The New Angondra Complete Series

by Ruth Anne Scott

  Suddenly she felt the slab of stone tilt and she seemed to get higher. She realized that the men were climbing a set of steps up into an ancient-looking stone building. The hall they carried her down was lined with torches contained within bright metal cages and featured thick tapestries in shades of green and black. She couldn’t tell what the tapestries depicted and by the time they reached the end of the hallway, she had given up attempting to decipher them and lowered her head back down on the stone slab to ease the tension and pain forming in the back of her neck from trying to hold her head up while not being able to move her arms or legs.

  The sound of a heavy door opening filled her ears and she watched as a tremendous doorframe passed overhead. Her captors had carried her into a sprawling room so vibrantly bright after the muted light of the corridor that it hurt her eyes. She closed them, squeezing them as tightly as she could until the burning stopped and she no longer saw the pinpricks of color dancing on the backs of her eyelids.

  When she opened them again she realized that the room was not bright simply because there was more light in it than there had been in the corridor or in the small room where she had woken up. Instead, it seemed intensely bright because it was completely lined with mirrors. Now that her eyes had gotten accustomed to the refracted light, Layla was able to look up and see that the ceiling reflected the floor and the walls, creating a never-ending series of reflections that was dizzying in its depth. From the reflection above her, she could see that the men carrying her were all dressed identically in hooded green cloaks nearly the color of the sunset she had seen when she awoke. Black gloves covered their hands and the hoods concealed their faces so that she was not even able to determine their age. She only assumed they were men because of their size and strength.

  Layla felt the men lower the slab of stone to the floor and she turned her head to see the men walking away. Smaller figures in hooded purple robes approached and she felt the ropes at her wrists and ankles loosen, then soft hands come to her arms and gently lead her up to a sitting position.

  "Come with us," a sweet, almost musical-sounding voice said.

  Layla felt like she had no choice. She knew that she should run, but the compulsion was tempered by the realization that she truly had nowhere to go. Until she had some concept of where she was or how far she had come, she wouldn't be able to escape. Though whoever these people were had been gentle with her so far, she had no idea how they would react to her should she attempt to get away from them. Instead, she allowed these smaller figures, who she assumed to be women, to guide her away from the stone slab and across the mirrored floor toward a platform at the far end of the room.

  They walked up a steep set of stairs and she saw a deep tub cut into the center of the platform.

  "What is this?" she was finally able to force past the tightness in her throat.

  "We must prepare you for Jiri," the same voice that had beckoned her to follow told her.

  "I don't understand," Layla said.

  The figures eased their hoods off and Layla saw that they were all indeed women. Young, softly beautiful women all wearing the same braids in their hair and calm, complacent looks on their faces. The one who had spoken to her reached forward and started to push her cardigan off of Layla's shoulders. Layla hesitated and saw a smile come to the woman's lips.

  "Do not be afraid of us. We won't hurt you."

  The way she said it made Layla feel even more nervous and she relaxed the tension in her shoulders so that the woman could pull off her cardigan. She let the women undress her and for the first time she noticed that her clothing had tears and streaks of dried mud. She tried again to think back on how she got to that place, but she could only remember running. There was nothing beyond the woods where she ran.

  Once they had removed all of her clothing, one of the women took her hand and carefully led her to step into the tub. The water felt so hot it almost stung her skin, but the sensation was a soothing distraction from the chill of the night outside and the uncomfortable feeling of the confusion and fear that continued to trickle along her spine. She climbed down a series of steps deeper into the water and then crossed the tub so that she could sit on a low bench across from the steps.

  One of the women picked up a bowl and poured the contents into the water, immediately changing the shade of the bath to a light pink that seemed to shimmer with touches of gold. A velvety, sultry scent touched her nose and she took a deep breath to fill her lungs with it. Her head swam slightly with the effect and she felt her body starting to relax into the hot water. Another of the women picked up what looked like a complex pitcher, used one hand to carefully tilt Layla's head back, and poured more water back over her hair. This seemed to be some kind of beginning for the other women, who started moving around her, picking up bottles and vessels, and bathing her quietly. She let them lift her arms to wash them as the woman with the pitcher cleansed her hair. After several minutes she felt brave enough to speak again.

  "Who is Jiri?"

  The first woman smiled at her again.

  "He is the youngest prince."

  "The youngest prince? Of where?" she asked.

  "Of this planet."

  The answers were so vague and delivered with such soft, unassuming tones that they sounded almost like riddles.

  "What do you mean this planet?"

  Just as the words came out of her mouth, Layla noticed that the sleeve of one of the women's robes had lifted away from her wrist as she poured water over Layla's shoulder, revealing what looked like large glowing gems embedded in the flesh of the inside of her lower arm. Layla grabbed her wrist before she could move her hand away and turned the woman's arm over so that she could look at the gems more closely.

  "What are these?" she asked.

  She saw the women exchange glances.

  "Do you know where you are?" the woman asked her.

  "No. I can't even remember where I was before I was brought here."

  The women looked at each other again and Layla could see something in their glances that told her that something had happened that was even more serious than she had originally thought.

  "Should we tell her?" one of the women asked.

  "Tell me what?" Layla demanded, "Who are you? Where are we? What has happened?"

  The questions poured out of her in rapid-fire succession and she felt like she was screaming in contrast to the consistent, even quiet of the women. There were a few more seconds of silent tension before the woman who had first spoken to her looked back at her.

