“Your host?”
“Gestating our children means travelling between various realms, so we need hosts to keep us safe while pregnant. David is mine.”
A dry smile appeared on Parad’s lips. “I’m your child, then?”
“Yes, in the sense that I am offering you an alternative to the cycle. This makes me responsible for your preparation, so you can enter this next stage.”
“If I accept, will I die again?”
“All creations are mortal, and we’re no different. But you won’t perish. There are countless paths, all stemming from the One and leading back to the One. No-one perishes until they’ve reached it.”
“Even the Whispers?”
“They’re not real, so no.”
“They’re very real,” Parad interrupted him. “I should know.”
“That’s not what I meant. They were created by creatures; not the One. That’s why they can’t move on like us.”
“Move on? Where?”
Lucas shook his head, making Parad wonder if he did not know, or did not want to say. In any case, it mattered little; he had a decision to make. They remained silent while Parad considered his options. “Very well,” he announced in the end. “What do I need to do?”
“Not much. Just choose your path.”
A moment later, a blaze of white light burst up all around them, engulfing them, until the entire world exploded into blinding light.
Part one
“Man’s main task in life is to give birth to himself,
to become what he potentially is”
Erich Froman, The Journey From Lunatic To LunaQueen
March 306 After Landing (AL)
General Parad’s house, the Capital
Angel
“Will you tell us a story?”
“What kind of story?” Angel stared with mock bemusement at her brother, pretending to ponder the question.
Elsie, his twin sister, sat next to him, her face mirroring the boy’s sulking expression. A single lamp sat on the wooden nightstand between the two beds, shining its flickering light on the three siblings and sending long shadows to chase each other on the sparsely decorated walls. “You know which one,” she told her older sister accusingly.
“Oh, that story!” Angel said, bringing her hand to her forehead in a theatrical movement, as if she had only just realised what they meant.
“You’re silly,” Elsie said, and the twins giggled.
Angel had blossomed into a smart young woman with big, almond-shaped eyes and long, shiny sable hair that accentuated her fine features, but to the twins she was still just their older sister. Even before losing their parents, she had been the one to take care of them. For years, Marta, their depressed mother, had sank ever deeper in dark thoughts. Their father’s affair with Gella, his aide, had driven Marta further into despair, until she had taken her own life. Their mother’s premature death had served to accentuate Angel’s role as a surrogate mother to them, her only help being Sophie, their housekeeper and caretaker.
Sophie was one of the First people, her real name unpronounceable by the Newcomers, as the First called the Pearseus’ survivors and their descendants. Everyone in the household just called her Sophie. She had been with Parad’s family for as long as Angel could remember, a second mother to her, taking care of everything. Other servants came and went, but Sophie was all the real family any of them had. Cyrus’s return and meteoric rise to the position of the Capital’s de facto ruler, changed little in that respect.
“The story of Pearseus,” Angel continued. Her brow furrowed in mock puzzlement. “Again? Wouldn’t you rather hear…”
“Angel!” they shouted in unison, giving her a scolding look.
“Alright, alright.” She threw her hands into the air, eliciting further giggles. “I’ll tell you all about it. It was a couple of years after you were born. The Capital was at war with the Loyalists.”
“You’re not telling it right,” Cook said. Her little brother loved food, and always hung around in the kitchen, tasting this and trying that. Yet, he informed anyone who would listen that he would become a great soldier, like his father. Some soldier, Elsie had teased him one day. We should call you Captain Cook. All your wars will be fought in the kitchen. This had made everyone laugh, and the name had stuck. “Start at the beginning,” he ordered.
“Everyone’s a critic!” Angel joked, and pinched his cute nose, ignoring his loud squeal. “Fine. Our ancestors came here from far away, a place called Earth. It was beautiful, they say, but surely not as nice as our Pearseus. After all, you are here, and how pretty can a world be without you?”
They ignored the compliment, excited by the story. “And Pearseus was the name of the ship that brought them here,” Elsie continued impatiently. “A flying ship!”
