Bringer of Chaos- The Origin of Pietas

by Kayelle Allen

  "Hello? Repeating the message...give yourself some time. For someone who lives forever, you sure are in a big hurry."

  "One has nothing to do with the other."

  "Life takes time to live, mi amigo. You survived over a year of captivity without food or water. Treasure every minute you're alive." Six braced a hand on the blanket. "I do. You know why? Because I was dead once. I get how precious life is. You've been dead how many times? Life ought to mean everything to you. Take time to appreciate it."

  "I do, Six. I promise I do. But that doesn't mean I'm content to sit around like a slug warming itself in the sun."

  "Okay, then try thinking of it like this. You died over and over in that pod. To get back to full strength, you have to heal over and over. You need to go slow."

  Resting on the reflective blanket, the cool breeze ruffling his hair, Pietas gave those words all the attention they deserved, nearly four seconds. "No." He held up a hand. "Get me on my feet. I need to get back to work."

  "I think you should be taking it easy."

  "Do not swear in my presence, human. Easy is a dolt who lives across the street from Lazy, which I am not, have never been and will never be. It galls me not to be able to do this on my own, so please do not make the sting worse by telling me to back off as if I were incapable of--"

  "Okay!" Six held up both hands. "Okay. I'm sorry. Lesson learned, all right? You're not a quitter. I think half the known universe knew that long before I was ever born."

  Pietas clamped his jaws tight. "Then don't sit there. Help me up!"

  Six smiled despite the tongue lashing. "Sure thing." He took his time standing. When he reached down, the twinkle in his eye showed he'd gotten his way.

  Pietas had rested even though he resisted. He gritted his teeth to keep quiet. Once on his feet, he hung an arm around Six's shoulders. "Thank you."

  "Sure thing, Ultra. What shall we do first?"

  "Walk to the fire."

  With help, Pietas reached it, turned around and inched his way back. At the starting point, he gripped Six's arm and leaned into him. "That hurt, but it felt great."

  "I can relate. What's next?"

  "Let's walk over to the fire."

  "We just did."

  "Well, I want to do it again! And again and again. Every day, over and over until I can do it myself."

  Chapter Seventeen

  Pietas exercised daily. Pain nagged at him, sapping his strength, depleting his energy. One morning, he asked Six to help him walk to the creek and leave him there while the ghost hunted.

  After Six had departed, Pietas sat on one of the stones beside the water, legs dangling in the cool water. With the warm sun on his back, he stretched, loosening his body.

  A sudden cramp in his back made him cry out and he arched, fighting the tight pull.

  "You okay?" Six came out of nowhere and knelt beside him. "I came back to get something and heard you yell."

  "Cramp." Pietas pushed himself back. "I'm fine. It's--" He grunted as his muscles knotted again.

  "Where is it?"

  "Back." He tried to reach it, but wasn't limber enough to bend.

  "Lemme work on it." Six moved behind him and began kneading the area. "Lean forward a bit."

  The massage itself hurt, but helped. "That's a good hurt."

  "I know the feeling." Six worked his way up Pietas's back and began kneading his shoulders. "You're tight. Take it easy a minute."

  As the pain eased, Pietas relaxed beneath his touch. "You're good at this."

  "Good to know I have my uses."

  "Yes, you do." He reached up and patted Six's hand. "Thank you."

  Six kept working on his shoulders. "How often do you get cramps?"

  Every day. Every night. Ever since the pod. Which he would never admit.

  Pietas took a deep breath. "I can usually stretch and relieve it, but this time I was sitting with my feet in water and couldn't."

  "Can I ask you something?" Six kept kneading Pietas's shoulders, which made it impossible to see the ghost's face.

  "Of course."

  "When an Ultra dies, is it painful coming back to life?"

  To admit such a thing to a human was unthinkable. But this was Six.

  "When we're reborn, every cell in our body bursts. It's the worst pain you can imagine. You're on fire, burning from the inside out. You can't breathe. Can't think."

  "Is that what you went through in the pod?" He squeezed Pietas's shoulders. "Please. Tell me the truth."

