The Sun and the Moon

By Nicole Palomino

First in the series that follows twins Luna and Sol as they find their place in a post apocalyptic world ran by power hungry militia. Luna is taken from their home and forced into a camp where she fears for her very life. Meanwhile Sol is left behind until he has the chance to help his sister.

A Guardian’s Tale Series
Book 1: Remnant Wars
Ari has been a warrior in a battle between her race and the remnant race for over 500 years. Driven by her own desire to avenge her sire and protect the mortal race from the underworld of supernatural beings she must find herself. She has always been accompanied by fellow guardians but when the council sends her on a secret mission she discovers the world of the remnants isn’t so black and white. Especially when she discovers mysterious pureblood turned remnant Keeper. Will she kill them all and return to her tower or will she choose to betray her own race. Adult Content

Book 2: The Remnant King
Book 3: Rise of the Ancients
Book 4: The Remnant Queen

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Nov 7, 2014
• ISBN: 9781312660489

Book preview

The Sun and the Moon

The Sun and the Moon

By Nicole Palomino

For Leeann, no words can express how thankful I am for everything you’ve ever done.

Prologue

When I was a child, my brother and I would visit with our grandmother.  She would sit us down on the floor of her little house and tell us stories about the old world.  Stories about structures so elevated they almost touched the sky, of food being thrown away and wasted daily by millions of people, and stories of medicines being handed out like candy.  She did admit that there were parts of the world where not everyone had enough, but our own old country had the most, or so she told us.

Then she would tell us about the wars.  She said she no one remembered who started it, but that she had heard legends about bombs that sucked all the oxygen out of the air and made the old cities so toxic that even today, no one could live there.  She said that there was a great winter were it snowed ash and blocked out the sun for almost four years.

Sol and I would ask questions about our history.  Sol asked things like, How was the military started?  My grandmother told us that the military was not the same as the old days.  She told us that it was a volunteer army meant to ensure democracy and freedom all over the world.  Not like our military that was known for their brutality, not just toward the women of our time, but the leaders were known for the poor treatment of their own men.

She told us that our own military was created after the few remaining political leaders divided our country and Mexico into ten territories.  Each territory had its own general, which functioned as the supreme leader of that territory.  The evils of today’s camps were slowly incorporated.  My grandmother told me that our people were once so proud and strong that if it had not happened too quickly, our people would have fought back.

I would sit and wait for the story of my mother and father, which I loved to hear.  My grandmother always saved that story for last as she knew it was my own favorite.  She would clear her throat, and I would ignore my brother as he rolled his eyes repeatedly throughout the story.  As fortune would have it, this story is actually the beginning of our own story.

Sarah, my grandmother spoke tenderly about my mother.  She was a clever and stunning child, and I knew it. She would smile at me and ignore Sol as he made a snoring sound.  Back in those days when the collectors came to town to take our young men and women, we would take the girls who were of age but not married or with children and dress them a certain way.  We would dress them in the most undesirable clothing, and they would not bathe for many weeks.

I would close my eyes and try to imagine our young women covered in mud and made as naturally unattractive as possible.  My grandmother continued, On the day that the collectors came with the captains, I smeared a little mud on her cheeks, and we knelt and prayed, and when we heard the school bells, we left our homes and watched as the children were lined up and judged.

The collector was a immense man, petrifying to look at, and rightfully so, as he took many of our children, and when it came to the girls, you could see the desire in his fierce eyes.  He had a unique old world accent that a couple of the villages had in our territory.  I opened my eyes, not wanting to envision the sinister man and listened as she continued.

He took twelve of our boys and executed one that he suspected was not of good breeding.  My grandmother always looked sad when she mentioned the boy.  She taught Sol and me that a man is not a race, he is his deeds.  Then he went on to the girls, and of course, Sarah was selected.  My poor Sarah, she looked sad but continued.  She was terrified as any woman who is collected should be.

The collector called out asking if anyone would pay a tithe for the collected people.  Of course, she spoke softly, a wealthy person could always buy back their own kin, but I was a widow by that time, and the money I did have was barely enough to feed us both.  Fate had other plans for my little girl.

Out of the army rode a man who was tall and very handsome. He was distinctive in appearance, clearly not from our region.  He was in his mid-twenties and your mother was nineteen, so they were a good age difference, not that I would have cared if he was older or younger because he saved my little girl.  He did something I had never seen done before.  He dismounted his horse and stood towering over her and offered to pay her tithe.

Yeah, yeah, and they lived happily ever after, my brother interrupted her

She smiled, not minding, and continued, He didn’t have enough money to pay her tithe, so he did what any officer could do and enlisted as a volunteer for an extra year of service.  He spent his leave time here with Sarah, and after a week of riding his great horse and him showering her with gifts and her enjoying his company, they were married and spent a night together as husband and wife.

