Maia and the Secrets of Zagran (The Lightbound Saga Book 2)

by S. G. Basu

  “How’s Gibbon?” Ren inquired about Bikele’s snub-nosed dolphin.

  “He’s fine,” Bikele replied with a chuckle. “Threw quite some tantrum when he figured I won’t be bringing him along for today’s meeting. He’s an old guy with strong opinions, and he doesn’t like to be told what to do.”

  Kusha smiled happily after Bikele had left. “We do have hope then,” he said. “I didn’t even dream of any support after what we pulled the other night.”

  “I’m glad they have decided to get some security down there,” Nafi muttered thoughtfully. “I do not trust those Xifarians.”

  “I’m sorry.” Ren turned away. There was a sense of despair in his voice that Maia had never heard before. It was heartbreaking in its loneliness.

  “Ren!” Nafi exclaimed as she grabbed his arm and tried to turn him around to face her. “I didn’t mean you, I—”

  “It’s okay, Nafi.” Ren looked her squarely in the eye. “I know you didn’t, but I’m sorry anyway. I wish I could stop this.”

  “It is not your fault, Ren,” Maia emphasized every word. “And every chance you got, you helped our cause. You’ve always done the right thing.”

  “I know,” Ren replied morosely. “I only wish that choosing the right didn’t mean going against my own people.”

  “It’s not always easy.” Dani slipped an arm over his shoulders. “You know what Hans says? That people we know and love often have different ideas and opinions and they might not always want the same things we do. He says what’s important is that we know and choose the right things for ourselves. I think he’s correct: we have to pick the path that rings true to us, even when people we know and love might consider it wrong.”

  “She’s right, you know,” Maia chimed in. “And you will always be our friend. We can never think of you as anything else.”

  Ren had just smiled a little when Kusha came forward, caught him by the shoulders, and dragged him away.

  “Stop being so overly melodramatic, you know better than that,” Kusha said as the two took off toward their workspace. “We have plenty of work to finish. Get back to work, everyone.”

  53: The GeiFonz Challenge

  Bazillion assignments crammed into each day, a pair of relentless trainers, and a still-vigilant Aerika made the last month fly by in the blink of an eye. There were converters to be tested and prepared for installation, extended hours at the upkeep lessons, and lastly, the long practice trips to the GeiFonz Icecap.

  It was arduous, exhausting, and simply a torture to make the trip all the way from Zagran to the ice shelf. The first time Maia tried the journey, there was hardly any strength left in her to make the return trip back to Zagran—riding through the cold water drained her body of its energy very quickly. However, with every other trial that followed, her endurance improved. Yet, when Aerika stopped by to announce the details of the second and final challenge, panic held her heart and mind in its icy grip.

  “I am here to announce your second and final challenge—the GeiFonz Challenge. Your primary goal is to install the mini hydrosol converter that you have been building, in your assigned space at the GeiFonz Icecap. After you have completed that task, you will make your way to the Karnilian Caves—that is your secondary goal. You will be expected to arrive at the caves before installation of Converter 9203 begins. You will make these trips with your aquatic partners, of course. You will be tracked on remote monitors, as well as followed by a supervising craft.

  “Remember, you will not be evaluated simply on your speed, but your efficiency as well. We will note how well you manage your rides—how you guide them and use them while being perceptive of their needs. We will also examine the micro converters you have constructed and grade you on how competently you install them.”

  Aerika paused, her appraising gaze sweeping over the silent assembly.

  “You will be allowed to carry your weapons with you, but we expect you to complete this exercise in peace.”

  Maia and her teammates had scarcely huddled together to discuss the challenge when Palak and Dill marched to the center of the room.

