Incorrigible: Secrets Past & Present - Part One / Entrapments (Staves of Warrant)

By Morgen Rich

Entrapments is Part 1 of 4 in Incorrigible, Book One of an epic science fantasy set in the Shifting Worlds Universe.

Even pacifists have their limits.

Being a partner in genocide is unimaginable for a peaceful, inept shape shifter like Grainne. But when her husband Slyxx holds her medieval homeland hostage for a seemingly worthless ransom she doesn't have, the inconceivable happens. Despite growing despair, Grainne can't let go of believing that survivors do exist, and it's up to her to find them. When she detects an error in translation of a set of mysterious scrolls penned by a missing order of priestesses, she resolves to find the women she believes can lead her to survivors.

What Grainne doesn't realize is that she already knows the missing priestesses, and some of them are working to stop her from uncovering a secret alliance threatening her world. Even worse, the key to saving her world is inside of her, and someone will stop at nothing to have it. Grainne is about to learn just how naïve she really is when she discovers the stars aren't what she thought they were . . . and neither is she.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Morgen Rich
• Release date: Jun 12, 2013
• ISBN: 9780989210218

Morgen Rich

Morgen Rich grew up in the southwestern U.S., where the sky reminds humans just how small they really are. Staring up at a sky stretching into forever prompted her to wonder what was there, and thus, her writing career in speculative fiction began. She's taught English, American Literature, Women's Studies, and Communications and still dips her toes into teaching a course now and again because she loves to see the excitement of students exploring imaginary worlds. She lives mostly in Pennsylvania with her husband and two Great Pyrenees, Bianca and Tahoe. On occasion, she lives in Lincoln, England.Her current project is a speculative fiction series that begins with Incorrigible: Secrets Past & Present. Incorrigible is Book One of The Staves of Warrant, a trilogy set in the Shifting Worlds Universe. Books Two (Discordant: Kin Foreign & Familiar) and Three (Seditious: Promises Broken & Bound) will be available in Fall 2013 and early 2014.Get to know Morgen on Twitter, Facebook, Google +, or on her blog/website (Worlds Enough and Time) at www.MorgenRich.com

Book preview

Incorrigible: Secrets Past & Present

The Staves of Warrant Book One

Part One / Entrapments

Morgen Rich

Bookmite Press

Pennsylvania

www.bookmitepress.com

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, places, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook 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 Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Copyright © 2013. Morgen Rich. All rights reserved.

Published by Bookmite Press.

ebook ISBN 978-0-9892102-0-1

Smashwords Edition.

Cover design by Derek Murphy of Creativindie Covers

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Dedicated to Clyde and Craig

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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

In another place and time, Richard Migliore said, When you most need help, it will come to you in surprising ways through amazing people. Trust and cherish that. It has, and I do.

Without Julie Hill and the amazing team at Hodgson Elkington, I never would have had a room with a view. What an inspiring one it has been.

To the staff and roleplayers of Incorrigible, your imaginations taught me how to stretch the limits of my own. Thank you for working unselfishly and for joining in to play. I hope you’ll enjoy this Incorrigible as much as I enjoyed roleplaying with you in the game.

Fenton Moore believed in me before the first word was written. Your gentle guidance and unwavering support have sustained me through real and imaginary crises, and you have earned my deep respect.

AineMari Murphy made me find my roots and my word—serendipity. Thank you for listening and for refusing to allow me to believe I wasn’t where I was meant to be.

Denise Opal and Roberta Noto have been ever bright and cheerful and kindly begged for More! Thank you for your confidence and interest in my story and for reading early versions of the novel in its entirety. But, more importantly, thank you for your friendship.

Author and tango enthusiast Gregory Lordi pushed me for drafts daily, insisting I could write a sentence without the words and and that. Greg, I can only say, "You were right. Thank you. You gently coaxed me to accept my worth, and I treasure your honor."

Julie Hill is the best teacher I know, freely sharing knowledge and expertise, taking me to task (and Ikea) when warranted. I love your heart, Julie, and I eagerly await your first book.

Tom Doyle, the big brother I never had. Thank you for sharing your angel, your energy, and your futon. Know Joy!

Jim Perna, thank you for sharing your space with the disabled and for letting me cook with you. You’re just plain GLEEful!

Ryuu, the sweetest virtual hugger ever, tested the serial pacing for me. Thank you for not being able to wait!

