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

by Nicholas C. Rossis

  The question unnerved Marl. “What do you mean? I was a soldier, that’s all.”

  “Did you fight for glory?”

  “I told you; it was just a career.”

  “I see. You had nothing worth fighting for.”

  Marl thought about that for a moment. “No, I guess I didn’t.”

  “But now you do: you have a family. You love them, don’t you?”

  A warm smile played on Marl’s lips at the thought of Pauline and Valentiner. “More than I ever thought possible.”

  “And you wish to protect them.”

  “Of course!”

  Abaddon shook his head in wonder. “So, you were a soldier when you had nothing worth fighting for, but a farmer now that you have something worth protecting. Huh. I’ll never figure out you Newcomers.”

  He lay down on a giant fur Kiwi had placed on the ground and turned his back on Marl. Soon, he was snoring. Marl, on the other hand, stared into the crackling fire, unable to find solace in sleep.

  Malekshei

  Moirah

  “Easy there,” Moirah said, jumping back to avoid David’s charge. Then the smile froze on her lips as she noticed his expression. “What’s wrong?”

  “Are you here to see Lehmor?”

  She pushed him away. “Don’t try to stop me. I know what you’ll say, but I heard about his father, and he’s still my husband. I must –”

  “Yes, I mean, no, I won’t stop you. He needs you. Get in.”

  She grabbed his arm as he turned to leave. Their eyes met, and she read his worry; this had nothing to do with her. What’s going on? She left him to rush into the room.

  The room reeked of fresh vomit, which she traced to a small puddle before the window. Lehmor lay on the bed with his clothes on. She hurried next to him to study the cuts and bruises on his face. He’ll be fine, it’s nothing serious. Picking up a blood-stained cloth, she brought over from the stove a pot filled with warm water and wet the cloth. He had no fever, she noticed with satisfaction, as she cleaned his face tenderly, caressing it with long, gentle strokes.

  His eyelids parted and he moaned.

  “Shh, I’m here. It’s okay.”

  “Stop him!” he groaned.

  She blinked in surprise. “David?”

  “Stripet! Kill –” He screamed in agony.

  Moirah’s first instinct was to storm out of the room to find Stripet, but a pang in her heart stopped her. She was a warrior, but also a mother and a wife, and her place now was by her husband’s side. David would know what to do. For the first time in her life, she decided to let others carry the weight of command.

  She sighed softly and brought a chair by his bedside, pushing with her leg a cloth-covered lump under the bed. She stroked his hair. “I thought I’d lost you once. I’m not leaving you again. Not now, not ever,” she promised her listless husband and dipped the bloodied cloth into the lukewarm water.

  He opened feverish eyes to stare at her. “Do it for our daughter,” he whispered.

  Moirah hesitated for a moment before grinding her teeth and storming out of the room, pausing only to grab a dagger from the nightstand.

  A window in the corridor had the perfect view of the courtyard, and she craned her neck through it. She squinted to see better in the dim early morning light when a movement caught her eye, a rider appearing from the stables to her right. It looked like Stripet, although she could not be sure from the distance. She wondered how to stop him as he trotted towards the main gate.

  David burst from the castle, shouting something. His eyes darted around the courtyard, then fixed on Stripet and he sprinted towards him. “Stop!” he cried out.

  Stripet noticed him and spurred his horse, galloping towards David, who stood between him and the gate. David dropped on his knees and raised his arm. Moirah hoped he would stop Stripet, but could not wait to find out; he would pass her within seconds.

  With a loud cry, she dove from the window to land on top of Stripet, as he galloped under her. Catching the rider by surprise, her weight sent them tumbling onto the frosty ground. They both rushed to their feet at the same time, and a wide grin appeared on Stripet’s face as he saw the woman warrior blocking his way.

  “Moirah, no! Go away!” David shouted, but she had nowhere to go. The startled horse trotted off, stopping halfway towards the stables. Moirah measured her opponent, waiting for him to draw a sword or dagger. He played with a dark rod in his hands instead, and she wondered if he expected to defeat her with a staff. This will be an easy victory, she thought, then reprimanded herself. Nothing was what it seemed anymore.

