Dark Rain: Book 1 of The Aetherium Saga
Page 1
Dark Rain
Book 1 of
The Aetherium Saga
Jilly MacKenzie
Copyright © 2017 by Jilly MacKenzie
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
Paperback ISBN: 978-1-9999646-1-0
Ebook ISBN: 978-1-9999646-0-3
Hardback ISBN: 978-1-9999646-2-7
Lonely Ghost Publishing
www.jillymackenzie.wixsite.com/jillymackenzie
www.facebook.com/aetheriumsaga
This book is dedicated to my parents. They provided me with an extraordinary childhood, and continue to support me and guide me in all my endeavours.
Prologue
- Rub' al Khali desert. Year: 1000 CE -
A sudden gust of wind sent a flurry of tangerine sand upwards, and white light tore out of the air. A shining figure swiftly emanated out of the light, and landed firmly on the disturbed spot.
Almost at once, the figure's luminosity began to fade, revealing a woman of immense celestial beauty. Her thick dark hair hung down both sides of her head in two large braids, intertwined with gold and blue threading. Every inch of her glittered with brilliance, from her ornate jewellery adorning her slender neck and arms, to the sheer satin tunic flapping gently behind her in the soft desert breeze.
She slowly rose up to her full height, and the electric blue glow of her eyes dimmed to reveal a watchful emerald gaze. Luminous lines of strange blue symbols ran down her cheeks and neck, an archaic language etched upon bronze skin, over a lithe and feminine frame.
She glanced warily around for some time before digging her feet into the dune, making sure she was secure, then placed her hands outstretched before her, forming a triangle with them. Taking a deep, shaky breath, she closed her eyes, and began chanting in a long dead language. She repeated the incantation twice, then paused to scan her surroundings expectantly.
Frowning at the orange stillness around her, she regained her position and restarted the chant, louder. Emphasising a name. Repeating it again and again, louder and louder, until her eyes glowed electric blue once more and she wailed a desperate command to the sky.
'Amar-utuk, negeltu! Marduk! Negeltu!’
Calf of the sun, awake! Marduk! Awake!
The ground shuddered around her, and the dunes shifted and roiled like ocean waves. She backed away for a better view, and saw a pale arm thrust out of the sand amidst the rippling desert. A male arm, muscled and tensed. The strong fingers clawed at the sky. She smiled with pride, and disappeared in a blinding gust, as quickly as she had appeared.
Chapter 1
Arrival
- Loire Valley, France. Year: 2092 CE -
The ground-shuttle's window was translucent with steam, and beyond the thick pane of glass, the night was a black abyss. Only the occasional bright sweep of moonlight through gaps in the treeline, told Lenore that she was still moving.
Drakestoke Psychiatric Institution was situated comfortably within miles of reforested land, but she did not realise just how long it would take to reach the institution from Paris, especially travelling by an automatic transport shuttle.
I could have been there 20 minutes ago if I was allowed to have flown The Cirrus, she dryly thought to herself, imagining reclining comfortably in the pilot seat of her beloved skycraft.
She much preferred piloting herself through the air, rather than being chauffeured along the ground by a ridiculous automatic contraption. She hated not being in control, but showing up to the institution in her own skycraft would not be how a new patient would arrive. It would blow her cover immediately.
She glanced down at the assignment brief folder on her lap, the large stark white letters ECIT: Earth Counter Intelligence Taskforce on its cover. Her seating compartment was again illuminated briefly in another shock of moonlight, as the shuttle sped past a wide expanse of forgotten parkland.
I must be getting close, this looks like the long abandoned lands of a chateau.
Turning the brightness up on the overhead light above her, she opened the folder and once again digested the information of her destination.
“Drakestoke Psychiatric Institution, an International Genetic Screening corrective facility for the criminal and abnormal. One of ten IGS institutions for human psychological correction in Europe. Though it was the only one situated outside of a major population centre. Isolated from civilisation. It lies within the central rewilded region of France, containing deciduous forests, river valleys, wildflower meadows, managed forestry and farmland areas, and uninhabited settlements.”
Lenore frowned as she thought of all the long abandoned homes, towns, and cities, in the rewilded regions of the world. After the Human Congregation Protocol of 2050, people were forced to move their lives to their nearest designated major population centre. This left entire regions of countries empty of human life, and forgotten. There were of course places still managed by rangers and conservators, and places owned and inhabited by the wealthy, or the powerful, such as Drakestoke.
Lenore felt a wave of melancholy wash over her, as it always did when she thought of the Congregation Protocol, of which her organisation, ECIT, was a part of creating. She was a part of creating. Looking down again, she continued to read.
“Established in 2045 by the British IGS resourcer and philanthropist, Edward Drakestoke, whom proposed that the Chateau de Chaumont, a favourite place of his childhood and doomed to be left abandoned by the Human Congregation Protocol, be converted into an IGS correctional facility. The Chateau de Charmont therefore became Drakestoke Psychiatric Institution. Edward Drakestoke died in 2070, leaving the entire estate to the IGS.
