The Lost Prophecy: The Falcon Chronicles Book 2

by Marjorie Lindsey

  “You'll have to keep your eye covered,” said Trill. “That would be a giveaway to anyone watching out for us. Maybe we should get you a lens.”

  I stroked the purple wave that fell over my face. “I'm not risking another trip to the oculist. Don't worry. I'll make sure no one sees this eye.”

  “Just as well because there's no time.” Our host rubbed his hands together. “We have quite a distance to travel and several gigs along the way. We’re heading toward the Windlands.”

  The Windlands. Where Kaaluk and Leika had settled with their tribe. My heart lifted as I imagined reuniting with the people I loved. Was it possible?

  “Are the Windlands near Prima Feminary?”

  Patch patted my shoulder. “You don’t have to worry about running into the Genetrix. The Windlands are on the west side of the continent. Prima Feminary lies in the northern mountains, across a distant inlet.”

  “The farther away the better.” Trill rubbed her palms together. “When are we leaving?”

  Patch smiled. “Tomorrow.”

  I was shocked by his announcement. “But we haven't even met the band. What if they don't like the way we sing.”

  Trill and Patch exchanged glances.

  “You've already auditioned,” he said. “It's my band and what I say goes. The others are thrilled that I found a replacement for our singer and we won’t have to cancel the tour.”

  Trill danced over to the mirror again. “Didn't I tell you it was going to be interesting?”

  He laughed at her antics. “Enough primping, Trill. Let's have dinner and you can tell me all about your adventures.”

  I remembered how little I’d eaten when the aroma of roasted meat, grilled vegetables and savory sauces tickled my nose. I hurried to take a seat at the table laden with steaming platters.

  During dinner, Trill regaled Patch with the story of our shipboard imprisonment and all that had happened to us before arriving on his doorstep. I kicked her foot when she started to tell him about my gift. For once, she got the hint and coughed instead.

  “What were you going to say?” asked Patch.

  “Nothing important. Only that I haven’t eaten that well in ages.” She patted her stomach and gave a satisfied sigh as she pushed away her empty plate.

  His brow wrinkled, but he accepted the change of subject.

  “Lucky for you, you’ll be well-fed on the tour.” He backed his chair away from the dining table and stood. “Now I think you both better get a good night’s rest. Tomorrow will be a long day.”

  “Thank you for helping us, Patch. I won’t forget your kindness.” There was a hitch in my voice. I sounded more serious than I intended. “I won’t let you down.”

  “Me neither,” Trill added solemnly.

  “I’m getting the best part of the bargain,” said Patch. “You were born to sing. I’m thankful you showed up at my door. Now get going before we all break into tears.” He drooped his eyes and mouth like a sad clown.

  Trill swiped her eyes and started to laugh. I joined in.

  “That’s better. Trill will show you the bedroom. See you in the morning.”

  I fell asleep with a smile on my face, dreaming of the Windlands and a pair of emerald eyes.

  9

  On The Road

  “Are you ready?” Trill asked as she got dressed the following morning. “It’s the first day of our adventure.”

  It took me a moment to get my bearings in the unfamiliar room. I smiled, remembering we were no longer in the brothel. “I don't know what I'm ready for because I don't know what to expect.” I slipped on the wild tunic, tights and boots that I'd received the day before. I slung the belt around my hips and tied the knife sheath to my thigh. “Do you think we'll leave right away?”

  “I'm not leaving before breakfast,” said Trill with a half-grin. “Patch is well-organized. I'm sure he'll have everything ready so we can leave as quickly as possible.”

  Even though I felt reasonably safe in Patch's home, I was happy we wouldn't be hanging around Nuvega. The longer we stayed, the greater the likelihood we’d be discovered.

  “Dig in and have some food,” said our host as we strolled into the dining area. “We'll be heading out after you finish eating. Everything's ready for our trip.”

  We piled our plates with fluffy eggs, exotic fruit and thick raisin bread flecked with cinnamon. We gobbled the delicious food. Trill was about to go for seconds but stopped when we heard music. We left the table and joined Patch in the living room. He sang in his melodious tone and played an unusual petal-shaped stringed instrument.

