Attack on Phoenix

by Megg Jensen

  ATTACK ON PHOENIX

  Forsaken Stars Saga #1

  MEGG JENSEN

  Copyright © 2015 by 80 Pages, Inc

  Published by 80 Pages, Inc

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used factitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form by or any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the author or publisher.

  1st Edition: October 2015

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Cover design: Steven Novak Illustration

  Editor: Bryon Quertermous

  http://smarturl.it/MeggsNewsletter

  Prologue

  Two hundred years ago, we fell to this deserted planet. Our ship was destroyed. Our technology lost. We began again, creating a world from scratch while we waited for our fellow humans to rescue us.

  They never came.

  We named our new planet Phoenix. Rising from the ashes of the crash, we built a city, Hadar, where some lived normal lives like they’d had on Earth. They called themselves grounders. Others took to the sky, building a military tower for security and research. They called themselves defenders. Yet others burrowed underground, worshiping new gods. They were referred to as the buried.

  Our attempts to get back into space almost succeeded… until the dragzhi found us and began a war we were doomed to lose…

  Chapter One

  Rell ground salt into her palms. Her hands worked in a familiar rhythm, circling around and over her palms, moving to the back of her hands, and finally intertwining her fingers. She repeated the process again and again. Cleanse the hands until no trace of dirt remained. Scrub with the thick grains of salt until she could no longer bear the pain.

  Water dripped from the ceiling, each droplet falling into a stone vessel. The water was always fresh. Pure. Perfect for cleansing before meeting the Menelewen Dored, her gods. It was the only way she could find absolution for her grievous sin.

  Rell dipped her hands in the cool water, gently working the salt out of the pock marks in her skin. The wounds stung, but they were immaculate. She pulled her hands out of the water and dried them, rubbing a wool scrap over her skin. She winced.

  Rell placed the towel on a shelf and stepped away from the small pool of water, strings from the wool stuck in the broken flaps of skin.

  One candle flickered in the cave. It beckoned the gods to the holy place and assured them of Rell's reverence, of her dedication to worship. She traversed the rocky ground with bare feet. More welcome pain, reminding her why she served as she did.

  She inhaled, relishing the chalky scent of the cavern. Those aboveground had abandoned the dirt for stardust, chasing futile dreams. They would never get back to Earth. It had been two hundred years since their ship crashed, yet they continued to yearn for their home world.

  Not so for those underground. The buried focused on their gods to save them.

  As for the grounders, what kind of a life could they lead without the gods? An empty life. A meaningless life.

  Only three more steps. She would be in the gods’ presence. She would feel their warmth upon her face. She would be whole again.

  Rell fell to her knees. A true supplicant approached with the proper respect. Her hands rested on the ground, rocks piercing the raw lesions.

  Shivers raced through her body. She had been cleansed, and now her hands touched the holy rocks. Tears stabbed at the corners of her eyes. Her breath quickened. She was close.

  Incense snaked into her nostrils. This was it. She'd prepared her whole life, and now she would lay her eyes on the gods. Rell's heart thrummed in her chest.

  "How do you come, young woman?" A voice, as gravely as the ground below her, rang out in the corridor.

  Rell started. No one had told her she would meet another soul in the depths. Years of preparation, and not one word about this part.

  "I..." Rell didn't know what the right answer was. She racked her memory, trying to recall this part of the training.

  "Answer now or be sent away." The voice dropped, irritation poisoning the words.

  Rell kept her head down. The darkness flickered at the whim of the candlelight. "I am here because it is my destiny. Not one bestowed upon me, but one I have earned. This is my right."

  Malicious laughter sent panic down Rell's spine. Perhaps it was the wrong answer. It was the only answer she had thought to give.

  "Take this, the essence of your commitment."

  Rell looked up. A hand was before her, offering something between its fingers. Some kind of raw meat. Rell opened her mouth, and the person placed the meat on her tongue. She pulled it into her mouth.

  Rell chewed the wet, sweet flesh and swallowed.

  She waited, still on her hands and knees, the pebbles digging into her flesh.

  Time passed. More time. There were no more words. Perhaps she had passed the test. Rell decided to keep moving.

  She advanced, hesitant at first, then faster as the quiet continued, her knees scraping on the ground, her palms shredded, until the crown of her head hit something solid.

  She reached out, running her hands over the rocky wall. Tears choked her. Where had the path gone? She turned back in the direction she’d come, but her hands hit rock again. Beginning to panic, slowly she maneuvered her hands full-circle. Up and down the wall they traveled, until she was sure. She was trapped.

  "No!" Rell shouted into the dark void. She pounded on the wall, her fists like hammers. Her heart quickened. There was no way out. The candlelight had gone. The walls were closing in, fast.

  "You are not ready." The voice cackled, reverberating in the dark hole.

  Wind swirled around Rell. She squeezed her eyes shut and curled in a ball. Moments later she found herself on her bed, tangled up in blankets. Slamming her fists into the meager bed, she cursed again. It wasn’t a dream. It couldn’t be. The experience was too real.