“That’s right, sweetheart. Pearseus was the name of that ship. It brought them here, but was too broken to fly anymore. So, they started a new life here, building the Capital.”
“But they were not alone.” It was Cook’s turn to interrupt her, too excited to wait. The twins watched her with gleaming eyes, and she stroked her brother’s head, tussling his fine, dark hair as she continued.
“No, there were already people here. The First, like Sophie. Sometimes they helped us, other times we fought. It doesn’t matter anymore, for they live in the North now, far away from here.”
“Aren’t they all servants?” Elsie asked.
Cook clicked his tongue in disapproval. “Don’t be silly! They’re warriors!”
She stuck her tongue out at him. “You’re silly! Sophie’s no warrior.”
“Enough, you two,” Angel said. “Most First in the Capital are servants or merchants, but in the North they’re considered brave warriors. Sometimes humans trade with them, other times we fight.”
“Are they good?”
“Well, they have their laws and customs and we have ours, and sometimes we don’t understand each other. But they’re honest and brave.” Which is more than I can say for most of us, she wanted to say, remembering the cruel behaviour of Styx, the previous ruler of the Capital, but stopped herself.
“What happened next?”
“When we arrived, all was well at first. Then a bad man called Croix tried to rule people, but he was stopped by a brave man, Lucas, and the very first justice. Croix’s followers, the Loyalists, left the Capital and started an endless war against it. It was only after Daddy defeated them and killed their last captain that peace was restored.”
“Our daddy was a soldier,” Cook informed Elsie, a wise look on his face.
She elbowed him. “I know, silly. That’s why everyone called him General Parad.”
“May I continue?” Angel asked, pretending to be offended by the constant interruptions. Their heads bobbed up and down. “Anyway, peace was short-lived. In the west of the Capital are the Jonian Democracies, led by Paul Gauld.”
“And they’re mean and they fought us.”
“They still do, although there hasn’t been much fighting in the past few years. No-one knows how long this will last, though. Probably until Cyrus feels strong enough to make his move.”
“Our Cyrus! Prince of the Capital,” Cook said with pride. “One day I’ll be like him.”
I hope not! The thought came unbidden, and Angel scolded herself; she should not be thinking that. And yet, he had changed since their father’s death. He rarely stayed home, preferring to spend his days and nights at the Chamber of Justice. In fact, she had not seen him in weeks. “Well, I hope you won’t do the things he did,” she blurted out.
“He killed the last justice to take her place,” Cook whispered in his sister’s ear.
She shook her head. “Styx was killed by his First friends.”
Angel could understand why her little sister would want to believe that, but in fact it had been Cyrus who had slaughtered Styx, despite Parad’s objections. Angel still remembered the terrible row Parad had had with his son once he discovere
d that Cyrus had broken his vow not to harm her.
“Well, he was helped by two First clans, led by Lehmor and Moirah, but it was Cyrus who killed her,” Angel admitted reluctantly. She was old enough to remember all this, unlike her siblings. Her eyes darkened at the next memory. “They also had an advisor, a young man called David. They say he talked regularly with the First’s leader, someone they call the Old Woman. It is even whispered she’s given him special powers.”
“Magic!” Elsie exclaimed, her dreamy smile betraying her fascination.
“Sure, honey, magic. But no one speaks his name now, not since he killed Dad. He’s a traitor. If anyone sees him, they can kill him and be sure Cyrus will make them rich.” The thought made her bitter. Even today, she wanted to believe the whispers that it had all been an accident; that Cyrus had acted in haste when he exiled him. A sigh escaped her lips as she continued. “David has disappeared. Some say he’s dead, or that he’s back with the First, or that he’s fled to Jonia. Some even say he’s gone all the way to the Western Democracies.”
“To Anthea,” Elsie interrupted.
“Yes, darling, probably Anthea, since that’s the biggest city there.”