  The music enveloped me like a warm hug. “Your tone is incredible. I don't think I've ever heard a man sing so beautifully.” For a bittersweet moment, I recalled my brother’s gruff singing the night of my birthday. I blinked to ward off tears.

  As Patch continued, I walked closer and added my voice to his. Trill joined in with a sweet harmony. For several minutes, our voices wove in and out in perfect balance. My heart swelled with beauty and joy, and brought back memories of singing with my mother. I went silent and looked away. Tears welled under my lids and slid down my cheeks. Trill stopped singing and threw an arm around me.

  Patch quickly packed the instrument into a case. “It's almost time to leave.”

  I went to wipe my wet eyes but hesitated, concerned that I would destroy the makeup.

  Trill noticed. “You don't have to worry. That makeup will stay on for a long time. It's waterproof, smear proof, pretty much everything proof. You can cry all you want without worry.” Trill grinned then went solemn. “Does all the singing remind you of home?”

  I sniffed and nodded. “Sometimes it hits me hard. I’m okay now.”

  Patch overheard and snapped the locks on the case. “Good. Let’s get going.”

  I had nothing to carry. Our red jubas had been discarded. Zora had stolen the diary. My only possession was my necklace. As I walked from the room, I lifted my hand to clutch the onyx falcon and the oracle stone. The stone warmed, giving me hope for the future.

  “This way.” Trill grabbed my arm. “Patch has a back exit that's safer.”

  He waited for us at the rear of the building. I expected to be in another alleyway but high walls enclosed the area. There was no visible escape route.

  “Excellent.” Trill rushed towards a large metal disk lying flat on the ground. About six feet in diameter, it had a vertical pole in the center. She jumped onto the disk and grabbed the pole with both hands.

  Patch laughed at her exuberance and started towards the contraption as well. I tagged along utterly confused by where we were and what was about to happen.

  I pointed at Trill’s feet. “What are you standing on and what’s with the pole?”

  “It's a vehicle. A sandhover. It's fast and light over short distances, and it sure beats walking.” Trill beckoned me forward. “Step onto the disk. Don’t be afraid.”

  “Face toward the center,” said Patch. “Make sure you’re balanced and hold tight.”

  I positioned my hands on the pole below Trill’s. Patch planted both his hands above hers. “Lift and forward,” he uttered in his mellow voice.

  I hunched unsteadily as the disk rose and lifted us into the air. My knees wobbled as we started to move slowly toward one end of the enclosed area. We picked up speed. Suddenly we were hurtling toward the perimeter wall.

  I cringed, certain we’d crash.

  Then Patch uttered another command. “Clear.”

  Like magic, the barrier disappeared in a shimmer. We sailed through it. When I looked back, the wall appeared solid once again.

  Trill and I exchanged glances. I was amazed, she was giggling. “Fantastic, wasn’t it? Patch has lots of great inventions.”

  We reached a large tunnel filled with equipment and vehicles. Several minutes later, the hover stopped at the far end. I was surprised to see natural light streaming from above. We stepped off the hover at the head of a row of transporters. First in line was a
vehicle striped in purple and silver, and covered in exotic orange swirls. I glanced at Trill.

  She anticipated my question. “It’s a sand skimmer. It’s Patch’s personal transportation, but it’s ours as well for our tour. Isn’t it fabulous?”

  “It’s colorful,” I answered, wondering what the next surprise would be.

  After issuing instructions to men nearby, Patch joined us. An orange panel slid open on the skimmer. He climbed in and motioned for Trill to enter on the opposite side.

  “Are we going out onto Nuvega’s surface?” I whispered to Trill, remembering our arrival in the sand crawler and the suffocating heat of the metal compartment. I didn't relish repeating the experience.

  “It won't be like last time,” said Trill, understanding my concern. “Patch travels in style. Get in and you'll find out.” Another panel slid open and she jumped inside.

