The Red Place

By Aubrey Moore

"I rode on, faster, and faster, until Windstorm was soaring across the sand, far from the Red Place, far from the mountain—and the boy—I wanted to call home."

I am EnKarra, a Shuri, a half-blood, the last of my kind. I was a princess, until my parents were murdered in a silent war by the very man I now call Father. I am his soldier, his warrior, a trained killer. Every day I look out from my window to the mountain and to what we call the Red Place, the forbidden caves of the Mazam people. What will I discover hidden in the depths? War? Or...love?

Read the rest of the Red Butterfly series from Aubrey Moore:
Butterfly Red Sky (Book 1)
Red River Run (Book 2)
Red Fire Night (Book 3)
Deceit Red Liar (Book 4)
Red Fire Day (Book 5)
Red Bell Ring (Book 6)

And Introducing a new heroine in Book 7, 8, & 9: COMING 2019
EnKarra - YA - Dystopian
The Red Place
The Red Wedding
The Red Sail

• Language: English
• Publisher: Aubrey Moore
• Release date: Jan 26, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463573808

Aubrey Moore

I was born to write. Since I was ten I sat on the stairs outside my grandparents' house and just...wrote! As a kid I'd write anything from romance to ghost adventures to "how to become a rock star."Every Friday and Saturday night-instead of going out with friends, I'd be writing. Didn't matter what-I just had to write! I was consumed-a hermit no doubt, but I couldn’t sleep or work on homework until I had the next chapter or scene complete.I started writing screenplays when I was twelve. I literally have over two-hundred story ideas written in journals (either full/complete stories or just ideas). Someone asked me-where do you keep all them? Where I can access them the easiest-under my bed in a massively large bin...The Red Butterfly series came to me when I was sixteen. I wrote a screenplay about a girl who had "special powers" and could see ghosts. When I decided to evolve my characters and create a novel based off the story I quickly realized-Maya Colebrook's character needed to live on through multiple books. Thus where the six-book series came in.Among the Red Butterfly series I have also been working on a Young Adult fantasy series in which a heroine must go on a “quest.” She too has “special powers.” These books will take place in a world not like Earth.During this new adventure of mine, I’ve also started a publishing company, RipplEffect Books, in which I encourage young writers (16-22) to...write! The “ripple effect” notion is just as I intend to use it for-to help young writers establish themselves and to make their dreams come to life.2018: I'm currently 30 years old and reside in Nevada with my wonderful husband, wild and carefree daughters, & a couple pets. I look out onto my sanctuary and thank God every day that I am ALIVE and doing what I love.

Book preview

Part I

The Beginning

8 Years Later

Zagra

Warrior

Shessa

Badge of Lies

Bijou

To Be

Memory: Training

Red Team

A Bet

Future

Memory: Brothel

An Idea

A Proposal

Memory: Mazam

Ruins

The Sea

Cave Trolls

Part II

A Familiar Enemy

Prisoners

Wounded

A Decision

Trial

Daughter of Garrin

Run

Sandstorm

Bre

Mazam Training

What Could Be

Exploring

A Need

Uten

Give In

Lightning Bugs

Confusion

The Waterfall

Rhythm

Goodbye

Welcome Home

Death Dealer

Read All of the Red Butterfly series

Note from Aubrey Moore

Connect with Aubrey Moore

About Aubrey Moore

What the Fans are Saying

Acknowledgements

To all girls and women: choose to fight

Prologue

Welcome home, little rabbit. You belong to me now.

Ash to young EnKarra; The Red Place

PART I

The Beginning

Blue lightning struck the white desert sand; thunder rolled across the sky. Summer brought these storms too often. As badly as we begged the heavens to bring us nourishment to our crops and livestock, it hadn’t rained in a year.

Mother and Father were in the feather bed next to me, yet I still felt too far away from them. I hated the thunder’s roar. I pictured giants crossing the desertscape to get to me, as if each rumble was a footstep, and they were getting closer. I often woke from a nightmare, fearful of what was coming for us.

I turned over and hid deeper into my blanket. The small tent was becoming my enemy. We had lived in it, the three of us, for too long. I was tired of hiding and I just wanted my old bed back.

King Ragnor was on the move, his army at our heels. We, the Freelanders, wanted nothing more than to be liberated from his control. Father said no man should determine the way we live our lives.

We were the hunted race, the outlaws, the abominations. All because we loved. The Mazam: the cave people, and the Harran: the desert people, living under one roof. Forbidden in King Ragnor’s world.

If only he could see the happiness that came from our world, he too would be the same.

Father said he never would see the light, that hatred consumed him. He was full-blooded Harran and despised the Mazam. Because of this hatred there was now a line in the sand between the two races. If Mazam were caught entering Harran, the Zagra police would arrest and execute, no questions asked.

