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

by Nicholas C. Rossis

  This combination could only last as long as Cyrus governed as expected by the people. It is best to act unpredictably when waging war, not when governing, and power can only be truly great as long as people do not fear it. Having left intact the governing mechanism, the Capital functioned like a well-oiled machine. The sole remaining task concerned legislation. Barrett’s reformation had reduced it to a small number of easy to follow rules. Within these past centuries, these had grown to be disturbingly detailed. The more the rules, the fewer the law-abiding citizens, and they would soon have to find time for a second reformation.

  “…I have also brought you a gift” Gella announced, interrupting Parad’s thoughts.

  The doors behind them opened wide, as did Parad’s eyes at the sight of Teo Altman. He wore heavy handcuffs on his hands and feet, which made his walk almost comical. There was nothing funny about his wounds, though, or the nasty bruises on his body and face. The man walked with a limp, and Teo almost fell over when his guard nudged him forward. Somehow he managed to stand upright and stumble across the stunned hall. Passing Parad, his face showed no surprise, just recognition and a hint of a smile. Parad realised that Teo must have been informed of his escape. Or perhaps even known about it all along.

  Teo

  The handcuffs tore the scabs off his wrists, but the throbbing in his ankle troubled him more. An overzealous interrogator had broken it, and it had been left untreated for weeks. Teo could only hope to walk properly again someday. A sharp shove on his shoulder brought him to his knees as soon as he reached the stairs in front of Cyrus’s throne—for that was the true meaning of the tall, ornate chair in front of him. A throne he had once hoped he might someday occupy himself. The chain bit into his bruised flesh as he kneeled as best as he could, waiting to be addressed by their new ruler.

  “So, this is the man who almost had my father killed,” said Cyrus.

  Teo waited patiently. Spending so many years in various courts, he knew when to talk and when to hold his tongue.

  “Have you nothing to say for yourself, traitor?” Cyrus continued, contempt choking his voice.

  Teo wondered for a moment what the proper etiquette was for addressing this young man. Something flattering, yet not too sycophantic. Your Honour? Too reminiscent of the past occupant of the chair. Your Majesty? What was he, a king? Perhaps, but he decided to go with an old title instead. Something in the boy’s attitude told him he would not mind. “Your Grace,” he started, his eyes darting at Cyrus. He seemed pleased by the title, so Teo cleared his throat and continued.

  “Your Grace, thank you for giving me a chance to explain. I know many think I’ve betrayed both you and your father, whom I dare to this day to consider a friend.”

  Cyrus arched an eyebrow at him. “A friend? You almost had him executed. You murdered Tang.”

  Teo’s face took a pained expression. “I deeply regret Captain Tang’s death and never meant for that to happen. But I also made sure your father was treated fairly. And I made sure he escaped.”

  Cyrus’s eyes flashed in anger. “That’s ridiculous. I was the one who did that.”

  “Your Grace, if I may explain. Justice Styx and I had an agreement. Please consult your archives; I’m sure you’ll find the details within. She was a prudent woman, always keeping records. I was to help her bring sense to the rebels and re-establish the Capital’s rule. Sadly, I failed at this. So, she had me pretend to work with them.”

  “Very successfully, too,” Cyrus said drily.

  Teo ignored the sarcasm in the comment. “Thank you, Your Grace, although not as successfully as I’d hoped. To win their trust, I needed a gift to prove my allegiance. Styx decided the general would be ideal for this, but I promised him he’d be treated fairly. Please, General, let them know if this is true.”

  Parad rose slowly to his feet. “You did promise that, and kept your word. Then, you sent me to hang. I’m not sure I’d call that friendly.”

  “Ah, but you might if you also knew that I made sure word of your whereabouts reached your son, along with details of your execution. Your Grace,” he said addressing Cyrus once again, “were you not surprised that your people found out not just the date, but also the time and even the route the prisoners took?” He continued, before Cyrus replied. “It’s not information that comes cheaply, and I had to line many pockets. Also, did you ever wonder how you came across a map of the sewers? It’s a labyrinth down there, as I’m sure you remember. I can assure you no such map existed until I had one made.”

