Maia and the Xifarian Conspiracy (The Lightbound Saga Book 1) (29 page)

46: A Visit from the Chancellor

Yoome looked cold, more distant than she usually appeared. Her inky black eyes darted around the room, scanning it intently before she threw a careless glance at Maia and Ren.

“How did you find us?” Ren asked, smiling.

“The chancellor will be here soon.” Yoome spoke in her detached, toneless voice, ignoring Ren’s question. “We need to do this fast, and I need you to cooperate.”

“Do what?” Ren asked sharply as he stepped toward the girl. “Who told you about the chancellor’s visit?”

Yoome turned toward him and raised her right arm. Ren’s body jerked backward and he stopped immediately, as if he had hit an unseen wall. She was using her TEK powers.

“You first.” Yoome took a long vial from the pocket of her jacket and turned toward Maia, stepping quickly to bridge the distance between them. For a few moments Maia stood frozen to the ground, then stepped frantically backward along the side of the bed.

“What are you doing?” Ren had recovered quickly from the invisible shove.

“Do not come any closer,” Yoome hissed at Ren, raising her hand again, making Ren skid back a dozen steps toward the corner of the room. “I will deal with you later.”

She took another step toward Maia, raising the vial like a knife in her hand.

“Get away from her, Maia . . . she’s crazy,” Ren screamed.

“Be quiet,” Yoome yelled, flicking her hand once more in his direction. Maia saw the space collapse, and Ren groaned as he slammed hard against the corner.

Maia realized it was now or never; she had to escape and get help—that was the only way that Yoome could be stopped. She grabbed the flower vase and hurled it at the girl before making a mad dash to the door. Barely a few steps from the threshold she was violently flung sideways—something crashed into her back, making her stumble and drop to the floor on her knees. The pain came just moments later. The huge clay pitcher that had stood in the corner of the room now lay broken, its pieces strewn on the floor.

“The more you fight me, the more I will have to hurt you. And you know that I do not hesitate.” Yoome strode past the bed and bent down to look into Maia’s eyes.

Maia could scarcely breathe. Tears had pooled in her eyes and she could barely see. It was all so senseless.
Why? Is this revenge for their trouncing during the final challenge?

“Don’t you touch her.” Ren flung himself at Yoome.

“I warned you,” Yoome spun around, a vicious scowl twisting her face. The venom in her voice made Maia shiver.

Yoome raised her arm and flayed it in the motion of a whip. And again. And again. A white wave lashed from her hand, and Ren’s face contorted as it hit him across the face, a welt forming on his cheek instantaneously. Yoome took a few more steps toward Ren, and as her hands moved, waves curled and weaved. Every movement hurled Ren forcefully back. A few paces away from the corner, a huge bend in the space lifted his body up and threw him against the wall. Ren writhed in pain before his eyes closed and he collapsed in a heap on the floor.

“Ren! Nooooooo . . . stop!” Maia screamed. She had not moved during the time Yoome had stepped away. As she sat on the floor, almost paralyzed from the crippling pain that streamed through her spine, her eyes unseeing, she knew that Ren was injured, probably severely. And that thought hurt much more than the ache in her back.

Yoome was by her side in an instant. Kneeling, she placed the vial on Maia’s left temple. “Just a pinch and it will be over,” she whispered as she caught Maia’s wrists tightly behind her back in a steely grip. Maia braced herself for the pointed end to pierce her head when the door flew open.

There was a moment of stillness, of hesitation, and then the vial flew out of Yoome’s hand, sliding across the floor to the other side of the room. The grip on Maia’s wrists loosened as Yoome stood up to face the person at the door. Maia fell back, her senses still reeling from the shock and the hurt.

“Get out of my way,” Yoome hissed, “or I will destroy you.”

“Try it.” The indistinct whisper sounded familiar.

As Yoome raised her arms, Maia felt a rush of fear and futility sweep through her. She stood up with all the strength she could muster, leaning against the wall. Ren had been injured, and she had no idea how badly. This girl was dangerous, and whatever it was she wanted, she would fight until the end for it. Maia did not want anyone else to intervene and suffer.

