OuterSphere (The Rayne Trilogy #2)

By Quoleena Sbrocca

“It is the way of evolution,” Elias says, his words getting lost in the roar of the wind. “Two species of human cannot coexist. To believe so is to be naïve.” -OuterSphere

In book two of the Rayne Trilogy, Rayne discovers everything she knew about the world and the Ancients is a lie, and there are others who are just like her.

The master eagle carries her to an invisible surface in the sky, an illusion concealing a towering wall of stone. On the other side is the outersphere. The poisoned air in this land of destruction and decay makes her desperate to leave, but a distant shot from below forces her captive in a world that shouldn’t exist.

After witnessing a thing called murder, she encounters a species supposed to be extinct. It is in this scorched, desert world, void of the sun and rain, where she learns the source of her abilities and the malevolent purpose behind them.

It is also in the outersphere where she is forced to abandon everything she believes in, for the sake of survival. Refusing means the death of innocent life, and it is a choice she never dreamed she would ever have to make.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Quoleena Sbrocca
• Release date: May 10, 2019
• ISBN: 9780998010755

Quoleena Sbrocca

Quoleena Sbrocca (pronounced Kwo-LEE-nuh Suh-BROH-kuh) is a Denver native, lover of photography, and dreams of one day owning a horse. Though she is afraid of heights, if she were an animal, she would be an eagle.She has written two time travel/alternate history novels featuring Harriet Tubman and Jimmy Hoffa. Her Young Adult series, The Rayne Trilogy, is a B.R.A.G. Medallion honoree. Luminescence (The Rayne Trilogy #1) and SLIP both earned a Readers’ Favorite 5-star review.Quoleena has loved creative writing since she was a child. In 3rd grade, she won a scholastic award for her illustrated short story, “Little Girl Lost.” She wrote poetry and short stories during her guitar-playing college days in San Diego, all of which she keeps buried in a box of memories.Her favorite books to read tend to be in the days of horse-drawn carriages and noble courts. And she absolutely loves books set in worlds void of technology and unlike our own, with swords and magic and mystical creatures.

Book preview

1

Putrid. It’s the only word that suits what I smell and what I see. I want to believe this is a nightmare, because I know this can’t be real. Yet…somehow it is. Across the Great Mountains, beyond healing—beyond life—all which surrounds us is death. This isn’t a dream. It’s tangible, morbid, and mere meters beneath my feet.

Under the murky sky, rusted scraps of metal protrude through heaps of concrete and brick. Crumbling structures recede into the grimness of an ashen light. Tatters of ashen black rags hang through rectangular openings, hinting at a society which once was. Now it’s a slope of ruin and waste.

The master eagle lowers his flight, his dark wings appearing ominous in a world which shouldn’t exist. My grip tightens around his neck, and my eyes water with tears. I don’t know if it’s from anguish or the sting of toxic air.

He dives even lower, forcing me to gulp the rancidness. An acidic taste floods my mouth, and my stomach hardens from the threat of vomiting. Shielding my face with my palm, I bury my cheek in his back. I bunch my lips, forcing my breath through my nose in quick spurts.

When the wind of our flight stills, I peek through my fingers and find myself staring at an outstretched wing. I lower my hand and lean forward to see the ground below us. Now instead of the structures, there’s a vast, open land of nothingness, void of trees or any plant life. There’s only a rugged terrain of desolation.

How is any of this possible, Master Eagle?

I gag on the taste of the air, wondering why I bothered to speak the words. I haven’t asked a question he can answer.

Perhaps there are those who can.

We learn at Primary that our species healed the world—the whole world. All the realms of Earth learn the same, so I can’t believe such a thing is based on blind optimism. I can’t believe we learn lies.

The Capitolium is the hub of all knowledge in this realm, never challenged, never questioned. Perhaps it’s because no one has seen this. No one knows it exists.

Yet there must be someone who does.

As the scene seeps into my pores, I consider a fact. This place exists just beyond the Great Mountains, not some distant land beyond the limits of travel. Surely someone has seen this. If so, they must have reported it.

