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    Vociferation: Resonance Trilogy, #2
    Vociferation: Resonance Trilogy, #2
    Vociferation: Resonance Trilogy, #2
    Ebook128 pages1 hour

    Vociferation: Resonance Trilogy, #2

    By Samantha Ricks

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    About this ebook

    Kitra and Bayn’s arrival in Erstwynd goes without a hitch. Through the city-state’s dress of snow and ice, they carve out a life for themselves different from the technological one they left in Favil. But this peace is short-lived; old fears come running back, and they find themselves in Madame Hilda’s crosshairs once more.

    Favil’s leader changes the course of her city-state when she realizes that a group of recruits can be used as expendable forces. While carrying out the missions given to them, Linnear and Hilsur find themselves at moralistic odds. Chetra is driven by her own goals.

    The divide between the Inyan threatens to tear the survivors apart, with no reconciliation in sight. 

    An unforeseen convergence leads to the beginning of war, and Neuria’s fate hangs in the balance.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherSamantha Ricks
    Release dateDec 21, 2016
    ISBN9781540176226
    Vociferation: Resonance Trilogy, #2

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      Book preview

      Vociferation - Samantha Ricks

      Chapter One

      Voices from below filtered up and entered slightly cracked windows. The bundle of covers on the bed, twisted into varying tangles, shifted and tossed in an effort to reach normalcy. A hand reached out from under the covers and ripped them off. Kitra covered her eyes with her free arm and turned over in a futile desire to go back to sleep. She could still hear the scattered chatter of the citizenry down below. A few gentle knocks made her sit up and rub her eyes.

      Kitra? Are you awake? The muffled voice traveled through treated wood. There was no keyhole. Kitra slid out of bed and adjusted her pajamas, gifted to her by the owner of the building where she and Bayn stayed. She opened the door and looked up at her partner, already dressed in his day clothes. The tailors did a good job, given Bayn’s height. A smile, tinged with worry at the edge, worked its way onto his face. Good morning.

      Kitra grinned and stepped back to allow him entry. She crossed her small room with quick steps and went to the dresser to pull out a set of clothes. They were residents of this building for a little over a month, and acclimating to their new surroundings after being on the run for months didn’t help matters much. They made repeated attempts to contact the Inyan aboard their airship, but to no avail. Kitra hesitated before pulling open another dresser.

      It was full of ribbons of various lengths and colors.

      Kitra rubbed at her neck. The wound had closed up months before, but the mark remained as a reminder for both her and Bayn. She stared at the items she used to wrap around her neck. Which one would you like to wear? the Vertaan asked, his arms folded behind his back.

      Kitra picked out a wide red ribbon and handed it to him. He smiled at her and nodded. She turned around and pulled up her hair, and waited. This daily ritual still unnerved her to a certain extent. Her collar, which once weighed so heavily around her neck, was long gone; the ribbons and sashes she wore upon first coming to Erstwynd were made from strips of her old Favilian outfit. Soon after receiving her first few sets of clothing, she burned the strips in the fireplace downstairs.

      Bayn tapped her shoulder. All done, he said. She turned the bow around in an attempt to make it seem like it fit in perfectly with her outfit for the day. What should I wear? she thought with furrowed brows. Erstwynd’s weather was cold enough to penetrate skin and bone, as well as make one feel as if they were about to enter coldsleep. The inhabitants wore thermal base layers under their regular clothing, and topped it off with button-down cloaks. Tight-fitting knit caps protected their heads, and long scarves covered the nose and mouth. During Kitra and Bayn’s arrival, the drop in temperature coupled with strong wind gusts was enough to force them to land near the entrance and carry their bikes in. The stone doors creaked open before them, and the two mustered up all the strength they could to find an inn. They fell ill soon after, and took a few weeks to fully recover. The inkeep, Bartholomew Claymont (who preferred to be called Bart) offered them a place to stay until they got on their feet, and kept their bikes stashed away in a storage room.

