Void Born

by R. J. Metcalf

  Void Born

  Stones of Terrene Chronicles

  Book Two

  R. J. Metcalf

  Copyright © 2018 R. J. Metcalf

  Published in Santa Clarita, California by R. J. Metcalf

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be

  reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means

  without permission in writing from the publisher.

  This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places,

  and incidents are either used fictitiously or are products of

  the author’s imagination. All characters are fictional, and any

  similarity to persons living or dead is coincidental.

  Printed in the United States of America

  Cover design © 2018: Magpie Designs, Ltd

  Photo credit: Pixabay

  Model: Eric Sasina photographed by Bryan Wark

  Texture credit: Sascha Duensing

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  Chapter Sixty

  Chapter Sixty-One

  Chapter Sixty-Two

  Chapter Sixty-Three

  Chapter Sixty-Four

  Chapter Sixty-Five

  Chapter Sixty-Six

  Chapter Sixty-Seven

  Epilogue

  Map

  Void Born Register

  To my monkey boys whom I love so dearly. Axel and Zack, may your adventures continue with the same vivid color and excitement that you see the world with now.

  Acknowledgements

  This book is brought to you by chai, rumchata, and carbs.

  Well, not entirely. But partly.

  There’s a small army of folks behind this work, and they’re the true rock stars that made this possible.

  So first and foremost, I want to thank my amazing hubby, Mike, for, well, everything. He’s the one who created this entire world in the first place, as well as imagining what happens to who, and when, and how. (So, readers, don’t blame me for the initial idea of what happens—blame me for the emotion behind it.) Mike’s the one who had to put up with my desk light on till two in the morning, and had to put up with my zoning out mid-conversation only to then ask, “What do you think of Raine doing…”, as well as all the adventures he took our boys on while Mommy stayed behind to work. Thank you, babe. You rock.

  Many thanks to my parents and their tireless sacrifice and understanding when I can’t come over to help because my edits are due, and their constant offer to watch the kids for a day so I can write without distractions. I owe y’all’s sanity much.

  Huge shout-out to Lizzy and Dan D’Elia for their willingness to come over and hang out with my energetic, explorer boys, entertaining them with crafts, projects, and yard work. They adore you guys, and I appreciate having friends that I can cackle maniacally around while I write.

  My Paladins. My “framily.” Y’all are the best sounding board for ideas, rants, tears, and all the in-between emotions that writers face. Thank you for the late night laughter, the mid-day chatter, and the early morning banter. I am so thankful to the Lord for bringing us together in the most unexpected ways to fulfill the hole of framily that we never knew existed. May the well of creativity never run dry.

  And so many thanks to my production team! My amazing, patient, lovely editor, S.D. Grimm. My book cover wizard designer, LoriAnn Weldon, and our model and photography team, Eric Sasina, Bryan Wark, and C.W. Briar. My incredibly patient formatters, Sarah Delena White and Julia Busko. My eagle-eyed proofreader, H.A. Titus. My sensei and map maker extraordinaire, Jamie Foley, and my fighting consultant, Keanan Foley.

  And the Lord. Thank you, God, for the gift of words. For the beauty of creation and your love and kindness and forgiveness for us, throughout our stubborn stupidity and sin. Thank you for salvation through Jesus, and the hope of a brighter future.

  Prologue

  Christopher

  Christopher unlocked the front door as fast as he could while holding his breath. The entire porch reeked of nausea-inducing pepper cigar smoke, and there was no summer breeze to sweep away the foul air. Pamela coughed beside him, her eyes watering. He pushed the door open and hurried into the tiny entryway, forcefully exhaling in an attempt to get the bitter taste out of his mouth. Pamela kicked the door shut, walked past Christopher, and dropped her straining cloth bag on the stained table in front of Victor.

  Victor Kalende. The coven leader’s own nephew. The one who’d been trapped on the southern side of the barrier for some sixty-odd years. At least he still worked for the good of Elph-kind, unlike the Elph in Antius who’d betrayed their brethren by settling in with the humans.

  Christopher tapped his boots against the threadbare rug in the entryway and then cut through the small main room, bypassing an empty couch that had seen better years. Stained walls, saggy furniture, and a funky smell that didn’t quite dissipate were among many of the less-than-pleasant aspects of Victor’s bolt hole. But it was a roof over their heads and a base of operations, so it would suffice until their mission was done.

  There was no sign of the three other two-man teams. Maybe they were having some luck infiltrating the Doldran palace. Or perhaps they were resting in one of the back rooms. Or maybe they’d found the puppet they’d expected to be working with.

  Victor pulled on the fabric edge of Pamela’s bag and peered in. His black eyes peered up to Christopher. “No apples?”