  "I do not lie, ghost."

  "Then answer me."

  "Yes. Repeatedly. Daily. Endlessly. It was a living nightmare. Ultras are soldiers. Warriors. Humans expected us to die so they wouldn't have to. They designed Ultras to come back from the dead so we could protect them. They made Ultras to suffer for them."

  "Is that why you hate humans? Because they created you to suffer? To die?"

  "No." He twisted around and faced the ghost. "I hate them because they thought it was okay for someone else to suffer so they didn't have to. While we died and were reborn in agony, they attended plays and recitals. While we were being slaughtered on the battlefield, coming back to life in a pool of our own blood, they slept in their safe, warm beds. They did not care about us. Our deaths were a sacrifice they were willing to make and they expected us to keep on dying. They abused us, misused our talents and expected us to take it without complaint. That is why I hate humans."

  Six sat back, facing him. He wrapped his arms around his upraised knees. "I'm sorry, Pietas. I'm sorry humans failed you so badly."

  Well practiced in rebuttal, he had no answer for kindness. Instead, he nudged his chin toward Six. He would not accept the apology. Six could not make it on behalf of mankind. Still, the offer touched him. It stung to ask for aid, but perhaps it would show how much Pietas valued the man if Six were allowed to see him admit a weakness.

  "Since you're here, how about helping me up? I think I'd like to go back to camp."

  "Sure thing." Six stood and held down a hand.

  * * * *

  Every day, Pietas worked on his compulsion ability. He had no one to target but Six. There was no change in anything the man did or said. Prior to imprisonment, for practice, Pietas would ask for some item he needed, such as a stylus. He wouldn't say which one or what type, but instead, as whoever was near reached for one, Pietas extended a wave of compulsion to choose the desired item. It never failed. Each person always picked the one he wanted. People who entered his presence would turn around and leave without Pietas saying a word. Practicing with small things made the big things second nature.

  He had once turned a whole division and made them attack their comrades. But coerce Six? Might as well ask the sun for ice. Was it because he was a ghost? Or was it inherent in his nature?

  Pietas sent Six a strong wave of compulsion to come to him, but the ghost continued filleting a fish without the least pause.

  Casting himself back onto the grass in a fit of pique, Pietas stared up at the sky. He'd had more control as a child! Would he have to start over and relearn everything? Was the gift lost? He'd honed it for centuries. Surely, it was not lost. Please, let it not be lost... He recalled the first time he'd used compulsion to get his way.

  He was eight years old. His father had taken him out in the wilds, hunting. The day ended with Mahikos carrying him home. He'd slept on his father's shoulder, snuggled next to his neck. It was one of few happy memories he had of his father.

  That night, Mahikos placed him and his sister in chairs at the table and put wonderful-smelling cooked meat before them.

  "Dessy," his father said, "you may eat, but Pietas, you are not to eat until I tell you. Do you understand? A warrior must learn obedience. He must learn to follow before he can lead."

  "Yes, Father."

  Dessy sat up straight. "I'm a warrior, too, Father!"

  "Yes, you are, my sweet and you will be powerful, but tonight's lesson is for Pietas. Yours will come later. For now,
eat your dinner." He kissed her on the head and left the room.

  Dessy cut up the meat on her plate and began to eat. She kept looking over at Pietas, who eyed her food.

  He licked his lips and used his gift of compulsion to make her do as he wished.

  She got on her knees on the chair and craned her neck. "Nobody can see. Here, Tas." She put a chunk of meat in his mouth.

  He chewed fast, swallowed. His twin gave him another bite and he ate that too.

  "Pietas!" Mahikos stormed into the room. "Are you eating?"

  He leaped to his feet, rigid and straight. "Yes, Father."

  "You disobeyed me." He slammed one hand on the table, making the plates jump and rattle.

  With a cry of alarm, Dessy bolted out of her chair and huddled behind Pietas.

  Mahikos jabbed a finger toward him. "A warrior never disobeys an order."

  "I'm sorry, Father."

  "Dessy, did you give your brother food or did he take it?"