  I had doubts, but there was no alternative. If I wanted to get away from Nuvega, this was the only way to do it. I followed her inside. A quiet whoosh sealed the vehicle. Cool air wafted across my skin. This definitely wasn't anything like the stifling sand crawler.

  The shaded front of the vehicle was transparent. From inside, I could see sunlight pouring into the tunnel ahead. A large console filled the left side of the front compartment. Patch waved his fingers over various lighted buttons. As he did so, music came and went until he finally settled on his choice. An enticing melody filled the vehicle with a seductive beat.

  The rest of interior was open space. I watched Trill and Patch push lighted circles. Three swaths of material unfolded from the high ceiling and parted to form slings.

  “They’re called Huggs. When you sit in them, they conform to your body,” said Patch, climbing into one. “They take a little getting used to but they're quite comfortable for long journeys.”

  Trill copied him and spread her arms and legs, forcing the material outwards. “You can even sleep in them.”

  I tried the third one and cautiously extended my arms. The material immediately stretched outward, matching my movements. Warm and soft to the touch, it had the added feature of changing its iridescent hue with the beat of the music. Settling into its soothing comfort, I ran my finger over a stylized letter woven into the material. “What does the T stand for?”

  “Tarvek,” replied Patch. “Tarvek Industries is the company that constructed this vehicle.”

  “Isn’t he the guy you asked me about, Bryn?” Trill rocked gently back and forth, her voice starting to slur.

  “Yes.” The name brought a flood of dark emotions and memories. I tried to suppress them and focus on the future and my mission.

  “I hear Tarvek’s mad,” said Trill, “but he's a genius for making this thing.”

  “I don't know if he's actually insane,” added Patch, fully reclined in his Hugg. “I've never met him, but from what I hear he's certainly eccentric.”

  Despite my intentions, Tarvek and the Delios loomed in my thoughts. Had Jarryd and Kaaluk found Prince? Had they located Tarvek’s compound? If so, did the mad genius of Nuvega have spaceships that could transport people off world? Or would his eccentricity threaten the survival of everyone on the planet? Sane or mad, our future might depend on him.

  Twisting in my sling, I looked toward the front window. Curious as to when our journey would commence, I was surprised to see that we were already racing over the scrubby wasteland on the surface of Nuvega. There was no bumping or swaying, just a smooth steady ride as we skimmed over the sand. Trill was right. This was luxury.

  Hours passed as I drifted in and out of sleep. When I looked out again, the window was dark. The music had faded. It was only a whisper and the interior lighting was a dim glow. My companions slept.

  I fought to stay awake, seeking the comfort of familiar images. They streamed onto my mental screen: Mother, Jarryd, Marta, Leika, Circe, and Father. Finally, a vision with haunting green eyes provided a feeling that all would be well. I held Kaaluk's image as long as I could, then it dissipated as I lost the battle with sleep.

  Loud music woke me. We were no longer moving and I was alone. I stretched in my Hugg then peered forward. In the waning light, I could see a line of transporters. I pushed my legs to the floor. Released from my warm nest, I rubbed my arms in the brisk air. I grimaced when I saw the wrinkles in my new outfit. I definitely needed practical sleeping attire.

  Before venturing outside, I remembered to pull my hair over my eye. As I approached the exit panel, it slid open. I stopped at the threshold to take stock of the terrain. Dunes and shrubby vegetation stretched beyond our camp as far as I could see.

  Trill broke away from a group and joined me as I stepped from the vehicle.

  “I thought you'd never wake up.” She grabbed my hand. “You’re just in time to eat.”

  At the mention of food, I suddenly felt hungry.

  The sand still radiated heat, but the atmosphere was bearable. My nostrils crinkled as I sucked in a lungful of dusty dry air. As we walked toward the food tent, I noticed that the dozen vehicles, including Patch’s, were parked nose to tail in a tight circular formation. Tables had been set up inside the ring. Under an open tent, several men and women prepared food. On the far side of the tables, rows of chairs sat in a semicircle.

