Marl grabbed his shoulders to stop him. “Save… What are you talking about? You’re not taking my daughter anywhere!”
The First spun around and gave him a compassionate look. He paused for a moment. “What’s her name?” he asked in the end.
Marl could barely hear him. All sorts of thoughts whispered in his crazed mind. You can’t trust them! They’re Apes! Savages! Worse than animals! The only way to save your daughter is to take her away from their filth! He shook his head to clear the frenzied whispers. “What?”
“Ignore the whispers. Her name. What is it?” the man insisted.
Marl looked at his daughter’s listless body hanging from the man’s arms. All colour had left her face; she seemed to be slipping away from them with every passing moment. How did he know about the whispers? he wondered, as they reached a frenzy of cacophony in his head, driving him crazy. Shut up! he yelled in his mind, and the whispers scurried away. He sighed in relief. “Valentiner. Her name’s Valentiner,” he muttered.
“Valentiner’s going to be fine,” the man reassured him. “But you must do exactly as we say. Do you understand?”
Marl nodded. He felt numb, empty inside. His shoulders slumped and a wave of despair and resignation threatened to swallow him. He had not felt this exhausted in years; it was all he could do to stand on his feet.
“Do you understand?” the man insisted and shook him.
“Yes!”
“Good. We’ll have someone look after your wife. You’ll come with us.”
Marl jumped to life again. “Come? Where?”
“The Old Woman,” was all the scarred man said as he whirled around to disappear into the night.
February 307 AL
The Marshes
Lehmor
When he heard the horn, Lehmor’s heart swelled with pride for his tribe’s skill. In the soft light of dawn it was almost impossible to see the man hidden up on the tree, even on a crisp winter day like this. And yet, the moment the scout relayed his warning of the approaching riders, Lehmor knew where to look and spotted him almost immediately. He threw a proud look at Stripet, riding solemnly beside him. The Bear had insisted he accompany Lehmor. To make sure the Fallen don’t get you, he had said, but Lehmor knew that was nonsense.
For the first time since they had met, Stripet had tucked the bear claw inside his jerkin and out of sight. Lehmor thought this prudent; he had worried about his tribesmen’s reaction to the last of the Bears. His own emotions were a mess. Every time he closed his eyes he saw the long line of unfeeling soldiers; unholy creatures that should never be allowed to walk on Pearseus. He had to find a way to stop them, but how? He had failed to warn Oran, waking up three days ago deep inside the forest surrounding Malekshei, next to a shrine with the symbol of the Iota. Stripet was his only companion, with no explanation as to how they had got there, or what had happened in between.
And he had a new arm. To Lehmor’s shocked disbelief, Stripet had kept his promise. He still found it hard to use the new appendage, of course. Three days were not enough to undo years of training, and the few times he had used his new arm to wield the rod he had found strapped to his belt, his movements had been clumsy and unsure. He had even dropped it a few times, almost slicing off his leg once. Stripet had laughed at his awkwardness. “Perhaps I should cut it off again,” he had joked. “You’d make a better warrior then.”
Lehmor now clutched the reins with his new hand, in a conscious effort to improve its use. To his surprise, being whole again proved bittersweet. Then again, he was not whole again – not really. His body might have mended, but without Moirah there was still a void in his soul. Every time he thought of her his guts tightened. After all this time, his anger had dissipated and now his only thought was of holding her in his arms again, reclaiming her. Unless you’re too late, a voice reminded him. Perhaps she’s already found someone else.
He shook his head to clear his thoughts. He had no-one to talk to; Stripet had been cruel to him before, and Lehmor still distrusted him. Stripet had not followed him to ensure his silence, he knew that much. But then, why was he there? What was the plan Pratin had mentioned?
Lehmor turned to his silent companion. “Shouldn’t you leave now?”
A thin smile played on Stripet’s lips. “Leave? Why would I do that?”
“How will you pass through Malekshei’s Argikar?” He had little understanding of how the Old Woman’s magic worked, but knew that nothing related to the Whispers could pass through the invisible barrier projected by the devices.
