In the Shadow of Mountains: The Lost Girls

by David George Richards

DAVID GEORGE RICHARDS is married and lives in Manchester, England. He has been writing for several years on a regular basis. He writes science fiction, thrillers and romance stories with particular emphasis on leading female characters. Visit his website at www.booksandstories.com.

  Also available by David George Richards:

  Romance

  An Affair of the Heart

  The Look of Love

  The Dreamer

  A Fine Woman

  Mind Games

  The Friendly Ambassador Series

  The Beginning of the End

  A Gathering of Angels

  Changes

  Walking with the Enemy

  The Twelve Ships

  In the Shadow of Mountains

  The Lost Girls

  The Return of the Sixpack

  The Tale of the Comet

  The Dragon King

  The Althon Gerail

  The Sullenfeld Oracle

  In the Shadow of Mountains:

  The Lost Girls

  by

  David George Richards

  Copyright 2012 David George Richards

  Licence Notes

  All rights reserved.

  When life throws you an unexpected chance –grab it fast, because you never know when a dragon might eat you.

  Prologue

  Sowing the Seed

  The Twelve Great Ships had once ruled the heavens.

  Amidst the greatest battles they triumphed. Mighty fleets fell to their power and whole worlds were turned to ash. Together, there was no force to equal them, but even when apart, the sight of one of them approaching, or the mere knowledge that one of them came, was enough to cause instant terror.

  Civilisations fell in turmoil and panic as populations rioted and fought for ships, killing each other before the fire descended from the skies. Planetary defences were left unmanned as soldiers deserted to join the rest in pursuit of escape. But for those that did escape, space brought little safety. The Great Ships picked off mercilessly any vessels that fled the doomed worlds they visited. And they visited many.

  But this was not how it had always been.

  Built by the Navak in their vengeance, the Twelve Great Ships were at first the vessels that brought freedom to conquered and enslaved populations. But those who had held sway before them did not give up their control without effort. At the Battle of the Black Cross Nebula, the Androktones, the Clones of the Tun-Sho-Lok, amassed the greatest space fleet ever seen. From far and wide the ships of the Androktones came, but at the moment of their victory each then saw a genetic flaw in the other, and disaster struck. The carnage that took place during the battle was indescribable, and once again it was the Great Ships that held sway and the Androktones were defeated.

  But although defeated, the Androktones were not vanquished.

  Amongst the confusion and the immense loss of life, three of the Great Ships were boarded. The fighting inside the ships was vicious and horrific, with no quarter given or expected. On two of the Great Ships the Androktones were victorious, fleeing the lost battle with their prizes. On the third, all perished in blood and fire, the Great Ship ripped apart in successive and violent explosions.

  In the years that followed, the two stolen Great Ships were a scourge to all in the galaxy. They went separate ways, visiting world after world, bringing death to all they visited and fear to those who waited. But it was to the Navak homeworld that they went to first.

  Vengeance and hatred was all that now fed those who survived. The remaining Great Ships still in the control of the Navak hunted those now in the possession of the enemy. And when hunter and prey met, the engagements were colossal. One of the stolen ships was finally caught and destroyed in this way. But one Great Ship always stayed ahead of the chasing pack. One always reached another world and brought death and disaster before help could arrive. One always triumphed in battle no matter what the odds. One had a charmed life that defied logic.

  Soon the odds became even and only two Great Ships survived. The Navak had named their ships after celestial events or legendary beasts. These were names that befitted such military might. The two that now survived were the Dragonfire and the Tail of the Comet. The Androktones cared nothing for such names, they cared only that they stayed ahead of those who pursued them and that they could continue to rain fire and death on the incorrect; those who did not match the genetic code stored in their brains. That meant everyone. But the many battles and skirmishes had taken their toll, and the once Great Ship in their possession was now cracked and bleeding. The hound was on their heels, equally wounded, but eager as ever; and the fox needed a bolt hole.

  The men had been cruel, vicious, and evil. They had pursued her for days. She had killed some of them, but it didn’t seem to matter. The arrow had been the end. She had fallen from her horse, and they had pounced on her before she could recover, stabbing her, and throwing her on her back.

  But it wasn’t her life they had wanted, not yet anyway.

  She had closed herself off against the pain and the barbarism of their assault, as first one took her and then the next, and the next...

  The blood had run freely from her wounds and she had become weaker and weaker as the weight of their bodies thrusting down on her drove the air from her lungs. It seemed to take forever, and yet it was over so soon.

  When she opened her eyes it was dark. Blood quickly got in her eyes and made her blink. She could hardly see, she could hardly move. Her vision blurred and finally focused, and she looked up to see a man with a sword in his hand. He held it over his head, and as she watched, he chopped down at her.

  Everything went black, but the lights stayed on. She should have been dead, but instead she lived.

  They had left her soon after. Abandoning her broken and bleeding body, leaving her in pain, not yet dead, but not really living. They must have thought she was dead. She was dead. Dead, but still alive. She lay there, alone now, waiting, thinking.

  For a while she had enjoyed the chase. She wanted them to catch her; she wanted the chance to kill them. She had fought well and they were stupid enough to come close. And once she had turned the tables on them and hunted them in the night, killing two as they slept by their fire. It was like a game, and she had revelled in it.

  And why not? It was her life, her Purpose, and if they should offer themselves to her, why should she not kill them? And what had they gained? If she should die now, she had still killed many while they had only killed her. And she had lived a long life while their lives were short. They were the losers.

  But she was not content to die now.

  The numbers killed didn’t matter. It was the man with the sword and those with him that angered her. They still lived, they had escaped, and deep down inside her she still wanted to kill them. There was still a Purpose within her.

  You are dying! They will escape you!

  There has to be a way to pursue them!

  There is a way!

  When she had fallen from her horse they had torn her sword from her grasp and thrown it aside. She could still feel it nearby. Not with her hand, but with her mind. And as she began to fade, and the cognisant side of her mind finally slept and became still, the dark side of her mind came awake and took form...