Ley Riders

By Valerie D Kirkwood

The power of the ley lines is failing. Can Seeker Lauren from Aladon Prime and a Ninth Order Sarvon Adept, overcome their differences and find a solution to their societies' problems? A teenager hitchhiking on the leys compounds the difficulties.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Valerie D Kirkwood
• Release date: Dec 6, 2011
• ISBN: 9780987903105

Valerie D Kirkwood

Valerie Kirkwood lives in Eastern Ontario, Canada. She enjoys working with her draft horses, and is a nationally accredited Dressage Judge. She also enjoys choral singing and photography.

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LEY RIDERS

by

Valerie D. Kirkwood

SMASHWORDS EDITION

*****

Published by Valerie D. Kirkwood on Smashwords

Ley Riders

Copyright © 2011 by Valerie D. Kirkwood

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Ley Riders

Chapter One

Lauren thumbed open the tour book and tried her best to blend in with the people around her. Ley power lapped distractingly at her ankles. Oh, to reach out and gather it, channel it, and be shed of this place, these people. But not yet, not just yet. Too much hung in the balance, for her to risk acting prematurely.

The synthetic fabric of her sun dress itched annoyingly against the back of her neck. She longed for the caress of her favorite Syralli-silk kaftan. She would be out of this mess soon, back home amid the luxuries of Aladon Prime. That was assuming, of course, that things hadn’t become even worse at home than before she had left.

For now, though, she had to appear to be just an average tourist on this very average, non-space-faring planet. It had been the only way she could get access to this site, where there was enough power for her to ride the increasingly unstable leys, and get back home to file her unsettling report. She had to resist the urge to stand on one of the ley foci, to revel in the concentration of latent power, forbidden to her for more than half a year.

The tour group had visited three sets of ruins in as many hours. It frustrated her no end that none of the sight-seers understood the significance of the relics in front of them. They came from the same genetic stock, she and those who had built these structures. Sometime in the distant past, some of her people had traveled here, but the knowledge of how to use the ley power had been diluted, lost. More recently, Seekers had visited this place and others, testing the viability of the ley lines, trying to quantify the magnitude of their instability.

The tour guide didn’t seem to have more than a rote knowledge of his subject, either. He seemed much more interested in exploring the sights offered by two scantily clad girls who were giggling their way through the tour. They, and all the others, seemed oblivious to the ley power she could feel surging through the area like an incoming tide.

Neolithic, Medieval, Post-Atomic, the guide intoned in his professionally smooth voice, taking in the entire square with a sweep of one exquisitely tanned and muscled arm. The girls followed the move with come-hither eyes. Concentrated in this small area are three of the most remarkably preserved sets of abandoned structures this continent has to offer. A tilting stone circle, a crumbling church, and two shiny metallic parabolas, excavated into the stony soil and cupped to face the sky, crowded onto this rugged patch of ground, fringed by a copse of trees on one side, and a highway on the other.

Of course they're well-preserved, Lauren muttered. Then she looked around quickly to see if she had been overheard. A pre-adolescent boy looked at her inquisitively. She looked down at her tour book and mumbled through a few of the sentences written there, as though she was having difficulty with the language, laying on a heavy accent as she did so. The boy lost interest quickly.

The only other person who had been near enough to hear her was a tall, dark-haired man dressed in form-fitting black. Dark sun-glasses hid his eyes, but he appeared to be looking at the most recent of the ruins, not at her. Nevertheless, she resolved to be more careful. The tingle of latent power was interfering with her concentration. She couldn't afford to let anything slip; not until it was time. Not until the alignment was perfect.

The tour guide swung into his routine, doing his best to keep his listeners entertained. He gave a brief history of the structures, making light of the unorthodox theories underlying their construction. The two pert girls tittered obligingly in all the right places. Lauren had to bite her lower lip to keep from blurting out an indictment of the inadequacies of his recitation.

Sceptics, all of them! She had been told about these people, so tied up in technology that they wouldn't believe anything they couldn't touch or measure. These tourists and the guide were living examples of the phenomenon. The ruins offered a more tangible