The Board. They must know about this…place. How can they not? The invisible wall in the sky suggests it. They are the only ones capable of creating such a thing. I don’t want to believe it, because if I’m right, it means they’ve kept it from us all.

A sentence forms on my lips. They’re the words my mater spoke mere hours ago: Never did I fathom the Board capable of harboring such a secret from society. What will she think when I tell her she was more right than she knew?

I shake my head and almost laugh at the implications but choke on the thick, ashen air instead. My throat spasms in a cough, and I force words from my throat. "Depart at once, Master Eagle. This is no place for us. We do not belong in this dead land. Coming here was a mistake."

In these moments, I have witnessed enough to supply a lifetime of horrid dreams. We’ve been here mere minutes and already the azure skies of life seem like a fanciful dream.

My words resound with a dull echo as he points his beak toward a sky as bleak as the rest of this world. I close my eyes in relief and imagine the changing greens, vivid reds, and deep oranges of an autumn which I hastily abandoned. For what? Answers. Why was I so anxious to leave on my own? I’m a fool to have done so.

I shudder knowing I would rather spend the rest of my days amongst the bitterness of my colony than wherever we are now. I find myself nostalgic for all those who despise me—even Jhonis. That dreadful night at the amphitheater is bliss compared to the scene below me.

As we climb higher, I embrace the tug of gravity. I secure the strap and peek over the feathery neck. I can’t tell if more structures lie ahead through the obscurity of darkness, or if it’s something else. The shift in the tone of the sky from charcoal to black is sudden, but as we soar farther and higher, I realize what I see isn’t the void of night or more fallen structures. It’s a single, towering mass—a barrier—and it stretches beyond what the dim light will allow me to see.

Though we climb even higher, it still looms in the distance. I search for the summit, but it extends higher than the ashen clouds. As we near it, I realize it’s a massive wall, and on the other side is the only world I believed to exist.

A fiery crack in the distance pierces the rasp of my breath. My heart pounds in my throat as I tighten my grip in reflex. The master eagle releases a shrill of a cry, and I bury my face in his back to muffle the sound. His wings flap with a fierceness I’ve never before witnessed. His beak dips to the ground, his head slack, his body rigid. We’re sinking—falling. Our speed is too great.

Master Eagle! I press my hands to his back, his wings, his neck—anything to bring him to alertness.

His wings stroke the sky with a strained flutter. The ground approaches too quickly in our awkward descent. I wrap my arms around his neck and brace myself for the impact. His body hits the ground with a resounding thud. Black smoke billows around us, seeping into my nose and my eyes.

I scream. It’s a mistake. The smoke fills my mouth, forcing its way to my throat. I gag on the taste of scorched Earth. My lungs spasm as I force sputtering coughs to rid them of the poison.

I plant my face onto his back. I inhale his scent, now smelling as bitter as the rest of this land. He ruffles his feathers, releasing a plume of the black dirt.

I toss my satchel aside and swing my leg over his back. My feet land onto a ground caked with grunge and decay. I shift my feet across broken bits and chards of materials too black to decipher.

Something sharp digs into my heel. I ignore it. The master eagle is in pain. I feel it now. I must help him. I need to help him. The sensation consumes me.

My hands and arms lift with their own intent and hover over his tail end. Above his left talon is a thick pool of liquid—his blood. My hands pause at the source, a tiny object embedded deep in his thigh. As my arms dance above him, my palms grow cold with an electric, magnetic pulse.

They grow even colder with a force which feels like a ball of energy. Something warm and hard smacks into my right palm. I lift a quivering hand to study it. It’s a small, metallic pellet, and it glistens with his blood. Something about it repulses me. I don’t know what it is, but I do sense something in it.

Evil.

Revulsion surges through me, and I send the object flying into the distance. I don’t see where it lands. I have no time to care. An overwhelming sense of weakness and pain calls to me. It’s a flooding of life.

I look down to see blood spilling from the master eagle’s wound. My hands and arms circle over the source, my fingers tense with purpose. I can almost feel his blood clotting to form a protective barrier and the sealing of the hole in his flesh. A downy tuft sprouts from his thigh, and I don’t lower my hands until he flaps his wings and stands to his feet, releasing a weary cry of relief.

