David squinted to see through the downpour. His heart raced with fear. The soaked boards under his feet seesawed wildly. Give me an enemy I can fight. Just don’t let me drown. He tried to push away dark thoughts from his mind. The attack had proved that Gella was right. If the clones were roaming the North, that could only mean that Malekshei had fallen. He swallowed his guilt and wrapped the woollen coat around him, pushing the hood farther over his head to avoid the thick drops splashing on his face.
With Malekshei fallen, our best chance is to make the trip to the Old Woman as fast as possible. Engaging the enemy may well be the biggest mistake we make. Having already fought a clone twice, he had little faith in the Antheans’ ability to survive. The horses were their only chance. They had to outrun their enemy. But would Pratin let them escape, even if they did manage to elude the Capital’s soldiers?
A deafening clatter sounded from below, as the ship dropped its anchor. The captain approached him. “This is as close as we can get,” he shouted to be heard over the storm. “We’ll lower barges to take you ashore.”
“And the horses?”
“It won’t be easy. Hell, it’ll probably take all day. But it’s the best we can do.”
David shook his head. They could not reach a port, for fear of being seen. Stealth was their only chance, but even that had probably been compromised. Or had the clones who had attacked them been stragglers, unable to notify others of the Antheans’ presence?
The captain fixed his gaze on David. “Sorry I lost my temper back then.”
“It’s okay. You love your ship.”
The captain looked at the broken mast. “Every captain worth his salt loves his ship. And those bastards put a hole in it, larger than my mother-in-law’s arse.”
“Pity she wasn’t with us. We could have plugged the hole with her.”
The captain chortled with laughter and slapped David in the back, so hard that he stumbled forward. “You’re all right, kid. Are you coming back?”
“I doubt it. But the rest of them are. Will you wait here?”
“And risk another attack?” The captain snorted. “No, I’ve learnt my lesson. As soon as we fix the damages, I’ll take the ships to the open. When your lads return, they can signal me and I’ll come fetch them.” A sailor shouted something that David did not catch. The captain raised a hand to acknowledge the man before turning his attention back to David. “Come, it’s time for you to leave us. And if you catch any of those devils, send them back to whatever hellhole they climbed out of.”
“Deal,” David said and hurried after him.
The rain had finally been reduced to a light drizzle by the time he jumped with relief out of the crammed barge to land on the rocky beach. In the east, the clouds had already broken to allow the predawn light to paint them a blood red. Pebbles crunched under David’s feet, his boots sinking into the soaked ground. He took a few grateful steps as a second barge crashed into the shore, half a dozen more following. He dropped his satchel to the ground and turned back to help the soldiers carry their provisions out.
An explosion lifted the newly landed barge into the air. It flew into the sharp rocks jutting out of the water at the edge of the small cove. “Take cover!” someone yelled. People jumped into the water and ducked behind large boulders.
David jumped behind his barge on the shore. He shot a glance at the surrounding area. The light from the explosions illuminated a cliff overlooking the cove. A narrow path led to its top, from where a stream of men and beasts descended towards them. Fallen! The clones accompanying them shot blasts at the trapped men and women. One of them caught another barge, now emptied of its human cargo, and blew it out of the water.
David lifted his arm. The Sheimlek-dar locked in place, ready to fire. He jutted his head out of the barge’s side and fired a concentrated volley at the approaching enemy. The middle of the path disappeared under their feet. Screaming Fallen and clones whisked up into the air like wisps of straw. David lunged behind a rock just as an explosion turned his barge into splinters. One of them, a few inches long, bit into his leg. He cried out in pain. Grinding his teeth, he shot another volley, then limped away before waiting to see the results. Inhuman screams told him his shot had found its aim. He took a peek. The path was littered with the scattered remains of clones and Fallen. Dozens more jumped over them to continue their descent into the cove, ignoring the arrows the helpless soldiers fired at them.
