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

by Nicholas C. Rossis

  He cringed, joy mixed with dread. He had no idea blindness was a possibility. What else might go wrong?

  The woman now fixed her attention on Cyrus. She repeated the procedure, only this time she focused her attention on the space under the round scar on Cyrus’s head. She traced it from the inside, nodding every now and then and murmuring commands that rotated and zoomed the view in and out. Once she had finished, she flashed Lehmor another grin. “Your friend will also be fine.”

  “He’s not my friend,” Lehmor blurted out, but the woman ignored him and left the room.

  Lehmor walked next to Cyrus’s bed and stood next to it. He had avoided even looking at him. Had it not been for the boy’s stupidity, none of this would have happened. Cyrus mumbled something, and his eyes fluttered open. Lehmor jumped back and hurried towards Moirah.

  “Lehmor,” Cyrus rasped.

  Lehmor froze in his tracks. “Cyrus.”

  Cyrus cleared his throat. “Can I have some water?”

  Scooting over to the table, Lehmor touched a surface and a delicate glass shot up from an opening. He knew that, despite its fragile appearance, it was impossible to break. When he had first seen Moirah, rage had filled him. At her condition, at Pratin, at the Old Woman. More than anyone, at himself. He had hurled a glass at the wall in impotent rage, but it had bounced safely back, spilling the water on to the floor, where it had disappeared within seconds.

  Lehmor brought the glass to Cyrus, who took one sip, then another, before handing it back. “Thank you.”

  Lehmor turned to leave without a word. “Please don’t go,” Cyrus said, his voice slightly slurred. “I need…” The Prince closed his eyes and his head sank back to the bed. “I’m sorry. For everything.”

  Lehmor approached the bed once again, to stare at Cyrus’s face. He looked at least ten years older than Lehmor, his face gaunt and tired, his eyes black circles on pasty skin. “What happened?”

  “They had me from the start. But it’s not their fault. It’s mine. Everything happened too fast. My dad, Angel…” He shot a pained glance at Lehmor. “Moirah… How is she?”

  “She’ll live.” A pang of jealousy shot through Lehmor’s heart.

  “I never meant for any of this to happen.” Tears streaked down his cheeks, and Lehmor shifted his weight first on one leg, then another. Cyrus lifted his bloodshot eyes. “You have to believe me. I always respected you.”

  Lehmor fought the insult that came to his mouth. His heart was still angry at the boy, but perhaps Cyrus had finally seen some sense.

  “Is David with you?” Cyrus continued. “I need to talk to him. Or Annoush?”

  Lehmor pursed his lips. Was it safe to tell him? He had never been one for beating around the bush, though. “Annoush is dead. Killed at Malekshei. David is abroad, seeking help.”

  Cyrus brought his fist to his mouth to drown a howl. A machine beeped next to him, lights flashing on the wall, while he drew in sharp breaths until he could speak again. “It’s my fault.”

  “Yes.” There was no sense in lying.

  “What happened at Malekshei?”

  “They killed my father.” Saying the words out loud brought some of the pain back, and Lehmor clenched his fists. This time, Cyrus sobbed. “We destroyed Malekshei. Killed most of them.”

  Cyrus shook his head. “Fallen?”

  “And clones. Pratin’s men.”

  Cyrus did not try to hide his confusion. “Who?”

  “Pratin…” Lehmor realised he had to tell the story from the beginning. He started at their fateful meeting in the woods outside the Capital. Cyrus turned his face away at the memory, then faced Lehmor again when he explained about the Iotas, Stripet and Pratin. When he described the fall of Malekshei, the lights on the wall were flashing rapidly and the First woman hurried into the room.

  “What have you been telling him?” she asked Lehmor accusingly as she fidgeted with the panel on the wall.

  “It’s okay, healer, I need to know,” Cyrus said. What little colour his cheeks had had before, had now left.

  “No more talking,” the healer ordered. She shook her head and left the room, murmuring.

