He crawled into his bed, trying to make sense of everything that he had seen, too worked up to sleep. If Pratin and Stripet were planning on taking over the Iotas, they needed to be stopped. He could not do that on his own, though; he needed help. Could he trust Oran enough to tell him everything, or was he part of the conspiracy? He struggled to imagine him as anything but sincere, but could he take such a gamble with his own life?
In the end, he decided he had to risk it. If Pratin succeeded, the whole planet would feel the consequences. In the morning, he would tell Oran everything.
The door flung open, interrupting his feverish thoughts. He shut his eyelids and pretended to be snoring softly.
“Good, you’re here,” Stripet said.
Lehmor stretched and yawned, as if the man had woken him up. “Is it morning?” he murmured innocently.
“Get up. Let’s get that arm of yours fixed. Then, we leave.”
Lehmor blinked in surprise. “Now?” he blurted out.
“No reason to waste any time, is there?”
Shit! His decision to warn Oran had just become moot. “Can I say goodbye?” Lehmor asked as he crawled out of bed.
“No time,” Stripet said and threw him his clothes. “Anyway, I thought you’d want to get your arm back as soon as possible.”
A strange light played in his eyes, unnerving Lehmor; could he be suspecting him? “I thought you were joking,” he laughed, hoping to sound convincing.
“Anything is possible to an Iota,” Stripet said with pride. “Now, come!”
Lehmor rushed after him, as they slithered through half-lit corridors. For a moment he considered attacking Stripet, but the Bear would be more than a match for him. Even if he could take him, Pratin would see to it that he never spoke to Oran. His frustration rose. His plan had failed before he even had a chance to pursue it, but there was more: he hated the thought of the planet’s treachery seeping into this haven of tranquillity.
He followed Stripet, still struggling to think of a way to contact Oran, until they arrived at a wall. Stripet pushed the soil away with his foot, to reveal a palm print on the ground. He knelt and placed his palm into the indentation and the wall before them flickered away, revealing a narrow opening. It slid shut behind them as they crossed into a small cavern, similar to the room Lehmor had woken up in when they had first rescued him.
Lehmor took a deep breath, expecting the familiar mouldy smell that surrounded the entire underground complex. Instead, an unnatural, pungent odour greeted him. A single bed stood in the middle of the room, and Stripet motioned him down, taking Lehmor’s robe off.
“What now?” Lehmor asked as he lay down and held his breath. The bed’s surface felt cold under his skin.
“When you wake up, you’ll be whole again,” Stripet promised and pushed a narrow, transparent tube into a vein on Lehmor’s arm.
The room started spinning, and Lehmor clenched his jaw. “Why are you doing this?” he mumbled through gritted teeth, and Stripet threw him a suspicious look. Lehmor hurried to explain. “Once I rule the North, what will you want in return?”
“The Old Crone,” Stripet spat. “Just leave her to me.”
“Why?”
Stripet stared at him with bottomless eyes. “I know you think she had no choice but to disband our tribe when our Argikar were stolen. That she did it because of the war with the Whispers. You’re wrong, though. We could have won this war ages ago. So many slaughtered by the Fallen because of our rusted swords, when she has the weapons to wipe them from the face of the planet. Always had.”
Lehmor’s brow furrowed. He had trouble focusing on Stripet’s voice. “How do you know?” His voice came out slurred.
“I was there. I saw them. When she decided to get rid of the Bears, she sent her assassins against us. They didn’t belong to any tribe I knew. Their symbol was the howling wolf.”
“No tribe wears that,” Lehmor whispered.
“No. But that’s not the strangest thing I remember from that night. These men did not carry normal weapons. They had arrows and swords of fire, like the ones the Iotas or the Newcomers wield.
“They came unexpected, at night’s darkest hour. It was raining, the worst storm in years. We had no warning; the first we knew of the attack was the explosive fire that fell from the sky, burning through our houses and our bodies. Those unlucky enough to survive tried to put it out, but water only made it worse. Amidst the chaos, no one noticed the silent shadows slipping around, slitting throats. When we did, we tried to fight back, but our weapons were useless against them. They wore but thin armour, yet no metal could penetrate it. Their swords melted ours, turning battle into slaughter.
