by Brandon Barr
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
LOAM
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
HEARTH
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
LOAM
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
BIRTH
CHAPTER 12
BRIDGE
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
HEARTH
CHAPTER 17
BRIDGE
CHAPTER 18
HEARTH
CHAPTER 19
LOAM
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
HEARTH
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
LOAM
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CORE
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
HEARTH
CHAPTER 33
LOAM
CHAPTER 34
CHAPTER 35
CHAPTER 36
HEARTH
EPILOGUE
Newsletter
Thanks and Dedication
About the Author
THE BRIDGE
BEYOND
HER WORLD
THE BOY AND THE BEAST
BOOK TWO
BRANDON BARR
Copyright © Brandon Barr
All rights reserved
Cover Art by
Deranged Doctor Designs
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
LOAM
Chancellor,
After my oration in the Hall of Discourse, you asked me what’s become of my strident opposition to the charter. I believe I told you something about a more nuanced perspective.
I feel I must clarify. I am still adamantly opposed to the Guardian charter; however, I’ve come to appreciate your arguments. Too often, I’ve been dismissive of valid points from your side. I blame it on my youthful ignorance.
An honest answer to your question is thus: a woman. A very lovely and intelligent woman has happened to me. Need I say more?
-Prince Damien of the First Quorum, leader of the Opposition Movement, letter to Chancellor Walnof
The majority of Royals are furious the Guardians have chosen your candidates, but the Opposition Movement couldn’t be more pleased. I will maintain my majority stance for a while longer, but I sense momentum is changing in our favor.
When the time is ripe, I’ll be a key blow to the majority when I shift my vote—reluctantly, of course.
Let’s hope your bastard son finds some dirt for us amongst the Guardians.
-Queen Taia
(Letter to Baron Rhaudius)
CHAPTER 1
WINTER
The silence haunted her.
Winter struggled to open her eyes and failed. She felt too weak. Behind her eyelids, a cacophony of emotions fought for answers. Her entire body had been afire with pain, and she hadn’t been able to lift so much as a finger. But, suddenly, the horrific pain was gone. She summoned her strength and felt the fingers on her right hand curl upward. The simple sensation of movement brought enormous relief.
And what of the sounds she’d heard? That awful young captain, Rose, screaming out the farmers’ death sentence, the thundering of horses, and then the terrible noise that cracked open the sky. Her ears still rang faintly from the sound. But now, there was almost complete silence; the kind she only before experienced when entering the woods.
Where were the farmers?
A sobering thought came upon her. Had a battle taken place while she lay unconscious? Was she left for dead, surrounded by the bodies of her friends and neighbors?
And Aven. Where was Aven? Her heart felt sick.
A sound broke through her fears. Footsteps padding along, not far away. Several sets of feet. Three? Four?
Voices. A woman’s commanding tone. Words spoken in a strange accent.
A masculine voice replied to the woman.
More footsteps; they were coming closer.
She tried to open her eyes again, finally succeeding. Piercing sunlight met her, and the padding of the footsteps came to a stop, somewhere close.
“She’s awake,” said the man.
The woman with the accent spoke in return, “Arentiss, go get Alael. Tell him the girl has awoken.”
A pair of footsteps faded away.
“Can she hear us?” came the man’s voice.
“I think so. Winter, can you hear us?” said the woman.
Winter tried to lift her head, tried to raise herself, but the effort was futile, her muscles numb and tingly. Who were these people? How did they know her name?
She heard whispering between the woman and the man, then a startling face appeared overhead. It was a woman, the skin of her face as dark as silt, her clean white teeth shining through a warm smile. The woman’s hair was slate grey with a sprinkling of white, and it was woven neatly into an adornment upon her head.
“Do not worry, your brother is asleep,” said the woman. “My name is Karience. I am the Empyrean of the Guardian order here on Loam.”
Winter stared at her a moment and managed a whisper, “The others? The farmers?”
“They’re asleep, as you were moments ago.”
The sense of mystery and awe Winter had always felt toward the Guardians now churned afresh. Did they possess magical powers? What secret knowledge could lay sleep upon an entire gathering of people?
“Even the horses sleep?” asked Winter.
Karience laughed. “Yes, the horses are using their riders as pillows. Probably we will have to mend more than a few fractured bones. Let’s hope the Baron is in a better mood when he wakes from his procedure. If he would have only taken your pointed advice, we could have arrived as a parade instead of as peacekeepers.”
The tingling in her muscles was wearing off. Winter managed to push herself into a sitting position. Her head swam. It felt as if she’d been lying there a week. She looked and found Aven beside her. His face was relaxed and handsome, even with the blood trails running down his chin. She couldn’t see any harm done by Pike’s sword and wondered if healing the cuts on his face was more magic of the Guardians. Aven was breathing comfortably, as if he was at home in bed, and she were only sneaking in to slip a bracelet under his fingers as she did on occasion. All around the marketplace, bodies lay strewn as if dead.