I couldn’t comprehend how someone could have so much hate toward others. Mother said because I was only eight years old, there was no way I could understand such a thing. I was too little, too inexperienced. Yet I had grown up my whole life in hiding who I was. How could I not understand?

Father awoke abruptly, sweat running down his bare back and forearms as he sat up. When he realized Mother and I were all right he rubbed his forehead and ran his fingers through his long black hair, then through his trimmed beard. He sighed, looking down to me, realizing I was awake. He threw the blanket off his body and took several deep breaths.

He often woke like this, I know, because I too frequently woke with a bad dream. I never told him I also had nightmares.

I watched him for a moment as he calmed down. I observed his tattooed back each time, studying the lines, remembering how it all went. I’d catch Mother at night running her fingers along the outside circle line, summoning him to sleep.

He never told me what the tattoo was; he just said he was forced to get it as a child. Mother fed my curiosity and said it was a map of the old world, before it burned. There was another civilization of people who used machines and could fly in the sky, she said. They were a greedy society, who would kill each other for power. Father said Ragnor was just like the people from before. For five hundred years our people worked not to be like the old world, but Ragnor destroyed all of this.

His tattoo was a reminder of the world before, the one he and our ancestors fought to keep hidden from the others.

Father’s rough hand rubbed the hair from my face. I welcomed his warmness and snuggled in closer to him just as another thunder boom startled me.

Shh, my butterfly, you’re all right. I’m right here, he whispered as I grabbed tight to his hand. Come, EnKarra. He stood and put on his white tank-top shirt then carefully walked to his wooden sandals.

Outside, the full moon was just enough light for us to see where we were going. I followed him to the ledge of our hill, where we dangled our feet over and watched the blue lightning strike again. We could see for miles, the rocky, sandy terrain desolate.

In silence we marveled in the light show, until I looked up to my father’s blue, glowing eyes. He could see better than any Harran, his eyes used to the caves of the Mazam. They sparkled blue against the flashes in the distance. Goosebumps ran through me when his gaze met mine.

My falcon, Bijou, landed just a few feet from us. She looked over, her black and yellow eyes blinking as she turned to look out at the storm. She too was watching it with us.

Tell me a story, I whispered to Father.

He inched closer to me and put his arm around my body.

A story?

I nodded, yes.

I will tell you a story of my father.

My grandfather, Cohen, King of Arden, was generous, giving, peaceful, my father told me. He taught Arden the righteous way of living—together—the Mazam and Harran trading goods, even marrying if they wanted to.

Why was he killed? I asked, knowing this would be painful for him to answer. I needed to know what he kept hidden from me for so long.

He was killed by Ragnor because my father wanted peace. Ragnor wanted war with Mazam. He didn’t agree with my father’s ways of trading. Mazam has water, the crops, the livestock. Harran has nothing but sand.

Father, the rightful king of Arden, was stripped of his title after Ragnor killed my grandfather. Both Mazam men were thought to have been killed during the raid, but Father lived and escaped.

He was in hiding for over two years before he met my mother and the two fell in love, but their love was forbidden.

Father, a Mazam man; Mother, a Harran girl. The two were wed, and soon after, I came along. Now, eight years later, I was the hunted race.

A Shuri, half-blood. There were other children like me in our village, all of us fearful of what Ragnor would do if he ever found where we were hiding.

I’m sorry what happened to your family, I said, sadly.

Our family, he corrected. That is why I train you, my daughter. I want you to become a fierce warrior. One day you may have to fight, for one day you will be queen of these lands.

My stomach knotted. Queen?

I see the look on your face, he began, his brown beard glistening in the flashes of the storm. Do not be scared. You are a strong fighter already. You have your Harran mother’s fire, and your Mazam father’s strength inside you.

I curled up closer to him, appreciating the way he took care of us and his Freelander family who depended on him.

I saw you gazing at my tattoo again.

I began to tell him I wasn’t, when he stopped me.

It is alright. It is time you know the truth of the world before. You know they killed one another over land and power, but there were also good people who did good things. I hope you will one day learn to do the same.

I nodded and agreed.

My father had the same tattoo. It is a map, of the world before, where land used to be. Now, we are just a large island, surrounded by ocean. My father believed one day God would give us back some of those lands, so that our people would continue to prosper. However, I feared we would then just be as the world before.

Why did you get the tattoo then? I questioned.

My father forced me to have it tattooed. He wanted to remind me just how small we really are in the whole scheme of the universe. In case land was discovered somewhere else, he wanted us to stay humble. Good. Faithful.

Do you think there’s land out there, somewhere?

