The Pellucid Effect: The World of Manx, #1

By N.W. Moors

Winner of the 2018 IndieB.R.A.G. medallion.

When the Cymrian refugee ship lands on the planet Manx, they find a peaceful people, the Manxi, already living there. The two different peoples live side by side for many annums, but the Cymrians are the only ones who gain powers from the pellucids in the Singing Caverns. 

Mic is a Manxi who dreads the idea of his Cymrian friend, Anais, gaining such powers he will not receive. He worries it will cause a rupture in their budding relationship. Anais is convinced Mic will be the first Manxi to receive pellucids but is it just a vain hope? 

Are the Singing Caverns sentient? Do they bestow powers when there is a need, and if so, will Mic and Anais use them to confront the enemy who invades Manx?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sunday Morning Publishing
• Release date: Jan 2, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386017080

N.W. Moors

N.W. Moors lives in Portland, Maine, the land of lobster and pine trees. She grew up in Connecticut and retired north(it's nice along the coast in winter). She's a voracious reader and avid traveler - she loves to visit Great Britain and Ireland. Researching trips meant that she tries to learn as much about the area as possible and listen to great Celtic music. She's also a knitter and hiker/walker with two cats(the cats don't walk). The Black Swans is a 2015 IndieB.R.A.G. Medallion Honoree, 2015 Wishing Shelf Independent Book Awards Finalist, and 2015 Shortlist for Drunken Druid Book Awards. The Pellucid Effect is a 2018 IndieB.R.A.G. Medallion Honoree She truly appreciates you sharing this adventure with her. She will continue to write about magic, love, and the small town of Antrim, Maine. Please leave reviews and like her Facebook page or follow her blog or twitter feed for further updates.  Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100009322893083 Twitter: https://twitter.com/AntrimCycle Website: http://antrimcycle.com/ She also writes Regency Romance under the name Jerusha Moors.

Book preview

Prologue

Aaz stood against the Mariola tree, his mud-covered form blending in with the mottled trunk of the tree. His arms ached from holding his bow in position, but his family needed food, and he would not falter now. He stared at the burrow of the munkpica under a fallen log, willing the black and brown head to stick out to sniff the air just one more time. Aaz held the arrow tip steady. The light from Second Sun was failing, and soon it would be too dark to see the animal in the gloom.

There was a slight movement, the pink tip of a nose just edging out of the hole, and Aaz readied himself. The creature wasn't huge, but it would season the stew pot and give the illusion of meat to his hungry family. His leather drawstring bag contained a few yash, stringy tubers that Aaz had dug out of the ground to add to the stew. Yash grew wild in the forest and was the primary food source for the people of Manx.

Suddenly, roaring filled the sky, and a flash of light beamed overhead. Aaz ducked his head, and the munkpica disappeared back into the safety of his burrow. He crouched, frozen, waiting for more noise or light. There was a massive crash as if the mountainside had fallen away. Aaz had seen a gigantic rockfall once, but this was louder and appeared to come from the desert that met the roots of the mountains.

He waited long heartbeats, but all was eerily silent. Eventually, the loopa birds started their chatter again, and Aaz slowly stood. He would not catch any animals for the pot today. The noise had sent them deep underground where they would stay until they deemed it safe to come out again. Once again tonight his family would have only thin soup made from the mosses that grew against the trees here on the bottom part of the mountain and the few yash he had found.

His belly growled, but Aaz ignored it. If nothing else, he would see what had made that sound so he could report back to the village. He did not think there was danger — nothing on Manx was perilous; no natural predators lived here — but Aaz knew the Sahma would want to know. They had undoubtedly heard the noise in the village.

At the bottom of the mountain, the trees cleared out, and the short grass that grew there became sparse and intermingled with the sparkling sands of the desert. Aaz’s people did not wander too far out into the desert. There was no water, and it was easy to become disoriented and never return. For the aged people in his tribe, it was the route they took to meet their loved ones again, but Aaz had only been a short way away from the band of trees that grew on the lower part of the mountains, and he was braver than most.

Once again, the beam of light swept toward him, and Aaz threw himself flat on the ground, breathing hard. It was like the light of First Sun when it first rose in the sky, bright and harsh in the air. Had the sun fallen to the ground of Manx?

He slit his eyes trying to see the source of the brightness, but it was useless. Then suddenly the light winked out. Aaz blinked furiously and tried to focus his vision once more. It amazed him to see a giant hill sitting out in the desert. It was much smaller than the mountains of his home, but it was rounder and sloped up, though the sides were very smooth. He tensed, wondering if he should retreat and bring the elder Sahma to view the miracle. Aaz did not have much standing in the tribe, having only nineteen annums of life granted him by the grace of Manx.

