Bringer of Chaos_Forged in Fire Read online

  For that, he depended on Six. It was hard enough having to admit an inability to himself, but to a human? To the ghost's credit, he performed the task without fanfare.

  Above them, a smattering of short, scrubby trees showed blue sky through their branches. The summit lay straight ahead. Off to the northwest, the sky darkened. Rising wind brought the smell of rain.

  He trailed Joss up a rise but halted, taking stock of the area. A sloping runoff pitched down to a shallow valley. At the end, dense trees began another forest. The summit waited above.

  "I'll grab a look from up there." Pietas began to climb.

  Joss raced ahead of him and turned to face him, arms out. "There's a much better viewpoint once we get through the pass."

  "This is closer." He skirted around her.

  "No, wait!" She inserted herself between him and the summit once more. "The view is better from over there."

  "Why?"

  "Because..." She looked toward the others as if appealing for help. "You can see further from there."

  He was no schoolboy. "What are you hiding?"

  "Hiding?" She threw all her winsome charm into the word. "Why, nothing. You'd prefer the view from--"

  He darted around her.

  "No, Pietas, wait!" She caught up to him again. "Please go the other way. It's steep up there and the rocks are loose. You might fall."

  "Joss!" He drew himself up to his full regal height and looked down his nose at her. "You're the worst liar I know. You're keeping secrets from me."

  'I-- I-- I--" She clenched her fists and groaned in frustration. "Oh, you stubborn, stubborn man! Why can't you ever take my advice?"

  "Have I ever not? You tell me what I should and shouldn't do. You're worse than my mother."

  Her eyes flashed sparks of anger, but then softened. "I'm your mother's age too. You should listen to your elders."

  "Wait," Six interjected, coming up beside them. "You're older than Pietas?"

  Joss flipped back a stray lock of blond hair. "Every Ultra is older than Pietas. Except Dessy. Well, and you. How old are you, anyway?"

  "Enough!" Pietas swept both hands down and out. The swift movement shot piercing pain through his shoulders. He caught his breath, but pretended he was simply gathering his patience. He took a deep breath, let it out. "Joss, what is it you don't want me to see?"

  "It's--" Again, she looked toward the others in an obvious appeal for help, but Dessy and the twins all seemed to find the ground around them fascinating.

  Six glanced toward the summit. "She's trying to spare you from something."

  "Spare me?" Pietas whipped toward her. "Spare me? I am the leader of our people. If it weren't for faithless traitors, I would have been your king!"

  Joss shrank from him.

  "I do not need protecting like some useless child or a worthless mortal."

  The moment the words left his lips, Pietas longed to pull them back. How many times had his father hurled those same vile epithets at him? You are useless as a child, Pietas! Grow up! You're worthless as a mortal.

  Oh, how he loathed and despised that man, yet seemed inherently doomed to become what he hated. He must keep his head.

  Six dropped his gaze, mouth tight.

  If there was one law Pietas had learned it was that a leader did not rule with his heart. Yet for all his intention to set himself aside, to rise above petty entanglements, he longed to be kind.

  Kind? Him?

  He who slaughtered every enemy. He who vanquished every foe. He whom his prey feared would feast on their souls. Why should what others think matter to a king? He should have no concern whatsoever.

  Yet here he was, out of his depth foundering in a sea of wretched, churning emotion. How did one navigate such a miasma? Every time Pietas let down his guard, circumstances conspired to crush him. Any direction he stepped mangled someone's feelings. First Six. Now he had Dessy, Joss, and the twins to contend with. Next he'd go completely maudlin and worry about hurting his father.

  How revolting.

  Pietas had existed centuries on his own. How had he fallen so low? He was worried about hurting a mortal. How positively human.

  Yet he could not let his injurious words stand. "Six."

  The man met his gaze, not a shred of emotion showing.

  "Six, I was wrong to say that."

  The other four popped up their heads as if a string linked them.

  "What?" Pietas rounded on them. "I can apologize if I'm wrong." He turned his back and gripped Six's arm. "I didn't mean what I said. It's habit born of prejudice, ingrained. Wrong. Thoughtless. I am sorry."

