Teo had asked for this meeting to complete his mission, convincing Lycus to help Jonia.
“I have a small gift for you, Secretary.” He presented an ornate energy sword, one of Jonia’s most precious possessions. She held it in her hands and flicked the switch. His breath caught for a moment, then a soft sigh escaped his lips as the energy arc lit up. Her face glowed at the feel of its power as it hummed softly under her hand.
“I hope it honours you and Scorpio appropriately.”
“You’ve been a true friend of Scorpio, Teo Altman. Thank you.”
“It is I who should thank you, for crushing the Capital’s enemies. How did Argon’s defeat feel?”
Her eyes shone. “As splendid as any victory.”
“But Argon. Surely not the most brave of enemies.”
She leaned back and tapped her fingers on her chair, giving him a hard stare. “What’re you saying?”
“Have you thought about fighting an enemy worthy of your swords? Perhaps even beating the strongest enemy of them all—the Capital itself?”
Her brow furrowed. “Why would we want to do that?”
“Think of the challenge,” he said with all the excitement he could muster. “The glory.”
She raised a sceptical eyebrow. “Why risk everything we have for something we don’t need?”
“Why not? You’re rulers of the west. Surely you can rule the east as well? If you join Jonia, we can make it happen.”
“In war, the way’s to avoid what’s strong and to strike at what’s weak. The Capital is strong; war against it would be long. No country can benefit from a long war.”
“I thought you Scorpions lived for war,” he blurted out.
She gave him a knowing half-smile. “We live to win wars, not fight them. The only way to win a war is to know when to fight and when not to.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Teo Altman. We cannot help you.”
She rose to show the meeting was over, and he mimicked her, bowing his head in reverence until she had left the room, followed by the two statues. He slumped back into his chair, picked up a strawberry and put it in his mouth, lost in thought. He grimaced at the sourness and spat it out. The meeting had not gone as planned. Which only left him one possible destination for the final leg of his journey; the very one he was both hoping to avoid and looking forward to the most: Anthea.
Army barracks, Jonia, Jonian Democracies
Paul
Paul studied the two prisoners through the narrow slit in the cell’s door. The famous general looked just like any other older man to him. His spies had told him of Parad’s efforts to educate his new aide. Paul had allowed it, even lending them his e-lib. The thought amused him and he smiled, seeing Annoush study in their cell, his face reflecting the e-lib’s glow. What’s the point? he wondered for the hundredth time.
Months had passed since their capture and much had changed in the meantime. He had been excited to hear of Argon’s defeat. Scorpio helping them would turn the tide of the war in their favour. Not just because they were the best soldiers on Pearseus, but also due to the morale boost to the rebels. He doubted, however, whether they could be persuaded to risk a protracted war against the Capital, as they loathed leaving their city for long. Despite the brutal repression, regular rebellions were the price Scorpio paid for ruling with an iron fist.
To prevent revolts, the best and brightest of Scorpion graduates joined the dreaded Wolves: a unit dedicated to uprooting any resistance to Scorpio. These young men and women bore no identifying papers or badges. They travelled alone, watching for any sign of trouble or defiance to Scorpio rule. They were jury, judge and executioner and had the right to kill anyone they found guilty on the spot. A wistful grin appeared on Paul’s square face. The things I could do with a company of Wolves… Still, hardly a generation’s passed without at least one serious rebellion. What does that tell you?
Despite half-expecting it, Scorpio’s rebuttal had devastated him. All that gold, spent for nothing. I hope Teo didn’t blow it all on women and booze. He chuckled at the thought, then turned serious again. The Scorpions’ refusal meant that the rebels would need another morale boost, and Paul could only think of one: a long-delayed execution. He did not like it, of course, but had no choice; his men needed it, and that is all that mattered.
He waved at the guards and they burst into the cell. His face hardened when they lowered their eyes to avoid Parad’s gaze. Both prisoners seemed to know what the intrusion meant. To Paul’s surprise, neither of them begged or pleaded. Annoush simply turned to Parad and said, “I guess this is it, sir.”
