by Lori Holmes
Lori Holmes
The Forbidden
Book One of The Ancestors Saga
Copyright © 2020 by Lori Holmes
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
Lori Holmes asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
Copyright © 2020 Lori Holmes
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Contents
Acknowledgement
Dedication
The Forbidden
1. Massacre
2. Escape
3. Ninmah’s Mercy
4. Eldrax
5. Fallen Enemies
6. In The Balance
7. Unexpected
8. Cold Trails
9. Nen
10. Need
11. Power
12. Stories
13. Threat
14. The Truth
15. Rise
16. Birth
17. Reckoning
18. Shalanaki
19. Decision
20. Trapped
21. Ties That Bind
22. Discovery
23. Capture
24. Defeat
25. The Will To Survive
26. Promise
27. An Ending
Epilogue
About the Author
Also by Lori Holmes
Acknowledgement
A huge thank you to the team at Writing.co.uk Literary Consultancy, for all their hard work and endless advice on editing this manuscript and helping me shape this book into what it is today.
Another big thank you goes to the team at Damonza.com for their incredible design skills in creating the wonderful book covers for The Ancestors Saga.
Dedication
To my husband, Matt, without whom none of this would have been possible.
The Forbidden
Book One of The Ancestors Saga
They came from the mountains bringing death in their wake.
Rebaa’s adopted tribe lies slaughtered behind her. Her lover laid down his life for hers and now she must fight with every part of her being to ensure that his sacrifice was not in vain.
But in daring to fall in love with a man not of her own species, she defied every lore set by the creators of humankind… the Sky Gods.
Damningly burdened with her murdered lover’s offspring, Rebaa knows that if anyone were to discover her baby’s heritage, the only sentence would be death.
For one who bears the Forbidden, there can be no haven.
Faced with the impossible, alone and hunted by unknown forces, will the bond between mother and child be strong enough to save them both? Or will the pain of losing her lover and the terror of what lies ahead first destroy Rebaa from the inside out?
The Ancestors Saga
Exciting and compelling, the Ancestors Saga takes readers on an epic journey 40,000 years into our own dark and forgotten past. As the world teeters on the brink of another glacial winter, homo sapiens are not the only human species to walk the Earth. When the destiny of the entire human race hangs in the balance, the prize for survivors will be Earth itself.
The Ancestors Saga is a prehistoric fantasy romance, combining history, mystery and legend to retell a lost chapter in humanity’s dark and distant past.
1
Massacre
Blood. It defiled the snow. It coated the rock. It dripped from the points of bone-tipped weapons. Rebaa ducked back into the pelt tent she had shared with her mate, blinded by the horror.
She must not scream. If she made any sound it would be over. It was over. The clan was destroyed. It was only a matter of time before the great face of an enemy pushed its way through the billowing opening, searching for easy prey.
The Ninkuraa woman flinched as an agonised scream split the air outside only to be cut off with a bubbling gurgle. She tried not to imagine the bone blade to the throat. It was too close. She should not wait here for murder to find her but as the instinct to flee tore through her, her heart held her fast.
Juran.
Juran had told her to stay. He had told her to wait here until he came back for her. He would come back for her once the enemy had been vanquished.
But the enemy was not vanquished.
Another dying scream rent the air and Rebaa threw herself down on her knees. Hands in her hair, she rocked back and forth in desperation. Juran might already lie among the slain and she was waiting for nothing. No. She could not think that. Her heart would tell her if he had fallen. He would come back. She just had to stay quiet and be brave until he did.
Rebaa closed her eyes. Juran should have abandoned this territory on the snowy plains. The choice to flee or fight had been his.
He had chosen wrong.
All of their strongest men had gone into the Mountain forests to draw the enemy out and the enemy had been drawn. Now they were swarming over the camp bent on extermination. Juran’s clan warriors, for all of their considerable skill, could not stop them.
A monster could not be vanquished by the hand of man.
Rebaa froze. The bitter wind scrabbled at the edges of the tent but wasn’t enough to cover the sound of heavy breathing and a slow deliberate tread drawing closer in the snow outside.
The crunching steps paused for a moment on the other side of the skins.
Go away! She stifled the sound of her own breath. Please.
The owner of the footsteps deliberated before the tip of a bloody spear came poking through the parting in the tent, pushing aside the animal hides. Rebaa covered her mouth to hold back her building scream as a huge head stooped through the gap its weapon had made.
The face that regarded her was grotesquely ugly. The elongated head was twice the size of an average man’s with reddish hair falling in lank wisps from the point of the skull. The wide set eyes that peered at her were an alarming shade of blue.
