“I don’t get it.”
“Hatred; anger; jealousy; all these are poison to the body, and even more toxic to the soul. You don’t forgive others so they can be well; you do it so you can be.”
“How do you know the right choice?”
“That’s easy: the right decision is the one that carries the most compassion. The most love.”
“What about consequences?”
“You know the right path in here…” Orin said, tapping Lehmor’s chest, “…not here.” He touched Lehmor’s head with a gnarled finger.
Lehmor reflected on that for a moment. “Then, I want to see her.”
“It’s awful when your heart and your body are in different places,” Oran agreed. “So what’s keeping you?”
Lehmor blinked. “You?”
The old man burst into laughter. “I’m just an old man, not your keeper. How can I keep you from doing what your heart desires?”
“Then, I can leave?”
Oran pointed at Lehmor’s wrists, then at his head. “I don’t see any chains. Except for the ones in there.”
“But what do I tell her?”
“And we come full circle. That’s for you to discover. The important thing is to have a target to focus on. How can you achieve anything without that?” He produced a cover and placed it around his eyes. “Stand back,” he ordered and a rod came to life in his hands.
Lehmor stepped back as a target sprang at a far corner of the cavern. Oran spun to face it and shot a single bolt of light. It crossed the cavern to dissipate on the wall, missing the target by far.
Removing the cover, Oran turned to his embarrassed student. “What lesson do you think I intended to teach you?”
“How to hit the target without looking,” Lehmor replied.
“No,” Oran said and smiled. “I wish to teach you that the only way to hit a target, is to keep an eye on it.”
Lehmor chuckled. “Focus,” he repeated. He now had a target: to find Moirah and win back their life together. “How do I achieve that?”
“We start with your form.”
Lehmor got up and stomped his legs to get the blood flowing again. “Can I ask you something?” he asked the old man.
Oran shrugged. “Who’s to stop you?”
“The Iotas are wise. Powerful. Why don’t you take over the world? Who’s to stop you?”
“No one, but ourselves.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You say we could take over the world. Then what?”
“You rule it.”
“Why?”
Lehmor was taken aback by the question. Why would someone want to rule a world? He pondered the question for a moment. “To have no fear.”
“Where are you more in danger: at the top of the hill, where you stand alone and everyone can see you, or hidden at its foot, among countless others?”
“At the top.”
“There you go. Anyway, what makes you think you can conquer fear like that? You think you can control the world? Our ancestors thought so, too. They fought countless wars against each other for millennia. Then, your people came and it was all for nothing. Had we had peace, perhaps things could have been different.”
“A strong leader could have saved your planet.”
“Perhaps. And a few years later, an asteroid might have destroyed it. Or volcanoes. Or some sickness. There’s too much to fear in our universe.”
“So, you do nothing?” Lehmor insisted.
“Action always breeds reaction; the stronger the former, the greater the latter. That’s why we focus on non-action. However, there’s a difference between inaction and non-action. We strive to achieve our goals by the least interference possible.”
Lehmor faced Oran, studying his wrinkled face. “What are your goals?”
The old man gave him an enigmatic smile. “To live. To learn. To grow. But my goal for you is different. I wish to help you understand.”
“Understand what?”
“Why do people fight wars?” Oran asked, in place of an answer.
“Their leaders tell them to.”
“And why do people obey them?”
Lehmor reflected on that. “Because they believe in them. Or they fear them.”
“Yes. Faith and fear make people fight.”
“What about the Fallen?”
“The abominations are created out of fear; an Orbs’ fear of death. They refuse to accept death as part of the journey, and that marks them for eternity. Their path is unnatural; they have no faith, and this makes them fight.”
“What’s your faith?”
