The Lost: The Sage Seed Chronicles, #5

The Lost

––––––––

By

Holly Barbo

Table of Contents

DESCRIPTION

Acknowledgements

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Appendix

About the Author

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The Lost

Book Five of the Sage Seed Chronicles

By Holly Barbo

Second Edition, 2016

Raow, the Lyrix, running through heavy snow

License Notes

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book 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 to the retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.

Text and inner illustrations copyright © 2016 Holly Barbo

Cover design copyright © JC Clarke

All rights reserved. Published by Paper Gold Publishing

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form of by any electronic or mechanical means, including information and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.

This is a work of fiction, names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

DESCRIPTION

Long-lost artifacts lure people from a lost population out on a secret quest. At the same time, an unexpectedly strong winter storm forces Erin to take refuge in an isolated cabin. Unbeknownst to her, this was the last known location of the missing items that Kai, one of the lost, is looking for.

Dismayed to find Erin at the cabin, he reacts in the only logical way: Kill any witnesses to protect his people.

With a ferocious blizzard ravaging the realm, will the sages be able to prevent bloodshed? And what would it take to avoid war with THE LOST ones?

The Lost is dedicated to those who impacted my life: parents, family and friends here and departed ... and those of you who raise my temper with your cruel rigidity in a world that needs reasonable compromise and kindness.

Acknowledgements

As this is the last book in this series, I would like to thank a few people who I haven’t had the opportunity to thank before: Maxine Lennon, who is the voice of the audiobook series. Cynthia, who has been an enthusiastic supporter of my writing and did some beta edits this time. My friend David, who was the basic template for Bast. Richard, who has been telling everyone he knows about these great books I’m reading. :) And to my niece Sara, who adores the books and was upset with me that this was the last of this story. Sara, a loved story never ends because it becomes a part of you. Thank you all. I couldn’t have done it without support like yours, lovely people.

Prologue

The Penal colony on Obsidian Island

Bure glared at the old man, his whole body vibrating with his effort to suppress his frustration and be civil. He wanted answers and would prefer not to beat them out of the coot. The guy was older than him but looked tough. How do you get out of this place? I’ve been all over this valley and I’ve not found even a crevice of a cave or a finger hold to scale the walls. You’ve been here awhile. Tell me!

The grey-haired fellow met Bure’s eyes with a calm confidence. "I’ve watched you. I know. We all search this valley when we first arrive until we come to the same conclusion. So son, tell me, what part of ‘Once you’re in Obsidian Island there is no getting out’ don’t you understand?"

He chuckled when he saw the flare of rage in Bure’s eyes. It’s true. There’s no exit. Look all you want. Let me tell you what you found: The walls of this crater are glass smooth and very hard so you can’t chip any climbing grips. The trees aren’t tall enough to reach the top if you climbed them. The stream that feeds this valley starts as an artesian spring in the small lake over there and exits in a seep at the west end of the basin. If it didn’t, this whole crater would be a lake with an island in the middle.

Bure’s growl interrupted the recitation. Yeah, well, what about that stone uplift? He gestured to the huge column of stone rising from the floor of the basin.

The veteran mused, It’s interesting, isn’t it? A former resident of this place had been a geologist. He said that before Obsidian became extinct it was trying to rebuild itself. That huge stone column is just as smooth and unscalable as all the other walls. It’s high enough that birds perched on the edge are beyond bow range, and even if you could get up there, you still would be out of reach of the outer walls.

Bure snarled.

The older man shook his head. It isn’t so bad a place when you accept the inevitable. You’ll see. There are resources to build a life here. We’ve all tried to escape and take revenge against those who sent us here but there’s no way out. He studied the fuming young man. So, what did you do? What laws did you break? My guess would be murder. He watched as the new man clenched his fists.

Now the seasoned inhabitant threw back his head and laughed deeply. Thought as much. I know the signs. I’ve been in this extinct volcano for nearly thirty years; killed a witch, I did. Murder is against the law on this world and one of the sure ways to end up here. The old man’s gravelly voice took on a harder edge. This crater is the exception, so don’t get ideas, son. I may be older than you but I’m fit and can defend myself. I can still kill you if you push me to it.

Bure’s scoff of disdain was cut short by an unnervingly strong hand around his throat. The older man laughed with a mad glee, "You’ve heard the phrase, ‘I brought you into this world and I can take you out’? It’s very true, son. I’m Kald ... your daddy. So nice of you to provide this little family reunion. Welcome to Obsidian Island."

Chapter 1

The Itch of Unanswered questions

Erin sat in her garden surrounded by the sculpted stone henge posts, enjoying the late October sun. She could hear the bees buzzing between the last flowers of the season. Beside her sat the bowl of prepared silk cocoons. Her fingers were busy with the task of unwinding the delicate threads and making soft, loose balls that she would later wash and drape in preparation for spinning and weaving. She had done the task so often she could do it without conscious thought. What her mind was busily working on was a snarl of another sort.

