Pearseus Bundle: The Complete Pearseus Sci-fi/Fantasy Series

by Nicholas C. Rossis

  Once the guard had left, he scribbled a note on a tiny piece of paper, stamped it with his personal seal and secured it inside a small, inconspicuous cylinder. He then called for his most trusted servant.

  “You know what to do,” he told him when he arrived and handed him the cylinder. The man bowed and hurried away.

  Malekshei, the Marshes

  David

  The sun had just set, the forest chill sending a shivering David to warm himself by the fire the night guards had lit in the courtyard. He wondered if they had placed it over the pit where they had buried the dead Fallen in an attempt to prevent their spirits from escaping. Their campaign had been a resounding success; the Haunted Forest had never been so clear of shadows and whispers. Taking heart from this, they agreed to move their village to the ancient castle. Being nomadic in nature, the First had no qualms over leaving one area for another, especially if the game there was rich and easy to find. Every night now was a feast, filled with the boisterous shouts and easy laughter of the First he had come to appreciate.

  His conversations with the Voice had grown rarer. This had become painfully apparent during his encounter with the creature in Cyrus’s room—a Horror, as the Voice had called it later. She now used words less and less, communicating instead through intuitive knowledge. Somehow this made him feel closer to her, as if they were merging into a single organism instead of two entities. They would still talk from time to time, but usually he found he simply understood things; things he had no way of knowing or comprehending. He listened for her voice in his mind while warming his hands in front of the fire, when Two-horns rushed towards him.

  “Two-horns! How are—”

  He froze at the man’s expression.

  “Have you seen Satsi?” Two-horns’ eyes darted anxiously around them.

  David frowned. “Your son? No, why?”

  “No-one’s seen him since morning.”

  A deep frown crossed David’s brow in his effort to remember the last time he had seen the boy. Satsi usually followed either him or his father around when back in the camp. He was going to become the best blacksmith, he had once told him, making David promise to help him do so. Satsi’s disappearance surprised him, although like all boys it was more than likely he had lost track of time exploring some hidden part of the still unfamiliar place.

  “Don’t worry, we’ll find him,” David promised, silently asking the Voice for her aid. They had been working with the shaman on resonance, a skill that allowed him to briefly see things through animals’ eyes. With the shaman still back in the old village, along with Parad and Cyrus, David was the only one who could help Two-horns.

  He closed his eyes and tried to remember the old man’s teachings. The shaman had shown him a three-stringed musical instrument, then hummed softly. One of the strings resonated, producing a note similar to his hum. He had then changed his pitch, and another string pulsed, without anyone touching it. The shaman had explained that everything, everyone, every place, every emotion and every thought is like a sound. People could be taught to follow a certain vibration or even to produce it in others. A strong emotion like anger or love, he had explained, will cause a similar response on others nearby. If repeated often enough in a specific place, prolonged and repetitive emotions can survive for aeons, as in the Haunted Forest. He had given David another example too: people walking into graveyards often experienced sadness, the prevailing emotion among visiting friends and relatives. According to the shaman, David’s frequent headaches were probably due to his sensitivity, as strong emotions can produce a physical response.

  Feeling Two-horns’ eyes bore a hole in his skull, David took a deep breath, then another. The boy would have felt fear, so he tried to resonate with that emotion. A familiar murmur sounded in his ears, then, unexpectedly, he resonated with a coyote. Until then, he had only been able to tune into animals. This time, however, he became the coyote, and dropped to his knees, crawling on all fours. A crowd gathered around them, but he ignored it, sniffing the air for the boy’s scent of fear.

  “North,” he growled and tilted his head. “They went north.”

  He dashed towards the scent. Two-horns motioned to others and men with bright torches hurried behind him; some on foot, others on horseback. Night had fallen by the time he met a brook on his left, running along a lush hill. He followed it until a sweet flower smell like jasmine stole his focus. He stood there for a minute, mesmerized by the sweet aroma, then noticed Two-horns staring at him with anxious eyes, and reminded himself that he had a boy to find. He rushed off again, surprised at how sharp the boy’s scent had become.

