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

by Nicholas C. Rossis

  “I shall destroy you, you hear me?” he shouted at no one in particular, nursing his injured knees. “No one but Themis shall be worshipped on Pearseus.”

  When no answer came, he crashed on a pew. It slid backward with a loud squeak that echoed in the quiet room. Sebastian’s words echoed in his head. Why not just slaughter them? If Sebastian, too, is Her servant, could that be her will? He clutched his medallion. “Show me your will, oh Themis,” he whispered in reverence. “Is Sebastian right? Should we show mercy?”

  Red-hued light filled the empty room. A translucent woman’s form materialized before him. Long red hair cascaded around slender shoulders. She beamed crimson light. A gossamer blindfold covered her eyes. Behind it, he could make out eyes amber and aflame, like angry, burning coals. She wore a long red dress and held the scales of justice in one hand and a sword in another.

  Alexander’s eyes widened. His hairs stood on end. His body slipped off the pew and onto the hard floor. He lowered his head, not daring to look at Her. His whole body tingled, every cell, nerve and muscle.

  Her soft voice, like leaves rustling in the wind, spoke to him. “What doubts are filling your heart, my child?”

  “Themis,” he whispered. “Forgive me, my Lady. I meant no disrespect.” He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry, his voice coarse. “I was thinking of the crosses. Should we just kill them, like Sebastian said?”

  The red stone under his fingers burned like hellfire. Letting out a surprised yelp, he jerked his hand away from the medallion.

  “Does his word carry more weight than mine?” the voice asked.

  He broke into a cold sweat that tingled his back, only too aware of the veiled threat carried by Her question. “No, no,” he stammered. “Never. But, what about compassion? Can they not be saved?”

  “They’ve had their chance. Now it’s time for the sinners to pay for their sins. Wipe out this affront to me. Make an example of them.” The voice paused for a moment. “Or would you displease me?” she added, sweet as honey.

  He almost jumped to his feet. “No, of course not. I shall see to it that no one here forgets your word ever again.”

  Silence met his words.

  “My Lady?” he whispered after a while. He did not dare raise his eyes for a few more minutes. The red light had disappeared and his amulet was as cold as the drifting snow. Trembling, he stood on quaking knees and slumped heavily on the pew.

  When his breath stopped coming out in short bursts, he jumped to his feet and barreled out the door, ignoring the stunned guard.

  Once in the courtyard, he spotted a group of priests clumsily assembling a cross. “You idiots, have you never prepared a cross before?” he barked as he hastened toward them.

  The men exchanged awkward glances, further annoying Alexander. “Look at this!” He pointed at the top of the crosses. “Why is one taller than the other? And the wood—does it have to be so thick? How will you raise the cross when you nail the prisoners on it?”

  “That’s all the wood we could find,” one of the guards said.

  Alexander’s fingernails dug into his palms. “Do I have to do everything myself?”

  A scream startled him. He rushed to a priest standing over a cross. Three more priests were holding down a girl with long dark hair as their colleague lifted the hammer with one hand, his other hand steadying a nail on her open palm.

  “Not like that,” Alexander bellowed. He grabbed the priest’s raised hand. “You have to place the nail at the base of the wrist, or the skin will tear the moment you lift the cross.” He snatched the hammer and shoved the man aside. “Here, I shall show you.”

  “No,” the girl screamed, struggling against her captors. The nail flew to the ground.

  He extended his hand and one of the priests placed a thick nail on his palm. “Hold her arm,” he ordered. The priests immobilized the girl’s arm over the dark wood. “Now watch.”

  “Please,” the girl whimpered. “Don’t.” Her face was as white as fresh snow.

  Alexander stared at her imploring eyes. “Do you forsake your false god?”

  Her eyes widened. She bit her lip, then shook her head. “May God have mercy upon you.”

  His mouth twitched in fury. “This is not about mercy,” he roared. “It’s about justice.”

  “May God judge you, then,” she whispered and shut her eyes.