  “Where were we?” Cyrus asked and plonked his head back on the pillow.

  “The healer—” Lehmor started.

  “I must know.” Cyrus stared at him. Their gaze locked, until Lehmor relented.

  “Fine. Malekshei.” Lehmor explained their narrow escape from Pratin and the fire, describing the role played by Sam and Valentiner.

  “Thank you,” Cyrus whispered when Lehmor finished. He closed his eyes, and the lights slowed down at first, then faded.

  Lost for words, Lehmor slumbered back to Moirah. The chair reappeared out of the wall and he sat down, his chin resting on his hands. He was still angry at Cyrus, but somehow, his heart felt lighter than it had in ages. His gaze fixed on Moirah’s calm face. The swelling had all but disappeared, and she looked peaceful, as if sleeping. Soon, she would wake up. And the Old Woman would remove the shackles preventing him from taking his revenge on Stripet and Pratin. Then, he would finally be complete. He stroked the rod strapped against his thigh in eager anticipation.

  Part three

  “I am only one, but I am still one. I cannot do everything, but still I can do something; and just because I cannot do everything, I will not refuse to do the something that I can do.”

  Helen Keller

  November 307

  The Marshes

  Angel

  She took Sam’s hand and led him into her tent. With Tie and the First looking after the twins, she and Sam spent every day together, talking about their past, catching up and getting to know each other. The only topic they never talked about was the future. In a world where nothing made sense anymore, the only thing that mattered was the present.

  She kissed his hand as they lay down on a mattress made by a strange, foamy material, provided to them by the Old Woman. “Remember the story you’d told me?”

  “Which one?” He seemed distracted, his hand disappearing under the mattress.

  “The one with the mad water.”

  He pulled out a stone, a triumphant look on his face, and threw it out of the tent. “Sure.”

  “Where do you think we are, in the story?”

  He let out a small sigh. “Everyone’s gone mad by now?”

  “I sure have.” She chuckled at his questioning look. “I’m crazy for you.”

  He laughed at that and his lips melted into hers. She took his hand and placed it on her breast. He pulled it away, as if scalded. She broke the kiss for a second. “Do it,” she rasped, then her lips met his again. After a moment’s indecision, he slipped his hand under the gossamer blouse given to her by the Old Woman, to find her sensitive breast. He squeezed lightly as he pushed her to the mattress, their lips never separating. She entwined him between her legs and pushed him closer, her hands fumbling with his belt.

  He pushed her away and stood up. With a few swift motions, he tore off his clothes. Her gaze trailed his strong body. She placed a burning hand on his hard chest. He pushed it away and nodded at her clothes. Within seconds, they both lay naked, their bodies once again entwined.

  They lost themselves in feverish exploration of each other’s bodies When they finally lay exhausted, their flesh tickling with goose bumps of pleasure, it was dark outside.

  “Wow,” she said, breathless.

  “Wow,” he agreed. He wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead and suckled his finger, drinking her in.

  “Sam,” she said. He turned to face her and their eyes locked. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.” He kissed her, softly, then with more urgency.

  “I don’t think I can just yet,” she chuckled, pushing him away.

  He groaned in disappointment, then laughed. “Probably just as well. I could die a happy man in your arms.”

  She cuddled in his embrace, listening to the rhythm of his beating heart. It slowed down to a more normal
rate as his excitement subsided. “Please don’t leave me,” she said after a while. She had no idea where that had come from, or if he had much say in the matter. He was a soldier, sworn to protect Tie. Or was he free? She had no idea. All of a sudden, the future had become that much harder to ignore.

  Instead of an answer, she heard his light snore. It was a while before she, too, drifted into a dreamless sleep.

  Lehmor

  The Old Woman shook him awake. “Lehmor! Wake up.”

  His eyes fluttered. A soft ambient light came from the bare walls and the white ceiling. Where am I? He felt rested, rejuvenated, any fear about Moirah, Stripet or the Iotas gone. The Old Woman had taken him to lie on the softest bed. He remembered coloured lights, then… nothing. The small room, deep inside the hill’s bowels, lay empty, save for the Old Woman hovering over him.

