Bringer of Chaos Page 23

  At the sound of falling water, Pietas sought its source, wending in and around trees and fallen logs. Bird calls increased as the sound heightened. A cool mist enveloped him long before he found the source. A forest pond and waterfall burst into view all at once.

  "Look, Six, a--" Pietas silenced himself. He'd spoken out of habit, accustomed to having the human at his side, sharing every detail of every day. He'd soon break himself of that.

  Tiklaus slunk into view and approached the pool's edge. It drank, waded into the liquid and watched a moment. With a snap, it pulled out a fish and carried the wiggling creature up onto the bank. The cat chewed off the head and finished the rest in three bites.

  Shorter than the falls in which he bathed, this one cascaded over rocks the size of a small shuttlecraft and plunged into a clear pool so blue it rivaled the sky. A riot of plants grew around it; huge purple flowers with yellow centers that stuck out at crazy angles, a bird-of-paradise-type plant in electric blue, and a tumble of bright pink blossoms shaped like bells. Clustered in such a small area, the surfeit of floral scent glutted his senses.

  Turquoise-backed hummingbirds skittered in and out. In the trees, birds chirped and called. One made a plaintive weet-weet-weet that resembled a fire drill aboard ship. Another answered with the whoo-oop-whoo-oop of a collision alert. Were they mimicking sounds heard aboard a ship? Had they been transported as part of terraforming?

  He'd have to ask his mother about protocols.

  Thinking of her brought Six's words back to mind. He shoved the loathsome memory back out again.

  Tiklaus padded up to him and dropped a fish at his feet. The shiny bluish-green creature flopped around on matted grass. Two jagged tears opened its middle, thanks to the cat's fangs. It would die whether Pietas ate it or not.

  He withdrew his knife, picked up the fish, and sliced off its head. He tossed that to the panther, who caught and downed it in one snap. Pietas removed the tail and dropped it.

  Tiklaus gave it a sniff and gulped it down. After a healthy sneeze, the panther sat and groomed itself.

  The rest Pietas cleaned and ate raw. He'd grown used to uncooked fish while hiking with--

  No. He banished the name.

  Staying outside the falls' splash zone, he washed his hands, cupped them and took a drink. Making a face at the fishy taste, he stripped. After hanging his clothes on a bush, he stepped into the frigid water and ducked under the short falls.

  He climbed out, thoroughly chilled but clean. After sluicing off water, he squeezed as much out of his hair as he could reach. The dry pants stuck to his wet body but once he'd pulled them on, he set his feet apart, and took a deep breath.

  Tiklaus sat nearby, alert, watching.

  Pietas counted to twenty, breathing in and out, slowly, evenly. Relaxed, he brought fist to palm in a warrior's salute. The flat, mossy ground around him afforded plenty of room. The heavy shade and twining plants imparted calm, quiet.

  Shifting his weight, he centered himself. He dropped his hands, turned them palms down and drew them up slowly before him, leading with his wrists. At shoulder height, he opened his hands palm outward and drew them back. He visualized a large ball of blue energy before him, cupped his hands around it, and pushed it, taking his time, thinking of form during the move.

  With no more speed or force than falling snow, he eased through the meditative routine, each step as familiar as his own heartbeat. Like snowflakes, each layer built on the last, adding weight and power. A relentless fall of snow would cover mountains.

  When he finished, his mind was at rest and his thoughts at ease. It had been too long since he'd practiced. The energy now residing within him had balance, harmony. He should teach it to Six.

  He groaned. That intolerable human invaded every aspect of his life!

  Calm ended, Pietas snatched up his shirt and donned it. The canteen Joss had given him was empty, so he filled it from the falls. The liquid had no taste, simply a clean feel on the tongue. He drank the entire contents, refilled it and clipped it to a belt loop. If he'd had this canteen while crossing--

  "Stop it!"

  He would not think about the long trip with-- He clenched his hands.

  He needed control. Pietas braced himself against the driest side of a moss-covered boulder and focused on the clamor of birds and water. Though not tall, the falls sent sheets of water in strong rivulets, beating itself upon rocks below as if determined to shatter them. Where it frothed at the edges, the bubbles popped with the faraway tinkle of children's laughter.