“We prefer to avoid naming it, for any -isms lead to fanaticism and confusion. Each of us must find his own path by looking into his heart. We strive to free ourselves from desire, for it always leads to pain. Without desire, why would we wish to rule the world? Our goal is to observe it, study it; not interfere with it. To try and control it, to rule over it, is a twofold sin. One because it can’t be done, and two because trying will corrupt you. We teach our people to focus inwards instead, learn how to control their thoughts and emotions, rid themselves of desire. How can you rule the world, when you can’t even control yourself?”
“No one can get rid of desire.”
Oran studied him for a moment. “What’s your greatest desire?”
Lehmor pursed his lips in thought. “I want Moirah,” he said in the end.
“Why?”
“She makes me happy.”
“It’s happiness that you desire, then.”
“Yes.”
Oran smiled his wide smile and kneeled on the floor. “I… want… happiness,” he wrote on the ground with a finger. Then, he stood up and rubbed his foot against the first word. “Get rid of I,” he said and looked at Lehmor. “Ridding yourself from your ego is the first step.” He then erased the second word. “Rid yourself from desire, for it clouds your mind.” He motioned towards the single remaining word. “What are you left with?”
“Happiness,” read Lehmor and grinned. “Neat.”
Chamber of Justice, the Capital
Angel
“My lord, I didn’t expect you here!”
When Cyrus stormed through the prison door, Xhi jumped so fast from his chair that it crashed on the wall behind him, sending splinters flying. Cyrus gave him an indifferent nod.
“Where’s my sister?”
“Over here my lord! You will see that nothing has –”
Cyrus cut him off with a wave of his hand as he made his way to Angel’s cell. “Open it,” he ordered.
Xhi hurried to obey, his hands trembling as he flung the door open. Angel gave Cyrus a hopeful look, but the darkness in his stare sent shivers down her spine.
“Leave us,” he commanded, sending Xhi to scurry back to his desk. The hapless guard examined the chair briefly, then sat himself on it and stood perfectly still, as if trying to blend in with the wall behind him.
“What do you want?” Angel asked her brother. Something in his eyes scared her, and fear made her words sound harsh even to her ears.
Cyrus took a moment before he answered. “I’m here to tell you how disappointed I am in you.”
Her cheeks flushed in anger. “Fine, you told me.”
It only served to harden his lips into a cruel smirk. “Won’t you ask how your boyfriend is doing?”
She blinked, not understanding. “Don’t hurt Sam!” she blurted out.
He gave her a contemptuous look that froze her. “You won’t even deny it. Well, if you can’t protect yourself, I guess I’ll have to do it for you.”
“Protect… What do you mean?”
“That boy, you think I don’t know what he was after?” He kneeled before her and took her hands in his, while she tried hard not to pull them away. “I have to protect you from them. Can’t you see? They’re everywhere; only I can save you.”
He made no sense, even if she could concentrate on his feverish rant. She tried to sound calm as she spok
e, but her trembling hands betrayed her emotions. “What did you do to Sam?”
He castigated her with his eyes. “Sam… That’s all you care about, isn’t it? I put that little piece of trash in its place. You don’t have to be afraid of him anymore, he won’t dare touch you again.”
“What did you do?” she asked, speaking each word very slowly. Her limbs were colder than death, and she held her breath waiting for his answer.
“After I cut his hands off, I gouged his eyes out for daring to look at you in such a way. But I was not without mercy. When he begged enough, I killed him. Slowly of course; he deserved no better.”
All blood left her face and she shivered. “You’re a monster,” she gasped. “A monster!” Life left her body, and she collapsed in a heap on the hard bed.
When she came to, it was Xhi that was facing her, kneeling before her. He had a worried, compassionate look on his face that surprised her. “Miss? Miss Angel, are you alright?” he kept repeating, as he patted her hand with his plump fingers. She pulled her hand away, and he looked embarrassed. Without a word, he got up and fled her cell. With nervous fingers he browsed through the keys in his hand, when he paused. He spun around and kneeled next to her bed again. Shooting a scared look around, he leaned closer. She tried to pull her face away, but he held it with both his hands. Expecting a disgusting kiss, she shut her eyelids. Instead, his lips grazed her ear.