He turns to me, his golden eyes dim and glistening. In this moment it occurs to me: never before have I heard of a medicum who healed a species other than human. I didn’t know it was possible. This isn’t the time to wonder. We must go.

The master eagle blinks, and I whisper, "Make haste to depart, Master Eagle. I do not know what just happened, but I do know we must go now."

As I reach for the satchel, the ground trembles beneath me. A sonorous rumbling sounds in the distance. It grows louder. Stronger. Fiercer.

Mingling with it is a long, desperate wail. Feathers brush against me as the master eagle nudges my arm, anxious for me to mount.

The sound repeats but this time from a second source. As the rumbling increases, I struggle to ignore the foreign noise and focus on the familiar cry. Somehow, amidst all this destruction, I hear the barking of canines.

The rumbling gets louder. The master eagle screeches, flapping his wings and causing polluted dust to engulf us. Two streams of light flicker in the billowing dirt. The fierce rumbling ceases, but my chest pounds from the resonating force of it. My feet are frozen. I can’t make myself move.

The master eagle sinks to the ground, tucking his legs underneath him. Something tells me to hide. I crouch behind him, ignoring my stinging eyes. Then I hear something else, and terror seizes my soul.

Bloody Monday, Capote! It’s bigger than I thought!

I told ya my gauge read two miles from when I shot the sucker down. And next time I tell ya I saw somethin’ in the sky, ya best be believin’ me.

Though their voices are hollow and echoing, they speak words. Ancient words.

The dim beams of light are steady now. Something creaks and grinds like metal on metal, then the crunching of debris, two loud slams, and the plodding of feet.

The dust begins to settle as two forms approach. One is much taller than the other. They walk over the terrain with a cumbersome stride. Both wear a dark, full-length body suit. The thick, stiff material looks as soiled as the rest of this place. The way it hangs off them looks like sacks on their frail bodies. They wear heavy-looking foot coverings, explaining their lumbering gait. In the odd light, I can’t tell whether their hands are pale or a grimy gray.

But their faces…

I press my hand to my mouth to stifle the sound of my panicked breath. I don’t know what they are, but I know they can’t be human.

Humans don’t have skin like this.

Tufts of what must be hair hang in limp, greasy wisps over faces which look as solid as stone. Identical faces. There’s a slight sheen about them, making them appear even more haunting. Yet, the skin is the least terrifying aspect.

Their nose is a mound of hardness, with a mesh-like opening where nostrils should be, and an oval, wiry grid in place of a mouth. My flesh crawls from the eerie sound of their hollow and distant alien breath.

But their eyes are the worst. They have no eyes. There are only vacant spaces of black. There’s no life in them, yet still—somehow—they see.

They stop a few meters in front of me. One of them turns toward the light and releases a high-pitched sound. It’s almost melodic, like a whistle. Then it utters more sounds—words.

Git over here, hounds.

Yelps and barks emit somewhere behind the lights. I hold my breath, struggling against my shuddering limbs to remain still as two canines appear next to the two alien figures. Their faces are muscular and their noses are stout. But their bodies…the sight makes me cringe with sympathy.

Their bellies are sunken, and their dingy, short-haired frames reveal each bone of their ribs. Thick foams of saliva hang on their snouts as their tongues dangle from their mouths. It’s only a matter of time before their starvation incites them to act. I have to do something.

That, indeed, is a big ol’ bird. Great Mother Sunday, Capote. Good shootin’!

"Damn straight good shootin’. Ain’t nobody got aim like I do."

Just don’t go off blabbin’. Ya got that, Capote? We ain’t sharin’ it with no one.

I don’t see how we gonna hide it, Hendrix. Can’t eat it all at once, and we ain’t got nowhere to keep the rest of it. Can’t leave it out here all exposed and whatnot.

Though the words they speak are simultaneously bizarre and terrifying, I understand them. These beings are not human, yet they speak some form of the Old Tongue of English. It’s obviously more foreign to them than it is to me.

Bloody Monday, Capote, I don’t know. How’s this even possible? There ain’t been no birds since my granddaddy was a boy.