At the edge of the garden, Erin’s young skunk friend, Tempo, watched. Erin’s hair had regrown since she had hacked it off to disguise herself as a boy in an attempt to elude a murderer—and he could see her tucking the short ends behind her ear in an unconscious gesture. Something was bothering her.

Tempo ambled over with a feigned nonchalance that, if Erin had been paying attention, would have alerted her to his determination. He’d been busy digging a burrow. But now his focus was on Erin.

He stepped in front of his friend and did a rapid stomp with his front paws. The young woman looked up from her hands wondering what had caused the emphatic gesture.

I can almost see the gears in your head moving as you think, Tempo thought to her, What’s bothering you? And don’t tell me ‘it’s nothing.’

Erin smiled at the small creature and bent to brush the dirt from his coat. I keep thinking about the little henge replicas we found when we were caught out in the open prairie during that storm. The lightning was fierce and the thunder deafening. She stroked her hand down his back at the memory. The air was so charged with static electricity that your coat was standing on end.

Tempo’s voice in her head had a wry tone. You didn’t see yourself. You also looked a bit like a puffball.

Erin laughed. I suppose I did. How, by the Ancients, had those pieces gotten to that spot in the middle of the prairie? That’s the first thing that bothers me. She picked up another small cocoon. We left hurriedly in case the storm came back and took only the small replicas. Then there was that rusted box they’d been in. The Great One retrieved it, but I can’t get it out of my mind.

Tempo cocked his head as he thought over what Erin had said. Didn’t Gyan tell you he would look into it and let you know what he discovered?

You’re right and I believe he will. He also warned me not to display them but to tuck them away safely. It just seems he knows something he isn’t sharing. I’ll put that aside for the moment. He’s the Great One, and if he decided not to share information, he has his reasons. I trust Gyan will inform me if necessary. She shrugged. But I still can’t quite let it go. My intuition tells me there are other sets and they will be found soon. Erin rubbed her forehead. My clairvoyance antennae have been tingling about those fascinating pieces. For some reason, I think Roos will find the others, but that won’t be the end of it. She shook her head. I’m convinced right down to the depths of my sage skills, there’s something very troubling about how those pieces became buried in the prairie. There’s more to the story, which we haven’t come close to touching. When we do, it’ll rock the way we look at things. The unknowns are very unsettling, but it does no good to push my clairvoyance for answers.

Erin finished another small ball of silk before leaning forward and stroking Tempo’s striped back again. I wish I could get this antsy feeling out of my head. It’s like an itch that doesn’t quite go away, and the lack of answers is irritating. Oh well, I plan on leaving in a few weeks. We’ll be early, but I can hardly wait to discuss some of this with Ree. She’s such a wise woman. Perhaps she’ll be able to shed some light on the mystery. Erin smiled. How’s your burrow coming?

Tempo did a set of rapid stomps. It’s finished. I’ve dug a couple of rooms and a back door. The only task left is to bring in some dried grass and those weaving and thread remnants you gave me for the bed. I put stashes of nuts in the store room off the main tunnel and made it as pleasing as I could. I hope Silk likes me and the home I’ve made for us. I’m getting restless to meet her, but I want you to know I’ll help you if it comes to that. We’ve solved puzzles before. Now is not the time for you to stop sharing your thoughts with me. He gave one final emphatic slap of his front paws with a tiny jump back. After all, I plan to stick near you, my friend. That’s one reason why I’ve made my lair so comfortable and appealing. I want Silk to come home with us. I know she has a burrow at Ree’s home and is most likely very fond of the dear old lady. I need to stack as many things as possible in my favor so she’ll wish to raise our family here. He looked up into Erin’s face and gave a slow blink that was his wink.

Chapter 2

Wisps of clairvoyance

Ree picked up the small towel she had been wiping the jars with and dabbed at the moisture that had gathered at her temples. Placing it back on the counter, she set the last crocks of preserves to cool, then stepped into her pantry and surveyed the full shelves. She had done all she could do in preparation for winter. Her garden was harvested and she’d combed the woods from Yerra to Terresville for wild berries and edible tubers. The root cellar was brimming, as was her pantry, and her still-room was fragrant with drying herbs.

She absently tucked a grey strand back into the braid that wound around her head in a coronet. It seemed that, since reaching her five hundred and fiftieth year, her clairvoyant impressions had increased, but the ability was still troublesome. It came in snatches of visions or feelings and alluded to ... things ... that were uncertain.

