“So your advice is, basically, be nice?”
She chuckled. “Actually, know yourself. Then, choose to be nice.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets, shifting uncomfortably his weight on aching feet. “You said you’d help me when I needed you.”
“And you feel I haven’t.” She shook her head. “The real struggle is within you. We teach our children to listen to their shamans. We train them to recognise the enemy and protect their tribes. However, at the end of the day, each of us still has to fight the war on their own. If you let the enemy in your thoughts and your heart, no weapon can help. Be strong and you’ll be safe. Falter and you’ll fail. It’s up to each and every one of us to fight.”
“‘Watch your thoughts, for they guide your words,’ ” he quoted. “ ‘Watch your words, for they dictate your actions. Words have ancestors and deeds have masters.’ ”
“Exactly. Whispers or not, we all bear sole responsibility for our actions. Never forget: the real war we must fight is not to change the world; it is to change ourselves.”
He could not stand another lecture and pointed at the box holding the amulet. “You said that amulet reveals the Whispers. How does it work?”
“It can show you the enemy. It also dulls the emotions the Whispers bring up in you.” She raised her hand, as if to stop his next question. “But it’s not meant for you.”
David scowled. Why won’t she help me? Fighting an invisible enemy is one thing, but doing so without a proper way to protect myself…
The Old Woman gave him a reassuring smile and clasped his shoulder. “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine as long as you don’t rush things. You have your inner voice to guide you, after all.”
David wished with all his heart she was right.
She took the box and raised it, murmuring something in the old language. The Voice translated for him: “I won’t wish you riches or glory, but that wherever you go some weary heart shall gladden at your smile, or shadowed life know sunshine for a while. And so your path shall be a track of light, like angels’ footsteps passing through the night.” The Old Woman hung her head for a moment. “Remember,” she continued as she placed the box back on the table. “It is your faith that will protect you.”
He glanced away. Yeah, I heard you the first time. “So, what do I do now?”
She seemed thoughtful. “Right now, the chain’s broken, each going their own way. Only in unity is there hope. The Whispers are stronger right now, for they are focused, whereas we’re confused. Having lost the Justice, they’ll try to win over Cyrus. That’s why you shouldn’t have left him alone.”
“Sounds like we’ll need all the luck in the world,” David murmured.
“Luck… Luck’s a fickle mistress. Bad fortune rests upon good fortune; good luck hides within bad luck.”
He frowned. “Sorry, I don’t understand.”
She let out one of her chuckles. “A farmer’s horse ran away. Upon hearing the news, his neighbours came to visit. ‘Such bad luck,’ they said. ‘We’ll see,’ the farmer replied. The next morning the horse returned, bringing with it three other wild horses. ‘How wonderful,’ the neighbours exclaimed. ‘We’ll see,’ the old man answered. The following day, his son rode one of the untamed horses, was thrown, and broke his leg. The neighbours offered their sympathy on his misfortune. ‘We’ll see,’ he said. The day after, soldiers came to the village to draft young men into the army. Seeing the son’s broken leg, they passed him by. The neighbours congratulated the farmer on how well things had turned out. ‘We’ll see,’ he replied.”
“I see,” David said with a dry smile. Her tendency to treat everything as a lesson was starting to annoy him. “Before I go, there’s one more thing. Have you heard of the old man at Malekshei? He said he was a servant of the Iota.”
“I know them well. What do you want to know?”
“Well, for starters he looked human, but I had a very strange experience with him. I don’t know exactly what happened, but it’s been on my mind ever since.”
“They’re not human. They have many names: the Watchers, the Oras, the Iotas. They’re from this planet, like the Whispers.”
“I got the impression he worked for them. He had an army of Fallen.”
“Most do what their name suggests: they watch. They’re an ancient order that aims to understand the world by seeing all sides of an argument. Being unaligned is their highest value. When you stare into the abyss for so long, however, you risk much. Some decide that balance needs their help to be restored. They aid either us or the enemy, depending on who’s losing the war. On its own, the Iota simply represents an all-encompassing balance. As practiced by some of its servants, however, it’s dangerous.”
