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

by Nicholas C. Rossis

  “I’m afraid we may have to wait a few years for our navy to catch up,” Teo sighed, ignoring Cyrus’s annoyed expression.

  She gave him an amused look. “Not necessarily. If Paul Gauld can be convinced to give up the rebellion, we can easily defeat the rest of the cities. I’m sure Teo can think of something to offer his friend, in exchange for that?”

  Cyrus’s eyes flashed with excitement, while Teo’s darkened. This was exactly his plan; the one he had been preparing Cyrus to accept these past weeks. The very one he would offer today, making himself a hero. A plan he could not help but support. “That’s a great plan,” he said with mock enthusiasm. “In fact, it’s just like the one –”

  “Yes, yes, let’s hear her out, shall we?” Cyrus interrupted him. “Her ideas are excellent.”

  “Of course, my lord,” Teo said through clenched teeth.

  “Time is of the essence,” Gella continued. “We need to complete the campaign while the weather is good, and before Jonia has a chance to build an alliance with the Democracies...”

  Teo was no longer listening. He had been outwitted by her. Not only were these not the plans his spies had brought him, but she had known his own plans all along. She had played him. But how could a woman who had just arrived to the Capital have outsmarted him? She must have had help; but who?

  June 306 AL

  City of Oras

  Lehmor

  “I’m pleased to see that the reports of your recovery were not exaggerated,” said the miniscule old man standing before him. Stripet had led him to a cavern and left him there. The far recesses of the rough walls were hidden in darkness, broken only by bright torches that produced neither flame nor smoke, placed on tall stands, made by the same organic material as Lehmor’s bed. He was starting to get used to life in the City of Oras, but it still amazed him. A by now familiar musty smell filled the room, which stood empty, save for a small rack spilling with palm-sized rods and dull-looking disks in the middle of the room. Next to it stood a low fountain, overflowing with running water. Its sweet murmur echoed in the room, lulling him.

  Lehmor studied his new teacher. Stripet had told him that his lessons would start shortly, but he had not expected his tutor to be that frail. The man had a kindly, wrinkled face and had to be the oldest Iota he had seen thus far. “Thank you,” he mumbled. I’ll have to be sure not to hit him too hard during practice!

  “I’m Oran,” the old man introduced himself, taking a small bow.

  Lehmor bowed his head in return. “Oran. Isn’t that like singular for Oras?”

  The man laughed with an easy laughter. “Very astute. Yes, it was my distant ancestor who led us to the moon, where we took refuge. Our entire group is named after him.”

  Lehmor shook his head. The man looked so old that he probably was the original traveller. “Well met.”

  Oran studied him for a moment, then put one hand on Lehmor’s belly, and another on his back. “Why don’t we start with something simple. Breathe.”

  “Huh?”

  “Breathe,” Oran commanded, and Lehmor stood upright, taking slow breaths for a while.

  Oran’s brow furrowed. “Humph. Half dead, half alive.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “We’ll work on that. Now, why don’t you take a sword and defend yourself?”

  Lehmor glanced around him. “I would if I found one.”

  A chuckle escaped Oran’s lips. “Blind, too.” He walked to the rack and picked up a rod and a disk. Lehmor observed the man’s gait; he seemed to slide across the floor in an effortless flowing motion.

  “Here you go,” Oran said and placed the rod in Lehmor’s palm. Sliding his hand over it, he pried off the top, slipping it over Lehmor’s wrist and fingers. He then held the disk over it, which jumped from his hand to click on the rod’s middle, attaching itself. He gave it a gentle twist, securing it in place. “We usually hold the shield with one hand and the sword with the other,” he explained, “but given your circumstances they can also be used on the same hand.”

  Lehmor felt the blood rush to his head at the reminder of his disability. “What shield? What sword? What are you talking about?” Then it hit him; this was a variation on the Sheimlek. His had been lost when he almost died, and his heart raced at the thought of possessing a new one. The weapon had an unusual black colour, as if it sucked the little light from around them, and was constructed of a warm metal with a matte surface. “How do I turn it on?” he asked, tapping it excitedly with his thumb.