  “Do you feel any different?”

  He stared at her, pondering the question. What was he supposed to feel like? She had put him under in order to remove the mental block that prevented him from fighting Stripet and Pratin. How could he know if she had succeeded, unless he actually dug a knife into the Bear’s guts?

  He cringed, expecting the pang of pain that shot through his head whenever he thought of what he would like to do to Stripet, but nothing came. He then thought of punching him; striking him with his fist and elbow until Stripet’s face was nothing but a bloodied mass. Again, nothing.

  “Yes.” He grinned and stretched, feeling more relaxed than he had in ages. “Did I miss anything?”

  “Xhi’s wife showed up.”

  Lehmor scratched his chin. How’s that important? “Where was she?”

  “She was following Cyrus, then they were attacked and got separated. They haven’t given me all the details. It seems like she tried to run away and got lost. A group of First found her wandering in the woods and brought her here.”

  “How did she survive so long?”

  “She claims she found an abandoned hut near a creek. She ate fish caught from the river, until she had enough and tried to return to the Capital.” The Old Woman pressed her lips into a thin line.

  “You don’t trust her.”

  “No. She’s lying, but I can’t penetrate her mind.”

  Lehmor frowned. Was she able to read everyone’s thoughts? “Is this rare?”

  “Very. Usually, I can read people, but something blocks me with her.” She paused. “And you.”

  “You think Pratin…” What would Pratin want with a woman from the Capital?

  “I don’t see how. Still… ” She shook her head. “Well, she’s not your worry. You need to prepare for your mission. Perhaps training with Abaddon for a few days will help.”

  “Good idea.” Lehmor felt the reassuring weight of the rod on his thigh and patted it.

  She noticed his movement. “Wouldn’t you rather have a Sheimlek?”

  “This is Sheimlek and Sheimlek-dar in one.” He grinned. “And a shield.”

  “I hope you don’t forget whose side you’re on,” she murmured, looking uncomfortable.

  Mine. He worried for a moment that she had read the unbidden thought, then shrugged the fear off. In his mind, she was no longer his god. She was his equal.

  North Sea

  David

  The journey had been uneventful so far, if a bit rough. The November seas proved tricky. They had stayed close to the shore, to avoid the worst of it. Even so, David could barely keep his food down. He now lay on his hammock, trying to relax, when a soft knock on the door interrupted his soft moans.

  “Come,” he murmured. Nothing happened. “Come!” he repeated, this time louder.

  Thomas pushed the door and showed his head. “David. The captain’s been asking about our destination. How about you enlighten him?”

  “I’ll be right there,” David said. With a groan, he swung off the hammock and let his legs hang. He jumped to the creaking floor and held on to the wall until the dizzy spell passed.

  Thomas led him through a narrow corridor, the ceiling so low that David bumped his head on the frame of a door. He was still cursing under his breath when they reached a door with a sailor standing guard outside. The man knocked twice, then showed them in.

  The captain’s office was a slightly larger version of their cabins. It contained a single desk with two forlorn chairs before it. They looked like they had seen better days, the salty air having roughened their surface.

  “Tea,” the captain ordered, then shot a questioning look at his guests, waiting for the reply to his implicit question.

  “Tea for me, too,” Thomas said as he carefully sat down on one of the chairs. He let his weight sink in slowly, as if afraid that the creaking wood would disappear from under him.

  “Tea would be great,” David agreed as he lowered himself on the other chair with equal care. The chair sank an inch under his weight, but held fast.

  The ordinance disappeared, closing the door behind him.

  “Now, gentlemen, let me officially welcome you to my ship. I believe it’s time you told me of our destination?” David’s eyebrow shot up in question. He had assumed the captain had been informed of that; how else had he made provisions? Misreading his confusion, the man leaned forward, steepling his hands. “I understand the need for secrecy, but surely you can’t wait until we’re already there to tell me?”