  I pointed toward the area. “What’s that set up for?”

  “That's for later, after dinner. It's the fun part. You'll see,” said Trill.

  “What’s the reason for parking the vehicles in a circle?” Were they expecting trouble? Is that why they were in a defensive position?

  Patch overheard my question as he walked by carrying a couple of guitars. “We're just taking precautions. There are raiders in these parts that will attack travelers who appear vulnerable.”

  When Patch had gone Trill leaned toward me and whispered. “You don't have to worry about being attacked. You can take them out with your voice.” She laughed as if my ability was a joke.

  I was saddened that she’d forgotten how difficult it was to come to grips with what I’d done. “Hurting people isn't funny. I try to avoid confrontation whenever possible. I’ve told you I'll only use my voice as a last resort.”

  She slapped a hand over her mouth. “I'm sorry, Bryn. Please forgive me. I didn't mean to make light of your . . . what would you call it?”

  “My mother called it a gift. My friend Leika in Hypor City called it a weapon. I guess it's both.” I couldn't keep bewilderment out of my voice.

  She pressed her lips into a thin line and nodded. “Okay. Tonight, let's just forget about it and enjoy ourselves.”

  After a sumptuous dinner, the musical instruments came out. Professional ones I’d seen before as well as some that were obviously homemade. The band formed and started to run through their songs. Only Patch and Trill had heard me sing. The other members were naturally curious about the newcomers and waited for us to join in. Nervous at the outset, the music soon consumed me. I still had to learn the words on their playlist, but I quickly picked up the melodies.

  Patch was drummer and singer. He provided the bass line, I sang alto and Trill hit the top notes. She was also a fast learner. Soon we were dancing and engaging our voices in new and exciting ways. There was a moment of silence when we stopped singing, then our audience burst into deafening applause. I hugged Trill. Band members slapped Patch on the back and congratulated us.

  Music and laughter continued until the moon rose. It was a gibbous moon, with its slight bulge on one side. Thankfully, not full. There would be no disturbing dreams tonight.

  Trill and I walked back to our sand skimmer. The evening was warm. I hesitated before going inside. “Do you think we could sleep outside one night?”

  Trill looked surprised by my question. She'd grown up on an island, but lived most of her life underground in Nuvega She wasn't used to sleeping under the stars, whereas my brother and I had camped outside on many warm evenings.

  “I'll ask Patch,” said Trill. “I can't see it would be a problem. We j
ust have to find something to sleep on that would keep us off the ground. I don't want snakes or scorpions or anything else crawling into my bed.”

  I grimaced and shivered. “When you put it that way, I think I'll definitely stay inside tonight.”

  Trill found us some simpler clothing for sleeping.

  Energized by the evening’s performance, sleep seemed a long way off, but when I settled into the soft warmth of my Hugg I was soon yawning.

  “We’ll be traveling through the night to our first show site. Tomorrow evening is our premier performance. Soon Windlands…” Trill’s speech tapered off.

  Her voice drifted by me. My dimming senses lingered on only one word.

  Windlands.

  10

  The Price of Fame

  Mid-afternoon the next day, we reached our first destination. When I looked out the window, I was disappointed to see sand dunes and scrubby vegetation.

  I shook Trill’s Hugg. “Do you think we’re near the Windlands?”

  She grunted, stretched and rubbed her eyes. “No. I heard Patch say we’ll have to endure the desert heat for a while. He said the Windlands are west of here; hilly with dense forests.”

  I was eager to see the end of the desert, hoping to find my friends in the Windlands.

  Trill slid from her bed and peered out a small side window. “Wow! Look at them all go.

  I leaned in beside her to watch as the army of people traveling with us sprang into action.

  Like ants, men and women scurried to build the stage, set up lights and sound amplifiers. Others set out rows of chairs. The skimmers had removable sides and once they were detached, they turned into food and beverage concessions. It was as if a party had erupted, but without guests. I had no idea that by eight o’clock, a blanket of tents and vehicles would radiate hundreds of feet from the stage.