David shot another volley, but his hands shook from the adrenaline. The blast rained debris on the charging stream of Fallen and clones. He limped behind a towering boulder. He found four men there, led by Thomas.
“What the hell are those things?” the man screamed at him.
“All you need to know is they can be killed,” David shouted back. “Just keep me covered.”
His leg felt numb. He looked at the piece of wood jutting out. Should I just pull it out? No, it probably plugs the wound and stops the blood. Grimacing in pain, he slithered on the ground to the other side of the boulder. The large splinter in his flesh bit with every movement, sending shivers of pain up and down his spine. He took a peek from behind his hiding place. A dozen surviving clones blasted their way down the path, a score of Fallen at their tail. Soon, they would reach the foot of the hill. With just a single Sheimlek-dar at their disposal, the soldiers had little chance of survival.
As David prepared to shoot another volley, an explosion beside him sent two soldiers flying through the air, their screams echoing in the early morning. Swearing, he took another peek. A rock formation at the top of the cliff, right over the path, caught his eye. Without thinking, he aimed his bracelet and fired repeatedly, blowing up the ground under the rocks. He continued to fire. Boulders, many larger than their barges, came loose. They rolled down the path, towards the advancing enemy. Clones and Fallen screamed as rocks crushed bones and tore up flesh. Their broken bodies smashed on the sharp rocks at the hill’s foot.
“Charge!” David cried out and jumped up. He bit his lip to stop from screaming at the pain shooting up from his leg. “Charge!” The danger was far from over; if the clones had a chance to regroup, the soldiers would still be no match for them.
He waved Thomas to attack. The Major and his men, swords in hand, hurried towards the writhing bodies, trapped under boulders and dust. A lone clone used his rod to blast his way from under the debris, before turning it against the charging Antheans. Screams filled the air. David fired one last shot. It blew away the clone’s head, leaving behind nothing but a smouldering corpse. The Antheans reached the foot of the path and hacked at the screaming beasts and men. David tried to reach them, when something tore in his leg and blinding pain shot up his body. He let out a cry and sank on his knees. His hands clasped against his leg, blood flowing now freely between his fingers.
The Marshes
Moirah
“I’m sorry,” Cyrus said.
Moirah dried her eyes to glare at him. “Will you please just shut up?” she exploded. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself! Start acting like a man!”
Cyrus gaped at her. “I almost killed your husband. David. You. I think you deserve an apology.”
“And now you’re apologizing to everyone and everything. Just…” She turned her head away. “Just stop it. When I first met you, you were little more than a scared child. But you’re not that child anymore. You grew into a man. A warrior. Now is the time to start acting like it again.”
His mouth twitched. “Thanks, I will.” He swung his feet off the bed and took an unsteady step towards her. Various tubes extended to follow his movement.
She chuckled at the sight. “You look like a puppet.”
He followed her eyes and his lips curled upwards. “For the first time, I don’t think I am.”
“Fine,” she sighed. “Apology accepted.”
He clutched her bedpost to steady himself. “Will you also forgive Lehmor?”
“What do you know of it?” she snapped at him.
A bitter smile played on her lips. “Loves me? He almost killed me.”
“No, he didn’t. That was the Fallen and those… clons?”
“Clones.”
“Them.” Cyrus let out a sigh. “Listen, I may not know all the details, but I know Lehmor. He’d never do something to put you in danger, if he could help it. Or your daughter.”
She caught the unspoken question behind the last word. “She’s Lehmor’s.”
“No, I know,” he said. “I know,” he repeated after a moment. Yet, his eyes searched hers for confirmation.
She looked away, annoyed. How do you know? she asked herself, not for the first time. Does wishing for something make it so? She scolded herself, her fingers drumming the mattress. No, a woman knows these things. She had played out the same dialogue in her head a thousand times. Every time, she reached the same conclusion. My daughter is Lehmor’s. Has to be. Her mind drifted to her husband and their last encounter.
