Bringer of Chaos Page 24

"There's nowhere to sit. Bring in the chairs." He could not welcome his mother in a place like this. "She'll be angry. I can't make her angry."

  "Who, Pietas?"

  He tried to answer, but pain seesawed through his head.

  "There's my little soldier," His mother's voice whispered in his memories. "Soldiers don't cry, do they, Pietas? You're my brave boy, aren't you? Mother is so proud of you."

  He forced himself upright. He couldn't let her see him in this condition.

  When he brushed off his shirt, he found it stiff. Blood had drenched him. He brought up one hand, then the other. Drying brown flakes had caked his hands and under his nails, between his fingers. His father's blood must be all over his face.

  "You're unkempt, Pietas. Don't be such a disappointment."

  He scrubbed at his hands but could not get them clean.

  "Do not come to this table with dirty hands. Dirty children get no supper. Get out of my sight."

  Helia came into view around a boulder, her bright hair like a white flame in the light. How beautiful she was. She wore intelligence like a crown.

  Pietas came to attention. Out of habit, he tried to clasp his hands behind him, but his wounded shoulders allowed no such movement.

  "Mother, I--"

  Her slap almost knocked him to his knees. Pain lanced through his head, stabbing down into his neck and shoulders. Staggering, he fumbled for support against the boulders. He used them to right himself while she railed at him.

  He'd let her see him soiled. Dirty. How angry she must be! He must clean himself up. "Mother, I'm sorry. I hadn't had time to bathe, but I will."

  "You did this! You caused this! You fix it!"

  In his pain-addled state, he struggled to follow her reasoning. The waterfall made its soft roar nearby. He could bathe there. The pounding water wouldn't hurt that bad. He'd suffered far worse.

  "I'll go clean up and--"

  She slapped him again.

  He fell backward. When he cracked his head against the stone, darkness drew him into its embrace. He slid to the ground.

  On hands and knees, he listened, silent, aware she spoke but unable to understand her words. Sticky, interlaced cobwebs of memory dried and cracked, falling away.

  She'd struck his face, but his chest ached as if she'd taken a fist to his heart. His vision swam, blurred, faded. A cold knot tightened in his throat. Light bloomed around the edges of his vision.

  Holding on to the boulder, he climbed to his feet, dimly aware that Joss and Erryq were staring at him.

  "Pietas!" His mother stamped her foot. "You ungrateful brute! You did this to your father! You fix it!" She lifted her hand.

  Heat rose in his face as he brought forth Zip. To him, time stopped. Up to now, he'd used the pseudo speed only against his enemies. Before she could strike, he gripped her wrist.

  She flinched. To her, the grasp would seem abrupt.

  "Mother, you will not hit me again."

  "You fix this!" Helia tugged at his hold on her. "This is all your fault!"

  He drew her against him, restraining her the way one would a petulant child. "Stop it! Explain yourself."

  "Let go of me!"

  He gripped her shoulder with his other hand and kept her immobile. Despite blinding pain, he still possessed Compulsion. As upset as his mother was, she lacked personal control. That weakened her immunity. The moment he sent the first tendril, Helia ceased resisting.

  "What is my fault?"

  "No one will help your father. He needs the Mingle but no one will take part. They're all too afraid of you."

  "The Council? Afraid of me?" How he wished. "They acted wisely. No one should help him. He deserves to die."

  Her mouth formed a silent O. She struggled to free herself. "How can you say that?"

  "I killed him for a reason."

  "Because you hate him! You've always hated him!"

  When he released her, she stumbled. He made no attempt to help her.

  "No one on the Council will help that snake because he deserves nothing."

  Helia gasped. She tried to strike him but Pietas intercepted the blow.

  "Enough of this!" He gripped both her wrists. "Woman, you become tedious. Don't you see what he's doing? He's using you. You've stopped hating him and gone back to defending him. Where is your backbone? Where is your strength?"

  "How dare you say that to me? Yes, I went back to him. He needed me!"

  Like getting ice water in the face, hearing those words. He released her as if burnt. "He needed you? Where were you when I needed you?"

