by S. S. Segran
Aegis Desolation
by S.S. Segran
Begin Reading
Publication Information
Dedication
List of Characters
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Praise for the Aegis League series by Amazon bestselling author S.S. Segran
“Astonishingly imaginative and thoughtful…”
— Samuel F. Pickering, inspiration for Academy Award-winning movie Dead Poets Society
“If I could give this series more than 5 stars I would! Excitement, drama, heartfelt characters and an excellent plot makes these books hard to put down!”
— Teri Colglazier, Amazon Reviews
“Continuing with their expert pacing and growing lore, the Aegis League books provide constant thrills and excitement. This installment is arguably the finest example of those qualities yet.”
— The US Review of Books
“RIVETING! Prepare to be swept away on a breathtaking journey!”
— Honore Gbedze, The SAGE Foundation
“I discovered the Aegis series back when there was only book one. I was impressed then. After reading book three now, it re-enforces my original opinion that this is definitely a writer worth watching! She is in my top ten favorite indie authors, and I'll be waiting rather impatiently for book number four!”
— L.J. Capehart, Author of the Trevalian Magic
“This has it all! Sci-fi, action and adventure. Can't wait for the sequel. One of the best I have ever read.”
— Bob Meredith, Amazon Reviews
“S.S. Segran wields a skillful pen that transcends her youth by crafting haunting prose, vivid imagery, and a well thought-out plot to cast herself into a mix of young authors to watch.”
— Christopher Gill, Amazon Reviews
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
AEGIS DESOLATION by S.S. Segran
Copyright © 2021. S.S. Segran. All rights reserved.
First Published by INKmagination Apr. 2021.
Printed in the United States of America
Cover Design and Illustrations © 2021 by S.K.S.
Book Teaser & Trailer by: INKmagination.
S.S. Segran asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this book.
eISBN: 978-0-9910813-9-4 (eBook)
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic or otherwise, without the prior permission of the author.
Receive free short stories, exclusive giveaways, advance reader opportunities, and updates directly from the author. Visit www.sssegran.com to subscribe as an Aegis Insider.
To the strength and resilience of the human spirit
that will see us through life’s many trials
“Goodness exists independently of our conception of it. The good is out there and it always has been out there, even before we began to exist.”
— Epictetus, 50-135 AD
“Though we may not see it when it happens, or even after the dust has long since settled, it is only through the cracks of our life where the light is let in.”
— Elder Ashack
An Ancient Sea,
Circa 750 B.C.
“Auntie Kanta! Auntie Kanta, look! Aren’t those the Pillars?”
The boy watched as the woman on the other side of the sailboat struck a power pose, fists on her hips as she gazed into the distance. “Indeed they are, Oten!” She glanced back at him. “Why, you look positively nauseous, dear nephew. What is the matter?”
The boy shrugged. “Nothing.”
“Tch, come now. No lies.”
“I am not lying!”
His aunt grinned, her different colored eyes gleaming with mirth. Oten slumped against the gunwale, dark hair flopping over his face, and muttered under his breath. Kanta cupped her ear with a hand. “I beg your pardon?”
“I said, do not look at me like that!” the boy whined.
Kanta threw her head back, guffawing. “I am only teasing, Oten. Tell me what is wrong.”
Oten motioned with his chin. “The Greeks say we ought not to sail past that. That there is nothing beyond the Realm of the Unknown.”
His aunt made a noise of exasperation. “Do not tell me you believe them. Oten, our people have made voyages far beyond this point and returned perfectly unharmed. We know that there are more communities and civilizations past what is around this body of water. We trade with them, for goodness’ sake.”
“I know, I know. It is just . . .”
“Just what?”
“Nothing.” Oten could feel his aunt’s piercing gaze on him and changed the subject. “So why is it that we still refer to the Greeks as if we do not share their blood?”
Kanta tilted her head to the side, the last conversation promptly forgotten. Her sun-bleached hair bounced with the breeze. “Well,” she said, “we do share their blood, but there is a difference. The Greeks whom our Phoenician ancestors became one with had broken off from their brethren on the mainland—the Athenians. Both of our ancestors had grown tired of their civilizations’ warmongering and odious rituals, and sought a more peaceful and meaningful life.”
“But that does not answer my question,” Oten said.
“They still hold onto their superstitions, Oten. Our seafaring ancestors, who brought the Athenians the alphabet, built a new life with the Greeks who’d broken from their kin. They’d cut away from those fallacies and rituals and become their own people. Enlightened.”
Oten frowned. “And neither of our bloodlines on the mainland wanted to join the new community?”
“And be forced to give up their ways? Of course not. It takes great strength and courage to step out and start life anew. But that is not to say we do not respect the discoveries and philosophies of both sides. We take what we know, and we build on it to create something better.”
“Oh . . . So that thing you are testing, is it one of their discoveries that you have improved?”
