Chapter 14: The Weight of Words

Janet had wrapped Tymah's body in blankets and was periodically wiping the girl's brow with a damp cloth. She had been sitting alone with her for some time and was startled when her vigil was broken by the fire mutant, Spit. She eyed him cautiously. He regarded her likewise.

"How is she?" he asked.

"Her fever broke a little while ago. I think she'll be alright."

Spit nodded and stood with the tent flap open, half of him inside, half out.

Janet's heart was beating nervously, but she said, "If you want to come in, just come in."

He looked behind him and then at her, made a decision and stepped inside. He sat on the other side of Tymah's sleeping form. "You washed her face."

"Yes. There was blood."

He nodded.

Janet dipped the cloth in the bowl of water, just for the sake creating activity and noise in the awkward silence.

"Why are you-" Spitfire stopped speaking suddenly, as if surprised by the sound of his own voice.

"Why am I what?" Janet asked.

He bit his lip, then said, "Helping her. Why?"

Janet had been wondering this herself. She hadn't forgotten the weeks she'd been hunted by a group of mutants, barefoot and starving and watching her friends and family get picked off, one by one.

But of course, she hadn't forgotten being saved by a mutant either, an Outsider, just like the ones that had been chasing her. She hadn't forgotten falling in love with him.

"Because I love Daytripper," she answered at last. "And she's his friend and I knew I could help, so..." she shrugged, "I helped."

He watched her in silence. She tried to ignore the stare. As if conscious of her discomfort, he looked away. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw him snap his fingers and fire sprung from the tips and her breath caught.

"What are you doing?" she cried.

Spit looked up when he heard her frightened voice, an expression in his eyes that suggested bewilderment at her fear. He followed her wide-eyed gaze to his lit fingers and quickly put them out. "Nothing," he said quickly. "I was just...it's a habit."

Janet was nearly in tears, but she hid them from him. His actions had sparked a feeling in her that she'd long buried, but never truly forgotten. "Please don't do it again," she said, trying to steady her voice.

"I'm sorry. I'll go."

Janet didn't protest. She didn't look at him again, but heard him stand and leave, the tent flap swishing in his wake.

In Tymah's dream, she was sweating, but she was cold. It was so bright, she couldn't see and so hot, she was amazed that her body could feel chilled. The heat surrounded her and yet, she was separate from it. She was alone in the eye of this all-encompassing heat. She thought she understood.

"I need you to understand," said a voice that sounded like tearing paper. The same voice that she'd heard in her mind, first in the forest, then in the tent with Magneto and Spitfire. The voice she'd thought she'd imagined.

The voice grew a face, and then a body. Tymah couldn't see herself, couldn't see her own hands or feet, or her eyelids when she blinked or the end of her nose when she crossed her eyes. She understood that in this world, in the dream world, she, Tymah, was the spirit and the Voice was the physical form.

"It will be different, when this is over," said the voice, who was now a beautiful woman dressed in red and black, with flaming red hair and a face like a queen. Haughty, majestic and sad. Her eyes were solid black and terrifying. The woman seemed to read her thoughts, so Tymah did not have to speak at all. She wondered something, and the wonder was explained by the woman before she had a chance to voice it. Now, she wondered what the woman meant by "when this is over."

And she explained. "You are asleep. Your whole body is asleep. You are not who you are. They changed you...but when you change back, you will be my form because you will be the strongest of them all. When this is over, I will be the spirit and you, the form."

Tymah tried to reach out and touch this woman, but she could not feel her own hands and then she saw that she had no hands. She was not afraid.

"Good," said the woman in her strange, tearing voice. "We will be one." Her body shifted and seemed to wobble. Her face looked sadder still. "I keep...losing myself. And I must fight and fight to find myself again." She opened her hands and raised them and gazed down at them. "These are not my hands anymore," she whispered. "But this was once my form. He killed her. And you know him. He killed her though he loved her." She grew quiet and added faintly, "He killed her...because he loved her." The woman's body became transparent and her face and opaque eyes seemed lost in thought. "I remember everything now." And in an instant, the form was solid again, no longer see-through, in fact, more present than ever before. She was bright like fire and red and black like a rising storm in a sunset. "And I will not forget again."