“Go away . . . while you still can,” she pleaded to the blurry figure of a person who had confronted Yoome.

Yoome’s harsh, callous laughter chilled Maia’s heart. It was the first time she had ever heard Yoome laugh.

“Too late for that,” Yoome said as she stretched her fingers, ready to unleash another wave of assault.

Yoome staggered across the room much the same way as Ren had, but Maia did not see the wave that hit her, it was so swift. The girl stumbled and balanced herself, her face livid at the realization that she had underestimated her opponent.

The dark figure at the door stepped closer to Maia. Yoome’s lips curled viciously, and when she raised her right hand again, the space in front of her folded into a sharp spear. Maia felt a hand grab her tightly by the arm, while an enormous shield-like wave thwarted the spear and flung Yoome backward. The girl skidded across the bed, hitting the headboard, then rolled forward and fell with a crashing thud on the floor.

“Check on him,” the dark figure said, pushing Maia to the ground next to Ren.

“Miir?”

“And stay down.”

Yoome stirred as Miir strode over to the opposite side of the bed. He was still crouched at the window when Yoome got to her feet. A strong spiral burst from Yoome’s hands and tore through the room, leaving a trail of destruction in its wake as it made its way to Miir. Miir raised a hand to defend himself, but he was too late. The wave hit the side of his body and slammed him against the wall.

As he tottered, Yoome stepped forward with the swagger of a predator, a sinister smile on her face. A flash of white light followed by a searing wave of heat flooded the room.

This is the end.
Maia closed her eyes.

There was a loud noise of a body crashing, a deep groan, and then . . . silence. The fearful quiet had stretched for an agonizing while before Maia opened her eyes again, expecting to see Yoome’s menacing face and twisted grin. The room was empty. In the brief moment of distressing blankness that enveloped her mind, Maia inferred that the two warring TEKists had annihilated each other. Then she saw the sprawled form of Yoome writhing on the floor.

Maia turned away anxiously, trying to locate Miir, hoping that he was not hurt as badly. Peeping around the corner of the curved windowsill, she saw him standing with his eyes closed. His face looked drained, his breathing rapid, but he seemed in a far better state than his opponent who showed no signs of recovery. The sound of heavy footsteps came closer, the door opened, and four guards wearing dark red uniforms of the Chancery marched into the room.

Maia crouched closer to the unconscious Ren and shook him lightly by his shoulders, hoping for him to wake up. After the longest time, Ren stirred and opened his bleary eyes.

He tried to sit up against the wall behind him. “What happened, Maia?”

Before Maia could respond, strong hands grabbed them by their arms.

“Stand up,” Miir snarled as he pulled the duo to their feet. On the far side of the room, two guards stood watching over Yoome, while the other two left for reinforcements.

“You tricked me,” Miir whispered through clenched teeth, his eyes flashing with rage, “and . . . betrayed me. I really wish I never have to speak to any of you again.”

Maia had just started to say how sorry they were for running away when the two guards watching Yoome fell away with a loud gasp. Terror was etched on their ashen faces; their eyes stretched wide, lips trembling. Miir’s grip slackened a bit as he peered to see the cause of the disturbance.

Maia clamped her mouth shut with her hands to stop from screaming. Yoome sat with her back to the wall, but she was no longer the girl they had known. The seemingly lifeless form that rested on the floor was a chalk-white mannequin attired in academy uniform. The curtain of long, black hair had vanished and so had her face. What remained was a blank canvas of a limp human figure, grotesque and strange.

“What . . . ?” Ren had barely spoken when Miir turned and pushed them back against the wall.

“Listen to me,” Miir whispered, his tone urgent. “Listen to me very carefully, for your life may depend on what you choose to do. This is what you will say had happened—you were both knocked unconscious by someone you did not see. When you woke up, you saw the guards marching in. Am I clear?” The words barely made it past his gritted teeth.