“Led by Sol.”
“That’s right, led by a woman named Sol.”
“I want to be like her. I want to lead a city!”
Cook snickered at this and Elsie threw him a dark look, her jaw protruding in silent challenge. “I’m sure you can do anything you like,” Angel assured her. “God knows I can’t deny you anything.” Her sister seemed satisfied by this and let her continue. “Sol took over at a time of trouble. Teo Altman, a friend of Gauld’s, used to lead Anthea, but Teo betrayed them. He fled to the Capital and Sol restored peace.”
“Is that Uncle Teo?” Cook asked.
Angel’s gut clenched at that. Uncle Teo! The man gave her the chills, with his rude, arrogant manners. Inevitably, his foul temper had worsened with power. Last week, he had punched a servant because he had slipped on a freshly washed floor. It was not the servant’s fault, of course; Teo still limped from the injury Gella had inflicted on him. He was a bully; why Cyrus would keep a man like that close to him, Angel never understood. She avoided Cook’s inquisitive eyes. “Yes, darling. He’s Cyrus’s most trusted aide now.”
“But you said he’s a traitor!”
She bit her lip. She should be more careful what she said, but hated the thought of feeding her own siblings with lies. Still, it was hardly safe for her to go around accusing Teo Altman of treason; the man’s informers were everywhere, and even Cyrus’s own sister might not be safe from him. She sighed resignedly.
“Yes, treason and treachery do seem to follow him, but none of that matters. If our brother trusts him, then it’s not for us to question his judgment. Anyway, if you’re gonna keep interrupting me, we might as well go to sleep.” She rose abruptly, ignoring their pleas. “Sophie,” she called. “It’s bed time!”
A tall woman slipped through the door, as if she were waiting outside for her cue. Her long, silver hair was wrapped in a tight bundle around her head, highlighting her gentle features and smooth skin. It was impossible to determine her age; she could be anywhere between forty and sixty. The only adornment she wore over her plain clothes was a simple amulet with an image of the Lady, her arms stretched in a blessing gesture, etched on a small silver disk.
As Angel left the room, Sophie tucked the twins in. “Come, my dears, it’s time to sleep now,” she said before placing her palm behind the lamp and blowing the flame out.
Angel smelt the burnt wick and a sad smile crawled up her lips. One of the privileges of being a general was owning a house powered by solar panels. After three centuries, however, the batteries were almost dead, unable to store the power delivered to them by the sun. Angel had insisted that they use lamps like common people until a new wind-powered turbine, of the kind produced by Anthea, could come in from the west. Or until someone could figure out a way to fix the panels, something that required the free distribution of knowledge among the people. Perhaps I should talk to Cyrus about that, she thought, hope suddenly springing in her heart.
Chamber of Justice, the Capital
Cyrus
A black, smoky tendril was wrapped around his neck, slowly choking the life out of him. His finger fought to pry it open, sinking instead through the misty entity to clutch his own throat. His gaze crawled to Moirah, shivering horrified in a dark corner. His pleading eyes met hers and he gasped her name in despair with his last breath.
“Who’s Moirah?”
The question, carrying more than a hint of jealousy, startled Cyrus, snapping him awake. “Huh?” He opened heavy eyelids and blinked in confusion.
“You cried out her name,” the young woman lying in his bed accused him.
He wondered if it was jealousy that he saw on her pretty face and studied her striking features, struggling to remember her name. She meant nothing to him; did she not know that? Twirling a loose strand of curly hair out of her beautiful face, she crossed her arms and pouted at him. It was probably meant to be sexy or cute, but it only triggered his rage. He struggled to keep his emotions under control lately, but her disrespect made him clench his fists.
Whatever she saw in his stormy eyes made her reach for his face. “I’m sorry, baby, I didn’t –”
“Baby?” he snarled.
For a moment she looked confused, then she corrected herself with a small gasp. “I meant my prince. I didn’t mean –”
“Get out,” he murmured.