Tymah had ceased to think questions, because suddenly her mind was filled with the thoughts and knowledge of the woman in her dream. She knew her like she knew herself. She was filled with her memories and knew all.

"Come," the woman said. "It is time to wake up."

"There were 17 of us," Magneta said quietly. "In the past, there were more."

"Elemental?" Himmel asked.

The woman nodded. "And Outsiders."

"Why?"

Magneta's eyes were distant and threaded with tired red capillaries. Her hair was tangled and damp. Her hands were loose and open on her lap, as if she were expecting someone to hand her something at any moment.

They had taken her from the shore, without any struggle, and brought her to what Fathom assumed was Himmel's home. It was bare and cold, and by that Fathom was not surprised. It was well-stocked, however, and Fathom had eaten as had Himmel. They had tried to make Magneta eat, but short of stuffing food down her throat, they could not convince her.

They had kept her here for four days. She had been so wracked with grief that they'd gotten very little out of her at first, but finally, on the second day, she had taken a little food and some water and had begun to be coherent. Himmel was oddly gentle with her, seemed to know instinctively that to force her to speak would be counterproductive. Fathom's curiosity was overpowering and though she understood Himmel's approach, she wearied of it. Why she even cared in the first place was a continuing mystery to her.

Himmel leaned in close to Magneta and talked in a kind, low voice. "Why were you there, Magneta?"

She either couldn't or wouldn't look at him. "I can't tell you," she whispered dully.

"But it's gone," Himmel said, "the thing in the metal room is gone."

"We...lost it," she said.

"Tell me what it was and we'll find it again. We'll bring it back."

Her face contorted. She wanted to believe him, wanted to be relieved of whatever burden she was bearing. The tears in her eyes fell down her face silently and dripped onto the floor. "It's too late."

Himmel sat back and watched her for a moment. "Here," he said, pushing a steaming mug towards her, "drink this tea."

He got up from the table and left the room.

"He's gone..." Magneta sighed.

At first, Fathom assumed Magneta was talking about Himmel as she said those words. Then, something in her mind shifted, an idea appeared and would not go away. It seemed so stupid...and yet...

"Who's gone Magneta?" Fathom asked quickly. Himmel had told her not to speak to Magneta, that Magneta needed to understand and trust Himmel in order for them to get the information he wanted. Fathom was too abrasive and would get frustrated with Magneta, he'd said, (and that much had proved true), whereas Himmel was more patient.

Magneta looked up bleary-eyed at Fathom.

"Magneta, who's gone?" she repeated. "Was there a person in that room? Were you hiding...a person?" The pieces fell into place one by one. The mysterious mutant she'd sensed with Tymah in the South District. "A metal worker? Were you hiding a class four metal worker?"

"No..." Magneta moaned. "No."

Fathom turned her head to look behind her, afraid Himmel would hear. "Tell me," she pressed. "That's it, isn't it? You were hiding a class four metal worker...but why?"

Magneta bent her head and shook it wildly. "No, no, no..." she continued to groan.

"Fathom."

Fathom's stomach sank like a stone. She faced Himmel, who stood behind her in the kitchen doorway. "They were hiding a person," she said, before he could chastise her, "a class four metal worker. I'm sure of it."

He stared at her for an eternity, then said, "The South District."

Fathom sighed with relief. "Yes."

"Where?" he asked.

"I think I can remember...I sensed...fire there as well, and another Sensor mutant." Fathom surprised herself with these details, but in that moment her brain seemed to be in overdrive, fitting details into place, calling up memories. "I can find it," she said with more confidence than she knew she had.

A hint of a smile played on Himmel's lips. The long scar down his face caught the waning daylight for a moment and looked rather like a thin stream of golden lava running down past his shirt collar. "Tomorrow," he said.

Blaze waited, along with the rest of the group, as Sees reached out with her powers once again. Throughout each day, for the last four days, Jumpstep would teleport them all from one place to another. Sees would use her power of Sense and try to locate a mutant with class four metal working powers.