“Why not? I’m as human as you.”
Are you? Lehmor pursed his lips. “People will be suspicious. Someone may recognise you.”
“I doubt it. No Bears have been alive in so long. It is only through Pratin that I have.” He bit his lower lip, as if he had revealed some secret.
When were the Bears exterminated, anyway? Lehmor had no idea; growing up, the story had been an old wives’ tale, lost between myth and reality. Centuries ago, for sure. Stripet was right; there was no-one who could recognise him. No-one but the Old Woman, that is, but she was days away. “What will you say when they ask you about your clan?”
“I won’t lie. I’ll tell them I got separated from my family and was found by a kind stranger, not a First, who raised me as his own. I’m now returning to discover my heritage. It was very fortuitous that I ran into you and saved you from certain death, wasn’t it?”
Lehmor pondered the story. It contained enough truth to be believable. First children raised among the Newcomers were rare occurrences, but not unheard of.
“How will you explain this?” he said, nodding towards his new arm.
“Why should I? I found you like that. Some things are best left mysteries.”
With a light kick, Stripet’s horse trotted ahead and Lehmor rushed to follow him. It looked like his companion had thought of everything. But towards what aim?
They reached the brow of the hill and his thoughts were interrupted by the breath-taking sight of dawn over Malekshei. He pulled the reins and stood for a moment to examine it, a flurry of emotion rushing though his chest. He drew a deep breath, the clear, fresh smell of the moist winter morning filling his nostrils. It smelled like freedom; like home.
“What do you see?” Stripet asked.
A wide grin crawled up Lehmor’s face. “Malekshei...” The warm hues of the morning light and the light fog over the valley made for a magical sight. During his absence, the tribes had been busy. Hundreds of tents littered the once forested area around the thick wall and new buildings surrounded the old castle, filling the once empty courtyard. The river had been widened and made to flow through Malekshei. A new, wooden wall surrounded the tents, while a portcullis on each side blocked the river’s entrance and exit. Lehmor recognised David’s hand in all this, and his heart beat faster. “…Home.”
“Is that all?” Stripet insisted.
Lehmor frowned, annoyed. “Yes…” Then he noticed a faint shimmer. It enveloped the entire village, like a soft, glowing dome. When he focused his gaze it disappeared, only to reappear when he was not staring directly.
Stripet glanced at him inquisitively. “So you do see it.”
“What is that?” Lehmor leaned forward and squinted.
“That, my friend, is the Argikar’s magic. That’s what cost me my tribe.”
“Why can I see it?”
“We made a few… improvements when we replaced your arm.”
Lehmor swirled his horse around. “What improvements?” he asked with a hard voice.
“You’ll see,” Stripet replied. “We also taught you stuff.”
“What stuff?” Lehmor tried to hide his surprise. What else did they do to me? He suddenly realised how much of a deal with the Shei-ka-zuul he had made when he had agreed to Pratin’s friendship.
“Quick, what was their year when the Newcomers arrived here?”
“2099 AD,” Lehmor blurted out without thinking and froze. What is an AD
, he wondered. Anno Domini, a voice in his head replied. “What did you do?”
“Stuff,” Stripet repeated and spurred his horse with a loud cry. “Are you coming?” he shouted, as he galloped down the hill, towards Malekshei.
Malekshei
Moirah
Rocking the half-asleep baby gently in her arms, Moirah lay in bed. The baby gurgled milk and Moirah cleaned her face with tender care. It had been an easy birth, and she had never felt as proud as when the midwife had first placed her daughter in her arms. Both Wind Warriors and the Fire clan had celebrated the new arrival for days, but to Moirah those first days had been scary. She, who had no fear of man or monster, was powerless before the small bundle in her arms. All kinds of emotions still rushed through her heart every time she saw her button nose or red cheeks, and even the constant nursing and cleaning had been an enjoyable, if tiring, experience.
From afar, she heard the horn and her ears pricked. Just one horn; new arrivals. “Shh, it’s nothing to worry about,” she told her daughter in a soothing voice and snuggled the cooing baby closer to her breast. “Probably some merchant, or a friend.”