In honour of Edward’s contribution to the improvement of environmental and human health, the IGS has allowed the institute to remain and continue its work, and has become one of the most prestigious institutions in Europe.”
Lenore's heart flipped in disgust, these institutions… dumping grounds for the unwanted. Just goes to show the collective attitudes of today’s people. Euthanise, lock away, or hide from the authorities. Those are the options parents are faced with when they have 'imperfect' offspring. And all too many of them choose to destroy their disappointing children. Removing the unwanted genes from the population entirely.
She turned the page over to her official ECIT mission briefing, reading the short section one more, as an attempt to gather her wits.
“On behalf of The Earth Counter Intelligence Taskforce, Inquisitor Lenore Falkirk is hereby assigned to the undercover investigation of the Anunnaki occurrences mapped to the location of the International Genetic Screening facility: Drakestoke Psychiatric Institution, France.”
A subtle shiver rolled down her spine as she thought of that voice. A voice so old and ancient, predating humankind. Originating in the far reaches of our solar system. And, for reasons unknown, focused in on a particular point three years ago. They had missed their chance to triangulate the position of it, but they had not missed recording its brief message.
Lenore was the only agent on the communications taskforce who had picked up on the vague Sumerian heard within the radio signals. She had worked tirelessly, night and day, translating the muddled snippets of the celestial language. Uncovering fragmented words from the mess of recordings.
‘Šhilig… Ankida… Zàg.’
Stop… Tether… Chosen.
Similar signals were again picked up by ECIT communication satellites. They were o
f the same frequency, and voice, of the one they missed. It was emitted frequently, almost every day, and were eventually pinpointed to a particular place on Earth. An IGS complex, amongst a sea of forest in France’s abandoned Loire region. Drakestoke.
I wouldn’t be surprised if the shady IGS had some part in all of this, Lenore thought to herself.
She found her nerves getting the better of herself and exhaled a sigh as she closed the folder. The word tether was a worrying one for everyone in ECIT. Tethering is theorised to be a form of possession via a linked consciousness between a human and Anunnaki individual. There was very little, if any concrete evidence of it. Lenore had just one incomplete account of the Ankida bond, on a 10,000 year old Sumerian stone tablet.
Lenore took out her omni-purpose utility from her pack. She twisted out the lighter from the compact mass of tools, and set the briefing folder on fire. Then opening the window, she tossed the flaming wad of papers out into the freezing night. She could not have it in her possession when she arrives at Drakestoke.
She had only recently been promoted to an Inquisitor of the Earth Counter Intelligence Taskforce. A highly trained tier of agents, composed of insiders, hackers, and undercover agents. This mission was her first, and hers alone. Tasked with personally following up on the alien signals, Lenore is to gain knowledge and information on the origin and purpose of the Anunnaki presence at Drakestoke Psychiatric Institution.
Who is the unsuspecting tethered hostage of this rogue Anuna? And why is this Anuna acting separate from the rest of the Anunnaki? The signals bearing down on Drakestoke are strong. Stronger and more frequent than the others we encounter. And this rogue’s message was cryptic and strange, whereas the rest of his kind send purposeful warnings of impending doom. That is the unnerving difference here… this rogue Anuna’s message was not meant for us.
She sighed, regaining her thoughts, Administrator Deacon believes I am ready for my first solo mission. I believe I am too.
Lenore knew her objective, she knew its importance to the survival of the human race, and she knew to expect danger. She could not fail.
***
The shuttle shuddered to a stop and its energy drive disengaged, filling her ears with sudden silence. Her heart raced with anticipation as she realised she had arrived at her destination. This was to be her new home until her mission objective is complete.
Unlocking her compartment door, she grabbed her small suitcase, and stepped out onto the soft snow.
Icey air enveloped her body, despite her winter attire. The comfortable internal environment of the shuttle had not prepared her for the wintry climate outside.
Her nervousness was instantly alleviated when she gazed upon the extraordinary scene before her. She was bathed in an amber glow, emitted from frosty windows of the grand chateau. The beautiful building stood proudly out of the perfect carpet of snow. Its conical tower tops reached high into the starry sky; obscuring even the moon behind their magnificence. Never before had Lenore seen such a scene of tranquil and stark ambiance, like it had materialised from a page of an old fairy-tale.
She noticed silhouetted figures moving around underneath an archway in the main façade, and she made her way through the shin-high snow towards them. It took her a moment to realise she was walking on a lowered drawbridge as she approached the figures under the archway.
Such an impressive place. A far cry from the megatropolis of Paris, where I’ve been stationed for far too long on the communications team.
‘Welcome to Drakestoke, miss Blake,’ welcomed the subtle French accent and soft smile of a middle-aged woman. She had used Lenore’s alias, which alleviated Lenore’s nervousness somewhat. She took Lenore’s hand in a firm shake, ‘I am Madame Cavere, the overseer of this institute'.
‘I’ll take these to your room, miss,’ the crackled voice of an older man insisted as he took her luggage and disappeared through a small door in left side of the archway.
Lenore barely muttered out a greeting to either when she was swiftly ushered through the courtyard and into a grand entranceway, emerging into what she identified as the main foyer.