  Cyrus rubbed his chin. “You expect us to believe you orchestrated all that? What for?”

  “The same reason I did everything; to serve the Capital.”

  “What about the attack on Cypress Island? Your misinformation allowed the Antheans to slip by.”

  “Sadly, my aid had not gone as unnoticed as I’d hoped. The Overseer recognised my hand in the General’s escape and set up a trap, lying about Cypress Island. It pains me that I believed him, passing on the information to you. He then captured me and left me adrift on a boat to perish. The currents finally took me south of the Aly river. I wasted no time trying to warn your men of the rebel ruse, but they captured me and brought me here before I had a chance to explain.”

  Cyrus motioned to the clerk, who brought him an e-lib. He pressed the recording crystal into an indentation to switch it on. The clerk pointed at a specific section and whispered something in Cyrus’s ear. Cyrus studied the e-lib for a while, then handed it back. He pondered for a while, studying Teo with brooding eyes, until reaching a decision. “Remove his irons and make sure his wounds are treated. This man will be treated as a guest. I’ll want to speak with him again, so he’s not to leave the Chamber.”

  “Thank you, Your Grace. You truly are a wise ruler.”

  Cyrus threw him a cryptic glance before jumping to his feet. Ignoring the noise of people hurrying to stand up, he slipped out of the room through the scuffed door behind him. The marks of spears on the hard wood reminded everyone of the dire consequences their new ruler’s wrath might bear.

  Teo lifted his arms in front of him, a wide grin on his face as a guard approached him, his hand deep in his pocket, searching for the key that would remove the chains.

  The Capital

  Lehmor

  A soft moan escaped Lehmor’s lips. He slowly regained consciousness, his head pounding as he cracked open heavy eyelids. A feeble attempt at moving only served to send the room spinning around him. He shut his eyes again, wondering just how much he had drunk last night. Then, the image of Cyrus and Moirah entwined filled his head, and his guts rolled into a knot, conflicting emotions gnawing them; anger, despair, betrayal, desire, loss; then more anger. They all crashed in his soul like successive, dark waves rolling over the shore, drawing him deep into the waters, drowning him.

  It took all his determination to pry his eyes open again, but as soon as he did, he realised he had never been in this room before and he jerked up. He moaned again, louder this time, as sharp pain added to the dull pounding in his head, reminding him how much of a mistake any quick movement was. He examined the sparse room, finding it little more than a cell. Except for the bed, it lay empty, save for a tankard sitting on a plain side table next to him. He picked it up and took a whiff. It contained clear water, which he gulped down in one long, thirsty gulp. A loaf of bread sat on a clay plate next to the jug, and he chewed a reluctant bite.

  “Glad to see you’re feeling better,” a calm, deep voice said from the far end of the room. He jolted, startled, pain crashing over him a second later. A big man sitting on a plain chair leaned forward, coming out of the shadows to reveal himself to Lehmor.

  “Who are you? Where am I?” he asked with a suspicion he did not bother to hide.

  “Ah. You don’t remember much from last night, do you?”

  “No. I was drinking.”

  The man sniggered. “And not paying your bills, from the looks of it. I had to cover your tab.”

 
Lehmor grimaced. “Thanks. Why did you do that?”

  “Call it generosity. I just wanted to get to know you better. Name’s Stripet, by the way.”

  Lehmor stared at him with foggy eyes, then his eyes fixed on the bear claw on the man’s neck and the memory of last night rushed back to him. He jerked back. “You’re the Bear.”

  Stripet groaned. “Do we really have to go through that again?”

  Lehmor tried to roll off the bed and stand on his feet, but a wave of queasiness washed over him and he sank back on the hay mattress.

  “You’re a traitor,” he said weakly.

  “Yes, yes. Traitor, outcast. Whatever. Same as my whole tribe. Have been for years.”

  “You lost your Argikar.”