Yo granddaddy never saw no bird.

If my granddaddy said he saw a bird, he saw a bird. Said it was from the other side, just like this big sucker is.

Well, you right about that. But it done hit the end of the road. Ain’t goin’ back.

Not unless the dead can fly! The creature releases a piercing cackle, but I force myself to remain still. Wonder why the stupid thing came here. Must know there ain’t no huntin’ to be had here—other than these useless hounds.

Don’t matter none why it came. I just know we get to eat it.

You hounds quit that yappin’!

They just want a piece’a freak-size bird meat is all, Hendrix. Hey, don’t worry, boys. Ya’ll be gettin’ some nice, juicy bones soon enough.

The canines see me. Even at this distance, in this light, it’s obvious their eyes are on me. The master eagle lifts his head and releases a fierce shriek.

Bloody Monday, Capote, it ain’t dead yet!

Fire and smoke, Hendrix, don’t see how the sucker’s still alive. It was a clean shot. And good crickety clack, what’s that god-awful sound it’s makin?

It’ll shut the hell up once you shoot it again. Do it!

I’ll silence it for good, alright.

The horror of their intentions is too much. I move.

Wait! Don’t!

Why the hell not?

Somethin’ else is out there.

Then I’ll shoot it too.

"Hold up. Look. Right there. Ya see? Somethin’s crouchin’ right behind it."

"More meat? We gone and struck gold, Hendrix!"

"Just shut up, would ya? It looks like…Great Mother Sunday, it is. It’s a person!"

What in the hell—

"Oh…hold on a sec. That ain’t just a person. That right there’s a female!"

A female? Can’t be.

My body shivers. Crouching is now pointless. I rise to my feet, my chest burning, head pounding.

The master eagle shrieks and flaps his wings, sending the debris in a swirl around us.

Whoa! Whoa. Shut them hounds up, Capote.

"Quiet, you two! Hendrix. That is a female. How’d one’a Red’s girls git out here?"

Can’t be one’a his. No way she escaped and then wandered way the hell out here.

You think she’s one’a them rats?

Them rats ain’t got no giant birds.

She ain’t got no ash mask either…I don’t think she’s from ’round here.

Looks like you got a brain in there. ’Course she ain’t from ’round here. She’s from across that wall. She came over it. On that thing.

Bloody Monday, you right, Hendrix.

’Course I am…So here’s what. That girl right there’s fresh meat. You best be gettin’ behind me, Capote, ’cause I saw ’er first.

But what about Red? You know the rules, Hendrix. No one gets first crack at wanderin’ strays ’cept him.

What Red don’t know…Besides. Ain’t been no strays since you was smaller than my—

Both of them silence. We all hear it. And feel it. The ground rumbles more quietly than before, but still I fear it. I know now what that noise brings. Soon there will be more creatures like these.

Well ya better hurry it up, ’cause ya hear that, Hendrix? They must’a heard the shot. They’re comin’. You ain’t got much time.

I won’t be needin’ much time.

The taller one lumbers toward me, its rigid face expressionless. But its voice. It’s the very essence of sinister.

Listen up good, Capote, ’cause I’ll soon as feast on your ugly, measly thigh meat like you ain’t never been no friend’a mine. If you breathe a word to anyone ’bout the fun I’m gonna have with this here fresh meat, I’ll handle you like I’m ’bout to handle her.

2

Its breath is rancid. Repulsive. It lingers at my nose. My flesh writhes each time it exhales. The only thing which smells worse than its breath is…all of it. It lifts a gnarled hand to my face, its finger stroking my cheek, and I shiver. The creature brushes the rough back of its human-like hand on my shoulder, its skin abrasive on the fabric of my garment.

My chest and shoulders heave from the force of my panicked breath. Its hollow wheezing grows louder. Sicker. More menacing. Its rough hand rests on my arm, and before I can do anything, it grabs me and pulls me to the ground. I scream and kick and thrash, anything to tear myself free.

Don’t fight it, girl, or I’ll make it worse!

I don’t know what it means to do, but I know it’s hateful. I sense it in each noxious flow of its breath.