  Rell opened her fists. The skin on her palms was smooth and unblemished.

  The door to her pod opened, and Rell’s mother strode in the room without waiting for an invitation.

  “Get dressed. It's time to serve breakfast to the council. I hope you can manage to do that. Get out of bed, Rell.” Her mother sighed, exasperated. She slammed the door as she left her daughter's pod.

  Rell pushed off her bed, pulled her filthy shift over her head, and left it in a pile on the floor.

  Rell thought of her father, who had taken her aboveground once to see the night sky. Even though she was excited, she had also been afraid. The sky was a fearful thing. How could it hang above them without crashing down on the planet? If she could toss a rock into the air and it would fall back to the earth, logic said someday the stars would come crashing down on them, dousing her beloved home in fire.

  Still, she'd gone with him. She'd gazed into the black night sky, punctuated by sparkling lights. Rell had held her father's hand so tight, he'd joked she might break his fingers. When she looked up into the sky, she'd felt as if something was tugging on her chest, pulling her toward it. Rell's head had felt woozy, and she'd vomited on her father's leather shoes. He'd pulled her into his arms, cradling her head against his chest, and carried her back into the cave.
Then tragedy struck, and he was gone.

  It was the last time Rell had ventured out of the caverns. She still knew all of the passageways, even the unused and long-forgotten, but she had no interest in the stars. Her future lay deep under the earth. She wanted to meet the Menelewen Dored. She only had to prove she would be a faithful servant to the gods.

  Rell wiggled into a fresh dress. The white wool draped over her body, hanging from her shoulders in a straight line. She tugged her hair into a severe braid that fell down her back, the tip of it resting just above her ankles. Finally, she pulled a pair of black leather gloves over her hands, hiding her sex. Long, delicate fingers would have given her away. The religious council preferred their acolytes to be free of the bonds of sexuality.

  Rell exited the room, lining up in the hallway with the other acolytes. Male and female alike, they wore the same clothing and the same long braids. Losing self in service to the Menelewen Dored was considered the highest honor.

  Rell followed the others down the dimly lit corridor, her fingers laced, head down. She walked in rhythm with the acolyte in front of her, the hems of their robes swishing in a whispered song. She followed them into the antechamber where the three leaders of the religious council sat at a round oaken table. Legend claimed the table was hewn from the roots of an ancient tree, for the table couldn't have fit through the doorway in one piece. There were many mysteries in their caverns. Someday, Rell hoped to understand them all. Her heart yearned for it. Her soul would travel in the ether with the gods. There was no other path for her.

  The acolytes stood against the rough-hewn wall, waiting for instruction. It was time to serve breakfast, yet there was no food in the room. The scent of baked bread was noticeably absent, as was the steam from the morning's porridge.

  Rell quieted her anxiety with a breathing exercise she'd mastered as a child. She forced herself to keep her eyes on the council, rather than looking for answers on the faces of her fellow acolytes. It was unlikely they knew any more than she did.

  The three council members looked up in unison, their black hooded cloaks covering their faces. The middle person's gloved hand raised, a finger leveled at Rell. "You. Come."

  Rell bit the inside of her lip. Many years ago, she'd seen another summoned into service of the Menelewen Dored. It was the last time she'd seen that acolyte. Fear held her captive, shackling her feet to the floor.

  "Now!" The person in the hooded black robe slammed the table with a fist.

  Rell hurried toward the man, or woman. The council was just as mysterious about what lay under their cloaks. She dropped to one knee in front of the table.

  "Leave." One of the other council members ordered the others out.

  Rell heard the light swish of their robes as they left. She remained on her knee, waiting for further instruction.

  A hand rested on her shoulder. "You may stand now, child."

  Rell stood, her eyes cast to the ground. "How may I serve?"

  "There are those who seek the Key. You have been chosen to protect it. The gods, the Menelewen Dored, have spoken to us."

  Her eyes bored into the toes of her slippers. Fear and pride roiled in her stomach. "You have my loyalty and my hands."

  “The Key has remained hidden for centuries. It must not fall into the wrong hands as it rises from the depths. There will be others, from aboveground, looking for it. You must thwart them. Stop them from discovering what the buried people hold most dear. Use anything you have at your disposal. The gods will forgive all transgressions while protecting the Key. Keep them away from the Key. Away from us. The Menelewen Dored are counting on you.”

  Rell gulped, swallowing her fear. Grounders? Coming to the buried? Her fingers intertwined as she locked her shaking hands together. A nod was her only response.

  "Thank you. You are dismissed to your chambers. In the morning, someone will come for you. Follow them to your destiny. In the meantime, speak to no one of your task."

  Rell nodded, her eyes still on the ground as she backed her way across the room to the doorway. Fumbling behind her, for no one turned their back to the council, Rell reached for the doorknob. She turned it, waited for the door to click open, backed out of the room, and closed the door.

  The Key. A thing of legend. One of the deepest mysteries of the Menelewen Dored. The Key held the solution to all things buried, aboveground, and in the stars. She had been taught the Key was their greatest secret.