  “We need each team to elect an installer,” Palak announced. “This person will install the hydrosols from start to finish. This person will have to have an extremely steady hand and an equally steady ride. The embedding process is simple, yet delicate and long. It is crucial that the converter takes root. The ice shelf is covered with a thin metal substrate, a film that holds and conducts the energy generated by these converters. The lead circuit from the converter has to be embedded right down to the bottom of this substrate. The slightest instability will destroy the alignment of the circuits. Until the embedding is complete, the installer cannot budge. If the installer moves, the process will be disrupted, the implantation will be terminated, and the converter will remain a lifeless piece of metal.”

  “So, pick your installer with care,” Dill added, “for this person has to complete the intricate task while enduring the cold and the intense water pressure with steadiness.”

  Maia did not have to think—the choice was easy. Dani was by far the one with the most experience in the waters and she had skills to match. As soon as Maia announced her pick, the rest agreed eagerly. Dani accepted the responsibility with a gracious smile. That did not mean everyone else was free of tasks. Dani had to be supported in the process, which meant many more hours of practice to be completed with their rides and the routes memorized. Maia felt slightly overwhelmed; this was a journey of incredible proportions, every step was critical, and the planning needed to be more than accurate.

  ***

  The day of the final challenge started as ordinarily as ever. Maia wondered why the contest and its outcome suddenly felt distant and small. Maybe because she had become used to the burden of these challenges, or maybe recent events had stressed her too much. She walked in a daze, and after the usual jaunt to the RC, she headed to Dill’s classroom with her teammates. Their swimming partners had already assembled in the dive bay. The fifteen remaining teams gathered around the pool and prepared quietly for the journey ahead. Everyone looked solemn; Maia could not find a trace of cheer on any of the faces.

  In addition to the tools and hardware needed for the installation, the contestants carried their weapons. They also received special communicator devices that would enable them to speak to each other under water. The diving gear was different for this challenge as well, equipped to auto-adjust to the vast pressure variations from the near-surface ice packs to the cave in the abyss.

  The groups set off one at a time. Maia and her team had practiced the journey a few times, and she was confident they would do well. But still, Maia knew the enormity of the risks ahead; the slightest mistakes could possibly hurt them a lot before any help could arrive. And suddenly, the fear was back and Maia’s heart fluttered wildly.

  The waters were cold that day. The sun must have been hidden behind clouds, since there was no sparkle or warmth seeping into the endless blue. The chill made its way in through the thick leathery water gear, numbing Maia’s bones as she dipped into the sea with Keiki. She clasped Bellator’s hilt and braced herself. Chylomyhrra led the way—she skimmed the edge of the Intercontinental Cold, close enough to utilize its power, yet not deep inside to be engulfed by its crushing force. They were followed closely by the rest of the team, with Dani sweeping the tail end of their little procession. It was interesting to note how the group of riding partners had learned to work as a team—all the creatures followed Chylomyhrra in a neat line, as if understanding the graveness of this particular journey.

  They reached the GeiFonz Icecap as planned and in time. Dani settled into their cove, balancing steadily on Mikoo’s back. Nafi hovered next to her, ready with her supplies of instruments and equipment. The remaining three watched from a distance as Dani carefully placed the first converter on the gray metal base. The substrate glowed to life as she started working, placing layers together, joining and fusing intricate pieces with patience.
The process was about halfway complete when a most gut-wrenching noise made them jump. It was mix of a wail and a shout, going on loud and strong without showing any intention of dying down. And then it stopped as abruptly as it had started. Dani looked at her teammates, and even through the visor of her breathing apparatus, Maia could tell her eyes had clouded with worry. As she stared at Dani, Maia wondered what to do.

  Dani broke the silence—her voice came over the communicator. “It’s an alarm. On my Urso. Someone needs to check it for me.”

  “Alarm?” Maia cried anxiously.

  “Pull it out, Maia,” Dani instructed, nodding at her pocket in which her messenger device was securely strapped.

  Maia pulled the flat silver device as steadily as she could and held it out for Dani.

  “Read it,” she instructed again. “I can’t take my eyes or hands off the installation.”

  The message that blinked on the tiny screen in bold red letters was from Hans. It was precise and urgent.

  Trouble. Caves. Galley. Hans.