“So they’re unpredictable?”
“They may save you one day and kill you the next without a second thought if they feel balance is best served that way. Some of them are truly mad. The theory behind their philosophy is sound, but they misunderstand it, apply it wrongly. They complicate things by playing god, when things are really very simple: the Whispers hate, we love. Great understanding, what some call enlightenment, comes not from balance, but from love.”
He nodded. “Love, not balance, brings enlightenment. I see.”
“Good. Then you must hurry: the enemy’s winning Cyrus over even as we speak.”
He turned to leave, then spun around again. “Why is Cyrus that important, anyway?”
“Only in unity is there hope. He’s one who can unite everyone for the final battle.”
“What battle?”
“Can’t you feel it? Wars are coming. They will define everyone’s future. As long as Cyrus lives, he is destined to lead. Whom he’ll fight, remains to be seen. The enemy knows it too; that’s why they tried to kill him as a boy. We need him to unite Newcomers and First and fight the Whispers once and for all. But he left Malekshei before we had a chance to fully prepare him. It’s up to you now to do so.”
“What happens if I fail? If it’s too late?”
“If humanity fails to unite against the Whispers, much pain will ensue.”
Can’t I get a clear answer for once? “I have one more question for you. I’ve been many times in Cyrus’s office. Why did the Whispers reveal themselves to me this time? Was it to send me away from him?”
She mulled the question over for a while. “Perhaps. They’re up to something, a final gambit, but I don’t know what. Watch out and don’t rush into anything.”
“I will,” he promised.
She turned around and disappeared into the cave.
The box on the small table drew his gaze. I need more help than empty words. Without thinking, he opened the lid and grabbed the amulet. Before the Old Woman had a chance to reappear, he shoved it inside his pocket.
What are you doing? the Voice cried out in alarm.
What I must. He whirled around and hurried down the hill.
The Capital
Lehmor
Lehmor grunted as he pulled the chains with all his strength, but they wouldn’t budge. He crashed back on his bed and cursed his one arm, then the door opened and he jerked upright. His stomach growled and, despite himself, his mouth watered. With no light in the tiny room he had lost track of time, sleeping and waking up an unknown number of times. Upon awakening, he often found a big loaf of bread and some cheese next to his bed, but now he had not eaten anything in days.
An old man entered the room instead of Stripet, thin with long grey hair. Lehmor blinked with surprise; this man could be their Malekshei host’s brother. He wore the same long dark grey robe and a silver amulet of a circle, broken by a column.
“Well, I see you’re awake,” said the stranger.
“Who are you?” Lehmor did not try to hide his suspicion.
“My name’s irrelevant; I’m just a servant.”
“Whose servant?”
“The Iota, of course. Couldn’t you tell?” He seemed surprised as he pointed at the amulet hanging from his
neck.
Lehmor pursed his lips. “Don’t you have a name?”
“Oh, well, you can call me Pratin. But it’s the Iota that’s important, not me.” Lehmor shook his head; it meant nothing to him. “I see I have a lot to teach you,” Pratin continued. “The Iota symbolises balance.”
“Like Themis.”
“In a sense, yes. But Themis is also about maintaining order. I feel the universe is sometimes better expressed through chaos.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Let me try to explain. You follow the wishes of the Old Woman and fight in the Lady’s name, right?”
“Yes.”
“You’re so obedient as not to begrudge her the loss of your arm, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Although that arm cost you the leadership of your tribe?”
Lehmor’s face flushed. “The Elders choose our chief.”
“Of course. However, your father’s the current chief. You would be the natural choice under normal circumstances. Now, however, you can never be his heir.” He paused and studied Lehmor for a moment. “You have sacrificed much for the Old Woman,” he said with a soft voice, filled with sympathy. “I’m sure she must have given you some very convincing reasons as to why you needed to fight, correct? Told you the story of your people and how much they have lost to their enemy?”
