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

by Nicholas C. Rossis

  Pratin froze in his tracks, a spasm of anger running through his face, yet his voice came out measured. “And what do you think?”

  “You’re a man of honour. But I no longer lead them. The Old Woman made sure of that.”

  That seemed to placate Pratin somewhat, and he resumed his pacing around Lehmor, his hands behind his back. “I do what needs to be done. The planet will thank me afterwards.”

  “You want to stop the Old Woman,” Lehmor agreed. He had to buy time; if Pratin decided to attack, they could neither fight back, nor escape. Not yet.

  “I was very young when I saw what she’s capable of.”

  “The Bears,” Lehmor guessed.

  Pratin shook his head, lost in memories. “Yes. Abaddon and his Wolves slaughtered everyone without a second thought. Only Stripet survived that night, and any Bears who happened to be away. Once she disbanded their tribe, the entire clan ceased to exist.” He made a swift movement with his fingers. “Poof! She wiped it off of the face of the planet within a single day.”

  “He’s safe,” Lehmor lied.

  Pratin shot him a dark look. “I assume you know what will happen to everyone in Malekshei if you’re lying?”

  Lehmor nodded, his throat too dry for words.

  “I’m not like her. I don’t take any pleasure out of it. I just do what needs to be done. My brethren was stuck in the old ways. First they let humanity destroy our planet, then they stood back in apathy as one crime followed another. Someone needs to stop the bloodshed. While I witnessed the end of the Bear clan, I had to act against the lies.”

  What have you done? Lehmor dared not ask the question burning his lips. “What lies?” he asked instead.

  “Everything! Our philosophy; the Iota; everything. We strive at perfect balance, but what does that even mean when people are butchered all around us? How can we attain perfection by sacrificing the lives of others?”

  “It’s not your doing.”

  “We sin by omission. If you can stop a killer and don’t, are you not as guilty of the crime? Isn’t the victim’s blood on your hands, too?”

  If we’re guilty for sins of omission, then we’re all very guilty indeed. “Killing a killer makes you no better than him.”

  Pratin stopped pacing to face Lehmor. “An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth, as the Newcomers say.”

  “Until everyone’s blind and toothless.”

  A smirk appeared on Pratin’s face. “I don’t have to explain myself to you. Your little trick cost you the rest of your time. If you haven’t delivered Malekshei and Stripet by dawn, we’ll take them ourselves. Tell your men that I won’t be merciful this time.”

  He waved dismissively at Lehmor, and he spun around, his face as expressionless as a plank of wood.

  Without a word, Lehmor pushed the awning to exit the tent. His eyes searched for his horse, but it was nowhere to be found. He placed two fingers in his mouth to whistle, then noticed a pool of blood on the ground. A crimson trail led past the clearing, where smoke from a fresh fire rose.

  He ground his teeth and looked around. Pale blue eyes met his gaze, burning with lust for his blood. Raising his head, he marched through the clearing. He could feel everyone’s glare on his back as his feet splashed on the muddy ground. As soon as the heavy gate shut behind him, he let out a sigh of relief.

  Everyone gathered around him, carrying lit torches that broke the early darkness. He smiled reassuringly at Moirah, then spotted Valentiner in the small crowd. He kneeled down to face her. Her white hair makes her look like a tiny version of the Old Woman. The observation brought him an equal measure of calm and apprehension.

  “We’re out of time,” he said.

  “I know. We leave tonight.”

  He bit his lip, his gaze on the cloth-covered courtyard. “Will it work?”

  She followed his eyes and a smile flickered on her lips. “Lucas thinks so.”

  Lehmor forced a smile on his face. “Good.”

  Chamber of Justice, the Capital

  Angel

  Xhi’s eyes opened wide. “Shit!”

  The man sitting next to Cyrus rushed to his feet, then took a step back. His foot caught on his chair. He fell backwards with a surprised yelp.

  Angel jumped on him, beating her small fists against him. Her fingernails left long scratches on his face. “What have you done to my brother?”

