The Lost Prophecy: The Falcon Chronicles Book 2

by Marjorie Lindsey

  He shook his head and spoke quietly. “With the gas sickness and the thefts, they don’t need more bad news. I’d rather they focus on the future.”

  I was impressed. Stick had matured since his days as an arrogant announcer in Hypor City. He would be a good leader for these people.

  Valma returned with a flask. When I attempted to speak, she pressed her fingers to my mouth and shook her head.

  I grabbed the paper and wrote out another note.

  She nodded when Stick told her I had knowledge of herbs and would like to help prepare the medicine for the gas sickness. After Stick left, she brought a mortar and pestle to the nearby table and had me grind leaves and oils into a pulpy mash. I watched in silence as she grouped the ingredients for her recipes.

  Soon, I was able to duplicate the quantities and follow her preparations, while she supplied the needs of a continuous stream of people that appeared at her door.

  Once we’d stockpiled a good supply of medicine, Valma washed her hands and removed her stained apron. “Now I must go to visit the ones that are too sick to walk.”

  I was tired and my throat was sore, but I wanted to help. I indicated I would go with her.

  She shook her head. “Go to your hut and sleep. Tomorrow you can assist me.” She handed me another licorice tisane and urged me to leave.

  Stick appeared as I left the hut. He shook his head when I tried to speak. He was right. My voice needed time to heal. I couldn’t hope to rescue Mother without my defensive power.

  The next morning, my throat had improved to the point that I could emit a low hum. I clutched my necklace, felt the oracle stone warm in my hand and continued to hum, focusing my thoughts on my throat and ankle. I'd lost a day but now I felt stronger and determined to get to Prima Feminary.

  When Stick arrived with food and herbal tea, I was able to speak more naturally, although I kept my tones low.

  He smiled. “I heard you humming. Your throat must be better. Another day or two in our village and you'll be back to normal.”

  “I can't stay that long. I have to get to Prima Feminary. My mother is captive there. Her life may be in danger. I must rescue her.”

  “It's a bad place, Brynna. Tarvek used to bring women to Haven then send them on to the feminary. No one ever came back. It would be safer for you to return to Hypor City. Perhaps they could mount a rescue.”

  I shook my head. “There’s not enough time. Hypor City has its own problems.”

  “I don’t understand. What’s going on?”

  I related what had happened since we'd last seen each other in the jail cell in Hypor City. He whistled in awe when I told him about the rebellion. I skipped the part about Steepchase, not wanting to explain what had happened. He laughed when I told him about escaping from Nuvega and touring with a band of musicians before meeting up with Jarryd and the others.

  “So you're a singer? Maybe you could entertain us when your throat is better. It might help the villagers to have something good to focus on.”

  “I'm more than a singer. I’m also a healer, and now that my voice is stronger, I will be able to bring your villagers back to health.”

  He looked more confused than amazed. “I don't understand. How can you do that?”

  “I have a special gift that allows me to heal with my voice.” For the first time, I didn’t shrink from revealing my uniqueness.” My mother is Femin like the Genetrix, and so am I. Prima Feminary is where I belong.”

  I marveled at the sensation my words gave me. My secret dream had been to live among others like me, but verbally acknowledging that Prima Feminary was my true home was a revelation. I paused in astonishment, unaware that Stick was speaking.

  “…you're a citizen of Hypor. Your father was a councilor.”

  I nodded. “And Jarryd will take my father’s position. However, my place is in the mountains beyond. I know it's difficult to understand, but I must find the way to Prima Feminary. Can you help me?”

  He hesitated before answering. “We don't have contact with those in the mountains, but one of the old ones might know a way to get there.” He sat quietly looking down at his hands, then raised his eyes to mine. “What about Calia? Why was she here?”

  I told him the rest of the story, including the attack on Tarvek's compound. “At first we thought Calia had escaped, but she reappeared and begged us to help her. I'm still not sure why she returned to the compound, but I suspect that she is in league with the Genetrix.”

  Stick grimaced. “That woman gives me the chills. I only saw her once, but her eyes were as cold as death. She's not going to welcome you warmly. How do you plan to defeat her?”