  Behind him, his sister whimpered.

  Pietas shielded her. "Punish me, Father. I'm the one who ate the meat."

  "Let Dessy answer for herself." Mahikos chose a switch he kept on a shelf. "Come out from behind your brother this instant."

  Trembling, she stood beside Pietas and slipped her hand in his.

  "Did you give your brother food?"

  She stuck a finger in her mouth, her eyes filling with tears.

  "Father." He put himself between his sister and Mahikos. "Punish me."

  "Silence, Pietas! Let your sister answer."

  "Dess." Pietas turned to her. "Tell him I took it."

  Her chin quivered, huge gray eyes wide with fear. She held Pietas's gaze and seemed about to argue.

  It took considerable amounts of compulsion to overpower her will. "Tell him I took the food."

  "He t-took it, Father."

  "Very well, Dessy. You may go to your room while I punish Pietas."

  Tears streaking down her face, Dessy fled.

  Mahikos pulled out a chair and dropped into it. He set the switch on the table and beckoned Pietas closer.

  He stood ramrod straight before his father.

  "Did you use compulsion on her, Son?"

  "I used it to get the food, like you told me. You said not to use it at the end."

  "Excellent. You did well. A warrior uses whatever skills are needed to obtain food, or to win a battle. Remember that. Never have any regrets about using your compulsion. It's your right to survive."

  "Yes, Father. I told you she would lie for me. I was right. I win the bet."

  "Not so fast. You coerced her. I felt your compulsion."

  "Sir, no one can feel compulsion aimed at others. No one but Dessy knows if I used it."

  Mahikos sat back. "Very good, Son. What did you learn about compulsion by doing this experiment?"

  He'd learned he was immune to it, as was his father and that Dessy could resist, up to a point. More importantly, he'd seen for himself what Dessy had claimed, that their father would turn them against one another to prove a point. But he also knew what his father expected him to acknowledge.

  "Compulsion is a tool. It should not be overused. A good hunter doesn't use big guns on small game."

  "Excellent! I can see you've been listening to your mother's teaching, as well. Tell me one other thing you learned today about Compulsion."

  "Such as?"

  "Anything. Whatever you think of." He stroked his chin and stared at Pietas.

  He considered his father's words, looking for any traps the man might have set. "I like using it."

  "Why?"

  Pietas linked his hands together before him. "I like knowing how things will turn out. If I coerce someone into acting, I can know that."

  "You can never know how things will turn out, Son, but you can plan and set things in motion. If you manipulate with care, it often works. But no plan is foolproof. All people, even Ultras, have the ability to choose. If they choose a different path from the one you planned, you must be able to compensate. Alter your plan."

  "I can do that. I'm good at planning."

  "Yes, you are, Pietas. It's one of your strengths."

  "Thank you, Father. You said if I got Dessy to lie for me, you wouldn't punish her for feeding me when she knew you'd told me not to eat."

  "That's right and I won't. Consider this, Son. If a person will lie for you, they will lie to you. Never trust anyone who lies for you."

  He considered that. How like his father to turn him against his sister. What would he tell her to do to him? Would he succeed? How would he convince her to twist Pietas? He was not sure he wanted to know.

  "But you lied to me, Pietas."

  He stiffened. "Sir, I did not."

  "You told Dessy to say you took her food."

  "Yes, sir. I told her to lie. I did not lie myself."

  "That is excellent reasoning, Son. You've learned well."

  "Thank you, Father."

  The man stood and started toward the door.

  "Sir, you're forgetting something."

  He halted and then looked back. "Ah, the switch." He picked it up and put it on the shelf.

  Pietas tugged at the man's coat. "No, Father. You told Dessy you were going to punish me. She'll expect to see the marks."

  Mahikos perched on the edge of the chair. "Are you telling me you want me punish you?"

  "I don't want to be punished. I want you to mark me as if I were."

  "I can't mark you without punishing you. Why do you want this, Pietas? Explain your reasoning."

  "If I show up without marks, Dessy will know I wasn't in trouble. She'll think I coerced her. I'll lose the advantage I gained by doing this experiment."

