Broken Skies , livre ebook

Troubador Publishing Ltd - Hannah Spencer

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312 pages

English

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Twelve thousand years ago, a comet smashed into Earth. Years passed. The world began to recover. Powerful shamans ensured such a catastrophe would never happen again. They failed. Livia is the last of those shamans. The world is again crumbling around her, and she descends into the darkest realms of spirit to find the way to save her dying homeland. But every gift has its price, and Livia finds the answers she seeks because she is willing to pay that price. And now it seems the consequences will destroy everything she wanted to save.

Sujets

Turquía

Historical fiction

Turkey

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Publié par	Troubador Publishing Ltd
Date de parution	20 février 2020
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781838598327
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	2 Mo

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0150€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

Broken Skies
Ouroboros Book One
Hannah Spencer
Copyright © 2020 Hannah Spencer

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study, or criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the publishers, or in the case of reprographic reproduction in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside those terms should be sent to the publishers.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Matador®
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ISBN 978 1838598 327

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

Matador® is an imprint of Troubador Publishing Ltd

Hannah Spencer has been writing visionary, historical and paranormal fiction and non-fiction for several years in between working on a dairy sheep farm where hours in the milking parlour offer much scope for thinking up story ideas. She is the author of The Story of Light , The Wolf of Allendale , Dreamweaver and several short stories . Find her online at:

http://hannah-spencer-author.weebly.com ,
http://light-onecandle.blogspot.com
http://ouroboros-series.blogspot.com
Facebook @hannahspencerwriter
Twitter @hspencer339

Death borders on our birth, and our cradle stands in the grave.
Joseph Hall, Bishop of Norwich, 1574-1676.

Contents
PART ONE
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
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15
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19
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23
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25

PART TWO
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
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14
15
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19
20
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26
27

PART THREE
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
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26
27
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29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37

PART FOUR
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
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23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33

PART FIVE
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13

Author’s note

And so it begins
A dead end. She knew that at once.
She stopped, felt the impenetrable walls of vegetation closing around her. Dizziness threatened to swallow her as her crippled ribs struggled for air. The labyrinthine walls of green flanking the path breathed and pulsed around her, tugging at her last remaining strength. She could sense the creepers and vines twining up her legs and around her body. Holding her still.
She managed to focus, turned.
He was there already. No way out.
He smiled as he came towards her. She backed away until she felt the blackthorn blocking her way. Her swelling, blackened wrist throbbed unbearably. She’d lost her blade. She could hear her blood spattering on the grass. It was over. Ma’at had chosen. They both knew that.
The sensation again of falling into an ever-spiralling, never-ending void. Her spirit, her mind, slowly dissolving. The place she’d escaped, the place she’d never forget. It hadn’t wanted to let her go. She knew now it never had.
Choices. Consequences. Life. Death. All condensing on this point. Her fate. Her future. She’d told nobody the truth about what would happen now. She was barely sure she knew herself.
Blackness was drawing over her eyes, drawing her back to that terrifying place. She tried to quell her fear. She knew he could feel it. She’d thought she was ready. Nobody could be ready for this.
She focused on him, clinging to her balance. A hunter stalking his prey. All around them, in the green, in the shadows, where nobody could see but her, another predator was waiting for a prize long due.
He was watching her carefully as he came towards her. His eyes held hers, lulling her into acceptance. She was grateful for that. She shouldn’t be this weak.
So close now. So close. Too much to bear. Her world was blending with another, so distant it was meaningless. She didn’t let herself see it. She couldn’t bear to.
He was keeping to the side of the path, as if he was giving her a chance. Except she knew he wasn’t.
She ran, like he wanted. He caught her easily and tripped her. She didn’t try to fight as he pushed her down onto the grass, his knee on her back. The terror threatened to engulf her again and she focused on his grip on her, his ruthless strength she could never have equalled, now almost comforting.
He stroked her hair from her neck and his blade touched her skin. ‘It won’t hurt,’ he said quietly.
‘We’ve been a long way together,’ she said. ‘A pity, it had to be like this.’
He squeezed her shoulder.
Her blood pooled on the grass. Above them, the birds sang.

Another racking pain. She couldn’t help screaming.
A hand touched her and the pain faded. They were all around her. Moving shadows in the firelight, dancing to the hypnotic rhythm of the rattles. In her half-delirious state, she could barely distinguish the half-human shades from the two cloaked women.
Invisible hands touched her sweat-soaked face. She whimpered and jerked away. The women were beside her at once.
‘They’re not here to harm you. They’re here to witness.’ The voice drifted through the shadows as if commanding them.
She focused on the tiny points of light dancing on the walls of the cave. A burnt aroma crept into her lungs. She tried to focus on her balance. She was strong enough to endure this. That was why they’d chosen her, chosen her child.
The pains in her belly were pulsing with the incessant, echoing rhythm. The smoke grew thicker. She let it fill her and her mind pulsed with the pain. The shadows danced around her. Beyond them, the suffocating blackness they were hiding her from. Hiding her child. She let them touch her, trying not to flinch from the unnatural sensation, and felt the women’s approval. The pain in her belly changed.
‘She’s coming.’
All gathered closer. The pulse intensified. The firelight receded. The wraiths drew nearer, stretched invisible hands towards her. Animal, human, animal again. The women’s shades moved like hovering vultures.
So close now. So close. Too much to bear. Her world was blending with another, so distant it was meaningless. She didn’t let herself see it. She couldn’t bear to. The pain mingled with fear as she saw what would come.
Life. Death. Choices. Consequences. All condensing on this one point. Her choice. She could change it. Her mother’s instinct urged her to do it.
She knew what to do. That was why they’d chosen her. A sickening void touched her, despite the shadows, and she let it come as more pain tore through her. She willed all her strength to her child as the blackness filled her. She was strong enough. That was why they’d chosen her.
‘Nearly there now.’
A new edge to the voice. It frightened her.
A ripping wetness between her legs.
Silence.
She struggled to sit up, desperate to see. She couldn’t be. She couldn’t have failed. Hands pushed her back down.
The rhythm slowed, pulsed like a heartbeat.
The baby took a breath.

PART ONE
1
Ninshubur knew at once that things had gone very wrong. She watched Enki hasten across the plain towards their camp and fear began to creep through her.
‘Liv’s dead. We need to go.’
All she could do was stare at him.
‘She can’t be! She knew she wouldn’t die!’
‘She knew she would die. She knew you couldn’t cope with it. Come on.’
She pulled away as he gripped her arm. ‘Perhaps she’s not dead? Perhaps they’ve just got her somewhere?’
‘Why would they do that? She’s no use to them alive. None of us are. Now come on!’
On the heights beyond the pass to Dilmun, they heard the howl of a wolf, summoned to the hunt. They snatched what they could carry and ran. There was no point hiding their tent or the remains of their fire. A wolf would scent it at five hundred paces.
Ninshubur followed Enki into the meagre cover of the pistachio trees clinging to the rocky slope, focusing on the treacherous trail, straining for the sound of racing paws, trying not to feel her grief, her loss, her fear. The Anunnaki could hunt down anything, including them.
They started to climb up a long, exposed ridge which would eventually lead them to the plains of the Great River. She looked back, saw three wolves five hundred paces back, searching through the undergrowth as if they were flushing out bustards or hares. Unnatural wolves, under the control of the Anunnaki. She went cold as she stared.
A prickling on her neck. She saw a distant, cloaked figure watching them.
‘That’s Dumuzi. He’s the one who killed her.’
Something crossed the distance between them as she watched. A challenge, a sense