“If they find out I told you, they’ll kill me. Do you understand?” he whispered.
He leaned back and saw the confusion in her face, so he repeated himself. She bobbed her head, still not understanding.
He stole another glance around the empty room, then his lips touched her ear once again. “Sam escaped. They held him and the priestess in the dungeons below. No one knows how it happened, but their cell was found empty in the morning. Everyone’s out looking for them.”
Her breath caught, and she started to shake. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Your father. I, too, had met him. I was in a dark place then. Very dark. The things he said… He turned my life around. That’s why I told no one of you and Sam, I promise.”
Her heart skipped a beat at Sam’s mention. “Did you and Dad fight together?” she asked to stop herself from dwelling on his fate.
A crooked half-smile appeared on his face. “I’ve been a jailer a long time, Miss. No fighting for me. Not in a very long time.”
She shook her head, understanding. Xhi had been Parad’s keeper, back when Styx had imprisoned him. “And all the awful things he said…” she whispered.
Xhi cast a miserable look at her, and for a moment, while he resembled a scared boy, she could not help but pity him. “It’s what he did to their guard,” he said.
Ephia
Gella
“Welcome again. I trust you’ve had a good night’s sleep?” Gella asked, observing the dark circles under the Assembly members’ defeated eyes. Even perky Satori today looked beaten.
Someone mumbled a reply she did not catch, and they all entered the spacious tent. Without a word, they sat down around the table, taking the same seats as last time. Except for Teo’s absence, this could have been a re-enactment of their previous meeting. She had no idea where he was, but he often arrived late to meetings. She found herself wishing he did not show up; she found him a disruptive presence, and feared that her dislike of him made her careless.
“I hope you have thought over our conversation,” she said when the servants finished filling their cups with warm tea and fresh juice. “Our prince is very generous, agreeing to forget all this ever happened,” she continued, “but his patience does have limits. Don’t mistake generosity for weakness.” She dismissed the servants with a wave of her hands, and they slipped outside the tent, leaving only two guards and her guests inside. It would be another warm day, and she was grateful the Assembly had met with her early, when it was still relatively cool.
Satori was sitting sullen, arms crossed, eyes downcast. A good sign, Gella thought. It was an older man who stood up and answered her question.
“Thank you, General. We have discussed the situation, and are prepared to listen to your terms.”
Her face lit up. They had abandoned Satori and Paul without a single battle being fought, a single life being lost. She tasted victory in her mouth, and it tasted sweet. She opened her mouth to reply, when Altman stormed into the tent.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” he said and hurried next to her. “What did I miss?”
She clenched her teeth, but made sure her face did not betray her annoyance. “Master Altman, thank you for gracing us with your presence. The Assembly wishes to listen to our terms,” she said.
He raised an eyebrow in his theatrical manner. “What terms? There can be no terms with traitors.”
Her cheeks flushed as if he had just slapped her in the face. “This is not what we –”
Teo ignored her and turned his attention to the man. “I’m sorry, my General seems to have forgotten her place. I am the personal envoy of the prince, and I speak in his authority. My General is only here to fight my battles.”
I’ll skin him alive! Her ears buzzed as rage filled her.
The man sat down, all blood leaving his face.
“There will be no terms, no discussions, no agreements. You will surrender the city and I may consider letting you all live.” He grinned at the gobsmacked people gaping at him. “So, when can we expect your surrender?”
Satori was the first to rush to her feet. “I told you this would happen! This is what you get for not listening to me!” The old man next to her shook his head. “I was blind, but my eyes have been opened.” He pushed his chair back and raised himself. He had taken again the mantle of a leader, a man people would fight for. “Tell your prince that the men and women of Ephia will die first before we let his lackeys enter our city.”
Teo scoffed. “This is a joke. We outnumber you, you have no hope. We will kill you, hang you from the walls of your city so everyone sees what happens to traitors.”