  Oran showed him a slight indentation, easily reachable by his finger. “Like this,” he said and stepped aside as the rod came alive with a sparkling blade made of fiery red light.

  Lehmor laughed and waved it around in a moment of pure pleasure. “What do you call it?”

  “I doubt you could pronounce it. What did it look like to you at first?”

  “A rod.”

  “We’ll call it a rod, then.”

  Lehmor stared at the disk attached to the rod. “How do I use the shield?”

  “It comes alive when it’s needed,” the man replied, a wide grin on his face. “You can also use it to fire missiles,” he added and Lehmor’s jaw dropped. This is better than a Sheimlek! “How? Show me!”

  Oran placed Lehmor’s thumb in another indentation and jerked his hand backwards. A crackling ball of fire left the weapon to explode on the far wall.

  “This is great!” Lehmor cried, his voice betraying his excitement.

  Oran shrugged. “Only as great as its yielder.”

  Lehmor spun around, holding his arm out in mock attack. “What do you mean?” he asked, and fired another missile. It screeched through the air and Lehmor let out a loud cry when it burst against the wall, leaving a small crater behind. It took him a while to realise that Oran had disappeared. “Oran? You still here?”

  His eyes were darting around the room looking for his teacher, when he caught a whiff of an unfamiliar, foul stench in the air. His nostrils flared, trying to pinpoint its origins. Part of the wall behind him came alive in the shape of a hulking, growling beast, covered in a crustacean shell. Four sets of great claws, along with two long arms, reached for Lehmor, and he recoiled in terror. The beast studied him for a moment, then took a step towards him on thick, armoured legs. The ground thudded under its weight as it cocked its head, making the writhing tentacles that covered its neck sway sickeningly. Four insectoid eyes glared at Lehmor. Although he had fought an army of Fallen in Malekshei, his heart skipped a beat at its foulness when its snarling filled the empty hall.

  “Oran?” he whispered. “Oran!”

  No reply came, and he steeled himself for the fight with the freakish monster. It took a cautious step towards him, lowering its head to study him better, snarling incoherently. Lehmor took a step back, then let out a loud cry and charged. He struck the first blow at the creature’s leg, and a piece of its armoured shell fell off. The monster hollered in pain and struck at him with one of its massive claws, crashing against the empty ground as Lehmor jumped backwards.

  “Even with one arm, I can still take you,” he boasted. Rushing to his feet, he fired a volley of missiles. The beast rolled to its side in one swift motion, covering itself within its shell. Most of the missiles missed their target, but two bounced against the thick armour. It then charged at Lehmor with a combined attack from all its four claws. Lehmor cowered and the shield activated, covering him in a crackling red sphere. Sparks flew around him as it absorbed the brunt of the attack, and the monster recoiled, giving him the opportunity to fire more missiles at it. One of them hit it on the face, blowing away half its head. The beast shrieked in pain and stumbled backwards, dropping heavily to the ground. Lehmor jumped on its chest and plunged his flaming blade between two slabs of the hard shell, and into the soft flesh underneath. With its dying breath, the beast tore him away with one of its claws, sending him to crash onto the ground. He cowered again and the shield activated itself in anticipation of another blow, but it w
as not necessary; the monster let out a deep sigh and melted into the ground, disappearing as suddenly as it had materialized.

  Lehmor rose to his feet, shaking with excitement. A flash of movement caught his eye and he spun around to see Oran. “How did I do?” he asked with a trembling voice, certain he had impressed the old man with his prowess. I may miss an arm, but I can best any of you, he thought with pride.

  “I’m sorry, I had no idea you had so much to learn.”

  Lehmor’s grin disappeared as his beaming face hollowed. “What do you mean? I killed it with honour!” Oran stared at him with crossed arms and Lehmor sighed. “Where did I go wrong?”

  “The best way to win is by not fighting at all. The Ancient was friendly, had no quarrel with you. Had you talked to her, you would have seen that. When you fight an unnecessary battle, nobody can win.”