“So, you think I should forgive him?” she asked to break the awkward silence.
“Yes.” He sat himself next to her. She scooted over to make him space. “He’s a good man, and he needs you.”
She threw him a half-smile. “You’re a good man, too. Despite everything.”
He smiled a bitter smile and opened his mouth to speak, when the healer burst into the room, followed by another First. Her gaze fell on Cyrus. “Good, you’re up. We need your bed.” She turned her attention to her assistant. “Nellie, we need one more bed. I’ll make sure Cyrus is fine, then you take him out.”
“What’s wrong?” Moirah asked, her insides tightening with fear.
“We’ve got wounded,” the healer said, avoiding her gaze.
“Lehmor?” Cyrus asked.
“And Kiwi,” the First called Nellie said. The agony on her face matched that of Moirah.
The healer motioned Cyrus back to his bed. As soon as he sat down, she started to remove the tubes feeding fluids to his body. “You’ll be fine. Come back tomorrow and I’ll check up on you, okay?” She patted his back and Nellie took him by the hand to lead him outside.
“I’ll get you some clothes,” she said as they left the room.
“What happened?” Moirah asked with a trembling voice.
“We don’t know yet.” The healer lifted the bed covers and threw them in an opening that appeared on the wall behind the bed. Letters and symbols appeared above it. The healer tapped one of them and stepped back. A bright light shone on the bed from the ceiling, travelling back and forth. “I’ll know more when I examine him.”
A group of First burst into the room, led by Rivka. They were carrying two stretchers. Nellie was whispering to the man lying on the first one, but it was the second one that Moirah ran towards. Lehmor lay on his back, eyes closed, his face white as fresh snow.
“Lehmor!” She tried to take him into her arms, but Rivka dragged her away. “Let me see him!” Moirah screamed, twisting her body to free herself.
“Let the healer see him first,” the woman insisted.
Moirah raised her hands in surrender and Rivka let her go, her hands still ready to jump up to hold her away. Moirah craned her neck while stepping back to give them the space they needed. They laid Lehmor upon Cyrus’s bed. The bright light traversed the immobile body, then disappeared back into the ceiling. Thoughts rushed through Moirah’s head. Her throat felt dry, scratchy. What if he died? Was their last time together doomed to be a screaming match? Her last words, ones of contempt? She bit her lip as a second body, made of orange light, flickered over Lehmor’s bed. The healer prodded it, pushing her fingers into the image and rotating it to ascertain the damage. Another First pulled various tubes from the wall, inserting them one after another into Lehmor’s arms.
Is his face more red now? Moirah tried to remember how pale he had been and compare it to his current colour. The healer’s furrowed brow failed to give anything away. Moirah sat on her bed and leaned forward, ready to rush to her husband. Her heart pounded in her chest. Is the healer’s sigh one of relief? Has her brow unknitted a little? She fought the urge to approach them. Lehmor has saved my life so many times. Given me a daughter. And I have pushed him away.
Dark thoughts crossed her mind. Self-pity and anger chased each other in her soul, followed by despair at the thought of losing him, of never telling him how much he meant to her. Seconds trickled into minutes. She grabbed the rim of her gown and twisted it in her hands to stop from screaming and sobbing and crying out her frustration. What if he died? What if he was already dead? She strained her eyes to watch his chest; was it moving? Was he breathing? Rivka and the healer were obstructing her view. Moirah ground her teeth.
The healer moved to the opposite side. Moirah was about to jump up, when the healer raised her eyes and met Moirah’s. The woman smiled and nodded reassuringly, then left Lehmor to repeat the procedure with the other injured First. Moirah let out a loud sigh of relief and jumped over to Lehmor as Rivka moved away.