A smile flickered on Parad’s lips. “We’re not dead yet.”
Annoush stood up defiantly and let the guards tie his hands behind his back.
Paul shook his head as the two men passed by him. No, not yet. But soon enough…
Parad
A dozen guards, led by a gruff sergeant, escorted them through the empty barracks. Where is everybody? Fighting the Capital? Or preparing for the execution? How many Jonians does it take to kill two people, anyway? Parad chuckled and the sergeant threw him a surprised sideways glance. Well, what’s the worst that can happen at this point? Let it be said that the hero of Petria laughed in the face of death. He chortled, ignoring the startled stares.
He assumed they were being led to the city square. They exited the barracks from a side door and he brought his palm to his eyes to protect them from the early morning sun, iron chains dangling before his face. Only two guards stood watch at the door behind them, holding a horse by the reins. The sergeant rode this and nudged them, to keep them moving. The street stood empty, the citizens already gathered at the square.
They turned the first corner, no-one but a score of First around. First? What’re they doing here? They hate cities. They wore the leather jerkins common to First and deep hoods to protect them from the morning chill. Maybe they’re here to sell their furs. They’re probably waiting for the shops to open. Well, good luck with that. They’ll probably have to wait until tomorrow.
The sergeant barked an order and the First parted, bowing their heads in respect. They spread on both sides of the narrow street as the procession passed them. Then one of them removed his hood; a slim young man with a thin beard. He raised his hand and Parad watched wide-eyed a blue ball of light fly from his hand, hitting the sergeant in the back. It sent him flying off his horse.
This must have been a signal, for all First snapped the hoods from their heads and bared their swords. The guards scarcely had a chance to fight back as the attackers slaughtered them in seconds. Spotting energy swords among their weapons, the likes of which he had never seen before, sent a shiver up and down Parad’s spine. If the First have energy weapons, we have much bigger problems than a stupid rebellion.
One guard escaped, running back towards the barracks, but a ball of light sent him crashing against a house before he had a chance to turn the corner. A one-armed First finished him off with a brutal energy sword. The whole experience had been dreamlike, everything happening so fast that Parad’s brain had a hard time interpreting what his eyes took in. Annoush stood frozen in place, white as snow. Parad was about to tell him to run, when an urgent voice called him.
“General! Thees way! Queeck!”
One of the two First with the energy swords motioned them towards her, a pretty young woman with fire tattoos.
“Are you alreeght?” she asked him anxiously in the melodic accent of the First as her fiery sword cut through their bonds. The smoking irons clang to the ground.
He nodded, rubbing his wrists. The young man who had shot the first volley approached them and took Parad’s hand into his.
“It’s an honour, sir.”
Parad blinked and drew back, failing to recognise him. Despite a faint First accent, it was obvious he was human. “Who are you?”
“My name’s David. Please follow us. We don’t have long before they realise what’s happened.”
“Follow you?
Where?”
The street only had two exits; one back to the barracks, and one leading to the square where his executioner waited. David put two fingers in his mouth and whistled, a thin smile playing on his lips. Two of the First slid a heavy grate off the street. Parad nodded, comprehension hitting him. Jonia had an extensive sewage system running underneath the city, Walker’s pride and joy at the time. It led all the way to the sea.
The First threw the guards’ corpses into the opening and swept the blood with rags, throwing them down the gutter. Once they were done, they motioned for Parad and Annoush to jump down.
The strong stench of sewage hit Parad, who nevertheless thought he had never smelt anything so nice before: it was the smell of freedom, the smell of life, the smell of death cheated. He stepped over a guard’s corpse to follow the First leading him down the narrow pathway, a single torch at their head showing the way to freedom.
He pondered their plan, admiring their efficiency. From the street, it would seem as if they had simply vanished into thin air. He hoped Jonians would waste enough time searching the houses around the area to give them a chance to reach safety. The First moved fast; had he not exercised daily in their cell, he might not have been able to keep up.
