A door opened behind him, and he spun around to face a muscular First. His surprise at seeing Lehmor on his feet was only matched by Lehmor’s own shock.
“You!” Lehmor growled. His voice came out gruff, scratching his throat. When was the last time I spoke?
The man smiled a wide grin. “Well, I see you recognise me. That’s a good sign.”
Lehmor glanced at the bear’s tooth that hung from the man’s thick neck. “Stripet,” he said, spitting out the name. After spending weeks as his prisoner, he remembered vividly the last of the Bear clan. He wondered if the strange grey-clothed man who had escorted Stripet last time was also there.
The man took a comical bow and chuckled. “The one and only, at your service.”
“What is this place? Am I your prisoner? Again?”
Stripet took a hurt expression. “Believe it or not, it wasn’t my idea to bring you here. But we had no choice; you would have died, left on your own. And no, you’re not a prisoner. You can leave as soon as you’re better.” He motioned towards the bed. “Come, sit down.” Lehmor preferred to stand, but his legs felt wobbly and unsure, so he did as the man said, trying to hide his frailty. “Thank you,” Stripet said as soon as Lehmor lay back on the bed. He leaned towards Lehmor and hooked him up to the tube with the transparent liquid again. “What’s your name?”
Lehmor gave him a suspicious look. “Lehmor.” He swallowed a couple of times to relieve his burning throat.
“What’s the last thing you remember?”
Lehmor scratched his head and bit his lip as a sharp pain shot through his injured skull. He carefully traced a deep scar; one still tender to the touch. “What did you do to me?” he asked, his voice thick with suspicion.
“We saved your life,” Stripet said impatiently. “Now, try to focus. The last thing you remember?”
Memories rushed back. The fight with Cyrus, half serious and half in jest, cut short by two arrows on his chest. He gasped and pushed up the soft white cloth that covered his upper body. Two wide scars covered his chest, almost meeting. He traced them with light fingers, then remembered more. The fall over the cliff, the despair of impending death. His last thought had been of Moirah, and another kind of pain filled his heart. “I fell,” he said in the end, not knowing how far he could trust Stripet.
Stripet laughed. “Ha! The understatement of the year. You fought with your old buddy. He betrayed you and left you for dead.”
Lehmor had seen the surprise on Cyrus’s face when the arrows hit him, and was certain that was not what had happened, but said nothing, preferring to listen for now. It was obvious Stripet had been spying on him, otherwise how could he know all that?
“You were lucky that you landed on a precipice, otherwise you’d be dead for sure,” Stripet continued. “It took us hours to get you out of there. You banged your head pretty bad when you fell, and have been sleeping for over a month. In fact, no one knew whether you’d survive.” He gave Lehmor a cynical grin. “We had a pool, you know. I’d bet you’d be a vegetable for a few months, then die.”
“Sorry to disappoint you,” Lehmor said drily.
Stripet shrugged joyfully. “Oh well, these things happen. As soon as you’re up to it, I’d like you to meet some people.”
Lehmor remembered where he was and his brow furrowed. The people wishing to meet him could only be friends of Stripet. The same people that had imprisoned him before. The Iota. He nodded towards the window, towards the Great Chasm, a sight that few humans had even seen. And certainly no one from their side. “Are we…”
Stripet looked at him and smiled. He pattered to the window. “Yes, my friend, you are doubly blessed. Not only did you survive, but you have seen something very few have. Very few indeed.” He turned to Lehmor and spread his arms for dramatic effect. “You have crossed the Great Chasm and are now a guest of the Iota.”
This confirmed Lehmor’s suspicions. “So this place…” said Lehmor and his voice trailed off.
“The city of Oras. That’s what they call themselves, you know. Oras –Watchers in their language.”
Lehmor’s face clouded. “I remember them well.”
“Oh come on, don’t be like that. You were never really a prisoner; we just needed to talk with you, make sure you understand.”
Lehmor pursed his lips. He had no wish to argue, not until he knew more. “Let’s go,” he said and stumbled out of the bed.
Stripet rushed to his side and grabbed him. “Easy now, there’s no rush. Why don’t you lay back and continue this when you’re ready?”
Lehmor nodded. He did not want Stripet to know how badly the room was spinning, so he let him tuck him back into bed.
“Yes. Let’s do that,” he said through gritted teeth, shutting his eyelids to stop himself from hurling.
Stripet clasped his shoulder. “Excellent. Don’t you go anywhere!” He laughed at his own joke and swaggered out.
A deep sigh escaped Lehmor’s lips once the door closed behind the burly First, and his head thunked on the bed. Within seconds, the only sound in the room was his soft snore.
Chamber of Justice, the Capital
Angel
She found herself looking forward to Sam’s visits, but could not help but feel shame at the pile of hay in the corner, stinking of urine. Xhi changed it too infrequently for her liking, ignoring her complaints. Sam did not seem to mind, though. He came for her every day now, to chat under Xhi’s sullen glare. Every time he came, he brought something. An apple; an orange; a pear. Her enthusiasm when he produced these always made him smile, deepening his dimples and making her want to run her fingers through his dark, curly hair.
