Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Chapter Thirty-four
Chapter Thirty-five
Chapter Thirty-six
Chapter Thirty-seven
Chapter Thirty-eight
Chapter Thirty-nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-one
Chapter Forty-two
Chapter Forty-three
Chapter Forty-four
Chapter Forty-five
Chapter Forty-six
Chapter Forty-seven
Chapter Forty-eight
Chapter Forty-nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-one
Chapter Fifty-two
Chapter Fifty-three
Epilogue
Bringer of Chaos:
Forged in Fire
Book 2 in the
Bringer of Chaos Series
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Kayelle Allen
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Table of Contents
The Ultras
Human: synonym for oath breaker
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Chapter Thirty-four
Chapter Thirty-five
Chapter Thirty-six
Chapter Thirty-seven
Chapter Thirty-eightch39
Chapter Thirty-nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-one
Chapter Forty-two
Chapter Forty-three
Chapter Forty-four
Chapter Forty-five
Chapter Forty-six
Chapter Forty-seven
Chapter Forty-eight
Chapter Forty-nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-one
Chapter Fifty-two
Chapter Fifty-three
Epilogue
Bonus Section
Bonus: the Forged in Fire lyrics
Bringer of Chaos: the Origin of Pietas
The End -- or is it?
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Cover and Copyright
Disclaimers
Before You Say Good-bye...
Dedication
This book is dedicated to Lisa Lowe, my social media assistant, who did copious amounts of work behind the scenes so I had time to write.
To my supportive and encouraging critique group, Canton Writer's Circle (Lisa Haman, Elizabeth Strickland, Patricia McCabe Cook, Loretta, and Jordan) who read through the book as I wrote it and helped me hone it and create a meaningful story -- thank you times infinity. You rock!
Thank you to Houston Havens who taught me how to see the emotion behind the characters.
It's also dedicated to my beta readers Jean and Barbara with sincere thanks for all their words of praise and criticism -- good and bad. I need it!
To Jamin Allen, the talented artist who inspires me with new images for Pietas and all the places my imagination takes me.
My son Joel who helped with much of the science behind the ship and its immortals.
To Nik Nitsvetov, the cosplayer / photographer whose image graces the cover of Endure, Illustrated Quotes of Pietas -- thank you for your incredible work. Follow Nik on Instagram. He's amazing. https://www.instagram.com/nitsvetov/
And always, always and forever, to my husband, who supports me one hundred percent. I love you. I couldn't do this without you.
To my dear Pietas
I apologize for revealing in this book that you are noble and can be kind. I understand you prefer to be hated and feared because you know how to handle those emotions. But I could not hide the truth. Now that I have walked in your shoes, you are no longer alone. Thank you for opening your heart. I will always honor you.
~ Kayelle
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The Ultras
In the Terran Crescent, home of mankind, Ultras--human-like, genetically enhanced and effectively immortal--were a boon. Ultra scientists eliminated disease and implemented incredible advances in science, technology, manufacturing, and space travel. Ultra warriors advanced mankind's territory and kept its borders safe.
Ultras served without choice, bound by genetic shackles.
When the slave-race learned how to overthrow those shackles and take command, they became mankind's greatest threat. By 4501 AD, Ultras dominated the galaxy.
One faction conspired against the others.
Hiding among humans as humans, they manipulated their Ultra brethren into peace talks. On an isolated starport in the central part of the galaxy, they captured the High Council and Pietas, its Chancellor.
Holding the leaders hostage, the traitors duped half a million loyal Ultras into surrendering, and then transported them across the galaxy to an undeveloped planet.
They exiled walking weapons who could never die.
Left them to survive under the most primitive conditions, and then...
Forgot them.
Big, big mistake.
Human: synonym for oath breaker
A foreword from Pietas
You're human. Lies are your nature.
Truth is mine. Honoring my word means more to me than life.
Humans are craven, contemptible and reprehensible supplanters of power. You lack the truth.
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Traitors among my kind lied to you. They concealed themselves among you and claimed we were myth. They fed you false hope. Told you you were safe. Lulled you into complacent ignorance. Manipulated, confused, and desensitized you.
You chose to believe their lies.
You've heard tales of visitors from outer space. Stories of aliens who walk among you. You called them urban legends, myths, tall tales for the campfire, untrue.