  The blood left her face as half the rod extended into a bright flame with a whooshing sound. What is that? It looked like her Sheimlek or an energy sword, but she had never seen that design. The flame did not tremble; it burned a cruel, hungry red, and she stole an uneasy look at her dagger. It was no match for an energy sword, let alone a fully-charged one. She cursed herself for leaving her own Sheimlek back in her room.

  “Duck!” David shouted, and she dove onto the ground, her attention still glued on Stripet’s weapon. A blue sphere of light raced next to her head, towards her opponent. Stripet raised his left arm and a small disk on his wrist pulsed with energy, creating a shield of red light around him. The blue sphere exploded against it, sending Stripet to crash on the ground.

  That’s a new one! She glanced at her dagger with involuntary contempt, then saw her opportunity. Stripet had raised himself to his feet and was mimicking David’s stance, his right arm raised before him. A red sphere of light, the size of her fist, left his hand to charge at David, exploding on the ground before him as he flew to the side to avoid it. He cried as the debris hit him.

  Moirah let out a sigh of relief at the sight of David raising himself to his feet. He assumed his kneeling stance and sent another blue charge against Stripet, but he must have been shaken by the explosion, for his aim was off and it overshot Stripet, who steadied his aim and prepared for another shot. Another red pulse burst from the rod in his hands, this time exploding between the gate guards who were rushing towards them in alarm. Screams of pain filled the courtyard as the explosion sent them flying into the air. Stripet took aim again and fired one volley, then another. His attention fixed on the repeated bursts of red light, he ignored Moirah, who slipped behind him.

  Perhaps iron isn’t so useless after all. She slithered against his back to press her dagger against Stripet’s throat, just as he was preparing to fire the next shot. “Stop,” she commanded and the man froze in place, slowly raising his arms in the air. “Good. Now –”

  Stripet threw his head back, catching her by surprise and crushing her nose. She cursed and brought her hand to her bloodied face, as Stripet let his body melt through her hands. How did he… With a swirling motion, Stripet kicked Moirah’s feet from under her. She crashed against the ground with a force that left her winded for a moment. Stripet jumped over her, his raised arm aiming at her torso. She rolled to her side just as the fiery blade plunged into the ground next to her, to kick Stripet in the kidney. He groaned in pain, staring at her with eyes that dripped malice. She gagged through the blood filling her nostrils and mouth, and spat it out, trying to get up. Stripet kicked her in the ribs, sending her to fly through the air.

  Her instincts kicked in and she landed on the ground, rolling away from him. He charged at her and she raised her hands to protect herself with the dagger, ignoring the pain in her gut. Stripet raised his flaming blade and chuckled as he prepared to finish the job. She cursed in the knowledge that Stripet’s sword would cut through the iron weapon like butter.

  “I wouldn’t do that,” a deep voice boomed behind him. He froze for a moment, then raised his hands in surrender.

  Moirah grinned in relief at the sight of Lem standing behind the man, his hands gripped around his ol alem’s leather handle, its tip grazing Stripet’s neck. The rod of fire slipped through Stripet’s fingers and onto the ground, its flame extinguished. She
started to crawl to her feet when Stripet pushed back and swirled around to grab Lem’s wrist, spinning it around to push the ol alem deep into the man’s bowels.

  “No!” Moirah cried out and vaulted onto Stripet’s back as he flung Lem away. She dug her elbow into his back, throwing all her weight into the strike. He growled in pain and turned to face her, giving Ram the opportunity to charge him. Ram’s thick arm snaked around Stripet’s neck, cutting off the blood flow to his brain, while Moirah punched him again and again, even after he had lost consciousness.

  Annoush rushed to hold her in his arms. “It’s okay, it’s over,” he said. He stared in shock at Lem’s dead body as people scurried around them. then someone brought a thick set of chains. Moirah winced when she heard the heavy clang of iron placed around Stripet’s wrists and legs.

