Bringer of Chaos_Forged in Fire Read online

  Pietas got in his face, holding the terrified gaze. "The verdict is murder of another immortal. The sentence is death in like fashion." He withdrew the knife from his pocket.

  Relief spiked, but faded with a whimper.

  Pietas knew a thousand ways to kill with a knife. None pleasant.

  "No! Don't do this! I'm your father!"

  Had Mahikos savored his children's impotence, his children's begging the way Pietas now savored his? Dark, haunting, brimming with terror. Delicious. "Though I've trotted out your sins as a father for everyone to hear, you are judged today for the murder of Tiklaus. I do not stand before you as your son. I am your executioner." He pressed himself against the accused and angled the knife before his face. "Take a good look. See the rust? The dull edge?"

  Mahikos shut his eyes.

  "Look at it!"

  Face screwed up in fear, the man squinted.

  "When you cut my friend, Father, you used this weapon." In one swift move, he flipped the blade, caught it in his fist, and rammed it straight into the remorseless pit of his father's heart.

  As the light faded from the man's eyes, Pietas gave the knife one savage twist.

  Chapter Forty-three

  Pietas wiped blood from his face. He relished his victory even as the stench of death rose in his nostrils. Wrapping his arms around the inert body, he lowered it to the floor.

  As one, the panthers surged closer. Their riptide of bloodlust dragged Pietas from the shore of sanity into the churning hatred of berserker rage.

  Pain. Chains. Cages.

  Horrified screams rent the air.

  Blood!

  Pietas grabbed the corpse by one arm and dragged it toward himself and the tribe. They surrounded the body, each member snapping and snarling.

  People shouted. Voices rose. Words mutated into noise.

  A call arose. A plea. A need.

  Blood. Justice. Vengeance.

  He tore open the man's shirt.

  The tribe cried out all at once.

  Jagged pain ripped through his left leg. He clutched it. He'd taken no wound yet he recognized the pain--a vicious kick. An Ultra had kicked one of the tribe.

  Someone gripped Pietas by the arms, dragged him up, away.

  No! Bad! Bad!

  The tribe converged on whoever held him. They dropped him again, screaming.

  The moment Pietas was released, Tiklaus and the tribe surrounded him, licking his face and hands, nudging him toward the body.

  Duty! Blood!

  He crawled back but Koliga had crouched over the corpse, risking bites from hungry jaws. Pietas shoved him but Koliga grabbed onto the body and refused to release it. The man spoke, but the sounds held no meaning.

  Pietas fought to speak, but the tribe's feral mind-link held him captive. He had tribe-words. Blood. Duty. Promise.

  Tiklaus wedged itself beneath his arm. Blood! Duty!

  Pietas gripped the animal's ruff and set his face against its snout. Neither had words: emotion, need, hunger--those ruled.

  Vengeance bound them. Duty to their own kind separated them.

  If he refused the blood-ritual, he lacked tribal honor.

  If he fulfilled the blood-ritual, he lacked Ultra honor.

  Pietas. Joss's thoughts intruded into his. She went down on one knee beside them. Help me understand. What do you need?

  His joining with her weakened his bond with the tribe, yet their clamor for vengeance still inundated. Surely, she saw it. Ritual. Help.

  Her calm became his. Her strength girded his. Her resolve underscored his. You must do this. Right now, their honor is more important than ours. Joss touched his cheek, brushed aside his hair. "Everyone, get back!" She stood, began moving people away. "They won't eat him. It's blood-justice."

  Pietas opened himself to Tiklaus, presented a heart-vow to honor his promise. The link eased, loosened, freed him. Words returned. He motioned to Koliga.

  "Move."

  With a look toward Joss, Koliga climbed off the body and scuttled aside on hands and knees.

  Pietas pressed one hand into the gore on his father's chest, then held out the dripping hand to Tiklaus.

  The panther crept forward, casting glances at the Ultras.

  "They won't stop you. I give you my word."

  The cat came to him.

  "Taste your vengeance." He remained motionless while the big cat licked away the blood.

  The animal ended with a lick on Pietas's wrist and then sat. Blood debt paid, the rancor and ire faded.

