by Helen Allan
“Ah, but you forget,” he smiled and put down his pencil, “I have never lived in a modern city on Earth, Sorrow. I was taken from my time, 1800, Napoleonic Egypt to be precise, and transported first to Danny’s villa in Roman Egypt and later to Punt. I have never been in a modern city, in fact, the city on Heaven where you and I were incarcerated when we first landed was more modern than anything I have known. So, to be where there are fast little vehicles zipping around, electricity, running water, television, radio – it is truly all a wonder to me.”
Sorrow nodded.
“And you wouldn’t also be staying for a certain bird lady?” she smiled gently.
“I admit,” he sighed, “I do very much adore Calarnise, and Gabriel for that matter, but they don’t hold my heart, Sorrow.”
She leant her head down onto his shoulder and sighed.
“Perhaps neither of us will ever find anyone who can hold our hearts,” she whispered.
He put his hand up and stroked her hair.
“Was it very difficult?”
She knew what he meant without asking.
“I couldn’t do it. I,” she paused, “Khalili did it.”
“But he is gone?”
“Oui,” she replied in French, as he so often did, tears up-to-now held back, beginning to run.
“We never forget our first love,” he said gently, “but you will love again, Sorrow. You are young; you still have many years ahead of you to experience all life can offer. You will recognise your soul mate when the time is right.”
She sat up and dried her eyes on the back of her sleeve, nodding.
“Just let it not be with that Judge creature,” he shuddered, “please, try to be a little more discerning with your next lover.”
Sorrow sniffed and half-laughed.
“No more lovers,” she said, standing, “I’ve got worlds to save, and it seems I am not a good judge of character when it comes to the other sex.”
Etienne smiled up at her.
“You told me once you had many frogs to kiss before you found your prince, did you not?”
“Yes,” Sorrow laughed quietly.
“Perhaps this new planet will contain some frogs, one never knows.”
Sorrow smiled, a wide, genuine smile and turned for the door.
“Adieu.”
She turned her head and nodded. “Adieu, French man,” she said quietly, walking out the door.
Collecting her pack of supplies and weapons from where she had left it outside his room, she strapped it on, holstered her laser guns, placed her helmet on her head and marched to the portals. A pod was hovering nearby with Lokan ready to blow the portal a moment or two after she entered it. She crossed her fingers that Judge was waiting for her on the other side, as promised, and nodded to the Winged officer on duty as she walked to the edge of the Galapo portal.
She knew there were others she should say goodbye to, Raphael, Calarnise, Gabriel, but she couldn’t take any more farewells. She wanted to just leave and get this fight over and done with.
“Tell Lokan I’m ready,” she said to the officer, as she turned and jumped through the portal.
She landed on her knees, gasping, blinded by some kind of thick gas, her throat tightening immediately. Clasping her neck with both hands, she fought for breath as she heard rough voices and had her hands ripped from her throat and bound tightly behind her back.
“Can’t breathe,” she gasped, her face turning puce as she fell to her side in the powdery, red sand, “help.”
A mask was held over her face and she gulped greedily at the oxygen, drawing it down deep into her lungs and opening her eyes in relief and then panic when she saw the creature that stood before her. It was lizard-like, covered in spikes and green and gold scales. It’s tail, thick and muscular, swished in agitation behind its back as it stared with reptilian eyes into her face.
“What are you?” it growled, “why have you come here?”
“Judge,” she said, her words muffled by the mask still pressed tightly over her nose and mouth, “I followed Judge through the portal.”
“Kill it,” another said, approaching and staring down at her as she continued to breathe heavily. The oxygen was clearing her thoughts and helping her focus, but her eyesight was still obscured by the thick gas; which she now realised was exacerbated by a sand storm whipping all around them.
“No,” she said, her voice urgent, “I jumped through the portal after a man, a man dressed in a red suit.”
“No one has come through this portal in five years,” the lizard who held the mask to her face hissed.
“Five years?” Sorrow gasped.
THE STORY CONTINUES…
DEAR READERS,
If you enjoyed this book and have yet to read the full memories of all the Gods that Sorrow received in the regeneration tank in Sorrow’s Sin, then grab a copy of the companion novella to this series; Gods of Time.
You can sign up to my newsletter: www.helenallan.com to hear my latest publishing news and receive special offers.
And if you enjoyed this book, please do leave a review.
