Title: Lost GirlSeries: Leeth Ascending #1
Published by: L. J. Kendall Publishing
Release Date: 2020/12/11
Contributors: L. J. Kendall (author), David Taylor (thEditors.com, editor), Mirella de Santana (cover designer)
Genre: Fantasy, Science fiction
Pages: 464
ISBN13: 9781925430165
ASIN: B08QFY24JK
Check it out on GoodreadsAlone. Lost.
Pulled from chill waters, she doesn’t tell her rescuer that someone’s trying to kill her. Nor that capture would be far worse.
She doesn’t tell him – because she can’t. She doesn’t remember.
Why though was Mason Dane in New Francisco Bay in the middle of the night? Was it entirely by luck that he lifted her from its cold embrace? Who is he? Can she trust him?
Can she trust herself? With her odd behaviors, her strange abilities… is she even human?
It’s 2063, decades after magic’s return. Hunted and on the run, it’s not the shadowy Department she should fear: it’s those who stole her memories.
That inner void however, that emptiness, has drawn the attention of uncanny forces.
For humanity, the risk is Freedom itself.
But for one lost girl – annihilation.
In stores: Booktopia (Au), Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Books 2 Read, Google search
INTRODUCTION
The Week of Miracles heralded the return of magic. Beginning on March 31st, 2036, it ended in the first World Storm, killing hundreds of thousands.
That terrible toll however was dwarfed in following years by the death of a billion more, from the God Wars of India, the Red Plague, the Melt virus, and finally, the global devastation of the Second World Storm.
It was the revelation that the last two of those catastrophes had been planned and executed by one person – Melisande d’Artelle – that made her the most feared and hated woman on Earth.
But despite her unique powers, she did not escape justice.
Hunted by a trio of powerful mages, she was tracked to a place beneath reality, and there slain. Of the three who challenged d’Artelle, two returned: but only one, still sane.
The world settled back on its course. New alliances formed, new technologies developed: Phasion energy cells, neural links to computers, artificial nerves and muscles. A colony set up on the Moon, and another on Mars; global warming and the sea level rise reversed by last-minute collective action; and humanity’s greatest engineering feat: the restoration of the Antarctic ice sheets by the Newtopian Corporation.
So the world spun on, but a changed world now, of high technology and age-old magic, in an uneasy mix.
A world of ancient powers, demonic Foes… and one young woman drawn into the vortex.
She was born as white-hot pain drained from her head, pounding her fists on a transparent wall.
Under her bruised hands the crystal barrier bounced and fought until at last, booming like a giant bell, it shattered in surrender.
Distant doors opened.
Go!
She flung herself out into welcoming darkness. Free!
Instantly, confusion overwhelmed relief. Floating now, she reached with aching fingers to a splinter of crystal, glinting as it spun. One touch sent it twisting away into a gathering wind.
Pain faded, relief a pure bliss. Her thoughts settled, eyes locking on the crystal shards orbiting her, tumbling and sparkling in the night.
Crystals? Or ice, revolving and twinkling, flashing lazily in the growing wind? She plucked a fragment from the rushing darkness. Long and razor edged, warm in her fingers. So warm for ice. She let it float free, focusing on the lights circling her. So pretty. Glowing shapes and words of emerald, ruby, and sapphire, spinning in shadow.
Blissful relief. She savored it even as the wind strengthened, stirring urgency through her veins. The lights slowed. Ice shards became armored glass. Below…
Below, dark waters hurtled upward.
Moments from impact she twisted cat-like, feet pointing instinctively. She hammered through the surface with the force of a car crash.
Only her perfect entry saved her life.
Glass daggers stabbed the water as she plunged deep, the churning water above mirroring the confusion inside. Long pale hair blossomed in a spreading halo above her as she slowed.
Then a shaft of bubbles lanced through the water, a dark flower blooming at its tip. Another, and another, and another, each closer than the last, tracking toward her. Each strange blossom beautiful yet somehow threatening. The next explosions smashed directly above and around her, grazing her neck, tearing free something black and shiny that gouged her before falling into the silent depths.
A bubble spear lunged straight for her head. One hand lashed up to intercept through water like molasses, twisting her whole body as she thrust-
An instant too late. The high caliber round bloomed, peeling open to club her forehead with stunning force. Blackness welled, but something deep inside struggled and clawed, forcing it back.
The impact reawoke a pain lurking within, deeper than thought. More intimate.
Another explosion, and something caught in her hair, tugging. She slowed, still sinking, still turning, the water clearing as bubbles wobbled in slow upward retreat. Frothing impacts tore into the dark water above, each explosion a spike to her ears.
Hold your breath.
High velocity rounds – get away.
