Pearseus Bundle: The Complete Pearseus Sci-fi/Fantasy Series
Page 20
Cyrus shook his head. “Nothing. There’s no greater failure than success through wrong means.”
Buddha’s smile widened. “In that case, I’ll give you all success.”
David woke up with a start. He tried to go back to sleep, but his head throbbed, making his stomach queasy. He let his legs dangle from the bed for a while, then rose to his feet and paced the room. His discomfort only grew stronger. In the end, he decided to visit Cyrus. Perhaps talking to his friend would relax him.
He slowly pushed Cyrus’s door open, not wanting to disturb him. “Are you…” he started to say, then froze at the strangest sight. A creature lay down prone, hovering above the cold, stone floor, as if hanging from invisible threads. Its face was human-like, but its wavy, long grey hair flowed on its back and dropped towards the floor, almost touching it. It had a hard, light brown skin that seemed to be made of hair and feathers stuck together. The oval body had human shoulders, but ended in an appendix resembling a vertical tail fin. David stared into its eyes and was surprised that they were animal-like, with no sign of intelligence or self-awareness.
“What’s this?” he asked the Voice, but there was no reply. Of course. She had all but disappeared since they had entered the Forest. A terrible feeling of loneliness filled his heart as he realised he had to deal with the creature on his own.
It glided towards Cyrus’s bed and David cut its way waving wildly. A girl’s voice behind him startled him.
“Are you here to take the soul? What a good boy.”
He spun around. A thin arm emerged from under the bed. The creature hang still for a second, then yelped and quivered, like a puppy happy to see its owner. A blond, slim girl crawled out from under the bed. Her pale, pretty face bore an eerie calm. She looked no older than ten years old. She caressed the creature with a tender hand. It nudged its head against her, and David half-expected it to purr like a kitten. Then her eyes met David’s, and he gaped at the darkest blue eyes he had ever seen, the colour of a dead sea.
“Hurry up,” she whispered. “If you want to save your friend, you must break the scissors.”
He frowned. “What scissors?” he asked, then noticed a large pair of golden scissors in the creature’s folded hands. He slid under the creature and swiftly pried the scissors away, while the girl stalled it for his benefit. The creature glided towards him, as if noticing him for the first time. Surprisingly, its movement was neither fast nor threatening. David stepped back and tried in vain to break the hard metal. He threw the scissors onto the floor and jumped on them in a desperate attempt to break them.
“Hurry up,” the girl whispered again, urgency ringing in her voice. The creature edged closer. David reached for his sword, remembering he had left it in his room. No time to fetch it now. He picked up the scissors again and threw them at the creature, trying to scare it away. They froze mid-air, and the creature reached up and grabbed them. It then spun leisurely around to glide towards Cyrus’s bed, while David’s eyes darted around the room in a desperate search for a weapon. Before he could find anything, the creature plunged the scissors into Cyrus’s chest in one swift move.
Cyrus’s mouth gaped in an inaudible sigh, allowing a thin blue mist to slither out. David lunged at the creature, pushing it away. It let out a soft whimper before gliding back again. David grabbed the scissors and yanked them out. Cyrus drew a deep breath and the mist dissolved. As the creature approached, still expressionless, David searched in panic for something that could break the scissors, rubbing his bracelet nervously. It pulsed softly under his fingers and he glanced at his wrist in awe. The decorative lines now shone with a throbbing light blue glow that accentuated its elegant simplicity. The gem at its centre sparkled with life.
The creature had almost reached him by now, and he held up his hand without thinking. The metal twisted and turned and the bracelet morphed into a glove that circled his palm. The blue gem climbed to the top of his hand, clicking in place between a two-thronged claw that encircled it. As the creature reached for the scissors, David pointed his hand at its head.