  He reached for his dagger to slit the insolent bitch’s throat, then remembered the nail in his hand. “This is for your own good,” he spat. He carefully stood the nail on her wrist.

  She jerked her hand and the nail flew away. “You bitch!” Alexander exploded and punched her. Her head slammed against the wood as she let out a pained cry.

  “Hold her,” Alexander ordered again through gritted teeth. His fingers found the nail on the ground. He replaced it over the girl’s wrist and struck. He expected a scream as the hammer’s hilt pulsed in his hand, bruising it, but none came. The girl’s head hung limply on her chest. “Is she dead?”

  A priest placed his hand over her carotid. “She’s fainted.”

  Good. Perhaps now I can do this properly. Saving this girl’s soul was hard work, harder than he imagined. “This is for your own good,” he repeated, even though she could no longer hear him. One more soul added to Themis’ flock. What more could a humble priest ask for? The thought steadied his hand.

  The next strike missed the nail’s head, jolting it sideways. A jet of red hot blood struck him in the face. He staggered backward in a vain effort to avoid a second spurt, then a third stream soiled his bright white robes with bright red smudges.

  Bloody mess! He wiped the girl’s blood from his mouth and watched the life rush out of her body. Within minutes, her face had turned ashen.

  Behind him, one of the priests retched.

  “Must have nicked the artery,” another priest suggested.

  “I can see that, you idiot,” Alexander barked, staring at the girl’s lifeless body. He motioned for the priests to lift the cross. Two of them lifted it, while the third one held it in place. They all avoided his eyes.

  “What do you want to do with the rest of them?” the priest holding the cross asked. “Nailing them will probably kill them as well.”

  Alexander wiped his face with his sleeve. He grimaced in disgust at the new smudges on his fine garment. “Just tie them to their crosses. We leave in a couple of days. The villagers are welcome to any survivors.”

  Two guards dragging a cursing First approached him. Not a First. An ape. He chuckled at how appropriate the derogatory term was.

  “Let me down,” the man screamed. “Do you know who I am? I’m Cyrus. I’m your ruler.”

  The men chuckled. One of them punched him in the mouth with his elbow. “Shut up, ape.”

  “And I’m Sol,” the other guard said. They roared with laughter.

  “I hate liars,” Alexander said. “Start with him. As soon as the next cross is ready, tie him up and use him for archery practice.”

  The man spat blood and screamed obscenities as the guards held him down.

  Running footsteps echoed behind Alexander. He swung around to see a guard approach.

  “Eminence, you should come to the prison at once. The Captain’s at it with the prisoner.”

  The Valley

  Sebastian

  The door burst open behind him. “What is going on here?” Alexander’s nasally voice cracked, whip-like.

  Sebastian paused, his foot freezing midair. He ran his fingers through the stubble on his head. I need fresh air. Without a word, he shoved Alexander aside and stormed outside.

  He drank deep gulps of air as soon as he ran out of the building and into the square. Could that man be telling the truth? Are the Iotas gone? All of my brothers—dead?

  He felt trapped in a horrific nightmare. He sank to his knees and let out a throat-scratching roar. From afar, wails answered back. The crucified. The rage that had engulfed him turned into despair. They won. Those disgusting h
umans have won. Again. He glanced at the crucifixes, their tops visible from behind the short trees. His stomach spat acid into his throat. I should just kill myself and let them kill each other. Our mission is over. What’s the point of going on? He slammed his fists to the ground.

  Punish them, the whispering voice said in his head. Fulfill your mission. Cleanse the planet of the miasma.

  “But how?” he cried out. “I’m alone.”

  You’re not alone. You’re with the priest now.

  The thought of Alexander and the dark fog that surrounded him made Sebastian hurl his stomach’s contents to the ground. “He’s just as bad as any of them,” he said aloud, his head slumped. “Why would I help him?”

  Because he will rid us of the humans.

  Sebastian shook his head, still on all fours. Fine. I’ll help the priest. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. But first, I need to find out more about my brothers.

