Sierra

By Cy Bishop

Jaq, a bookish college student, was raised in a society of various religions with temples on every corner. She scoffs at all of them, focusing instead on her studies. But she's been having recurring nightmares about a little girl named Sierra, and when elements of those nightmares appear in reality, she seeks to understand why. Her world is shattered when she unknowingly fulfills an ancient prophecy from an underground religious group that follows what they claim to be the One True God, Deunai. As followers of the only religion that faces persecution, they expect her to lead them to a great warrior who will end their oppression.

The Observers, a secret religious society, fight to silence Jaq and discover the identity of the warrior. The followers of Deunai strive to keep Jaq hidden and safe, all the while looking to her for leadership. But Jaq isn’t entirely sure she’s ready to take on this new identity as someone of importance. She’s just an average college student; how could she possibly lead anyone?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cy Bishop
• Release date: Jan 23, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311224125

Cy Bishop

I enjoy life in the Pacific Northwest with my family and a constantly excited, thick-headed black lab. I obtained a degree in Counseling Psychology from Northwest University in Kirkland, WA, which I use to create fully dimensional characters with unique personalities and quirks. When not writing, I can usually be found reading, watching movies, or wasting entirely too much time on the internet.

Book preview

Sierra

by Cy Bishop

Copyright 2014 Cy Bishop

Smashwords Edition

With special thanks to:

God, my patient family, Google,

and Jessica Dodson for the fantastic cover

Chapter 1

Jacqueline Vega twisted in her sheets, caught up in the same nightmare that had plagued her for the last month. Her legs twitched as she moved in the dream. Except she wasn’t Jaq the boring college student here. She was a little girl named Sierra.

Her tunic bunched and caught on her leggings as she climbed from branch to branch, steadily moving upward, refusing to look back down. Multicolored armbands flapped around her. Family emblems tied to the branches of the old climbing tree as proof of how high each kid had climbed. Her own red armband, showing her as part of the Riglen family, had never been on the tree.

Today that would change.

The boys clustered below, calling up at her. Thomas, the older boy who sometimes was nice, seemed to be rooting for her to make it. She liked him. She wasn’t sure why he let smelly old Derek boss everyone around so much. Maybe if Thomas was in charge, she could play with the boys sometimes. Without having to prove herself.

That was why she climbed the tree now. She was six years younger than any other kid in the village, and twenty years younger than any other girl. With no one her age to play with, she tried to tag along with the boys. But Derek said she couldn’t keep up. Her pudgy cousin, Ricky, said she should just go bake cookies with the moms. Even smarty-pants Johnny with his crooked glasses on the end of his nose had declared that her smaller legs physically prevented her from doing all the same things they did.

But now she was going to prove them wrong.

Johnny and Derek tried to shout for her to come back down. Ricky had vanished. He probably ran away so he wouldn’t get in trouble if she got hurt. That’s why the others wanted her to come back. They didn’t want to get in trouble.

But she was determined to prove it this time. She could keep up. If they ran, she’d chase them. If they swam, she’d get her floating jacket and paddle after them. And if they climbed—

Her foot slipped. She gasped, but managed to clutch the branch above her before she fell. She took a few deep breaths. Momma said this tree wasn’t safe for six-year-olds. Maybe Momma had been right.

Come down already, Derek called up at her. Quit being dumb!

Sierra made a face and resumed climbing. Stupid Derek. She’d show him.

Her hand closed on a branch with a blue armband. The color of the Vetig family. Johnny’s armband. She slowed. Nothing but bare branches above this one. No more armbands. She’d already reached the highest one.

She grinned and sat down on the branch, wiggling her butt against the blue armband to get back at Johnny for being mean. He’d said it was too hard for a little girl to climb the tree, but she’d done it. She’d proved she was just as good as those stinky boys.

Sierra tugged her red armband free from her arm and tied it to the next branch up. She’d beaten them. They’d have to let her play now. She shifted her position to start the climb back down, but a glimmer of something on a higher branch turned her attention upwards once more. A green stone, almost see-through, sat on a branch above her. It had tiny scratches on its side.

And it was growing.

Her fingers tightened.

The scratches began to glow. Sierra stared, mesmerized as they lengthened before her eyes. They looked funny, almost like writing.

The whole tree shook. The little stone had grown into a giant boulder. It towered above her head, teetering on the thin branch.

Her throat got tight, but all she could do was stare in terror at the mass of stone hovering over her, threatening to fall.

It lurched forward.

