Foresender fury, p.1
ForeSender Fury, page 1
ForeSender Fury
A ForeSender Novel - Book 1
Adrian Murphy
About this Book
Magic and technology collide as the fate of worlds hangs in the balance.
Earth’s twenty-two billion citizens are desperate for new living-space. A wormhole takes colonists to Calistra, a planet whose people are at a medieval stage of development—no match, it seems, for hover-tanks and laser rifles.
Soon the settlers become stranded. The world they face is hostile, dangerous, and part of a galactic alliance, where some inhabitants have special powers.
One such, Galindra, leads an inter-planetary team of investigators called the ForeSenders. She still mourns her mother’s mysterious disappearance and yearns to discover the truth. Now she must probe the violent abduction of the king’s brother on Calistra.
When she encounters the newcomers from Earth, Galindra suspects the events are connected. Can she uncover the true nature of the opposing forces and prevent total war? Or will her time run out?
ForeSender Fury is the first installment of a fantasy series laced with science fiction and mystery. If you like page-turners about mythical creatures, shape shifters, planet colonization, and galactic marines versus dragons and trolls, then you will love this book. Think blue Avatar and Starship Troopers meet Brandon Sanderson and Sarah J. Maas.
Copyright © 2021 by Adrian Murphy
All rights reserved
Paperback ISBN: 978-1-7779222-0-7
Ebook ISBN: 978-1-7779222-1-4
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including scanning, photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the copyright owner, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Website: adrianmurphybooks.com
For my mom.
You instilled in me a love of reading and encouraged me to write.
All my love and gratitude, always.
Contents
1. Abduction
2. Mind-trance
3. Wormhole
4. Dragon
5. Outlaw
6. Mangled corpses
7. Sabotage
8. Wreckage
9. Secret meeting
10. Nightmare
11. Airborne
12. Willowleaf
13. Strange warriors
14. Evac
15. Debrief
16. Stranded
17. Hover-tanks
18. Silent dark mansions
19. Missing package
20. Tech fixer
21. Park deck
22. Deception
23. Ambush
24. Overdue
25. Fire serpents
26. Mysteries
27. Manor house
28. Incinerated
29. Lockdown
30. The watcher
31. Garroted
32. Blue-tattooed warrior
33. Rogue code
34. Incoming
35. Distant smoke
36. Pyre
37. Dangerous foe
38. Plot
39. Poisoned
40. Death throes
41. Damage
42. Energy burst
43. Booby trap
44. Realization
45. Something fishy
46. Terrorist
47. Bivouac
48. Crossroads
49. Injuries
50. The sanctuary
51. Trolls
52. Housemaid
53. Castle Westling
54. Raiders
55. Stabbed
56. Homing beacon
57. Protest
58. Insurrection
59. Firefight
60. Arbor
61. Doubts
62. Hidden
63. Virus
64. Under attack
65. Hot zone
66. Metal wagons
67. Trouble ahead
68. Gifts
69. Soldiers of Birthon
70. Spotted
71. Friends
72. Hold the line
73. Harpoon
74. Tuck and roll
75. Reinforcements
76. Vulnerable
77. Challenge
78. Questions
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1
Abduction
Planet Calistra
Prince Cael-Rath sighed with pleasure as he luxuriated in the warm, scented water enfolding his ample bulk. He eased deeper into the tall wooden tub, a goblet of mulled wine cradled in one hand.
It had been another tiresome day of hearing endless petitions on behalf of his royal master and older brother, King Milesta.
The prince reminded himself that, as governor of North Birthon, his duties included adjudicating the pleas of the populace, powerful and poor alike. He found most were petty, self-motivated entreaties for favor of one kind or another, often to the detriment of a despised neighbor or a much-resented relative.
Cael-Rath took a generous swallow of wine and allowed the water to relieve the cares of office. A smile creased his face as he thought of how nightfall had more than made up for the day’s tedium.
After he dismissed the final petitioners, his favorite courtesan, Marta, had been waiting in his private rooms with a buffet of tasty delicacies—all intended to gratify his carnal and culinary desires. Sultry and full-bosomed, Marta had proven to be most adventurous this evening, willing and able to satisfy every sexual whim.
Once their lovemaking had ended, he had expressed his undying admiration and appreciation for her many charms and left her dozing on the wide bed.
As he settled back in the steaming tub, he drowsed and let his mind drift, delighting in the calming serenity of the candle-lit chamber.
He felt relaxed, safe, knowing that his inner sanctum was secure behind barred windows and sturdy bolted doors. Armed guards patrolled the hallways, ensuring that his person and privacy were protected.
Cael-Rath was not sure how much time had elapsed, but the bathwater had cooled, waking him from his happy slumber. He toweled dry, and slipping into a comfortable robe, padded back down the corridor to his bedchamber.
