by West, Shay
Copyright 2013 Shay Fabbro
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Cover Design by Eric Malbone
Edited by Katie Flanagan
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to similarly named places or to persons living or deceased is unintentional.
PRINT ISBN 978-1-62015-135-8
EPUB ISBN 978-1-62015-110-5
For further information regarding permissions, please contact
[email protected].
Library of Congress Control Number: 2013938694
I dedicate this book to my sisters, Cimarron and Bree. Thank you for all the wonderful years full of laughter and tears. I couldn't have done this without you!
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I have come to the realization that the writer is just a very small part of what makes a book. The finished product is more than the arduous hours spent hunched over a computer typing away at lightning speed. The finished product needs the help of a myriad of talents. The editors are there to gently (or not so gently) point out mistakes with grammar, spelling, sentence structure, flow of the story, gaping holes that a reader could drive a semi-truck through. Then there is the cover design and the formatting.
No author could ever make it through this process without friends. And I have been blessed with meeting some of the most amazing people through Facebook or Twitter that post encouraging messages when I am feeling down, encourage me when I need it, make me laugh.
So this is a big “thank you” from me to all of you. I could not have done it without you!
Earth Chosen:
Robert Marshal
Mark Vincent
Brad Phillips
Martha Stevens
Brent Fields
Sloan
Tess Golden—Deceased
Volgon Chosen:
Feeror
Kyron
Seelyr
Moylir
Voilor
Astra Chosen:
Jon Stone
Gwen Heath
Keera Flint
Saemus Barlow
Kaelin Barlow
Kromin Chosen:
Number 1 (clone 53279)
Number 2 (clone 48951)
Number 3 (clone 9684)
Number 4 (clone 70786)
Number 5 (clone 8503)
Gentran Guardians:
Brok (Astra; Master Brok)
Gerok (Volgon; Premier Viisyr)
Forka (Earth; General Ted Smith)
Mirka (Kromin; Research leader 70521)
Gentran Masters:
Ferrok
Hok
Druska
Briska
Miska
Lerok
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE: GENTRA
ASTRA
ASTRA
KROMIN
ASTRA
ASTRA
ASTRA
GENTRA
ASTRA
ASTRA
ASTRA
ASTRA
ASTRA
ASTRA
ASTRA
EARTH
ASTRA
EARTH
EARTH
EARTH
GENTRA
GENTRA
VOLGON
ASTRA
ASTRA
ASTRA
ASTRA
VOLGON
Keep reading for an excerpt from Book 3 of The Portals of Destiny: Resigned Fate
Preview of RESIGNED FATE
MORE GREAT READS FROM BOOKTROPE
PROLOGUE:
GENTRA
MASTER FERROK WATCHED the scrago as they floated lazily in their pens. His favorite beast had her head buried in the lush sea grass, nibbling on the tender shoots. Normally this pastime brought him joy, but not today.
He felt a disturbance in the water behind him. Master Briska floated around next to him. She held out a handful of green sea grass to a scrago near the side of the pen. Her mouth curled in a half smile, but it never reached her eyes.
“Tell me the Chosen can still fulfill their destiny,” she whispered.
Ferrok sighed in a blast of water that shot out of his siphon. “You wish me to lie?”
“Are you certain it would be a lie?”
“I don't know. About any of it.” Ferrok picked a piece of sea grass and methodically ripped it into tiny strands. “We thought we were doing the right thing in sending the Guardians to their new worlds early, but look what that got us: one of the Chosen is dead, and our prophets can write nothing but gibberish concerning the Chosen and the Mekan threat.” He swallowed hard against the lump in his throat. “Did we cause that?”
Briska met his violet eyes and cringed at the hopelessness in their depths. “Do you wish me to lie?” she asked.
“Yes, damn it all, I wish you to lie!”
Briska flinched at his outburst. Of all the Masters of Gentra, she had stood behind Master Ferrok and his decision to send the Guardians to the home planets of the Chosen early, going against the exact words of the prophecy. None of them ever thought any harm would come of that decision.
And now one of the Chosen was dead, murdered by another as she lay sleeping.
Maybe we were the cause.
Briska knew what was at stake, had seen it with her own eyes on the computer screens: the Mekans were coming, and with them the destruction of all life in the galaxy.
“The Guardians will be on alert, more so than they were before Tess's death. They are only supposed to be gone with their Chosen a for few weeks, only long enough to allow them to get to know one another and to see the worlds they all come from. They will keep their Chosen safe,” Briska said, trying to sound more confident than she felt.
Ferrok nodded, continuing to peel the sea grass into strips. They floated gently to the ocean floor. “I won't rest easy until they return here to Gentra.” He straightened and put on a smile, hoping it would help ease the fear clenching his heart. “I suppose not much can happen in a few weeks’ time.”
Briska forced a smile. “I suppose not.”
A servant arrived, announcing the arrival of visitors from a nearby settlement.
“We'll be along shortly,” Ferrok said.
