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

by Nicholas C. Rossis

Blood was bubbling up from a deep wound underneath. A pile of hay both kept the leg elevated and sucked the blood. The skin around the laceration looked scarred; a blast from an energy weapon must have caused the injury. Thankfully, it had missed the artery by less than an inch, or she would have bled out in seconds.

  Lehmor pressed his finger where the shaman had indicated and the flow slowed down to a trickle. He held his hand steady and examined the girl’s face. Mud formed clusters in her hair. Smudged streaks ran down her face. She had her eyes closed. Her breath came out shallow, exhausted.

  This could have been my daughter. The realization hit him hard, twinned with a feeling of immense responsibility. They are all my children. Was this how his father felt when he assumed leadership of their tribe? Lehmor’s shoulders slumped under the burden, like a rock had been placed on them. His breath quickened. He wiped a trickle of sweat from his brow. His stomach swam. He had to get out of there.

  Just as he was about to make up an excuse, the girl’s eyes fluttered. Her hazy eyes caught his gaze. They betrayed shock and pain but no fear.

  “How are you?” The words sounded empty as soon as they left his mouth, but he could think of nothing better to say.

  Instead of an answer, she clasped his hand with surprising strength. A grateful smile flickered on her lips. She kept staring at him for a long moment, then her eyes shut again and her head slumped on the hay.

  “Is she…” Lehmor bit his lip, unable to finish the sentence.

  “She’s sleeping. Look! The blood has stopped.” The shaman removed Lehmor’s hand from the girl’s thigh and flashed him a wide grin. “You did well.”

  Lehmor pushed a caked tendril of her hair from her face with tender fingers. The soft movement mirrored the care filling his heart. They are all my children now.

  The Capital

  Paul

  “Come,” the voice from behind the door said.

  Paul sidestepped the guard and entered Teo’s office. Despite the late hour, he found him still there, hovering over his desk. An e-lib was projecting a map of Pearseus onto the table, bathing it in a soft orange glow.

  A smile appeared on the Regent’s face. “Pretty soon, all of Pearseus will be mine.” His finger stabbed a pulsing circle. “Starting with Anthea.” His smile turned into a toothy grin. “I’ve ordered a giant slab of marble. I’ll take it with me when I take back what’s mine.”

  “You’ll carry a piece of marble to Anthea?” Paul cleared his throat to hide the surprise in his voice. “What for?”

  “I’ll have them build a statue of me,” Teo said, a faraway look in his eyes. “It will last a thousand years. Show everyone that Anthea’s mine.”

  That’s a new one. “That’s great,” Paul said, lacing his voice with fake enthusiasm.

  “But first we need to address another issue.” Teo waved toward a chair as he continued. “I’ve heard of a village that seems to have vanished through the years.”

  Paul sat down and straightened the creases on his trousers. “Vanished?”

  “I’ve been checking up on reports from the refugees.” Teo pinched and twisted the image until the map zoomed on a mountainous region to the north of the Capital. “A few mention a village somewhere around here, but there’s nothing on my maps.”

  Paul rubbed his chin. With everything that’s going on, you’re worried about the accuracy of your maps? “I can look into it, if you wish.” He squirmed on his seat, trying to read the man’s mood. Should I discuss the priest with him? What does he see in him, anyway?

  Teo snapped his gaze at Paul, as if reading his thoughts. “Is there something on your mind?”

  Paul drew in a sharp breath and held it for a moment before speaking. “As per our arrangement, I leave the war to you and you leave the day-to-day affairs to me.”

  “Correct.” Teo looked back at the map and flicked his fingers so that it showed Anthea again.

  “Would you care to explain that to Alexander?” Paul blurted out.

  Teo chuckled. “Is my priest giving you trouble?”

  “While in the North on his so-called fact-finding mission, he managed to upset everyone, from mayors to judges.” Paul’s fingers rapped against the table. “My men have enough on their plate without worrying about being labelled heretics. I mean, honestly, it’s like the Middle Ages out there.”

  “I don’t like the man any more than you do, Paul. Hell, he even killed the only woman I’ve ever cared about.”