The fire had burned lower, as had some candles, and the room was now darker than when he had left to take his bath. Shadows massed around the edges of the spacious chamber.
He picked up a plate from the sideboard and began to help himself to a late-night snack. From the corner of his eye, he spotted a shapely leg draped over the side of the bed.
Cael-Rath frowned, turning his head. “Marta, my dear, are you still awake? And what is that appalling stench? It reminds me of…”
Memories rose unbidden to his mind. The confusion of siege and battle, blood-spattered warriors and horses shrieking in agony, houses robed in flames—and above all, the cloying reek of singed flesh. Roasted human flesh. That’s what he smelled now.
He looked toward the capacious bed and gagged, staring wide-eyed at the gaping hole that marred the beauty of his mistress’s face. Her sightless eyes seemed to glare in mute protest at her unexpected and violent death.
The plate fell from his hand, food tumbling unheeded onto the rug. He stepped closer to the bell pull hanging by the chamber door, intending to summon his guards.
Cael-Rath gasped, the breath quickening in his chest, as a figure emerged from the shadows in the far corner. The newcomer wore a smooth, rounded helmet with a black mirror-like visor and held a pointed object that resembled a personal crossbow.
A second intruder, hooded and cloaked, stood behind the first, its face hidden in darkness.
As the prince lunged for the bell pull, light flashed, and a searing pain erupted between his shoulders. Then all sensation fled his body, and he toppled to the floor.
2
Mind-trance
The lead rider pushed her hood back and prepared for the mind-trance. Her gaze took in the raven soaring high above the leaf-bare branches. Sleek coal-black plumage silhouetted the bird against the pale cloudless sky.
With dark, purple-flecked eyes narrowed, the rider focused on the circling shape. She raised a hand from where it rested on the pommel of her saddle, and the five mounted warriors following behind slowed. Their horses walked the snow-deepened track as the figure cast her senses upward.
She stiffened, head tilted back, and her vision shifted as her mind entered that of the bird. It seemed unaware of the interloper whose thoughts insinuated themselves throughout its being.
The woman recalled that the mind-trance was a technique she had learned from her mother. For a moment, she pictured a smiling face, full lips framed by lustrous crimson hair, and remembered a lilting laugh. Mother! If only I could see you one more time. What happened to you?
She forced her awareness back to the raven. The creature, obeying the urge it now felt, flexed its broad wings, banking to gain altitude.<
From a great height, the dark-haired rider could now see what the bird saw: the tips of the snow-mantled trees far below, where the trail left the encircling woods and crossed open ground ahead.
As the raven flew higher still, the woman gazed through its eyes toward the distant horizon. Her mouth tightened as she glimpsed smoke drifting in ponderous clumps above an expansive forest, away to the north.
Eyes and ears straining, she detected faint screams, a bare whisper on the breeze, as if half heard in a dream. But these outpourings of agony and fear were all too real.
She urged the creature to glide lower, following the track as it plunged beneath more woodland, the trees massing outward and onward on all sides like silent, watchful sentinels. Instinct, heightened by her connection with the raven, caused the figure to stare at the line of trees with the aid of the bird’s sharp eyes.
Silence stretched for a few more heartbeats.
The woman smiled her thanks at the bird as she released the mind-link. She turned to her companions, gesturing for them to halt their mounts. As they did, the riders’ breath mingled with that of the horses to form floating streams of vapor in the crisp, biting air.
“We are not alone.”
She spoke in a calm, resonant voice. “The trail crosses open grassland and then enters another section of forest. I sense about a dozen armed warriors hiding in the undergrowth on the far side of the clearing.”
“Outlaws lying in wait for passing travelers, or a deliberate ambush set for us, I wonder?” The speaker lifted dark gray eyes and glanced ahead to where the track left the shelter of the woods.
“I do not know, Salith, but I suspect their purpose is not friendly.”
“Then let us prepare to meet them, sister-mine.” Salith pushed back his broad hood, revealing long, silver-veined dark hair. “Some exercise to warm my chilled bones would be most welcome.”
The leader turned her head to look at the others. Each wore black from head to toe, heavy cloaks wrapped around them. All but her wore swords at their hips, while bows with arrow-packed quivers lay strapped to their saddles.
“That’s not all. I saw smoke and heard screams in the air from the direction we came. Something is wrong back in Havenwood. The town may be in danger.”
One rider gasped and urged his horse forward.
“Patience, Barok,” said the woman, raising her hand. “I understand your concern for the safety of your birthplace and kin, but we must first deal with the threat in front of us.”
Barok bowed his head and quieted his mount. “As you wish, Galindra. But if Havenwood is under attack, then the portal itself may be at risk.”