Possibly, my child. There are the sea pirates who wander in search of new lands. It may be in another lifetime before that ever occurs.

If you and your father had the tattoo, will I also have to?

I want you to forget the map, forget what you see on my back. Someday someone might use it against us. I will burn my back before I let that happen.

He sighed again.

Why is lightning blue? I asked, changing the subject. I could feel him getting upset with my constant questioning of what the future held. He didn’t want to think of the what if.

My father told me it is caused by the energy from the heaven’s. The earth feeds off that power. He swore he could feel the energy surge through his bones, making him stronger too.

I smiled and rested my head on his shoulder.

We sat in silence for a moment until I asked, What were you dreaming of tonight?

He sighed and flexed his muscles.

I dreamt of my father. I miss him.

What makes you so scared?

His fingers ran through my hair like he was combing it.

I have nightmares of his death. I was a young man when… he started. He didn’t have to finish—I knew the horrific way his father was murdered. I see his face, as if he’s warning me of something.

What do you think he’s trying to tell you?

He let my hair fall, then looked behind him, standing quickly. I jolted up and looked to where he was.

What— I started when he silenced me.

Smoke.

Then a girl’s scream made me jump. I could smell the smoke. Burning flesh.

Father rushed back into our tent. I stood in the doorway, indecision paralyzing me.

Sol! Wake up! He shook Mother awake. At first she was confused. Then she heard the screams. She threw the blanket off and reached for her shoes. Father had already gotten his gun and knife ready. He only had two bullets left as he looked through the chamber.

It’s him, isn’t it? Mother asked frantically, as she too reached for her Kabar knife.

Father didn’t have to respond; we all knew who was here.

Uten. Father spoke the man’s name we had just seen in the caves. He betrayed me.

No, he wouldn’t do something like that, Mother shook her head, disagreeing. We knew Ragnor might find us. Uten, he is your friend.

So was Ragnor at one point.

Mother shed a tear as they both continued to load their weapons into their side pouches. I too reached for mine, making sure to grab the knife Father had bought me at the Mazam marketplace.

Keep her safe, Father told Mother. Keep her hidden, and get to the cave—they’ll never know you’re there.

No, you must come with us! Mother begged him. You’re the king, they’ll kill you!

I have to protect my people. No matter the cost. If something happens to me, she is to be queen. He pointed to me. EnKarra, he stopped me. Remember to find the light in the darkness.

A group of men dressed in black clothing rushed into our tent, carrying torches. A flash of their Zagra Police pendant shone in the dim light.

Father threw his knife, hitting one in the head, killing him instantly. He retrieved it from the man’s skull and killed the next soldier.

Mother took my hand and we ran, leaving Father alone.

I could see the fire coming from the tents. Screams came from all around us. The Freelanders were being murdered.

We hid behind the rocks, out of sight of the soldiers, as we slowly made our way toward the hidden cave.

From ahead I could hear my friend Lore yelling for help. Mother fought hard with her conscience whether to go to her or not. She was the same age as me, her parents’ bodies lying dead in front of their tent.

We have to help her. I whispered.

Mother told me to stay where I was and ran to Lore, who was being attacked by a Zagra warrior.

Let her go! Mother stabbed the man from behind, and grabbed Lore’s hand. We didn’t stop running.

Mother’s brown eyes were heavy with fear as she threw me into the dark opening of the cave. Seconds later, before she and Lore could get in, a Zagra officer approached. He hadn’t seen me. I drew my knife, ready to strike. He was a Harran man; he wouldn’t see me in the dark.

Sol. The man called my mother by her name. His hair was pulled back into a bun. Is this your disgrace of a daughter? He pointed to Lore.

Leave us be, Raw. You were once my friend, remember?

Until you decided to sleep with the enemy. He whistled, and ten Zagra hustled over.

My mother and Lore were surrounded.

Take them to Ragnor. He’ll want to say hello. His devilish smile emitted.

Lore turned to look at me, her eyes glowing in the dark, as if she knew I was planning to come out. She shook her head no and grabbed my mother’s hand.

I could only watch as they took my mother and best friend away.

Soon the screams stopped and all that was left was sobbing and horses’ hooves pounding the sand. The Zagra ran their horses, Freelanders being dragged behind them, until they were killed.

When all was silent, I picked my way out of the cave to where they were holding everyone. They had separated the men and women on opposite sides.

A woman screamed for help in one of the tents; I could hear a man slapping her around. I snuck in the opening, holding my knife in the air. The woman, who I recognized as Talia, was shaking on the ground, her nightdress torn and exposing her almost-naked body. He was preparing himself for her, what my father had warned and trained me to never let happen to myself.

