“ʼTwas on a night, an evening bright,
When the dew began to fall,
Lady Margaret was walking up and down,
Looking o’er her castle wall.”
Kayla closed her eyes and smiled at the image of a gallant knight hailing the beautiful Lady Margaret.
“I am come to this castle
To seek the love of thee.
And if you do not grant me love,
This night for thee I’ll die.”
Kayla’s heart raced as the knight answered the three riddles and Lady Margaret surrendered.
“‘I think you may be my match,’ she said,
‘My match and something more;’ ”
Areinh’s melody slowed, twisting Kayla’s soul with sorrow when the singer revealed that the knight was Lady Margaret’s beloved brother, risen from his grave in retribution for all the valiant men slain by her vanity.
“For the wee worms are my bedfellows,
And cold clay is my sheets,
And when the stormy winds do blow,
My body lies and sleeps.”
As the last note drifted to silence, Kayla wiped her tears.
Areinh bowed her long insect body to Kayla and said, “Welcome to our enchanted realm, Kayla of Potemia.” The singer stretched her mantis arms outward, and the nightingales lifted her into the air like an angel. Her own wings beat in harmony as she drifted out of the chamber.
“She is so melodramatic!” grumbled Humpty Dumpty.
“It’s in her nature,” Ganesh observed.
Kayla shook her head as if waking from a dream. “Is her brother here as well?”
“The Purification Squad killed him during a performance,” the panther said. “He died in her arms as the crowd rioted. Her most ardent fans hid Areinh and prevented her taking her own life.”
Ganesh nodded. “Ohg hacked into the Purification Squad’s communications and reached her minutes before the police surrounded the building.”
“Now that was a fire!” Humpty said.
Ganesh chuckled. “Her supposed suicide closed the case neatly.”
Kayla cocked her head to the side. “Did you hear that?”
Everyone went silent. A faint boom sounded.
“Do you think it could be … him?” Jill whispered.
“Who else?” Humpty said.
Boom, BOOM …
Willow’s wings fluttered. “No one’s seen Xampyx for three hundred years!”
“Ohg consults with him sometimes,” Ganesh said with a slight tremor to his voice.
The picnic glasses vibrated with each impact.
“He scares me,” Jill said.
“What kind of creature is he?” Kayla asked.
“Xampyx uses magic to see the future,” Willow said with eyes wide.
“He does no such thing,” Humpty said. “Xampyx is a high-functioning idiot-savant-multi-psycomp.”
“A multi … what?” Kayla asked. The vibrations traveled up her legs with each boom.
Tem returned to her side. “A psycomp is an organic brain that’s been grown around a computer scaffold. From the earliest gestation, the neurons connect directly to the silicon receptors, creating an integrated brain-computer hybrid.”
“But for what purpose?” Kayla asked.
Ganesh shook his head sadly. “To serve man in his fight against other men, like so many Gene-Freak experiments gone wrong.”
Kayla’s heart fluttered with each thunderous impact.
Tem projected the same calm as ever. “Government intelligence agencies created psycomps to analyze massive amounts of data and search for hidden patterns. They hoped that by combining the analogue creativity of the human brain with the massive digital data of computer circuitry, something more powerful than even an AI could be created.” Tem shook his head. “But the results proved … disappointing.”
With each thunderous impact, more of the gathering exited through side tunnels.
“There were a few successes,” Humpty said.
Tem nodded. “Now and then psycomps delivered astonishing insights and predictions.”
Humpty glared at no one in particular. “Which is why the military kept pushing the limit and experimenting until—”
A massive form filled the passageway, and everyone went silent. With each step of its enormous metal appendages, the floor trembled with an earth-rattling blast like a cannon.
Kayla’s eyes bulged, and her knees threatened collapse. It knows what I am and is coming for me.
Xampyx stopped in front of them, towering twenty feet high by forty feet long. Four mechanical legs as wide as hundred-year oaks supported it. The multi-psycomp looked like something a child might construct from random parts. Wires, exhaust tubes, and hundreds upon hundreds of human heads fused together in a great mass—every one of them staring directly at her.
