Nemesis: Book Five (9 page)

"Save him…." His eyes glanced toward the father before coming back to her.

And what would she do? Tell him no?

Her aura snaked across the ground, a few inches above the white strands. She watched as some stretched up, trying to touch their mother as the green passed over them. The aura reached the old man, wrapping around him the same as it did Briten, reaching inside of his wounds, trying to heal the damage done. He was further gone than Briten, his body having taken so much more abuse over the years.

Briten said nothing else, but closed his eyes.

He would live, she could feel it. The body would survive, and thank The Makers. How he got here, what they were doing with him, none of that mattered. He would live and he was
here.
Now he wanted these two. The boy he inhabited, Michael—it had to have something to do with him.

Bryan hadn't moved, neither forward nor backward.

Morena smiled, unable to keep herself from doing it. What would Bryan have said in this situation? Jesus Christ? Exasperation, that's what she felt, because what was she to do with these two? Bring them under her reign? Briten wanted them to live for some reason, but she didn't understand why.

"Come on," she said, her aura stretching out to him but not quite touching—maybe a foot away.

Bryan remained where he stood.

"Where else are you going to go, Bryan? If I want to kill you, getting in that car won't keep it from happening. You see that, right?"

* * *

"
Y
ou see that right
?"

Bryan saw everything that just happened. He saw Morena standing there now, the green stuff that seemed to make up nearly her whole existence wrapping around Michael and Wren. She wasn't hurting them, and to be completely honest, Bryan thought she was helping.

He kept still, though.

He wanted to go to them, but he had to be sure. That's why he didn't run out there, why he didn't join Wren to save Michael. Bryan knew nothing could save Michael, nothing besides
her
, and she hadn't been here when Wren started running. The only part of death that scared Bryan was that he wouldn't ever get back to Thera. That couldn't be allowed. He wouldn't die here, not for Michael and not for Wren.

And he didn't feel shame about it, either.

He had his promise to keep, and everything else fell second to that. Thera died trying to protect him and when he died, he would lie down next to her.

Yet, the only way to Thera was forward. The alien's green substance floated lazily in front of his face, like a flower swaying in the wind.

He had to go forward. He could still protect Michael, as long as it wasn't completely futile. And, maybe the fucking bitch would bring him back to Thera if she decided to kill him.

"My friend," he said, shouting a bit so that his voice carried to her. "Thera, the one you killed." His voice hitched at the word. He paused, trying to regain his composure. "I want you to take me there if you kill me. You understand? Back to the woods and back to that hole we hid in. Just leave me there."

She smiled back at him, and he imagined an anteater might look similar if the ants asked it to bury them when it finished. He didn't like the smile, but he didn't feel the same fear. The fear that shattered the mirror inside him, the fear that kept him inside that hole while Thera ventured out to commit murder. Gone. Not even a remnant left.

"Sure, Bryan. Whatever you'd like," she said, the smile wide.

He made his choice when he left that forest. He made the choice to head back there, no matter what happened, so this little argument in his head amounted to another grain of salt being dropped into the ocean.

He was going forward because he had to; he saw no other way to get to Thera.

Bryan stepped out onto the white growth that covered the land, half expecting it to grab him like it did Michael and Wren. Half expecting to die.

And that wasn't so bad, because Bryan knew none of them were getting out of this life alive.

T
he decision was made
.

He wouldn't reverse it, regardless of what happened in the room before him.

He labored over it for far too long as it was, spending days, weeks, and months thinking it through. Trying to understand every piece of it. Every part of his personality that demanded he do it, every part of her personality that wanted him to. He tried to understand the ramifications here, in this place, as well as there, at hers. And in the end, what he understood for sure—standing before this door—was that none of the ramifications mattered.

Briten was going to Morena.

He was giving up his birthright.

He was giving up his planet.

And now he needed to tell his father.

Ancient. When he really thought about it, that word described his father best. Much older than the oldest Var to ever live, and yet he only had one son. Briten. The heir to everything he created, to his people. Everyone on Lorn thought the man something akin to a god, the closest living thing to The Makers.

The greatest of Lorn's leaders. And once Briten left his court, the last of his bloodline.

Briten's aura reached up to the massive door in front of him, stretching a hundred feet above, and plastered itself across, letting the sensors read who had come. It only took the door a second to register the caller as Obscur's son and then it faded away, leaving Briten an entrance.