  “Friendly?” Lehmor protested. “It was a monster!”

  “Ugly, yes?”

  “Yes! Ugly and evil! A threat –”

  “Lack of communication doesn’t always imply a threat. It’s not her fault you can’t speak her language,” the elderly Iota interrupted him. “No one can, nowadays,” he continued and sadness crossed his wrinkled face. “Our new form is too different for that. So much lost.”

  Comprehension dawned on Lehmor. “That’s what you looked like?”

  “Before you destroyed our planet, yes. Our people burrowed under the earth, so you missed us at first. When you found us, you killed us like the monsters you thought we were. Even if you hadn’t, we couldn’t breathe your air. We changed our bodies to survive in your new world.”

  Lehmor felt his face redden. “I didn’t know.”

  “None of you did. But that’s just an explanation, not an excuse.”

  “What can I do?”

  Oran shrugged. His aged face did not betray any emotion. “What can any of us do? You’re not responsible for your ancestors’ crimes; only for your own. So, try to be a better person than them. If everyone did that, we’d live in heaven.”

  “Anything else?” Lehmor asked. He looked away, annoyed, his wounded pride still prickling him.

  “Don’t extinguish the fire you can’t light. All life is sacred; treat it with the reverence it deserves. Respect even the monsters; then you can do no wrong.”

  “I see.”

  “Good. Now, about your technique: you fight like a beast.”

  Lehmor felt his cheeks were on fire, as if the old man had smacked him. “I’ve won hundreds of battles,” he said curtly.

  Oran made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “You were lucky, then. You fought even worse warriors than yourself.”

  “Even with one arm I best everyone in my tribe.”

  Oran’s sparkling eyes betrayed his curiosity. “What tribe is that?”

  “The Wind Warriors,” Lehmor said, his chest swelling with pride.

  “So, what is the strongest element on Pearseus, Lehmor of the Wind Warriors?”

  The question took Lehmor aback. “Stone? Iron?”

  The old man clicked his tongue in disapproval. “You think like you fight. You’re not a Wind Warrior, you’re a rusty warrior. The wind is insubstantial, but it will eat away the tallest mountain. The water is yielding, but it will eat away the hardest sword. The soft will always defeat the hard.”

  Lehmor stopped himself from rolling his eyes. “What does this have to do with fighting?”

  “Everything! When the opponent strikes, be light like the wind. How can you lose if his sword never meets yours?”

  “I know that,” Lehmor said, his voice thick with anger.

  “Then show me.” A thin smile played on the old man’s lips. “Attack me!”

  “You have no weapons. I’d kill you.”

  Oran shrugged. “Why don’t you try?”

  “Very well.” He lifted the rod and lowered his arm towards Oran, who sidestepped the blow with ease.

  “Even a mouse could beat you,” Oran scolded him.

  “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “Fight!”

  Lehmor charged at him, this time for real. He lowered his shoulder and made a swooping motion with his arm, lunging at the old man. Oran kneeled, dropping his centre of gravity, and met the assaulting hand with his elbow. He spun around and his diminutive size turned out to be an advantage, as Lehmor lost his balance and flew across the room, crashing on his back. The rod fell from his hand, turning itself off and landing on the ground with a dull thud. Before Lehmor could rise, Oran had jumped on him. He struck Lehmor’s chest with a single blow that made him gasp.

  Lehmor felt his heart slow down, then stop, and raised his pleading gaze to Oran’s face. The old man had barely broken a sweat, and stared at him expressionless for a second. “Please,” Lehmor groaned, and Oran struck Lehmor’s chest once again. The faltering heart started beating again.

  “Thank you,” Lehmor moaned after a few moments in a broken voice.

  Oran nodded. “First lesson: never underestimate your opponent. The Ancient looked great, but it is me you should fear.”

  Lehmor tried to get up, but his knees buckled and he fell on his face, his tears moistening the earthen ground.

  “Tomorrow, we continue,” Oran said taking a soft bow. When Lehmor finally managed to crawl back on his feet, he stood alone in the empty room.