Quietly, I moved in behind him, inches away. Talia’s eyes widened, and the man, alerted to something behind him, turned around quickly, drawing his knife to kill me. Panicked, I hurled my knife, praying it would do damage, as Talia jumped up behind him.

The knife landed deep in his chest as Talia rushed near me, protecting me from the attacker, just as he lunged.

The man’s knife impaled her in the stomach.

No! I screamed.

The man fell backward, his hands red and clutching his mortal wound. The man was dead. My first kill.

It wasn’t what I imagined it being, or what father described it to feel like. I liked it, I wanted to kill him, I wanted him to die for what he was doing.

Talia and I sank to the floor, my hands stained with her blood as I tried to stop the bleeding. She touched my face, smearing her blood on me. EnKarra, you need to get to the cave. Please.

Why did you do that? I begged.

You are our last hope. The last of the Shuri. Our queen. Run, hide, don’t let them find you. Go, EnKarra. Go!

She pushed me, blood flowing from her wound too fast to save her.

Go. She took her last breath.

I silently cried, holding her hand. Why would she and Lore sacrifice themselves for me?

I left the tent as more screams rose from our camp where Ragnor was holding his prisoners. These screams weren’t from the women, they were from the men.

I looked down below, watching as the Zagra slit the throats of all the women and children, forcing the men to watch their families bleed out in front of them. He left my mother and Lore for last. The man Mother called Raw stood behind her, holding her neck up.

I saw the tears running down my mother’s face.

A child? a man with short, blond hair said to Father. What a shame. He picked up Lore as if she weighed less than a bag of feathers. She cried, tears wetting her shirt.

Without a word, he held his knife at her throat. He turned Lore around so my father and mother could watch.

With a quick action, Lore was on the dirt, her body draining of life. My mother wept, trying to scream, but she couldn’t.

Why Ragnor? Why? she cried.

Ragnor. I studied his elongated face, memorizing the way his brown eyes glared down at my family. I could feel his hatred for my people pulsate from his body. It was the man we had been running from for too long, the man I would kill one day.

Why? Because you decided to leave your kind. It is forbidden for a Harran and Mazam to marry. Then you brought a child into your mess. He spit in front of Mother. Death is kind. I could easily have made you suffer in a jail cell for the rest of your life. You should be thanking me.

You bastard. You will rot in Hell for this. You will—

Slink.

I covered my mouth so they could not hear my cry.

My father dropped to his knees, crying, calling my mother’s name. Sol, he said one last time.

Ragnor got closer to my father and exposed the long blade on his sword.

You have no idea what you’ve just done. My father stood slowly, his face bloody. Chains bound his wrists.

You are all alone now, Garrin. Your family is dead. You knew this would happen one day and now you have to die knowing you killed your loved ones.

And you’ll have to live knowing you killed these innocent people.

Innocent? Ragnor laughed. None of you are innocent! You broke the law. Death is your punishment.

And what’s yours—for killing my father, overthrowing his reign? I am the rightful king, not you. Father took two steps forward, closer to his enemy.

I only did what was necessary for the greater good of our people. Your father wasn’t a leader. He had no real laws; he let the people govern themselves and did not punish those who went against him. He was weak. Ragnor took his sword and held it at my father’s heart. Just like you.

You’ve won. For now. Father stood up straighter, pressing against the blade, as if welcoming death. One day you will have to answer for what you’ve done here tonight.

We’ll see about that.

Before the blade impaled, my father caught sight of me above. Our eyes met, and I wanted to reach for him, help him, but I couldn’t.

Time slowed as the blade pierced his heart. Bijou squealed from the skies. As if the heavens opened, lightning struck in the distance and thunder roared. I held my hands over my ears to shield myself.

And then someone whispered to me.

Run, EnKarra. Run to the caves.

It was my father’s voice. Was I imagining his demand?

I took one last look at my father and mother’s bodies lying dead on the sand, and did as he said.

I ran.

8 Years Later

Zagra

My wrists were tied with rope as I dangled from the ceiling. I had been left here for hours, maybe even half a day, in a dark room by myself, the only light coming from a grate above me. I could not feel my fingers or my hands. Most of the blood had already drained downward through my body.

The room sat at the back of the Harran compound, behind the training facilities. I knew my way around the streets. As a little girl, I would count the steps it would take to get from Ragnor’s castle, to the marketplace, to the Zagra headquarters, and to the Red Wall that encompassed Harran’s village.

My wrists were raw from trying to break free of the tight rope; the more I tugged, the more swollen my wrists became, making it harder to get free.

While my body swung back and forth from my efforts to free myself, sweat beaded across my forehead. There was no wind today; instead, the desert heat radiated through the closed room, making it even hotter than outside.

I listened for anyone walking above. Silence.