Deborah Rainwater initiated the building of my dream in Second Life and in First Life long before I ever thought about publishing a book. I love the Soul and Art you share every day. Go well, sister.

Thank you to my clan—Lisa, Chris, Kendra, Jocelyn, Drew, Damien, and Natalie—for supporting my efforts and encouraging me with your enthusiasm.

My husband Walt read drafts and courageously commented on multiple revisions, braving dagger looks to ask one simple question that made all the difference. Thank you.

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Table of Contents

Chapter One: Seetans

Chapter Two: Mothers and Daughters

Chapter Three: Disruptors

Chapter Four: Orphans

Chapter Five: Distractors

Chapter Six: Scribes

Chapter Seven: Weavers

Chapter Eight: Cats

Chapter Nine: Cats and Mice

Chapter Ten: Distance

Extras

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Chapter One

Seetans

Gráinne Roisin Ferrane MacKenna Seetan had never imagined killing. Neither had her mother, nor her mother’s mother, nor her grandmother’s mother. Ferrane females had built a legacy of preserving life, a legacy so tightly woven into their family fabric that it had become instinct. For Gráinne, daughter of Arianna of Alanna of Adama, killing was genetically inconceivable. That was why her familial instinct now felt defective. What it told her simply wasn’t possible. She had become lethal.

Gráinne fought for air as the foul odor of genocide wafted up to the slate courtyard of Vandovir Estate, filling her nostrils with the stench of burning hair and bone. You have to stop them, she coughed out.

As soon as you tell me where to find the Staves, replied her husband.

The scene unfolding across the channel in Gráinne’s homeland gripped her as tightly as the fingers of the hand she had curled over the stone railing to brace herself in a world that had turned surreal. Drifting smoke stung her eyes, but she couldn’t stop searching for escaping citizens. The glint of a sword caught her attention before it disappeared behind a puff of smoke. Through a break in the dense haze between her and the thatched roof cottages and brightly painted shoppes of the Old Village, a ragdoll-come-to-life-horror captured her stare: bodies with flailing arms and legs were being tossed like yesterday’s rubbish into burning heaps. She couldn’t form a thought that made any sense.

Look at me. Slyxx Seetan growled as he grasped her chin and forced her face in his direction. This is your last chance.

She glared into his laurel green eyes, eyes that needed no light to enhance their shininess, for Slyxx’s eyes flashed with the passion of whatever conviction he held at any given moment. At this moment, his passion was for the Keeper’ Staves, and his eyes brimmed with a glimmer that matched the unyielding nature of the passion spawning it.

Gráinne swallowed, the dry lump in her throat scratching its way down. I do not know where they are. And what difference would it make to have them? The Staves have not protected the island. Can you not see they have no magic? She pointed down at the swarm of mercenary soldiers blossoming across the island like a river wild, flowing into winding lanes and empty courtyards, stone-paved roads and dirt paths. Stragglers smashed their way into algae-coated stone warehouses at the Docks of the Obdured and carried sacks and crates of goods back to their ship. The swarm surged in fits and broke off in streams to chase fleeing, child-laden women.

She jerked her chin out of his fingertips. What possible use could they be to you now? Your thugs have overrun the realm. Stop this!

A timber roof meeting a floor crashed in the distance, and Gráinne flinched.

Slyxx spoke calmly, but the passion of his conviction, like that in his eyes, still infused his words. You feign ignorance. You lived with the Order. You know their ways. Tell me where the priestesses keep the Staves, Gráinne. Tell me, and I will have the General call back her army.

"Nowhere. They belong to the citizens, and the Keepers place them outside the doors to the Temple. The Keepers are not priestesses. You know all of this. Why are you . . . ."

The Staves, Gráinne. The priestesses don’t leave them lying about outside the Temple. They don’t leave them at all.

His words made no sense to Gráinne, and she didn’t have time to argue with him. Citizens were dying. Then they are somewhere else, she said, and I will help you find them if you will just stop the soldiers. Please, Sly, please. Grasping his arm, she curled her nails into his leather coat.

Slyxx looked down at his wife’s slender fingers. "I want to believe you."

Her mind rushed through memories of her time with the Order but found nothing relating to the Keepers’ Staves. She could say the words convincingly. I am telling the truth. I swear it.