You refused to believe the truth.
This book relates my tale but is not from my point of view. Call it Science Fiction, but it happened. I exist. My dimension is not yours. You have not been aware of me--until now--but I know everything about you.
To honor a worthy human friend, I considered sparing humanity. I have since seen the folly of blanket exemption. Not all of you deserve to die, but there are requirements for being protected. Will I choose you?
I offer no guarantee. Your fate is a bequest no one can usurp.
Believe me.
Read this, if you dare to know the truth.
~ Pietas
Chapter One
Sempervia, outer edge of the galaxy
Terran year 4536 AD
Sempervian year 1
Would this incessant nightmare of darkness never end? The steaming, lightless rainforest stank of alien spores and enough flowers to choke the dead. Let the rescue party inhale, but this cloying scent left a sickening taste in his mouth. Pietas gagged, but controlled his stomach.
Barefoot, he slipped and slid on wet undergrowth but kept moving. His body had acclimated to the high altitude less than an hour into the climb. Ultras adapted, adopted, and attacked, but accept this reek of blossoms?
Never.
The four immortals and one human trailing him were still in sight, but not close. What irony. The search party had been sent to locate him, yet here he was leading them back to a place he'd never been. Joss, the chosen leader of the party, had no sense of direction. Why had they let her lead them in the first place?
At this rate, they'd spend yet another night in this godsforsaken forest and he'd be no closer to being reunited with his people.
Ahead, blackish green gave way to jade and teal. He slowed, unsure, at first, of his eyes. The lighter colors meant one thing.
Sunshine.
Within ten steps, the dense canopy of trees thinned, revealing stubby wheat-colored grass in full sun. How far to the summit?
Exhilaration fluttered at his heart, teasing him with possibilities.
To free his mother and his people, he'd endured entrapment in a crucible more agonizing than any living being should ever experience. For over a year he'd missed them, longed for their presence and the comfort of their touch. Now he would see them again. He bolted forward, but came to an abrupt halt.
He would also see his father.
Mahikos, whose love for humans had gotten the Ultras into disastrous peace talks resulting in their exile on this planet.
The sudden tightness of breath had nothing to do with elevation. Pietas ignored his roiling stomach and slammed a lid on his emotions. Over nineteen hundred years old, yet facing his father cast him into the same twisted fear he'd experienced in childhood. He must allow the man no sway.
Straightening his shoulders, he held his head erect. Dressed in rags he might be, but he commanded the mightiest army in the galaxy.
Pietas ap Lorectic, First Conqueror, War Leader of the Ultras, Chancellor of the High Council, bowed in fear to no one.
No one.
He centered himself by repeating his mantra. "An Ultra does not seek to escape pain. If one inflicts pain, one must bear it. Pain is a warrior's ally." Despite the thinner air near the summit, he broke into a run.
He burst into the welcome light, squinting and shielding his face. After hours tramping through deep shadow, the noonday heat caressed his head and shoulders like a friend, hoped for but long lost.
The summit lay a good distance ahead, but they had left the forest. Scant grasses and scrubby bushes dotted the landscape. He pushed further up the mountain, where hand over hand, he climbed up among black boulders. Their pockmarked texture stung his palms but did no harm to his feet. He'd hiked half the planet barefoot. Panting from the quick exertion, he turned to take in the view.
Across plains to the east, low-scudding clouds skimmed a fringe of mountains, no more than blue smudges on the horizon. Their white tips implied great height. North, the lazy river he and the human had followed from its source snaked its way across the savannah, a necklace of shimmering gold. The path took seconds to trace with his gaze but had taken them weeks to walk. As it wended its way further south, the confluence of its mighty waters with another river turned its gold to muddy brown.
What worried him were the sheets of gray in the northwest. A storm marched straight toward them. The heavy, pelting rain on Sempervia so saturated the air one could drown on land.
They did not dare let it catch them in the open. They needed to cross the summit and reach shelter.
He braced both hands on his knees. How galling to need a break. He'd hiked less than five hours. Was he no better than a mortal?
Before his exile, Pietas would have run--not walked--up this mountain without a single pause. When mortals and traitors among his kind imprisoned him in an unpowered life pod and left him to rot for over a year, it broke his health and shattered his stamina.