“What?” She froze, her hand hovering an inch from his cheek, eager to offer him affection.
“Out!” he bellowed, his rage bubbling to the surface. “Get out!”
She shot out of the bed and fled the room, barely pausing to grab her clothes from the floor. He heard the snickering guards outside as they drank in her exquisite, half-naked body, then Teo Altman strolled in.
“Now what?” Cyrus barked at him.
Teo’s face beamed, and the fury in Cyrus’s heart slowly quieted down. “My prince, I have great news,” Teo exclaimed. “This place is amazing! It seems that your predecessor had more treasures hidden away than anyone realised.”
Cyrus struggled to get excited by the news, but the heaviness in him failed to lift. “What are you talking about?”
“First of all, one of Pearseus’ original medical bays! It was mothballed in storage, but I believe it can work again, with a little effort.”
A deep crease appeared on Cyrus’s face as he strained to recall any details from his father’s history lessons. “Don’t those things need a doctor to work?” he asked in the end.
“According to legend, they are fully operational even without one, but yes; a doctor was traditionally responsible for them.”
“Does the Chamber even have any doctors?”
“You know how your predecessors felt about knowledge. The only doctors I could find are little more than witches.”
Cyrus fell back on his bed and shut his eyelids. His sudden awakening had left him with a headache and he rubbed his temples, longing for this conversation to end. “Then what’s the big deal?”
“I have also found medical instructions in one of the e-libs. There’s so much knowledge stored there,” Teo said, a hint of surprise in his voice.
“You don’t say,” Cyrus murmured, his thoughts drifting to the deep forests on the North. How he longed to be there… “Why does this shock you? Didn’t you have e-libs in Anthea?”
“E-libs, yes. Information, no. My ancestor, rest his soul, was an athlete back on Earth. Our family’s e-lib was filled with videos of every sport ever played. I grew up memorizing statistics about games no one’s even heard of on Pearseus. But this… I now understand the need to control knowledge.”
“OK…” Cyrus’s voice betrayed his bemusement by Teo’s passion.
Teo leaned forward, his gleaming eyes filled with enthusiasm. “With your permission, I’d like to train one of the doctors
to its use.”
A flash of pain shot through the back of Cyrus’s head. “You think he’ll do anything about these headaches?” he murmured.
“My prince?
“Whatever.” He waved his hand dismissively. I’m too young to get sick, anyway. Anything else you found down there? Anything interesting, I mean?”
Teo let out a soft chuckle. “Of course. I found a portable generator.”
For a second time, Cyrus failed to feel any excitement, and wondered for a moment if he had made a mistake in trusting Teo to run the Capital. Would the man turn out to be nothing but a useless librarian? He closed his eyes, sinking deeper into his pillow. “How’s that interesting?”
“On its own, it’s not. But combine it with an energy weapon or a particle gun…”
“And you have a battlefield cannon,” Cyrus said, his eyes popping open as the pounding in his head eased. “Now, that’s interesting.”
“We still have to see if we can link it up to any of our existing weapons,” Teo cautioned him, “but the e-libs should contain the answer to that.”
“Have you found who’s going to operate it?”
“There is the sergeant in the Guardians. His superiors speak very highly of him. With your permission, I’d like to start working on it right away.”
Cyrus guffawed. “Jonia won’t know what hit them.” He staggered out of bed and reached for his goblet. Teo hurried to fill it with sweet, Jonian red wine, then grabbed a flask of water. “What’s that for?” Cyrus asked him.
“It’s still morning, my prince. I thought…”
Cyrus placed his palm on top of the goblet to stop him from diluting the liquid. “Don’t think. Just go and build that cannon for me.”
““I’ll get to it right away,” Teo said, a wide grin plastered on his lips. “But first I have an idea about how to end the war with Jonia without even firing that cannon.”
North of the Capital
Pearseus Bundle: The Complete Pearseus Sci-fi/Fantasy Series Page 32