Slyxx cocked his head, the tips of his dark brown hair scrunching when they reached the top of his shoulder. If you took the Robe before you came here, that oath would prevail over all others. What you swear to after that would mean nothing to you, including the oath you swore when you became my wife. A priestess would never betray her own Order.

He was thinking, at least, and not demanding. Maybe she could tap into his reason. Please, just stop the soldiers, and we will discuss this civilly. Your father was a Keeper. Perhaps he left a note about the Stave’s whereabouts?

Slyxx’s gaze searched Gráinne’s, and she caught of spark of hope amid the shimmering green that could be so penetrating as to be intimidating. When he shook his head, the hope disappeared, as if it had been shaken out of his gaze.

"I want to believe you, but I would be a fool if I did. Even if you had no loyalty to the Order, you are who you are, and you will lie."

I have kept my oath. I have remained here as your wife. Have I not?

Slyxx looked down and clasped Gráinne’s wrist, squeezing. When she opened her hand, he pulled his arm free of her grasp but tightened his own. Wife? He laughed. "You are a Seetan only by verdict, Gráinne. You have made that clear. And though a MacKenna by your mother’s choosing, you will always be a Ferrane by birth. You will say or do anything to hang onto the throne, and running your merry chase will only be a waste of time I do not have. Because you are my wife, I will say this only once more. Tell me where to find the Staves."

I do not know! She let go of the railing and tried to pry his meaty fingers off her wrist.

Then, my love, your ignorance will set seal to the death warrants of any who have survived thus far. The massive male gestured delicately down at an island aflame but looked into his wife’s honey-brown, human eyes. He continued, but speaking over his shoulder, General, finish the task. Burn everything—buildings, fields . . . animals.

Gráinne waded through a fog of disbelief. I said I will help you find them. I promise.

Slyxx wheeled around to the mercenary officer standing behind him.

Peering around Slyxx, Gráinne spied the General. From head to toe, nothing about the mercenary officer flowed smoothly. Her height gave the impression of stunted growth, as if she’d been shrunken in youth like a wet skin left to dry under a sweltering sun. The top of the General’s head barely stretched up to Slyxx’s waist. The Commander’s snow-white hair, greasy and mussed, contrasted sharply with her flawless complexion and tailored black uniform.

The officer looked up at Slyxx.

Slyxx’s voice resounded with authority. Before they burn the rest of the buildings, have your men search for the Staves one more time.

The General gave a slow nod.

"And General, they must remain intact. No missing jewels."

Why is he saying that? He knows the Keepers’ Staves have no jewels in them. None of this makes any sense. Her tone desperate and shaky, her words awkward with confusion, Gráinne called out to the officer, No! Please, General. This is unnecessary. Surely, we can strike a bargain.

The short officer leaned enough to see around Slyxx’s midriff. She locked gazes with Gráinne.

At first, the pitch black orbs staring back at Gráinne appeared barren and lifeless. A fraction of a second before the General clucked her tongue and then spoke, Gráinne knew otherwise. Shards of bitterness and hatred bristled in the mercenary’s eyes and then slunk back into hiding behind a flat stare.

Like mother, like daughter, the General huffed, beggars dressed as queens. She broke eye contact and gave a clipped nod of affirmation to Slyxx. As we agreed, Marquis. She pivoted crisply and headed toward the castle’s gate. With a marked limp marring an otherwise perfect military stride, the Commander tramped past guards who fell silently into line behind her.

You planned this! You brought them here! For sticks? Gráinne jerked her wrist out of Slyxx’s clenched hand.

Slyxx’s voice floated toward Gráinne, whose gaze still followed the officer rounding the corner of the castle. Now, about your offer to cooperate . . . .

Noooooooooo! Her nails slashed through the air toward Slyxx’s laurel eyes just before her world went as black as the inky aura permeating the air around the General, an aura that was about to reach out, clutch, and draw everyone and everything Gráinne loved into its murky wake.

***

When opaque unconsciousness submitted to awakening’s dim light, Gráinne opened her eyes. Her body protested movement. Even breathing hurt. As her surroundings came into focus, she recognized the pleated tapestry overhead as the drapery of her bed. They are dead, and it is my fault. Her outstretched right arm recoiled at a sudden sting, and then her ears captured the calm tones of an unfamiliar voice.

"I know it hurts, but you must let me clean it before