  An alien sound.

  He'd never laughed as a child. His father had forbidden such nonsense and even his mother warned him and his sister not to laugh. "Don't get into the habit. You might slip up when your father can hear you." They'd both taken pains to avoid laughing. He might be amused now and then, but laugh?

  Not until he'd met---

  He groaned in frustration. Why must every recollection bring up that name?

  Laughter was overrated anyway. A human weakness. He needed none of it. Pietas tore himself away and trudged back the way he'd come.

  By the time he approached camp, the afternoon sun sent prickles of heat over his back and shoulders. He stopped at the lower waterfall to refill his now-empty canteen and take a drink. Once he'd filled it again, he washed his face.

  Tiklaus, who'd remained at his side, lapped water. The tribe sent up a howl, and the cat streaked off, racing up the hill.

  Pietas climbed the slope.

  Everyone had gathered around the campfire. As one, they looked at him.

  Six stood to the left of Joss. Beside her sat Armand and Philippe. Arrayed in the center, Erryq, with her flaming red hair contrasted with Marjo's and Koliga's dark skin. Dessy and his mother took up the far right.

  Bloated and swollen from the beating, his father sat at Helia's feet and leaned against her. Bruises the color of old eggplant splotched his battered face.

  "Pietas!" His mother braced both hands on her hips. "How could you let them do this to your father?"

  Half turned away, Six refused to meet his gaze.

  Joss covered her mouth with both hands.

  Heads bowed, the twins did not so much as glance at him.

  Dessy folded her arms.

  "Well?" his mother demanded. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

  Mahikos tipped back his head, looked down his nose at Pietas, and eased into a leisurely smile rampant with smug contempt.

  Chapter Fifty-one

  While his mother continued to berate him, Pietas remained calm, focused on the enemy at her feet, the serpent who'd whispered temptations in her ear. Mahikos had sullied her. Pushed her back to his own side and into bondage to his lies.

  No matter.

  Pietas was here now. He would save her.

  He might be damaged but he'd survived. Nothing could destroy him. Nothing could stop him from saving his mother from this tyrant.

  Again, his mother demanded he answer her.

  He endured her rebuke and continued to observe his father. Look away from the cold eyes of that snake? Never.

  "Pietas!" Helia screamed his name like a curse word. "Answer me!"

  He would give no reason for allowing that fiend to suffer. The man deserved worse. Far worse.

  That demon she called lover had deceived her. Used her. Twisted her heart. Set her against her own son.

  For that, Mahikos would pay with his immortal life.

  I will end him.

  "I said answer me!"

  He remained silent.

  Helia stepped out from behind Mahikos. "Don't you dare ignore me, Pietas ap Lorectic! Look at me! Don't you dare disrespect me. You answer your mother!"

  He changed his focus, then. If she knew him, she'd know silence marked his nimble mind at work, seeking the best angle, the best offense, the best chance for his lightning-fast reflexes to home in on the prey.

  Patience rewards the hunter.

  Low rumbling behind him meant the
panther tribe had arrived. Seconds later, Tiklaus brushed up against his hand, then sauntered closer to the other Ultras and gave one short, barking huff.

  Pretosia rose from its place and nudged Helia's hand. Without a backward glance, it followed Tiklaus.

  "No..." Lifting a shaking hand, Helia took a faltering step after the small panther. "No one is loyal anymore."

  Shaking her head, Dessy turned away.

  Helia dragged a scathing look down Pietas's frame, whirled around and took a place beside Mahikos.

  The man held up an unhealed, twisted hand.

  Helia accepted it and stood behind him.

  "Forget him." Mahikos's voice grated like metal scraping across rock. The twins had crushed his esophagus and it hadn't healed yet. "That boy's always been a failure." A retching cough tore from his throat. "And a coward."

  His mother looked straight at Pietas. Her silence said more than words.

  Mahikos turned Helia's palm toward him and kissed the center. "I should destroy him and breed you with another. This time, you might give me a child worth rearing. I'll just have to keep you pregnant until you do."

  Like a panther's claws, a storm of black fury shredded every scrap of control. No sound, no taste, no smell.