Maia and Ren nodded vigorously. He shoved them back to the corner of the room. Before Maia could fully grasp his instructions, the door opened again.

A tall, gaunt man with a shaved head marched into the room, followed by a troop of Chancery guards. The man had a casual elegant air about him that reminded Maia of a beast of prey. His keen dark eyes shone on his pale face, and they darted around the room, scanning every corner.

“The Xifarian Chancellor,” Ren whispered to Maia.

“And Miir’s father,” Maia whispered back.

The chancellor stood gazing at Yoome’s limp form. “They are here,” he murmured.

“She seems dead,” one of the guards said, his eyes scanning the floorboards. “She was alive when we secured the room. Then she . . . transformed.”

“You have searched the room, I presume?” asked a man who had followed the chancellor into the room.

“No, sir.” The guard hung his head low.

“Then do it now,” the man snapped. As the guards rambled around, the chancellor walked toward Maia and Ren.

“This is not a very auspicious meeting, I am afraid,” the chancellor said with a smile. His voice was smooth and playful, but somewhere deep down lurked a hard, steely edge. His eyes scrutinized their faces and came to rest on Maia’s.

“I came here to personally thank you for your efforts at the Sanctuary, only to find that you have been viciously attacked. It is truly shameful that our visitors have to endure situations like this, and I am genuinely sorry for the pains you have been put through. Now, can you tell me what exactly happened here?”

Maia saw Miir’s jaw tighten as she opened her mouth to reply.

“I . . . I . . . can hardly remember,” she stammered. “We were standing in front of the window looking outside when something . . . hit me in the back. I don’t remember anything else. When I woke up, I saw Ren lying next to me unconscious . . . and . . . people standing over there.”

The chancellor’s eyes narrowed as his piercing gaze scanned Maia’s face. Then he turned toward Ren.

“And you, young man?”

“About the same, sir. She was shaking me by my arm and calling my name when I woke up.”

“I came here to check on my ward, sir, and found Yoome,” Miir spoke as the chancellor set his questioning gaze on him. “When I confronted her, she attacked. I had scarcely managed to knock her out when the guards came in to sweep the room for your visit.”

“You knew the assailant?” The officer who had been barking orders spoke again.

“Yes,” Miir nodded. “She was a Circle One student at the XDA, a guest along with my team at the Grand Gala. She was being commended for upholding the Code of Honor.”

“And she did not divulge the reason for attacking you? Or for being here?” the chancellor asked, his voice insistent. Miir shook his head solemnly, his face a mask of innocence.

“Sir,” the officer whispered urgently to the chancellor. “I think we should leave right now, sir. This surely looks like the—”

“The R’armimon,” the chancellor snarled, cutting him off midway. “I know that.”

“This seems like an assassination plot against you,” the officer continued in a grave voice. “There could very well be more of them lurking around here.”

The chancellor nodded vaguely, immersed in deep thought. When he looked up, his face had hardened and his eyes gleamed with a quiet rage.

“Wait for me at the warden’s office,” he instructed Miir.

As soon as Miir left the room, the chancellor turned toward Maia and Ren. His eyes bore into Maia’s.

“You are lying.” The cold ruthlessness of his voice chilled the atmosphere immediately. “I wonder why the assassin chose your room to show up. It appears to me that the Resistance has planted you here, to infiltrate our defenses. And look how well they have done—you nearly succeeded in eliminating me.”

“What do you mean?” Maia protested, shocked and baffled at the barrage of unfounded allegations. “I’m not connected to any Resistance. I’ve never even seen them . . . ever.”

The chancellor’s face twisted into a mocking smile, his eyes glinting with indiscreet menace as they held Maia’s gaze. “I have seen through façades before, and you cannot get away with feigned innocence. I have to admit that I never expected the Resistance to align with the R’armimon. That is a brilliant move, but they have most certainly underestimated our capabilities. Your leaders will see our wrath, now that they have chosen to confront us so audaciously.”