The man shook his head. “Perhaps,” he said. “But what they will see is that Ephia stood her ground and fought in bravery.”
Gella wanted to scream and cry and kill Teo with her bare hands, to beg them to reconsider, to make them think of all the lives that will be lost, but all she could do was sit still like a statue, her knuckles white against the armrest. She watched, helpless, the Assembly leave. Satori was the last one out, and she threw Gella a triumphant look. “We’ll meet again in the battlefield, General,” she said and slipped out.
Teo filled a cup with wine, took a sip and grimaced. He threw a handful of dates inside the cup and swirled a finger into the liquid. “You shouldn’t have let them leave. The city would fall much quicker without its leaders.”
“They’re envoys,” she snarled. “And the city was ready to fall without a fight.” She took a deep breath to steady her nerves, but failed to do so. “What were you thinking?” she yelled at him and banged her fist on the table. “They were ready to surrender! Why did you have to ruin everything?”
He stared at her and took a sip. “You’re weak, General. If you let them live now as if nothing had happened, what sort of message would that send everyone?”
“That we’re trustworthy and forgiving! The war would be over in a week!”
“And it would start again in a month. Or a year. People need to fear you, not love you. Fear is the only thing people respect.”
“Are you mad? We need to win these people over, not slaughter them! This will only ensure that every city from now on will fight us.”
“You’re wrong. They’ll see what we did to Ephia and surrender immediately.”
“These are people you’re playing with, real lives!”
“The needs of the many, and all that.” He grinned at her. “I can’t believe I have to tell you this. Didn’t they teach you anything at the academy?”
“They taught us honour, not murder.”
&nbs
p; He leaned closer to her, his face almost touching hers. “Is that what they taught you at Scorpio, too? Oh, but I forgot: they kicked you out of there, didn’t they? For stealing, was it? How appropriate, for the woman who stole another woman’s husband. Where was your honour then?” He leaned away from her ashen face and sighed. “Oh well, I guess that’s why I’m Cyrus’s right hand and you’re just a soldier. Why don’t you go win us this battle instead of whining like a little girl?”
Without waiting for an answer, he emptied the cup on the ground and strolled out, leaving her trembling with impotent rage.
September 306 AL
City of Oras
Lehmor
Stripet had always been a warrior. His tribe’s fate weighed heavily on him, Lehmor reflected. The man’s conflicting thirst for vengeance and redemption made him easy to manipulate, but Lehmor was a chief’s son. His father had led the Wind Warriors all is life, just like Moirah’s father had led the Fire clan. Lehmor had no thirst for glory and battle; what he sought right now was information. So, he had tried to gain Stripet’s trust in the few months since his recovery, obeying his every command without a question.
All this was passing through his mind when Stripet asked him for a second time: “Seriously, a servant? Don’t you know what that means around here?”
“No, what?” Although he attended daily classes with Oran, Lehmor still had some free time. He had asked Stripet if he could work as a servant for the Iota; a question that made Stripet choke with laughter.
Stripet shook his head. “It’s not important. Anyway, why? I mean, you’re a chief’s son. A warrior.”
Lehmor gave him an innocent smile. “That was before. I’m ready to move on now. A near-death experience does that.”
“A near-death experience… Look at you using big words. When we first met, you could barely string a sentence together.”
“And you were always eloquent, yet full of crap.”
Stripet’s eyes popped, then his boisterous laughter filled the hall. Lehmor needed Stripet to trust him. He suspected everything he said would be reported back to his captors – for this is how he still thought of the Iotas. They may have saved him, but not out of kindness, he was sure. There seemed to be two kinds of Iotas; one was kind and patient, like Oran; the other conspiring and conniving, like the man who had captured him back in the Capital. Until he learned how to tell them apart, he could trust no one.
Pearseus Bundle: The Complete Pearseus Sci-fi/Fantasy Series Page 40