  “Caves?” Ren asked after Maia had read the message aloud. “What’s this about? What cave?”

  “I . . . don’t know,” Dani replied, her voice trembling. She was clearly shaken by the message. “Must be the Karnilian Caves. Hans was supervising some changes in the supply lines down there. Has to be the Converter Galley he’s speaking of. But I can’t help him until I’ve finished this.”

  “Will it really break everything if you go now?” Maia asked, as Dani fidgeted nervously with the complex circuits.

  “Yes, it’ll ruin everything,” Dani replied. “But it doesn’t make sense . . . why would he send an alarm? He knows I’m busy with the challenge today. And still—”

  The shrill beep sounded again. The Urso was flashing another message.

  Help please.

  Hans was in trouble for sure. Dani stifled a sob with difficulty as Maia read the message aloud, and suddenly it didn’t matter to Maia whether they completed this challenge or not—someone had to go help Dani’s brother.

  “I will go and check it out,” Maia declared. “I can head over to the caves while you finish this, Dani.”

  “You can’t just leave, we’ll be disqualified,” Nafi said. “And what will you do there anyway? We don’t even know what this is all about. He probably needs Dani there, not you.”

  “I don’t know, Nafi. Maybe he needs someone to give him a hand with something.” Maia had already eased Keiki out of the cove. “Maybe there’s some way I can help him.”

  “I’ll come with you.” Ren followed Maia outside the cove. “We might be disqualified anyway, regardless of how many of us leave. In that case, we might just as well make sure Hans has all the help we can give him.”

  They had swum out of their niche when a shout made them stop.

  “Wait up,” Kusha rushed toward them, waving wildly. “I’ll come also . . . don’t think I’m needed back there anyway.”

  The trio went flying underneath the jagged bottom of the cold white sheet of ice, following the practiced route back toward Zagran, but keeping enough room between them and the immense girth of the Intercontinental Cold so that they did not get sucked back in the opposite way. The trio reached Zagran quite quickly; Maia felt that it was too quick, almost. But they still had a long way to go—all the way down to the Karnilian Caves.

  Ren led the way, continuing past the sparkling city, and jumping onto the previously run path to the Karnilian Caves. Away from the chill of the ice packs, the waters had warmed up a bit. But the relief did not last long. As the trio sped downward toward the bottom of the seas, the waters grew darker and colder again. The lights on the top of their breathing helmets turned on automatically, illuminating a dull path ahead of them.

  “We don’t need to take our shortcut, do we?” Ren asked as they approached the mouth of the schism they had taken the last time.

  “I think it would be too dangerous without the Aqumob,” Kusha replied. “I mean, what if we hit the wall or something? We’ll be crushed and maybe lost in the darkness forever.”

  “Let’s go the regular way,” Maia insisted, remembering the experience of her last time inside the crevasse. She was not looking forward to being in that darkness, especially without having the protective shelter of the Aqumob around her.

  “All right.” Ren nodded and shot forward again, Chylomyhrra leading confidently. In the very next instant, the milk squid came to a grinding halt so abruptly that Ren barely managed to hold on. He teetered, scrambled among her tentacles, and somehow straightened himself. Then he let out a scream, a bone-chilling scream that almost stilled Maia’s heart. A little distance behind him, Kusha and Maia came to a stop, staring incredulously at the gigantic shadow that loomed ahead and grew bigger and darker with every passing moment.

  54: Close Encounters

  It was the Timiti whale. Its leathery face became slowly visible, moving closer as Chylomyhrra shrunk backward to where Kusha and Maia had frozen with fear. It looked more imposing than Maia remembered. The three of them put together would not measure up to one of its fins, Maia noted as the gigantic creature swam closer. Its movements were graceful like a predator’s, yet it did not seem to want to scare them just yet.

  “What should we do?” Ren whispered, hovering on one side of Maia.

  “Just wait and see what it wants,” Kusha replied breathlessly from her other side. “Besides, there’s no way we can outrun it.”