Wondering where that thought came from, the pain in her head flared into agony.
Swim.
Her limbs responded clumsily at first. Something tugged in her hair, but she ignored it.
Lungs hammering, her throat tightened as she fought the urge to breathe. The explosions stopped, and for long seconds she swam fiercely through cold dark waters before angling upward toward faint fairy lights far above. Behind her, a beam of light stabbed down.
They’re looking.
Desperate for breath, her lungs burned, echoing the pain in her head. The dim lights glimmered overhead, a rippling liquid mirror beckoning, seductively close.
Not yet. Too soon.
Just two more strokes: then air.
No. Two more. Just two more.
Again.
Her lungs screamed.
One more.
One more.
The light moved away.
Up!
She exploded into air, gulping a single lungful before diving again, mind overriding body as her chest fought like a trapped animal to breathe. Again something tugged at her hair, and again she ignored it, staying underwater, heading toward shore by the after-images of dark buildings and docks glimpsed above, of office lights, high up.
Ten seconds. Twenty. Lungs bursting, she swam on. Thirty seconds. Still she swam. Suddenly, the searching light above vanished, a curtain drawn steadily across it. She froze, drifting forward, before struggling lungs forced her to claw her way up. Breaking free of the water, she sucked in grateful gulps of air.
Two arms length above, tightly fitted boards blocked the questing light. She bobbed in the cold water as a powerful beam shone from a high-rise, swooping and circling, seeking. It swept the wharf she’d surfaced beneath, momentarily making her flinch back underwater as if they could see through wood. Stupid, she told herself against the roaring pain in her head, and broke the surface again.
Once more a tug at her scalp, scratching the back of her neck. She grabbed something jagged and sharp, tearing hair to yank it free. A shiny flower, its peeled-back petals ragged metal, glinting as the beam stabbed again across the boards above. For a few seconds she floated in the water, panting, staring at the vicious sculpture in her hand. On impulse, she folded sharp petals back shut, one by one, unfamiliar snow white hairs still trapped between the torn edges. Closed back up it made a bud the length of her middle finger.
A high velocity round. You’d be dead if they’d used low velocity.
The words in her head renewed the spearing pain. Shoving the casing into a pocket of her jacket, she zipped it closed, feeling tiny cuts in her fingertips as she did.
The light moved away.
Now. Get out of the water. They’ll be coming for you.
Five strokes brought her to a concrete pylon, tires lashed to its sides. Stretching up, her fingers found an edge. Heaving herself one-handed from the water, she reached for the next, shoes seeking a lower tire’s rim, scrambling up and onto the wharf as neatly as a cat up a tree.
Her neck stung, a shallow pain. One hand rose to it, finding a wound; an absence. It’s gone! I need to report…. Agony swamped the thought and carried it away. She swayed, abruptly adrift. I just forgot… something. Something important. Pain rose, punishing even that insight.
I’m in trouble! I have to contact…. She held her head. Marcie! Marcie will be worried. Pain wormed its way back in, but she plowed on over it. Find a store, buy a Link, call… the thought evaporated like smoke; like the pain.
Why am I standing here? How did I get wet? She licked a finger. Salt water; blood. Turning, she saw an enormous harbor behind her; threatening searchlights.
But moments later those thoughts too, slipped from her grasp. What was I…? She shook the distraction away. Not important.
Clothing clung wetly as she raced from the jetty across an open expanse of concrete. Plunging between darkened warehouses she ducked into an alley, shoes squelching. Under a steady city roar, rats chittered and fled as she passed.
It didn’t seem strange to hear their pattering feet nor to clearly see, in shades of gray, the piles of rubbish littering the unlit alley. She stilled.
Squeezing her eyes shut, she bent double, drawing in deeper breaths, the pain in her head pounding to the beat of her heart. Panting, dripping, she looked up. A few hundred meters away, office blocks towered.
Her wrists were sore too, she realized. And her temples. And ankles. She opened her eyes, raising bruised fists and saw abraded wrists. Staring past them across the bay, an immense low bridge arched into darkness. On the far shore, lights twinkled.
A searchlight, sweeping the waters, went out.
Where am I?
Turning, she squelched on down the alley, emerging onto a broad road stretching left and right. Unlit warehouses fronted metal tracks laid across the road. Some distance behind, she heard stealthy booted feet. She let them herd her on while she searched for concealment. At the end of the road, another warehouse, gaps looming between it and the adjacent buildings towering left and right.
The booted feet were closer, now.
A rusting garbage skip sat at the corner of the alley to her right, the gap behind it easily deep enough for her to fit. She slipped in, dripping water, and tried to breathe quietly.