“Yes.”
The old man’s face sagged. “Well, the enemy also has a story to tell, a narrative of their own if you wish. Do you want to hear it?”
“No.”
“That’s where you and I differ. I’ll tell you all the same. You weren’t here when the first humans—your ancestors—arrived on the planet. We were.”
“That’s impossible. Only the Shei-ka-zuul were here.”
“Oh no, quite possible. We’re older than your bogeymen - the Shei-ka-zuul, as you call them. My kind’s been on this planet long before you messed things up.”
“We did not mess things up. We belong here. We’re the First people.”
“You are as much Newcomers as Cyrus. We’d been living happily for countless aeons before your arrival. I’m not complaining though; we dedicate ourselves to the study of balance, and you’ve proved very helpful in that respect. When your ancestors came, all they saw was a planet that could sustain your kind of life. You didn’t even bother to notice the life already here. We watched, helpless, as you terraformed the planet—do you know what that is? You take a planet and change it; its angle, rotation, position, temperature, climate, even its land and seas, to fit your needs. You blithely killed billions of species, only to introduce the ones you were familiar with. We were here, hearing the screams of our dying world, desperate to save it. A handful of us escaped to the moons, sole survivors of our planet. We found refuge there, avoiding the worst of what your people did. As for the rest of its creatures, no one even remembers their names. Your Newcomers have a name for that sort of atrocity: genocide. Death of a genus, a species. But can there even be a name for the killing of an entire world? A mundicide perhaps? And all for what? So you could bring your children here to play their eternal games. How’s that for irony? You destroyed an entire planet to fit your idea of beauty, then moved where you couldn’t see any of the changes you had made.”
Lehmor listened despite himself and his jaw slackened. Could all this be true? “I didn’t know. How did you survive?”
“We were terrified, so we did the only thing we could. We hid. You forced evolution on us and although billions of us died, not all did. When we returned, we discovered a new presence among the ruins; what you call the Shei-ka-zuul.”
Lehmor held his breath. “What are they?”
The old man shrugged. “Maybe survivors, so fuelled by rage that they went mad, evolving into those creatures. Others believe the Shei-ka-zuul are but a memory, a fragmented remnant of our past, like a wraith or a spectre. A dying planet’s final gasp, a screaming whisper and a curse, an eternal thirst for vengeance that can never be quenched. Either way, can you blame them for hating you so?”
Lehmor shook his head slowly. If this is true… “No. Do you hate us too?”
“The few of us that survived, thrived in the following aeons. Unnoticed by humans, we chose to embrace change, seeing it as part of life’s balance. Something always has to die for something else to be born. We believe we’re all part of the same whole, like parts of a body. How can the heart hate the brain? We’re all one. When we hurt another, we really hurt ourselves. We learnt that lesson well in those days. It shaped us, formed our beliefs. You see, we believe that the universe is Divine Will made matter. When this happens, everything splits in two—each the opposite of the other. These opposites need each other. Together, they form a balance. For example, creatures can be male or female. A man can be brave or a coward. Good and evil, night and day, summer and winter, hot and cold, light and darkness. Need I go on?”
“No, I understand. So?”
“So, we feel it’s pointless to look at the world through the lens of duality. Instead, we seek the unity behind it. For example, we see hot and cold not as opposites, but as different extremes of the same property: temperature. And instead of talking about our people and your people, we think of both as the Iota’s creations. That way, our world’s death was not a tragedy, but a rebalancing; something old dying to make way for something new to be born. Are you still with me?”
“Yes. Find the unity behind any pair of opposites.”
The man clapped his hands, as if to congratulate his prisoner. “Excellent. That’s exactly what we do. The Divine Will created the One. The one created the two. The two created the three. The three created the many. It is our job to travel this river backwards, so we can gather the fragments and return to the Divine Will in order to find peace. Do you know what peace is?”
“The absence of war.”
