Chapter 53
The Council session dissolved after Request's intervention: not even Blind wanted to continue with that tragedy hanging over them. Which was good, because Maya would not have stayed whilst what remained of her Acolytes cooled miles away.
Once the Councillors had all left, and Maya's throat had stopped aching, she said, “Take me to them.”
Request, her brown eyes sunk deep, looked up from her seat in the corridor and nodded slowly. She'd had time to process what had happened but was still shaking, fragile, and broken. It would be much harder on her, a witness to the death of a generation of Acolytes.
Disc, Tie, Press... They had shown such potential. They were the first class to truly embrace Cyrus Force, the first to understand what could be done with it. Their imaginations and creativity had gone wild. Maya had learned from them, taken ideas for deploying her own powers. They would have been such heroes...
Maya felt the pain, the hurt, threaten to overwhelm her. She fought it back with a coughing fit, then stood and gestured with her sword for Request to follow her.
Aureu shone beneath them, her veins lit by lanterns and street lamps, as they stepped out onto a balcony. It was an overcast night, yet warm and still. A breeze played with Maya's robes and hair. Just as with Draw's Folly, she was struck by the world’s indifference to tragedy, how it barrelled along without her students.
Request ran past her and leapt from the balcony. Viscous Cyrus Force wrapped around her arms in spirals, forming two bat wings. The energy flowed along her back and created a Disciple-like engine that gave her momentum, allowed her to shoot away and over the city limits.
Maya had some catching up to do. She repeated her mantra three times, then formed fiery wings and a fin to reduce air friction before jumping too, diving to gain speed. Her wings flexed at the last moment, shooting her through Sol's Haven.
Aureu disappeared behind them, their shining Cyrus Force was the only light in an overcast night. There shouldn't be too many awake this late into the night, so hopefully their journey wouldn't cause too much trouble. Particularly as they would return soon. She hoped the Gangs would be quiet.
Ten minutes later, Request and Maya slammed into an unclaimed field north of the Great Road. There was little around but farms, making it quiet and still. The site of the attack had been visible from the sky: a charred, blackened patch with the remains of a carriage smouldering nearby. When Maya breathed in, she smelled charred meat and smoke, strong enough to taste.
Request fell to her knees. Her Spirit, Ink, wrapped its liquid form around her.
“Applekill, Mission, look around,” she said to her Spirits. Both appeared, Applekill with her burns and Mission with his icy form. They nodded and separated, picking over the area for her.
Maya needed to interview the only witness. “Tell me what happened.”
Request sighed. Maya didn't need to read emotions to see the heartache and sadness swaddling her. “I went... I went to the gutter. Sol, if I hadn't had a full bladder, that would have been me as well! I would have... just burned up, disappeared in flame. Fuck. Fucking fuck.”
“Focus, Request.”
“No, you focus,” she shouted, standing. “I just watched three friends die! They were blown to pieces! You have no idea what I'm going through.”
Maya stepped forward and put her hand on Request's shoulder. “I have watched friends die, and I have been to blame for their deaths. I know what you're going through better than you think. But I need you to hold it together, tell us what happened, so we can destroy whatever caused this.”
Request took a step back, her eyes wide.
“What?” Maya asked.
“I... Sorry, I must be seeing things.”
Maya frowned. Then Applekill called, “Is everything okay, Maya?”
“We're fine,” Request shouted back.
Applekill watched them for a few seconds before returning to the carriage.
“So. What happened after you went to the gutter?” Maya asked.
“Disc found a trunk on the carriage, something he didn't recognise. He's... Sol, he was so curious, so open. I was just returning when he asked me to guess what was inside. Tie and Press were right by him, sorting dinner. Then he opened the trunk and... fire, an explosion. I was knocked back, a strong, warm wind. And when I stood... there was nothing left of them. They were gone, like someone had just taken them.”
Maya embraced Request, and the girl broke down. She usually fought emotions like this, being a street kid, but even her defences couldn't handle remembering what she'd seen. Maya stroked Request’s hair, held her tight. Request didn't allow herself to vent for long: she pulled back, wiped her eyes on her plain clothes.