“And yet, we fought on, with the despair of those facing certain death. I watched my father’s blade slice half their leader’s face off. The bastard survived. My father didn’t.
“When they were done, they searched the village for survivors. I was but a toddler, and my mother hid me under her skirt. I heard her beg for her life, then all I remember is a burst of light and her warm blood seeping all over me, mingling with the cold rain.” His face had turned ashen, but his voice stayed eerily flat, almost monotonous. “I should have fought for her, protected her. Instead, I stayed hidden under her body like the coward I was, huddled in the mushy soil, until dawn. When I finally found the courage to come out, I found everyone dead. Old people, women, children; even our animals. Everyone slaughtered like cattle. I later found out that only those lucky enough to be away survived, but they were proclaimed clanless by the Old Crone. Bear children were taken from their families, wives given to new husbands, our land surrendered to the Crows. An entire clan erased, our existence wiped from memory.”
“And you?” Lehmor murmured.
“I slipped through a crack in the fence and hid in the forest. I almost bumped into a Crow patrol closing in. It was still raining, which is why they didn’t notice me. They had encircled our village, making sure no one escaped the night’s onslaught. I didn’t know that at the time, of course, but something made me hide as they approached. Then, a little girl ran out of the village, crying out for help. Another survivor! I couldn’t believe it, almost ran to her. You know what they did?”
Lehmor shook his head, a knot in his stomach.
“They shot her with their arrows. She didn’t even make it to them. That’s when I knew I was on my own. I ran away and fell onto a man in a grey cowl. He was observing the carnage, fists clutched in rage. A lightning illuminated the storm on his face.”
“Pratin.” The word escaped Lehmor’s lips with effort.
“Yes. He seemed as shocked to see me, as I was. ‘I know what they say, but how can a man watch such an atrocity and do nothing?’ he asked me. I was just a child; had no answer. Even so, I could see the struggle in him as he debated what to do with me. I clutched his leg, not letting go, begging him to take me with him. ‘You don’t know what you’re asking,’ he said, but I didn’t care; all I wanted was to survive, to punish those who did this. I started wailing, not caring if any Crows found us. Was it his conscience? Or just fear that the Crows would hear me? Whichever it was, he decided to take me with him. So, now you know. I owe him my life, and would do anything for him.” He leaned over Lehmor. “Anything,” he repeated, his breath tickling his ear, and Lehmor nodded in numb understanding before drifting into oblivion.
Ephia
Gella
“Will we have to tolerate your incompetence much longer?”
Gella unconsciously clasped the hilt of her dagger and shot a dark look at the man who had stormed into the tent. “Excuse me?”
“We should have defeated these savages ages ago,” Teo said, waving away an insect with an annoyed gesture. It had been an unseasonably warm summer and insects abounded, even inside the spacious tent. He filled a studded goblet with sweet wine before flicking a handful of dates into the crimson liquid. “And now it’s been months. Are you ever going to take that wretched village?”
Observing his annoyance gave Gella a small degree of guilty pleasure. “They would have handed it over, but you didn’t want it, remember?” she asked sweetly. “Something about teaching them a lesson?”
The people of Ephia had withdrawn behind their walled city. Following Teo’s disastrous assault, Gella had decided to starve out their fighting spirit. It would be slower, but better than charging an emboldened enemy. In the meantime, the Capital had captured two more cities farther south, and her duties co-ordinating a multi-pronged assault had allowed her to avoid Teo most of the time.
“I knew they shouldn’t have sent a woman to do a man’s job,” Teo muttered under his breath.
Gella’s hand slipped at the hilt again, stopping as a guard burst through the tent. “Master Altman, it’s here,” he said, out of breath.
Teo jumped to his feet. “At last! Even you will have no trouble beating some sense into those savages now,” he said and shot outside.