He walked through the doorway and into his father's court. The room, massive and empty, had always seemed foreboding to Briten. Never more than now though. His father had occupied this room for so long, no one alive remembered the last person to own it. In the middle of the circular room sat his father's capsule, a deep transparent red, that when filled with Obscur, matched his aura. It stood empty this morning though, as it did on most. He only used the capsule when conducting business.

His son wasn't business.

At least, wasn't supposed to be. Today, though … Today his father should probably be in the capsule.

"Father," Briten said, standing still, not seeing Obscur anywhere.

"You're not bringing me good news." His father's voice echoed across the chamber, bouncing off the walls and tremendously high ceilings, masking where his father sent it from. "Why?"

"I have made a decision and I need to tell you."

Obscur's aura began to flash, speckling in to existence twenty feet in front of Briten. The deep red, darker than his son's, taking form, and leaving a hole in the middle of the circle it created; lastly, his body appeared. Obscur was huge, taller and bigger than Briten in every way, and even with such tremendous age, he held his body as strong as anyone Briten had ever seen.

"Is it the Bynum?" Obscur asked.

And had Briten really thought his father wouldn't know? Had he thought that his father would be in the dark about something so critical, the future of his species, the future of his bloodline? If he thought that, then he was beyond foolish.

"Yes," he said.

Obscur's aura made no sudden movements; it didn't tighten or expand, but remained floating around him as if Briten said nothing.

"You're going to her?"

Briten held his father's eyes. "Yes."

"Not she to you?"

"That's correct."

Obscur turned, his aura sweeping out along the floor, spreading into a ten foot circle surrounding him. No one on Lorn possessed such control over their aura as Briten's father. Perhaps his age or perhaps his strength, but the aura didn't simply reveal his emotions, or do everyday tasks. His aura was a full extension of his mind.

"And what of Lorn? What of us?"

"Father, you're here. You can have another son."

"I can?"

Briten said nothing because his father's question was nonsensical. Obscur could father children until the moment he expired, as could all Lorn males.

His back faced Briten. "I'm dying."

"What?"

"I will die within the year. That's not enough time to sire another. That's not enough time to raise another son as I did you."

Briten took a step forward. "You're not dying, and if you're trying to trick me into staying, stop. It's not going to work. I'm leaving, father."

Obscur chuckled, his head looking down to the floor. "Is it so hard to believe that the old die? Did you think me immortal? Did you think I would live like The Makers, only here on Lorn, forever recreating this place as I saw fit? No, son. Everything dies, including me, and my time is nearly here."

Briten didn't understand. His own aura was wrapped around him so tight that it floated only an inch off his flesh. He didn't notice, didn't notice his father's aura either—the intricate circles it created at the edge of the large one around his body. His father wasn't dying. His father was lying, right now, perhaps for the first time to his son, but lying none-the-less. Obscur of Lorn, Obscur the Great, Obscur the Knowing, wouldn't die. And if he did, if it must happen, then it would happen in some distant future—when the world had moved on, when the
universe
had moved on. Not now.

Obscur turned around and looked at Briten.

"It's true. Your thoughts are clear to me now, perhaps as clear as they've ever been. Fear, hope, and doubt dominate. There will be more. It's important that you understand this is the truth, though. There are no lies between us, there never has been. Within the year I will pass from this universe."

Briten … except his mind was blank. No thoughts. Nothing to hang on to, just vast space inside him—the space of the stunned. He saw his father in front of him, the same creature that had always loomed so large over everything, looking like he always had. Looking as if worlds bent to his will, which they did. Only the words coming from his mouth said that it would end. Said that his father wouldn't live forever.

"If you leave, you will leave our planet in turmoil," Obscur said.

* * *

H
er daughter was too
young to make this decision, and yet Helos knew the decision had been made. She knew her daughter wouldn't change her mind.

In truth, Helos knew her daughter, and knew from the moment Morena looked at the Lorn that her daughter wasn't wedding anyone from Bynimian. She knew and she did nothing about it.

Her daughter came now to tell Helos, though she probably knew that Helos already had suspicions.

And how are you going to handle it? What about The Council? How will they handle such news?

Not well.

The Council would be a much bigger obstacle than anything Helos might present. The Council would try to derail Morena at every turn before it happened. And after? When they finally wed?