  He stumbled back to the cellar. Alexander waited for him at the corridor, two guards posted before the door. He lifted a hand. “Sorry, I can’t let you in. We need him alive.”

  “What?”

  “The prisoner told us how he killed the guard and tried to escape. I assume you came to have your revenge on him?”

  David is covering for me? Why? “I just want to question him.”

  Alexander studied him for a moment. “Very well. Just make sure nothing happens to him.” His mouth parted in a grin. “Nothing permanent, anyway.” He nodded to the guards, who pushed the door open, then stepped aside to let Sebastian in.

  The stench of vomit and urine hit Sebastian as he entered the cramped space. He waited for the door to close behind him. David was back in his corner, huddled. Wet patches littered the straw-covered slate floor.

  “David?”

  The man failed to move.

  “David?” he repeated.

  The prisoner let out a moan and stirred.

  Sebastian kneeled next to him. “David!” he shouted, next to the man’s ear.

  The man jolted and lifted his head. His left eye was half-closed and dark red. Swollen lumps on his face were fast turning purple.

  How far did the priest go? “Can you hear me?”

  David nodded after a moment. “Water,” he whispered, his voice clogged.

  Sebastian searched the room with his gaze. The jug was on its side at the far corner. With a sense of déjà vu, he fetched it and held it for David to gulp it thirstily.

  I may not have much time. If he’s bleeding internally… “I have questions.”

  David wiped his chin. “What do you need, clone?” The voice was even hoarser than before.

  “Sebastian,” he snapped.

  David lifted an eyebrow and winced in pain. “Since when does your kind have names?”

  “What do you know about us?” Sebastian spat. He leaned closer. “What happened?”

  The man paused for a moment. “The Old Woman gave us a bomb. It killed everyone. Pratin’s dead. The Iotas are no more. No more clones.” A flash of sympathy crossed his face. “You’re probably the last of your kind.”

  Sebastian’s palms clenched into fists, but somehow he kept his voice steady. “Why should I believe you?”

  David shrugged, wincing in pain. “Why would I be lying?” When no answer came, he let out a small sigh. With what remained of his sleeve, he wiped clotting blood from his mouth. “Fine, I’m lying. We didn’t fly into the Iota’s city. I didn’t have a Sheim-h’thor. And we didn’t use an ion bomb.”

  The resignation on his face made Sebastian’s stomach churn with despair. He hated the feeling.

  “Look, I’m sorry,” the man continued. “But think of it this way. If you’re the last one, you’re free. You can change things. Make them right.”

  “Right?” A bitter laugh escaped Sebastian’s lips, unbidden. “You took over the planet. Killed everyone. Everything. And I have to make amends?”

  “I know what happened. And you’re right. I’m sorry for my kind. But killing us won’t bring anyone back. Won’t help you find peace.”

  Peace? There’s no such thing. “What makes you think I need peace?” Sebastian spat the last word.

  “She does.” David nodded toward a corner.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Sebastian caught a glimmering form. Anna! She disappeared as soon as he gazed at her. He jumped up and clutched the empty air. “Anna!”

  “Is that her name?”

  Sebastian grabbed David from the collar and lifted him in the air, ignoring the man’s scream of pain. “Are you the one doing this?”

  “No.”

  He’s telling the truth, a calm voice said from deep inside him. Can’t you see that? With a grunt, he shoved David into the wall and let go of him. The man slumped down, into a broken heap, his arm in an unnatural position.

  “What’s happening to me?” Sebastian roared.

  With obvious effort, David lifted his head to face him. “You’re haunted, my friend. You’re the last of the clones, and you’re haunted by your victims. Just like us.” He chuckled. “Maybe we’re not that different after all.”

  “Make her go away,” Sebastian commanded. “Make the voices stop.”

  “Wish that I could. Doesn’t work that way, I’m afraid. Sooner or later, karma catches up with you. And it’s a bitch.”

  The door to the cell swung open. Alexander marched in. He motioned for Sebastian to get the prisoner. “It is time for our guest to join his friends outside.”