“Who are you?” he whispered, but David placed a finger on his lips.
“Not here.”
Parad had no choice but to follow them. He had no idea how long they had been walking, but when they reached a narrow opening and slipped outside, the sun was already high up in the sky. He squinted, trying to get used to the bright light. They had arrived at a small cove by the sea. The First shoved them anxiously into a small boat, then pushed it into the water. They rowed furiously, heading towards a small ship anchored close to the shore. As soon as they reached it, they climbed a rope ladder and stepped onto the deck. The woman shouted orders and sailors hurried around them, raising the sails, preparing to leave.
Parad studied the busy men. They impressed him and worried him in equal measure. They had executed their operation with military precision and a discipline not normally associated with the First. The sailors looked human, but even so the First commandeered the ship; something unheard of them. Even worse, they possessed energy weapons better than anything he had ever seen before. The Capital should be informed of this; but first he should find out more, perhaps even steal some evidence. Perhaps it would be best if he played along for now. Anyway, it would be madness to return empty-handed to Styx; she would execute him as soon as she laid eyes on him. Maybe the Western Democracies would be more inclined to listen to him…
Lost in troubled thoughts, he failed to hear the young man approaching. He jolted when he heard a gentle cough behind him. Spinning around, he almost bumped into a tall, hooded, strong-looking First. David, the burly one-armed man and the woman with the painted face formed a protective circle around him. He must be their leader. Finally, some answers.
The stranger removed his hood to show his bearded, strangely familiar face. After the morning’s strange events, Parad thought nothing more could surprise him. Then, the man said two words Parad had never expected to hear again: “Hello, father.”
Anthea, Western Democracies
April 37, Teo
Why had Sol agreed to see him in private? Could he be walking into a trap? His heart thumped as he followed the guard. On one hand, his words would be dangerous if they fell on the wrong ears; on the other he might be safer in a large crowd if she as much as suspected his involvement in the Temple Hill attempt. Having paid off so many people to spy on others, he felt justified in his paranoia.
The guard motioned him to stop, then searched him. When satisfied, he opened the door to Sol’s private audition and waved him in. All this left him mildly bemused and wondering whether the unfortunate Temple Hill affair had left her paranoid, or if she reserved this special treatment for him alone.
He stepped into the room and took a deep bow. The sunlight warming the room from behind her bathed her in light, half-blinding him and leaving her a silhouetted figure on a low chair. Two guards stood on the corners of the room, still as breathing statues.
Sol was nothing like he had expected. He had heard her described as a fine, canny young woman. Instead, he found a prematurely aged woman with worry lines on her face. An ugly scar on her brow reminded everyone of the arrow that had almost cost her life on that fatal day on Temple Hill.
An arrow he had paid to be released from its bow. Even with the sun in his eyes, gazing into her shrewd eyes he saw the trauma of her lost sibling closer to the surface than he would have liked. He wondered for a second if she knew all and coming to Anthea proved to be the last mistake he ever made.
His insecurity heightened; he had to carefully pick his words. Taking a deep breath, he tried to empty his mind of his fears and focus on the job at hand instead.
“Teo Altman,” she rasped. “We meet again.”
“Thank you for agreeing to see the humble envoy of your Eastern brethren,” Teo said in a honeyed voice, wondering what she meant by that. Had he met her before?
He shook the thought off; perhaps they had bumped into each other in the past. It made no difference. His words had been a deliberate attempt to remind her that envoys were considered sacred and harming them was deeply sacrilegious. Then again, so was attacking someone on Temple Hill—on the equinox, of all days, he reminded himself and shuddered.
“No need to be modest, Teo Altman. I know fully well who you are and what you want.”
Something in her voice made him apologize. “I’ve made many mistakes in my past; I hope you won’t hold them against me now, but listen to the plea of Jonia.”
“Have no fear; your request shall be weighed on its own, separate from any past crimes you may have committed.”