Massive wings flap, sending up a cloud of dust. The creature groans and releases its grip. I slip my arm free and roll until I’m out of its reach. My breathing speeds, and I choke on the dust. I hunch my back and press my hands to my mouth, struggling to suppress the need to vomit.

The creature doesn’t yield. It stumbles to its feet and advances with menacing steps. Fierce squawks silence the noise of the distant rumbling as the master eagle flaps his wings and plants himself in front of me. He lowers his head and thrusts his beak into the black hole of an eye.

The creature releases a deafening cry and tries to retreat, but my comrade is too quick. He sends his beak into the second deep socket, then onto a solid cheek of metal. When it produces a dull thud, the master eagle seeks another target, the top of the head.

The creature screams with such curdling pain that I sink to my knees and press my hands to my ears. Yet I can’t stop myself from watching as tufts of human-like hair become wet with alien blood.

The master eagle doesn’t relent. He sinks his beak into its chest, and it slumps to the ground, writhing and struggling for breath. The master eagle stomps his claws on the body, pecking its hollow eyes until the creature lies still in a motionless heap.

He has killed for me. The scene sends a flood of acid to my mouth. I don’t try to stop the wave of heaves as I release the contents of my stomach to the ground.

Hounds, attack!

Yelps become barks. Fierce. Threatening. Through watery eyes I watch as the master eagle rushes to the second creature, tossing his massive wing at the long, narrow object it holds in its hands. The force from the mighty wing sends the object hurtling through the dim light.

"Hounds, kill."

The canines lurch at us, and I scream, "Salvē! Canines—Master Eagle, no!"

He flaps his wings and takes a few steps backwards until he stands at my side. The canines rest on their hinds and stare at me, tilting their heads in question.

"What’d you say to my hounds, you wench? You useless hounds, I said attack."

They don’t respond to the screeching voice. They watch me still. The rumbling is louder now. Soon more of these creatures will be here.

"I am no enemy of yours, Canines, nor is Master Eagle. I beg of you to give us the chance to flee. Do not allow this creature or its kind to pursue us. Please."

You some kinda crazy freak? What the hell kinda words you speakin’ to my—

The canines turn to face the creature, growls rising in their throats. With each step they take toward it, the creature retreats a few more. You wench put your dark magic on my hounds? You dead meat! Ain’t nowhere you can run or hide where we won’t find—

The canines give the creature no chance to finish. One lurches, then the other. "Canines, no. Chase it from us only."

One of them whimpers as they halt in their pursuit. The creature utters a confused squeak, its stony face directed at me. It grunts as if it intends to speak, but instead it turns and flees in a crazed dash toward the floating beams. The canines chase it, growling and barking until all three of them vanish into the light.

Then comes a curdling scream. It silences. I try to convince myself the escalating rumbling drowns the sound of its cries. But then I picture their sunken bellies, and I can’t lie to myself about what they just did. 

The ground trembles so much that I feel it on the soles of my feet, vibrating up my legs and into my chest. My heart pounds in my ears as I try to determine their direction. It’s useless. Fear overwhelms me, but I know that if we try to fly, the creatures will wield their object of evil again.

We have to run.

Master Eagle, this way!

I set my feet toward the wall—toward home. I run faster to force the thought of what will happen to us if they catch us. The master eagle runs in pace with me, flapping his wings and sending up a swirl of grit. His fleeing is clumsy, but he knows to fly is to risk harm.

The vibration is different this time. It’s much stronger. There must be more than two in pursuit of us. I may not be able to heal him again if another metal object sinks into his flesh. The creatures will give me no time.

He flaps his wings, slowing his pace so I can keep up with him. He jerks his head at me and squawks. He wants to carry me, and there’s no time to argue.

I thrust my hands forward and leap onto his back. He flaps his wings with such awkwardness that whisper, Fly if you must, Master Eagle, but stay low to the ground.

He lifts us a few meters, but his stroke is jerky. We’re too low.

The path ahead somehow grows clearer and brighter. I can see the mounds of waste in our path as though the light comes from a source behind us. My hands steady me as I look over my shoulder. Dread washes over me, and I