She had almost fallen asleep when David burst into the room. He blushed when he saw the alarm in her eyes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. But you must come. Now!”
She frowned and struggled to her feet. “It’s not another council, is it?” Last year’s expedition had been in vain. No Fallen had been found, but the rumours had only grown stronger. Her father had left a month ago, leading a second expedition. She had been against it, arguing they needed to wait until spring. However, he had dismissed her fears and promised her he would be back in time to escort her and his granddaughter to the Old Woman for the traditional blessing. The rest of the Council had been embroiled in endless debate as to what the next steps in the never-ending war against the Whispers should be, and she had grown tired of all the talking by now. All she wanted was to spend as much time as possible with her daughter.
He shook his head. “It’s… I can’t explain, you’ll have to see for yourself.”
She rubbed her eyes. It was still early in the morning. In the old days she would have been up for at least an hour, but the baby did not let her get much sleep, and she felt constantly groggy.
“I’ll be right there,” she promised, reaching for a long gown with fur trimmings. February was the coldest month, and even the constantly burning stove could not break the cold’s hold.
“I’ll wait for you,” David said and slipped out, closing the door softly behind him.
She stared at the door for a moment. She could not remember the last time he had been so agitated. He was renowned for his calm, although she often suspected his true emotions ran deeper than he let be known. Still waters run deep, as the Newcomers say. She pulled a heavy woollen sweater around her swollen breasts.
A young girl dashed into the room. “I’ll take care of the baby while you’re gone,” the girl said and lifted the baby from the straw mattress.
What’s the matter with everyone? Moirah nodded, her mind wondering what might have broken through David’s calm demeanour. Then she noticed the strange look on the servant’s face. “What is it?” she asked, sleep now leaving her body as her curiosity peaked.
The girl lowered her eyes to the thick rug covering the wooden floor. “He’s back,” she mumbled.
Moirah’s brows met. “Who’s back? Don’t speak in riddles, girl, what –” A sudden thought crossed her mind and she stormed out of the room, almost tearing into David, who was waiting outside the thick door.
“Wait, you forgot your…” He dashed back into the room to grab a pair of fur-rimmed boots and a thick fur coat, then rushed after her.
She bolted towards the two men dismounting at the gate, oblivious of the frosty earth under her bare feet, until David caught up with her and handed her the boots. She paused long enough to slither her feet into them, hopping on one leg at a time, while he wrapped the coat around her shoulders. One of the new arrivals padded towards her, thin ice breaking under his boots with each of his approaching steps. Her heart raced when he pulled his hood back, allowing her to see his face.
Without a thought, she vaulted into his arms to press her body against his. Raising her face, their lips melted into each other and time stood still. It felt so good to be in his arms, the arms of the only man she had ever loved. Then, a thought burned through her mind and she pushed away, to gape at the baffled man. Arms?
Ephia
Teo
Why can’t things ever be easy? An exasperated sigh escaped his lips. Gella had insisted they test the cannon as thoroughly as possible before firing it. She claimed it was the only way she would accept a possibly dangerous weapon around her men, but Teo suspected it had more to do with her desperate hope Ephia would surrender before they had to try out his new toy.
He caressed the warm metal, which pulsed under his hand as if alive. It was a miserable morning, overcast and wet, with dark clouds smearing the sky, but the weapon radiated welcome heat. There was still no sight of the sun, but at least the drizzle falling for the past few days had finally stopped. He clasped his woollen coat tighter and patted the weapon. Soon, you will heat things up for me, won’t you?
A slight tremor passed under the metal skin, as if the beast acknowledged his thought. A sergeant barked a command behind him and Teo stepped back. A nozzle lifted, allowing scalding steam to escape quivering safety valves. With a loud groan and a tremor, the weapon stood still, ready for the first shot.
“We should wait a few more days; they will surrender by –”
The plea in the voice behind him annoyed him. Not this again! “We’ve waited long enough,” he snarled without looking at Gella. This was his moment, and he would not let her ruin it for him. What did Parad ever see in you? Why don’t you go back to your tent - or, even better, the Capital - and let me win my war?