  The indifferent way Teo blurted out those last words made Paul’s eyes bulge.

  “Still, I don’t get what you’re so riled up about,” Teo continued.

  “Teo, I’m your friend.” Paul leaned forward, trying to catch the man’s gaze. “What woman did Alexander kill?”

  Teo waved dismissively. “No one important. A traitor.”

  Paul said nothing for a long moment, waiting for Teo to continue. Instead, Teo started moving the map around in a hypnotic movement. “Fine, you don’t want to talk about it,” Paul said in the end. “I’m here if you ever need to talk. You know that, right?” He studied Teo’s eyes. They seemed glazed, void of emotion. What is it about this place that makes people lose it?

  “Of course.” The words sounded hollow, like uttered by a vacant soul.

  “Back to the cities in the North, then,” Paul said in a careful tone. Despite Teo’s eerie calmness, he could almost hear the ice cracking under his feet. “They’re facing major problems. You’ve seen the reports. Refugees are everywhere. We barely have enough food for everyone. Hunger turns people into criminals. It’s getting to the point where people are afraid to go out of their homes at night.”

  Teo’s gaze returned to the map on the table. “Sounds like you’re not doing your job.”

  Paul’s nails bit into his palms. “It sounds like everyone’s trying to put out a fire, then Alexander pours oil into it,” he said in as neutral a tone as he could manage.

  “How?” Teo asked with a smirk. “By reminding people of their duties to Themis?”

  It took Paul all he had to keep his voice calm. He ignored the blood thumping under his temples and shut his eyes for a moment before continuing in a slow tone. “By dividing people. There are enough fault lines as it is. Locals versus refuges, First versus Newcomers, North versus South. It’s a tinderbox. All I’m saying is, stop the man from lighting it up.”

  Teo guffawed. “First the fire is raging, now it’s not. You’re mixing your metaphors.”

  “I—” Paul paused, distracted by a black tendril of smoke that encircled Teo’s head. He blinked and it was gone. He rubbed his eyes. I must be more tired than I realize.

  Teo glanced at him. “You what?”

  A headache started to throb in Paul’s head. He pressed the base of his palms against his temples. “I’m just saying you should keep Alexander here for now. And you should forget about Anthea.” He regretted those last words as soon as they fled his mouth.

  Teo leaned in, his face suddenly a cold slab of marble. “Is that right?”

  Talk sense to a fool and he calls you foolish, a voice laughed in his head. Paul’s anger reached a boiling point. He refused to lean back. “That’s right.” He met Teo’s icy gaze. Screw this. I’m telling it as it is. “Teo, listen to me. I’m your older friend. I’ve known you since we were children. I know you. You overextend. You always have. You did it the first time you took over Anthea. You did it when you tried to assassinate Sol. And I understand why.”

  Teo leaned back and steepled his fingers. A disturbing smile crawled on his lips, one that failed to reach his eyes. “Is that right.”

  “Yes.” Paul’s voice became soft as a whisper. “I’ve seen how your father treated you. You can only hear you’re worthless so many times before you start believing it yourself. Then, when good things happen to you, you sabotage yourself. You trip yourself up. Not consciously, of course. But you do it every time.”

  “So, you’re my physician now.” Teo’s voice was cold enough to
send a chill up and down Paul’s spine.

  “I’m your friend. And I’m telling you. You rule over most of the planet. Leave it at that. Stay away from Anthea. Tighten Alexander’s leash. What do you think?” Paul held his breath.

  Teo stared at him for an endless moment with glazed eyes. “You’ve always thought yourself better than me, haven’t you?” he asked in the end, his face as expressionless as the statue he dreamed of.

  Paul blinked in confusion. “What?”

  “And yet, beating you was so easy. I made you betray everything you held dear, and you had no idea it was all for nothing. I didn’t even have your precious daughter.” Teo cackled a cruel, spiteful laugh. “And now you have the nerve to tell me what to do. How I feel.”

  Paul’s face burned. “You’re not listening to me.” His voice sounded hoarse to his ears.

  “Is that right?” Teo showed yellowed teeth in a malicious grin. “You know what? Let me worry about Anthea. As for that damned village, forget about it. Alexander will handle that. His way. I’ll have him leave right away.”