“GO AWAY!” Rebaa shrieked, scrambling back against the skin of the tent. She spoke in her native tongue, lapsing in her panic. It mattered not. Thick lips peeled back to show double rows of bloodstained teeth, stretching the pale flesh into a hideous grimace as the giant crouched to push itself further in. Rebaa clawed at the wall of the shelter behind her, trying to break free but the tough hides would not give. They were too strong. Wild with fear, she pushed her heels harder into the floor, fighting to get away as a thick hand reached forward.
“Nooooo!”
The advancing fingers spasmed in the air as the tip of a second spear came bursting through the monster’s throat. The nightmarish face contorted, its mouth gaping wide in a gurgling roar as the head flung back. It clawed at the spearhead protruding from its neck, dripping with its own bright blood.
But the gruesome wound did not stop the beast. Rebaa watched in horror as its maddened eyes refocused on her and its hand extended again; determined to reach her even as its life drained from its face. Someone unseen cursed and the spear in the monster’s throat twisted viciously to the side, eliciting the distinctive snap of bone. The clutching fingers twitched once, twice, then fell lifeless at her feet.
“Rebaa!” The disembodied voice held the frantic note of one who feared that they were
too late and would receive no answer to their call. Rebaa cried in relief and flung herself over the dead creature’s body, uncaring in her need to get to Juran.
His dark arms closed about her. Rebaa flinched at the gore and the sickly scent of death that covered his skin. The terrible sounds of the massacre continued to rage just on the other side of the thin tent walls. “Juran,” she gasped. “Please… Please…” She didn’t know what she was asking. She was shaking uncontrollably. “Please.”
She felt him nod once against the top of her head, understanding her incoherent plea. “It’s alright. I will get you out, I will get you both to safety. Come with me now.”
He disengaged himself from her and grabbed her hand, his palm hot and slick against her skin. His dark auburn hair was wild, his grey eyes even more so. There was fear there where fear had never existed before and that scared her more than anything else.
“Can you run?”
Go out there? A shout cut off by a wet gurgle made her balk violently. No. She could not go out there.
Juran held her firm, shaking her arm. “Rebaa, you cannot stay here! If you do, you will die, you will both die!”
Both. Her free hand went to her rounded belly. The thought of their unborn baby’s life gave her the strength she needed to stand upright and give her mate one firm nod. Yes, she could run.
Pride flickered through Juran’s grey eyes before his expression hardened with determination. He yanked his spear free from the hulking corpse on the floor and warm spatters of blood sprayed across Rebaa’s face. “Ready?”
Not trusting herself to speak, she simply raised her chin in answer.
Juran threw apart the flaps of the shelter and dragged her into the battle beyond.
The brightness of the snow outside was blinding. The world blurred as she stumbled in Juran’s wake. Red. White. Movement. Death. The ferocity of the fighting tore against her senses. As a Ninkuraa she could feel everything. The fear, the anger, the lives as they blinked out of existence.
She fought to close it all out as Juran wove his way through the struggling mass of bodies, only half aware that they were heading towards the steep escarpment on the edge of the camp. Its summit had been used by the lookouts to spy prey and approaching danger. There was a concealed path that wound up into the foothills of the Mountains, half hidden between the rocks.
Rebaa collided with the back of Juran as her mate came to an abrupt halt. A shape had risen out of the snow before them, blocking their escape path. The creature peered out from under a freshly flayed bear skull that adorned its head. The milky eyes of the bear still rolled, lidless, in the grisly sockets. The sight was enough to make Rebaa’s knees go weak.
In one motion, Juran pushed her back and out of reach, bringing his spear to bear. The giant figure leered down at them, pleased with its catch. It had been waiting to block deserters such as them. Long stone blades protruding from each massive fist raised in challenge as Juran stepped forward to meet him.
“No!” Rebaa gasped. She cast about, looking for the rest of the clan to rally in support of their chief but they were gone, dead or dying. Juran stood alone. After everything they had been through, she was about to watch him die.
A gutteral roar sounded the attack. The giant made a lunge for Juran, moving faster than Rebaa would have ever thought possible for one so large. Had Juran still occupied the space, the stone knife would have run him straight through. With astounding reflexes he twisted away from the knife. In the same fluid motion he jabbed a blow towards his enemy’s midsection. The spearhead made a stinging bite to the pale flesh. The creature snarled in frustration and swung with his other knife. Juran danced back, sure footed as a spear cat. The monster hadn’t even got close.
Rebaa felt a flicker of hope. As a warrior, she had never seen Juran’s equal. He lunged and parried, wielding his spear like an extension of himself, a Cro warrior in all his savage glory. Pride filled her heart. Maybe he would survive this.
The beast yowled as Juran’s spear cut deep into the muscle of its leg. It fell backwards a step, breaking away from Juran’s relentless attack. Its eyes flickered once in Rebaa’s direction as Juran came on, closing quarters once more, not allowing the beast to recover. Snarling, the giant struck hastily with its knives. Rebaa thought she heard Juran chuckle as he dodged almost lazily to the side. He swung his spear mockingly, daring the creature to reengage.