  Six stuck out a hand. Pietas accepted and the mortal clasped his forearm and tugged him closer. "Warrior to warrior, Pi. I get it. No harm done."

  "Six, you are closer than a friend. More beloved than a brother. I am sorry."

  "I know." Smiling, Six gave one nod. "Brothers. Always."

  When they broke apart, Pietas turned to find his sister giving him her usual sneer.

  She set a hand on one hip. "What a cute couple you two make."

  Six's laugh drew her startled gaze. "Lady, if you mean to insult me by saying I look good at your brother's side, guess again."

  His friend had made an enemy of Dessy the moment they met. When she'd discovered that Six had forced Pietas to surrender by threatening to end the cryosleep of their mother, the hatred had deepened. Six was not wise to antagonize Dessy, but Pietas could not help the flare of pride at his words.

  The ghost was incapable of being anyone's lover. He'd been stripped of that when he'd become a ghost. But the others had no idea.

  Pietas slid one arm around his friend's waist, and Six sidled up close to him.

  Dessy spun on her heels and flounced away.

  He winked at Six.

  "Joss. The truth this time."

  While she studied him, he remained motionless. The gentle prod of her mind across his shields reminded him she'd seen his thoughts despite his best efforts. Or perhaps she'd allowed him to be aware. In the past, he'd noticed such intrusion during training but not outside it.

  "Pietas, if you want to see the caldera from this point, I can't stop you, but once you see what's out there, you can't un-see it. I want to spare you the devastation until you've had a chance to see the good side. If I take you in through the pass, you can appreciate the true beauty of this place first. Maybe come up with a way we can make it work here. Survive."

  Devastation.

  According to Joss, half a million of his people lay in helpless cryosleep within lifepods on the other side of that hill. Over three thousand pods had been damaged beyond saving. The frozen immortals within them shattered.

  A short hike above, the summit waited. In two short minutes he could see for himself. "How long would your route take us?"

  "Less than a half hour."

  Once more, the short distance to the actual summit drew his attention. How many steps?

  "Pi?" Six nudged him. "Is that even a blink in the life of an immortal?"

  "No, ghost, it's not." How grateful he was for this man. "Besides, I'm patient."

  His sister scoffed. "You?" Turning to the twins, she pointed at Pietas. "That is not my brother."

  No, he was not. He was far better. His sister could see the change. Why would she not accept it? Resisting the urge to respond with cynicism, Pietas shut his mouth.

  He indicated the route Joss wanted to take. "Let's go your way."

  "Thank you for listening to me." Joss took Pietas by the hand, reached up, and dragged a fingertip down the cleft in his chin. "This place is stunning. I hate that so much of it will be spoiled by our being here."

  "Why? Has Mother released environmental impact studies?"

  "No, she--" The look Joss sent his way resembled pity. "You'll see. Not far now."

  "You've been saying 'not far' for hours. Did I not teach you to mark trails?"

  "I'm sorry, Pietas. It won't happen again."

  Oh, but it would.
She wouldn't mean for it to happen, but it would. He'd tried for centuries to teach her how to find her way, to no avail. He kissed her cheek and drew her into his arms, savoring her warmth.

  "Joss." He placed his mouth near her ear. "You couldn't find your way out of a round room with one door."

  She jerked up her head and looked at him, eyes wide.

  "And I adore you for it."

  Smiling, she took his hand. "Let's keep going."

  The next rise led to a shallow valley with a gentle, sloping path leading to round-topped trees. Joss had gone ahead, scouting the way.

  Six sighed. "I don't see civilization."

  "Joss!" Pietas called, causing her to turn back and look at him. "Six wants to know if we're there yet." He smirked at his friend, who rolled his eyes.

  "Almost." She motioned. "Keep going."

  "Pi, I told you. She's trying to find a familiar landmark."

  "Does seem that way."

  "Don't you Ultras ever stop and ask for directions?"

  "There's no one else on the planet. Ask of whom, ghost?"

  Six spread his hands. "Just saying."