Kanta reached into her satchel and pulled out a circular object the size of her palm. She popped open the gold-and-ivory lid, gazing down at it proudly. “This,” she said, “is my own creation. Is it not beautiful?”
Oten crossed the boat with a few paces and locked his arms around her. “Ooh, shiny!”
Kanta rubbed the side of his head. “It is. Would you like to know what it does?”
“Finally!” Oten yelled. “Finally, I will get answers! Do you know how long I have been patient? Since you invited me on this trip! That is two whole days!”
“You have been very patient, indeed. Thank you for that.”
“So? What is the big secret? What is this thing? Do you even have a name for it?”
“Ach, slow down, nephew.” Kanta lifted her hand higher so Oten didn’t have to strain over her shoulder to see. “The farther our people go to explore this world, the harder it becomes to map and remember our way back. This device will help make finding our home easier. I am yet to name it, but perhaps you can help.”
Oten let go of his aunt and slid back onto the deck. “I like that idea. I think I need to know how it works first, though, so I can choose a good name.”
But Kanta wasn’t listening. She stared directly ahead, then
prowled toward the bow. “Tsk, this is not good. Oten, we might have to alter our course for a while.”
Oten scrambled to join her, deftly avoiding the square sail as it swung around. He leaned past the railing, squinting. “Are you using your far-vision, Auntie? Because I see nothing.”
“I am, and a storm is headed our way. It is gathering speed and girth quite fast, too. Come, help me secure everything before we take shelter.”
“Is there someplace we can go?” Oten asked, cautiously treading toward the small cabin aft as the boat rolled with the sea.
“There are a couple of coves near the Pillars.”
Oten popped back up after tying down their personal belongings and bags. “Uh . . . but that will take us closer to the storm, will it not?”
“Yes, but since they are tucked away on the leeside, the coves will be the most sheltered place out here.” Kanta brushed her hand through his hair as she passed him. “Rest easy, nephew. We will be just fine.”
Though anxious, Oten didn’t argue. As his aunt worked the sails, tacking against the wind, he kept his eyes fixed on the horizon. A black swell of clouds gained momentum as it churned toward them. Though there was still a fair distance between it and the boat, the temperature dropped quickly. Oten tightened his sailing tunic around his small frame and pulled the heavy hood up.
“That is a big one, all right,” he gasped. “Are you sure we will make it to the coves in time?”
“Of course,” Kanta said, like it was the most ridiculous question she’d ever heard.
They rode the waves with relative ease until the sea began to heave and roil. The storm, now no more than a few miles away, signaled its speedy approach with the rolling of thunder. The sea sprayed water onto the boat like a snake spitting venom. Oten swiped a hand across his face, the taste of salt on his lips. Kanta fought with the sails to stay on course, and they submitted after a bout of defiance.
“Nearly there!” she whooped as she steered them toward safety. “Did I or did I not tell you that we would be fine?”
Oten snickered. “I aspire to one day attain your level of confidence, Auntie.”
“Big words. Have you been reading the thicker volumes from the library?”
“Obviously. I even brought one of the books with me!”
“You what? Nephew, we do not read out at sea! We marvel! We go through self-discovery; and storms, like we are now!”
“You can do the same thing with stories!”
Kanta chortled. “Bookworm!”
Somehow, Oten never found himself in the grasp of fear when he was in his aunt’s company. Her tough but easygoing attitude was exactly what he wished to emulate as he grew older. He wanted to make the younger children on their island feel as safe with him as he did with her.
“I think we are deep enough into the cove,” she called. “Drop the anchor!”
Oten pushed the hefty weight over the side of the boat, letting it fall with a hard splash as the fiber rope uncoiled after it, then weaved his way over to her. “Done!”
She draped her arms around him. “Good. Now all that’s left to do is wait out this storm.”
No sooner had she spoken than the water around them started to throb with growing swells. Oten clung onto Kanta’s wrists. “Auntie . . .”
“Everything is just fine, Oten,” she said softly, holding him tighter.
He peeked around her, and the blood rushed out of his face. “No, it is not.”
The storm had grown in breadth, spilling over into the cove and expanding toward the travelers. Kanta suddenly let go of Oten. “Get inside,” she ordered.
“What about you?” he protested.
“I will try to get us to shore. Go, Oten!”
Oten submitted to her demands. Inside the cramped cabin, he looked out of the small porthole that faced the incoming storm. The boat rocked wildly, sending him flying from one side of the craft to the other. Using some hooks attached to the side of the cabin, he kept himself upright long enough to see his aunt struggling with the sail.
She needs help! he thought.
He ran back out. Rain pelted his face like stones. Pulling his hood lower, he called out. “Auntie Kanta!”
“Oten!” came her voice from the other end of the boat. “I told you to stay inside!”