It had been a feint.
The clumsy strike had achieved its goal. Juran had left Rebaa exposed. Ignoring the Cro warrior, the giant lurched forward on its wounded leg, extending the weapon in its right hand as it bore down on the Ninkuraaja woman. Mesmerised as she had been by the deadly dance, Rebaa was caught unprepared. She stumbled backwards, tripped on a rock and went down in a heap.
“No!” Juran leaped into the air, spear raising over his head as he prepared to land a killing blow down through his enemy’s skull.
The beast’s eyes gleamed in triumph as it heard Juran’s cry of denial. With inhuman speed it twisted to face the attack. Dropping one of its knives, it grabbed the haft of Juran’s extending spear, yanking him down out of the air and off balance.
The other knife was waiting to sink deep into Juran’s belly.
“Noooo!”
Juran did not flinch as the blade entered him. Even as his triumphant enemy grinned in his face, snapping his spear in two within its mighty grip, Juran was drawing his own bone knife. He let his enemy pull him close before he struck, then buried his weapon into the beast’s eye, pushing it on and up through the long, foul head.
The remaining eye rolled back and the monster fell dead at Juran’s feet.
Dropping the now useless remains of his spear, Juran collapsed to his knees in the snow.
“Juran!” Rebaa bounded to her feet and ran to his side. A growing stain of blood was creeping through the furs covering his belly. She sucked in a sharp breath. “Juran…”
“It’s nothing.” He grabbed her hand again, pulling it away from his violated flesh and heaving himself to his feet. “You need to get out of here. Now.”
The escarpment rose up before them. Juran’s breath came in laboured gasps as he pushed Rebaa towards it. A thin stream of blood was spilling from the corner of his mouth. Her fear for him was almost enough to crush her but she told herself that they were going to escape. They were going to survive this disaster. Juran would recover and they and their baby would go on.
She hurried towards the safety of the concealed path but as she started to climb she heard a soft thump in the snow behind her. Juran had fallen to his knees and was holding his hand to his bloody midsection.
She ran back. “Juran, please, come on!”
He ignored her, turning his head to face the battle still raging on the plains and the screams of his dying clan.
“There is nothing more you can do for them!” There was no time to waste. He would not survive a second battle if another one of those creatures appeared. She pulled on his furs. “We have to go!”
He shook his head before grasping both her arms in his hands. His beloved grey gaze was awash with regret but the fear was gone, replaced by a calm resolution. Rebaa’s throat tightened.
“Go, now,” he said. “Run as fast as you can. Take our baby. Get to safety.”
“Not without you!” Rebaa pleaded. “Juran! There is nothing you can do for them! Come with me now. I need you!”
He smiled softly at her then down at the hand clutched to his midsection. His fingers were dripping with blood. “You know that I cannot. Not now.”
Immediately, she reached a hand for his wound.
“Leave it!” He grabbed her wrist. “There is no time.”
“Juran, please!” Their baby squirmed inside her and she felt sick with panic. She needed him if she was to face the consequences of what they had done.
He did not answer. He let go of her arms, his hands going to his neck and the necklace that hung there. His bloodstained fingers were shaking as he pulled
the leather thong over his head. In the same motion, he placed it over Rebaa’s neck, letting the carved spearhead dangle next to her heart; the symbol of his position as chief.
“Take this. Give it to our son when he is strong enough. Whatever he may turn out to be.” He drew his thumb over the carving of his clan’s totem, marking it with red. “My own blood.”
“You can give it to him yourself. Don’t leave me!”
“I will never leave you,” he promised. “Remember that. I will always come back to you but you have to go now while I do what I can for my people. But know I will come back to you.”
Rebaa stared up into his unwavering eyes and felt the strength go out of her limbs. “Do you promise?” she asked in a hushed voice. She already knew the truth in her heart but she still needed to hear the lie.
“Yes.”
Gating a sob between her teeth, she threw her arms around Juran and held him close. “I promise to give this to our son, I promise.” He buried his face in her hair as his own arms went around her. She felt him shudder. “Come back to me,” she whispered. “I will wait for you.”
She could not look at his face again. If she did, she would break. She would never leave him and their baby would die.
Rebaa tore away from his weakening grip and fled up the path. Tears blinded her as she scrambled up and up. She could not keep herself from glancing back once, but Juran had already disappeared. Only a streak of blood marked his passage, leading directly back to the massacre.
2
Escape
Rebaa was scrambling over the last rocks of the escarpment when she felt it, a severing in her heart as the presence her whole life had become bound to was snuffed from existence. The pain of it sent her to her knees as the world blurred before her eyes. She doubled over, clutching at her chest as the aftershocks of the severed bond rolled through her.