"So blocking is closing a door or turning off a light and they can keep you from opening them or turning them back on. Except with thoughts."
"Yes. I've never had telepathy, but for some reason, since meeting you and now seeing Joss again, I'm picking it up. She once said being blocked by someone powerful caused fear, but fear as if it were smoke. She was trying to see, but it stung and she felt she was in danger. She couldn't make herself keep looking. A few seconds ago, I had the same sensation."
"Someone down there's blocking you."
"That is correct."
"Who?"
"That's the puzzling thing. I was trying to locate my father. See if I could tell where he was or what he was doing."
"So it was your dad?"
"No. He has no more telepathy than I had." Pietas stood and brushed off dirt and twigs.
"Okay, now wait." Six pushed himself up. "If dear old dad didn't have telepathy, then how did he know you didn't?"
"Scientists identified the gene way back in the early twenty-third century. He tested for it."
"And he tried giving it to you? Huh." Six tossed aside the weed he'd been holding. "You can do that? Add telepathy genes to people?"
"If you're a geneticist with the skills of my father, yes. There's a name for it as long as your arm. He attempted it with me and my sister at least once a year until I left home. Tried it with himself and Mother as well, but we all noretienne the code." Anticipating Six's question, he added, "We couldn't accept and retain it. He postulated we had another gene that negated the effects, but he never isolated or identified it."
An image arose of his father screaming in rage and hurling a glass beaker. It shattered on the wall just as his mother entered. She'd suffered multiple cuts. It was the first and last time he'd ever seen his father apologize for an outburst. Although Mahikos had flown into rages since, he'd never thrown breakables again. At least, not in confined quarters and not around them.
Six was squinting at him. "And?"
"And what? Sorry. I was thinking. What did you say?"
"I didn't ask anything. I could see what you saw."
"Oh." Cheeks hot, Pietas dragged one bare toe along the grit on the trail. "I'm sorry, Six."
"It's okay. I don't think you can help sending. I can't help receiving."
"Thanks."
"Have you ever flown into that kind of rage?"
"Ever heard the term berserker?"
"Yeah! Finally, you ask me about something I know. It's a Norse legend about warriors who went into battle-lust during a fight. Fought with everything they had and kept going even if mortally wounded. They'd drop dead once the fighting ended."
"That's a gene as well. Ultra warriors are created with it. Armand and Philippe have it. You never want them to come after you. My father was created in the scientist class but he altered his own genetics. Gave himself the berserker gene and passed it to both me and my sister. My mother, on the other hand, though an enhanced warrior, is more scientist. Calm, cool, logical. Looks at both sides before deciding. I've often wished I took more after her."
"Pi, you take after her more than you know."
"Any calm I express is a learned behavior. Rage is my natural state."
"I believe it. I've seen you fight, but I never knew rage was genetic." Six snapped his fingers. "Hey, what if you're becoming telepathic because of the planet? Some kind of Sempervian magnetic field."
"An excellent suggestion. However, you heard me on the ship before we ever left Enderium Six."
"Oh, yeah. I forgot that." The ghost plucked another weed and chewed its stem.
As if some predator had sent shockwaves through the aether, background noise ceased.
Pietas came to abrupt attention. His scalp tingled.
Six threw down the weed and took up a position back-to-back with him.
Silence.
No wind.
No insects.
No bird calls.
Nothing.
Someone--or something--watched them.
The cradle's steep sides increased the darkness. The majestic array of stars sent a faint wash of light, slashing a silhouette of scrubby trees along the caldera's sides.
Once more, he sent a telepathic quest.
No blocking this time. Instead, the watcher opened to him, allowing him to see through alien eyes.
Judging by the angle, the watcher stood across from him. Not far away, he sensed others had gathered, less focused, less interested. Tolerating his presence, whereas the watcher found him fascinating. Why?
In the dark, Pietas glowed. His white hair shone brighter than a silver beacon. A pulse of light surrounded him. No such light around Six. The ghost appeared to the watcher as a dark shape, but why? Was it because he was human? Reanimated? Quasi-immortal?