  “There,” he grunted, pointing towards a lonely fire in the distance.

  Two-horns and the riders galloped towards it, but David stayed behind, trying to stop the tears flowing from his eyes. He had no need to see, for the overpowering stench of fresh death and dried blood hung over the place like a shroud.

  When the men returned, they had with them a man with cloudy eyes and a dirty, forlorn face. His confused mutterings made no sense, but Satsi’s body had been found next to him, still warm. Two-horns trembled next to the man, glaring at him with fiery eyes filled with rage. David tried to break the connection to the coyote; the smells were more than he could bear. Blood and death hung like a dark mist on the agitated perpetrator, mingled with something else, darker than even death itself. It brought him back to the only time he had smelled it before, the last time he had been in Styx’s chambers. It brought sick to his mouth, violently breaking the connection to the coyote. While Two-horns sliced the man’s throat, David hurried to empty his stomach behind a tree.

  No one spoke as they returned towards Malekshei. Before parting, Two-horns gave David an amulet as a gift; a long wolf tooth, hanging from a leather cord. He placed it around David’s neck saying nothing, which was good, as David had no words to offer either. It hurt to see this big, strong man, feared and respected by everyone, lost like a small child.

  “How could he do such a thing?” Two-horns murmured, tears in his eyes. “What kind of a monster is he? What made him that way?”

  David searched for the right answer. “You know how a shove in your neck can kill you, but a punch in your back may just hurt a little?”

  He did not think the man had heard him, but after a brief pause Two-horns nodded.

  “People are like that. We have weak spots and strong ones in our souls, just like in our bodies. When our souls crack, they do it along our fault lines.”

  Two-horns shook his head and raised a hand to hold on to David. “I don’t understand.”

  David clasped the man’s hand. “Something happened to that man. Someone turned him into that. But I don’t know what. All I know is you need to learn how to live with that burden. To not let it crack you.”

  “How can I? Everything reminds me of my boy.” He drowned a sob. “They think the greatest curse of old age is creaking bones and aches. It’s not. It’s that everything around you reminds you of something in your past, long gone. In the end, nothing’s new; everything’s a reflection and a memory. Surely that’s good enough reason to welcome death and the oblivion it brings?”

  David watched him open-mouthed; Two-horns had never been eloquent. He could not find a reply as the Elder staggered away, a broken man, bearing no resemblance to the fierce warrior he had been until that very morning.

  Cypress Island

  May 5, Teo

  A soaring wave crashed against the side of the ship, wetting him to the bone and further adding to Teo’s foul mood. The Captain, a small, thin man with silver hair and too large a head for his body, exchanged cheerful pleasantries with a sailor. Teo’s fists tightened; he had disliked him from the first moment, certain that the feeling was mutual.

  “Captain,” he shouted to be heard over the waves.

  The man turned and waved. Teo motioned him to approach.

  The Captain ignored him for a moment, laughed at something the sailor said, then strode towards
him. “How may I help you, Master Altman?”

  Teo ground his teeth. “How much longer do we have to suffer this weather?” He had seen the contents of his stomach too often during the trip.

  “What, this?” The man gazed around, flashing an innocent smile. “Really, this is nothing.”

  The bastard’s enjoying this. When they had first met, Teo had recognised the man’s family name. He belonged to one of the old Salmon Island families, one that had suffered dearly during Magna’s occupation of the island. As if it was my fault that his family wasn’t smarter. Still, the man could be nicer about it. A loud groan escaped his lips and he rushed over to the ship’s side to retch. Nothing came out but bile. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve, noticing a wide grin on the Captain’s face. I hate the bastard. One day I’ll kill him.

  “Perhaps a story would take your mind off things?” offered the Captain.

