Descent

by Charlotte McConaghy

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Copyright

  What the fans have been saying...

  Amara

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Anna

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Nayana

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Harry

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Luca

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Jack

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Characters

  Charlotte Mcconaghy

  For Ouma

  What the fans have been saying...

  ‘Wow! I picked up your book one day on a whim and could not put it down!’

  —Jacky

  ‘Hey, I absolutely love you! I can’t decide [which character] I like better, Jane or Elixia, but I definitely loooove Fern. The ending of Arrival made me cry! Can’t wait for Descent.’

  —Anna

  ‘I read your book on the recommendation of a friend and found it to be absolutely wonderful! I cannot wait until Descent comes out=)’

  —Naomi

  ‘Hey, loved the book! Can’t wait for the next!’

  —Joe

  ‘You are FANTASTIC! Arrival was the best book to read...it’s been so addicting that I finished it in 2 days! I can’t wait for the other books to be published and I congratulate you for writing something that will, in the future, become known to every teenager out there!’ BEST BOOK EVER!!: D:D:D

  —Kristina

  ‘I’m 12 and me and my best friend just finished reading your book! It was INCREDIBLE! although you probably already know that!=) We were dying to know what your next book will be called and when it will be out!!! I’m sooooooo excited to read the next book!’

  —Rachel

  ‘I’ve been searching all over the internet for some kind of news about Charlotte and the next book...so can’t wait for the next one, I stayed up all night reading the first!’

  —Jacky

  ‘I’m Cheri from Taiwan (13 years old). A friend of mine just came back from New Zealand and she lent me a book that she borrowed from the school library. It took me two days to finish it and I totally love it!’

  —Cheri

  ‘I just finished reading your novel Arrival. It was fantastic to say the least. Well done on such a fantastic achievement. Looking forward to the next installment.’

  —Janelle

  ‘I’ve read Arrival and I just wanted to let you know I really enjoyed it. I particularly liked the characters you created. I can’t wait until the next book comes out.’

  —Lucinda

  ‘By the second page of Arrival I was ensnared. I couldn’t put it down and spent all day reading it and now I want the second book. Please, please tell me that it is going to be released soon and how quickly I can buy it.’

  —Avid reader

  ‘I SO enjoyed reading this book. Lord of the Rings-ish ... with shades of Juliet Marillier and pinches of 80s movie fantasy classics like Labyrinth and Willow. If you like epic, sweeping sagas that are unapologetically global-romantic with that YA gilt edge, then you’re in for a treat.’

  —Aimee

  ‘I read Arrival and I truly fell in love with it, it’s an amazing book with a fantastic story. So much love and adventure blended together. I just can’t get enough.’

  —Lilly

  ‘Your book was seriously COOL! I just ADORE Jane and Fern. Can’t wait to get my hands on the Arrival sequel.’

  —Emili

  Part 1

  Amara

  ‘Do you realise that there is a serious problem here?’ Amara asked her parents angrily. ‘Don’t you understand what is happening to our people?’

  ‘Do not be so dramatic,’ her mother said, sighing.

  Amara stared at them incredulously. ‘Listen to yourself! You lecture me on how I’m not fulfilling my duties as princess and not adhering to behavioural codes, when we stand in the face of a threat to everyone’s lives! Do you think your priorities might be a little mixed up? You are not doing your duty as High King and Queen! Our people need leaders—’

  ‘Amara!’ her father snapped, ‘Do not speak to us in such a way—remember your place here!’

  ‘I may as well remember my place—you’ve both certainly forgotten yours.’

  Amara breathed out and tried to compose herself. They stood in her father’s study in the palace at Amalia, and she knew that outside the walls her people were gathering, frightened to their core because they understood that something was coming for them.

  ‘All right,’ she said evenly. ‘Tell me what plans you have. Outline what actions you are going to take to rectify all of this.’

  ‘How do you expect us to know what to do?’ her mother replied. ‘Nothing like this has ever happened before!’

  ‘It’s your job to know! You have to know—there is no one else. You need to think of something.’

  ‘Darling, you just worry about getting to the dinner on time,’ her father said. ‘There will be several prospective suitors there. Let us worry about the rest.’

  Amara stared at her parents. She was just sixteen years old, and hated her life in the palace. The boredom and monotony were driving her mad, and in truth she would admit to feeling a little excitement about the situation that had arisen.

  She shook her head slowly. ‘Get to the dinner on time,’ she repeated. ‘I won’t be at the dinner at all. I’m sorry. I’m leaving.’

  ‘What?’ her mother exclaimed.

  ‘I’m leaving Uns Lapodis. I hate it here. I hate it. And if you are going to behave like this, then I’m ashamed to be a daughter of yours. Ashamed to be the princess of a regime you symbolise. I’m going away. I don’t know when I’ll be back.’