Puck scurried onto the top of Kayla’s head for a better view.
“I, Xampyx,” echoed the creature from hundreds of mouths at once.
No single face seemed dominant. Some even fused together and shared eyes or mouths between half a dozen human heads, while others stared at her independently.
Picking the nearest face, she forced a smile and said, “I’m Kayla.”
The many faces of Xampyx frowned. “Xampyx need see Nihala.”
Kayla staggered from the name that followed her like a curse. Tem’s gaze shifted toward her. He’d heard Sangwa call her Nihala, and now Xampyx had used it once again. She avoided the Mongol’s eyes.
“I want see Nihala!” Xampyx said, his many faces glaring at the gathering.
Ganesh stepped forward. “There’s no one named Nihala here, Xampyx.”
The giant stomped a foot, and the chamber shook. “Xampyx know! Nihala the Destroyer here! Come from Potemia here!” The creature stomped his foot again, and rocks rained from the ceiling. A few of the Gene-Freaks screamed, and long cracks formed into a web above them.
“Potemia?” Ganesh said, looking at Kayla.
Xampyx raised his foot for another stomp, and Kayla laid a hand on the side of his nearest face. “I’ve been called Nihala.”
The multi-psycomp’s adult faces relaxed into the simplicity of a hundred children.
“You Nihala?” Xampyx eased his foot to the ground. “You be Potemia born?”
Kayla forced a smile and nodded. “Yes.”
A huge grin spread across all his faces. “ Xampyx listen, Xampyx see. Xampyx warn Nihala.”
Kayla took a deep breath. “What have you seen?”
His faces grew serious. “Melchi fear Nihala. Rogues attack Nihala soon. Then Rogue destroy Ixtalia. Attack soon. No time. No time …” His voices trailed off, and his eyes lost focus.
“What kind of attack?” Kayla asked.
Xampyx mumbled incoherently. His legs swiveled on internal pivots and carried him back the way he’d come like a receding thunderstorm.
“But what about Middilgard!” Kayla called out. “Is it in danger?”
Xampyx seemed unaware of her presence and soon vanished from sight. As the booms grew faint, a few of her new friends averted their eyes from her before exiting.
Willow kissed Kayla on the cheek with her tiny lips. “I’m not letting some crazy psychic scare me!”
“For once, I think Willow is right!” Humpty said.
“Friends stick together,” Sir Richard added, and a half-dozen others nodded agreement.
Kayla looked around. “Where’s Tem?”
Ganesh surveyed the cave as well. “I’m sure he just wanted to consult with Ohg about what Xampyx said.”
Kayla’s stomach tightened with dread. “This morning, a cat told me I’m placing Middilgard in danger and that I should leave. Maybe she’s right.”
“That must have been Mirza,” Willow said. “Don’t mind her. There is no way the Rogues can find this place. Ohg has seen to that.”
“It’s been a long day,” said a matronly voice behind her. “Let me take you home, dear.�
��
Kayla turned and faced … her horse! “You can talk?”
“No natural animals live here, my dear—with the exception of Puck, of course. I thought it polite to let you and Tem get to know each other without my interference.” The mare chuckled. “Tem was right, you are sweet.”
“Tem said that?”
“Not in those precise words, but I could read between the lines.”
Had the encounter with Xampyx changed his mind?
When they reached her villa, she hugged the mare—whose name was Clysto—and thanked her for the tour. Tired as she was, Kayla feared sleep and the new horrors her dreams might reveal.
She lay in her bed and stared at the dimming sphere in the ceiling. The imprisoned Rogue seemed convinced that Kayla had been sent to destroy her kind. Tem’s words echoed in her memory: “Murderous potential lurks within us all …”
Xampyx had also mentioned Melchi. A supernatural thrill caressed her spine.