  He raised his hands to grab her wrists, but she escaped him. Xhi barrelled towards them. He landed a powerful blow to the man’s chin, flooring him, then slapped Angel across the face. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  The slap made her ears ring. She slapped him back without thinking, sending him to stumble backwards. He rubbed his chin as the sting on her cheek burned away her rage. “I’m sorry,” she said, then rushed to Cyrus’s side.

  Thick gauze covered her brother’s head and a dark stubble covered his chin. His face had an eerie calmness, as if sleeping. She took him into her arms. “It’s okay, big brother,” she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes. “I’m here now.”

  Xhi pulled her back. “You’ll get us both killed!” Behind them, the man on the floor moaned. Jumping next to him, Xhi pulled a dagger from his belt. The man’s eyes flew open as Xhi raised his hand to plunge it into his chest.

  “No!” Angel grabbed his hand. She kneeled next to the man and helped him back onto the chair. His arm shivered under her hand as she pushed him down. “I’m sorry, but you must understand. My friend here will kill you if you don’t help us.”

  The man nodded vigorously, his eyes shooting from her lips to the naked blade in Xhi’s hand.

  “Good. Now, what have you done to my brother?”

  His jaw hung open. “Your…” he stammered. “You’re Angel, the Prince’s sister? The one who shot him?”

  “I think we all know what really happened,” Xhi growled. The man opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. “Now, help the lady.”

  “How?”

  “Answer her questions.” Xhi pressed his point by running a finger along the blade’s edge.

  Angel had a chance to study the man as he wiped the sweat from his balding head. He was too old for a guard, although young enough. His crooked nose and beady eyes made him look like a bird. Is he a physician? She tried to place him, but could not remember seeing him in the past. Then again, she had spent most of Cyrus’s reign in jail.

  The man reached into his pocket and Xhi’s blade flashed next to the man’s neck. “No funny stuff.”

  The man took out a pair of glasses. He placed the precious item on his beak with shaking hands and squinted. “The Prince…” he squeaked, then cleared his throat and turned to Angel. “Your brother is fine. We keep him in an artificial coma. I’m his physician.”

  His chest swelled with pride at these last words. He looked at Angel as if waiting for her gratitude, but all she felt was anger. “So he’d be ruling now, if not for you?”

  The man’s face whitened. “No, you don’t understand! I… I saved his life. When they brought him, he was more dead than alive. I stopped the bleeding. He’s alive because of me.”

  “Then why the arti… artichoke coma?” Xhi rasped.

  The man blinked in confusion. “The…” He let out a nervous laugh, then removed his glasses and wiped them on his shirt. “It’s for his own good.”

  “Bollocks,” Xhi said.

  “Are you a doctor, sir?”

  “No, but I know a liar when I see one. I should gut you right now.”

  The man let out a yelp and shot a silent plea with his eyes at Angel.

  She shook her head. “He’ll do it unless you help us.”

  The man bobbed his head so much that his glasses slipped down his nose. “Anything!”

  “Can you bring him back?” she asked and placed a hand on his shoulder.

  He looked away for a moment, as if pondering the question. “Yes, but it’s dangerous. That’s why we haven’t done it yet.”

  “T
old you, I can spot a lie,” Xhi said and the man flushed.

  “Master Altman said I should keep him in a coma until he healed completely.”

  “Which he has,” Angel guessed.

  The man shook his head. “I… I think so. I don’t know. It’s only been a month. These machines… This procedure, it’s so new. We froze him, then the machine did the rest. No one knows much about it. Our ancestors could do wonders, but I basically read the manual and follow the procedures.”

  “So you don’t know what you’re doing half the time,” Xhi said and smiled. “Time to change that. Bring him back.”

  The man jolted under Angel’s hand. “It’s not as simple as that! It could damage his brain. He had sustained massive—”

  Is he telling the truth? Angel’s mind raced. She had to free Cyrus, but did not want to risk his life. Then again, this man had admitted that Altman had ordered him to keep her brother like that. If they left him there, his fate was sealed. Her stomach clenched at the thought of losing Cyrus, but she could see no other option. “Xhi, you can now kill our good physician,” she said and took a step back. “He can’t help.”

  “With pleasure,” Xhi said and raised his dagger.