Her chilled skin was welcomed by a rush of warmth, and her eyes adjusted quickly to the bright golden light from the chandeliers above. The light seemed to reflect all around her, off of the smooth polished floor, and from the crystal and gold finery which glittered from every inch of the expansive room.
She noted the incredible blending of historic décor, like the vaulted ceilings, and sweeping staircases, with modern technology such as surveillance screens and translucent energy barriers.
Overseer Cavere proceeded to present Lenore with a short tour of all the function rooms, such as the grand salon, dining hall, library, ballroom, a brief passing by of the male quarters, and ending with a quick listing off of facility regulations and optional classes. Cavere eventually gave Lenore her keycard, and left her outside of her allocated room within the female quarters.
By the time Lenore was finally in her room, alone, she had mentally stored the many faces of patients and staff she passed, memorised the locations of security cameras, energy barriers, and staff posts, and ingested all information revealed by the very talkative overseer.
Due to the sheer size of the chateau and its outbuildings, and only a mere thirty-five patients, and twenty-three residential staff, each individual was easily allocated their own room. Additionally, Lenore was classed as a ‘low-risk’ resident. Her fake documentation stated that she came to Drakestoke by her own volition. She was therefore not expected to be too closely watched, meaning that she could come and go as she pleased. Except to out-of-bounds areas, which are energy-barred anyway.
Her cover story, as pre-arranged by her supervisor, Administrator Deacon, and paid for by ECIT, is that Lenore is on a ‘stress release stay’ from the megatropolis of Paris. It was an odd alternative to a simple vacation, but was believable nonetheless, as the Loire area was renowned for its grand beauty and tourism attraction.
Although, despite being a fake stress release patient, Lenore must upkeep a very real treatment of a prescribed daily walk of the grounds, and twice daily mellowing medication.
Daily walks don't sound so bad. And the placebo sugar pills that ECIT have surreptitiously supplied Drakestoke, won't affect me in the slightest, she mused.
Sat on her generously sized four-poster bed, Lenore looked around her room, noting the overly lavish Renaissance decorating, with some gothic flair. From the huge armoire to the intricate ceiling coving, the opulence was breath-taking.
She had been informed back at ECIT that Drakestoke took pride in its historical setting and kept to its French Renaissance chateau theme with no expense spared from the IGS. After all, they have patients from very wealthy families residing here, plus the great publicity from the annual Christmas masquerade. All that income must be shown to go somewhere, she thought cynically.
She moved to the window and gazed out upon miles of dark finger-like branches, reaching up to a cosmic sky. She was amazed by the number of stars visible to her naked eye. In the populous megacities, light pollution painted the night sky in a constant dark amber colour, allowing only the brightest stars, satellites, and the moon to be seen.
Lenore unpacked her few belongings, and bathed in her adjoining ensuite bathroom, enjoying her usual lavender-scented lotion that she had been allowed to bring. Afterwards, she dressed into the white Drakestoke nightwear laid upon her bed, complete with the IGS logo embellished on the right upper arm. She rolled her eyes, great, give me nightmares...
Climbing into the freshly laundered sheets, she shut off her lamp, and proceeded to fall into a deep sleep. Full of determination and expectation of the mission ahead of her.
Chapter 2
Undercover
Lenore woke to the sound of three whooping notes, almost like a soft siren, echoing down the corridor outside of her room. Minutes later, soft footsteps and low mumbling of morning conversations passed by her door. She looked a
t her wall-mounted interactive screen. 9:10am. The morning call, breakfast will be soon.
After getting herself ready, Lenore studied herself in the full length mirror, and frowned. The Drakestoke day uniform consisted of simple compression-style long-sleeved top and pants. And much to Lenore’s disdain, the blue and green IGS logo was embellished onto the sleeve of the right upper arm. Dark navy in colour, and form-fitting, the attire was made for comfort, breathability, and durability. Close-fitting to the body… makes it easier to handle and restrain a person.
She quickly gave her long red hair a thorough combing, it’s golden flecking glistened in the morning light from the windows. Her streak of pure white hair was starkly visible by her left temple, and she attempted to cover it with the rest of her hair.
Upon opening her room door, Lenore was met with a shy smile as a meek, slight girl, no older than her late teens, skipped by her and down the hall, disappearing around a corner.
Lenore noticed the girl, one of many faces she tried to memorise, yesterday, during her induction tour. She recalled seeing the girl by a large window in the grand salon, curled up tightly in the lap of a ragged-haired male whom looked down at her with such gentleness, while she licked her own hand.
Licking her own hand like a contented cat… I am sure to see much stranger things during my stay here. This is a facility for the 'imperfect' specimens of humankind after all…
Lenore could hear the commotion of clanking dishes and the high and low hubbub of a variety of voices all conversing at once. Breakfast must already have started.
She made her way down the opulent hall of the female quarters, when a male voice called to her from behind, ‘are you lost?’
Lenore looked over her shoulder to see a slender dark-haired man leaning out of a staircase opening, grinning at her. This is the female quarters. He cannot be allowed here?