  "You are in Orion's Belt."

  Chapter Three

  Layla stared at the woman, waiting for her to say more, but she didn't continue.

  "Orion's Belt?" Layla asked, her voice quieting, "Like the constellation Orion?"

  The woman nodded.

  "The constellation, yes."

  "I don't understand."

  "People of Earth think that they understand everything about what they see through their telescopes. In reality, there are whole worlds that they look right at and never actually see. This is one of them."

  Layla tried to process what the woman had just said to her. Her mind was spinning and she was having difficulty making her thoughts cohesive. It wasn't until the woman grasped her hand and gently pulled it off of the other woman's arm that she realized she was still gripping it tightly.

  "These are star stones. We are born with them. Their size and shape correspond with the patterns of the stars the day we are born and throughout our lives they show our thoughts, emotions, and needs."

  "Who are you?" Layla asked, her voice falling to a whisper.

  "My name is Sylan. And you are Layla?"

  "Yes." Layla was startled that the woman had said her name so casually, as if it was not unusual that she knew it, "How did you know that?"

  Sylan smiled and reached for another small vessel on a table beside the tub.

  "Jiri chose you," she said, t
ipping the vessel to pour another sweet-smelling liquid into the bath.

  Layla watched as the liquid swirled through the pink water, adding ribbons of lavender and soft silver sparkles. She looked up at Sylan quizzically.

  "He chose me?" she asked.

  "Yes. You must be very special. I have never heard of a prince choosing a human woman before."

  Layla paused before she asked her next question. She felt that the answer could be something that would change her life, and after she heard it she would never be able to go back to before she had. Finally she took a breath.

  "What did he choose me for?"

  "The princes are warriors and they need special care. We care for them when they return from official duties or from battle."

  "Each of you takes care of a prince?"

  "Yes. Each prince is given a nurturer of his choice when he comes of age. As the youngest, Jiri was the last of the princes to choose his nurturer."

  "How did he choose me?"

  She wanted to say if we are from different planets but she was already having a difficult enough time comprehending that she had not just been kidnapped, but kidnapped by an extraterrestrial species that had brought her away from her planet to one that she didn't even know existed. Saying it would have forced her to acknowledge it, and she was not yet prepared to do that.

  "He's been watching you. Our men often visit your planet for recreation and on his last visit, he saw you."

  "Where?"

  "I do not know," Sylan said, suddenly looking uncomfortable, "I have already told you more than I likely should have. We do not talk with the princes. We are tasked to care for them, and that is all. I overheard Prez talking to his brothers one night when I was preparing his bath for him. I should not have listened."

  She looked suddenly terrified and Layla got a knot in her stomach. Sylan obviously feared the prince who she was tasked to nurture, and perhaps the others as well. That meant that Layla might need to be afraid of the man who had chosen her. The women looked so calm and content, but Layla wondered if that was because they weren't near the princes at that moment.

  "I won't tell anyone," she assured her and Layla saw Sylan give a shaky smile, "What do I do to…nurture him?"

  "Help him with his needs. Feed him, massage him, tend to him whenever he needs you. You will eventually learn to anticipate what he needs and wants before he asks for it. That is a good thing. It is easier for the princes to never want for anything."

  "Come on," another of the women said, "Jiri has been expecting her. We do not want to keep him waiting."

  At that, the women began to move more quickly, finishing washing Layla's body and then helping her out of the tub to carefully dry her with soft, plush towels. They spent a few minutes styling her hair in the braids that the others wore and using soft powders and creams to apply color to her lips and eyes. Finally they dressed her in little more than lingerie and wrapped a purple robe like theirs around her. She was one of them now, a part of a people that she didn't know or understand, struggling to remember what she had left behind and terrified of what might await her in her future.

  When they deemed her ready, the women guided her back down the steps away from the tub and through the mirrored room to a door on the back wall. Sylan opened the door and gently pushed Layla through it into a long, narrow white hallway.

  "This is Jiri's wing. We are not allowed to step in with you. He may be in any of the rooms, but they generally like the ones at the end of the hall the best. Find him and he will let you know what he needs."

  Layla's eyes drifted down to Sylan's arms and saw a faint red glow emanating from the cuffs of her sleeves.

  "What does the red light mean?" she asked.

  Sylan looked up at her and for the first time the woman's face looked sad.

  "Fear."

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  About the Author Ruth Anne Scott

  Ruth Anne Scott was born and raised in the Shire of Middle America (otherwise known as Telluride, CO) and spend her childhood hiking, sightseeing, and exploring the wilderness around. As a young dreamer and creator her favorite pastime was and still is to sit on the moss covered banks of San Miguel river to write and create her fantasy worlds.

  As a postgraduate she spent much of her adult life working at Amnesty International, doing research into women's rights abuses around the world. Ruth continued to write fantasy as a means to escape the harsh realities of the world around her.

  This is the reason Ruth likes to incorporate strong and savvy women in her fantasy works.

  The boring part: Now a full time author and artist, Ruth can usually be found hunched over a keyboard or tablet, frantically trying to get the images and words in her head out and onto the screen before they drive her mad. She's addicted to coffee and can be found at the local coffee shops :)

  See all her books at: http://www.amazon.com/Ruth-Anne-Scott/e/B00Z9BQ2EI

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