  Teo nodded, too exhausted for words.

  “There once was a man who loved flowers, yet they always hid from him. Whenever he didn’t look at them they’d be out, blooming in all their beauty. As soon as he turned his gaze upon them, they hid back into the earth.”

  The Captain laughed and left.

  Is this supposed to be funny? Some sort of metaphor for me, for my ambitions? I’ll have his guts for breakfast, the old—

  The shout of a sailor interrupted his thoughts. Cypress Island had been spotted—not a moment too soon, either. He could not wait to be back on dry land again and the image of sipping a fine wine before a nice fire in a captured castle made a smile crawl on his lips for the first time in days. He tried to make out the land, but could see nothing in the midday haze. After a while, a thin line broke from the seemingly endless repetitiveness of the sea, appearing and disappearing with the motion of the waves.

  It took them another hour or so before the island’s outline was clear. The ship creaked and turned, moving the coastline to their right. This surprised him; their plan had been to land on the south part, so the island should be on their left. Perhaps the Captain followed a current, but Teo could not shake a sick feeling in his gut.

  He searched for the man, finding him starboard, over a small boat, a couple of sailors busying around it. The sight made Teo’s stomach tighten.

  “What’s going on?”

  “What do you mean?” asked the Captain, a mocking laughter in his eyes.

  Teo’s guts twitched. “Where are we going?” he groaned.

  The man nodded towards the island.

  “Why, wasn’t our agreement to bring you to Cypress Island? I’m nothing if not a man of my word.”

  “What do you mean bring me to the island? What about you?”

  “Ah. There’s been a slight change of plans, I’m afraid…”

  “What change?”

  “Simple. We’re going to continue to our destination, while your trip ends here.”

  “Your destination is Cypress Island,” he screamed, staring bug-eyed at the Captain.

  “I’m sorry, it’s not,” the man replied in a cheerful voice. “We’re going to continue a little further. You, on the other hand, will board this fine vessel,”—he nodded towards the small boat behind him—“and get off my ship.”

  He spat these last words, and Teo clenched his fists in rage. “This is an outrage. The Overseer will hear of this. Anthea will have a war on her hands if you carry on with this.”

  The Captain laughed a shrill laughter that enraged Teo even further. “The Overseer,” he sneered. “Who do you think arranged this? Sol and the Overseer did.” He stopped laughing as abruptly as he had started. His eyes now dripped malice. “You should be grateful. If I had my way, you’d be thrown overboard with an anchor around your thick, ugly neck. The Overseer, on the other hand, insisted we make sure nothing happens to you.”

  Teo gasped. “Paul? But why?”

  “I’m just a simple captain, but might it have something to do with a message you sent to the Harpy?” He flashed a wide grin, but his eyes were as dark as the sea surrounding them. “Something about an attack on Cypress Island?”

  The blood left Teo’s face. Crossed and double-crossed, what a pitiful man I am.

  “Did you really believe Cypress Island would be undefended? It’s one of the most strategic locations in the Capital—why would they leave it unguarded?” the Captain continued, the smile fading from his face. “Perhaps he wanted to check your loyalty. Or feed the Capital false intel; I don’t know. All I know is that our dear Sol found out. Don’t worry, though; your message was delivered safely to the Harpy. Much good that it’ll do her.” He chortled at his own joke, making Teo cringe.

  Paul had indeed been merciful; anyone else might have skinned him alive. He offered a silent thanks to his friend, then gathered his remaining dignity. Without saying a word, he stepped into the boat. The Captain spat at him as they lowered the boat onto the rough waters. Teo did not move, gazing ahead, head up straight, spittle trickling down his brow, his mind calculating the distance between boat and shore. He bore no anger towards Paul. Well played, was all he would tell him next time they met. Whatever the cost, however, he would make sure to have his revenge on that Captain. And Sol.