  “Didn’t find any.” Christopher shrugged, and something in one of his bags clunked. He set them on the table next to Pamela’s, then slid out a rickety wooden chair and dropped into it with a grunt. “Everyone else still out?”

  “Indeed.” Victor hooked a finger on Christopher’s bag and tugged it closer. A rare smile brightened Victor’s face. He pulled out a bunch of red grapes and popped one into his mouth. “Report.”

 
; Pamela sighed behind Victor’s back and rolled her eyes at Christopher, then grabbed the two bags closest to the Elph and moved them to the simple slab of wood that served as the kitchen counter. “Please don’t eat all that we just bought, sir. I was going to serve those with dinner.”

  Christopher’s breath hitched at the irritation in her tone. What if Victor didn’t like her insolence? He had control over their blood-bond. The things he could do to her . . .

  Victor raised a black eyebrow at her, holding her gaze while he chewed and swallowed his grape. He dropped the bunch back into the remaining bag on the table and flicked his fingers as if he’d gotten juice on them. “Fine. Report.”

  Christopher forced himself to not look at Pamela. She’d been pushing and testing Victor’s limits ever since they’d arrived, trying to figure out the exact boundaries, and what kind of Elph overseer he’d be. Just because Victor hadn’t taken advantage of his control didn’t mean he wouldn’t snap and decide to show his power over them at a moment’s notice. She was dancing around a sleeping dragon, and one of these days, they were both going to regret it.

  Christopher shook his head and angled his chair to be able to look into the kitchen, then stretched his legs out in the small walkway between the table and the kitchen. He rubbed at a kink in his calf. “They’re still looking for us in the city. You, specifically.”

  “No surprise there.” As if reminded, Victor started tugging his rolled sleeves down, covering his tattooed forearms. Even if he’d kept the sleeves cuffed above his elbow, none of the humans in Doldra would be able to pick out the blood-bond markings amongst all the other things Victor had inked on his paper-white skin.

  Pamela stood over Christopher’s shoulder and tapped his head with her elbow. “He shouldn’t go out anymore, either.” They have sketches of him up, and they’re accurate enough that even with a haircut, it’d be too easy to recognize him.”

  Victor shrugged. “It was only a matter of time.” He waggled his fingers in her direction. “Are you working on dinner yet?”

  Pamela’s eyes tightened, and she nudged the back of Christopher’s legs with the tip of her shoe.

  He pulled them back long enough for her to grab the last bag and haul it into the kitchen, then he sprawled them out again. “I’m impressed with the sketch of you they have in the City Circle.”

  “Oh?” Victor crossed his arms and smirked up at the ceiling. “What’s so great about it?”

  “Well, for one, they have two pictures of you,” Pamela said. She started pulling carrots out of a bag, examining each one before setting it on the counter. She leaned her hip against the cabinetry and frowned as she brushed her hand against a crease in her yellow skirt. “They have one that’s quite accurate to you now, and I’m guessing the other is from last time you were here.”

  Victor’s cheek twitched, and he looked at her from the corner of his eye. “From the last time I was here?”

  “Yes.” Christopher set his palms against the table and pushed himself up, hoping Victor wouldn’t take his next words as a challenge or an insult. “From when you failed at the keystone, sir. You had a ponytail for that, right?”

  Victor’s eyes glittered as he rubbed a long-fingered hand over the hair growing in on his head. “They have a sketch of me from then?”

  Pamela nodded. “Rumor has it they have someone in the palace who saw you back then.” She slid a worn cutting board on the counter and dropped two cloves of garlic onto it. She used the flat of a knife to crush them, immediately filling the air with the pungent scent and masking the lingering cigar smoke. She tossed the garlic in an oiled pan. Christopher pulled an onion out of a bag and handed it to her before she could ask.

  Muscles tensed in Christopher’s back as Victor remained silent, tugging on his earring as he stared at the distant wall. The Elph stirred after several minutes. “They must believe the returned Doldran prince if they have that picture.” He glanced at the door. “My colleague”—his emphasis on the title spoke volumes of his disdain for the man—”should arrive sometime tomorrow.” He gestured at them in the kitchen. “Once the rest of your teams get back tonight, we’ll discuss the plan. We still have much to do before we leave town, and it’s going to be harder if I can’t go out.”

  Brown paper crinkled in Christopher’s hands as he set the package of wrapped meat on the wooden counter. He shook his head and tied back his black hair into a short ponytail. This setback wouldn’t compromise their mission, but Victor had proven his determination to do everything he could to hurt Doldra and the royal family that was supposed to rule here.

  Not that it would matter in the long run. Soon enough, the barrier would be down, and southern Terrene would feel the price of their betrayal from when they turned their back on central Terrene.