  “I'm not sure. She's incredibly powerful. I'm hoping that I can reach the Feminary undetected and search for a way inside.”

  “The old ones say the mountains are treacherous. We still experience earthquakes. Rock falls have collapsed tunnels in Haven and killed some of the miners. It could be suicide to go there.”

  I appreciated his concern. “Given the CME threat we're facing, I'd rather be actively searching for my mother than waiting for what might be the end. Jarryd and Weyland are working on scientific solutions. I can’t do anything for the planet, but I might be able to see my mother one last time.”

  Stick nodded. “You must do what you feel is right. While you help our village, I will talk to the others and see what I can find out about Prima Feminary. Please don't mention the solar threat to anyone here. Let them enjoy their renewed health and the prospect of a new home.”

  When I finished the last of the herbal tea, I stood. “Let's go now. I want to stop by the healer and get more tea. She can guide me to the sickest ones first.”

  Valma and I moved through the village. The first patients were suspicious. Some were afraid, but with her coaxing, all allowed me to tend them. They immediately felt the benefit of my healing. Some even sang along, enjoying the familiar folk songs that I employed.

  By midday, I had treated the ones suffering from gas inhalation, and anyone else with an ailment. When I emerged from the last hut, well-wishers filled the path. After speaking with one of the villagers, Valma turned to me.

  “They want to give you gifts from what little they have,” she said.

  My eyes watered as I spoke to the group. “I am a healer. Your well-being is the only gift I require.” I could feel the rasp in my throat after hours of use. “I must go now and rest.”

  Valma accompanied me back to Stick’s hut. She stopped me from entering.

  “Thank you for helping my people.” She reached forward and laid a gnarled hand over my heart. Her eyes were a thousand miles deep.

  The oracle stone buzzed gently as she spoke.

  “Prima Feminary awaits you. Your gift is greater than you know.”

  The buzzing stopped as she withdrew her hand and turned away.

  “What do you mean?” I called after her. “I don’t understand.”

  She glanced back, shook her head and continued walking.

  First Trill, now Valma. It couldn’t be a coincidence. I remembered Mother’s words. Your voice is your power. Could my voice have a dimension I wasn’t aware of? Would it help me to defeat the Genetrix?

  It was dusk when Stick returned. “Are you still determined to leave?”

  “Yes.” I didn’t reveal what Valma had foreseen.

  He nodded at my confirmation. “I have a rough map that shows the way to the coast. Prima Feminary resides in these mountains across an inlet.” He pointed to them. “A boatman named Fislet has a shack here on the shore. If you give him these coins, he’ll know you’re from Haven and will ferry you across the water. I’m told he’s a smuggler and keeps his face covered. Don’t speak to him. He doesn’t like people who are nosey.” He lifted my hand and dropped three metal disks onto my palm.

  I smiled as he curled my fingers over the coins and squeezed my hand. “Thank you.”

  “I’ll put together a pack with food and water. Your cloak will keep you warm.
You’ll have a solar light to show the way. You must get to the shore tonight. Fislet will only make the crossing during low tide.”

  25

  The Deadly Crossing

  It was dark when Stick accompanied me to the outskirts of the village. I sensed his reluctance to leave.

  “Perhaps I should come with you,” he said.

  I pulled my cloak tight and took the sack of supplies from him. “No, you need to be here. The village will require your leadership and guidance in the days to come. I can take care of myself. You've done more than enough.”

  He nodded. “I’ll never return to Hypor City. These people have shown me kindness and respect. Thank you for all you have done for them. We will find a new village. Perhaps one day we will meet again—if we survive.”

  His words were heartfelt. I reached out and hugged him. “I must go.”

  I could feel him watching as I started down the hillside, but I didn’t look back. With a map and the means to get to Prima Feminary, I focused on the journey ahead.

  On the heavily forested slopes, I lost my way a couple of times and had to backtrack to relocate the trail. The night sounds were familiar; hoots of owls and the rustling of underbrush as small animals scurried from my path. The possibility of large predators lurking nearby seemed unlikely, but I used Stick’s light and scanned the woods continuously just in case.