The gem shone briefly, and a blue line travelled along the grooves, ending at the claw. It hovered there for an endless moment, undecided, then turned into a crackling ball of light that struck the creature with a loud crack that sent it crashing against the wall. It cried in pain, an inhuman shriek of agony that made David cover his ears. Tiny jolts of energy travelled along its body, as it gathered its strength. David threw the scissors on the ground and pointed the glove at them to fire a second burst. The creature let out an unearthly scream as they broke into a million pieces. David thought he heard a second wail far away as both creature and little girl vanished. He lowered his gaze at his hand, but it was empty again. The warm silver bracelet with a pretty, if dull, blue gem at its centre slept on his wrist.
He remained still for a while, wondering if this had been a dream, then poked Cyrus to make sure he was still alive before slumping on the bed, exhausted yet relieved. Both his headache and unease had finally disappeared. After a while he returned to his room and fell into an uneventful sleep.
The soft orange morning light streaming into the room woke him up. At first he could not remember where he was, then last night’s events rushed back to him. He hurried to Cyrus’s room. Cyrus was not there, but urgent voices rang from further up. He climbed some stairs to find two guards outside a bedroom. They stepped aside to allow him entrance to the old man’s bedroom. Two-horns stood in front of the bed, questioning a third guard.
The old man was lying dead in his bed, mouth opened in a silent gasp. In death there was something unreal about him, as if he were but an old sigil on a wall. A small, ornate silver frame stood on the nightstand, containing a picture of a familiar young girl with a pretty, expressive face, around ten, with beautiful wavy hair and sadness in her eyes.
“What happened here?” he asked. “Where’s Cyrus?”
Two-horns shook his head. “We only know our host is no more. He died in his sleep. Cyrus is tending the horses. We leave as soon as we bury the old man.”
He examined David. “You alright? You look tired.”
David placed the picture back on the nightstand. “I didn’t sleep much last night.”
Two-horns rubbed tired eyes. “Me neither. I dreamed of my boy. And I heard a wraith.” The old man shuddered at the memory. “Not much scares me, but this did. I asked in the morning. Everyone heard it, too.” He frowned at David. “You know anything about it?”
Before David could answer, a muffled sound made them both prick their ears. Recognising the sound of the horn, they uttered a single word, unconsciously reaching for the weapons in their belts: “Fallen.”
Jonia outskirts, Jonian Democracies
Parad
Parad rode next to Tang, his unexpected freedom and the glorious Jonian sun warming his face making him happier than he’d been in a long time. Even the icy wind numbing any exposed flesh failed to threaten his mirth.
Tang must have read his mind, for he made the same comment: “It’s good to have you back, sir.”
A thin smile crept on Parad’s lips. “It’s good to be back, my friend.”
The justice had ordered Parad to make the trip to Jonia and negotiate with the rebels. He was a soldier, not a diplomat, but she had argued that no-one could refuse the hero of Petria, whereas saying no to a diplomat would be far easier. He had but one request: that Tang escort him. Tang’s skin had taken a bronze hue, the result of his last station in the southern desert. A deep scar starting at his neck and diving downwards under his leather vest served as a reminder of their last battle together. A spear had almost killed him, but it was a testament to his iron will that he had clung to life nevertheless.
Parad’s first instinct had been to have Gella escort him, but had asked for Tang instead. He had no idea what he would say to her next time they met, but more than simple apprehension had influenced his decision. His gut told him this would not be the easy assignment Styx made
it out to be. On some profoundly deep level the need to protect Gella burned deep within him, although in truth it was his own standing with Styx that hung by a thread.
Regardless, he felt grateful for every moment of freedom, having known first-hand how fast it could end. Riding with his aide and friend by his side, Parad was at peace once more. They trotted ahead of their bannermen and guards, leaving enough distance to talk freely.
Parad glanced behind them. “Are these your men, Tang? I don’t recognise any of them.”
“No sir, the Harpy herself chose them.”
“I didn’t realise she placed such high value on our well-being,” Parad mused.
Tang threw him a sideways glance. “She must really want you to succeed, I guess,” he said drily.
