“This guy has a pulse. And this one.”
They were checking all the bodies.
“Except for the nasty brute, they’re all alive.”
I gasped. Except for the one who had been closest to me, my voice hadn’t killed the men, just stunned them. I stored that fact away for later examination.
“No signs of any wounds. I wonder what killed him.”
The men were clustered around the awakening bodies. Now was the time to escape.
“Split up and search for the attacker. He can’t be far away.”
I could hear shouts behind me, but my feet had wings. I darted from my hideout and dodged through the underbrush. Finding Jarryd and the boat was uppermost in my mind. Mother’s life might depend on it—if she was still alive.
I swiped away the tears that blurred my view.
Two hundred feet beyond, I spied another guard and flattened to the ground. With toes and elbows, I inched to the edge of the forest and rolled into a small meadow of tall grass.
The dewy vegetation turned my clothing into a cold sodden blanket as I lay motionless on my belly. In the surrounding forest, the crackle of twigs and the crunch of feet on decaying underbrush warned of men approaching.
“This way,” a nearby guard yelled. “They’ve found them.”
I held my breath as footsteps pounded across the terrain fifty feet from where I hid. I curled into a ball, expecting at any moment to feel the angry prod of a weapon, but the boots passed my location. Finally, there was silence.
I rose to my knees and glanced ahead. The way was clear.
Scrambling to my feet, I hunched as I ran. The island was home ground and I knew the best route to get to the dock where Jarryd had hidden the boat. Strong and fast from my Steepchase training, I was confident that I could outpace the guards.
As I neared the water, I tried to ignore thoughts of Mother and Jarryd that lingered at the edge of my mind, but it was hard to contend with the trepidation and sadness. There was no time for reflection, only survival and freedom mattered. Without them, I couldn’t find Jarryd and save Mother.
My acute hearing detected a soft whoosh to my left.
Too late. I felt a prick in the side of my neck. What was happening?
Circe cried out overhead as my hand swiped at the stinging invader.
My legs buckled. Flaccid muscles refused to respond.
As I fell to the ground, a shadowy outline approached. Who was he?
Lethargy staged the world in bizarre slow motion as I watched the figure through blurry eyes. Questions scrambled my dulled senses.
What about Mother and Jarryd?
Would I ever see my family and friends again? Or Circe?
As my senses dimmed, a gravelly voice commanded. “Take her to the ship.”
BRYNNA’S ADVENTURE CONTINUES IN
THE LOST PROPHECY, THE FALCON CHRONICLES BOOK 2
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Excerpt: The Lost Prophecy: The Falcon Chronicles Book 2
Far From Home
I awoke to dark, sweet oblivion before reality barged in and took my muddled brain hostage.
Nausea drenched me in a shivery sweat as I lay on my side, lurching back and forth. A soggy mass clogged my mouth. I pressed my tongue against it, but couldn’t dislodge it. In the cold darkness, my head felt as heavy as a watermelon. Where was I?
Gradually memories returned. Mother, Jarryd, Circe. Tears stung my eyes when I remembered Father’s death at the hands of the Delios.
Other memories quickly surfaced. Hypor City, Steepchase, the rebellion, Kaaluk, the diary. Then our island. I’d used my voice and escaped the guards. I remembered the sharp prick on my neck and men’s voices. A drug-filled dart must have knocked me out.
Bound at my back, my arms were numb. My ankles were also tied. A gag pulled tight across my lips, cheeks and circled my head. A waft of briny air confirmed I was on a ship.
Despite my persistent queasiness, all I could think of was my mother; kidnapped by Delio’s guards and vulnerable to their savageries. I strained against my captivity. I had to escape, find my brother and rescue my mother. But how?
Feet pounded nearby.
“Check her. Commander Delio will want her alive.”
The voice was muffled but the kick to my shoulder was a clear message. I rocked forward as a spear of pain shot to my fingertips.
“Hey. Are you dead?” a second gravelly voice demanded.
Not wanting to tempt another assault, I grunted as loud as my restrained mouth allowed and shifted my numb legs.
“She’s alive,” the voice confirmed as footsteps receded.
With each sway of the vessel, the side of my face scraped the hard deck. I’d been enveloped in what felt like a juba. The heavy material covered my head and face, making the air stale, and breathing difficult. I shifted and saw a sliver of light. I tossed my head, sending my senses spinning. The first time, the rough material didn’t budge. The second time, it gaped open.