  “What do you know, Captain?” Thomas asked him.

  “Only that I am to carry you gentlemen and your men to wherever you tell me. Oh, and that my holds are filled up with Themis knows what.”

  “You got a map?” David asked.

  The captain fished out a frayed map from one of the drawers. He unfolded it on the table, using a statuette of an owl and a letter opener to keep it open.

  David pointed at the Old Woman’s hill. “This is my destination.”

  “A bit farther inland than I had in mind,” the captain mumbled.

  “That’s where we come in,” Thomas said. “All you do is land us as close by as possible without being noticed. Can you do that?”

  The captain looked offended. “My boy, I can land you on a pin’s head if that’s what you need. The only question is where that pin is.”

  “How about here?” David asked, pointing at Georgetown. He remembered the village well.

  Thomas shook his head. “Too close to the Capital, and on the wrong side of the river. We need to go farther north and travel south-east.” He pointed at the river that led to Malekshei. “I suggest we land on whatever bay we can find after we pass this point. We can ride the rest of the way.”

  “No,” David blurted out. Both men shot him a surprised look. How can I warn them of the Fallen? They’ll think me crazy. “We need to travel as little as possible on land. Anyone spotting us will alert Altman to our presence.”

  “Altman.” The captain spat out the name. “I knew I should have let him drown when I had the chance.”

  David’s eyes opened wide. “You know Altman?”

  “I had the misfortune of carrying that sorry son of a bitch to Cypress Island.” A knock interrupted the captain. He folded up the map and placed it back into the drawer. “Enter.”

  The ordinance opened carefully the door with one hand, holding a tray with three steaming cups with the other. He placed the tray and handed them each a cup, starting with the captain. “Will that be all, sir?”

  “Yes, thank you,” the captain said, waving him out.

  “I wish we had something stronger,” Thomas said as the door closed softly behind him. “For a toast, you understand.”

  The captain’s lips parted in a grin. “Maybe we do.” He produced a bottle filled with an amber liquid and filled their cups to the brim, until it was more liquor than tea. He raised his mug to a toast. “To Altman. May his days be numbered.”

  David could not help but chuckle as he took a sip. He puffed as he burned his tongue, then blew at the hot beverage. “There is another thing, Major. We don’t want to look like an invading a
rmy to the locals.”

  Thomas frowned. “We’re a hundred uniformed men and women on horses. How about we take the back roads you First use?”

  David smiled at the insinuation. “I’m not a First. I was born and bred in the Capital.”

  The revelation startled Thomas. “Sorry, I assumed—”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll take you down roads no Newcomer knows.”

  “Newcomer?”

  David smiled and took another sip. “That’s us. However, you may want to lose the uniforms. Or at least the insignia.”

  Thomas pinched the bridge of his nose. “I wish you had told us sooner. We could have dressed up like civilians, but now all we have is the uniforms.”

  “It will have to do,” David said.

  “What about the weapons?” the captain asked.

  “Most people carry them around nowadays,” David assured him. “And since half of your team are women, we could pull it off.”

  Thomas pointed at David. “You’ll just keep the furs?”

  David scratched his beard. “I will. But I’m thinking of shaving. Fewer chances of someone recognizing me that way. And I’ll look less like a First that way.”

  “Not many shaven First around,” Thomas agreed.

  The captain shot David a questioning look. “Recognize you?”

  “Long story.” David slapped his thighs and stood up, feeling better for the tea. Even his stomach had settled somewhat. “Do you need my help with anything?”

  Thomas shook his head. “I’ll talk to my men, have them convert their uniforms to something resembling civilian clothes.”

  “Got any scissors?” David asked. The captain rummaged through a drawer before fishing out a pair.

  “Thanks. I’ll be in my cabin.” David took the scissors and nodded towards the two men before squeezing behind the chair and through the narrow door.