Had it not been for his friend, Six, what sanity Pietas possessed would have been as beaten and battered as dirt clods trampled in a horse paddock. Though unable to free Pietas, Six had stayed with him day and night, talking, whistling, singing songs, sharing life and light through his tales.
Long after Pietas could no longer respond.
Broken in body as he was, his will, determination, and drive survived intact, as had his undying thirst for revenge.
No doubt his enemies thought to teach him a lesson. Having endured the worst they could muster, he'd learned there was no pain he could not bear, no matter how horrific. One day, he'd return the favor and teach them.
Down the mountain, his sister, Dessy, staggered into the sunshine. An equally unsteady Joss stumbled after her. The two female immortals plopped onto the ground with all the grace of drunken gazelles.
Behind them came the twins, Armand and Philippe, their massive height and girth impressive even from above. Armand squatted beside Dessy while his twin remained standing, alert and on watch.
Last to reach sunlight was Six, the ghost.
Not a phantom or aetheric creature, but a member of Ghost Corps. A human who'd died and been resurrected by infusing his body with Ultra blood. Transformed into a quasi-immortal with enough strength to perma-kill Pietas or another immortal. And ironically, the closest friend Pietas had ever had in his entire unceasing, solitary life.
Without slowing his pace, Six skirted around Philippe, trudged up the hill toward Pietas and joined him atop the rocks. He, too, shielded his eyes.
He'd grown lean and ragged over the weeks they'd hiked the planet. Both of them had. No matter how much fish they caught, or what wild fruits they found, there was not enough to gain weight. Like Pietas, Six had no beard, a result of his transformation. His naturally brown skin had grown browner while they tramped in the sun. His dark hair had grown at a human pace and curled over his ears.
Pietas, who could not tan or sunburn, had grown blonder. He'd cut his hair not long after their arrival on Sempervia, but already, it hung halfway down his back. He wore it tied behind him to keep it out of his face.
"Pi, look at this view!"
The nickname irked. He'd asked Six to drop it, to no avail. Pee-ah-toss, he ranted in silence. Not Pi. Pee-ah-toss.
"I can hear you thinking. You know that, right?"
Then you know what I'm thinking now.
"Same to you, Ultra. Besides, you call me Six. I call you Pi. Suits you."
"Six is an integer. Pi is an irrational number."
The man shot him a smile. "Like I said."<
br />
Pietas rubbed the tight spot between his eyes.
"Hey! There's the river." Six pointed. "What a great vantage point this is. No wonder castles were always built on mountaintops. Talk about your uphill battle, no?"
How like his friend to view the humor in a situation. "True."
"Rain's coming."
"Soon?"
"No." The man bent, brushed his fingertips across tufts of yellowed grass among the rocks and plucked a handful. He tossed it into the air. "Dry. Possible rain doesn't reach up here often. I give it two hours, amigo. Longer, depending on the wind." He sniffed. "Smells different. This'll be a bad one."
"I agree." A gust brought a pleasant, earthy essence along with the ozone scent that preceded a storm on this world. "Change in wind direction from this morning."
Six looked up the hill, then back. "How long till we reach the site?"
"Joss says an hour to the top. Longer if we keep stopping."
"Keep stopping? This is the first you've slowed down since morning. My legs are frayed string." Six slid their canteen off over his head and held it out to Pietas.
Accepting anything from a human, an altered one at that, had violated every instinct at first. To take from an enemy, yes. Always. Let one give you something as if you needed it? Admit a weakness before an enemy?
Never.
But this was Six.
Pietas took it.
Ultras could go days without water, but they consumed it when they had it. He wiped one dusty hand across his mouth. The satisfaction of assuaged thirst never failed to please. What simple things in life brought pleasure! In captivity, he'd dreamed of even a drop to cool his tongue. He'd sworn he'd never take water for granted again.
Six had offered it to their companions during the climb, but the entire lot refused anything a mortal's lips had touched. Yes, Six was a quasi-immortal, but to the others, that gave him even less status.
Pietas wavered on few things, but on this? Should he call the man human, mortal, quasi-immortal, or ghost? He'd elected to choose as the mood struck. But one in particular annoyed Six.
"Thanks, ghost." He thrust the canteen against Six's chest.
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