As Kayla drifted to half-sleep, Melchi’s words echoed within her mind. “…she is much more than human…”
Kayla’s breathing slowed, and the faint buzz of an insect filled the void of silence. The mosquito landed on her forearm. It must think I’m asleep. A silly thought. Mosquitoes couldn’t reason. The tiny creature inserted its syringe-like beak into her skin. Her hand twitched, ready to obliterate the parasite. It’s merely following its genetic programming. Does it have any more choice in its actions than I? Once engorged, the mosquito withdrew its needle-like beak and buzzed into flight once again.
She drifted into the arms of sleep.
Chapter 15
Peter’s mind drew Kayla into another dream. What mystical connection bound them after half a millennium? Why this particular vision of the past?
Through his eyes, she saw a tangle of equipment manned by a dozen technicians, their white lab coats contrasting with the gray body armor and helmets worn by the two armed guards at the door. All bore the healed scars of the plague pustules.
Leather straps bound Peter to a metal chair. Only his eyes remained free to roam the small, rectangular room with reinforced metal walls.
“Susan,” Peter moaned. The professionals in the room ignored him.
The door opened and General Colrev strode in. The guards snapped to attention and presented arms. “At ease,” he said, and the guards settled to a more relaxed pose, but no less alert.
Kayla felt Peter’s teeth grinding at the sight of Colrev’s plague-scarred face.
“Are all the preliminaries satisfactory?” Colrev asked.
“Yes, General,” one of the technicians said. “The brain is free of anomalies, with no adverse reactions to the sedatives.”
“Very well, then. You may proceed with the memory extraction.”
“It will do you no good,” Peter said. “By now, our leader and every Neo-Luddite is hidden in places I have no knowledge of.”
The general frowned. “You look familiar, somehow.”
“I watched you execute those civilians in Iraq, Colonel Colrev. You held a gun to my head and forced me to kill two children.”
“The half-breed.” The general’s lip rose into a snarl.
“So you do remember.”
“It’s ancient history.”
“You miss my point, General. Once my brain is mapped, others will see everything I saw. What will people think when they see you massacring men, women, and children? Who will they blame when they realize you created me?”
The general’s face stiffened, and his hand drifted toward his pistol.
“Do it, General,” Peter urged. “You can loosen one of my wrist restraints to make it look good for the others. I attacked you, and you had no choice but to kill me. Then your secret will be safe … as will all of mine.”
The general’s left hand drifted toward Peter’s wrist, and his right settled on his gun.
“That’s it,” Peter said. “A couple of shots like you did to that little girl’s mother. Wouldn’t that be poetic?”
Still, the general hesitated.
A technician approached. “We’re all set to start, General.”
General Colrev remained silent, staring into Peter’s eyes with hatred. Finally, he stepped back. “Proceed.”
“It’s too late to stop us,” Peter said.
“Ah, but we already have. Our greatest scientist synthesized a counteragent that is being distributed worldwide as we speak.”
The general forced open Peter’s eyelids. “You called me a monster for killing a handful of ‘innocent’ civilians. I see now that the student has far surpassed the teacher.”
Peter gritted his teeth as flashes obscured his vision. “You are mistaken if you think we’re beaten. We have … other viruses … and methods of delivery. We will … keep fighting.”
General Colrev smiled. “I would expect nothing less. What is life, after all, without someone to fight, Private Nighthawk?”
Kayla’s connection to Peter vanished, and everything went black. Stark letters materialized out of the darkness, reading: THANK YOU FOR USING THE VIRTUAL MEMORY DATABASE.
A disembodied woman’s voice spoke in Kayla’s mind. “This concludes the edited memory archives of Peter Nighthawk. If you would like to make a new selection, please return to the main menu.”
Peter Nighthawk? The same last name as hers. It couldn’t be mere coincidence.
Is that our connection? Am I Peter’s descendant?
The memories must be the recordings made by Colrev with the brain imaging machine—that’s why they went no further than this point. But how and why was she seeing them?
A knock on the door made her jump. Tem called her name. She ran to the entrance and threw herself into his arms. “You were right when you said everyone has the potential of good and evil within their genes. Peter Nighthawk started out good and then became one of the worst mass murderers in history!”
“What does the mastermind of the Neo-Luddite Plague have to do with you?” Tem asked.