Shutting her eyes, she struggled against the nails pounding into her brain to visualize the ground she’d just covered. How much of a trail had she left, sprinting across? Too much. It’d be plain to see with UV goggles and torches. She knew they’d have them, even if she didn’t know how she knew that. A feral grin lit her face at the thought of sinking claws into her attackers. It distracted her from the sawing pain in her head.
Darting from cover, she paced down the alley to lay a short false trail, then backed up and finally jumped behind the dumpster to wait; resting her head against the rusting skip. Listening.
Fifty meters down the street, at the end of the alley she’d followed from the docks, the footsteps stopped. Two sets. Definitely booted.
“Is that her?” a deep voice rumbled, for a moment making her think she’d been seen.
“How the smek should I know?” whispered a second man’s voice. “Maybe. It came from the bay, and I don’t see any other trails.”
She looked down at the water slowly puddling at her feet, and smiled in the darkness.
“Party one,” said the same man again, his voice low. “Possible trail. Take a fix, we’re moving in.”
There was a reply, but she couldn’t make out the words. Just the sound of stealthy footsteps approaching. Somehow she knew they carried guns.
She tensed, crouching against the building behind her, braced in fierce anticipation. Her fingers tingled.
The footfalls were close now. The nearest set were heavy, very heavy. They stopped.
Yeah, UV torches. She launched herself over the skip, just as the rumbling voice whispered “She’s behind-”
She had a moment to register his massive size; goggles; the tusks protruding from the sides of his mouth. The muzzle of his pistol tracked toward her. Clearing the rim of the skip, she kicked out against it, boosting her flight and correcting her aim. One hand stabbed toward his massive but unprotected throat, hatred burning in crystal blades from her fingers. She punched deep through corded muscle and into bone, jolting his head back, her knees impacting his body as he toppled. She rode him just a moment, leaping from him to the man four steps behind.
Cursing, he took aim, firing as she twisted desperately.
She struck as needles pierced her side, vicious lightning jolting through her, and him. Her muscles spasmed; left hand raking his goggles, right hand at his throat, electricity writhing through them both.
He spasmed in turn, clenching the trigger tighter as her fingertips brushed his throat. Current surged harder, agony cramping her hand shut, her whole body curling up.
Don’t scream! Never scream. Never show the pain.
Hot liquid sprayed her face, but the torment continued. As she and her assailant collapsed boneless to the dirty asphalt, something struck the ground beside her a single, solid blow.
Silence.
Muscles buzzing and shivering, she jerked to one side. The agony in her head swelled in a wave so vast it swept her away.
When it ebbed to something less brutal, she unknotted stomach muscles to roll onto her back, amazed that so much pain could fill her skull so silently. Head lolling, she stared at the man lying so still beside her. Dead. Somehow she’d done that, she knew. She nodded, satisfied. Mildly puzzled.
His head nestled against her, between her chin and chest. But his body lay at the wrong angle to it, dribbles of dark fluid leaking from the torso, spreading over grubby tarmac.
His head’s practically off, she realized, confused. How? Did I really do that?
Then words. Tinny. Distant but close. She jerked her hand toward his head, twitching and cramping as she fought convulsing muscles, fumbling for his earbud.
The words came suddenly clear anyway, like a radio signal tuning in: “-one report! Repeat, why have you stopped?”
Pushing the head away she struggled to her feet and bullied her legs into operation, wobbling unsteadily upright.
More will come.
She looked around in the darkness, noting the wet prints all around, slowly drying in the night air. Grimacing at the pain, she tore off her soaking shoes, snagging velcro to loop them around her neck, then bent and took the weapon from the man’s hand. At the ultrasonic whine of a capacitor charging up, she dropped it a moment before a high-voltage discharge sparked against the ground, the digital display flipping to red lock-down. Bastards.
They’d be drawn right here by the unauthorized access. Backing into the alley by the skip, her eyes picked a path between torn plastic trash bags and wind-blown rubbish, deeper into the unfamiliar city. The obvious escape route. But how many more were coming?
Shutting her eyes, she strained, her hearing stretching out into the dark. Was that more stealthy treads? Murmured terse words?
They’d have cars, drones, scanners, sensors to see through buildings, she knew. A prickle of pain warned her from questioning the source of that knowledge. At that she paused, feeling she was missing something – that there was something she should be thinking about. She shook her head. No time for that now. This night-deserted maze was a massive trap. Once they found the two men she’d downed, they’d concentrate the search here.
That meant she should return to the water. But halfway there the night turned so black she could hardly see, and the world fell still. As if her ears had been plugged, and a curtain drawn across her eyes.
She stumbled to a halt.
“Testing?” Not quite deaf, not quite blind: she could hear her own voice, still see city lights, and the moon riding high.