He feels it too, there’s more to this assignment than meets the eye, Parad thought. He nodded towards one of the guards, a young man with a triangular face, short, charcoal hair and defiant obsidian eyes. “That boy reminds me of Cyrus. I think he’s called Annoush.”
The casual mention of Cyrus’s name startled Tang. He stole a look at the guard and raised his shoulders, failing to see any strong resemblance. They rode in silence for a while.
“How was the south, Tang?”
“Dry. Hot. There were some pockets of resistance at first, but things are pretty calm now.” He paused. “We did worry about you, though,” he said with a soft voice, straining with unasked questions.
No reply came, so Tang nodded towards the open fields around them. “Don’t you feel the need to gallop around, enjoy your freedom?”
Parad pursed his lips. “One of the things I realised in prison is that you’re not truly free until you get over the need to prove your freedom.”
“Sir?”
“What is freedom?”
“The right to do as you wish?”
“No, that’s tyranny. Doing anything you wish is the surest path to jail or an early grave.”
“What then?”
“Some think it’s the right to impose your own limits.”
“I see…”
“Even that, however, is bogus. Life and physics place their own, pretty strict limits on you. For example, we can’t breathe underwater. And yet not many people lose sleep over that. Whereas you impose a curfew and half a city revolts. Why’s that?”
“We’ve learned to accept it?”
“Exactly. Which means we’re free to choose what bothers us and what does not. Once you realise nothing that happens in the world need bother you, that’s when you are really free. Stop trying to control life; you can only control your response to it. That’s where your freedom lies. Any pretence to impose your will on the world is not just misleading, but dangerous. You get lost trying to change the world instead of changing yourself.”
“But how’s anything going to improve then? I mean, if we don’t try to change the world for the better?”
“It’s ideas that shape the world. People say they want to change the world, but what they mean is, I want to make everyone see things my way. Even when they genuinely believe their way is the best one—which most do, or they’d change their beliefs—they’re still tyrants. It’s ego, pure and simple; who gives you the right to change others? Perhaps they’re just fine, and it’s you that needs to change. No, the best you can do is live your life as best as you can, and hope others follow your example. Stop trying to shape the world in your image; lead by example instead. If everyone did that, the world would already be a better place.”
“Is that what you’ve done?”
Parad laughed, shaking his head. “I’m not there yet. I still enjoy riding more than rotting in a cell. What happens around me still bothers me. I still can’t forgive Styx for everything she’s done. I’m simply trying to recognise what’s a problem and what’s not.”
“A problem?”
“I’ve come to think of problems as internal conflicts. We call a situation problematic when we don’t know how to deal with it. When one’s at peace, though, they know how to react to anything. Then, nothing is a problem.”
“But things around us impact us, don’t they?”
“Only if you let them. Take me, for example. I couldn’t find peace until I learned to let go. I hated Styx for so long, then I saw Marta’s pain kill our marriage. I asked myself, what can all my hatred get me? I could kill Styx; then what? Would it bring back my son, help me find peace?”
“So you’ve forgiven her?”
“No. But I let go of my anger. I wanted to be happy again, and make that my revenge.”
“I see that prison has made you quite the philosopher, sir,” said Tang half-jokingly.
Parad thumped his chest. “Don’t get me wrong. Pain comes from refusing to accept change. I may have accepted my son’s death, but there’s still a hole in my heart where he used to be; I doubt I’ll ever be whole again. But I have to try.” He grinned. “Still, it’s true that prison had its benefits. To be honest, Styx treated me better than I expected. She even gave me an e-lib. For the first time in ages, I had all the time I needed to think. You know what they say: ‘cultivation of the mind is as necessary as food for the body.’ In prison, I realised that my mind, my soul, had been starving for years.”
“So how did you do it, sir? How did you find your inner peace?”
“The only way there is. By letting go of all my wishes, my fears, my regrets and my pleasures. If you have no desires but simply live in the moment, you can be happy whatever happens around you, before it’s too late to enjoy it. As you grow older, you realise that the times you think of as having to get through, too often end up as those you wish you had held on to.”