  The Valley

  David

  As Sebastian left the cell, David shook his pounding head to clear it. Pain shot from his temples as his gaze met Alexander’s. “What friends?” he asked.

  “The villagers, of course.” Alexander flicked a nonexistent fleck of dust from his sleeve. “After all, you did humiliate me before my men. Killed four of them.” He paused, as if mentally counting. “No, wait. There’s the guard, too. Five.”

  David’s head slumped back. What the hell possessed me to lie about that? He knew the answer; his gut told him there was something about the clone. Alexander might have killed Sebastian on the spot, had he realized what the man had done. But David, he might keep alive—at least once he knew his identity. He served more as a trophy to Teo than as an example to the villagers. As for Cyrus, he could only guess what Alexander’s reaction would be to him.

  I need help. Parad?

  No answer came.

  Are you even there?

  Nothing.

  I could really use your help. Your son could use your help.

  He moaned with frustration as Alexander banged his fist on the door. A priest rushed inside.

  “Take him with the others,” Alexander ordered.

  The man produced a rusty key from within his robes and grabbed David’s chains.

  David cried out in pain as the metal dug into his flesh. “Wait!” He licked his cracked lips, his brain working feverishly. “What if I told you something you don’t know?”

  Alexander let out a sneer. “Why would I care? This is not some bad bard tale, where I keep you alive, only for you to escape and foil my plans.”

  “You don’t even know who I am. Don’t you wish to know my name at least?”

  Alexander shrugged and grabbed David’s arm to pull him to his feet.

  “I’m David Rivera,” he said, gasping with pain.

  After a split second, recognition lit up in the Head Priest’s eyes. A hiss escaped his lips. He gave David a hard stare for a moment, then turned to the priest. “You. Out. Now.”

  As soon as the man left, Alexander approached David. “The David Rivera? The most wanted man in the Capital?” He unsheathed a dagger and grabbed David’s hair. Pulling it backward, he placed the dagger on David’s throat. “I should kill you right here and now.” The cold metal hesitated on David’s pulsing carotid, then Alexander let out a sigh and sheathed it again. “Fine. Bad bard song it is. The Regent will be most eager to meet you. Or maybe I shall keep you all t
o myself. I may have a use for you.”

  He motioned for his guards to leave, then paced the small cell. “I never thought I would meet you,” he said once they were alone. That is, if you are who you claim to be.”

  “Don’t believe me? Ask your friends.”

  Alexander cast him a confused glance. “My priests? How would they know?”

  “Not them. The Whispers.” The last word came out hushed.

  Alexander’s head snapped up. “The servants of Themis? Is that what you call them?” He studied David. “I should kill you just for mentioning the name of the holy ones.”

  As he stood back on his feet, he placed a hand on red crystal hanging around his neck. The crystal began to pulse like a living, breathing thing. A pang of pain shot through David’s skull, blinding him momentarily. When his head cleared, he saw a serpentine curl made of thick smoke coiled around the priest’s head, its other end hiding inside the hungry crystal. The strange sight vanished with a puff a moment later, extinguishing the flame inside the crystal as swiftly as it had appeared.

  An eerie crimson light played in Alexander’s eyes as he stared at David. “So, you are telling the truth. And they told me that your ape friend wasn’t lying either. He really is Cyrus.” He absentmindedly tapped the crystal, a dark smile on his lips. “I shall not kill you after all. You may be more useful to me alive.”

  David’s throat felt like sandpaper. “You must release us. Cyrus is your ruler.”

  Fury flashed in Alexander’s eyes. He backhanded David. “Don’t tell me what to do, servant boy.” He smirked. “Yes, they told me all about you. Aren’t they wonderful? They know so much. But you know nothing.”

  Blood trickled from David’s broken lip. His cheek felt on fire. “I know more than you think. I know they are tricksters, who’ll stop at nothing to destroy humanity.”

  Alexander resumed his pacing. “Is that right? And do you know who I am?”

  “The new Head Priest.” David shook his head. “I liked Tie better, to be honest.”