  "What advantage is that?"

  "She'll feel sorry for me and be nice to me. She'll do what I want. We had a bet about how she'd act and I won. If I don't carry this all the way out, I won't win."

  "I acknowledged you won, Pietas. You don't warrant punishment."

  "Sir, I do. I made the bet. I will honor the debt. I want the win on honest terms. A warrior does not cheat. A warrior does not lie."

  "And that's important to you? Important enough to take a lashing?"

  How could his father not understand? "I want the win." He placed his hand flat on the table. "Since it's my choice, two lashes on the hand are enough."

  Mahikos stood and took down the switch. "Nice touch, Son, and I can feel the Compulsion you aimed my way. It was considerable. However, I'm the father. Since you're the one insisting on doing this, I think one will do."

  "Yes, Father." He squared his shoulders. "I'm ready."

  No matter how hard or how long it took, Pietas would get back every power, every gift and every ability. He would own everything he'd lost. No one robbed Pietas ap Lorectic, First Conqueror, War Leader of the Ultras and got away with it.

  Humanity had tried to rob him of his birthright, but they would not prevail. And for trying, they would pay with their lives.

  * * * *

  Days passed into weeks.

  Six spent time hunting, fishing, gathering wood for the fire, hauling water. He gave no indication of impatience, ever. Six was at his side, offering, assisting, without Pietas having to ask.

  One evening after dinner, they stretched out side by side near the fire, staring up at the stars.

  "Thank you, Six."

  "For what?"

  "You've been good to me. I appreciate it. I don't say that enough."

  He folded his hands over his waist. "No problem. Glad to do it, Three Point One Four."

  "Three point..." Pietas grappled with what the number might indicate. "Pardon?"

  "I've decided that's your name. Now that we're friends."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "Your name." Six sat up. "Since you call me Six, I'm going to call you Three Point One Four."

  "I fail to see the significance of the number."

  "Really?" A big grin crossed Six's face. "And
here I thought you were good at math. It's pi."

  "No!" Pietas sat bolt upright. "I forbid you to call me that. I am Pietas. Pee-ah-toss."

  "I dunno. I'm partial to Pi. I think I'll keep it."

  "No. You may not call me Pi."

  "Why not?"

  "It is not my name!"

  "Oh, you mean like Six isn't mine. It's a number."

  "Simple remedy. Tell me your name."

  The quiet lengthened, but then Six stretched both arms over his head and gave a wide yawn. "Nah. I don't think so."

  "Fine, then." Pietas settled himself on the ground once more. "Six it is."

  "Guess I'm stuck with it." He grinned at Pietas as he stood. "Pi."

  Pietas sent an empathic icicle Six's way. Infuriating person!

  "Back at you, Ultra."

  Chapter Eighteen

  By the end of the second month, with no support, Pietas stood without assistance. Halfway through the next month, using the stick Six had fashioned for him, he walked to the creek. He could not walk without the stick for balance and support, but he continued trying.

  The beginning of the next month, Pietas stumbled and fell, scraping both hands and a knee. Instead of the usual instant healing, the scraped skin stung for hours. Signs of healing didn't start until the next day.

  Two weeks later, while sitting beside the creek, Pietas dangled a length of fishing line in the water. He lassoed it to a rock, braced his back against a boulder and crossed his ankles. "This day is so beautiful."

  "Uh huh." Six tended the three lines he had going, each in a different part of the creek.

  "How good the weather is on this world. I'm quite pleased with it. If we have to be marooned here, at least we're not facing constant storms or stuck in a desert."

  "I hope it lasts."

  "You think it won't?" Pietas craned his neck, but in this part of the creek, under the canopy of trees, the sky showed up as blue specks.

  "No place has perfect weather. It must rain sometime. Trees don't get as big as these or the creek full without rain."

  "Ah, of course. I knew that. My mother is a consummate terraformer. She taught me about the cycles of life and renewal and how planets replenish themselves before I was ten. She made me learn the name of every plant and animal in existence, I think. I got caught up in enjoying the beauty and forgot my lessons."