As he and Briska swam to the main audience chamber, his mind churned. Worry for the Chosen tangled with fear of the future if they failed in their task. And flowing through it all was a voice whispering that it was all his fault that the world was going to end. It laughed when he denied it, murmured the names of those that had already been destroyed by the Mekans when he tried to convince himself that everything was going to turn out fine, despite the death of one of the Chosen.
They have to prevail.
As though hearing that desperate plea, Briska took his hand in hers as they made their way silently through the warm water.
ASTRA
“WHAT ARE THESE USELESS APPENDAGES?” Seelyr frowned in confusion as she stared down at her bare chest. She pushed her breasts from side to side. Her normal reptilian form on planet Volgon did not possess such appendages. “I understand the others.” She gesture
d vaguely at the junction between her thighs, also indicating the males of the group. “But these seem to be completely useless! How am I supposed to fight with these things flopping about?” She glared at the four Astran Chosen, who were doubled over, snickering and laughing, and for the moment, completely forgetting to be embarrassed to be in the nude.
“They are called breasts, Seelyr. They are for feeding our young. Among other things.” Keera said the last as an aside to Kaelin, who blushed as red as Keera's fiery hair.
Kaelin giggled, enjoying a moment of laughter with Keera, one of her fellow Astran Chosen. “Do Volgons not have similar organs?”
Moylir snorted, as perplexed and annoyed as Seelyr. “We certainly do not! Our young eat the same synthesized gruel as the adults of our planet.” Moylir pushed her ample breasts up, letting them fall back down. “How are these used for feeding?” She shared an irritated look with Seelyr. We will never be agile with these things flopping about. She hoped there wouldn't be a need to fight on this planet.
“When a woman has a baby, her breasts produce milk that will sustain the infant until it is able to eat solid food,” Master Brok explained. “Dress quickly, children, we need to be about our business.” He gazed pointedly at the clothing his Chosen had left behind when they had made the trip to Gentra through the portal.
The portal was still surrounded by fiery orange symbols that, when activated, would take anyone entering to the world represented by that hieroglyph. Brok hoped that meant Gwen was on her way. She had been scared to enter the portal, so he'd agreed to let her go last. If she doesn't appear soon, I'll go back for her.
Brok glared at Saemus and Jon, who seemed capable of nothing more than staring open-mouthed at the two Volgon women. Brok could not blame them. The pair made quite the impression. They were tall and muscular, with curves in all the right places. Kyron, Voilor, and Feeror, the male Volgons, were also quite impressive, well-muscled and standing a few inches taller than the statuesque females. Kaelin and Keera both tried to look everywhere but at the handsome Volgon males, wanting to sneak a peek at their most private areas and yet completely embarrassed by the thought.
“What is the other use you spoke of?” Seelyr asked.
Further discussion was interrupted by the arrival of Gwen through the portal. She fell to the ground, retching and shuddering. Keera knelt beside her friend, handing Gwen her clothing. Gwen stood and turned at the sounds of disgust coming from the Volgons.
“What is the meaning of this?” Feeror's face contorted in repulsion.
“What is the meaning of what?” Keera faced the large Volgon, arms akimbo, face tight with fury.
“That!” Feeror pointed at Gwen. “She is no warrior! How can this be?”
“She is Chosen, like the rest of us. She bears the mark of our planet.” Jon shielded Gwen from Feeror and the other Volgons who had now come to stand with their comrade.
“She is no warrior. On my world, she would have been killed at birth. Those who are deformed and weak cannot fight. Everyone knows this. Why would your world waste precious resources on someone so worthless?” Kyron sneered at Gwen.
“We have to fight an enemy more powerful than anything even we warriors have ever seen. She cannot fight. Bah!” Voilor spat to one side. He could not imagine having to interact with someone so obviously weak.
Brok pushed between the Astran Chosen and the Volgon Chosen, face filled with fury. His power welled within, ready to be unleashed. “Now see here—”
“This is folly! Everyone needs to calm down so I can explain!” Gerok's voice was lost in the commotion. Even with all the time he had spent on Volgon, training his Chosen, he'd had no idea of the depth of their repulsion for those they considered weak.
Gwen struggled into her clothes and tried to ignore the shouting. The tears fell down her face, hot streaks of humiliation falling to the dirt. Her hands shook as she fumbled with the tie on her tunic. She bit her cheek hard to keep from sobbing aloud. She did not want to give the Volgons the satisfaction. Gwen peered around from behind Keera's legs. Her friends and classmates faced the imposing Volgons, who were still shouting. At each “weak”, and “useless”, and “deformed” her humiliation grew. While on the watery world of Gentra, her dwarfism hadn't been noticed by the Volgons. She had been smaller than the rest but the gelatinous body of the Gentrans hadn't given away her deformity.
A whole lifetime of being taunted, teased, pushed and shoved, and made to feel less than everyone around her filled her with a rage that she had never allowed herself to feel until now. As her anger grew, so did the power raging through her. She looked to Feeror, who backed away from the Astrans and refused to proceed as long as Gwen was around.