Who was this?
Are you a native of Sempervia? Who are you? What do you want?
No coherent thought returned. Though the watcher still revealed nothing, gender solidified. It. Not he/she. Gender didn't matter. Wasn't a concept it used. It did not breed.
Why not? What was it?
Watch. Scout. Guard. Keep. Care. Safe. Duty.
Less string of words, more string of must-do attitudes. Like being hit with a thesaurus of precise correctness which permitted no forfeit. No other way to act.
Duty is life.
Pietas related to that.
Mentally connected, he moved with the watcher. Loose limbs, feet hitting the ground. A tree in the dark. Climbing. Up, up. No consideration to the rough bark beneath bare feet. The narrow branch creaked, but there was no fear of falling. The strength of the branch was not protection. The strength of the watcher was.
Pietas separated himself from the watcher's mind. Unfocused. Let himself perceive change versus detail. Subtle movement on a branch in a windswept tree drew revealed black on black. Huge. Silent. Movement ceased and the watcher turned toward him. Shimmering jade orbs blinked.
Of course!
He ought to have recognized it. Pietas gave himself a mental slap. He'd connected telepathically to the panther.
Six came around beside him. "What panther?"
"You heard that?"
"Are you telling me you didn't say it out loud?"
"I did not."
Six rubbed his forehead. "Gettin' weird, Ultra. I'm starting to hear everything. What I heard was that you connected telepathically to the panther. But what panther?"
"The one in--" Squinting, Pietas took a step. Not in the tree. Not to the left. Not visible on the rocks to the right. He released an explosive sigh.
"What?"
"I'm not imagining that thing! Why does no one see it but me?"
"You okay?"
He scrubbed both hands over his face. "Fine. Unnerving to be in a cat's mind."
"What did it feel like?"
"Imagine walking on a bed of sugar-coated marshmallows. Lots of give. Soft but gritty. No words. Just impressions. Never experienced anything so alien. And yet..."
Six lifted his hands. "Don't stop there! And yet what?"
"I felt a kinship. This might not make sense, but it's what I have with you. The cat has my back."
"Huh. So it's friendly."
"I sensed no threat. It seems to have adopted me for some reason. It let me see myself through its eyes. I wish I understood how this is happening. Maybe it's normal for telepaths to talk to animals. I have no background. No way to know."
"I was thinking, you lost so much weight in that pod you came out skin and bones. When I got it open and saw you, I figured you were dead until you looked up at me. Honestly expected you to die in my arms. And then the minute you got liquid food and water you started coming back. Maybe that's how your telepathy got started. By being deprived."
"Possible."
"Or what if the pod itself changed you? Supposedly I shouldn't have been able to hear you through it because it was made of steel and copper blend, but maybe that caused it."
"Maybe." He tappe
d one finger against his lips.
"About this blocking thing. We know it's not your family blocking you, which means it's a council member. I can't see it being the twins."
"True. I know the gifts of every person in that camp. Of the ten people down there, only one has the ability to block."
"Is that person trying to protect your father?"
"I don't have experience to tell. But it did cross my mind. If so, then it's doubly concerning."
"Why?"
He faced the camp. "Because the person blocking me is Joss."
Chapter Eighteen
Fists clenched, Pietas halted. His heart raced. His breath came too fast. Too shallow. I am bigger than any fear. I am unbeatable. I am unstoppable.
"Yes, you are." Six touched the middle of his back.
Pietas jerked away from him. "You aren't supposed to hear me, ghost."
"Then stop thinking so loud."
His iron discipline kept swear words from spewing out his mouth, but if ever one fit, it was now.
Six grinned. "Same to you, Ultra."
Exasperated, he turned to go.
"Hey." Six touched his arm. "Can I give you some advice?"
He tightened his jaw, faced the man, and waited.