“How are the twins?” This was always the first question she asked, before even greeting him.
“Sophie’s taking good care of them, don’t worry about a thing.”
Her mind put at ease, she turned her attention to the dull light filtering in through the narrow slits surrounding the ceiling. “What’s it like outside?” she asked wistfully.
He shrugged. “Looks like rain. Now, come, eat up!”
He produced a small parcel from his pocket, and opened it to reveal half a dozen juicy, crimson red strawberries. He took one and brought it to her lips. Her mouth formed an appreciative smile as she sunk her teeth into the red flesh, letting its lewd, sweet flavour fill her mouth. He brought a finger to her face and wiped her chin from a runaway drop. When he absent-mindedly placed it on his own lips and sucked it clean, her heart fluttered. She swallowed and threw him a shy smile. He grinned and looked down in embarrassment.
“So, you said you knew my dad?”
His face turned serious again, and he glanced at Xhi, sitting at the far end of the hall, pretending not to listen. Sam lowered his voice. “I fought with him in Petria. He was quite the man, your father. I loved him. We all did. Damn shame what happened to him.”
“Will you tell me a story about him?”
“He was your dad. Shouldn’t you be telling me stories?”
She pursed her lips. “He was always away, fighting some stupid war or other, or inspecting a city or a garrison. We never seemed to have the time to talk. Not like we should.”
He touched her hand with consoling fingers, and she surprised herself by grabbing his hand and holding it, amazed at how rough it felt under her soft skin. If this startled him, it did not show, and he responded by squeezing lightly her slender fingers.
They sat in silence, just holding hands for a moment, until a sad smile crept on his lips. “I do have one story. We were in Petria. Your father often ate with his men. One night he sat down beside me at dinner, as if we were equals. ‘What do you make of all this?’ he asked me. I didn’t know what to say, so I shrugged. I was trying to be cool, you know?”
A soft chuckle escaped her lips. “I’m sure you were cool as a cucumber.”
“A what?”
She raised her slim shoulders. “Just something he used to say.” She patted his hand. “Go on!”
“I know what you mean,” she said and smiled encouragingly.
“‘Crusoe should never had left New Capital,’ he told me. ‘Whatever possessed him to do so, it will be his downfall.’ I nodded. ‘It’s madness.’ I had no idea what he was talking about, I just said it so he didn’t think me thick. ‘Yes, that’s it. Madness,’ he agreed. He then told me a story I’ll never forget. You know the one?”
She leaned back and grinned. “The mad water?”
“Yes, that’s the one! So you know it?”
“He used to tell it to me as a bedtime story. A faraway land is ruled by a wise king, and his country is peaceful and prosperous. One day, a prophet comes to him with a warning. ‘It will start raining mad water,’ he says. ‘What’s that?’ the king asks. ‘Anyone drinking rain water will go mad,’ the prophet replies. ‘They will no longer be able to tell right from wrong. Wisdom will look like foolishness, and if you let them, they’ll destroy everything they’ve built.’”
She nuzzled her head against Sam’s shoulder. He placed an arm around her before continuing the story. “The king immediately orders his people to store as much water as possible. When the rain starts to fall, they don’t drink from it, waiting for the downpour to stop.”
Sam removed a strand of hair from her face with tender fingers. “That’s right,” she said. “Only, it doesn’t stop, and weeks drag into months, until their supplies start running out, and they have no option but to drink the mad water. Once they do, they turn against the king’s decisions, finding fault with everything he does. The king and his court try to reason with them, but it’s impossible. In the end, the people take arms against them and place the palace under siege.”
It was now Sam’s turn to continue. “’What are we going to do?’ the court asks the king, as the mob threatens to burst through the gates. His face white as a ghost, the king gives the order and they all drink the mad water. They then walk to the gates and talk to the people; only this time they, too, have gone mad. They understand each other perfectly, and the mob dispels, while the entire kingdom marches happily to its doom.”
They sat in silence in the dank cell, their backs against the hard wall, hands clasped.
“I don’t think I could make you happy,” he said suddenly.
Her forehead creased at the unexpected words. Words can soothe like balm, cut like a knife or burn like fire, she reflected. She chose her next words with care. “How could you? No-one can make another happy. Only I can make myself happy. Anyway, we seldom end up with the one that makes us happy. Most of the time we simply get the one we deserve.”
He chuckled at that. The thin slits on the ceiling that had previously allowed slivers of light to enter the hall had gone dark by now. Soon, they heard the soft tap tap tap of raindrops coming from outside. She curled against his sinewy body and shivered as he held her close to him.
Chamber of Justice, the Capital
Teo
“So, you have your plans ready for us?” He knew exactly what Gella had prepared, through the network of spies he had planted into every corner of the Capital. She would suggest a direct assault at Jonia; an unimaginative plan, typical of a soldier. He would then present his own plan, a pinching attack from land and sea. On land, they would divide the cities and attack each one in succession. At sea, he would find a way to convince Paul Gauld to lend them his support. He had already put out feelers with Cyrus, and knew he would approve of his plan.