  There was, of course, uproar from her parents. They wouldn’t let her go, she was too young, the world was dangerous, it was not appropriate for a princess to be travelling on her own...

  It went on. But she left anyway, feeling as though she might suffocate if she did not. So many things weren’t right anymore. She needed something else.

  So Amara disguised herself as a commoner and boarded a ship for Cynis Witron. It was there, they said, that there was a wise man at the top of a mountain, and she knew that if she did not find help then there would be none.

  Something terrible was about to happen to the world of Paragor.

  Her journey took a long time. Finally she reached the shores of the new land and set off on horse-b
ack. It seemed to Amara that the moons, Lindel and Jael, shone more brightly in this country. Maybe it was the presence of freedom, finally, clearing her vision.

  Most nights she managed to disguise herself and sleep at taverns, but even then it was dangerous—few failed to recognise her beauty, even if they did not know her name. So Amara, High Princess of the treaty countries in Paragor, slept under the stars in a forest that seemed as big as the world, and it came to be that she stumbled upon a battle. One of the first of the war. It had all begun.

  Hiding in a grove, exhausted from her travels, she fell into a fitful sleep, hoping she’d come far enough away from the battle that the armies might not find her.

  Some time later, Amara awoke under the stars in her small glade of cedar. Bright flowers surrounded her, shimmering in the evening light with a beauty she’d never known. Mist hugged her body so that it seemed like she might be in a place that held a little magic.

  Her white mare was nearby, grazing quietly.

  Amara sat, lonely and frightened, shivering though the air was warm.

  That was when he came. Out of the forest, out of the mist. Tall and dark, walking with a steady, graceful stride.

  There was a sadness about him, and wisdom, despite his youth. He walked heavily—as though he carried the burden of immense things inside him.

  Amara was the High Princess. She’d met countless people, from all backgrounds. She had conversed with aristocracy, had met the most intelligent, wealthy dukes, and had danced with many lords. And yet she had seen nothing like what this man held in his eyes.

  Jael, the peace moon, came out from behind a cloud and shone down into the glade, casting a strange blue light. Diana, goddess of the twin moons was watching.

  The man was close now, and she could see the wounds that covered him, the slight limp when he walked. She should be afraid. He was clearly a warrior—there was a long sword in his hand and he looked as though he could use it. But she wasn’t afraid. Not at all.

  He stopped in front of Amara and bowed his head. She saw herself reflected in his dark grey eyes. She saw the cut on his cheek, and the wound in his chest.

  ‘What do you do here, lady?’ he asked softly, something very intimate in his deep voice.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she replied truthfully. ‘I think we stand in a place where many things are unknown.’

  ‘True spoken.’ He paused, hesitating. ‘I do not wish to intrude, but ... might I ask of you your aid? It is not much, but I am wounded and very weary.’

  ‘You might ask it,’ she said softly. She did not have to give it. She was in a place of beauty and not a little fear, with a man who was armed and unknown to her. She was confused and weary herself. She did not have to give it.

  But how could she not, when her heart had belonged to him from the moment he appeared out of the mist? How could she not, when she had found the other half of her soul in the time it takes a man to walk across an open glade?

  She tended his wounds, using water from his pack and strips of his shirt, and what little knowledge she had of such things.

  He made no sound, but she could see the pain in his eyes, and he saw it reflected in her own.

  ‘What is your name?’ she asked.

  ‘Fern,’ he replied.

  ‘And you come from the battle?’

  He nodded. ‘I must go back. Now that I can.’

  She looked at him and nodded.

  But he didn’t move. He sat with her in that place, despite what was happening around them. He might have asked who she was, to be sitting in the midst of a glade waiting, seemingly, to heal his wounds. But he didn’t. Finally he stood, casting a last look down at her, giving her everything he had to give by simply meeting her gaze. And then he smiled, and she felt the world change.

  He didn’t say anything before he left, and she closed her eyes that she might not have to watch him walk away.

  Chapter 1

  Outside time and consciousness, in a place far from the known world, a creature of malevolence was growing. And as it grew in strength, powered by remembrance and anger and hatred, so did it struggle.

  The bindings that had been placed on it a thousand years before were strong, the banishment powerful, and yet all this time it was growing, feeding itself on thoughts of revenge, sustained in the knowledge that soon it would be free.

  ‘So. Where the hell are we?’

  Jack and Mia stared at each other. They were standing in the middle of a wide, sparse plain, cold wind ruffling their hair. A large stone monument nearby read: In memory of all those who died here in the fight for freedom. There was definitely no beach cliff anywhere in sight.

  In the distance was a huge, high wall. A castle’s spires rose behind it, its colourful flag flapping in the breeze. To their right there looked to be some sort of marshland and far in the distance they could see puffs of smoke billowing into the air.

  ‘Is that—a castle?’ Jack asked, shading his eyes as he squinted into the setting sun.