  Malekshei

  Lehmor

  “So, what are you saying?” Moirah whispered to her husband.

  “I’m saying it’s not over,” he whispered back, stealing a look at Two-horns.

  The night’s events had spread like wildfire through the village. Two-horns had convened an urgent Elders’ Council. They were now gathered in the spacious room that served as meeting hall. Traditionally, the Elders sat on the ground around a fire pit, but since moving to Malekshei the custom had been dropped. Nowadays, a round, metal stove played the part of the fire pit, and it was around this that they sat down, on thick rugs that soaked up the room’s cold. Lehmor sat next to Moirah, across from David and the shaman.

  With Lehmor’s father dead and Moirah’s father still away, Two-horns sat at the head of the Council. They waited for him to speak first. He cast a wary eye at Lehmor, eyeing his wounds with some sympathy.

  “Start at the beginning,” he said with a calm voice. “And no lies this time.”

  Lehmor jumped as if stung by a bee and his face took on a crimson colour. He swallowed his pride, though, and started with Cyrus’s betrayal. Moirah had her head bowed through that part, her ears burning a bright red. Lehmor still did not know how to deal with her infidelity, but appreciated having her next to him, despite everything.

  When he arrived at the duel with Cyrus, David’s face whitened. “It’s worse than I thought,” he murmured.

  “Not his fault,” Lehmor tried to explain, but he could see that no one believed him. For some reason this pained him more than he expected. He then narrated the events at the Iota complex. Their eyes widened as he explained how he’d been across the Great Chasm, and nearly popped when he described the army of men growing inside glass bubbles. Moirah clutched his hand, and he held it with gratitude.

  “My crystal speaks of such things,” David commented, “but I thought they were myths.”

  Once he started talking, Lehmor could not stop even if he wanted to. He told them everything, including the strange cube in his room and Stripet’s parting threats. It felt good to talk, the words washing his soul clear from all fear, lies and suspicions.

  “I’m so sorry,” Moirah murmured when he finished, squeezing his hand. “The baby’s yours, I know it.”

  She can’t know that, a voice whispered in his ear, but he ignored it. He nodded, trying to fight the tears suddenly welling up in his eyes.

  David was the first to break the long silence. “Do you believe Stripet? His story, the Wolves… Is it true?”

  Lehmor rubbed his eyes. “Yes.”

  David’s face sagged; he looked much older now. “He’s not wrong to hate her, from the sound of it. I wish the Voice were here to explain,” he said and sighed. Realising he had said that aloud, he pulled his coat tighter around him, as if to hide inside it.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Two-horns said. “We need help, and have no time to lose.” He faced Lehmor. “Will you talk to the Old Woman? We need her advice, and she may have questions for you.”

  Lehmor blinked in surprise. “Why me?”

  “You need her blessing to succeed your father,” David reminded him. “The tribes need both leaders, so you have to go anyway. Besides, Moirah’s father should be back any day now. He’ll take care of things until your return.”

  Lehmor nodded, biting his lower lip as it hit him that he was now the Wind Warriors’ leader in all but name. “I’ll go.”

  “I’ll come with you,” Moirah said.

  Lehmor caught her wrist. “No. You stay.”

  “I’m not leaving you again,” she protested.

  He placed a tender arm on her shoulder. “You must protect our daughter.”

  A soft smile played on her lips. “Be careful,” was all she said in the end.

  Two-horns raised himself on weary legs, and everyone mimicked him. “It’s settled, then. Lehmor will ask for the Old Woman’s guidance.”

  “I’ll go get ready,” Lehmor said.

  “No. You leave in the morning,” Two-horns said. “You need to rest, and we have preparations to make.”

  “But –”

  Two-horns’ stern look stopped him from arguing any further. “So it shall be,” Lehmor murmured and bowed his head. He might be the heir, but he was not yet their leader. Not until the Old Woman had given her blessing.

  Part Three

  “Everything that lives is holy, life delights in life.”