  “This is a mistake,” Paul snapped. “I’m telling you—”

  Teo banged his fist on the table. A goblet jumped and fell, spilling crimson wine. “No!” The wine flowed onto the projection of the map like blood covering the planet. “No one tells me anything. I’m the ruler here. Not you. Not Cyrus. Not anyone. And if you can’t remember that, perhaps I should send you to Alexander.” A brutal smile tugged at his lips. “After all, I’m starting to worry about your devotion to Themis.”

  The Marshes

  Seventeen

  Nearby screams alerted him to the killing of yet another one of his brethren. The link between them was severed so violently that he fought the urge to retch. He stumbled into a bush and pushed his stomach with the base of his palm, fighting the nausea. This was almost as bad as that dreadful day in Malekshei.

  He forced himself to push deeper inside the forest. A Fallen howled in enraged pain. Seventeen stumbled on a root and crashed to the ground. More blood now gushed from his wounds. He had no means of stemming the flow. Perhaps it was just as well. If they were doomed to failure, there was no point in his continued existence. He stumbled into a small clearing and crawled to a burned-out stump of a tree. The dead bark chaffed his naked back as he slumped down against it. He clutched his weapon. If he was going to die, it would be with honor. With a trembling hand, he pressed the weapon against his chin. His finger touched the trigger.

  A dark, soothing shadow draped over him. Not yet, child.

  His eyes flew open. A veil of darkness surrounded him.

  I have hidden you from them, the whisper continued.

  He jumped to his feet, startled, then crashed back to the ground. A muffled cry of pain escaped his lips.

  Have no fear.

  The voice was as soft as the rustling of leaves; so soft, he thought he might have imagined it. His gaze darted around him. “Who’s there?”

  Galloping horses approached. Riders. Two. He grabbed the stump to pull himself up but gave up in exhaustion.

  I’ll look after you, the whisper promised.

  A moment later, two horses burst into the clearing. One of the riders glanced in his direction and clutched his head with both hands. He let out a pained cry.

  “Cyrus? What’s wrong?” His companion brought his horse next to the man slumping on the saddle, and grabbed the reins.

  The one they called Cyrus groaned, seemingly unable to speak. His gaze darted around in the clearing, like trying to peer through the dark veil surrounding Seventeen.

  The other man clutched his weapon with his free hand, then lowered it. “I see nothing. Are you okay?”

  Cyrus nodded and made no protest as his companion guided them away from the clearing.

  Now, rise, the whisper commanded. Your destiny awaits you.

  Seventeen chuckled. “How?” he murmured. “I can barely stand.”

  The darkness concentrated into a lance that burst into his open wound and entered his body. Sudden rage filled him, as if a dam had broken. It melted the surrounding shadows with his soul. An inhuman howl escaped his lips. He fell forward, dropping on all fours. His whole body hummed in tune with the darkness inside him. Every cell, every fiber, every piece of their entwined bodies and souls vibrated together. They screamed in unison their rage and hatred until his throat bled. He crashed to the ground, panting.

  A newfound energy ran through his veins. He glanced at his ribs. Caked blood ran along the edges of his wounds, but the skin had merged together, leaving but a faint line behind. He traced the elevated, numb skin, feeling just a slight discomfort. The corners of his lips twitched upward.

  “What now?” he asked the darkness.

  An image filled his mind. A forgotten village. But he had to hurry.

  He rose on steady feet. He had never felt as alive, so strong. No trace of his previous exhaustion remained. He rolled his head left and right to ease any remaining tension in the back of his neck, then started the long march to the village in his mind. Soon, he entered a comfortable rhythm. At this rate, I’ll be there with time to spare.

  Anthea

  Gella

  “Is it true, then?”

  Gella spun around to see Satori approach her. “What?”

  “You’re leaving us.”

  “Yes.”

  Satori came so close to her that her lips almost touched Gella’s ear. “To Anthea?”

  Gella glanced at her sideways, saying nothing. A hint of a smile flickered on her lips.