She screamed and scrambled to climb down. Her foot slipped, and she couldn’t catch herself this time. Her body slammed into branch after branch as the rock crashed its way down behind her, eager to crush her into the ground below.

Jaq gasped as she bolted upright in bed. She trembled for a moment, sweat dripping from her brow, as she tried to calm herself. It was just the nightmare again. She didn’t even know why it still scared her.

She shook her head. It had been so vivid, she ached where her body had hit branches on the way down. No, not her body—Sierra’s.

The dream wouldn’t disturb her so much if it wasn’t for the fact that she saw it directly through Sierra’s eyes. It felt so real, almost as if it was a memory instead of a dream. She closed her eyes. It couldn’t be a memory. It just wasn’t possible.

She was sure of it.

A faint snore came from the other side of the small dorm room. Jaq glanced over at the tangle of blonde curls on the other bed. At least Helena was still getting a good night’s rest. Jaq honestly couldn’t remember the last time she’d been able to sleep through the night without the nightmare waking her up. She’d feel even worse if her issue disrupted her roommate’s sleep, as well.

She slid back down onto her pillow and closed her eyes. She’d never believed that dreams had any meaning. They were just random neurons firing while the brain took care of itself during the sleep cycle. But to have the same dream night after night for this long? There had to be some significance to it.

She just wished she could figure out what it was so it would go away.

* * *

Jaq fought a yawn and pulled her coat tighter around herself against the cold morning air. She stood on the compound’s light rail platform with the rest of her history class, waiting for the high-speed train to whisk them to the museum. The sun hid behind the sky’s usual gray, the light glowing through a layer of clouds that whispered of rain but only occasionally carried out those threats.

Everyone else clustered in groups, chattering on about the latest sporting event or who was dating whom and why that was such a bad idea. The sleepy compound behind them was only just beginning to stir with the younger-grade students and a few ambitious college students with early classes. Here at the light rail platform, the sprawling landscaping of the compound transitioned into one of the city’s many tourism districts. The heart of the city towered in the distance, metal skyscrapers dominating the skyline.

Helena’s laugh rattled the air beside Jaq, and she glanced up and pretended to have been paying attention. The collection of friendly girls and admiring boys orbiting Helena paid Jaq no notice. She tugged on her hair and reminded herself it was better that way. The way it should be. Helena was a Davela, a natural beauty raised in a culture that prized appearance and popularity. Her exotic looks, creamy skin, and luxurious blonde curls drew people to her, and her sweet nature and innocent charm kept them coming back.

Jaq, on the other hand, was too tall, too gangly, and had no figure to speak of. Her coarse black hair refused to cooperate, made worse by the short style she’d been forced to adopt after an incident in mechanics class a month ago. And her Cazael upbringing taught her that knowledge was far more important than appearance. She’d never used any beauty tools more complex than a hairbrush until she met Helena. Even then, Helena’s attempts to convert her had failed to make any lasting changes. You can throw paint on a stick, but it’s still just a stick.

Deanna and Lydia, Helena’s best friends, hovered on Helena’s other side. Also Davelas, they looked like they could be Helena’s sisters. Or clones. Three perfect girls in a row, like a trio of fashion dolls. Bobbing their heads in choreographed agreement with each other.

What do you think, Jaq? Helena asked. Aren’t the new curfew rules outrageous?

Jaq’s cheeks immediately flamed as all eyes turned on her. She was grateful her dark skin didn’t show blushes as easily as Helena’s did. Uh… sure. Why did Helena feel a need to call her out, to put the spotlight on her? She’d rather blend into the background, like she did in class. She knew her friend meant well, pushing her to be more social, but it just wasn’t her. Besides, it wasn’t like the others had any reason to care what she thought. She wasn’t anyone important.

Helena’s smile remained on her, waiting for more.

Jaq squirmed. Actually, I sort of understand. I mean, the library was vandalized—

Yeah, the new curfew’s totally lame. But hey, you guys are coming to the match tonight, right? Christopher interrupted, flashing a winning grin at the dream-doll trio. The conversation immediately shifted to some sports game Jaq had never quite understood.

She sighed. At least the attention was no longer on her. Yes, Helena meant well, but the others obviously had little patience for an outsider. And she was used to the role by now.