  Tiklaus immediately shifted attention to a cat that lay on its side licking a wounded flank. After touching noses, Tiklaus licked its face and glared at Michel.

  The tribe beheld the man as well, ears up, tails out.

  Pietas pushed himself to his feet. "I guess we know who kicked the panther."

  Gaze downcast, Michel remained where he was.

  Pietas approached him. "Why?"

  "I thought they were going to eat him." He still did not look up.

  "You damaged the bond I had with them. It sent them into a frenzy. I nearly lost control."

  Michel peeked up. Eyes the color of dark honey beheld him without fear, but full of shame. The gaze lowered again. "I'm sorry, Pietas."

  "Injuries in the tribe are paid with blood. That panther has the right to draw yours."

  Michel's head popped up, mouth open. "I just wanted them to stop."

  "I didn't understand the need for blood until Mahikos died. They are one. Hurt one, you make enemies of them all. You must appease them."

  Michel lifted one shaking hand and rubbed his face. "If-- If I let him bite me, will that work?"

  "Try."

  "Should I-- Do I have to do anything? Say anything?"

  Pietas took in the tribe, but sensed nothing from them beyond resolution. "Try an apology. They understand."

  Michel dropped to his knees beside the injured panther.

  The cat blinked at him. A sense of forgiveness, of comradeship permeated the air as sweet perfume. The tribe settled, watching. Tiklaus came to Pietas, sat beside him and butted his hand.

  He rubbed the cat's ears.

  "I'm sorry," Michel told the other cat. "I acted without understanding what you needed. I was wrong. You can bite me." Squeezing his eyes shut, he offered his hand.

  The cat leaned closer to Michel, sniffed his palm, then rested its chin in his hand.

  Michel lifted one eyelid, then the other. A smile crossed his face. "He forgave me! Look!" The animal nudged his hand. "I promise." He stroked the cat. "I will never hurt you again."

  The tribe dismissed its agitation all at once. Calm skimmed the room in a wave.

  Tiklaus stretched out, chin on its front paws.

  Held in Dessy's arms, Helia wept while Joss stood beside them.

  Pietas crossed to the women. "Mother."

  His sister motioned for him to wait. "Not now, Pietas."

  His mother hid her face and cried with renewed vigor.

  "Mother--"

  "Not now!" Dessy rocked their mother, sheltering her close. "This is not the time. Let her grieve."

  How could anyone grieve over Mahikos?

  Joss came around from behind the women and took his arm. She led him away a short distance. "She isn't grieving over him."

  Did she hear his every unspoken word? Between her and the ghost, he could have no private thoughts whatsoever.

  "You'll just have to get used to that. Try not to look at her."

  "Used to-- Never mind. Why not?"

  "It's not your father she's grieving over."

  "Then who?"

  "You."

  How was it this woman could speak in riddles and expect him to understand? "What are you talking about? I'm quite alive."

  "Not as she's perceived you. Today, she saw what your father made you."

  "Are you telling me she didn't know I was a killer? Half the galaxy knows that."

  Arms around their mother, Dessy led her from the a
rea.

  "Pietas." Joss linked one arm through his. "She'd never had a personal view before. I was connected to her when you killed him. Your anger--" She squeezed his arm. "It overwhelmed her. I'm sorry, Pietas, but she was terrified."

  "Of me?" He slapped his chest. "Joss! I would never hurt her!"

  "I know." She released him. "But for that instant, she didn't."

  "I need to go to her. Explain."

  She squeezed his arm. "No. You need to let her deal with her emotions. Dessy will be there. You finish what you have to do here." Joss sent him a mental caress. "Perform your duty to Six." She crossed the cavern.

  Pietas took a moment to calm his mind and gather his thoughts.

  When he had, he returned to the body. Lifeless, Mahikos looked small, weak. Not the tyrant who'd towered over him as a child. For one instant, he longed to kick the man as his father had kicked him as a young man. Instead, he bent and yanked out the knife. It dripped with blood.

  "Six, will you come here, please?"