"Nothing," she said at last. "Fuck."

"I can't stand this much longer," Shiftstir said.

"We have to keep going," Blaze said, but with less conviction than the last hundred times he'd said those words.

"Blaze," Jumpstep said, heavily, "I need to rest. I can't keep jumping like this. I need a day, at least. I feel like my body is going to explode."

"Alright," Blaze conceded, "but we can't just stay here. Is there a town nearby? Can you make one more jump, just to get us someplace where we can get food?"

Jumpstep stood up shakily, but nodded. "Yeah, okay." He took a deep breath and seemed to be looking at something straight ahead of him that no one else could see. Like most teleporters, Jumpstep had a kind of internal map in his mind, an awareness of exactly where he was on the planet and what was nearby. "Damn," he cursed, "the closest settlement is the fucking human colony."

"You've got to be kidding me."

"I can't jump any farther than that. I'm too weak. And there's nothing else around us in any direction."

"Man, can we fuck up, or what?" Shiftstir shook her head.

The group fell silent, looking at each other and then at nothing.

"Well," Sees began, "we look human."

"Sees!" Shiftstir cried with indignity.

"We do, Shift, face it. I mean, we know we're mutants, but they won't know. And there's supposed to be, like, a couple thousand of them up there. Everybody can't know everybody. If we showed up, got some food, and left, would anyone really notice?"

"No way," Shiftstir objected.

"I think we could get away with it," Jumpstep said.

"No fucking way!"

Blaze put his face in his hands, sighed, then looked up at the three Outsiders. "Either we go, or we wait twenty four hours to eat or one of us kills something and I cook it."

"Oh my God, Blaze, you're insane," Shiftstir cried.

"Those are our choices."

"Blaze," Jumpstep put in, "if I just jumped with one other person, I'd have just enough energy to port back here. Two of us could go, get food, and come back."

"Alright, me and you will go then," Blaze decided. "You girls'll be alright for a few hours?"

"No wait," Shiftstir said, "what if something happens to you? What if you can't get back? We don't even know where we are."

"Then we're all going!" Blaze shouted, finally at the end of his rope.

Shiftstir was taken aback and seemed ready for a shouting match, but her hunger got the better of her. "Fine, we'll all go. We shouldn't separate anyway."

Janet gasped when Tymah's eyes flashed open. They stared at each other. Tymah's eyes were wide and almost fully black. Janet could see her reflection in the blackness and it frightened her. Finally, Tymah spoke.

"You're human."

"Yes."

Tymah sat straight up, looking around her as if she wasn't sure about where she was. She rubbed her eyes. "I can see." Her voice was calm, almost monotone.

There was a water bottle near her, but not near enough to reach out and grab. Tymah extended her hand towards the bottle. Janet thought she was pointing to it, asking for it, so she started to rise to get it for her.

Suddenly the bottle jumped from where it was on the tent floor, straight across and into Tymah's hand. Tymah stared at it and then drank with abandon. When she finished the bottle, she held it out in front of her and let it go, but it remained floating in the air. Tymah cocked her head curiously, and then smiled a cool, thin smile.

Janet started to move away from her.

The bottle fell with a clunk and caused her to jump.

"Where is he?" Tymah asked without looking at her.

"Who?"

She turned her head. Her eyes were so fiercely black. "Magneto. Where is Magneto?"

Janet's stomach plummeted. That word, Magneto, was a curse in her world. It carried with it half a century of persecution and fear, of humanity's near extinction. Her voice came out a whisper. "M-Magneto? What are you talking about?"

Tymah frowned, thought, then stood. "Of course," she said.

"You...you shouldn't move too much. You had such a high fever."

"My fever is over," the mutant girl replied and walked out of the tent. Janet pursued her.

"Please, you've been very ill."

She kept walking.

Janet caught up with her and put a hand carefully on her arm. "I'm sorry about the way you found out about me. I know how you must be feeling."