Then the darkness flickered and vanished, her hands returning in bright shades of gray, the world flooding back in around her, a proper landscape of sound.
What just happened?
She had no idea. Turning, she raced barefoot back the way she’d come, sprinting down the wooden jetty to dive into the cold dark waters of the bay. Pain surged in her head, easing as she floated, watching hand-held lights move in the near distance, hunting. For a few seconds she rested, watching and breathing, accepting the throbbing in her head. The wound in her neck was a sharper pain, yet somehow easier to ignore, a touch showing it hardly bled.
Diving under the water, she swam at a steady pace. Forty strokes and she quietly surfaced, sucking in air and watching the activity around the buildings. A hundred meters from land, she filled her lungs and dived back under water.
Ten minutes later she felt safe enough to stay on the surface. She struck out surely in the cold dark, following the shoreline. As the city lights fell away, the buildings along the shore became fewer and squatter. One kilometer she swam, the spearing pain in her head a steady torment sapping her energy. Doggedly, she ignored it.
Dully, swam on.
The realization she was tiring arrived only gradually, her thoughts fighting through cotton wool. Had she swum another kilometer? The pounding in her head had settled into something not actually pain, just a weirdly leaching ache. The cold was getting to her though. Shivering, treading water, she scanned around her.
Ahead, in the direction she’d been swimming, the shore jutted up darkly, no lights shining from it. The other way, across the rolling black surface of the bay, distant lights twinkled, outlining both ends of a bridge’s massive span.
Where am I? Smaller lights moved along the shore from back the way she’d come, two boats quartering that area, their powerful searchlights probing. Something about that seemed familiar. Are they searching for me? She shuddered, the cold penetrating deep. I need to get warm. She swam quietly for shore, planning ahead. I’ll call a ride…. At the thought, she rolled her neck to confirm a snug presence: but found none. Pausing, one hand flashed to her neck, tracing only a grazing cut. Absence brought dismay. My beautiful Link! She chased a fleeting memory of sleek black elegance, until a prickle of pain lanced her head – but gently, as if herding her away.
Grinding her teeth she swam on, now dogged by the feeling she was overlooking something. About herself? Like, why they were hunting her? She frowned. Why were they hunting her?
The gently needling pain returned, and she snarled, letting the question go. For now.
But a perfectly audible whine just a hundred meters away made her stop again, worried, treading water. Shutting her eyes to focus on the source of the sound, she opened them again and narrowed her gaze. Krek! A drone, hovering fifty meters back from the shore. Two stories up. Looking for me? Backing quietly off she swam away, shivering.
Chit! I don’t believe this!
Four hundred meters on, another drone. The damned cheapskates had set up a perimeter of sentry drones, who-knew-how-far along the coast.
When she finished her quiet cursing, she turned slowly in the water and considered her options.
Near exhaustion now, despite her aching muscles she somehow knew her biggest threat had become the cold. She couldn’t feel her hands or feet properly, and her ears ached worse than her head. She had to get out of the water, but they’d detect her for sure if she came within range of a drone. Maybe a storm-water pipe? Then, from back the way she’d just come, a fair way from shore, she saw a faint light leaking from a silhouette: a boat, maybe.
Why not? She could slip aboard, get dry. Maybe even warm.
But fifty meters from the boat, treading water with clumsy legs like poorly-controlled paddles, she heard the almost inaudible whine of yet another drone! Un-blagging-believable. Wearily, her eyes tracked through the darkness till she found it. Have they covered the whole funting city in drones? Panic tugged at her. She wasn’t sure she could swim another fifty meters, let alone all the way back to shore. She couldn’t bend her fingers properly now, and she had to clench her jaws just to prevent the sound of chattering teeth from reaching the drone.
Gradually though, she realized this drone was different to the others. Far quieter. So quiet it had to be using active noise cancellation. And something else she noticed as she studied the vessel’s slim lines, wind chilling her face. The small cruiser stretched out sideways before her instead of pointing into the wind, a second rope angling down into the water from the back. Two anchors? Was that normal?
But she’d run out of options. Facing back to the distant shore, she saw the impossibility of swimming that far. Her choices had narrowed to the boat, or drowning.
Feebly-moving legs chose that moment to finally still, settling beneath the water. Adrenaline spiked, but her legs merely twitched in response. Somehow she got her arms moving, awkwardly flailing through the water toward the suddenly too-distant boat, aiming for the low board at the back that rose and dipped into the water with each gentle swell, abruptly unsure she could make it even that far.
I’ve left it too late.
This is the first book in the new series arc, Leeth Ascending.
It should make a good jumping-on point – it's not necessary to have read any of the books before this.