I greedily sucked the fresher air into my nostrils. Several deep breaths cleared my head. I straightened my legs as best I could and arched my back to relieve the numbing pressure of the ties and deck. Something rustled beside me. I went still when I heard a faint whisper.
“Are you awake?” The female voice sounded friendly.
I couldn’t respond so I wiggled and rolled in her direction. Lifting my head, I poked my face from under the black hood. My senses spun again.
Under a mop of pink hair, two gray eyes widened when she saw the cloth tied over my mouth. “I’m Trill. We’re on a transporter heading to Prima Feminary.” She lifted her hands and showed me the ropes on her wrists. “I’m tied as well, but one of the older women can help with your gag. Only their feet are bound.”
I lifted my head but was overcome by dizziness. The material closed over my face as I flopped back down. I felt someone press my side. A woman started to hum. Tears filled my eyes when I recognized the melody and the voice. It was my mother’s.
Gently she pushed away my hood. My heart swelled when she cradled my face in her hands. Her fingers moved to the knotted gag, finally releasing it. A gentle smile curved her lips. The faint light of a deck lantern revealed every familiar feature and swelled my heart with love, but her dull eyes held no recognition.
For several moments, my dry, sore throat wouldn’t work, even though the gag was gone. Finally I managed a croaky “Mother”. It was enough.
A sweet smile of recognition bloomed on her face. She reached out to me again, but stopped when heavy steps shook the deck.
A bulky form approached and a burly arm threatened to strike her. “Get back, old woman.”
She withdrew to sit with Trill and another woman. Once the man departed, she returned. While caressing my cheek, she hummed a familiar folk song.
As she sang, my stomach settled and my body relaxed. I had questions and fought to remain awake, but her soothing tones lulled me into peaceful sleep.
“Brynna?” Mother’s voice intruded into my dream of home and my warm bed.
“It’s too early,” I moaned.
The pressure of a finger against my lips brought
me fully awake. “Quietly,” she murmured. “The guards might hear us.”
Awareness settled around me. I hadn’t slept long. It was still night. I couldn’t see her, but I felt Mother’s breath fan my cheek as her arms clasped us together. Salty tears coursed down my face and stung my parched lips. I savored her loving embrace until I remembered.
“Father.” The memory pierced my heart.
“Yes, he’s gone.” The simple words were drenched with loss.
My tears welled again when her wet cheek pressed mine. I wanted to soothe her hurt and grieve for my father, but this wasn’t the time. We both understood the gravity of our situation.
“Can you release my hands?” I suspected her eyesight had deteriorated further when she didn’t look down as she groped my wrists and worked at the bindings.
“They’re too tight and caked with salt. If only I could see.”
I remembered a cloaked figure hunched near Trill. “Isn’t there another woman nearby? Perhaps she can help.”
“Trill’s aunt. Her hands are gnarled by arthritis and she’s extremely weak. Seasickness.”
I understood. The rocking motion wasn’t far from my thoughts. Taking several deep breaths, I tried to calm my stomach.
There was little I could do to get free at the moment. Even if freedom was possible, was there any chance of escape from a ship in the middle of the ocean? I shuddered at the thought of miles of frigid water.
I squirmed and lay my cheek on Mother’s lap. “Tell me how you got captured.”
A sobbing breath rattled her body. “Hypor guards arrived yesterday morning. I heard their voices and smelled fire so I ran from the greenhouse to confront them. Roddy was in the falcon mews and heard the commotion. He stopped me before I reached the house and convinced me to go to the village. I hid in Old Joe’s fishing hut. When the soldiers came, Joe tried to distract them. I overheard him deny my whereabouts. There was blaster fire and then nothing. I think they killed him,” her voice trembled. “I couldn’t risk another life being lost, so I surrendered.” After a pause, she sighed and shook her head. “I suspect everything is gone.”
I shuddered as images of the charred remains of my childhood home flooded my mind.
She straightened and lifted her chin. “Tell me what has happened in Hypor City.”
Not wanting to linger in sadness, I followed her brave lead. “After Steepchase, the rebels exposed Premier Delio’s deception. The people revolted but the Delios escaped. Perhaps they ordered your kidnapping, hoping to use you as a hostage.”