Helena was the first person Jaq had found, aside from her own family, who was completely at ease around her. Everyone else always seemed to be trying to figure her out, to work out where she fit in. She wasn’t a Davela, obviously, or a near-albino Gavuun. Her dark-chocolate skin ruled those out. Same for the southern-genteel Wuiens, whose skin tones never grew darker than a deep tan. Which only left Cazaels. She’d been adopted into a Cazael family when she was seven years old. People tended to assume she was a Cazael. But she and every Cazael she met knew at a glance that she wasn’t. No Cazaels had the caramel undertones of her skin or the coarseness of her hair.

A flash of memory flitted across her mind. Kids linking arms and marching away from her in the schoolyard. Eating lunch by herself as the Cazael kids whispered and giggled. Keeping their distance from the strange outsider who wasn’t like them.

Jaq exhaled and watched the swirls of her breath dissipate. Tugged on her hair again. She’d come to accept her place in the world long ago. As long as she kept her head down and her grades up, no one bothered her.

A loudly cleared throat silenced the prattling and drew everyone’s eyes to the front of the platform, where Professor Vonkaen gave the mass of students a severe look. I’m glad to see everyone on time for once. I hope you all remember that you are representatives of our compound while out in the city. I’m certain no one will do anything which might tarnish our school’s reputation for excellence.

He cast another severe glare across them before continuing. While there are many interesting and new exhibits in the museum, I expect that you will give special attention to the exhibits which correlate with our recent studies. I don’t suppose any of you remember what chapter five covered?

Jaq raised her hand.

Jarod.

The establishment of the Enforcers, sir, Jarod said.

Good. So what department of the museum would include an exhibit relating to that topic?

Jaq raised her hand.

Christopher, I don’t suppose you might enlighten us?

The muscular jock shrugged.

Very well, then. Eric.

Jaq pulled her coat tighter and glanced back at the track while Eric answered. How much longer before the light rail arrived?

Excellent, the professor said. And who can tell me the main topic of chapter six?

She didn’t bother raising her hand this time. She always did at first, partly out of habit and partly to make sure no one could accuse her of not trying. But the professors never gave her any more attention than the other students did. She wasn’t pretty or popular. She wasn’t from a rich family. She wasn’t one of the school’s ‘golden students,’ the wunderkinds who got perfect grades, were star athletes, led the compound’s top clubs, tutored the younger students, and looked like fashion models. She was just that stringy chick who was always near Helena.

Just Jaq.

The light rail whooshed up to the station with an almost inaudible hum. The professor frowned at it as if it had deliberately kept him from quizzing the class further, then waved a hand, dismissing them. As I said, pay attention. There may be a test tomorrow.

A collective groan rose from the crowd. The chatter resumed as they quickly loaded onto the train. Helena pulled Jaq along to the nearest bench. Deanna and Lydia plopped onto the bench facing them and set to griping about how unfair it was to already have another test when they’d just had one a month ago.

Jaq sat next to the window and looked out, waiting for the loading to finish and the train to start moving. A variety of businesses lined the street across from the compound. Most were convenience stores, cafes, and cheap restaurants, tempting students with fatty alternatives to the relatively bland diet supplied by the compound. Punctuating the garish sea of neon were dozens of temples. Just like everywhere else in the city, a temple rested on every corner, offering the opportunity to worship just about anything.

Movement caught her attention, and she looked down at the corner just opposite the station. A couple of Enforcers were talking to a man outside one of the temples.

Jaq’s heart skipped a beat, as it always did when she saw Enforcers. Any sign of their presence—the uniforms, the flashing lights, the blockades—made her nervous, even when she hadn’t done anything wrong. She had to remind herself that their presence had nothing to do with her. Still, she didn’t relax until the light rail slid forward, rapidly picking up speed.

The prattle around her blurred as much as the buildings whizzing past. She tried to hold back another yawn and failed. Stupid nightmare.

Her brain chewed on the problem like a tricky math equation. She’d had no change in diet or activity to blame the nightmare on. And the more she had it, the more sure she was that it had to have some meaning. And if she could just figure out that meaning, the nightmare would stop.

But what meaning could it have? Everything about it was unfamiliar. People who live in villages and wear tunics and leggings instead of jeans and t-shirts. And wearing armbands. And with no kids under the age of twelve, save Sierra. Her forays into the library records to seek out any culture similar to the one in her dream had turned up no results.

The part she didn’t want to admit, didn’t like to think about, was that while the setting was completely foreign, it felt bizarrely familiar. As if she’d been there before. As if it was home.

A thought tugged at the back of her mind. It wasn’t the first time it had done so in the last month, and she fought to shut it out every time.

What if she was Sierra?