Gwen snarled and moved toward Feeror as fast as her stunted legs could carry her.
Feeror laughed. “I think we made it angry!” He stood nonchalantly and waited for the dwarf girl to come closer.
Gwen moved her arms forward lightening quick. Feeror's eyes widened as he found himself thrown backward. He hit the wall hard and crumpled to the ground. Gwen grinned maniacally and used her power to pull the dazed Volgon to his feet. His comrades tried to stop her and were baffled to find that they could not get near her. The air had turned into an impenetrable barrier that they could not pass. Brok and Gerok yelled at Gwen to stop. Their words fell on deaf ears.
Gwen held Feeror against the wall, his feet a full meter off the ground. His face turned an alarming shade of purple. The big warrior dug at the vice-like grip of air encircling his throat but could find no purchase. He lashed out, hoping to land a kick to the dwarf girl, but her shield of air protected her.
“Oh, such a tough man! Can't even fight a little air,” Gwen said mockingly as she moved closer still. “Well, come on then! Let's see if you can get out of this!” She screamed, “What are you, weak and useless? HEY! I'm talking to you!” She let the Volgon drop to the ground but she still held his throat with air. She kicked Feeror as hard as she could. His movements were becoming feeble and his dark brown eyes rolled back in his head.
She continued to kick at the Volgon as he lay on the ground. She was so focused on the Feeror that she didn't notice Jon move up behind her, didn't see the black film that covered his blue eyes. Gwen felt a new power like a deep bass rumble in her chest. Her shield shattered, and Brok moved in to protect her from the Volgons, who looked ready to tear her limb from limb.
“Stop this at once! We have too much to do to waste time on such nonsense! This is why the Masters of Gentra wanted the Chosen to spend time with one another. You must work together. The fate of the galaxy rests on your shoulders!” Brok shook Gwen, who still held Feeror in bonds of air. The Volgon had ceased to move. She turned away in horror, the full impact of her actions hitting her. She let the man go and collapsed in Brok's arms, sobbing. Brok's eyes filled with tears as he held the tiny, twisted girl. He had never before realized how much Gwen had suffered at the hands of others. His heart broke for her. But she is so much more than this deformed body. She is strong in magic and in spirit. She will need both before the end.
“The girl must die! The attack on our comrade was unprovoked.” Seelyr squatted next to Feeror, who coughed and gasped for air. The man struggled to speak.
“No one touches the girl. No one!” Feeror croaked. He looked at Gwen, his face a stony mask. He stood on shaky legs, brushing off his comrades’ attempts to help. “We have work to do. We should be about it.”
Brok nodded and fixed a stern eye on Jon. He motioned for the boy to follow him.
“What were you thinking?”
Jon crossed his arms over his chest. “I got through her shield.”
Brok pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yes, but you drew on the forbidden magic to do it. Did you even try to use your own power?”
Jon nudged a rock with his toe, refusing to meet Brok's eyes.
Brok put a hand on the boy's shoulder. “Did you not read the book I gave you? The one about Lord Lucian?”
&n
bsp; Jon nodded sullenly.
“The dark power is seductive, powerful. Everyone who uses it thinks they can handle it, can control it. It's an illusion. Just as it was with Mystic Anali and Fa’ Vel, the dark magic will consume you.” Brok squeezed Jon's shoulder. “Remember the story of Anali and Lucian. We need you, Jon. We can't afford to lose you to the grip of the dark power.”
Jon met Brok's eyes and he swallowed hard. “I'm sorry. I acted without thinking.”
“It's alright, boy. The situation was quite precarious. But you have strong power within you. You don't need the dark magic.”
Jon followed Brok as he made his way back to the group, his brows drawn in anger. I can handle the dark power.
“We will stay here for the night. Saemus, you and Jon go get some firewood. I will see about getting something to eat,” Brok said, weary from the fight between Gwen and Feeror. He grabbed his pack from against the wall where he had left it before the trip to Gentra with his Chosen. It all seems so long ago. I wonder how long we have been gone. He knew, as did the other Guardians, that time did not pass at the same rate on each planet. While a few weeks may have passed on Gentra, months, even years might have passed on Astra.
“Will you hunt?” Kyron's grey eyes lit up. “I would very much like to accompany you.”
“I go to hunt, but not with weapons that you are familiar with, or could even use.” Brok gave the large man a sidelong glance. “Besides, a naked man hunting would raise more than a few eyebrows.”
“There isn't a weapon that I cannot master, old man,” Kyron said, his temper flaring.
Brok simply raised a hand, and the man stopped in his tracks, eying Brok's out-stretched arm as though it was a fearsome beast. “Have you forgotten the lesson the little one demonstrated to your comrade already? The Chosen of Astra have no need of hand-held weapons. I can find food more quickly if I go alone and do not have to worry about who might see you wandering about in naught but your skin.” With that, he exited the cave.