His face glowed as he waited for her reply. She would make a fool of herself, and Teo would come to the rescue, proving once again his worth to Cyrus and bringing this upstart down a peg. Every time his leg hurt, he remembered his humiliation in her hands. His limp had never fully healed, helping him keep his hatred alive. Even worse, she had succeeded in finding David and disposing of him, whereas his own spies had proved pathetically inadequate to perform even this simple task. This annoyed him to no end. He prided himself in knowing all there was to know about what happened on Pearseus, although reliable information on the First was particularly hard to come by. Most of his attention was given to the power games within the walls of the Chamber of Justice, anyway; from Gella’s meetings with the chiefs of staff, to Angel’s release from prison and subsequent home arrest. She still refused to obey Cyrus and marry Paul, but perhaps there were other ways to convince her. Maybe even putting some pressure on the young man his spies told him she fancied…
He would come up with a solution; he always did. That is why the boy-king heeded his advice, and much as Teo resented ruling through others, he had proven good at it. Perhaps someday I won’t need an intermediary. The thought brought a hint of a smile to his face.
Gella switched on an e-lib and the soft glow of a map filled the empty table before them. She pinched the air above the wood and the map zoomed in, to show Jonia. “This is where the rebellion started. Paul Gauld, your friend, is its leader.”
Teo’s face flushed. “My friend?”
Gella threw him an innocent look. “Isn’t he your friend? I thought you grew up together.”
“Former friend,” he growled.
“Of course, I didn’t mean anything by that,” she said and cast him another innocuous glance. “When I captured you, I was under the impression that you were still friends.”
He ground his teeth. Why was this upstart antagonizing him? Didn’t she know who he was? “Thank you, I remember your mistake clearly.”
Her eyes flashed in fury. “Mistake?” She leaned closer to his ear. “You may have fooled everyone here, but I see you for what you are, Teo Altman,” she hissed.
Her outburst took him by surprise at first, then rage filled him; a rage he concealed behind a benevolent grin. Someday I will flay you. But not today. “And what is that?” he whispered back, keeping his voice flat, his face a jovial mask.
“A coward and a traitor,” she whispered, then leaned back as the door behind them swung open to let Cyrus in.
They both spun around and bowed their heads. She has a soldier’s honesty, Teo reflected. Good, I could use that. She should never have tipped her hand like that, though. If he were in her shoes, he would have befriended himself, not declared war. Soldiers, they are so simple-minded, he sighed.
Cyrus sank into a chair and waved towards them. Gella focused her attention back at the map, pointing at Jonia. “My lord, as I was telling Teo –”
“Master Altman,” he growled, emphasising each word.
She ignored him and continued, causing his face to turn a deeper crimson. “This is Jonia, where the rebellion started. It is the snake’s head. To defeat the rebellion, this is the city we need to capture.”
Teo prepared for his moment. She would now suggest an attack there, and he would point out the many faults of her strategy, starting with the fact that Jonia would never fall as long as it ruled the seas.
“However,” Gella continued, “we can’t just attack it from the east; we need to enforce a sea blockade first.”
Teo opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. He felt a vein pulse on his forehead. It was astonishing how often soldiers forgot about the sea, he reflected, but she was not making that mistake. He had no intention of letting her score an easy victory, though. “How can we reach Jonia?” he asked. “We have to go through all the other cities between us and them first. And I hate to admit it, but our fleet is no match for the Jonian one.” His face hung with an expression of deep regret. “Sadly, our former commander of the prince’s forces has failed to build up the navy the Capital deserves. I am sure General Gella will do so, though.”
He enjoyed the baffled look on Gella’s face. Perhaps he could salvage a victory yet. Making her a glorified ship-builder would go against everything th
e soldier in her stood for; a predicament Teo could not fail but enjoy. She smiled warmly before continuing.
“Thank you, Teo, but I have a better idea.” A snicker flickered on Cyrus’s lips while she tapped the map. Various cities dotting Jonia lit up. Arrows appeared on the map, pointing towards them. “Should the region stand together, they form a formidable opponent. So, we divide them. The First have been quiet for some time now. So has the South. If we bring in troops from those regions, our army will be large enough to attack simultaneously at least three different satellite cities.” She pointed at three red dots. “These are the softest targets. Ephia on the north, and these two farther south. They should fall easily, while the simultaneous attack will ensure none of the cities will rush to their aid. Everyone will be wondering where we’ll strike next, and will be too busy shoring up their own defences to worry about their neighbours.”
“We can’t leave our borders exposed like –” Teo started to protest.
“Nonsense! I had the exact same idea as Gella!” Cyrus exclaimed and eyed Gella with new-found respect.
Teo’s brow creased in frustration. Yes, he had. But how could she know that? A suspicion nagged at the edge of his consciousness.
She continued with more enthusiasm, spurred on by Cyrus’s approval. “That will ensure us victory on land. But, like I said, no victory over Jonia can be complete without a naval campaign.”
Pearseus Bundle: The Complete Pearseus Sci-fi/Fantasy Series Page 37