“My last name is Nighthawk.”
“Not everyone with the same last name is related.”
“It’s not a common name in Potemia. Plus, I’ve been seeing the events of hundreds of years ago through Peter Nighthawk’s eyes!”
Tem remained silent for a time. “Have you told this to Ohg?”
“I haven’t seen him since I arrived, but I told him my last name before the Monads attacked him.” She averted her eyes. “What happens when my new friends realize I’m related to one of the greatest killers of all time?”
A low, feminine voice with a curious accent suddenly spoke. “They will say someone sent you here to destroy us all.” Leaning against the doorframe, a dark-skinned girl looked her up and down with her upper lip curled in disdain. Purple and yellow striped leather pants accentuated her long legs. Henna designs encircled her belly button and vanished underneath a cropped red leather jacket straining against aggressive breasts. Despite her spiked green hair and nose ring, the beauty of her brown eyes and full lips seemed like a fantasy slipped from dreams.
The words cut into Kayla with their truth, and she staggered back as if from a blow.
“Fatima!” Tem glared at the newcomer.
The exotic girl ignored him. “They will say that the government created you to infiltrate Middilgard and destroy us all. They will say you should leave.”
“Enough!” Tem’s voice snapped like a whip, yet hinted at another quality lurking underneath. Guilt?
Fatima gazed at him. “I wondered what called you away from your tent so early in the morning. Sneaking off to be with this—thing.”
She’s jealous of me.
“Ganesh mentioned you,” Kayla said. “You’re the …” Her voice trailed off.
“The Gene-Freak prostitute,” Fatima said, raising her chin in haughty defiance. “I am everything a man desires. You will never steal Tem from me.”
“I’m not trying to—”
“I know your kind.” Fatima saunte
red toward her, eyes sizing her up. “Everything about you is a lie.”
Tem stepped between them. “Leave, now.”
“Don’t you see that she’s evil?” Fatima asked. “Her visions of the Memory Archive prove she must have a neural implant and can’t possibly be from Potemia.”
“That is for Ohg to judge,” Tem said.
Fatima laughed. “Hiding behind Ohg? That’s not the Tem I once knew.”
Tem said nothing.
“Did he tell you I saved his life?” Fatima strode around Tem and stopped before Kayla. “He wouldn’t even be here if not for me. That’s gratitude for you.” The Indian prostitute leaned within inches of her face. Kayla could smell her musky perfume, the scent of spices on her breath.
With a sudden jerk forward, Fatima licked her cheek.
Kayla cried out, and stumbled back.
Fatima laughed.
Tem grabbed the girl’s arm and jerked her toward the door. Once outside the villa, he stood motionless, glaring at her.
The Indian prostitute gazed at his fingers encircling her thin arm. He let go.
Fatima walked to a metal disk lying on the ground and slipped her bare, henna-painted feet into two loops at the center. It lifted into the air and whooshed down the tunnel.
“I’m sorry.” Kayla rubbed the saliva off her cheek. “I didn’t mean to cause you trouble.”
“I left Fatima centuries ago, but she has never accepted it.”
“What she said … about something in my brain—”
“Your dreams are not supernatural. They originate with the Virtual Memory Archives and can only be accessed through a Mind-Link.” He placed a hand on her shoulder. “I have watched Peter Nighthawk’s archive myself, as has most everyone.”
“But how is it possible for someone from Potemia to see it?”
“I can’t explain it.”
“If I am Peter Nighthawk’s descendent, everyone here will fear me.”
Tem took her hand and led her into the library. “I need to show you something,” he said. He walked along the shelves, scanning the spines of the books, then selected one. After paging through it, he pointed to a paragraph. “Read this passage.”
Kayla read: “It is said that the boy emerged from his mother’s womb clutching a blood clot in his tiny fist, foreshadowing the bloody empire he would someday wrest from the kings and emperors beyond the pastures of his ancestors. They named the child Temujin in memory of a Tartar warrior his father had killed in battle; but history would remember him by the name he took later in life after unifying all the tribes of his homeland—Genghis Khan.”
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