  Slowly Mia turned to him. ‘What do you know. I guess it worked after all. I guess we got through the portal.’

  ‘Well, well, well.’

  Jack and Mia spun on their heels. A young man atop a grey horse stared down at them. The horse was breathing deeply, its flanks sweating.

  The boy’s expression was one of rapt amusement, despite the fact that his cheeks were flushed as if he’d been riding hard.

  Mia cast a glance at Jack then turned back to the boy. He looked to be about their own age—maybe sixteen or seventeen—but there was something about his manner, something in his dark eyes that made him seem older.

  ‘The long lost saviours are here at last,’ he murmured, his voice deep and soft.

  They stared at him, uncomprehending.

  ‘Who are you?’ Jack asked bluntly.

  ‘No one important. My name is Altor.’

  ‘Well I’m Mia and this is—’

  ‘I know who you are,’ he interrupted smoothly.

  Jack folded his arms. ‘I find that hard to believe.’

  The boy’s smile grew wider. ‘No one in their right mind would be standing out here at this time of day unless they were brand new.’

  Mia blinked, unnerved by the way Altor was so still atop his horse. She couldn’t take her eyes off him, but she wasn’t sure why—she was edging between fascination and distinct unease. The breeze ruffled the end of the boy’s black cloak, and Mia shivered. The air had a bite to it, even though it had just been sweltering on the cliff. By the height of the sun, it was going to be night soon.

  ‘Where are we?’ she asked finally.

  Altor dismounted his horse gracefully. He was of medium height and build—he should have been completely unremarkable, and yet he wasn’t. There was a large bow slung over his back, and a quiver of arrows on one shoulder.

  And there was a sword at his waist.

  A sword.

  Fear fluttered in the pit of Mia’s stomach. The boy certainly seemed malicious. On top of which there was an unexplained sense of urgency to the way he kept looking at the sky.

  ‘You are in a world called Paragor,’ he told them, leaning against his horse and gazing at them through long lashes. ‘An entirely different existence to where you’ve come from. And I’d suggest you get used to it, because there’s no way back.’

  Jack made a show of rubbing dirt out of his ears.

  ‘Uh ... what?’

  Mia had a stupid, hysterical urge to laugh. ‘He was right,’ she muttered, shaking her head. ‘The bastard Harry was right after all.’

  ‘Never let him hear you say that,’ Altor warned, eyebrows arched.

  ‘You know him?’ Mia exclaimed. ‘Harry is here? Where? And how?’

  Altor stroked his horse’s mane before turning back to them. He grinned the slowest, widest grin Mia had ever seen. ‘Don’t ask me how or why, sweetness, but the two of you are a little late.’

  Before either of them had a chance to respond, Altor clapped his
hands, looking at the sky again. ‘We’re out of time,’ he snapped, all amusement gone from his voice. ‘If you want to live, you’ll start walking. Very quickly.’

  Satine looked down at the parchment, chewing the tip of her quill absently. It was a strange, melancholy evening. Her thoughts kept darting to the past, tugged inevitably to a snowy morning exactly two years ago to the day.

  ‘How could you even think about working on a night like this?’ A drawling voice came from behind her and she turned to see her son lazing in the doorway. ‘Wouldn’t you prefer to come and have a drink with your only child to celebrate our glorious victory?’

  Satine knew he was trying to antagonise her. He knew she hated celebrating the war, hated remembering anything about it. ‘Do not start,’ she warned.

  Altor rolled his eyes as Satine asked, ‘How are you feeling today, darling?’

  He frowned and ignored the question, as he did every day when she asked.

  ‘Do you want a drink or not? Or would you prefer to sit here on your own and mope?’

  Satine hesitated, using the moment to scrutinise him. Was that a new line next to his eye? Was his jaw a little bit wider than yesterday? His muscles more defined? There was a desperate need in her to memorise every hair on his head, every freckle on his skin, every expression that crossed his face, in order to gauge how fast it was working, how quickly he was changing.

  Altor gazed back at her defiantly. ‘What do you see?’ he asked softly, and there was no disguising the rage in his voice.

  She plastered on a false smile. ‘Nothing new.’

  Altor’s mouth stretched into a bitter grimace. ‘Liar,’ he said, but it was a mild rebuke. Leaning against the doorframe lazily, Altor looked away from his mother. Trying, as always, to escape her concern. ‘Come now,’ he said, looking up at her through hooded eyes. ‘I only came to tease you about your sulking and implore you to join me in the festivities, but as usual you seek to depress us both with all the problems in life.’

  ‘Not all the problems,’ she muttered, turning back to her desk. ‘Just one.’

  ‘I’ll ask it again then,’ he replied. ‘Will you come and join me?’

  ‘Altor, my heart, some of us have to work. We cannot all charm our way through life.’