  His friend picked his way around the others. When the ghost reached Pietas, Tiklaus walked around the human, sniffing his legs. Though Six kept an eye on the animal, he showed less fear than he had before. The cat sat at Six's feet and wrapped a tail around his legs. It gave Pietas a serene blink.

  Six lifted one hand, hesitated, and then gave Tiklaus a single pat. The panther arched beneath the ghost's hand.

  "Well, well. Looks like you're the pet now."

  "Very funny." Six patted the cat again. "Nice kitty."

  Tiklaus sneezed.

  Six yanked back his hand. Keeping an eye on the cat, he sidestepped. "Look, Pi, I'm sorry you had to do that to your dad. I know he deserved it and you had to, but--" Wincing, he looked up. "I'm just...sorry."

  "Thank you, my friend, but that man was never my dad, merely a sadistic drill instructor. How like you to have pity on a man who would have killed you without a second thought." As he, himself, would have done at one time. He took no pride in the realization. When everyone looked their way, Pietas placed the bloody knife across his palms and offered it. "By our law, you have no right to address Mahikos in trial, but as a warrior, you have the right to wear your enemy's blood."

  His back rigid, Six looked from the knife to Pietas.

  "Mira, Six. Watch." Holding the weapon in one hand, he motioned bringing the blade across his own chest like a sash. "It's not required. The point is to remind your enemy you bested him. You won. It'll dry as black as the mask I wear. Whether you wear his blood or not, this is yours to keep. But I'd sharpen it first." He offered the weapon again.

  "Bested, huh?" Six accepted the knife and dragged it from his own left shoulder toward his right hip, once for each side of the blade. Scarlet smeared his chest. He stuck the knife in his belt and then crossed his arms, head held high.

  Pietas gave a nod.

  Armand and Philippe were on their knees petting a panther.

  He crossed to them. "You two pulled me away, didn't you? It was you they attacked."

  The twins looked up. Armand nodded. "This one--"

  "--attacked," Philipped concluded.

  "Were you hurt?"

  "Fine." Armand responded. "The cat--"

  "--is our friend," Philippe finished. They both continued petting the panther, which licked each of their faces in turn.

  Even at a distance, the bond forming among the three had a tangible presence. How appropriate that one panther chose to bond with them both.

  A guttural cry meant his father had entered the burning agony of rebirth. "Good. He's reviving."

  The man writhed, grimacing. Mahikos never made an attempt to shield others from his suffering. How weak. He displayed pain as if it were a badge of honor, instead of shame.

  Six sucked air over his teeth. "Geez, that must hurt."

  "Rebirth is worse than electrocution. Humans think because we come back from death, dying doesn't matter. They have no idea."

  Mahikos cried out. He never had been good at bearing pain, only dishing it out.

  "How long does this go on?"

  "Rebirth?" Pietas wiped his hands on his shirt, but it was bloody as well. "Until after midnight."

  "Really? Geez! It didn't take you that long. In the pod or after you came out of it."

  "Pardon?" He drew back.

  "You died so many times during the voyage. I lost count, but you never thrashed around."

  "Six." He leaned in closer, lowering his voice. "Did I cry out?"

  "You?" Six swore. "Never! But I felt it every time you died. At first, I thought the ship was haunted."

  "Haunted?"

  "My skin crawled worse than passing a graveyard in the dark at midnight." He shuddered. "Wasn't till I realized you were awake in that pod that I put two and two together and realized I was feeling you die."

  "I had no idea you could feel that. I'm sorry."

  "What could you do about it? Worst thing I ever experienced. Knowing you went through that, over and over because I was 'doing my job' as a ghost."

  "Six!" Pietas clutched a fist over his heart. "You mustn't blame yourself. The traitors who locked you in with me--they're responsible for what we both suffered. I'm glad it was you I ended up with, but I'm sorry they betrayed you in order to betray me."

  "No way, Pi." The man held up his smallest finger, measuring the tip of its dirty nail with the other hand. "That much. That's how much honor they have compared to you. You owe me no kind of apology. No kind whatsoever."

  How he treasured this man. He would never get over the luck of gaining such a beloved friend from the ranks of such a hated enemy.