After a moment’s hesitation, Gella hurried after him. A large carriage drawn by eight horses stood inside their perimeter. Something very heavy, obviously. She studied the tent covering the containers; it draped over an unfamiliar shape, with a long protrusion. A small crowd gathered around them.
“What is this?” she asked a soldier, but he shrugged in ignorance.
“This, my dear General, is the answer to our problem,” Teo shouted to be heard over the commotion.
She eyed him with suspicion. “What is it?”
Waving his arms in his usual theatrical manner, he ordered two soldiers to remove the tent. It slipped to the ground, revealing a particle cannon and an iron box, the size of a horse. A soldier helped Teo up the carriage, and he stroked the metal before facing the crowd, like a politician about to give a speech.
“My friends, I know how exhausted you must be from all this waiting around.” He ignored the soldiers’ uneasy looks and continued, excitement choking his voice. “This little toy will allow us to burst through Ephia’s walls within a day. Straight from the Capital’s defences, I had it brought over to beat those rebels into a pulp! With this in our hands, they will surrender within a week. You have Teo Altman’s word on that!”
He seemed to wait for cheers or an applause, but the look on Gella’s face stopped anyone who might have done so. Disappointed, he jumped off the carriage and walked over to her. “Even you should be able to win this now,” he said, staring provocatively at her.
“Not in front of the men,” she snapped at him and pulled him roughly by the arm. He stumbled behind her until they reached the tent and she pushed him inside.
“What’s that monstrosity?” she asked.
“I told you, that ‘monstrosity’ will win us this war.”
“Has it even been tested? It’s been decades since a particle canon was used in the Capital. Its defences are mounted on its walls, powered by Lucas’ grid; how will we power it?”
He gave her a triumphant look. “We’ve found a generator. We believe it was built in Justice Dar’s time. All it took was some decent cleaning for it to work like a charm.”
“How much damage?”
“It can raze an entire city square with a single shot.”
She leaned towards him. “And kill anyone unfortunate enough to be standing there. Men, women, children…” She spat at the ground. “A coward’s weapon. I fight soldiers, Teo Altman, not children.”
“We will use the weapon tomorrow, General.”
“Or what?”
He grinned and produced an e-lib from his pocket, switching it on. “The weapon’s not the only thing to arrive from the Capital. Once Cyrus heard of your failure to capture Ephia, he gave me the right to overrule your decisions.”
She grasped the e-lib and studied the letters flowing on its glowing surface for a moment, then threw it back at him. He tried it to catch it mid-air, but it slipped and thunked on the ground. He clicked his tongue and picked it up. “Now, General, this is no way to behave to your superiors. So why don’t you act like a good soldier and prepare the weapon for tomorrow?”
“You will slaughter civilians,” she growled. “I’ll be no part of this.”
“Traitors,” he laughed. “It will be glorious. With such a weapon, no one will oppose us ever again!” Still laughing, he swaggered outside.
Petria outskirts
Marl
“Daddy, Daddy!”
Marl grunted in his sleep and turned over to Pauline. “Don’t look at me, it’s your turn,” his wife mumbled and gave him a gentle push out of the bed. He sat on the bed half-asleep, trying to muster the strength to get up.
“Daddy!” his daughter hollered, the urgency in her voice waking him up fully. “I’m coming, honey,” he cried out and groaned as he raised his body to his feet. Once again, he had overdone it with the digging and every muscle ached.
He hurried to her room and pushed the door open. The first thing that hit him was an unfamiliar acrid stench that burned his nostrils and made his eyes water. For a moment he thought he was still dreaming. This must be one of those weird dreams, where you know you’re asleep, but can’t wake up, he told himself. Valentiner was sitting on her bed, blanket pulled around her body, staring at an orb of light hovering in the middle of the room.
“What is it?” she asked him excitedly.