“I think the Genetrix wanted me apprehended too,” said Mother. “On the island, as the guards passed the greenhouse, I overheard one of them mention her. I suspect she’s working with Prince Delio and his father.”
I cringed at the thought of that alliance, especially when my mother was their target. “I don’t know about the others, but Premier Delio is dead. Jarryd saw Prince pull a blaster and shoot his father.”
She gasped. “A despicable act. Your father always suspected the son was hungry for power.”
“There’s a rumor that Prince was mistreated by his father.”
“I’m not surprised. Your father’s reports of Delio’s erratic outbursts at council meetings and his paranoid behavior pointed to the possibility of madness in that family. The son must be similarly afflicted.”
“I don’t understand why he would want to hurt you?” I pressed my cheek to her hand as it stroked my face.
“Delio’s twisted mind probably wanted revenge. As for the Genetrix, I’m not sure what she wants.” She paused. “Have you learned any more about the solar threat?”
“We’ve been focused on exposing Delio. Now that he’s dead and the rebellion is over, I’m certain the scientists will resume their search for a solution.”
My mind returned to our present situation. I glanced around the deck. “How many more women are on board?”
“Just the four of us, I think. I haven’t heard any others.”
“How were Trill and her aunt captured? Were they also somehow connected to Hypor City?”
“She told me the guards landed on her island. Her uncle tried to fight them off but suffered the same fate as Old Joe. I’m not sure why Trill and her aunt were taken.”
A punishing gust of wind burst across the deck. The boat pitched wildly on rough waves. Bile rose and soured my throat. I closed my eyes and gulped for air, trying to stem the sickening.
Anticipating my discomfort, Mother started humming. She paused between songs. “Were you kidnapped in Hypor City?”
I shifted my head and rolled my aching shoulders. “No. After the rebellion, Jarryd and I escaped and stayed with the rebels. We were captured when we returned to our island.”
“Why did you return?”
“To make sure you were safe. Jarryd went to check the village while I took the path to our home. When I couldn’t find you and saw the destruction, I released Circe from the mews and headed back to meet Jarryd. On the way, I remembered the diary and headed for the cave to find the second one you mentioned. I found it, but on the way out, one of Delio’s guards grabbed me.” I nudged my legs toward her. “The second diary is hidden in my right boot. Can you feel it?”
She felt for my leg then prodded my calf. “Yes, but why risk your life for it?”
“I need to find out more about the prophecy. I want to know if I’m the one destined to destroy the sisterhood. It’s been haunting my thoughts since I read your note. The second diary might hold some answers.”
“It’s an old prediction. Probably nothing to do with you and best forgotten. In light of what’s happening now, it’s unimportant.” She paused briefly, then her voice choked. “What about Jarryd? Do you think they caught him?”
Infusing hope into our dire situation was preferable to adding to her worry.
“I doubt it. He’s smart and resourceful, no longer the easy-going joker he used to be. I’m sure he’s searching for us right now.” I resisted speculating what might happen to him if he had been taken prisoner. My more immediate concern was what would happen when we reached Prima Feminary.
“Listen,” Mother whispered.
The boat rolled heavily to port. Repeated thuds shook the deck, followed by the rapid pounding of weighty footsteps. Harsh male voices ripped the air. Sounds of struggle and weapons fire shattered the quiet night. Shafts of light from swaying lanterns bounced over the deck.
“Search the ship and take the young ones,” ...
… BRYNNA’S ADVENTURE CONTINUES…
GET YOUR COPY OF THE LOST PROPHECY TODAY!
Copyright © 2017 by Marjorie Lindsey
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
The Last Singer is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Book cover copyright Marjorie Lindsey
ISBN 978-1-988787-00-8 (ebook)
ISBN 978-1-988787-01-5 (print)
Acknowledgments
My eternal gratitude for my husband for his continued love and support.
Thanks to my friend/author Jacqui for her encouragement and generosity from the beginning.
Thank you also to Joan, Alan, Therese and other friends/readers for their valuable feedback.
Finally, thank you to my editor Laura for her professional insights and guidance.
About the Author
Marjorie’s new book The Last Singer is the first in her teen/young adult series The Falcon Chronicles. Visit her website to get details about other books in this adventure series:
The Lost Prophecy
The Genetrix Stone
www.Marjorie
Lindsey.com
[email protected]
The Last Singer (The Falcon Chronicles Book 1) Page 22