      Kitra pulled out a long sweater that ran down to her knees from a dresser installed into one of the walls. She shook it out, slung it over her shoulder, and searched the second drawer for complementary bottoms. Shoes were stashed in a small cubbyhole to the left of the dresser, repeatedly crammed in partitioned squares due to haste. She looked to Bayn, who took the hint and left the room. He closed the door behind him. Kitra knew he waited in front of the door, like a bodyguard so accustomed to their daily tasks. She dressed, and as a touch of finality, checked the bow around her neck once more in the mirror. She combed her hair with her fingers, unsure about the short length. Soon after they overcame their illness, she asked Bayn to cut her hair a little different than the usual style she wore in Favil.

      Her dark locks now ran down to her ear lobes. She thought it would be a hindrance in its previous length. With her hair laid to her satisfaction, she opened the door and tapped the middle of Bayn’s back. The Vertaan turned around and nodded. Ready to go? We have a lot of ground to cover today.

      Kitra nodded. At first, they only ventured out of their lodgings for food and clothing with Bart, and worked off their debt by maintaining the cleanliness of the building where they stayed. They never explored the town fully; Erstwynd was located in the middle of a mountain range, which served as the city-state’s armor, with areas hidden under snowcapped stone. People traveled on foot, but there were those who relied on cars and buggies that used steam as a form of fuel. Under each vehicle were two steam-filled tanks, one of which was a backup. Factories in the distance spewed white smoke that camouflaged itself against frosty air. There was only enough space on the sidewalks for individuals to walk; there were no areas for bikes.

      Vendors filled stacked business buildings to the brim, one on top of the other in order to achieve maximum visibility. Short glimpses here and there of Erstwynd was not enough to learn the main roads and hidden back streets.

      Kitra took out a lightweight metal scroll and opened it. A red light blinked, indicating their current location. She looked up at Bayn as if to ask, Where would you like to go? Her companion scratched at his ear and drew a line with his finger to map out a path. It ended up being a loop formed by the main road.

      Would this suffice?

      Kitra shrugged her shoulders. It didn’t matter much to her. She kept the map open and proceeded to walk with her partner by her side. When they stopped at the end of the first block, she cast her gaze upward at the slate-gray skies. She pulled her long coat tighter around her form in an attempt to retain whatever body heat she had left, and forced herself to move forward.

      * * *

      Chetra walked the hallways of the Academy with her arms folded. Her jaw was rigid. She wore a uniform different from before; under her maroon uniform jacket was a crisp white business shirt, and the lower half was a simple maroon skirt that ran down to a little past her knees. Black slip-on loafers protected her feet. Her hair was longer and out of their curls. Repeated efforts to straighten the mass was troublesome; the ends were stubborn to the point that they retained their curly structure soon after two or three runs of the straightening tool. Instead of pigtails, her hair rested in a tight braid away from her face.

      She heard chattering instructors. The Vertaan were all in the middle of the second half of their studies. They survived the first half—some with bruises, others with broken bones or torn ligaments. Their visages failed to display any hints of discomfort. Lyrvan skittered behind her, wringing his hands. His outfit varied only a bit from that of his brethren—it was all black with a few red stripes. Boots ran up to his knees and were laced snugly. However, his hair was cut raggedly. On his right cheek, just under his eye, was a scar that curved towards his ear.

      Chetra slowed to a stop and forced a smile on her face as one of the security staff members walked towards her. Good day to you, Vele, she said. Is everything well?

      The new recruit stopped short and stammered out a quick hello as he saluted her. Everything is well so far. I-I was just finishing my rounds. Is there anything you need? Chetra gave a sweet smile and shook her head. A-Alright. Have a good day, Miss Fauleena. Another hasty bow. With eyes averted he hurried to the nearest elevator, stepped in, and took it down.

      Chetra narrowed her eyes. What a weakling. She continued on towards the main elevator and took it down to the entrance hall on the ground floor. When she exited the building, she found Lyrvan panting by the door with it held open for her. Her eyes met his for only a moment; he averted his gaze and quieted down, reducing his hurried breathing to quick in-outs through his nose. She said nothing as she strode out. He hailed a carriage for her and as soon as Chetra stepped in, she told the driver where to go. The doors closed, and the vehicle was on its way to the Pavilion.

      As the driver took the main road to Madame Hilda’s quarters, Chetra stared out of the small window. Favil was as straight-laced as ever, with citizens going

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