Tang bobbed his head in agreement. “You remind me of a story my father used to tell. Two tigers are chasing a woman. She runs through the woods, reaching the edge of a cliff. One of the tigers is still behind her, so she climbs down a vine. She looks down and notices the other tiger waiting for her underneath. While she hangs there, a mouse comes out and gnaws on the vine. She tries to shoo it away, but it won’t go. Just then, she notices a wild strawberry growing out of the face of the cliff in front of her. She picks it and eats it; it’s the best strawberry she’s ever tasted.”
Parad pondered the story for a moment, his brow furrowed. “I’m not sure I get it…”
“It didn’t make any sense to me either, until he explained that the two tigers are birth and death. We’re born and can’t go back, and are doomed to death from the moment we come into this world. The mouse is time, gnawing away at our life. So, all we can do is make the best of it and enjoy it while it lasts.”
Parad chuckled. “Your father was a strange man, to tell such stories to a kid.”
“It taught me the importance of letting go of both past regrets and future fears.”
“Yes. That’s exactly what I mean. What stopped me from getting over my son’s death was the feeling I’d be betraying him if I moved on. My guilt for doing nothing to prevent his death. That’s what made me so angry, but in truth there was nothing I could’ve done. I only wish Marta would see that and stop torturing herself.”
Tang noticed Parad’s mouth twitch at the mention of his wife. “Did you have a chance to see her before you left?”
Parad’s face drooped at the memory. “Yes, but it was not a happy meeting. She’s not the woman I married. It’s not just Cyrus; she’s in a very dark place. Nothing I said made a difference. I think she, too, has realised how fleeting life is, but has despaired because of it.”
Tang shook his head. “As I said, you’ve become quite the philosopher, sir.”
This time, Parad laughed heartily. “I told you I read a lot. Do you know what’s the most important thing I read, the one that probably makes me ideal for our mission? It’s a quote from Cicero: ‘I prefer the most unfair peace to the most righteous war.’ ”
“That’s great, sir, but are you sure you wish for a career change at your age?”
“Perhaps it takes so much death to convince
you of the value of life.”
The sound of horses galloping towards them cut their conversation short. Alarmed, they slowed their pace to allow their guards to catch up with them. The strangers bore Teo Altman’s banner; three gold disks forming a triangle. Parad knew the disks represented coins, and hid a discreet smile at how appropriate this was to a man well known for his love of gold.
Teo emerged from behind the bannermen. He raised his hand to stop his guards, then rode ahead and beckoned that they should meet away from their escorts. Parad motioned a silent command to Tang and left him behind to meet Teo on his own. As soon as Parad approached, Teo greeted him jovially.
“Well met, General.”
“Master Altman.”
“Such formality. Please, call me just Teo.”
“Just Teo, then.” He grinned, then turned serious again. “To what do we owe this unexpected pleasure?”
“I have great need of your assistance, as it happens. You do know that our beloved justice has sent me to talk to the rebels?”
“So I’ve heard. But I take it talks are not going well, or she wouldn’t have sent me as well.”
“Indeed. The problem is that I’ve agreed to work with the rebels; however, they need to trust me.”
“Trust is not easily given away.”
“I couldn’t agree more, General. It should be founded on deeds, not words. Which is why our justice sent you.”
“How can I help you, then?”
“Why, by surrendering.”
Parad’s hands clutched his reins. “Excuse me?”
“If I can deliver them the great General Parad, hero of Petria, my standing among the rebels will rise greatly.”
Parad scoffed at the man’s audacity, yet part of him was not surprised. He now knew what his gut had been telling him all along. Styx had betrayed him once more. “And what would stop me from explaining all this to your rebel friends?”
Teo grinned. “I could tear out your tongue, I suppose. But I doubt I’ll need to. You see, my dear General, you’re a patriot. You’ve always put your life on the line for the Capital. By accusing me, all you’ll manage is to die a dishonourable death… But this way, your sacrifice will have meaning. No, I think you’d rather keep silent and keep your honour intact.”