“Yes, but—”
The waves tossed the boat high into the air before letting the craft slam back down so hard Oten thought his stomach had been driven into his chest. He took a second to catch his breath, then yelled, “Let me help!”
“Oten, go back!” Kanta snapped. “It is not safe out here!”
“It is not safe for you either! Let me help!”
She shouted back but was drowned by the crackle of thunder. Oten gulped. It sounded like it was right above them. Shakily, he navigated the sea-soaked deck toward his aunt. Kanta grasped his hand, hair plastered to her face; she looked angry at his disobedience. He braced himself for a reprimand but a sudden surge knocked them both off their feet. Oten tumbled back onto the gunwale and instinctively latched to it.
He turned to look for his aunt and screamed. She had tumbled over the railing, the lower half of her body dangling over the side of the boat as her fingers tried to dig into anything she could find.
Oten lurched toward her. “Auntie!”
She found him through the chaos. “Oten!” she barked. “Catch!”
The next thing he knew, she hurled her unnamed creation at him. The device—the very reason they’d gone out to sea to begin with—arced through the air before landing in the middle of the deck. Her command in his ears, Oten dove for it. Just as his hands clasped around the device, one final swell heaved the boat over completely, sending aunt and nephew into the dark depths of the sea.
Dema-Ki,
30 years ago
The tall man strode through the trees, a spring in his step as he inhaled the fresh forest air. He tilted his head back, a small smile on his lips. A brush of wind whirled through the branches, blowing back his black hair.
This, he thought. This is nice. How blessed are we to live in such tranquility? Where all is at peace and nothing is amiss. After a moment, his smile faltered and he scowled. This is not working. Why is positive thinking not working?
The day had started off with his gut twisting the second he’d opened his eyes. He tried to ignore it, telling himself that everything was fine, that his village and his people were well. He wanted to believe it with every fiber of his being. Otherwise, it meant that the object of his concern was at play yet again.
Just do it, Nageau, he griped inwardly. Get it over with. See if she is up to her foolishness.
He pricked his ears, activating his enhanced senses. A voice carried across the valley like a nightingale’s song, but her words were a blade’s tip tinged with hemlock. Nageau picked up his pace, black-and-silver cloak riding his wake.
He crossed one of the bridges connecting the north and south sides of the village nestled within two small mountain ranges, then headed westward toward the temple. He could see the grand structure at the top of an incline as he marched along the river that split the valley.
Zooming in his vision, he sharpened his sight until a group of people gathered outside the temple came into focus. They were seated on the grassy knoll around a youthful woman with flowing burgundy tresses. A shock of white hair fell across her face, and her smile was vibrant, even seen from Nageau’s distance. Garbed in a fitted sleeveless tunic dyed purple and white, with dark leggings and moccasins, she stood out from the rest of the crowd.
It would have been an uplifting sight if not for the words that left her mouth.
“It is our destiny,” the woman enthused, lifting her arms grandly. “We will remake the world.”
“But how would we recreate it?” asked a young woman seated in front of her.
She beamed. “Excellent question, and the answer is found in the prophecy itself. We must unleash the fires of Cerraco—destroy it all, then build it back up
, much like the legendary bird itself. ‘From the flames of Cerraco, five will arise’ . . . We will have five classes of society, none above the other. Equals in every way. Cohorts in a single cause, united by our strength and belief. A new stewardship for a planet that has given us all so much. But.” She paused. “We cannot accomplish this while tethered to Dema-Ki.”
Nageau hurried forward, reaching out to the woman telepathically, but she refused to open her mind to him and continued speaking.
“Our old ways need to change,” she said. “But the Elders are bent on protecting archaic ways of thinking, such as not allowing us to step into the outside world and interact with the rest of humanity. Yes, sometimes they inform us of the goings-on from the Sentries, but that is not enough. And even with the little we do hear, it does not sound promising. Our species is lost and needs a guiding hand. Our guiding hand. We can show them a new way to be, to exist. But we cannot attempt any of that under the leadership of our current Elders. A change in the Council will be a step in the right direction.”
When she caught sight of Nageau appearing behind the group, she locked gazes with him, mauve eyes filled with fire verging on defiance. Then she looked back at the intrigued faces at her feet. “This species has proven to be one that is not capable of altering course unless under threat of severe consequences. So perhaps what they need are severe consequences so they can properly learn to live in harmony with one another and the planet.”
“Reyor!” Nageau called sharply. The gathering turned to him, but the woman did not. He tempered his tone and carved out a smile that he knew did not reach his eyes. “Perhaps we should go for a walk.”
“It is not the first time this has happened,” Nageau said as they emerged from a tunnel in the rock wall that connected their home to a neighboring valley. “Having tolerated your discordant interpretation of the scriptures, the Elders have continued to show you forbearance with the hope that you will come to your senses. While you have the right to your own opinions of the prophecy, you must not impose them upon malleable minds.”