  Joss turned and started back toward them. "It was further than I remembered, but I found it! We're minutes from the entrance."

  A flare of hope quickened his heart. Pietas squelched it at once. Emotion did not color his decisions. A king acted with surety, not hope. Hope turns to disappointment. Disappointment turns to anger. Anger turns to rage. Rage removes control. He must not succumb to the weakness of hope.

  "What will we see, Joss?"

  "They released the ten Council members upon landing. We set up camp halfway down the slope, near a natural cave. It's the size of a small apartment. All the other cryopods are on the valley floor."

  "In what order?"

  "You mean, what order do they revive? All the pods are set to open at once."

  "No, I mean, how are they divided? Are the warriors in one section and scientists in another?"

  "There's no semblance of rank, Pietas. It appears they loaded the ship with people as they surrendered. We can tell their name and class by indicators on the pods and we have a somewhat accurate count, but there's no other division. They landed the delivery units and then took off. There's not even an unloader to separate them."

  "You're telling me half a million pods are stacked the way they were on the ship? Are they in pallet loads of three, nine or twelve?"

  Joss looked toward Dessy.

  "Now what?" Pietas demanded. "Are there more secrets?"

  Linking one arm with his, Joss leaned into him. The sweetness of her smile could seduce any man into forgetfulness. How like Joss to be dulcet and feminine if it warranted and all soldier if it didn't.

  He forbade himself the distraction, removed her hold on his arm and stepped back. "Tell me."

  "Pietas, we're so close. You need to see for yourself." The wind gusted, blowing fair hair into her face. She tucked it behind an ear. "If we're not inside the caldera before the storm hits, we could be killed. Until you've been through a hailstorm on this planet, you haven't even seen bad weather."

  "Been in several since we landed. Got a broken arm to prove it." He rubbed his forearm. "Not to mention a headache worthy of a cracked skull. Let's go."

  The sky turned tornado-green. A few fat drops of rain slid down Pietas's neck, leaving a cold trail in the heat. A few others smacked his hair and face. These scouts warned of the threatening army advancing. Higher up, ominous thunderclouds glowed a menacing pink and orange.

  They picked up the pace. In the distance, the oncoming storm blackened the sky. The wind whistled, calling its dogs to hunt.

  Chapter Five

  Icy fingers dragged down his spine. Pietas swallowed, fighting back bile.

  The hill they'd crested led down to a jagged claw-rip of darkness, a slash in the velvet forest forming a lightless, foreboding tunnel. The coffin-shaped slice emptied into an abyss of shadow, swallowing every indication of depth and life.

  Despite knowing he needed to hurry, Pietas slowed his step, dragging his bare feet through the dry, straw-colored grass. Turning in a slow circle, he held out his arms as high as he could and lifted his face to the cloud-covered sun, a child wanting one more minute outdoors before bedtime. He cherished the open air and light, unwilling to relinquish the beauty of his freedom.

  "Pietas!" Joss called to him. She'd gotten far ahead. "Come on!"

  As he started toward her, the forest maw ratcheted open, an unhinged jaw of a snake. An uneven patch of ground beneath a foot cost him his balance. Pietas stumbled, tripped, and threw out his hands to break his fall. He landed on hands and knees and then sat, cross-legged. His scraped palms stung and bled. A potent Spanish swear word flew to mind, but he denied it voice.

  Dessy slowed as she passed, but didn't speak. If an Ultra did not ask for help, none was offered.

  The twins, however, tasked with guarding the party, did. Aid was their duty.

  "Guys." Six stooped next to him. "You go ahead. I'll stay with Pi."

  Pietas flicked his fingers. Without a response, the twins joined Dessy.

  Joss looked up and around at the sky. "Pietas, I'll wait for you."

  "No, go ahead. The rain's almost here. I'll join you under the trees."

  When she had gone, he examined his palms. The injury had healed.

  "How's the ankle?"

  "Fine, ghost." He wiped off his hands.

  His friend studied him, glanced toward the forest. "Gotcha." He stood.

  When Pietas shifted to rise, Six offered a hand.