A man stood beside Karience, younger, perhaps five years older than Winter. Another Guardian. His skin was also strange, but only because it was so fair, especially standing beside the dark Empyrean. He looked at Winter curiously, the slant of his lips betraying amusement. Why? Did he find her disorientation humorous? The thought only deepened her wonder of the Guardians. The scene surrounding her was bizarre. She began to wonder what would happen if everyone were suddenly to wake.
Karience and the young man wore loose white pants and fitted white shirts. A sigil of a starship bursting through a severed sword shone upon their right breasts. Beneath each sigil was a three color pattern that differed between the two of them. What the colors meant, she couldn’t guess.
It
was then she noticed the massive hulk rising from behind the smithworks. It was like a giant bird, with a girth twice the size of the market.
A starship! The sight of it stole Winter’s breath away. The farmers’ tales heard over the years could not have prepared her for this moment. The strength and elegance of the starship’s body reached beyond anything she could ever have imagined. And having landed in a cow pasture, the vessel seemed so enchanting and otherworldly. Much like the two Guardians standing before her.
“Here she is,” said Karience to a bearded man approaching quickly, dressed in clothing similar to hers, though dyed the lightest blue, almost grey, instead of white.
“Winter, this is our Physician, Alael. Do you have any lingering pains?”
“No.”
Alael bent and touched her neck. She felt something tug on her flesh as Alael pulled from her skin a small piece of metal that looked like a tack. He stared at it, as if it were telling him something.
“It was a nasty fall,” said Alael. “You likely wouldn’t have walked again without our intervention.”
“You’re not broken anymore,” said the young man dressed in white beside Karience. “I’m Rueik.” He held out his hand and when she took it, he helped her up onto her feet and steadied her with a hand on her back. “I imagine you’d like to see the ship.”
“Soon enough,” interrupted Karience. “First we wake a few of the others. There’s still Baron Rhaudius's mess to fix.”
Alael bent down beside Aven, his beard brushing Aven’s chest as he seemed to be listening to her brother’s breathing. Then he removed the tack-like thing from Aven’s neck. He immediately began to stir. Winter grabbed his hand.
“It’s alright,” she tapped into his hand, gently.
Aven opened his eyes wide, then rose awkwardly to his feet, in a panic. He took in the strange scene silently.
“They’re sleeping,” said Winter softly. “The Guardians made us all sleep. Do you see the starship?”
Aven stared at it, his face unreadable.
Winter watched Alael follow Karience and Rueik toward the stage, leaving her alone with her brother.
“This feels like a dream.” Aven touched the corners of his mouth and probed them with his fingers. “It’s as if the sword was never there.”
“Like a taste of the Makers’ realm,” tapped Winter. She lifted the jar up through the neck of her tunic to have a look at Whisper, her beautiful butterfly.
Aven glanced at the jar, and from the corner of her eye she saw a scowl form on his face.
It was a silent reminder he didn’t approve of her actions today, even though everything seemed to have worked out for their good.
A strong hand squeezed Winter’s shoulder and spun her around. A giant stood there, and instantly any fear she had melted away. She knew only one giant and he was remarkably good and kind. Grey Bear took her in his arms and lifted her from the ground, emptying her lungs of air as he clutched her.
“You shouldn’t have,” he said. “Damn brave girl you are.” Tears were in his eyes. He held her suspended above the ground in one arm as he reached out with the other and cupped the back of Aven’s head, drawing him into their embrace. “I owe you both my life for what you did.” He finally let her down and she tried not to gasp.
“What charm is this?” continued Grey Bear as he looked out upon the sea of bodies.
“The Guardians have done it,” said Winter, she pointed to the starship.
The Guardians. Winter wanted to dance and throw her arms up in the air. It was like the vision she had, when the Baron threw her from the stage; falling off a precipice, racing toward the deadly waters below, or like drowning in the river, sinking down, down, death opening its gates and, just before passing through, in sweeps the impossible. Only this time, it was the Guardians instead of Leaf, the Maker.
“Have you seen Rabbit?” asked Grey Bear. “She was in that tree there when she throated the Baron with an arrow.”
Winter remembered her vision again. Rabbit drawing back an arrow, but she hadn’t seen what happened after that. She looked up at where the Baron had stood on the platform, then down at the grass beneath. She saw only guards and a few farmers, lying still, Rose among them, thrown from her horse and lying face up, arms spread in the grass. Winter surveyed the entire scene, realizing the only people yet awake were the three of them. The Guardians were waking whom they chose.