  Satori took one step back. “I understand.” Her gaze danced around, as if to make sure no one could hear them.

  Gella’s gaze mimicked her. They were standing in the middle of the training grounds, with nothing but flat earth between them and the barracks. Even if anyone was hiding behind the columns, they would be too far away to hear them. Still, discussing a mission went against every instinct she had. “You know I can’t talk about it, right?”

  “I know. It’s just…” Satori bit her lip. “Will you see my father?” she whispered with a fast breath.

  Gella’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Why? I thought you hated him?”

  Satori raised her head and stared for a long moment at the birds flying in the sky. “I know. I’m so mad at him, it makes my blood boil.” Her eyes misted. “And yet, I miss him,” she murmured. “I want to punch him and kick him and scream at him.” She wiped her eyes with an angry motion. “Still, I miss him more than I thought possible.” She shut her eyes and drew a sharp breath. “ ‘Just wait till Jonia’s free.’ That was the unofficial motto in our house. Whenever the Justices screwed us up, he would say that. Whenever the Caretaker would impose another absurd law, my father would whisper the words in my ear and wink. ‘When will that day come?’ I asked him. ‘Soon,’ he promised. Only, it didn’t, did it? And it’s his fault.” She pressed her fists against her closed eyelids, as if to push the memories back inside her head. “I remember him every night coming to my room to tell me the story of our forefathers. How Walker founded Jonia before moving across the sea. How we had much more in common with the Democracies than with the Capital. What sort of a man Walker was. His dreams of a united Pearseus. His hopes of someday rebuilding our technology. Reclaiming our knowledge. Finding our way back to Earth. He was my hero, growing up.”

  “Who, Walker, or your father?” Gella asked, confused.

  Instead of an answer, a smile dripping with bitterness played on Satori’s lips.

  A pang of sadness shot through Gella’s heart. She had been torn away from her parents to train as a soldier. She always looked up to her father, but would she forgive him, had he been a traitor? Would she still love him? She placed a sympathetic hand on Satori’s shoulder. “If I were to meet him—and I’m not saying I will—would you like me to tell him anything?”

  Satori pressed the back of her palm against her eyes again for a moment. “That I hate him,” she said in a defiant voice. “And I
love him,” she added a moment later, her voice soft. She drew deep breaths. “Anyway, it’s all moot. You’re not meeting him, right?” She continued without waiting for an answer. “Still, I heard you’ll be away for a while, and I wanted to wish you luck.” She crossed her arms and stared at the faraway columns, as if studying them. “I remember when we first met, in the general’s tent in Ephia. ‘Another one of the Capital’s stooges,’ I thought to myself. Then, after Ephia’s fall, I blamed you for everything. When Sol told me I had to work with you, I could hardly believe it.” Her gaze snapped at Gella like she were just seeing her. “But you’re not what I expected. Whatever happens, I’ll miss you.”

  She shocked Gella by jumping in her arms and hugging her. After a moment, Gella’s hands patted the young woman’s back. “I’ll miss you too.”

  It took Satori almost a minute to release her. “Make sure to come back in one piece, will you?”

  Gella gave her a half-smile. “I’ll do my best.”

  February 28, The Marshes

  Cyrus

  Cyrus had been looking all over the village for Lehmor. He had formulated a plan during the night, but they needed to act fast. With Teo gathering troops in Jonia, the Capital was relatively undefended. The borders were porous due to the influx of refugees. Any troops guarding them were bound to be overstretched and exhausted. Now would be a great time for the First to attack. With their help, Cyrus would be reinstated and the usurper punished the way he deserved.

  He started whistling to himself. He felt better than he had in a long time. Invincible. With the Iotas and the clones finally obliterated, nothing stood in the way of his throne. Not a throne, his father’s voice said in his head. Cyrus chuckled. Why deny it? It was a throne. And one that was rightfully his.

  He spotted Lehmor exiting the large tent serving as infirmary and rushed to his side. “Lehmor!” The man slowed down, waiting for him to approach. His eyes looked heavy and dark with exhaustion. Dull brown smudges covered his once white clothes. “Have you had any sleep since the attack?” Cyrus asked.