  "Thanks, but I can manage." He stood and brushed himself off.

  The wind picked that moment to set a dust devil whirling into the sand and dried grasses around them. It flew up, stinging exposed skin.

  Six covered his eyes. "Oh, man!"

  Pietas shielded his own. The whirlwind ripped the cloth tie holding back his hair and whipped strands into his face. He tried facing into the wind, but the circular current spun the tresses back into his eyes. As fast as it had risen, the wind subsided.

  His long hair, full of static electricity from the wind and storm, settled over his shoulders and adhered to his neck. He was unable to lift his arms to gather it himself. He refused to let the others see he needed help and he did not want Six fretting over it.

  The man blamed himself for the injury. Yes, Six had bound Pietas. It had been Six's duty to do so. In truth, those who had placed Pietas inside the pod and refused to release him were to blame, but no matter how often he reminded Six of that, the ghost refused to relinquish his guilt.

  Six dug into his pockets. "I have another strip." They had torn several from a ragged shirt. Six wore the biggest piece around his neck. He set down his pack and opened it.

  "Six," Pietas hissed. He did not turn his head, but looked toward the others. "Leave it!"

  The ghost glanced up at him, then the immortals, waiting ahead. "You want the women messing with your hair? Is that it?"

  He closed his eyes, counting to ten. To a hundred would not erase this embarrassment. "No." When he beheld Six, the man had the discourtesy to smirk. "Don't look at me in that tone of voice."

  The man chuckled. "We should have cut your hair before we set out." He rummaged through his kit, which held all Six owned when he'd been marooned here. Little more than survival gear.

  "I never cut it except in ritual."

  "I know." Six withdrew a boning knife used for it.

  Before every battle, Pietas performed the solemn rite to affirm superior strength and prowess. The ghost had been the first human to see it carried out, albeit from a distance while hiding.

  Six stood. "Maybe you could perform it now."

  "How like you to see the easy solution. There are a few elements missing. No fire. No water. No mask." He motioned toward the oncoming storm. "No time."

  "Haven't you ever heard of pretending?"

  "One cannot 'pretend' a ritual."

  "What a boring childh
ood you must've had. Why not?"

  Pietas opened his mouth to answer. Shut it again.

  Six lifted one eyebrow. "Do you want to go into that dark hole and meet up with your people without performing it?"

  "No, but there's no time."

  "Rain's coming." Six jerked a thumb toward the forest. "You have to go in there to reunite with your people. Are you going to stand out here making excuses, or do this?"

  "Ghost, this ritual is important. It deserves respect."

  "Blah, blah, blah. That storm is bearing down on us." A few drops of rain splattered them both. "See? Or maybe you'd rather have your sister help you with your hair every morning."

  "Fine!" With a resigned sigh, Pietas capitulated. "How do you propose we 'pretend' my ritual?"

  Six tucked the knife into his belt and held out his cupped hands. "This is fire."

  Pietas hesitated.

  "Come on, Pi." Six wagged his cupped hands. "This stuff is hot."

  "Of course it is." A smile slipped onto his face and refused to leave. "It's pretend fire. That's the hottest kind."

  "Remember, you do this naked. Unzip your robe or whatever it is you'd wear."

  Pietas mimed removing his silk robe. He plucked one hair and laid it across Six's hands, feeding it to the fire. "As fire has victory over life, so I have victory over my enemies." He passed a hand through the imaginary flame. As he had in the real ritual, he hissed at the scorching heat. He cupped his hands over Six's, a symbolic end to the flames. "I am powerful, as fire is powerful."

  "Next is air."

  "Yes." He lifted both hands, made fists, and yanked them back. "I own the wind. I prevail over the breath of my enemies."

  Again, Six cupped his hands. "Water."

  "Water submits to my presence the way enemies submit to my will." He scooped his hands into the bowl, lifted his arms as far as he could and pictured the liquid dripping down them. "The blood of my enemies trickles into the pool of time, is absorbed, and forgotten." He bent and pushed both hands as far through his hair as he could reach. "My mind is clear. I do not waver."