“We weren’t expecting this,” said a voice behind her. She turned, along with Grey Bear and Aven. The youngest Guardian, Rueik, was squatting down, picking at the grass. He looked up at them. “I’ll let you in on a little secret. Twenty-eight years the Guardians have been here, on this planet, and not once have we used any of our peacekeeping tools. We aren’t supposed to. You’re not yet a protected world. If Karience had followed her directives, we would have left without anyone knowing we were here.” He stood and tossed the grass in his hand to the wind. “But because of you, Winter,” he smirked at her, “she just couldn’t help herself. She was set on saving you. I’ve never seen her so determined. All of you can count yourselves fortunate to still be breathing right now.”
Winter’s mind turned to the Makers. Did they know the Guardians were here? Did the Maker, Leaf, the one who had given her the gift, did he know Karience also seemed to be watching over her? A sense of power washed over her. She was being protected. And in Rueik’s words she sensed the call of destiny. She said to him, and herself, “The Makers want me alive.”
Rueik’s eyes met hers. He seemed so calm, and she couldn’t read his face. What did he think of her? She waited for him to speak, but he said nothing.
“There was a girl in that tree,” interrupted Grey Bear, pointing to the tall bulge oak beside the platform. “…I can’t find her.”
“Dark hair, bow and arrows, shot the pudgy man through the neck—that one?”
Grey Bear nodded.
“She’s in the ship. Broke her neck falling from the tree. Alael already mended her.”
Grey Bear’s face paled. “Can I see her now?”
“She’ll be brought out, it won’t be long.”
A fourth Guardian, a woman, approached them from the direction of the ship. Each new face fascinated Winter, for they were so unlike those of her own world.
“Everything’s ready,” said the woman, stopping beside Rueik. She was dressed in the white of the Guardians, and looked perhaps thirty years, maybe younger. She had a petite face—short nose, small mouth—with sharp blue eyes that studied the three of them. The line of her lips remained grimly straight until finally loosening into a precise half-smile.
“Rueik, you’ve forgotten polite protocol again. This is where you’re supposed to introduce me.”
“This is Arentiss,” said Rueik, with a hint of annoyance. “A Missionary, like myself.” He gave Arentiss their names, and as he did, she studied each of them with an unreadable expression that was neither cold nor warm. Winter noticed now that the color pattern beneath Rueik’s sigil was the same as Arentiss’s. White-red-black.
So, these two had the same color arrangements, but were different from the first two Guardians. Perhaps this identified them as Missionaries? Whatever that meant.
“It’s time to negotiate,” said Karience, weaving her way back to them, through the maze of sleeping horses and riders. “I won’t be leaving here only to have the bloodshed continue.”
The two Missionaries looked at each other, in what seemed to be surprise, then turned to follow.
Behind Karience was Alael, and then a third person, the sight of whom was like a dagger in her heart.
Why had they awakened Pike?
CHAPTER 2
AVEN
“I want the farm girl dead!” roared Baron Rhaudius from underneath the shadow of the Guardian starship. His face was layered with dirt and sweat. “I’ll not have outsiders overruling the sword of justice on my own land.”
Aven felt his stomach churn, sickened by the Baron’s inten
t for his sister. He watched the sweat bead upon the Baron’s lips as he spewed the same visceral rage he’d been loosing ever since they brought him out of the starship. Aven couldn’t understand how they had made his throat new again? By what miracle? There was a slight redness where the arrow had pierced both sides of his neck, but that was all.
Pike stood beside him, his face stolid except for the hint of distress in his eyes. Karience stood with Rueik and Arentiss at her side, the three of them forming a wall between himself and Winter.
Grey Bear stood solemnly beside Winter, Rabbit tucked protectively within his large arms, as if they were a defensive wall.
“I came for Winter,” said Karience. “I will bring her back with me. Your insistence on aggression over negotiation earned a knife at your back. The hostility was your creation.”
Her eyes never wavered from the Baron, as if making clear her words were an iron gate and her agenda would rule the day. Other than Grey Bear, Aven had never seen anyone stand up against Rhaudius, but the Guardian leader had fought for an entire farm community, and had already drawn out a promise from the Baron not to harm any of the farmers. That included the men who’d come forward with Grey Bear, making the Baron swear to issue them pardons.
Now she was fighting for his sister.
“You have charge of the portal, and that is all. The charter forbids you from intervening in our world’s affairs.”
“Would you like it if I reversed my intervention? You could be back on the grass where you fell, lying in a reservoir of your own fluids. You were two teckamils from death when we found you, windpipe torn, asphyxiating on your own blood.”
The Baron looked as if he were being forced to swallow live maggots. “Take the impudent farm girl!” said Rhaudius with fire. “I didn’t realize the Guardians were in the business of acquiring women of such treacherous nature.”
Winter squeezed Aven’s fingers. He rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand. The relief he felt was immense.
“It’s not over,” tapped Winter.