Helen Allan
ETIENNE’S ENDEARMENTS
(don’t speak French? Here is a list of the terms Etienne uses)
Ma colombe – my dove
Mon chou – my sweet bun
Ma souris – my mouse
Mon poussin – my chicken
Ma belle – my beautiful one
Ma crevette – my shrimp
Ma mie – my heart
Ma beaute – my beauty
Ma bichette – my darling
Ma cherie – my sweetheart
Ma biquette – my goat
Ma caille – my quail
Ma gazelle – my gazelle
Ma poule – my hen
Ma puce – my flea
Ma sardine – my sardine
Mon sucre d’orge – my candy
Mon amour – my love
Mon ange – my angel
Mon tesor – my treasure
Mon Coeur – my heart
BEFORE SORROW, CAME MEGAN.
‘An eternity as an immortal in slavery was not what she had in mind.’
Desperate and alone, sixteen-year-old Megan uses a powerful and ancient talisman to escape modern-day life and make a new start in ancient Egypt. But powerful enemies lie in wait seeking her destruction and the magical scarab necklace she wields.
Will an alliance with another immortal, the handsome and secretive Franklin, help keep her from harm long enough to learn the secrets of the scarab? – Or will he cause her to lose everything – including her heart?
She thought he was going to kiss her and her breath caught in her throat, but his lips barely brushed hers as he smirked and whispered: “I will take you to my bed again, Little Slave, when you beg me.”
Now 18, Megan journeys on a dangerous and desperate search to discover who seeks her Scarab necklace before another in her close-knit circle is killed. And she will soon find that some she thought were friends are not, and some she thought were enemies may be the only hope she has.
Ancient Mystery – Timeless Love
Hitting the dirt with a thud, Megan drew her swords and raced across to her lover, reaching him just as the beasts did. She turned to fight with him, back to back, as the crowd roared for their blood.
Trapped, and having lost everyone she ever loved, Megan must find a way to journey back in time, and through space, to rescue the one she can’t live without. And this time, she will seek her revenge on those who have, for too long, used humans as playthings.
The final in the Scarab Trilogy will leave you breathless!
SORROW’S FALL
Helen Allan
Copyright © Helen Allan, 2019
Published: 2019
Hell West Press
ISBN: Paperback Edition: 9780648455950
All rights reserved.
The right of Helen Allan to be identified as the author of this Work has
been asserted by her in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval system, copied in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise transmitted without written permission from the publisher. You must not circulate this book in any format.
Cover art by Mario Wibisono
SORROW’S FALL
For Alastair
Books by Helen Allan
When sorrows come, they come not single spies, but in battalions.
PREFACE
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Dear Readers,
FOR ALASTAIR
BOOKS BY HELEN ALLAN
Scarab: Falling Through Time
Scarab 2: Fighting Time
Scarab 3: The Chains of Time
Sorrow’s Sin
The Gods of Time novella
Sorrow’s Flight
Sorrow’s Fall
Gypsy Blood: Love Bloody Hurts
Gypsy Blood: I walk the bloody line
Gypsy Blood: The future looks…bloody
Nixie Blood: A bloody little monster
Nixie Blood: Prepare for bloody battle
Nixie Blood: The Bloody Queen
The Vampire Knights Series
Lancelot’s Lilly
Arthur’s Rose
The Bastard’s Briar
Sir Bor’s Belle
For a full list of books visit: www.helenallan.com
When sorrows come, they come not single spies, but in battalions.
(William Shakespeare)
PREFACE
Gasping for breath, she watched as he drew back his fist ready to punch her a second time, only to liquefy before her eyes.
The crowd of men roared in support as, retching, she fell to her knees and crawled across the floor to where Judgement lay, the gun having slipped from his hand as he fell into unconsciousness.
Reclaiming her weapon, she rose on unsteady legs and stared at the now-silent men behind their bars.
Turning back to study the puddles, she found the keys to the cells amid one and, shaking the water off them, staggered from cell to cell, unlocking the doors and liberating the men within.
When all were free, two hefted Judgment between them, and Sorrow paused for breath as she looked at the men who could stand, many supporting dying or badly wounded comrades. The corridor was crammed and quiet as they all considered their next move.
“Anyone know a quick way to get the fuck out of here?” she asked quietly.
1
Sorrow gasped and coughed as the mask was pulled from her face and the unfamiliar atmosphere engulfed and threatened to suffocate her, once again.
Her focus was hazy as she tried to see just who, or what, had tackled her, pushed her into the sand and bound her hands. She was relieved when she realised they were not Gharial, but there were definitely similarities, the scales for one, the tails. But their faces were hominoid, big eyes, small noses, lips similar to her own. Their heads though, and their backs, were covered in sharp, pointy spines, spines that, had they been on a fish back home on Earth, she would have surmised contained poison.