  “No!” the man shrieked. “I can help you. I just need to consult the manual.”

  “You do that,” Xhi said and glanced at Angel.

  “Do it,” she agreed and bit her lip. This was the moment of truth. “If he lives, so do you.”

  She stepped back and tried to bide her time. She counted the red lights on the machine, then realized some of them had changed colour and started over. They changed again, and she gave up in frustration. She paced around the raised platform, first clockwise, then, when she felt queasy, counter-clockwise. Meanwhile, the physician studied an e-lib, mumbling to himself as he pushed vials into various machines and nooks. Every now and then he shot nervous glances at them.

  She tried to focus her attention on his actions, struggling to determine whether he was endangering her brother’s life. His actions meant little to her, so she focused on his face. Occasionally, little drops of sweat broke the taut worry lines on his skin, leaving glistening, slime-like lines behind them. He tapped a screen and pulled two sliders, then, after some thought, a third one. None of that meant anything; he could be killing Cyrus and she would never be the wiser.

  Bile burned the back of her throat and she inhaled deeply against it, fighting the urge to heave. All she wanted was to see Cyrus conscious, to talk to him, to hear him say her name. To finally have her brother back.

  “He should be coming out of it any minute now,” the man said, interrupting her agony after a while. A monitor blinked in an increasing tempo. She shot over to the bed and took Cyrus’s hand in hers.

  “He will need physiotherapy to—” the doctor started.

  “First he needs to make it outta here alive,” Xhi interrupted him.

  “Silence,” Angel ordered them. “He’s awake!”

  Her heart skipped a beat as Cyrus’s eyes fluttered open, a confused look on his face. She squeezed his hand and leaned towards him to press her ear to his lips, her tears soaking his scratchy chin. “Cyrus? Can you hear me?”

  He opened his mouth and tried to speak, but no words came out. His eyes betrayed his confusion, then he shut them and his face relaxed again.

  She spun around to face the physician, her hand still holding her brother’s. “What happened?” Tears welled up in her eyes.

  “It’s normal,” he hurried to assure her. “Dysarthria and confusion are to be expected at first. Anterograde and retrograde amnesia are also common in cases like his. He may only be conscious for a few minutes at first, but duration of time awake will gradually increase.”

  What? Angel stared at him in confusion and his face softened. “He won’t remember much at first,” he explained. “Also, he may have trouble speaking. And he’ll sleep a lot. But he’ll be fine. Just give him time.”

  “Time’s the one thing we don’t have.” She turned to Xhi. “We should leave.”

  “With him?” He sounded incredulous, but she could see he was already thinking of a plan.

  She wiped the tears from her eyes and stared lovingly at Cyrus’s face. “I’m not leaving him again,” she promised.

  “What about him?” Xhi asked, nodding towards the doctor. “Shall I kill him?”

  “What?” The physician turned to Angel. “You promised! You said—”

  Angel lifted her hand to stop him. “Tie him up and gag him. By the time they find him, we’ll be long gone.”

  Malekshei

  Moirah

  Moirah’s gaze ran up and down the contraption, ending up on Tie. “Are we ready?”

  Tie shot Moirah a dark look, then wiped sweat from her brow and muttered something under her breath as she shoved two more logs into a tin bucket. They had placed a dozen of these on a thick wicker flooring. The flames danced on their faces, sending ghostly shadows to chase each other on the courtyard.

  “Don’t we need a railing?” Moirah asked.

  “No time! It will be dawn soon,” Lehmor rasped, stealing a glance at the unguarded gate. Everyone had gathered around the fires, waiting for the signal.

  “We’re ready,” Valentiner said and emerged from the darkness, her father shadowing her. She nodded at Tie, who raised her hand.

  “Do it!” the priestess barked.

  Like a ship’s sail, a silk patchwork slid on ropes that slipped under pulleys to form a tent over the fires. The hot air pushed it upwards, the cloth flapping loudly in the night air.

  Lehmor and Tie scurried around, shouting orders. Rivka led a dozen First, who pushed wooden frames closer to the fires, allowing the cloth to rise into the air.