  Rubbing her wrist, she turned. "He was right. You are a cold, heartless monster! You appreciate nothing. You're a disgrace."

  He had never been her good little soldier.

  He had always disappointed her.

  He had not lost her love.

  He'd never had it.

  The unwanted memory of Six telling Pietas his mother never protected him crept into his thoughts.

  Pain seeped down into his chest. The air grew thin. He could draw in only enough for shallow breaths.

  He stood on some fathomless precipice, his life hanging in the balance, and he had no choice but to go over the edge.

  All that remained was whether he'd jump or be pushed.

  The response he wanted formed in his thoughts. He'd prefer to keep the words inside, but he set them free.

  "Mother, you are a fool."

  "You have the insolence to stand there, covered in your father's blood, and say that to me? What kind of son have I raised?"

  The brightness that had plagued his vision eased, but behind it crept the blackest ink. How could she not see the truth? The world constricted.

  "If you had ever had the courage to stand up to Father, you'd have raised a different son."

  She gasped. "How dare you! You have no idea what I went through, protecting you."

  Those words pierced to the heart.

  "Protecting." With a scoff, he patted his chest. "When did you ever protect me?"

  "Your father was right. You're nothing but a merciless killing machine!"

  "I'm sure Father would recognize such a creature, since he is one." He pressed the fingers of one hand against his brow, fighting the pain threatening to burst his skull. "He's poisoned you against me."

  "It's not poison. It's truth. I watched you try to tear off his head. You tried to rip out your father's spine through his throat! I'm so ashamed of what you've become!"

  Pietas dropped his hand and lifted his throbbing head. Darkness closed in around the edges of his vision.

  Ashamed of him?

  His entire life he had bent to her will. He had done every single thing his mother had told him. Learned every lesson. Borne every punishment. Suffered untold agony to save her.

  And now, after she'd honed him into a warrior half the galaxy feared, she viewed him with shame?

  "You should be proud, Mother. I am a merciless killing machine. Exactly what you and Father made me. But I should be ashamed of myself. I made a grave error. All my life, I thought you brought me strength. You brought me nothing but weakness."

  "Do not speak to me like that!" Helia lifted her chin. "Don't come near me! Not until you've come to your senses and shown proper respect for your father."

  Darkness gathered. Strength ebbing, Pietas pressed his back against the cold, impervious boulder. Fighting to remain on his feet, he clawed the heatless stone. Enveloped in darkness, he slid to the ground.

  He reached out to his mother but then tightened his hand into a fist and tapped the middle of his chest--not his heart--in grief.

  Helia disappeared into the encroaching night.

  All the light in his world faded.

  Chapter Fifty-three

  Rubbing her bleary eyes, Joss leaned against the opening of the upper cavern.

  For two days, Pietas had slept, face down, arms tucked beneath his chest. The blanket roll where he rested was as smooth as when she'd left him that morning. He hadn't
moved all day except to turn his head. The erratic flicker of his eyes behind closed eyelids indicated life. The vibrant leader who'd survived over a year of the most brutal confinement imaginable now lay still as death.

  Dessy visited after breakfast every morning and sat beside her brother, stroking his hair. If he was aware of her presence he gave no indication. He didn't respond to Six's twice-daily visits either. With two exceptions, all the others came to see him, ask about him, touch him. Each one sat beside him and stroked his shining hair, as if that physical connection reassured them he was still with them.

  Helia stayed with Mahikos.

  Joss had loved her like a sister. She'd thought they were close. How had she not seen that Mahikos had twisted and manipulated her? Helia was not the woman Joss had cherished. This woman was alien to her.

  Yet she could not get past the image of Helia attacking Pietas. Who in their right mind did such a thing? The woman had either tremendous courage, or incredible stupidity. Maybe both.

  Each night, Dessy returned and looked in on her brother. She'd hug Joss and smile, but wouldn't speak. When pressed to tell Pietas the truth, she'd shake her head and find a reason to escape.