Tymah faced Janet. Her black eyes were truly terrifying. "I am full of joy," she said. "I know what you're talking about, but she doesn't care anymore. I don't care." Then, she raised her hand and placed it against Janet's face. "Poor human child," she said quietly. "I think...I think I may be sorry for what I have done to you."

Janet let go and stepped away from her. Something was very wrong. Dark clouds knitted together above her and it began to rain. She watched Tymah walk away and disappear behind a sheet of water.

Velocity was moving through the camp as fast as he could. The rain, which had just begun, made it easier to not be seen. He couldn't believe what Fellswoop had told him. It was speeding through his mind like a smaller, faster version of himself. The questions spiraled out of control. Creature had assured him it was true. Fellswoop had never lied before. And what a lie, if it was one! What a fantastic story! It was so bizarre. Could it be anything but true?

Men and women, fire, food, sweatshirts, jeans, rain, rain, tents everywhere, children playing, children running from the rain, cabins, furs, livestock, dogs...ah, no mistaking him. The famous/infamous Wolverine. Tall, black-haired, black-bearded, muscular frame, feral eyes. Velocity slowed, but not enough so as to be seen by a normal person. An older man, rather, an old man by Velocity's standards, was talking with Wolverine under a tent awning. That man was older than the Elemental mutant Himmel, who was the oldest mutant Velocity knew of. But was he a man or a mutant?

Velocity was so focused on determining the man's mutantity, that he didn't see the woman approaching him, moving as fast as himself.

She came out of nowhere and grabbed him. He was stopped dead and fell from his run into the mud. She stood over him, legs on either side of his body. He stared up at her. "I know you," he gasped and tried to move again. She was faster and pinned him down. Then she stood upright and Velocity could feel a weight on his body, as if she were still pressing down on him. He couldn't move.

"You don't know me," the red haired mutant said.

"I do...you're...Tymah...Everybody's looking...for you." Velocity struggled to speak under the invisible weight.

Tymah studied him. "They're all coming here, aren't they?"

Velocity couldn't speak. He was barely able to draw breath.

This exchange took mere seconds, and the old man and Wolverine were running up to them, along with a few dozen humans. Velocity was blacking out. Red and black dots peppered his vision. The old man cried out her name. Wolverine tried to move her. The last thing he saw and heard was Tymah saying, "Don't you recognize me, Magneto?"

"A weapon?" Centaur asked. "They believe Godspeed was building a weapon?"

Shadowveil nodded, but the gesture, of course, could not be seen. She was speaking to Centaur and Satyr through an intermediary, a telepathic mutant the two Animalis trusted who connected his mind to theirs and enabled them to speak to each other. "Yes," she said, "that is the conclusion they arrived at. And..." Here, she hesitated, "And they believe she was...working with Fellswoop."

There was a long silence. The telepath, who was called Memory, and with whom she was well aquainted, looked curiously at Shadowveil, but said nothing. Satyr's voice was in her head now. "What kind of weapon?"

Startled by their apparent lack of interest in what she'd just said about their leader, she continued uncertainly."They don't know, but they believe the battle that the Animalis orchestrated was just a diversion to steal the last components of the weapon, or the weapon itself. Possibly to finish construction outside of Elemental Territory. Did you...hear what I said about Fellswoop?"

Again, silence reigned. Memory was now staring wide-eyed at Shadowveil, who shook her head quickly. Centaur spoke: "We heard you. Did the Council discuss their next move?"

"Yes. They're searching for a weather mutant called Tymah with whom they believe Godspeed was working. She disappeared after the battle, but they don't believe she's dead. If they find her, they believe she will, with...encouragement, lead them to the weapon."

"And Godspeed? You're certain she is dead?"

"Positive. May I ask-" Shadowveil began.

Centaur thanked her abruptly, promised her payment, and told Memory to break the connection. He did and breathed out. "What in Magneto's name is going on?"

Shadowveil bit her lip. "I'm not sure. It could be good or bad for us. I don't know."

"What kind of weapon could they have been building?"