  A spark jumped from one of the buckets to land on a piece of cloth still on the ground. “Watch it!” Moirah yelled and stomped out the small fire.

  Lehmor ran to her. “Thanks!”

  “This plan is madness.”

  “It’s working,” he reassured her.

  She wanted to hug him and punch him at the same time. Part of her wanted him to comfort her, and part of her was mad at him for putting them through this. “We could have left with the rest,” she repeated for the hundredth time.

  He clenched his jaw, avoiding her eyes. “We’ll make it,” he promised.

  “Not if we burn down this… What did the weird girl call it?”

  “Balloon. We won’t.”

  “Shit,” Tie swore behind them. “The sun is coming up.”

  They spun around to see the first rays of the sun scale the faraway mountains.

  “It’s time,” Lehmor bellowed. Everyone hurried at the centre of the willow platform, even as Rivka and her crew tied ropes around its edges. The wood under their feet creaked and jolted. Moirah exchanged an uneasy look with her husband and clutched his hand, her other hand pushing their daughter against her pounding chest.

  She stumbled as the makeshift balloon groaned and twisted, then it lifted up in the air. Moirah’s eyes widened. “We did it,” she whispered. “We did it!” she repeated, this time louder, and a wild laugh escaped her lips. She kissed Lehmor with a passion borne out of relief, their baby cuddled between them.

  A thunderous bang made her look down. The clones had blown away the gate to flood the courtyard. They stared in disbelief at their prey lifting up in the sky. She laughed at the Fallen snapping their jaws at the air in fury. Pratin pushed through the crowd to stand in the middle of the courtyard as the last of his Fallen squeezed through the ruined gate to press behind him. He yelled something and pointed at them.

  Dozens of clones raised their arms at the balloon and fired. Red energy pulses crackled around them. Some pierced the cloth, leaving behind smouldering holes. The balloon jolted as if it had a hiccup, then started descending. Moirah glanced at the ashen faces around her. Valentiner hid her pale face in her father’s arms, trembling with fear.

  “We need more fire,” Tie shouted. “Quick, we must—”


  An explosion cut off her words, as one of the charges hit the platform, sending splinters to fly everywhere. First screamed as the shrapnel dug into their flesh. The wicker unspun. The ground disappeared from under Moirah’s legs. She tried to jump to the part of the floor that still held, but her foot crashed through the flooring. She lost her balance. She fell forward, still holding her baby tightly with one hand. Her other arm spun wildly, trying to find something to grab on to. Her legs dangled into the air as her body slid into the gaping hole.

  “No!” Lehmor’s strong arm caught her from the wrist. More hands followed. She groaned as they pulled her back up. Once she was back on the floor, she dropped on all fours, her knees too wobbly to support her. Lehmor kneeled beside her and held her in his arms. “I’m not losing you again,” he whispered in her ear.

  It’s your fault, she wanted to shout at him. She wished to punch him and hold him closer at the same time.

  The scare had only lasted a few seconds, but the clones were already preparing for a new volley. She glanced through the hole at their raised arms and pushed the baby into Lehmor’s arms. “Rivka!” Moirah shouted and pointed at the weapon hanging from a leather sheath on Rivka’s belt.

  The woman handed her Stripet’s rod. Lehmor had showed them all how to use it. Rivka grinned with understanding. “We’re too far,” she said. “But go for it.”

  Moirah raised her arm and the weapon came alive under her fingers. She squeezed it and a string of red spheres of light shot from its edge to fly towards Malekshei. Within seconds, they disappeared among the hundred crimson fireflies flying their way. Too little. Too little!

  Annoush

  I’m dying. He never expected to feel so calm. Having cheated death so many times, it had finally caught up with him. And yet, for the first time in his life, he felt no fear, only acceptance.

  He had crawled all the way to the window, to watch the Fallen break through the gates and roar in rage at their escaping prey. He lost his balance and his arm bumped against the wall, setting off an avalanche of uncontrollable shivers. He ground his teeth so hard that one cracked. He spat out a white sliver, the pain in his mouth so miniscule compared to the burning inside him that his foggy mind barely registered it. His head swam. Bile bubbled up from his stomach.