  Even though she didn’t know for sure what the Key was, her faith told her it was real. And she would be the guardian to stand before it, protecting the Key from the unworthy grounders who sought it.

  Chapter Two

  Torsten ducked. The beam grazed the top of his ear, singeing his skin. The scent of burned flesh engulfed his nostrils.

  "Hey!" He flicked a finger over the wound, smearing the small drop of blood over his lobe. "A little too close."

  "Sorry, Tor." Leila winked and tossed him a towel. A smirk accentuated her high cheekbones. "Next time, move faster. It's really simple."

  Torsten ignored Leila's taunts. She'd always been a better shot than him. If he didn't love his little sister so much, he might have gotten sick of it sooner. Their parents died when they were twelve and ten years old. Without any relatives willing to care for them, they were sent to the military tower to work off their parents' debt. Since then, he'd been her protector, even though it had become clear over the last six years she did a much better job of protecting him.

  "You'll get it. Just keep trying. If you spent less time playing with that silly sword rather than your gun, you’d already be an expert." Leila clapped her brother's back and moved away. She bounced around the shooting range like a Blorian space frog, her ponytail flouncing on her shoulders. Leila waved the blaster in the air. "Better duck!"

  Torsten dropped to the floor, his hands over his head.

  Leila's laughter echoed in the otherwise empty room. "I was kidding. Get up, you big baby."

  Torsten, his face red with shame, stood. He could never hurt Leila, but he'd also never forget the time she set him on fire, just to see if charred skin would smell like the burnt chicken the cook made for the defenders every night for dinner. She'd quickly put the fire out, tamping it down with a towel before he could even scream. Since then, Torsten had been a bit leery of his sister's impulses. She controlled them when the commander was around. All bets were off when they were alone.

  A bell clanged over the intercom. "Time is up. Please exit the shooting range."

  Leila rested a towel around her shoulders. Torsten wiped his dripping face with the soft, white towel. He grabbed his blaster and shoved it in his bag.

  "You should see the medic," Leila said, scrutinizing his ear more closely. "It might scar." She shuddered, revulsion rippling over her face.

  Torsten shrugged. "A scar never hurt anyone."

  "Scars are disgusting. No one in their right mind would have one." Leila stopped, tossed her bag over her shoulder, and took a long look at her brother. "Then again, no one ever accused you of being in your right mind."

  Torsten was about to make a comeback, albeit a lame one, when the steel door whooshed open. Two beefy guys stood in the doorway, their shoulders touching. They weren’t related, but from their matching sandy coifs to their blindingly white straight teeth to their bulging muscles, they might as well have been twins.

  Leila glanced at the guy on the right. "Hey, Jacub." Her eyes languidly traveled over to the second one. She rested a hand on his forearm. "Hey, Mellok. I warmed up the room for you."

  "I'll bet you did." Mellok ogled Leila.

  Torsten fought the urge to vomit. His sister had harbored a crush on Mellok since she’d first realized boys were just as good of kissers as they were fighters, though that hadn’t stopped her from making her way through the other defenders. The hulking guy had ignored her until recently. Torsten caught them pawing each other in a dark hallway seven days ago. He was eighteen, still hadn't kissed a girl, and his si
ster was getting all the action.

  Just another way Leila had surpassed him. Torsten loved his sister, but some days he wished he was better at something, anything, than she was.

  Jacub pushed past his friend and dropped his bag on the floor. "It's our turn to practice, Mellok. Take your eyes off your girlfriend and get your butt in here."

  Girlfriend? Torsten looked at Leila, who only had eyes for Mellok. "Come on, Leila. Let them practice." He tugged on his sister's elbow.

  "See you later?" Leila asked Mellok, ignoring Torsten. Her arm was limp in his grasp. Annoyed, he let go.

  Torsten pushed between the two and left, heading for his dormitory on the third deck. A smacking noise behind him made his stomach turn. They were kissing again.

  "Tor! Hey, wait for me!" Leila's steps grew thunderous as she caught up with him a few moments later. "Sorry. I didn't realize I was going to see Mellok. I look so horrid, and I smell even worse." Leila lifted an arm and sniffed.

  Torsten's nose wrinkled at the onslaught of body odor. They'd practiced hard. At least he had the courtesy to keep his sweat to himself.

  "It's fine. Just don't be so obvious. You know how the commander feels about romance among the defenders. You don't want to get demoted." Torsten stopped, pushing a button on the wall. He watched the marks above, indicating which floor the lift was stopped on. Thirty floors. It wouldn't be long.

  "It'll be fine. Commander Bartok won't care as long as Mellok and I are platonic in the classroom and on the battlefield." Leila grabbed one of her blond curls and twirled it around her finger. "What do you think of Mellok, Tor? Do you like him?"

  Torsten could think of hundreds of guys he liked better than Mellok. Glassy-eyed, Leila stared at the ceiling, a small smile playing at the corner of her lips. How could he begrudge her a first love? It wasn't as if she would marry Mellok. Torsten would only have to put up with him until Leila showed interest in someone else. Knowing his sister, it wouldn't take long.