"It doesn't matter. What matters is why would Fellswoop and Godspeed be working together? And what does that mean for the rest of us...Outsiders?" She said the word with little less than loathing. "More work? Or will they turn the weapon on us, too? We're no better than humans to both sides, unless they need something from us."

Memory leaned back and thought for a moment. "Centaur is going to kill Fellswoop," he said suddenly.

"What?"

"I saw it in his mind."

"Why? What else did you see?"

He shifted uncomfortably. "Something I didn't understand." He stopped.

"What was it?"

Memory closed his eyes, trying to see the thoughts he'd glimpsed in Centaur's mind more clearly. He hadn't been able to delve too deep, lest he be detected; he'd had to be careful. "Centaur doesn't...believe Fellswoop. He thinks Fellswoop has lost his mind."

Shadowveil frowned. "Why would he think that? What doesn't he believe?"

Memory was shaking his head. "I..." he stammered. "It doesn't make sense."

"What?" Shadowveil was getting angry now. "Tell me!"

Memory locked eyes with her. "He doesn't believe that Magneto is really alive."

Shadowveil choked on an intake of breath. "Are you insane?"

"That's what I saw...that's what Centaur was thinking."

"That makes no sense. Why would anyone have that thought? Of course Magneto isn't alive! I don't understand what your saying."

"I don't understand what I'm saying!" Memory cried. "It's in his mind. I couldn't look further."

Shadowveil's head was reeling. "And he is going to...murder Fellswoop because of this...this...?" She couldn't finish her thought.

"Yes," Memory affirmed. "Yes he is. Soon."

Shadowveil weighed this in her mind. The truth was, she liked Fellswoop. He was a well respected leader and unlike others of his kind, he held nothing against Outsiders for their...other-ness. He was majestic in his way and she'd always been glad to work for him when he'd needed a shape-shifter. She took a deep, slow breath. "I have...just given them all the reason they need to kill him," she said aloud.

"You didn't know. What does it matter?"

What did it matter? Shadowveil had never devoted much thought to the end results of her assignments. It was a war, an ongoing war, and it was more than likely that her actions had led to the deaths of others, or at least to the destruction of their homes and valuables. It was more than likely that she had, however indirectly, hurt people. It had never mattered before. But Fellswoop...he had allowed her and her family to live in Animalis territory unmolested. She benefited from the fruits of Animalis labors, from their land. And she was not the only Outsider who was in that position. If anyone asked her, she would say that she had no allegiances, that the outcome of the war, if it ever ended, meant nothing to her. But that was a lie. It did mean something. And what would it mean to Shadowveil if Fellswoop was no longer there to protect her?

"I should have known," she said quietly. "I should have known something was not right when I was approached by those two idiots instead of Fellswoop himself. I should have lied to them."

Memory touched her arm. "You can't."

"Can't what?" she asked.

"You can't tell Fellswoop. I hear your thoughts. I hear your guilt. If you tell him, and he doesn't survive, they will know it was you and they will come after you and your children. And," he squeezed her arm, "they'll come for me and mine."

"I can't...I can't let them."

"You must! You have to."

He was right. She knew it.

Shadowveil put her face in her hands and, for the first time in her tenuous life, she knew the part she played and mourned her lost ignorance.

Himmel and Fathom were guided into the apartment by a woman who introduced herself as Sentir. She was the Sensor mutant that Fathom had detected and...down a dark hallway, into a bedroom, and there on the bed, was the aging fire mutant. He was like a skeleton and his powers were barely detectable. It was clear to all present that he was dying.

"Himmel," the fire mutant rasped, "it's been a long time."

"Pyro," Himmel nodded.

"I know...why you're here," Pyro went on. He looked at Fathom. "Sense something, did you?"

"Yes..." she answered nervously. She had never seen someone so old, so frail. She had witnessed a lot of death in her life, but had never seen anyone wasting away like this. "A class four..."

"Metal worker?" he finished.

Fathom nodded.

"Who?" Himmel went straight to the point.

Pyro smiled, like he was about to deliver the punch line of a joke. "You won't believe me if I tell you."