Her mind whizzed in overdrive as she listened to them arguing about whether to take her back to their leader or kill her on the spot. Their language was new to her, but like all languages, understandable, it was a skill she was born with – the ability to speak every language, and one she was constantly thankful for.
She needed an argument, anything to stall them, but her vision was blurred due to the sand whirling around, and her mind was becoming more and more dulled by the second due to lack of oxygen, and her newly discovered predicament.
‘Five years? Five years have passed since Judgment jumped through the portal?’
One of the lizards, the one determined to kill her, pushed his weapon harder against her temple as the other vacillated over whether she should live or die. Neither was holding her tight enough that she couldn’t break free and make a run for it, but she knelt helplessly between them, gasping for breath.
Although barely cognizant, she could see the one who wanted her kept alive was wavering as he frowned down at her, a look of disgust on his, clearly reptilian, face. She couldn’t see if he had fangs, like the Gharial, because both had redonned their masks after her initial glimpse. Knowing the masks contained oxygen, she wished they would just hold one to her face for a minute or two, to allow her to think.
“I say we just kill it,” the one with the gun said, “it is definitely one of their red army leaders.”
“It can’t be, it is too small – and it is deformed - look at the lumps on its chest,” the second said, muttering and not bothering to look up as he opened the pack containing all her clothes and supplies, and rummaged around inside.
“How would you know? You’ve never seen a red leader up close.”
“Neither have you,” the one who was inspecting her pack said as he closed it and slipped it onto his back.
“What’s in there?” the one with the gun asked.
“Don’t know. We can look through it all when we get back, smells funny though.”
“Pretty amazing that we caught something on our first assignment.”
“I know, I can’t wait to tell the rest of the cadets – they will be so jealous – are you sure we should kill it though? It doesn’t look all that dangerous.”
“Who knows what they are breeding now in their infernal laboratories. It is definitely not a Nãga. We should kill it.”
“We weren’t told to kill anything.”
“We weren’t told not to kill anything.”
“True. Should we shoot it in the head or chest?”
“I think chest – the Captain will want to see its face when we take its body back.”
“Yes, but he won’t be able to see the lumps if I shoot it in the chest.”
“True.”
Sorrow shook her head to try and clear it.
‘Christ, I’ve been captured by dumb and dumber.’
Despite her dizziness and rapidly approaching unconsciousness, she realised she might not have another opportunity to escape if she did not try to make a run for it. Her captors were clearly novice guards. Had she not been suffocating, she could have killed them both within seconds of landing.
As the first cocked his weapon, she galvanised into desperate action. Wrenching herself from her would-be executioner’s grasp, she threw herself to the side as a small pop resounded. She couldn’t believe it had missed her, but knew the second could not possibly miss at such close quarters. Realising she had nothing more to give, no more energy left to move, she opened her mouth to scream, just as a huge, furry creature burst into view.
Knocking the two guards into the sand, it turned on them as they scrambled backwards, screaming, and watched as they threw down their weapons and ran into the desert beyond as fast as their legs could carry them.
Sorrow gasped as she looked up at the creature that had frightened the two away. She knew a moment of fear as, rather than chase her captors, it turned to her, but only a moment, as the heat, dust and alien gasses took the last of her breath and she fell into unconsciousness.
She woke to the feel of something poking her chest and the sound of a low, deep growl.
“Alright, I’m not hurting her,” a small voice said, “I just wanted to see what they felt like.”
Sorrow opened her eyes a fraction and drew in a sharp breath.
Looming over her was the creature that had scared off the two lizards who held her captive when she landed on the plane
t, drool leaching from one side of its large jaws. Standing close by was a boy, or a dwarf, Sorrow wasn’t quite sure in the dim light of her surroundings.
“She’s waking,” the small person said, “you better tell him.”
The creature turned its head to the side and considered Sorrow before loping away, and the boy leant in to resume whatever study he had been making of her breasts before she woke.
“Keep your fingers to yourself,” Sorrow said quietly, scowling at the boy as he jumped back with a squeak.
Slowly pulling herself up to a sitting position, she realised it was a child, no older than perhaps six, and dressed in a miniature version of judgement’s original red army uniform, albeit dirty and here and there showing signs of wear and tear.
“What is your name?” she asked. But received no answer as he turned, wide-eyed, and sprinted away.
Sitting and stretching, she bent her neck back and looked up at the domed roof, twisting her head from side and side to iron out the stiffness in her neck, as she waited for whatever was to come. The fact that she was not bound or restrained led her to believe she was not a prisoner, but as she had come to realise when entering portals, anything was possible.
Heavy footsteps behind her, though, soon brought a smile to her face.
“Judgement?”