  William Blake, The Marriage of Heaven and Hell

  March 307 AL

  The Marshes

  Teo

  The rhythmic sway of the cart had lulled him. It was late afternoon, after all; it would soon be dark. His thoughts lingered on Paul Gauld. He wondered if his old friend had received his message yet; his move in the elaborate chess game they played. In the meantime, they had left Ephia to travel further north and west, circumventing Jonia’s thin line of defence. Once behind it, they would attack their next target. Just which one, he was trying to decide in that sweet state of half-sleep, when his thoughts were unusually clear.

  His well-honed survival instincts never slept, though, and it is these that made him pop his eyes in alarm when he sensed another presence. He recoiled at the sight of a hooded man in a grey robe sitting across from him. The man pulled back his cowl making a shushing sound to reassure Teo. His ancient features were framed by long strands of grey hair.

  “Who are you? How did you get in here?” Teo considered calling the guards, but if the stranger had a knife it might be best if he made him feel safe first.

  “My friends call me Pratin.”

  “And your enemies?” Teo blurted out.

  The man chuckled. “You need friends, don’t you, Teo Altman? Powerful friends who can help you?”

  “I know everyone,” Teo sneered. “If you’re so powerful, how come I’ve never heard of you?”

  “There’s power, and then there’s power. Take you and Cyrus, for example. People are afraid of him, but it’s you they should be terrified of, isn’t it? The boy will do anything you say, after all.”

  Despite himself, Teo’s lips parted in a grin. “Our prince has honoured me with his trust, but he has no need of me – or anyone else for that matter.”

  “That’s nice. It’s just that I happen to know something of great interest to you. This Gella of yours, you don’t really like her that much, do you?”

  Teo’s gut clenched at the mention of her name, but his face wore a mask of sweetness. He had no intention of sharing his true feelings with a stranger. “Why do you say that?”

  A thin smile played on the man’s lips. “And yet she saved your life,” he continued, brushing aside Teo’s question.

  “She only did her duty,” Teo said, pointing at his bandaged leg. “She said the city was safe, but I almost died that day.”

  “I see. Let me ask you something: why do you think she’s here?”

  “To help us win the war.”

  “I’ll give you a hint. It has nothing to do with you.”

  “Then I guess she’s as ambitious as she is capable.” It pained him to say that, but he had no idea what the stranger wanted. “She killed David to gain a promotion,�
�� he explained.

  “Or did she?”

  Teo’s annoyance flared up. “Don’t speak in riddles, old man. Out with it!”

  “Very well. Did you study her proof when she presented it?”

  “What, David’s necklace? Our prince recognised it; why would I study it?”

  “Because, if you had, you might have noticed the conspicuous absence of a vital liquid.”

  “What are you talking about?” Teo’s brows met in his attempt to understand. He was losing patience fast now.

  “Blood,” the old man explained patiently. “The necklace had not a trace of it.”

  Teo played back the scene in his mind, trying to remember. The white fang glistened in his memory, taunting him. “You’re right! How could I miss that?” He cast a suspicious glance at the man. “How do you know this?”

  Instead of an answer, the man simply shrugged. “The real question here is, what did Gella want? Why did she risk her head by tricking you all?”

  “I told you, ambition.”

  The man clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Not everyone’s like you, Teo Altman.”

  With a jolt, Teo spun his body, sitting upright on the bed. He rubbed his chin. He’s right. She’s not like me. Gella was Parad’s lapdog; she’s always been. What does a lapdog want?

  The man glanced at him, approval now in his smile. “She wants to protect her family,” he said, as if he had read his thoughts.

  Teo’s face beamed with understanding. “Cyrus. She feels protective of him. She pretended to kill David to be near him, hoping to protect him.” He chortled. “And I brought her here with me, instead.” Oh, this is fun!

  “But do you think Cyrus would appreciate being taken by a fool by his dad’s mistress? Would he believe she only wishes to protect him?”

  “If that was true, he would have her head on a spike. But I need proof.”

  “Proof, like an e-lib with David’s photo in Malekshei?” He gestured towards a lump on the small table between them. Grey velvet covered it.