Six stuck his thumbs in the straps of his pack. "After I signed the paperwork to become a ghost, I went home. Visited family. My abuela had died, but I hung out with my cousins. I said I was going on a long-term mission, so they put together a going away party. My birth mother showed up."
The ghost related few stories of his personal life, so Pietas paid close attention. "What happened?"
"I hadn't seen her in years. Maybe ten or more. Didn't want to see her. She'd abandoned me. Why should I talk to her? But I kept hearing my abuela's advice. 'Value family. They're your treasure.' I didn't want to believe that for a minute, but I couldn't get it out of my mind."
"You talked to her."
"I did. But before I went, I reminded myself of a few things my abuela taught me. Be aware of your emotions." He counted on his fingers as he listed them. "Don't respond to emotional chaos. Set boundaries. Don't let anyone steal your joy. Forgive those who do you wrong."
"How can one forgive when one can't forget?"
"Forgiveness doesn't mean you forget. You should never forget. To forget would mean they could hurt you again."
"Then how can one forgive?"
"You forgive because no matter what they did, or whether they deserve to be forgiven, you recognize that you deserve peace."
Pietas clasped his hands and brought them to his mouth, voiceless.
Once, when he'd trained with Armand and Philippe, he'd missed a blocking opportunity and Armand hit him in the chest. Philippe followed through not two seconds later. The twins hadn't intended to hurt him, but the double punch laid him out on the floor, unable to breathe, unsure his heart was still beating. Helpless.
Six's words hit him the same way.
How he ached to believe them.
Since one could not erase, change, or edit the past, a single choice remained. Accept it.
His father deserved no forgiveness. He wasn't worth it. Had never been worth it.
He'd give anything to make this pain stop, but one could not wish away the truth. This pain came from pure truth. He'd come upon it as a boy, pondering how he could improve, make himself a better student. A more adept soldier. A less disappointing son.
This pain came from the shattered delusion that he'd ever been loved.
He sucked in a deep, ragged breath and released it. No, his father would never love him but it didn't matter. The man would never get close enough to hurt him again.
Pietas squeezed Six's arm. Thank you, he mouthed, not trusting his voice.
He led Six toward the camp.
Not thirty seconds later, Joss stepped out of the shadows. "Hey, sexy." She set one hand on her hip. "I'd say 'Halt, who goes there?' but as loud as you've been broadcasting, there's no need."
Before Pietas could ask what she'd heard, Joss kissed him.
"Don't worry about being overheard, love. I've been blocking you. I'll teach you how to shield better so you won't reveal secrets." She trailed a fingertip down his cheek and out to the dent in his chin. "And for your information, when a telepath is on duty, blocking is part of the work. I have no interest in protecting anyone in this camp from you." She kissed him again and set her mouth near his ear. "Including me."
Pietas tightened his arms around her. Mindful of Six watching them, he drew back. Later, he sent. I want to be alone with you. He added, Did you hear that?
"Yes," they chorused.
Six batted his eyes at him.
Pietas cast a pleading look heavenward. He took Joss's arm and let Six trail behind them. "You need to teach me how to do this telepathy thing privately."
Oh honey. She sent him a flirtatious smile. I already have it planned.
Chapter Nineteen
Pietas put one persistent foot before the other. Rising tension stole the breath from his lungs but he soldiered on. His mother waited at camp.
So did his father.
An Ultra tackled what he most wanted to avoid. He did not seek to escape discomfort. Pain was a warrior's ally. But knowing that, believing it, living it, did not stop the dread.
The past closed in on him. He sat alone in darkness. Entombed in silence. Surrounded by the acrid smell of musty, urine-soaked cloth and his own sweat. Trapped inside a dirt-covered cage, running out of air, with his father's voice berating him.
"You made a stupid blunder on a simple number like pi. What is wrong with you? If you want out of there, recite pi to the thousandth place. Correctly. Start again, Pietas. From the beginning."
He'd uttered the last number, struggling to push the sounds out of his mouth. When the cage opened and air whooshed in, he choked, unable to draw it in fast enough. Gasping, retching, he curled into a ball on the ground.