Every hair on his body stood up and he gulped. All sleep had left him now, his heart racing at the unfamiliar sight, his glands pumping adrenaline into his body. Rays of sickly green travelled within the unfamiliar yellow thing in the room, making him think it must be ill. Parts of it rotated unevenly, jerkily, to form smaller disks, gyrating at different speeds. He approached the sphere and lifted a hand to touch it. As his finger stroked it, a sudden feeling of despair swallowed him; more dreadful than anything he had ever felt in his life. The light in the room vanished and he tried to scream, but his body felt colder than ever, as if made of icy nightmares. For a moment he thought his fingers would crumble and break like icicles and his mind raced furiously to make sense of the horrifying experience. The sickly sphere seemed to slide at a glacial speed towards his daughter, and he groaned as he tried to break his paralysis and spring into action. Every muscle in his body felt like exploding into icy fire. Too slow, too slow!
He watched in helpless anguish as the orb glided towards his daughter, who had frozen in place, like him. “Daddy, make it stop!” she cried out as his wife burst into the room. She rushed towards the bed and tried to grab Valentiner, but the sphere exploded in a cold light that catapulted her against the wall. She crashed against it and dropped on the floor like a broken doll. The sphere resumed its movement towards the child and paused for the briefest of moments, as if making a final, terrible decision, before plunging into Valentiner’s chest.
Valentiner drew a sharp breath as her lovely face drained of blood, leaving it ghostly white. Her jaw dropped and her eyes rolled back, rotten blackness taking the place of twinkling golden-brown, while her fine hair turned white.
“No!” Marl roared and the spell suddenly broke. He raced to his daughter; she lay still as he shook her. “Quick, we need help,” he cried to his wife, realizing belatedly she had not gotten up. With Valentiner still in his arms, he dove next to his wife. “Honey? Can you hear me?”
His eyes jumped in panic from one victim of the nightly attack to the other, as his mind struggled to comprehend. It was only then that he heard the repeated, urgent banging on the door and the shouts coming from outside.
Shaking violently, Marl tore the door open, his daughter’s motionless body in his arms. His breath caught at the sight of several silhouettes surrounding him in the night. “Can you help me?” he cried out.
A tall, ferocious First covered in furs stepped out of the night and into the house. He pulled back his hood and two kindly eyes studied Valentiner. Marl failed to notice this, though; his gaze fixed on a deep scar. It seemed to split the man’s head in two, in a diagonal line that cut through his face. Few men would have survived such a blow
. The First extended his hands in silent invitation, and, after a slight hesitation, Marl let him take Valentiner in his strong arms.
“Are there more?” the First asked.
“Pauline.” The First stared at him with questioning eyes. “My wife,” Marl hastened to explain. “She’s in there.” He pointed towards Valentiner’s bedroom.
“Go,” the First said, and two more warriors, a man and a woman, burst into the room.
They emerged a moment later. The man carried Marl’s wife in his arms. “She’ll be fine,” he said. “It spared her to join the child.” He then slipped back into the room.
“What’s happening?” Marl mumbled time and time again, trying to wrap his head around the night’s events.
“Your daughter needs to come with us if you want her to live,” the scarred man said. He seemed to be the leader.
“Who are you? What happened?” yelled Marl, his voice hysterical.
A strong arm held Marl’s shoulder to steady his shaking body. The tall First cradled Valentiner with his other arm as if she were weightless. “We were tracking the thing that attacked your daughter. We hoped to catch it before it harmed anyone, but were too late. It’s inside her now. If we don’t pull it out in time, it will turn her.”
“Turn her? Turn her into what?” Marl yelled. He shoved the man’s hand away.
The First pursed his lips and gave him a stern look. “Fallen,” he said in the end.
“What’s a fallen?” Maybe I’m dreaming. Maybe I’ll wake up soon and everything will be normal, and I’ll tell them my weird nightmare over breakfast, and Valentiner will tease me for being so scared. Yes, that’s it; I’m dreaming.
The man did not reply. The second First emerged from the bedroom. Their leader gave him a questioning look; the man nodded before rushing out the door. “Your wife will be fine,” the First leader told Marl after the silent exchange. “But we need to hurry if we are to save your daughter.” He turned to leave.
Pearseus Bundle: The Complete Pearseus Sci-fi/Fantasy Series Page 43