in the leather gloves he'd worn to fight the Nyx. She tugged it off, whimpering in her sudden need to be touched and, then?—

Gods , she prayed as his naked hand palmed her face, smearing her tears. She drew even closer, and sensed something coming through the bond as she did she had never felt before. It was Rodan, but it was different. Changed. Power the likes of which she had never sensed from him thrummed through her, golden light spinning off him, as though he were shedding it, and it was intent on one thing.

"Do you want the Nyx gone?" he asked, his voice rough with something she did not want to name yet. "I can bind them."

She gazed up, pressing his hand harder to her face with her own. "What happened to you?"

"I have been unbound," he said, and his breath hitched. "My father delivered you to the Nyx, and then he took me to his world. I remained for nearly three years in that hellscape, which passed in hours here on the Realms. I only escaped because—" he swallowed hard and his other hand, still gloved, came up to bracket her face. "I finally felt you. For an instant, I felt you, and I knew you were still alive. I knew I had to find you."

Sorrow and grief washed through her at his words. His own, shared through the bond. She gripped his wrists. "Get rid of them," she said, before she could hesitate. A part of her quailed, wanting to help the creatures who, through no fault of their own, were part of a race of monsters. With the Queen gone, she could have guided them, perhaps. Could have found some way to salvage the species, to turn them from Ninack. But, "I only want you."

His smile was brilliant as a flash of lightning, there and gone, and then power flowed through her, filling her in ways that had her shuddering, closing her eyes as he did his work.

It was over almost instantly, and then Maeve only sensed Rodan. Nothing but him.

Her eyes opened to find him staring at her still, as though he could not take his gaze from her. "I thought you were dead," he said again. "I thought the only way I would see you again would be to die." A tremble went through him, and Maeve sensed his exhaustion, and realized with a quick check that he had not slept in what amounted to weeks. "Is that what it was like, for you? That there was no other acceptable option then to die?"

Maeve went still, thinking back to all the times the pills had been too much a roaring temptation, to take just a little more, and more, until she knew how it would end. How much she had looked forward to it, then. An end to the pain. "Yes," she whispered. "Rodan, I'm right here. You're okay."

A crackle of energy through their link, and his expression crumpled, pressing his forehead to hers. "I've never—it was like nothing I've ever had to endure. Maeve," he moaned her name. "I never thought I'd touch you again."

"You can. You are." She slid her arms around his neck, pulling him down further and capturing his mouth, the shocking force of the kiss enough to make her gasp.

Once that shock had worn, however, Rodan was kissing her back. There was an edge of desperation, as though he wished to press harder, take more, but he was gentle. Thorough, but there was a sensitivity to his touch that made her realize he had seen or sensed some of what had passed between her and the Nyx.

That, and his body was sagging.

So Maeve took care of him the same way he had often taken care of her. Helped him bathe, steadying him when he would have slipped, propping most of his weight against her shoulder and side. She helped him dry, then rolled him into bed before dousing the lamps and curling up against him. Rodan had already slipped into sleep, but startled awake the moment she touched him, and pulled her closer.

She lay a kiss against his fresh-scented skin, tracing the scar over his heart with her fingertips. "I love you, Rodan," she whispered. "And I'm so sorry."

His voice was thick with exhaustion, rumbling under her ear. "For what?"

"That I succumbed," she said back, not raising her voice. "That I said yes." His grip tightened on her, and she went on. "Are you angry with me?"

"No," he murmured, and she knew he was only moments away from losing consciousness. "But my father can rot."

Sleep claimed him.

Maeve waited some time more, trying and failing for her own rest, before slipping from the bed. Rodan murmured but did not wake, curling around the warm spot she had left. Smiling back at him, she padded to a desk at one corner where she lit a small lamp with a minor push of power.

Taking out ink pen and paper, Maeve began to write.