Ree shook her head as she stepped out the back door. It was a warm day for late October, but she was grateful for the prolonged fall as it had given her extra time to prepare. Butterflies were flitting amid the last of the late blooming plants, gathering what they needed. The eggs they had laid earlier had hatched and their young were preparing chrysalises in hidden, sheltered spots. Come spring, her garden would again be filled with their colorful fluttering wings. She sat on the bench placed against the sun-warmed wall just outside the door, letting the breeze wick away the sweat which had gathered from working at the stove for hours. Silk, the skunk, was prowling around the yard, restless. Ree watched the small animal investigate first this spot, then that, with her long claws that were so perfect for digging.

Without warning, Ree’s world turned cold. The flesh of her face and arms chilled with the bite of wind-blown ice. Snow mounded over the bush where she had just seen Silk. It drifted deeply across the flagstones as if it were reaching out to cover her. Frost formed on the wood under her hand, and the air had a frigid sting. The wind—which hadn’t been there a moment ago—whipped across the frozen bank, spinning ice crystals before it and slapping her skin. The bench teetered as she stood in a rush to get back inside, reaching behind her for the door. A movement at the corner of her vision caught her attention. Shifting in and out of the now howling wind was a shape of a Lyrix, his fur matted with snow and the ruff at the sides of his head coated with tiny icicles. Ree took a step toward the elusive wildcat, confident it was her lifelong friend, Raow. On the second step she staggered as her world shifted again. The icy chill was gone, the day was warm again and no evidence of snow could be seen—not even a wet spot was on the ground.

Ree abruptly sat down on the garden bench, taking a moment to adjust back to the reality of the warm afternoon. Silk was at the old woman’s side in a moment, her front paws resting against Ree’s legs. Are you all right? Was it another winter vision?

The wise woman leaned forward, reaching to brush the soft black and white stripe on the skunk’s back, her hand moving with a slight tremor. Yes, dear Silk, this one was rather vivid. It startled me. I saw everything snow-covered. It was so real, complete with the smell and chill. She shook herself and chuckled at her reaction as she rubbed the goose bumps off her arms. All I can assume is that it will be a hard winter. I’m prepared with food and firewood. I just finished the last of the preserved beets, and the shelves are full. We may become cabin-bound, but as Erin and Tempo will be here, we won’t be bored. Have you chosen a place to dig your den?

The skunk slipped back on all four feet and turned to look over her shoulder at the yard and woods she had been investigating. You had several of these visions and have told me of the winter coming. I’ve been thinking about that as I don’t want to be unable to visit and have been debating between two places. There’s a spot by that tree. The moss-covered rock beside it shelters a nice diggable area for an entrance. You also have a space in your rock garden that’s just the right size for a tunnel, so I could have a burrow under your living room floor.

Well, Silk, both sound like good choices to me. Why don’t you try digging a test hole in both places? Perhaps one will be too rocky or blocked. Ree paused as the memory of the vision washed over her and she shivered in the warm sun. Just make sure it’s roomy and deep enough to keep you warm, and have an emergency back door. It’s always a good idea to have another way out.

Silk studied her friend and the goose bumps that had come back on the woman’s arms. I think I’ll try your rock garden first, she said as she turned and ambled toward the corner of the cabin.

Ree watched as the fluffy creature began digging between two heathers. It wasn’t long until only the tip of the tail was visible amid the flying dirt and pebbles. Smiling, the old woman thought she had better get out the little brush that Silk liked. Her skunk friend would need considerable grooming after such determined digging.

She was rising from the bench when the Great One’s voice entered her head. Ree, is this a good time to talk?

She smiled while settling back down. She always enjoyed these brief chats with Gyan. This time is fine. I just finished my preserves for winter. What’s on your mind?

"I’ve been working on that suggestion you made about Marisily’s Sanctuary. You’re right. It’s been empty since her death some five hundred years ago. It’s a valuable treasure that the Ancients left us and should always be manned. With our sage count back up to full strength, there were some candidates available to take that spot. Now that Drune and Erin both have homes of their own, that meant that somebody would have to move. The sages are evenly dispersed around the realm so I needed to be careful not to upset the balance. I spoke to Glori in Morraton and Roos outside of Osily, as that area has more sages. Glori didn’t want to move but Roos was open to the idea. He’s selling his herd to a fellow rancher and will be changing guilds anyway, so the timing worked for him.

"Marisily was quite content keeping a low profile and didn’t mind traveling to Osily or Morraton with her weaving or dyes. She lived there full time until her sixth century, and I understand the solitude of the place fit her and her guild occupation well.

"Roos isn’t like that, so he’s building a place near the top of the bluff with a small workshop and barn. He’ll be able to tap into the geothermal and wind energy of the area. He hasn’t decided whether he’ll go into leather craft or pottery, but either will need greater space than Marisily’s cave provided. Also, the hologram that shields the cave from non-sage eyes is there to protect the place. He cannot run a business out of it and maintain its secret. Having a separate place that is a quick walk from Sanctuary was a good compromise. Roos has widened a deer trail into a road that starts closer to Osily and climbs to his cabin site. His new home will be complete