Galindra brushed a hair from her brow and glanced at her brother. She said nothing aloud, but Salith felt her words resound in his mind.
I do not believe it is a coincidence that these warriors are waiting for us. We left Havenwood at dawn two days ago, after portalling from Centristra only the night before. Few knew of the mission from our uncle, Arch Mage Mirchelius, to journey to Castle Grayrock. Someone may not want us to investigate the abduction of Prince Cael-Rath. We may have been betrayed.
Salith’s expression was grim as he looked into his sister’s impassive eyes. Then let us deal with this obstruction on our path, and if we can, take one alive to discover what he or she may tell us about the prince’s whereabouts. His reply slipped unobstructed between Galindra’s own thoughts.
The rest of the company watched the unspoken exchange, aware that the turn of events troubled the two siblings.
Galindra gazed across the open grassland toward the distant tree cover as she nudged her horse forward and wondered what the coming encounter would bring.
On the opposite side of the clearing, the waiting warriors were almost numb with cold. They had been forbidden a fire and stamped their feet to keep warm. Their leader, Reynald, fingered the hilt of his sword, and for what seemed like the tenth time in as many minutes, screwed up his eyes to peer at the faraway trees.
He had been told to expect the six riders to arrive at this point in the track leading from Havenwood town to Castle Grayrock during the early morning. Where were they?
His mind traveled back two nights earlier to the meeting in the roadside tavern. A mysterious figure had approached Reynald as he sat in a dark corner, cradling a tankard of ale. Hooded and muffled against the cold, the newcomer’s words were hard to hear over the din of the busy inn. But there was no mistaking the welcome chink from the fat leather bag that was tossed onto the table.
The stranger described the job and told him where and when to position his band of outlaws for the ambush. It sounded straightforward enough—until his new employer mentioned that two of their opponents were ForeSenders.
Reynald almost turned the job down when he heard this. His hand reached forward to push the bag of coins away when, with an even louder clink, a second bulging bag was deposited beside the first. He knew better than to turn down such a lucrative undertaking, and despite his misgivings, had nodded his assent.
“Two further bags of gold after the job is done and the ForeSenders and their companions are dead. Bury the bodies deep in the woods, then meet me back here five nights from now.” The voice was a gruff whisper above the hubbub that enfolded the pair.
Reynald was sure it was a man from the timbre of the person’s speech, but the other’s features were obscured by the deep cowl and the dim light in the shadowed corner where they sat.
Now, as he stood under the trees, doubt wound its tendrils through his thoughts. To attack a lone ForeSender was risky at the best of times. There would be two of them, no doubt possessing dangerous magical skills, else the payment would not have been so great.
That was why he had brought Melnik along. He glanced at the thin figure standing nearby and wondered if the disgraced mage would be enough.
True, Reynald had a dozen warriors, twice as many as he had been told he would be facing. But ForeSenders had a habit of evening the odds. And Reynald had no plans to die that day, bags brimming with gold coins or not.
He was about to tell Melnik that they had been misinformed when he glimpsed movement at the far side of the clearing. Six black-garbed riders appeared from the woods and approached across the intervening grassland.
Reynald smiled and drew his sword, as several of his companions fitted arrows to their short bows and prepared to rain death down on the unsuspecting group.
The riders seemed oblivious until the figure in front raised a hand, and they came to a halt. Reynald started when he realized they had stopped just out of arrow range. He cursed under his breath when the leader called out in a commanding voice that carried to the trees beyond, the sound almost echoing in his mind.
“Show yourselves.”
Reynald gasped. He was sure he knew that voice. Unless he was much mistaken, it was Galindra, one of the most powerful and feared of all ForeSenders.
If he had known he would be facing her, he would have demanded ten times the payment and still refused to take the job. But he had no choice but to go through with it. He couldn’t back out without losing face and risking the wrath of his comrades, let alone that of his unknown employer.
With a resigned sigh, Reynald signaled the others. He and his fellow outlaws stepped away from the cover of the trees and fanned out in a line facing the riders.
Unseen by the two groups, the Pathfinder crouched next to a fallen tree trunk, all but invisible in his camouflaged enviro-suit.
Captain Grant Naylor of the Earth Expeditionary Force checked the heads-up display on the inside of his helmet visor. All systems were in the green, and most important, the null-field registered as operational.
He was grateful for the enviro-suit, which allowed him to blend in with the background and move unobserved through any terrain. The e-suit’s null-field hid his body’s heat emissions, resulting in near invisibility from detection equipment and the naked eye. Even body odor was masked. However, he had to be careful not to make any loud noise, and remember that his footprints were visible, a particular problem in snowy or muddy conditions like these.
Naylor was aware he was behind schedule. It had taken longer than expected for him and his team to traverse the dense snow-draped undergrowth, following what he surmised was a little-used hunting trail.