He cleared his throat. “I have committed many crimes indeed, as you say. I have paid dearly for them, though. I’ve been exiled, forced to flee from one place to another like a hunted animal. I was visiting the Capital when I found out about the Jonian revolt. I immediately escaped the justice, to offer my services to my brethren. Since then, I’ve travelled long and far to gather the support we need to defeat the monster at the Capital.”
“Monster? I’ve heard you were on pretty good terms with this monster.”
“I must protest,” he said, throwing his hands in the air theatrically. “That was before she attacked Jonia.”
“Is that what happened? I seem to recall it was Jonia that attacked first, wasn’t it?”
“Only because the Capital had left us no other choice.”
“Us, messenger? From what I’ve heard of Teo Altman, the only person he cares about is Teo Altman himself.”
He shifted his feet. This was not going well. “You misjudge me, but I admit there’s truth in your words. I have been guilty of much, mainly attempting to steer Anthea away from its doom. I’m grateful to you for succeeding where I failed. Your brave actions have saved our city, but you must remember what Anthea was like when I erred so deeply. You must believe me when I tell you that I only had the city’s best interest in mind at the time. Surely you can find in your heart some sympathy for those of us who made the mistake of using the wrong means towards a justifiable end?”
He gave her a knowing look as he said those last words, certain that she knew what he was alluding to. He was tiring of her little games, accusing tone and arrogant way. He was Teo Altman after all; last member of one of the oldest families in Anthea, and would demand the respect he deserved.
She, however, refused to take the bait, continuing as if he had not spoken at all, making a dismissive motion with her hand, like swatting a fly.
“So, you say you now need Anthea’s help? What exactly do you plan to do with it?”
“The Jonian Overseer, Paul Gauld, wishes to attack Cypress Island, with your help of course. We’ll use it as a base of operations to hit the soft underbelly of the Capital.”
If this surprised her, it did not show on her face. “What w
ould our involvement be?” she asked him in a calm voice.
“I need an army and transport ships. We’ve learned that the Capital is gathering its forces up north. From what we hear, only a token garrison guards the island. It should fall in no time. The Overseer will immediately send reinforcements to secure our positions. Your men will be free to leave after that, taking with them all the wealth they can carry. We’ll make sure the prize the Capital has so foolishly left unguarded will be ours for a long time.”
“How can I trust you?”
He shrugged. “Why shouldn’t you? I’ll be alone, surrounded by your men. How can I possibly threaten you?”
He gathered that the time had come to show his ace. He dug out of a hidden pocket in his sleeve the signet ring Paul had given him and rubbed it on his chest to clean it before handing it over.
“This ring proves that I speak with the authority of the Overseer himself. He asks that you trust me like you trust him,” he told her as he presented it. He waited for a reply, but instead she simply returned the ring after fidgeting with it for a moment. He placed it back into his sleeve, wondering what her response meant. She seemed troubled. He would give much and more to know what was going on in that sharp mind of hers.
“I have not forgotten how Jonia supported us during the war with the Capital. However, we live in troubled times. We have many enemies, both within the city and outside of it. I can only afford to give you one cohort, two warships and four haulers. Will that be enough for your attack?”
He stared at her. “Thank you. You’re as wise as everyone says. Jonia is in your eternal debt.”
With the job done, he wanted to talk to her about Anthea, but she sprung to her feet.
“Until next time,” she said and slipped out before he had a chance to reply. He rose to his feet biting his lip, lost in thought. One cohort; around four hundred soldiers. Enough to capture an easy target like Cypress Island, but he placed no trust on them to fight a disciplined veteran army. His trip had been but a partial success. Anthea and Scorpio were safe from Argon, but since neither committed anything substantial, the rebellion was as good as doomed. He now knew what he had to do. He followed the guard to his room, not noticing a shadow following them.
Pearseus Bundle: The Complete Pearseus Sci-fi/Fantasy Series Page 23