As much as she tried to reject the thought as foolishness, her brain kept pointing out the logical possibility. She had no memories of her life before Mama and Papa, Maria and Antonio Vega, adopted her at the age of seven. The little girl in the dream was six. The timing fit. And with no memories of her earlier childhood to prove who she was before the adoption, how could she be sure this wasn’t some long-forgotten memory emerging from the subconscious?

The idea brought with it a tiny spark of hope that part of her clung to. If she was Sierra, then maybe there other people like her somewhere. Somewhere she belonged.

But the thought was ridiculous. If there really was a village today with people wearing ancient clothing styles and tying armbands to trees, there would be anthropological studies and articles and reports on them. Pictures. Documentation. She’d found no such thing.

No, the nightmare had to mean something else. Something symbolic. Her brain was telling her she shouldn’t try to fit in. Or she shouldn’t try to best others. Or to stay away from trees.

Jaq snorted. She was grasping at straws, and she knew it.

Helena leaned over. What’s up?

Jaq blinked, remembering the others around her. Deanna and Lydia stared, waiting for Helena to return her attention to them. Jaq’s cheeks flamed again. Sorry. I was just thinking.

So anyway, Lydia said, impatience in her tone, I was telling you about that dress I saw.

The blur of scenery gradually differentiated into buildings, cars, and people, marking their arrival at the museum. Jaq stood. We’re here.

The other three followed her off the light rail, jabbering and paying no attention to the impressive museum building stretching before them. Scrollwork added a flourish to the stones, and elegant pillars towered over the marble steps that led up to the massive glass doors.

Professor Vonkaen cleared his throat over the crowd, capturing their attention once more. We meet here to catch the light rail back at 2:30 sharp. Anyone who misses it will have to return to the compound at their own expense. With that, he gave a dismissive wave. The students surged into the building, and the discussions turned to excitement about what they planned to see inside.

Come on, Helena said as she pushed forward, catching Jaq’s arm along the way. Let’s check out the new exhibits.

* * *

Oh, look at that! Helena gasped, leaning closer to a cracked vase. She skittered over to the next display case, which showed a handful of ancient tools. And these! Can you imagine that people used to use stuff like that?

How do you think they held that one? Deanna giggled, pointing to one. She spun toward another display of artifacts. Ooh, check this out!

Jaq followed. She couldn’t help but feel amused by the girls’ hyperkinetic pace. You guys want to slow down a little? You aren’t even reading the information.

Helena opened her mouth to respond, but a large crowd in the next section captured her attention. What’s going on over there?

I want to see! Lydia said, scurrying past with Deanna right behind her.

Groaning, Jaq allowed Helena to drag her into the next room to join the crowd. The people were all packed together so tightly, she couldn’t even see what they were looking at.

A museum employee stationed beside the exhibit smiled at the mass of people. This artifact was found in an excavation near the city of Parae two weeks ago. These mysterious symbols are probably some ancient form of language, but it’s like no language modern scientists have ever seen before.

I can’t see! Lydia complained.

Come on, around this side, Helena said, tugging at her friends.

Jaq followed the other girls, still amused at their crazy pace. They’d get bored soon and spend the rest of the time in the gift shop. She’d walk through again after that so she could properly take in the exhibits.

Wow, Helena gasped.

Swallowing a yawn, Jaq craned her neck to see above her roommate’s head. The yawn caught in her throat when she saw what was on the platform.

A green, agate-like boulder. With scratches on one side.

Just like the one in her nightmare.

Chapter 2

Jaq stared. Blinked. Blinked again, harder this time. But nothing would make the rock disappear. It stubbornly remained in place, mocking her sanity with its presence.

This couldn’t be real.

Helena frowned at the display. What’s so important about that? It’s just some big rock.

Lydia shrugged. Want to check out the gift shop?

Sure. Come on, Jaq, Helena called after her as she followed Lydia and Deanna out of the room.

Jaq wanted to go with them. She’d live the rest of her life in the gift shop if it meant never looking at this thing again. But she couldn’t tear her gaze away.

This was impossible. There had to be some reasonable explanation. She craned her neck and moved a few steps to the right for a better view.

The scratches on the side of the rock began to glow.

A tiny whimper escaped her lips. She couldn’t move. This couldn’t be real. It had to be a dream.

As each symbol lit up, words flowed through her mind. Words that stubbornly clung to the symbols, as if related. As if giving meaning.

The attendant had said the symbols could be an ancient language. It was.

And she knew exactly what it meant.

Her whole body shook. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t the sort of thing that happened to normal people. This was the sort of thing that happened to people who got