  Armand and Philippe, who slept nearby, took turns guarding Pietas and following Dessy. Separated by duty, the twins couldn't speak.

  After another two days, the fist-sized knot on Pietas's head went down. That night, he opened his eyes.

  Giddy with relief, Joss supported him and gave him water. As Pietas drank, he looked up into her face as if trying to place her. Already slender, he'd become gaunt. The moment she let him lie down, he shut his eyes and slept.

  For two more days, he awakened long enough to eat or drink, unless Tiklaus visited. Unlike Dessy and Six, the cat refused to be ignored. It butted Pietas with its head and patted him with an insistent paw until he woke.

  At first, Pietas did little more than pet the cat. Once he'd healed, physically at least, he wrestled with the animal and put up with being mauled as if it were an everyday occurrence. Perhaps it was. The cat's fangs and claws ceased being a concern after the first visit. At the end of their "play" he had nothing worse than a few minor scratches that soon healed.

  He talked to the cat like they spoke the same language. Tiklaus never made an outward response, but the keen eyes watched every move Pietas made.

  Each time she observed them, a lump formed in her throat and she had to cover her mouth to keep from crying. What broke her heart were the glimpses of Pietas as he had been. Broken, yes. Damaged and alone, but alive, full of hope and striving for the future.

  He'd become a shell of his former self. Once the cat left, the new, silent Pietas returned, shutting out every person and every thing.

  While the world turned and time moved on, he slept.

  Though he spooned her when she slept beside him, he did nothing more than hold her. Passion had never driven Pietas. Honor had. It had been like that since she'd known him. Even when he was younger he'd given more than he'd accepted, as if being loved was as foreign to his nature as breathing water.

  Seeing him like this, it was she who breathed water. At night, after everyone was asleep, she climbed the cliff so the wind would carry away the sound of her crying.

  In the cavern below, Mahikos fought for every breath, his ragged, torn throat healing layer by layer. Though Helia begged the others to share blood, no one complied.

  There was a time Joss would have opened every vein to help her. Given her own life to save him simply because Helia asked. Not now. Not after hearing what he'd done to Pietas and Dessy. Not after knowing Helia allowed it. Not after seeing her attack Pietas.

  Not after overhearing his fearful thoughts of being less than perfect. Of being a young child forced to drill like a soldier for long hours without rest, then sent to supper without having time to wash, and being forbidden to eat.

  Her beloved king had lain crumpled, covered in dried blood, forsaken by the person he loved most in all the worlds. Tears rose unbidden and she dashed them away, furious with herself. Tears would not help Pietas.

  She had to fight for him. Stay at his side. Support him. Bring him out of this lethargy and despair. Heal his broken spirit and mend his broken heart.

  Pietas had lost his mother.

  Joss had lost her dearest friend.

  Helia was a scientist and a warrior. One of the most educated women in history. How had she let herself be swayed by that madman? How could she not have protected her children? How could she have been so cold and cruel to her son?

  Since Mahikos had sworn he knew how to save those still encased in cryopods, the Council allowed him to remain in camp until he healed. After that, he'd be allowed to prove he knew what to do. If he failed, they'd hold him accountable.

  But no one--no one--would help him heal faster.

  While Six didn't offer to donate blood, he did take Helia water. She pulled back from him at first, but no one else had offered her anything. She took it. Pretosia brought her one rabbit each morning, but went away again right after. Six skinned and cooked the hare each day.

  "Six?" Joss took his arm. "Tell me you don't feel sorry for her."

  "Pi wouldn't want her to go hungry."

  "He wouldn't want you to side with her, either."

  "I'm not." Six picked over the meat. "She might have been a victim once, but she accepted the enemy's lies. I'm sorry if it's harsh, but from where I sit, she deserves Mahikos. After seeing how she abandoned Pi... She turned on him, Joss. She treated him like he was the enemy. I can't feel sorry for her. Even so--I won't let her go hungry. Not if I can help it. Pi wouldn't. She hurt him, but he'd see to it she was fed. I'm not doing this for her. I'm doing it for him."