She said nothing, but her sullen silence annoyed him all the same. “What’s taking so long?” he asked the sergeant.
“Nothing, sir, we’re ready.”
Teo’s eyes lit up. “What are we waiting for? Fire!”
“Yes, sir!”
The sergeant rushed to the control panel and hit a multitude of buttons, glancing at Teo’s e-lib. It had been hard enough to find someone who could read, let alone operate the ancient weapon. Sergeant Sinan was one of a handful of people who could be trusted not to blow them all up. The man swallowed hard and slammed his palm against a button.
The cannon hesitated for a moment, as if considering its options, then recoiled in anger. Ba-Thump! A thin line of smoke traced the missile. It overtook the city to disappear behind it.
“Lower!” Teo commanded, and the sergeant hastened to move various sliders. The barrel inched downwards and the sergeant cast an inquisitive look at Teo. He nodded impatiently, his attention fixed on the city. Ba-Thump!
A portion of the wall disappeared in the distance, leaving a gaping hole. The wind brought the urgent ring of bells tolling from the city.
“A bit lower, and the hole will be large enough for an attack,” Gella said. Teo stole a glance at her; she now seemed excited at the ease with which the wall had been breached. A thin smile crept on his lips.
“Belay that order. Shoot higher. I want the next shot to fall inside the city itself.”
“Why the city? It’s the walls we want to tear down!” Gella protested.
Teo threw her a dark look. “Higher,” he ordered, and the sergeant hastened to obey. Ba-Thump!
A thick column of smoke rose from the city.
“Again!” Teo ordered. Ba-Thump!
Every bell in the city now rang, but the wind also carried the howl of people being cut to pieces from shrapnel.
“That’s enough,” Gella said and grasped his shoulder. “We have what we need.”
He pushed her hand away. “Again! Continue until I tell you to stop,” he ordered.
The sergeant blinked, staring at Teo, the
n Gella, then back at Teo again. “Left to right. Raze the city.” Sinan stared at him, bug eyed. “You have your orders,” Teo snapped.
“Yes, sir,” the man murmured and turned a wheel before hitting a button. Ba-Thump! Ba-Thump!
“This is madness!” Gella rasped.
Ba-Thump! A large dome disappeared, covering the city with dust.
“Why did you become a soldier if you can’t stomach a little blood?”
Ba-Thump! A minaret collapsed, the sound of its destruction reaching them as if they stood next to it. The acrid stench of fire reached their nostrils.
“Not to slaughter unarmed civilians!”
Ba-Thump! The centre of the city disintegrated into deadly debris.
Teo let out a disappointed sigh. A thick cloud of smoke and dust hid away the city, so he could no longer enjoy the sight of his weapon at work.
Ba-Thump! Numerous fires now burned in the distance, choking the city. The wails could be heard more clearly now, despite the heavy smoke. Most of the bells had stopped ringing.
Gella slipped next to him. “My greatest mistake was not killing you when I had the chance,” she whispered in his ear. “A mistake I will fix very soon if you don’t stop right now.” Ba-Thump!
Fear and rage rushed through Teo, each fighting for supremacy. Before he had a chance to put her in her place, the gun howled and screeched, stopping its relentless fire-spitting into Ephia. It started to tremble and shake, as if the weapon had a seizure. “That will do, sergeant. We don’t want to tire her on her first day,” Teo said in alarm.
Sergeant Sinan was already sliding various sliders and stamping switches on the control panel. “I’m trying, but she’s fighting me,” he said through gritted teeth, then punched a big button. With a loud screech, steam escaped valves and the gun lowered its barrel in shame. Men hurried around it, covering it in oiled blankets, as if it were an exhausted boxer. Warm vapour rose from the scalding metal. Sinan wiped his brow, a deep crease of worry on his forehead. “That was close,” he murmured. “I don’t think we can do that again for a while,” he shouted at Teo.
Pearseus Bundle: The Complete Pearseus Sci-fi/Fantasy Series Page 44