  July 306 AL

  Chamber of Justice, the Capital

  Angel

  “Please reconsider”.

  “I told you, you can’t make me marry Paul!”

  Cyrus threw her a suspicious look. “Is there someone else? Is that why you won’t help me?”

  “I won’t help you because I’m not a piece of property, to be sold and bought so I can help your ambitions!”

  He drew a sharp breath and clenched his fists. She instinctively drew backwards, but he made no move. “It’s not my ambitions you’ll be helping, it’s your land,” he said with a steady voice.

  “My land will do just fine without me whoring myself,” she blurted out without thinking.

  I deserved that, was the strange thought that hit her when he struck her. Horrified, she brought a hand to her burning cheek. And yet, she felt nothing but pity for him. This was not her brother; couldn’t be. She blinked and for a moment it was a monster that stood before her; a dark shadow with long limbs and red eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “But don’t make me say it again: you will marry Paul, or be thrown back to jail.”

  She had been allowed out of prison a little over a month ago, and hated the thought of going back. And yet, she jerked her head upwards in defiance. “Then throw me back. I’ll never marry him.”

  He stared at her for a long time. “Have it your way,” he finally said . He flung the door open and barked a command. Two guards rushed in. Her heart fluttered at the sight of Sam.

  Sam avoided her gaze as her brother ordered them to take her back to prison. “Yes, my lord,” was all he said as he took her by the arm to lead her back to prison. As they passed through the door, Angel threw a pleading look at her brother, but he had turned his back to them.

  “That’s alright, I’ll take her to Xhi,” Sam told the second guard as soon as they had turned a corner.

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah, don’t worry. I’ve got this.”

  The second guard shrugged and stomped down the corridor.

  “What are you doing?” Angel asked Sam as soon as they were alone.

  “Shh, we don’t have much time. Tie asked me to keep an eye on you. She will –”

  “Tie? The priestess?” She struggled to make sense of his words. She only remembered Tie as a fat priestess of Themis, who somehow seemed to be sleeping through all meetings of importance in the Capital. Her brow creased in confusion. “What does she want with me?”

  “She can help you escape.”

  Her jaw slackened. “Why? And where can I go, anyway?”

  “She didn’t say. All I know is that she wanted me
to help you.”

  She should be happy, but his words sent a pang of pain through her heart. “Is that…” She paused, trying to figure out her feelings. “Is that why you came to visit?”

  “Yes, of course.” He pulled her towards a side door. “Now come, we must –” She made no move to follow him and he paused. “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s just that I thought…” She shook her head. “Nothing, I’m sorry. You’re right, we must go.”

  It was his turn to stand still. “It’s not the time, nor the place.”

  “I know, you’re right. Let’s go.”

  “Yes.”

  They both stood still, their eyes locked for what felt like an eternity. Without realising it, their bodies inched closer, until they touched. Their faces continued the movement forward and their lips met, melting into each other. He ran his hands through her hair as she dug her fingers in his back, drawing him closer. He tasted salty and sweet, and time lost its meaning as they kissed for the longest time. She was out of breath when they broke the kiss. “We must go,” he said.

  After a moment’s hesitation, she nodded. His hand never left hers as they rushed towards Themis’ temple. They burst through the heavy door and slammed it shut, stealing anxious looks behind them.

  “Where is she?” Angel asked.

  He studied the empty room. Themis’ statue seemed to stare down at them. The sadness of her smile sent a shot of foreboding down Angel’s heart. “We must go,” she said.

  “Don’t be silly. She must be in her office. Come!”

  He knocked on the closed door, waiting for an answer. When none came, he pushed the wooden frame open.

  Instead of Tie, Teo Altman greeted them. Two burly guards stood behind him. Sam pushed her behind him, covering her with his body as the doors to the temple burst open and more guards rushed in, surrounding them with pointed spears.

  Teo clapped his hands slowly, in a mock applause. “Well done. Thank you.”

  Angel gasped. “What’s the meaning of this?”