  Six adjusted the hang of the knife in his belt. "Do I ever want to go through that again? No. A hundred times no. Him, though?" He jerked his head toward the body on the floor. "Whole other story."

  "So you don't have the same feeling now? You're not experiencing his death?"

  "No. Maybe I ought to feel sorry for him, but I'm having trouble doing that."

  He tapped Six's chest. "Don't lose sleep over any pain he suffers. He deserves worse."

  "Go clean up, Ultra." He made a face. "You're covered in his blood. Got to stink."

  Pietas chuckled despite the situation. "Yes, it does." He held up filthy hands, pulled out his shirt and examined it. "I need a shower. Like to burn these clothes."

  Six patted a pocket. "Firestarter's handy. I'll help." He popped over to his backpack, which rested near the cave wall, and returned with the metal box holding their last sliver of soap. "Gonna take scrubbing to get that off your skin."

  In truth, his skin would slough off any foreign matter but he didn't have the heart to spoil his friend's generous gift. He accepted the box and gave Six a quick bow.

  "Finished?" Joss took his hand. "We can visit that waterfall and bathe."

  Six lifted one eyebrow. "We?"

  Joss gestured between herself and Pietas. "This we."

  The man's mouth twisted. "Spoilsport."

  She shot Six a bemused look. "Ready, Pietas?"

  He accompanied her to the exit.

  "Pi!"

  He paused and turned back to Six.

  The ghost turned toward Mahikos. "You're just gonna leave him there?"

  He puzzled over the question. "He's being punished."

  "Punished. So that's justice to Ultras? You kill him and then let him flop around and suffer?"

  "Told you." Pietas grinned at Joss. "He's a softie."

  Six motioned to himself. "Standing right here. I can hear you."

  Joss tapped Pietas on the chin. "I think he's sweet."

  He snorted. "You would."

  "You two can see me, right? I'm not an actual ghost."

  "Tiklaus." Pietas stooped. When the cat came to him, Pietas went down on one knee. "My friend, will you keep watch over Six while I'm away?"

  The panther nose-bumped his chin.

  "Thank you." He stroked the panther, meeting Six's gaze. "He needs protecting."

  His friend mad
e a comical face. "Whatever."

  "We won't be back tonight." Pietas stood and took Joss's hand. "Get some rest. In the morning, Father stands another trial."

  "Another one?" Six swore under his breath. "Wasn't that enough payback?"

  Pietas scoffed. "Certainly not. I owe him far more vengeance than I can unload in one killing. But tomorrow, he'll account for a worse crime."

  "What's worse than murder?"

  "We have no hope of leaving this world for many lifetimes. Centuries. He knew it would happen. He planned it. He marooned us here so he could be king."

  Mahikos twitched and drooled. One by one, the Councilmembers looked down at the man with disgust.

  Pietas made a dismissive gesture toward his father. "At his next trial, it won't be me he has to face."

  Chapter Forty-four

  Pietas stripped and carried his bloodied clothing into the cold pond. Once he was knee deep, he stopped and drew a deep, calming breath, letting the peace of the moment sink into him.

  Like a thousand quiet children whispering, the fall of water softened the chirp of crickets. Above, the glimmering stars shone down on a world made gray by the rising moon. Its light cast lengthening shadows, turning the waterfall into a slice of silver on inky velvet.

  He held the bloodstained shirt and pants--long since borrowed from Six--beneath the numbing water. The falls beat the soil and blood from his skin. He angled the shirt this way and that, but the bloodstain's outline remained. Soap might help, but why waste it on himself? The small metal box sat untouched on a boulder back on the pond's edge.

  Joss, who had stopped by the camp to pick up strips of cloth to use as towels, arrived and waved to him. She set down her bundle, stripped off her uniform and draped it over a big round boulder. Nude, she waded toward him.

  If she hadn't been a warrior, she'd have been a brilliant dancer. Full of grace, lithe, supple, smooth, she possessed generous curves in all the right places. The dimming light deepened her body's shadows.

  Halfway to him, she hesitated, turned around and went back. Pulling at a fastener in her hair, she worked it through tangled golden curls and tucked it into a pocket on her uniform.