Makers, please be gentle. Her reign would be the most contested to ever exist.

Helos knew none of that would persuade her from the message she now brought.

"Var, your daughter is here."

"Thank you. Send her up."

Helos' own husband died a hundred years prior, and she still missed him. Her daughter was creating a bond that would only break with death, and Helos didn't know if Morena understood that. No, that wasn't true; she knew Morena didn't understand it—perhaps she couldn't understand until it happened. The bond that she wanted with this man, when they wed, would last millions of years. It would stretch across any distance if needed. Perhaps it would last even in death, though no one but The Makers knew for sure.

Morena entered and Helos felt the same as she did every time she saw her daughter. Bad news, good news, no news, she loved Morena with everything she had. Morena frightened her, though. Her will would be her downfall—and something shifted in Helos' knowledge every time she thought of Morena's will. Helos was a peacemaker, Morena a warrior, and Bynimian had never had a warrior as Var.

"Mother," Morena said, bowing her head, holding onto formalities.

"Come," Helos said. "Enough with that. You know you don't need to schedule a meeting with assistant to see me."

Morena raised her head and crossed the space to Helos. They both walked to the couches, placed at random across Helos' chambers. She liked the randomness of it; for someone with Knowledge so strong, to have something that at least appeared not to be set by some guiding hand felt good.

"What is it you have to tell me?" Helos said.

"You don't know?"

"Maybe I do and maybe I don't, but you came here to tell me something, so go ahead."

Morena smiled slightly and looked away from Helos to her own lap. "I'm going to marry him."

Helos sighed, a long one that sent a message.

"You disapprove?" Morena asked, still not looking up.

"I'm not sure whether I do or not, but I know The Council will."

Morena's eyes flashed to her mother, and Helos saw the fire in them despite her green aura—fire that if it took form would be just as red as the aura of the Lorn she wanted. "You're Var, and if you give it your blessing, then The Council will have no choice but to bless it as well."

"Are things so easy? Is that how you see them after all this time?"

Morena said nothing but didn't turn away.

"If that is the Var you hope to become, one in which you give your blessing and the world goes along with it, then you are not fit to be Var regardless of who you marry."

Morena stood and walked across the room, pacing back and forth.

"I need him," she said, looking at the floor as she walked. "I need him like I've never needed anything before. He is mine and I'm his. What does The Council have to do with that?"

"That's what this is, then? Simple love? Morena are you living in some tale, one with monsters and heroes, where love conquers everything? Do not be so simpleminded. There are thousands of implications to consider about what you're proposing."

"What? What are they?" she asked, her voice rising. "Whether The Council deems my offspring pure? Whether I'll be influenced by some other planet? Whether he will take over? What is it that I need to concern myself so much with?"

"All of those things," Helos said, lowering her own voice. "All and more. What of your offspring? Our bloodline has never been broken, from the first to you. Are you willing to throw that away for him?"

"Yes," she said.

"And then what of the next Var, your daughter? A hybrid of Bynum and Lorn blood. What planet will she rule? It's never been attempted before, what if she is deformed, what if she dies in the womb—what if all the children you attempt to have die in the womb? Would you end our bloodline, our entire species for this man?"

Morena stopped walking. Helos saw she hadn't considered such a possibility. Without a Var, Bynimian would die. No argument could be mounted against it.

"What of that, Morena?" she asked.

"It won't happen."

Helos laughed, unable to help herself. "You sound like a child. How do you know it won't happen?"

Morena didn't answer.

Helos remained silent for a few seconds.

"My life is more than half over, Morena. Soon, you will be Var and you're thinking like a newborn. You cannot think like this, not if you are to watch over Bynimian. You must think of them, and not of yourself. Bynimian is bigger than the Var; it's all that matters. You are here asking me something, thinking only of yourself. You cannot be Var if you rule like that."

"Then maybe I can't be Var, mother," her voice was quiet and her aura spreading out around her, beautiful and at peace. Before Helos, the Var she always wanted to raise. The Var that could lead Bynimian into the future. Only, the decision she was now making … she didn't see the far reaching consequences, or if she did, she didn't care.. "I won't give him up. If I do not receive your blessing, then there are only two choices. I either live here, not as Var, or I go to Lorn and become his wife as he rules. Those are the only options, because I will live my life with him."

"You will have to make your choice, then, Morena. Think about it and let me know tomorrow."