The old man chuckled. “Not a philosopher I see. Pity. Our philosophy dictates our thoughts; our thoughts control our actions; our actions determine who we are. No, we prefer to think of peace as returning to one’s original nature; in other words, as obeying the natural, eternal law. To know the natural law is to be enlightened. Those ignorant of nature’s law act recklessly, thus inviting misfortune. Do you know what obeying one’s nature means?”
A soft sigh escaped Lehmor’s lips. He preferred to leave the pretty words to David—his weapon was the sword, not words.
“There’s this story about two women washing their clothes in the river when they notice a scorpion drowning. One woman scoops it up. The scorpion stings her as she sets it upon the bank. She goes back to washing her clothes and again the scorpion falls in. The woman saves the scorpion and is again stung. The other woman asks her, ‘why do you continue to save the scorpion when you know its nature is to sting?’ ‘Because to save it is my nature,’ she replies.”
“You obey your nature even when it hurts you.”
“Exactly. But, you see, that’s impossible when you take sides. We don’t believe in punishment. One need not be punished for their actions, because they will be punished by them. Taking sides means that you focus on one of the opposites, ignoring or—even worse—hating the other. How can you hope to unify them then?”
I’ve heard enough. He raised an accusing finger at his captor. “Your words are pretty, but your actions ugly. We, too, have a saying: ‘the more you talk, the less you know.’ You work for the Shei-ka-zuul, and don’t even know it. You captured me. That’s taking sides. The old man in Malekshei? He took sides. He lived with Fallen.”
The old man waved away the accusation with a dismissive gesture. “My understanding is that he offered you hospitality and you killed him. Whose actions are ugly then?”
“He tried to kill Cyrus.”
“Did he now? Even if that were true, and my brother did indeed try to restore balance in his own way, would you not have been tempted to kill a young Hitler had he been at your mercy?”
“A what?”
“I apolog
ize; I forgot that you haven’t studied Newcomer history. Hitler—a notorious Earth leader whose actions resulted in the death of millions.”
“He was evil then. Cyrus is not evil.”
“Now, now, evil’s such an unpleasant word… We try to be objective in our study of history; so much is just a matter of perspective. Let me tell you a Newcomer story. One of their leaders raised great armies and ruled over millions, building a vast empire. However, pirates plagued his empire. One day a pirate was captured and brought before the emperor, who asked him: ‘By what right do you terrorise the seas like this?’ ‘I terrorise the seas,’ the prisoner replied, ‘but you terrorise the world. The only difference is that I have but one ship, so they call me a pirate. You have a great navy, so they call you an emperor.’ Which of them was evil?”
“Cyrus does not terrorise anyone.”
“Not yet, anyway. But he will.”
“You don’t know that. David says no-one knows the future.”
“True, but we can recognise certain signs. Take your friend Cyrus for example. First of all, he’s a Newcomer, and we both know they can’t be trusted. Then, he slept with your wife, proving himself lustful—not to mention a very poor friend. He murdered Styx in cold blood, so he’s wrathful. He took over her leadership despite his father being much more deserving than him, so greedy too. Finally, I believe you’ll agree with me that he is quite a proud young man?”
Lehmor’s face flushed with anger. “Lies and pretty words. We say: ‘pretty words are not sincere; sincere words are not pretty.’ We say, ‘don’t judge a man by his worst action.’ You are devious like the Shei-ka-zuul.”
The man tilted his head in wonder. “Am I? I don’t think so. They feed on fear and rage; they’re one of the opposites, with the Orbs the other, feeding on love and compassion. We seek the middle ground, see both sides of the story, ensure they both survive in order to maintain the balance. We’re not terribly fond of order—we prefer a healthy mix of chaos in there as well—but we wouldn’t want a world where the Shei-ka-zuul roam freely either. But this isn’t about me. It’s about you: what will you do now you know the truth?”
Pearseus Bundle: The Complete Pearseus Sci-fi/Fantasy Series Page 29