"Get up!" Mahikos hauled him to his feet. "You're going to learn to hold your breath or you'll be sorry! What did I tell you? Ultras hold their breath ten times longer than you. You're a pathetic excuse for a soldier." He shook him. "How old are you?"
His neck hurt, but he didn't dare complain. His father would make it worse. "Ten, sir."
"Ten. You act like you're two. Stand up straight when I'm speaking to you."
He drew himself up. "Sir, yes, sir."
He smacked Pietas on the back of the head. "Pi. That's what I'm going to call you when you make stupid mistakes from now on. Pi. You hear that? Your new name is Pi!"
"Pietas?"
At Joss's voice, the sounds of the forest intruded, bringing him back to the present.
She peered at him. "Are you all right?"
The past whirled away like tattered ghost ships on the ebbing tide. His heart raced, throat dry. His fists ached from clenching them.
"Of course." She'd overheard, but this was not new to her. He'd shared much of his past with Joss. He lifted her hand to his lips. "Let's go. We're almost there."
As she turned away, Pietas inhaled, let it all out, drew in another breath. Some king he was. Spooked by a lingering memory he was unable to forget.
Six came up and walked beside him, head down. "Sorry."
"For what?"
"Calling you Pi." He looked up. "I had no idea."
"Heard that, did you?" Pietas coughed into a fist, kept walking. "I don't want you to stop. It will infuriate my father beyond measure when he hears you call me that and I fail to flay you alive for taking such liberties."
Six chuckled. "Gotcha." He unplugged the canteen. "Want a shot of this?"
"I'm good." He set a hand on his friend's shoulder, gave a brief squeeze. "Thank you, Six." He pushed onward.
On the edge of camp, light from the open, upright pods cast a welcoming yellow glow across a circle of rounded stones. Inside, a spit held several rabbits over a crackling fire. Sitting cross-legged around it, Armand and Philippe and the four other council members
talked among themselves.
Joss entered ahead of him. "Look who I found."
Everyone turned at the same time.
Koliga jumped up and raced toward him. "Pietas!" Laughing, the black-skinned man lifted Pietas off his feet and bear-hugged him, almost cracking bones. Koliga spun around with him. Though a foot shorter, he was Toil class and they were always stronger. "You're here!" He set him down. "Welcome back."
"Thank you, Lig." He had no time to recover before the others surrounded him.
"Welcome back." Michel's embrace was less boisterous but every bit as bone-cracking. The man set the back of his fingers against Pietas's cheek in a hand-kiss. "Glad you're safe." He stepped aside.
The twins nodded to him from beside the fire.
As dark-skinned as Koliga, the beautiful Marjo fisted both hands around the front of his shirt and tugged him toward her. "You took your sweet time getting here. But I'm glad you made it." She planted a kiss on his mouth and then released him. "You always had a swimmer's body, but now you've gotten scrawny." She patted his lean stomach. "Guess you aren't eating any better than we are."
All had hollow cheeks and shadows beneath their eyes. Armand and Philippe seemed to have lost the least body weight. That would have been Ultra protocol. Food and shelter went to the warrior class first. You protected those who protected you.
The front line must not fall.
Erryq was last to greet him. The gorgeous little redhead held out her arms in invitation. "Do I get a hug?"
He wrapped himself around her.
Head against his upper abs, she squeezed him. "I missed you!" She looked up.
Pietas gave her a quick kiss. "And I you."
Marjo slid an arm around Pietas's waist and leaned into him.
His mother was nowhere in sight. Neither were his father or Dessy. That lingering sense of dread nudged him again.
"There's someone I want you to meet." He untangled himself from the women and returned to retrieve Six. The ghost had agreed to wait for him until Pietas scouted the scene.
Six wasn't where Pietas had left him.
"Six!" No answer. He sent out a kueshda but found nothing in the aether. No sign of his passing. Not one hint of his presence. "Six! Siiiiix!"
Bringer of Chaos_Forged in Fire Page 10