  Chapter One

  Ben

  Ben rubbed at the headache throbbing behind his eyes as he leaned against the wall of a bakery, content to let the flow of passersby move around him. Zak Monomi, the fashionably challenged Kerlee, towering Ash, and several other crew members had been searching the city for Victor, but their fervor was giving way to grim resolve. Too much time had passed without anything to show for their effort. The trail was getting cold.

  It had been five days since they’d laid Captain Slate to rest. Five days of questioning Jade’s birth father, Brandon. Five days of posting sketches of Victor and his Void Born ally, Christopher. Five days of no clues. No leads. Nothing to show for their time and effort.

  Meanwhile, Jade stayed in the palace, healing from her injury under Finn’s expert care, and languishing from lack of action. It wasn’t any easier for Ben, returning to the palace empty-handed, despite his freedom of health and status to be out and about. And as bad as it was for Ben, it was even worse for Zak, who was stuck between wanting to stay with Jade while she processed everything, and wanting to search the city for Victor.

  At least they knew Victor hadn’t succeeded yet. Even now, the purple barrier wavered in the sky on wind unfelt by Ben. The relieving backdrop only barely kept the panic at bay.

  One more day, and Ben would be leaving with the Phoenix crew to search for leads elsewhere. Time was running out.

  He shook his head and shoved his hand through his hair as he pushed away from the wall and slowly walked in the direction of the City Circle, paralleling the steamtrans tracks embedded in the road. The others were likely already taking a break for lunch, wherever they were in the city today. But the scent of roasted chicken (or was that dragon?) didn’t even tempt Ben. I have to make every minute here count. I have to figure out how I got to Terrene—not to mention how to get back home.

  His eye twitched as he passed a tailor shop window. A garish yellow sign with “No Monomi traitors allowed here” painted in red ruined the image of a peaceful storefront.

  Not everyone in the city decried the Monomi clan’s actions. In fact, most people Ben had talked to had praised the Monomi for their long-lasting loyalty to the Doldras royals. These people spoke with great excitement about “Queen Jade” and how wonderful it would be to have a proper Doldras on the throne again.

  Those people were the hardest to talk to. Just suggesting that Jade wasn’t ready to take up the throne right away got him odd looks. Trying to say that she didn’t even want the throne? That was a battle he’d learned early on that he wouldn’t win. Ben scowled at the ground as a steamtrans rumbled up the middle of the street.

  All this, and he somehow had to get back home. To High Normandy. To Sara, his sister.

  Ben grimaced and shifted to the side of the narrow walkway to allow a mother and her brood of children by. He wanted to help his friends here. He wanted to hunt down Victor and prevent their land from being destroyed. He wanted to see them succeed. Protect the innocent lives here.

  But he needed to return to Sara. He needed to make sure she wasn’t abandoned by her last living family member. He needed to take care of what he had.

  And the only way to get back home would be t
o get whatever answers he could about how he got here in the first place. And the only person he could think of that could possibly have a clue was the shopkeeper who had freaked out at the sight of his dog tags months ago, when he’d first been in town. What was his name? Lance?

  Ben entered the shop and slipped toward the back, unnoticed by Lance who was talking to a customer at the front counter. Ben checked each aisle to make sure the store was clear of anyone else while Lance chatted amiably with the older lady, her reedy voice reaching into every corner of the room. Ben selected a wood-handled toothbrush and cringed. Hopefully he could avoid a splinter on his tongue this time. Who knew I’d be homesick for my toothbrush? He passed a shelf littered with shiny charms, and he paused to run his finger along a tiny silver cat.

  “For me?” Sara’s voice rose an octave as she tried to contain her squeal.

  Ben grinned as she pulled her blonde hair aside and fastened the necklace. She moved the chain this way and that, catching the intricate details of the sleeping feline charm, and he tugged on a stray curl that had escaped her ponytail. “I wanted to get you something before I go.”

  “Thank you, I love it!” Her plum perfume tickled his nose as she threw herself at him, then tilted her head back to look at him through squinted eyes. “This isn’t some sort of morbid goodbye gift, is it?”

  His smile faltered, and he buried the flash of dark foreboding under a cough as he hugged her. “Of course not. It’s just for fun.”

  Ben shook himself free of the memory and pushed a finger through the mess of charms until he found what he was looking for. Silver chains of various lengths hung on a wooden rack, and he slipped one off, adding it to his little collection. He peered over the crowded shelves to see the lady shove her purchases into a gaudy beaded bag before pausing at the door and turning to blow a kiss at the tanned shopkeeper. Lance’s smile looked strained.

  Ben waited for the door to close fully before he walked up to the counter. Lance had turned away before he could have spotted Ben, stocking the shelf with a bolt of gauzy fabric. Ben set the toothbrush and jewelry down, then cleared his throat. “Excuse me?”