Moirah took Lehmor’s hand between her trembling fingers while Nellie hovered over the second injured man. Her slender face was ashen, her features drawn. He means to her as much as Lehmor means to me. She held the man’s hand in hers and was whispering something to him. For a split second, Moirah scolded herself for her selfishness. Her life would not be the same without Lehmor, though. Despair flashed in her soul again. Would her daughter have to grow up without a father?
Please, please, Lady, don’t take him from me. Don’t let him die. Tears flowed from her eyes. They splashed on Lehmor’s face. He cracked open his eyes and blinked. “Moirah?”
She brought a hand to her mouth to drown a cry of relief. “Shh…” She wiped the tears from his cheek. “Everything’s fine. You’ll be all right.”
Chamber of Justice, The Capital
Teo
A rustling sound startled Teo from an uneasy sleep. The silver light of the moons silhouetted a man, sitting still on the chair across his bed. “Pratin?”
The man nodded. “Good to see you’re resting, my friend.”
Teo rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “We have to stop meeting like this,” he croaked and filled a glass on the nightstand with sweet Jovian wine from a silver jug. He took a sip and swirled the liquid in his mouth.
“I just came to thank you,” the statue of a man said. “My friend is safe.”
“Glad to help,” Teo said. “How about your end of the bargain?”
“Cyrus?” Pratin shook his head. “He’s hiding with the Old Woman for now. As soon as he steps his foot out of there, he’s as good as dead.”
“So… nothing?” Teo did not attempt to hide his irritation.
Pratin leaned forward. “There’s been another development. A group of Antheans landed in the North. They’re led by David.”
He didn’t answer my question. Is he ignoring me? “Who?” Irritated, Teo sat up on his bed. “The boy that killed Parad? So what?”
“Perhaps he’s come to help Cyrus?”
“Why? The guy wants him dead.” Teo clicked his tongue and took another sip. The sweet wine helped clear his head. This doesn’t make any sense. What am I missing here? He could not shake the feeling Pratin was using him. Towards what aim, he still knew not – and it was starting to annoy him.
“Whatever his reasons, it may be a good idea if they’re stopped.” Pratin leaned back again and slipped his hands into the wide sleeves of his robe. “Or, better yet, captured.”
What’s in it for you? Even more importantly, what’s in it for me? Teo considered the best way to gain from such an event. David was the most wanted man in the Capital. Everyone hated him for the murder of the most popular general the Capital had seen in a generation. His death would do wonders
for Teo’s popularity. A public execution would be even more welcome. He could milk it even further, by pointing out that he had succeeded where Cyrus – the dead general’s son, no less – had failed. This might legitimize him further. “What more can you tell me?”
“They’ll be heading to the Old Woman.”
Teo found unnerving the way Pratin’s eyes studied him, as if he could read his thoughts. “How do you… Never mind. That’s where we’ll capture him, then. How many Antheans?”
“Less than a hundred. Some friends saw to that.”
Teo did not want to know who those friends were. All the same, he wondered if he might regret not asking. “What friends?”
Pratin flashed him a manic grin. “My children.”
This left Teo even more confused, and he rubbed his eyes. “How many…”
His words echoed in the empty room. He hopped out of bed and pressed his hand against the chair’s cool leather. Dammit! I hate it when he does that.
He draped his body with a robe and stormed out of the room. A Guardian stifled a yawn and snapped to attention as Teo faced him. “Fetch Alexander to my office.”
“The Head Priest?” the surprised man asked. “But it’s—”
Teo shot him a warning glance and the man swallowed the rest of his phrase. “Right away, sir.” He ran off, as if the dead had risen to chase him.
Teo stepped back into his room to exchange his robe for the day’s clothes. He splashed some water on his face and placed the crystal on his neck, ready to record his judgment. He did not switch it on. Some things were better left unrecorded.
Opening the door, he found another Guardian waiting for him. This one seemed more alert as he followed him down the corridor. “Will you need anything, sir?” he asked as Teo opened the door to his office.
Pearseus Bundle: The Complete Pearseus Sci-fi/Fantasy Series Page 79