  The man’s fists closed so hard that his knuckles turned white, yet his voice was even when he spoke.

  “They were stolen. There’s a difference. Anyway, that was years before my time. Why should I be punished for a crime I didn’t commit?”

  Do I really have to explain? “A tribe without Argikar is corrupted. Corruption will spread to all.”

  The man’s eyes narrowed into thin slits. “I know the Old Woman’s lies.”

  “Not lies. Truths.”

  “Oh, I see. The Old Woman can tell no lie, is that it?”

  “Yes.”

  “What about your arm? I suppose the Old Woman had warned you of losing that? Or had she neglected that little detail?”

  Lehmor clenched his jaw. “She said it’d be dangerous.”

  “And yet you fought for her. Why?”

  “The Lady willed it.”

  “I see. Did she also ask you to take Moirah to Cyrus?”

  Lehmor pursed his lips and faced the wall.

  “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m just trying to make you see there are two sides to every story,” the man continued in a soft voice.

  “What story?”

  “The Shei-ka-zuul. What do you know of them?”

  “The whispers that corrupt. They’re evil.”

  “Why, what did they ever do to you?”

  “They’re the enemy. They tried to kill me. They took my arm.”

  “They might claim they simply defended themselves when you attacked them.”

  Lehmor flashed an angry grin at his captor. “They attacked us.”

  “Perhaps they were simply defending their home.”

  “Not their home, our home.”

  “Is it now? Do you know what the Shei-ka-zuul call themselves? The Ensavin; the Ancestors. Do you know what they call us? The Tul-nukas­—the Newcomers.”

  “Wrong. We’re First. Not Newcomers.”

  “Really? But they were here before us, weren’t they? We came here and took their home. We built monstrosities for our society’s rejects, stole the planet’s resources and killed its natives. We committed genocide on an immense scale, not even realising what we were doing. All in the name of humanity. Now, humanity’s next wave’s attacked us. Ironic, isn’t it?”

  Lehmor shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

  “That’s because you’ve only been fed one side of the story throughout your entire life. It’s time you heard both of them.”

  Lehmor crossed his arms and stared at the wall. “I won’t talk to a Bear.”

  “Fine. Perhaps then you’ll listen. Do you find it fair that because someone stole three scraps of metal from the ground, our entire tribe had to be disbanded? Our entire village slaughtered; children taken from their families; wives given to new husbands; our land grabbed by the Crows. All in the name of the Old Woman and her bloody Orbs. What part of that strikes you as fair?”

  “Without Argikar you’re corrupt,” Lehmor repeated stubbornly.

  Stripet flushed, his voice now sounding strained. “And what chance were we given? Do you think the Old Woman has no more Argikar? Couldn’t she save us?”

  “It was too late.”

  Stripet banged his hand on the chair. “Was it now? How do you know? Did you try to help? Did anyone? They were quick to condemn us, to steal everything away. Our people, our land, our pride. Our lives. You think the Shei-ka-zuul are evil? Try being on the wrong side of that righteous bitch and I’ll show you evil. She shafted us real good, until nothing remained of our tribe; just me. What makes you think she won’t do the same with you someday? Everyone has their own agenda, my friend. Why do you think you were forced to come here? Do you even like the Capital?”

  “I like the North.”

  “Then why did you come? Perhaps the Old Woman just wanted to keep Cyrus happy so he can fight her precious war, you thought of that?”

  Lehmor shifted uncomfortably on the bed and bit his lip. “Happy?”

  “Sure, happy. Happy banging your wife, happy laughing behind your back. I’m sure they’re both laughing at you right now. ‘Big, thick cripple; how did he ever think he deserved a woman like you,’ he’ll be telling her, and she’ll be laughing.”

  “No,” Lehmor roared and rushed towards the man, ignoring the sharp pain in his head. His body jerked back; only then did he notice the shackles around his ankle, chaining him to the wall. “I’ll kill you,” he cried out at Stripet.

  Stripet leaned back into the shadow. “What for? Telling you what you already know? Look inside your heart and tell me if I’m wrong.”