  When she didn't speak, he looked up at her.

  "You're liked by everyone in this camp, Six." She squeezed his arm. "And you're a good friend to Pietas."

  He pulled away. "I wish he believed that." He went back to what he'd been doing.

  Joss approached the pod where the comatose Mahikos fought for every breath.

  Helia, seated beside the man's inert form, did not look at her. "Either have pity and help him or go away, Joss."

  "Pity? For him? He deserves nothing of the kind. You, however..." When she didn't continue, Helia looked up. "I worry about you, my friend."

  With a scoff, Helia turned her head. "You were never my friend."

  The placid indifference Joss picked up belied the anger on Helia's face. Joss had always assumed Helia's attitude of indifference was her true emotion. For the first time, she recognized it for what it truly was: an impregnable shield.

  "How long have you hidden who you really are?"

  Helia stood and after tilting back her head, met Joss's gaze. "How long have you known me?" With that, she walked away.

  * * * *

  Each day, Mahikos's body knitted itself back together.

  Each night, a little more of Pietas unraveled.

  Joss sat on the blanket roll and leaned on the cavern wall. While she watched, Pietas rolled onto his back and opened his eyes. One tear slid down over his temple. She had the impression he hadn't realized she was there. He scrubbed both hands over his face and sat up, drew up his knees and hung his arms across them.

  A perfect picture of melancholy and depression, he sat in silent isolation, his thoughts shielded as if encased in iron. Not one emotion leaked.

  The lie that had sustained him his entire life had shattered at his feet. His brilliant turquoise eyes had lost their sparkle. She'd welcome even a smidgen of their former joy.

  The first time she'd seen him, he'd been sitting just that way. Abandoned, cold, wet, grimy, his shock white hair unkempt, frizzed and curling in the wet weather, pants torn, shirt so thin it looked more like a layer of dirt than cloth. When she'd spoken to him, he'd come to his feet with as much pride as a decorated war veteran.

  He'd been all of sixteen, yet those beautiful turquoise eyes looked back at her from an ancient soul filled with pain.
Her heart had gone out to him. Bruised and beaten he might be, but his ego was still intact. Since she'd known him, he'd never lost faith in himself.

  Seeing him now, listless, mute, focused within... She wanted to scream for him to wake up. He had to come back from whatever pit held him prisoner. He was their hope!

  No one else could pull them out of this state. No one else would have the will. If Pietas did not rally, their people would perish. They'd suffocate in those cryopods and waste away to nothing. Trapped within the very units that kept them alive throughout their treacherous journey to exile.

  Without Pietas, the Ultras would vanish from the universe.

  Permanently. Eternally. Forever.

  He had never once lost faith in others. He'd always believed others wanted the best, as he did. His loyal troops would follow him over a wall into hell. If Pietas was going, they were going. If they fell short of his level of perfection, it puzzled him, but it didn't stop him.

  That day so long ago when she'd first taken his hands in hers, her gift had revealed his path. Greatness. Might. Towering strength, in body and mind. Willpower beyond anything in all her centuries of experience.

  With that single touch, she'd known legends would be written about this boy, once he became a man.

  He must not lose faith in himself now. Not because of his mother's infidelity to her children. There had to be some way Joss could reach him. Some word she could speak that would restore his shattered faith.

  All her life she'd searched for ways to quiet the mindvoices of others. A means of blocking the ocean of noise that filled her every waking moment. Yet here she sat, not an arm's length from her lover and king and he was silent as stone.

  Joss stuffed a knuckle in her mouth and bit down, shielding as hard as she could, forcing back tears.

  Pietas stood in one fluid movement and strode out of the cavern.

  Heart pounding, she leaped up and went after him. At the opening, she ducked back inside and stayed in the dark, out of sight.

  The legendary Bringer of Chaos and the ghost called Six faced one another across a gulf of mere handspans--and half a galaxy of hurtful words.

  Six slid his canteen off over his head. As if approaching a feral beast, the man lifted it toward Pietas, easy, by small degrees, unhurried.