  Malekshei, the Marshes

  David

  The old shaman arrived at Malekshei a couple of days later, along with a large group of villagers. He was heading towards the stables with a pack of mules when David spotted him and rushed to greet him with a warm hug, surprising him.

  “Is all well?” he asked, alarmed, and David told him of the incident with the boy.

  Tears welled up in the old man’s eyes. “I feared this could happen. I must see Two-horns. But first, we perform the Isil before the Whispers take more.”

  “What do the Whispers have to do with this?”

  “They drive man crazy. They corrupt all that’s good. The man who killed the boy? He loves children. Whispers corrupt this love. Turn it into death. They make the man destroy what he loves.”

  “So how can we stop them?”

  “The Isil—the Silence ceremony. We place the Argikar. They keep Whispers away.”

  “But we killed all the Whispers.”

  “You killed servants, Fallen and Iota. This new place, Malekshei… The Shei-ka-zuul have lived here for many moons. You think to kill them all in one day?”

  A sad smile crept on the old man’s face and David cursed himself for his naivety. “So, what’s this Isil?” he asked.

  The old man nodded towards one of the mules. “Old magic,” was all he said, then left in his characteristic slow movement to unpack. David rushed to help, buckling under the weight of a large bundle carried by the mule.

  “Careful,” the shaman said.

  David dropped the package on the ground and opened it to reveal its contents. A small, gold chest with beautiful carvings stood out amidst dried herbs and various vials and flasks. The shaman motioned him to open it, and David did so with eager fingers to find inside three shiny, silvery cylinders resembling sheimleks. Thin blue veins shone through them, throbbing softly with an almost imperceptible luminance.

  “Argikar,” said the shaman.

  David took a cylinder in his hands and the fine hair on his neck stood up. Its weight surprised him. “Is that what you call them? Where did you find these?”

  “The Old Woman. Argikar are a tribe’s treasure. If we lost them…”

  David chuckled. “How can anyone lose them? They seem pretty hard to miss.”

  The shaman lowered his voice. “The Bears did. Now, they’re no more.”

  David remained silent for a moment, the Voice offering him intuitive knowledge of a tribe long gone, along with a deep sense of betrayal and loss. He examined the object. “So, how does it work?”

  The shaman motioned downwards, towards the hard soil. “We return the children to the mother.”

  “You plant them in the ground?”

  The man nodded, then pried with gentle fingers the cylinder from David’s hands and
placed it back into the box. “We must hurry.”

  He climbed the stairs to the top of the gate house overlooking the courtyard and cleared his throat.

  “Gather for the Isil,” he cried out to the First helping the newcomers unload their belongings in the quadrangle. “Come.”

  At the command, everyone dropped whatever they were doing to gather around the portcullis. The old man jumped back down, surprising David with his swiftness. He motioned two young First to help carry the chest with the Argikar. They placed it outside the thick wall, the swelling crowd following them. Once outside, the shaman threw his arms into the air and everyone bowed their heads in reverence. A pretty, young girl with blue eyes, dressed in a long white dress with a garland of silver vines around her black hair, rushed to his side with a spade, awaiting his instructions. He bellowed a few melodic words in the old language, then continued.

  “The Isil has started, gather around me. The Shei-ka-zuul drove us from our homes. They killed our brothers and sisters; mothers and fathers; sons and daughters. Today we vow to fight the old war. To vanquish the slayers of our people. To remember.”

  “To remember,” the crowd murmured. Every single member of the tribe had gathered around them by then, overflowing the gate and spilling onto the walls.

  “Let the Argikar chase away the whispering shadows. Let our people cleanse and purify this ground. Like music drowns whisper, like light dispels darkness, like faith overcomes fear, let us now wipe out the old enemy from Malekshei. We have a duty to endure. Let us today fulfil this duty by consecrating this ground in unison.” He motioned to the girl and she dug three small holes.

  “He’s more eloquent than I expected,” David marvelled inside his head.