  The whale came nearer until it stopped within an arm’s length of the trio. Its mouth parted only slightly, as if in a smile, and its dark eyes bore into Maia’s. And then the suffocating pull Maia had felt once before snared her mind again in a crushing noose.

  She was falling down a dark staircase, along a narrow well that led to nothingness. Her life flashed through, an album of pictures streaming past. A shriek pierced her ears.

  “Run, Maia,” someone shouted.

  Keiki reared below her. A vague rush followed. Her hands slipped, someone screamed, and she fell. She grasped for something, anything that would break her fall, but found nothing. Lower and lower she sank until she hit something soft. It cradled her protectively and pulled her close. There was a rush again. An overwhelming darkness embraced her, and the waters turned unbearably cold.

  “Maia . . . Maia . . .” someone called her name repeatedly. As her mind slowly cleared, her eyesight adjusted to the surroundings. She was speeding through a dark tunnel, long and squishy arms holding her around the wrists and waist. It was Chylomyhrra’s tentacles, Maia realized. The darkness around was absolute.

  We’re inside the North Zsitanian Fissure.

  “Ren?” Maia murmured as she saw the dim outline of his face next to her. She tried to sit up straight in Chylomyhrra’s arms. “What happened?”

  “That whale did something to you, again,” Ren replied. “And as soon as you tried to get away from it, it attacked. It went straight for you, not Kusha or me. Keiki fell and so did you.”

  “What happened to Keiki?” A wave of worry rushed through Maia at the thought of her sprightly young companion.

  “The Timiti bumped into her. I last saw her spiral downward.” Ren sighed. “Sorry, all I could think of was guiding Chylomyhrra to catch you. Once she did, we dropped inside the fissure—that seemed like the only way to avoid that Timiti. Kusha took the other way down to the caves.”

  “And what if the Timiti attacks him?” Maia’s heart sank. “He’s all alone out there.”

  “I don’t think it will,” Ren assured. “I could hear it making a lot of noise up at the mouth of the fissure. It was stomping around, trying to break in, wanting to get to you, I’m sure.”

  Chylomyhrra sped past the dark walls of the fissure, never once hesitating or slowing down. They had dodged the whale, but a few things still worried Maia. The hardest part would be escaping the thick medium at the mouth of the fissure. She wondered if the milk squid would be strong enough to fight through it. And what if the Timiti waited for
them at the exit? Where would they hide then?

  “We will find a way,” Ren whispered, sensing her worries. She nodded vaguely, hoping that Kusha was safe, Hans was safe, and they would also be safe soon.

  “The corkscrew is coming up, so hold on to Chylomyhrra,” Ren cautioned. Maia steadied herself, remembering their tumultuous ride through the corkscrew the last time.

  The rush of the fall stilled her heart for a few moments. It had been quite a ride inside the Aqumob, but dangling in the open from Chylomyhrra’s tentacles, water streaking past forcefully over her body, her legs and arms almost scraping against the slippery walls of the chasm, was something else altogether. Turn after sharp turn, her heart skipping beat after beat, her mind went numb while the milk squid glided effortlessly through. Maia was frozen with fear, but somehow she also enjoyed the rush. Even under the terrible circumstances, when the path flattened out and Chylomyhrra picked up speed, Maia could not help but miss the thrill of the corkscrew.

  “I miss it already.” Ren chuckled next to her, making her laugh.

  “Me too,” Maia replied. “Maybe someday we can come back for another pass-through. Someday when no one is chasing us and we’re not rushing to help a friend.”

  Around them, the waters had started thickening. Chylomyhrra seemed to sense the change; her pace quickened and Maia thought she felt her tentacles stiffen a little. Right after that, the milk squid’s whole body lit up a bright orange-red. She flashed red, followed by a dark pause, and then orange. Maia blinked a few times, trying to get used to the blinding flashes.

  “What’s that all about?” Ren asked. “I’ve never seen her do that before.”