  One duty.

  One focus.

  One target.

  Pietas wrapped his hands around Mahikos's throat and slammed him into the ground, bashed the man's head into the rock.

  The hated snake eyes bulged, staring up in stark terror. Unhealed broken hands slapped uselessly. The twisted mouth contorted, gasping. Veins popped up on the red face.

  Pietas accepted the pain tearing through his shoulders, down into his arms. Welcomed it as an old friend. Let it drive him.

  He drew back one hand, stiffened his fingers and jammed them like a spear into the throat beneath him.

  Again. Again. And again.

  Hot blood spewed into his face.

  He punctured skin. Jabbed flesh. Tore muscle. Ripped sinew. Gripped bone.

  The world went black.

  Chapter Fifty-two

  The sound of a waterfall soothed Pietas in sleep. The warm softness beneath him offered rest. He relaxed on his mother's lap. She stroked his hair. He breathed easier, knowing she held him.

  As children, he and Dessy sometimes lay on either side of her, their heads on her lap. When they weren't allowed to go outside, they'd take turns using the gift of illusion to create images for one another. His sister would conjure the likenesses of birds, while he favored dragons.

  The image of a bloody throat and screaming face jolted him awake. He opened his eyes under a clear sky.

  "Shh." His mother pressed a cool cloth to his face.

  He gripped her hand. When he levered himself into a sitting position, darkness closed in like a nightmarish tunnel. He held still for some time, aware she spoke but unaware what she was saying. When the blackness receded a bit, the world swam into focus.

  It had not been his mother at all, but the petite Erryq. Her fiery tumble of red hair shone in the sunlight. None of her cute sassiness showed. She sat with hands folded, placid, demure, better behaved than he had ever seen her.

  His head ached as if he'd slept on solid stone instead of a pleasant lap. "I dreamed-- There was-- Was any of that real?"

  "You mean killing Mahikos?"

  He nodded and an instant stab of pain made him regret it. "Feels like someone clobbered me."

  "Sorry."

  Intending to massage his neck, he reached up but pain in his shoulders stopped him. Bracing his back on a boulder, Pietas struggled to his feet. Splinters of hot pain shot through his head. Darkness blanketed his vision. Nauseated, he bent at the waist.

  "Pietas, here!" Erryq, who barely reached his chest, wrapped an arm around him. "Lean on me. You shouldn't be up. Joss says you have a skull fracture. She's hoping it's just a concussion but it looks bad. She said it would've killed a human. You're supposed to rest."

  "I can manage." His knees buckled. Bracing himself between the boulder and Erryq, he sat. Taking shallow breaths eased the nausea. Nothing assuaged the headache. He leaned back against the stone, wincing when his wound touched it. "Who cracked my skull?"

  "Sorry."

  "Stop apologizing."

  "Sor-- I mean, yes, sir."

  "Who hit me?"

  "Me. I'm sorry, Pietas. I didn't mean to hit you so hard."

  "You?" Concentrating made the pain worse. He rubbed the space between his eyes. "I had no idea you possessed that kind of strength. Was it a sledgehammer?"

  "Rock." The tiny woman looked everywhere but at him. "Sorry."

  "Stop apologizing."

  "Sor-- Yes, sir. I'm sorry. I'm trying. I just-- I'm sorry." She covered her mouth.

  He closed his eyes. "Where's my father?"

  "Um... He's-- He's um..."

  He forced his eyelids up. "Erryq, I'm not going to kill him again. At least, not today. Where is he?"

  "With Dessy and your mother in the cavern."

  He leaned forward, head in hands. "Is he perma-dead?" He held his breath, hoping. When she didn't answer, he met her gaze.

  She gave one negative shake.

  Six's favorite swear word came to mind, but Pietas refused to voice it. "How big was it?"

  She squinted at him. "How big was-- Oh! You mean...the rock? That big." She indicated a size wider than her two hands. "I'm sor-- I mean... I didn't-- I wasn't trying to hit you that hard. I just-- I panicked. I'm sorry."

  What irony. The unstoppable Bringer of Chaos laid low by a petite woman with a big rock.