  “You’re wrong,” he shouted. “She loves me.”

  “Then why aren’t you with her?”

  Lehmor glared at his feet. “Take off these chains and I will be.”

  “Sure, it’s my chains that made you leave her. The strongest chains are not made of steel, my friend. Some day you may even see that…”

  He rose slowly to his feet and left the room, the door clicking softly behind him.

  “Let me out,” Lehmor yelled after him and threw the plate at the door. The clay dish exploded in small fragments, leaving a brown smudge on the wood.

  No reply came.

  The Marshes

  May 13, David

  David paused to catch his breath. He had forgotten how steep the walk to the crumbling monastery was. A moment later, he spotted the Old Woman in front of a young couple with a baby in their arms. She was murmuring something in the old language while holding an ornate wooden box over their heads, as if in blessing. She paid him no attention until she had finished and they departed smiling.

  As soon as they had gone, she motioned him to approach. She nodded towards the couple walking down the hill. “The baby has bad lungs. It won’t survive the coming winter, unless they’re careful. These young ones, though; they don’t listen. They think they know it all. I tried to tell them, but they were only here because of tradition.”

  “What will you do?”

  She shrugged. “I know their shaman. I’ll ask him to make sure they do what needs to be done.”

  David pointed at the box in her hands. “They gave it to you?”

  “It’s a gift, but not by them.” She opened the box to reveal a beautiful, flowing silver amulet with a vine leaf etched at its centre. “Faith defeats demons, not metal, although metal does have its uses. This is an angels’ footstep amulet. It can show you the enemy, so that you know what you’re fighting.” She shut the lid again and left the box on a small table next to the fire. “That’s not why you’re here, though.”

  “I need your help.”

  “More than you realise. The ancient enemy is stirring in the Capital.”

  “I know, that’s why I’m here.”

  “You don’t know, or you’d be back there. Lehmor caught Cyrus and Moirah in a moment of weakness. He’s disappeared; even I don’t know where he is. That means he’s probably captured by the enemy… or worse.”

  David’s jaw dropped. A moment of weakness? What did she mean by that? “What? When did this happen?”

  “Shortly after you left. You told them to watch for fits of rage, forgetting that man has many emotions the enemy can use.”

  He hung his head. “It’s my
fault. I never thought of that. What happened to Moirah and Cyrus? Are they alright?”

  “Moirah’s also gone, probably looking for Lehmor. Cyrus is playing king in the Capital.”

  His face darted upwards. “It’s worse than I thought. I need a set of Argikar, then I’ll help Moirah find Lehmor.”

  She gave him a sad smile and shook her head. “The Argikar won’t work in the Capital.”

  “Why?”

  “Like I said, it’s faith that defeats demons, not metal. Argikars focus a tribe’s will to turn away Whispers. That’s why it’s important that the whole tribe is united against them, or the Isil will fail. The Newcomers, however, haven’t even heard of the Whispers. How can an Argikar work there?”

  Her words sparked a memory. “Is that what happened with the Bears?”

  “Your Voice told you the story? It’s not that they left their Argikar to be stolen, as some think. The tribe split up, allowing the enemy to claim the land. Another Isil would be futile. The only way to stop evil was to start over with a new tribe. A united one. I wish there’d been a better way; too many innocents suffered.”

  “So what can we do?”

  She shook her head. “There is but one road that leaves you safe from the Whispers.”

  “What’s that? I’ll do anything.”

  “It’s not like that. The first step is for one to be self-aware. That’s the only way you’ll know when they attack. The main advantage of the enemy is its ability to stay hidden.”

  He rubbed his neck in disbelief. “Self-awareness? Really? What’s the next step?”

  “To resist. Whispers tempt and corrupt, but are powerless if one simply refuses to listen to them.”

  He avoided her gaze. “Isn’t there an easier way?”

  “To be truly safe? No. It’s a constant struggle, an invisible war raging all around us. A silent one too; most don’t even realise it.”