  It was several hours before the path wound down to a small beach. I heard the slap of waves before I saw them. A dim light winked in the darkness.

  I followed the pebbled water-front until I spied a small skiff. I flashed my light up the beach and spotted a stone shelter outlined in the moonlight. I reached the door, took a deep breath and knocked.

  There was a grunt, and a snort and the door flung open. “What do you want?” A murky silhouette filled the entrance. Eyes peered around a candle clutched in a deformed fist.

  I suppressed my trepidation. “You must be Fislet. I'm told you can take me across to the other shore.” I held out my hand and opened my fingers. The coins glinted on my palm.

  Dirty nails scratched the coins from my hand. He turned sideways. Wax dripped over his hand as a crooked finger examined the coins in the candlelight. His bulbous nose overhung sneering lips. His cheekbones thrust out sharply, leaving hollows in his long face. Greasy hair hung in rattails to his shoulders, becoming one with his straggly beard.

  He thrust the coins into a pocket.

  “I’ll take those,” a muffled voice came from behind Fislet. He winced as a beefy hand grabbed his shoulder and jerked him sideways against the door. The candle fell to the ground.

  “Let me go,” croaked Fislet.

  There was a low growl. Haloed by a dim light, two figures struggled. There was a loud crash then silence. A lone candle appeared to float against a black background. I sensed danger and stepped back until I saw a glint of metal.

  The candle rose and swayed. Its glow sent luminous shadows around the hut. A figure stepped into the light. I recoiled when I recognized the giant.

  In his hand, he held a curved blade. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  An evil laugh from behind him stopped me cold. A robed figure stepped forward and threw back a hood. Mistress Zora stood with a blaster clutched in her hand. “It’s been a while, singer.”

  I cursed my carelessness as my freedom slipped away.

  I’d worried about Delio and the Genetrix but the farther we went from Nuvega, the less I’d thought about Zora. Trill’s assurances that Zora wouldn’t leave Nuvega to follow us had underestimated her desire to find me. Determined to rescue my mother, I should have realized that Zora would stop at nothing to rescue her sister. I was her only bargaining chip.

  “Surprised to see me?” asked Zora.

  I decided to be truthful. “No. I understand why you’re here. What I don’t understand is why you would trust the Genetrix to live up to her part of your bargain?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “A deal is a deal.”

  “Perhaps in Nuvega, but you’re a long way from home. What’s to stop her taking you prisoner?”

  “Him,” she hooked her thumb toward the giant. “If the Genetrix doesn’t fulfill her part of our bargain, he’ll make sure she never makes another one.”

  “But…”

  “Enough talking.” She motioned to the giant. “I’m tired of her arguing.

  I opened my mouth and started to sing, but soon gave up. I’d been able to use the low notes to heal the villagers, but I couldn’t reach the high notes I needed to defend myself.

  “Why are you singing?” demanded Zora. “Are you crazy?” She motioned to the giant. “Gag her and bind her hands.”

  As her minion complied, Zora turned to Fislet who nursed his jaw and hovered in the doorway of his hut.

  “Is the boat ready?” she asked.

  “Yes, but we have to go now while the tide's out.”

  At her nod, he stomped back inside, and returned wearing a tattered coat and hat and carrying a candle. “What about that one?” He jerked his chin toward the hut’s dark interior. “She’ll be a rotting corpse by the time I get back.”

  Zora motioned to the giant. “Bring her along. If she makes it to Prima Feminary, the Genetrix can have her.”

  The giant grunted and entered the hut, returning to the doorway dragging a form wrapped in rags.

  “Is she dead?” asked Zora.

  A weak snarl rumbled from the figure as the giant yanked a handful of hair. Candle light revealed gaunt cheeks, crazed sunken eyes and an expression twisted with hatred. It was Calia.

  I gasped. Had Calia been trying to get to Prima Feminary? Or had she been waiting for me, hoping to use me as a prize to please the Genetrix? Whatever her motive, she was now vulnerable to Zora’s whims.