  "Pietas? How do you feel?"

  "Don't worry about me."

  "Joss told me if you said that, it meant I should."

  How well the woman knew him. "No need. Although it doesn't feel like it this minute, I assure you, I'll live." He took care leaning back against the boulder.

  "Pietas, lie down. Put your head on my lap. I'm softer."

  He hesitated, but pain drove him to accept. "Thank you." He stretched out again and turned so he faced away from her. "Much softer."

  She stroked his hair without going near the injury. "Everyone was trying to pull you off him but no one could get a good grip. Armand and Philippe tried to keep them from stopping you. They wanted him dead. Your shoulders and arms must be killing you."

  His shoulders ached all the time. Nothing new. He pushed up his sleeves. Bruises ran the entire length of both arms. "I wish you hadn't stopped me. I meant to perma-kill him."

  "Your mother was hysterical. She kept begging us to stop you." Erryq drew back the hair on his forehead and placed a cool compress there. "I'm sorry, Pietas. I panicked and grabbed the rock. I didn't mean to hit you so hard."

  "Stop apologizing, Erryq. You were doing your duty. I don't hold it against you."

  "You don't? Really?"

  "You carried out duty with honor. I respect that. You need fear nothing from me."

  She squeezed his shoulder.

  It hurt, but if he said so, she'd apologize again. He closed his eyes against the brilliant spots filling his vision, but it did nothing to block the spectacle of light.

  "You shouldn't sleep. That's what Joss said but maybe it would help you."

  "No, it wouldn't." He asked the question nagging him. "Did the ghost try to stop me?"

  "No. He kept clear of everyone. But he looked--" She didn't continue.

  "He looked what?"

  "Scared. Like he'd never seen you kill before."

  "Oh, he'd seen me kill. I took out seven of his comrades before I came for him."

  "Not like that. Not in frenzy. I'd never seen you lose it like that and I've been with you in a fight. All of us together couldn't stop you." She stroked his hair. "You were magnificent."

  Magnificent. Not the word he'd have used. "You stopped me."

  "The rock stopped you. I just held it. I hated having to hit you."

  He patted her hand. "I'll live. Where's the ghost now?"

 
; "Helping the others move two pods up to the upper chamber."

  His eyes sprang open. "Why? Whose?"

  "Armand and Philippe. After what they did, your mother said she didn't trust them."

  "That's ridiculous!" He pushed himself up, but nausea swamped him. Bright sparkles appeared. Gingerly, he put his head back down. "They did nothing wrong."

  "Where is he?" His mother's voice, distant, carried urgency. "Where have you put my son?"

  He forced himself to a seated position.

  "Pietas, don't." Erryq tugged at his arm. "You need to rest. You're in pain."

  "Stop it." He pushed her hand away. "Pain is my ally."

  "But, Pietas--"

  "I can't let Mother see me like this. I have to be strong. She needs me." He pushed himself against the boulder, and clinging to it, got to his feet. His stomach lurched but he ignored it.

  Joss's voice carried to him, too low for him to understand the words. His mother answered, her tone strident, angry.

  Had pain altered his perception? He could understand none of what they said.

  Erryq pleaded with him but he blocked out her words. If his mother needed him, he must go to her.

  "Helia, please, don't!" Joss's voice came through clearly, from close by. "He's grievously wounded."

  How could Joss say such a thing? He was an Ultra. A warrior! An Ultra did not need protecting. One did not coddle a warrior. Tend to wounds, yes. But fuss over him?

  Never.

  "Joss, move. I want to see my son for myself."

  "Listen to me. This isn't the time. Let him rest."

  Pietas braced himself against rock, forcing open his eyes. Light filled his vision. Sparkles danced into view. He wiped involuntary tears.

  Weak. Weak!

  "Joss, get out of my way!"

  If his mother was taking time to see him, he must not let her see him falter. He must eradicate every vestige of weakness. He stood straight. He must not look weak. Not before her.

  Where were his things? This room held no tables. No chairs. Nowhere to sit. "Erryq, where are the chairs?"

  "The what?" She squeezed his arm. "Pietas, your eyes look odd. The pupils aren't the same size. You need to sit down."