Before he could scuttle back, a large opening appeared in the hill's side, creating a path that hit the ground with a puff of crystalline dust. Six figures marched out the cave door, encased in hard shells and holding sticks, looking much like the giant Mehti beetles that lived in the woods around Aaz's village. Aaz watched in fascination as they lumbered across the packed sand. They paused as the one in front motioned, then lifted the shell at his top away. Underneath was the head of a man not that much different from Aaz. The coloring was dissimilar; this man had lustrous black hair and golden skin. His eyes were black also and tilted up at each end.

Aaz did not know what to do. Life on Manx was hard, but the dangers came from Manx itself. A sandstorm from the desert or a rock slide from the mountains could send a villager on an unexpected trek to find the ones who walked before. Sickness and hunger had reduced the number of people in the village, but it still contained many Manxi. There were no other people on Manx as far as he knew, but no one from his community had ever traveled very far. It was too hard to scale the mountains, and the desert made the other direction impassable.

The others in the small group also removed the shells from their heads. All had the same appearance as their leader. Aaz's people were very different. Their skin was pale, translucent white that never changed no matter how hot either of the suns grew during the day. He wore his hair long, tied back in a queue, but his hair, like all his people, was as gray as his eyes. He had slightly pointed ears, and his body was long and lean. All the people in his village were slender. There wasn't enough food for any fat to accumulate.

The man in the lead pointed his stick toward where he was lying and walked toward him. He seemed to divine that Aaz was hiding there.

Aaz didn't know whether to turn and run or wait to see what the stranger wanted with him. He wasn't used to deciding this sort of question. Steeling himself, he opted to rise and stand, waiting for the stranger to plod off the sand. The man got to about twenty paces away followed by the rest of the group and pointed the stick at him, tapping on the end. Aaz was nervous, but his mother had brought him up with good manners. He bowed, his hands together in front of him, and spoke formally, Welcome to Manx.

The stick buzzed and made some garbled noises as Aaz shifted on his feet, afraid but determined not to display his fear to the strangers.

The man tapped the stick again and said, Thank you. We come in peace.

The speech was stilted and the accent funny, but Aaz could recognize the words. Studying the group of people, he asked, Where did you come from?

The man pointed towards the sky which was quickly darkening as Second Sun passed below the horizon. Aaz didn't understand, but the man added, We come from another planet far way called Cymri. Wars forced my people to flee. The power in our ship is failing, and we landed here by default.

Aaz didn’t understand. He didn't know what a ship was or how people traveled from the sky. These were questions only the Sahma could answer. Still, he could welcome the strangers.

He pointed back through the trees. My village is there, but it will soon be dark, and all will be asleep. I will bring the Sahma and the other elders to meet with you in the morning at First Sun.

The leader glanced back at his group and nodded. We look forward to meeting your elders.

ONCE THEY RETURNED to the ship, Osiris removed his spacesuit as did the rest of the guard who had explored the outside with him. At least the short mission had accomplished one thing; they now knew they wouldn't need spacesuits to live on this planet. Manx was what the stranger had called it. He wondered how many people lived here. The planet would not support many with its current environment. He put the thought aside as Imelda entered the supply room where they stored the suits. She waited until the others exited the room and sat on the bench next to him.

Did you hear the conversation? he asked.

She nodded. Static broke it up, but we got most of it. What did you think of that guy?

Primitive, but that's what our readings indicated. It isn't as if we have any choice in the matter. We had to land here. The power cells are fading rapidly. He shrugged. This was the nearest planet we could reach in time where our bodies can acclimate easily.

Once the power fades, and the cells are all dead, we will live primitively as well. Imelda looked grim. There aren't many resources here for us to develop. We brought seed and some plantings and what livestock has survived, but it looks like we will end up as an agricultural society. There are no minerals to speak of, and most of the surface is a desert with this one mountain range cutting through it. She tilted her head. We didn't get a good look at the other side of this planet. Manx, as he called it, rotates slowly and it's possible that the back side has more resources and even people. Perhaps when we talk to the inhabitants tomorrow, we'll learn more.

It doesn't matter. This was our only choice. Our lives were forfeit on Cymri, and then that meteor shower pushed us off course. We were lucky to find even this place. Osiris threw his boots at the metal cabinet, frustrated at how things had ended up. He had not intended to lead his people to a new home so lacking in assets.

Imelda ruffled his hair, causing the short black strands to stick up in the air. Let's get something to eat, and we'll see what these elders have to say in the morning. She pulled him up off the bench. We'll figure it out.

Osiris just grunted, but he followed her out. He was ready for his dinner and a good night’s sleep. It had been a long journey to reach here.

THE FIRST SUN BROKE the horizon as Osiris noted the small group of people waiting just off where the sand ended. He gathered his guards, not bothering with suits this time, and walked down to greet them once the hatch had opened. The young man from yesterday had brought several older men and one old woman with him for the meeting.

He bowed to the elders in the same manner as the young man had the day before, wanting to show respect, and the other group returned the gesture.