“This trunk, what did it look like?” Maya asked.
“It was maybe a foot high,” Request said, looking up as she remembered. “Made of a light wood, with brass handles. I wasn't close enough to see more of it.”
Maya froze, her chest a solid object that barely allowed her to breathe. Through her solid throat, she wheezed, “Did this trunk have a symbol carved into its lid?”
“Erm... yeah, Disc mentioned something about that. Why?”
The world fell further and further away. Her lips were miles from her consciousness as she made sure of her suspicions: “Was it an 'M'? Was there an 'M' carved into the lid?”
“It was, actually, yeah.”
Maya turned away, put her hand to her mouth.
“Maya?”
She debated whether to explain what she felt, what she thought, but decided she would have to share. “I recognise that trunk,” she said, feeling small. “That was my trunk.”
“What?! What do you mean?”
“I... I've been to so many fancy dinners, eaten with so many well-paid cooks, that I've lost my ability to appreciate simpler food,” Maya said, her words rushing out. “It's the only indulgence I allow myself as a Councillor. So when I was arranging this trip, I sent a trunk off to be filled with spice. That was my surprise for you, fantastic food for a fortnight. When I cancelled the trip, I didn't even think about it... It must have stayed on the carriage.”
Request’s turned away, her eyes searching the world. “Maya... this was an attempt on your life?”
She didn't want it to be. Damn, but she didn't want it to be. Not for herself, but for what it would mean for Geos that someone would go after the Acolyte Councillor. But what other conclusion was there? The trunk was meant to be her surprise, so Maya would have been the first to open it had she gone on the trip. That explosion, all of this destructive force, was meant for her.
In a way, she was shocked at how much this surprised and hurt her: she'd been in many battles, had many things try to kill her, so she should be used to murderous hate. But those had been robots, creations, not people. This bomb, this assassination attempt, had to have been made by people. Someone in Aureu, someone she had risked her life for dozens of times, had tried to kill her.
“Sol,” Request said, filling Maya’s silence, “do you realise what this means? There’s only one way something like this could happen: there are Disciple agents in Aureu.”
“The... the Council have speculated that could be the case,” Maya admitted, her voice a small whisper. The investigations into Buckle, into what Chain had found, were still ongoing, but most were convinced of Contegon Justicar’s reports. No one outside of Buckle or the Council knew this yet, though, so she had to cover her conclusion. “Most of Call's population is still missing from the Second Invasion: it's been theorised that they could have been turned to the Disciple cause.”
“Fuck. Fuck! And they tried to kill you? But got my friends instead?!”
“I'm... I'm so sorry Request. If I'd been here, maybe–”
Request shoved her. “No, don't you make this about you, Maya. If you'd been here, maybe I would have been standing next to you. Maybe you would have gathered us all around to look at your spices, and we'd all have been destroyed. Don't make this about
you. Make it about them.”
“You're right. Damn, you're right. I'm sorry, I... This just brings...” Maya took a deep breath, closed her eyes. “The implications of this are almost as disturbing as the tragedy itself.”
“Maya?” Applekill said.
“Yeah?”
The Spirit held handfuls of charred materials. Maya leant forward: they were bones and teeth. “There are few remains. I've sorted what I could find as best I could by the vestiges of Sol's Gift.”
Request sobbed. “That would be Disc and Tie. Press was on the other side when the explosion went off, would have been blown–”
She pointed over, and saw Maya’s other Spirit, Mission, approaching with more dark matter in his palms. Tall and lithe, he approached and said, “This is all I could find. They are the remains of an Acolyte.”
“At.. at least we can... at least we have something to hold a Pyre–” Request broke down, unable to finish her sentence. Maya and Ink enveloped her as she tumbled into her pain, howling, wailing and falling limp.
“There was nothing else?” Maya asked, her own tears blocking her vision.
“Nothing,” Applekill and Mission said together.
Sadness gripped her like a vice, and did not let go until her eyes, nose, and throat were raw. Together, the Acolytes gave voice to their pain.