  “She’s alive,” said the giant, “but she stinks. She’s pissed herself. I say we leave her behind.”

  “You have no say.” The giant seemed to shrink under Zora’s menacing gaze. “She comes with us.”

  Fislet coughed then spat. “If we miss low tide, you’ll never get to Prima Feminary tonight,” he warned.

  “Lead the way,” responded Zora. She gave the giant a stern look before motioning to Calia. “No need to carry her. Drag her if she won’t walk.” She shoved my shoulder and I stumbled in Fislet’s wake with her close behind.

  I knew that to arrive at Prima Feminary with her would mean immediate imprisonment and perhaps death. I hated to think what would happen to my mother. The jab of Zora’s weapon was a continual reminder that escape was impossible.

  We reached the shoreline. Fislet located the skiff, shoved it into the water and signaled for us to get in. The giant carried Zora to the boat, then pushed me on board. Returning to the shore, he grabbed Calia. She sputtered as he dragged her through the water, before tossing her into the vessel beside me.

  The men remained in the water and pushed the boat off the rocky beach. Once we were further into the channel, they climbed in. Fislet lifted a lantern and struck a match to light the wick, then hung it from a hook attached to the bow. He positioned the oars and handed a pair to the giant. Together they started to pull.

  Hearing the lap of water against the wooden hull made me shudder. I took several deep breaths, trying to dispel my childhood fear of water. I looked around me finally focusing on the flickering light or the rhythm of the oars—anything but the cold dark abyss only inches away.

  “We're here, get ready.” Fislet stowed the paddles and unhooked the lantern.

  Despite my situation, my spirits lifted. I looked forward to solid ground, but when I stood, the weak light revealed another vessel alongside.

  “Another boat?” asked Zora.

  Fislet burst into cackling laughter that collapsed into a rasping cough. “You thought we could cross ocean water in a skiff?” He wiped a slide of drool from his chin. “It's an hour to the other side.” He tied us off to a buoy and hooked a gangplank between the vessels. Grabbing the lantern, he hurried acros
s. “Come on, there’s no time to waste.”

  The giant slung Calia over his shoulder and tentatively crossed the makeshift bridge. Zora motioned for me to go before her. Once we were all on board, Fislet hung the lantern on a hook in the stern. There was a wheelhouse like Old Joe's fishing boat on Bokk Island. Fislet ducked inside and started the motor.

  The giant dumped Calia onto a pile of fishing nets heaped in the stern.

  The nauseating odor of rotting fish overpowered my nostrils, but the gag made it difficult to breathe through my mouth. I hesitated near the nets, until a hard shove pitched me forward. I grunted as I landed face down into the slimy pile, only inches from my enemy.

  Zora and the giant sat across the deck on a storage locker. Within moments, we were churning through the water. Above the wheelhouse, the moon offered a faint outline of distant mountains.

  Tarvek’s cloak was my only protection from the damp night air. Calia shivered visibly beside me. Zora was snuggled in her voluminous wrap. The blaster had disappeared, but I was certain it wasn’t far from her hand. The giant seemed unaware of the weather.

  The crossing was quiet.

  I didn’t feel nauseated by the rocking motion as I had on the Hypor ship, but the thought of that experience filled me with frustration. My muscles tensed, as I recalled the agony of parting from my mother. I clenched my necklace and experienced a surge of strength from the oracle stone. I had to free her or die trying. Even if we only had a short time together, it was worth the danger.

  The soporific effect of the boat’s motion had me struggling to remain awake. Finally surrendering, I was almost asleep when I felt a kick.

  “Don’t move,” whispered Calia. Her matted hair dangled in my face as she straddled my waist.

  Something sharp pricked my neck. I twisted against her weight, trying to throw her off. She was surprising difficult to budge.

  “Don’t worry. I’m not going to kill you. Someone else wants that pleasure.”

  I froze when a cold blade pressed against my lips. She might not kill me, but I sensed she would enjoy cutting my face. She snickered then grabbed my hair. With a flick of her hand, my gag was gone. My voice was free, but the knife was pressed to my chest.