My name is Osiris. We come from Cymri far beyond the stars, er, the suns, he corrected himself as he remembered the upper atmosphere was filled with dust that did not allow these people to see stars often. The two suns that shone in rotation barely compensated for breaking through the dust clouds, one reason for the lack of water and the desert conditions on the planet.

I am the Sahma of the Manxi. We welcome you to our land. Our resources are meager, but we will share what we have with you. Manx will provide.

Osiris felt a small frisson of relief go through him at her words. He knew that their weapons could overwhelm the innocent villagers quickly, but he would much rather live in peace with them. He and his people knew what it was to be hunted and murdered and he had no wish to exert that power on others.

Will you come into my ship and share a meal with us for now? We have much to discuss.

The elders followed Osiris into the ship. Even now the cells were fading to where the crew was using an emergency supply to light just a small portion of the vessel. Their technology wouldn’t help them for much longer.

It was good for them that the people of Manx were peaceful and generous to the newcomers, and the two groups found they had much in common as they shared ways to live in harmony together.

It was a few cycles later that Aaz led Osiris to the cavern system under the mountains and showed him the secret that would change the world of Manx forever.

Chapter 1

First Sun had only been up a short time, and Second Sun would climb from the horizon at any moment as Mic and his mother walked through the marketplace. Mic could tell his Maman was happy with the selections she had bought; she hummed as they walked along the cobblestones on the street to the Upper Town. The basket he carried was heavy, but Mic was fifteen cycles now, well on the path to manhood, and he didn't complain about the burden.

Micjo! a voice called. He turned to see Tanta Marita holding out a piece of leaturo, the sugared fruit that all the Manxi craved. For you, she cried and motioned for him to come take it from her.

He looked to his Maman who just smiled. Put the basket down here at my feet and collect your treat, she said. Be sure to thank Tanta.

Mic took the sticky treat with delight. Despite his Maman's tendency to still treat him as a young boy, he was almost grown, but he would enjoy the sticky sweetness of leaturo no matter how old he became. He remembered his manners and gave a little bow. Thank you, Tanta, he said.

Such a gentleman, my Micjo, Tanta said with a smile and a pat on his cheek. The girls will go wild for you in another cycle or so.

If he could have, Mic would have blushed, but his pale skin remained white, much the same as the rest of his people. Their skin stayed a constant pale color, and they were hairless except for the gray hair on their heads. He shuffled his feet though, nervous at the talk. The old lady was not his aunt by blood, but like all who lived in the Lower Town, the Manxi treated each other like family.

Come, Mic. I must get to work, his Maman called. He popped the leaturo into his mouth, savoring the sweet taste, then gave Tanta another quick bow and returned to retrieve his basket. Mic heaved it up and followed his mother up the winding road.

As the hill grew, he pretended to stagger, and he teased his Maman about the weight of her basket and the number of her purchases. Eventually, the stone houses of the Manxi stopped to give way to the more elaborate homes of the Cymrians. The Manxi lived simply in their small family groups, but the Cymrians lived communally according to their echelon, so their houses were more substantial even though they also lived plainly. No one on Manx took more than needed from the planet or each other.

From this height, Mic could look out and see the green plains and fields where they cultivated their food. The green robes of the Verdous Guild moved among the plants, tending to the crops. Some Manxi laborers also walked up and down rows, harvesting food ready for reaping.

Much farther away, the desert sands shone. Mic’s Paupa had told him stories of how long ago the desert had come right to the foot of the mountains, leaving only a thin strip of the forest where the people could hunt and look for food. It was the Cymrians who had converted the land, made it fertile for all the inhabitants of Manx to share in the bounty of plants and animals that flourished in the green landscape.

They reached the gates of the Lumini Guild where Mic attended classes, and his mother worked as a cook. Maman loved to create dishes that tempted the palate and enjoyed her work here. The daybreak and night meals were generally simple for the people of Manx, but Maman ensured that the guild members had hearty midday meals.  With a few spices and the plainest of ingredients, she could make food that had Paupa weep with pleasure and the other Mamans jealous of her skills.

Paupa was a mason. He cut stone from the mountain and shaped it into cobblestones for the streets, blocks for buildings, and other useful items. Occasionally, he would carve a stone he particularly liked into a decorative shape for Maman's kitchen garden, but he preferred the slabs that were the foundation of the town. He worked with the Cymrians of the Citrine Guild who did most of the fancier, more artistic designs.

At the doorway, they separated, Maman headed for the kitchens with his basket where she would labor until Second Sun was halfway across the sky, and Mic to the classrooms where his friends and teachers of the Lumini Guild waited. Mic was early, and only Patra Horus was waiting in the room arranging a stack of scrolls.

Good morrow, Patra Horus, Mic said as he went to his seat at the long table.

The Patra smiled kindly at him. "Good morrow