Then there were twins who haven’t been born in our village since the purge, and we were a miracle because our mother survived giving birth to us, Sol completed the saga for her.   

He left out the part about how little and sick he was.  The town considered him the miracle, not me.  He was the beloved one by many of the young girls in our village.  He was very small when he was born and barely survived his first three years.  He never really got very tall or strong looking, but he was smart and fast, making him a good hunter during the winter months.

We also looked like our father or so I was told, having the same brilliantly different auburn hair that no one else in our village had.  Our green eyes also had speckles of gold in them that were also gifts from our father.

No, I replied, not trying to hide my irritation.  First, he bought us a little house, then she had us, and he came home for a single night and held us and loved on his children and kissed his wife so proud, and then he died in his last week of service when we were almost four.

My grandmother smiled at me and replied, That’s right, little moon.  He also named you both after the sun and the moon because he and your mother would always share the same sun and moon.

He was also a captain, Sol added, irritated that the fact he was a captain had been overlooked.  This was the story of our youth, and when my grandmother passed away, the story was our way of connecting to her as well as our father.

I carried this story, and when I was very young, I met a beautiful young boy named Brill.  We were close friends as children, playing in springs lined with wildflowers and climbing trees deep in the woods.  When I was a little older, I began to have those feelings young women get toward slightly older boys with pale blue eyes and jet-black hair that always seemed to frame his face. 

Shortly after our relationship began to change with our age, Brill lost his mother to a winter illness that claimed four other people.  He was sent to live with his uncle who was also our little village’s mayor.  The mayor wanted what was best for his sister’s son, and unfortunately, I was not what he considered best for him so we were separated.  Brill was caught visiting me without permission, so his uncle disciplined him in a way that was common enough for our time, but the fourteen-year-old boy refused to submit to his uncle.

After another beating, I took it upon myself to separate from him on my own.  He realized that I was avoiding him, and the aftermath of this realization was catastrophic to our relationship.  If he had yelled or screamed, it would have been better than refusing to even look at me.  Brill had always been many things: strong, defiant, and brave, but none of those things would help him with his uncle.

Brill began a blacksmith apprenticeship, and I started my midwife training.  I would occasionally see him watching me from afar, and one day, when he was seventeen, he smiled softly and the burden of his discontent left me. 

Part 1

Taken

Chapter 1

I was lying on my little bed, drawing a picture of my brother’s face.  That day was particularly sunny, and the air smelt sweet and slightly piney.  I loved it when the sun shone through my window, and the warmth of it set on my almost fair skin.

Our home was basically two rooms: one for my mother’s bedroom and one for the kitchen sitting area and a little loft with two little beds and a dresser for me and Sol to share.  It was small but cozy, and during our extreme winter months, it was comfortably warm.

Luna, my mother called me from outside of our little cottage built into the steep hill covered with wildflowers.  I ignored her and continued drawing in the warm sunlight that would soon be leaving our territory.

Lunie, she called me by my nickname.  Get out here, or I’ll beat you, girl.

Her threats were hollow as she had never beaten me.  I groaned and rolled out of the light of my window, and with my black pants and worn light-blue, button-up, long-sleeved shirt, I headed to our little wooden front door.  Our house was one of the few I had seen with locks on it, which always made me wonder what my mother was trying to keep out or in for that matter.

Luna, she smiled like a child.  Go find your brother for me so I can get you two ready for the festival.  She approached me and gently tugged at my ponytail.  Seriously, why have so much beautiful hair just to put in a ponytail?

Everyone loved my hair, which amused me because my mother said I got it from my father. Which of course made me happy since because only me and my brother had the same color in the entire village.  The golden speckles in our green eyes were also gifts passed on by our father, or so I was told by my mother.

Her happiness on the same day as the fall festival was a shared happiness that the entire village engaged in.  This was the beginning of the bountiful time where people had little fear of starvation, which was only a short period because in just a few months, we would be scraping by and living off what we could hunt.  Not because we didn’t grow enough food, but because the armies would come soon and take all that they desire, leaving us just enough to survive on or less. 

I smiled at her even though I had a strong suspicion that she was going to torture my hair after fetching my brother who, being a boy was safe from the braiding, twisting, and tying that I was sure to endure. This not including the two-layered dress with petticoats and ruffles that I knew she was hiding in her closet.

Yes, Mother dearest, I teased her with an accent from the town sixty miles out that she hated.  I had never seen the town, but I think it was really the accent of the collector who tried to collect her.

I plainly ignored to her protests as I turned and half ran toward our fields of grass that I knew my brother would be hunting in.  The meadow was a steep descent from the edge of the forest that was covered in waist-high grasses and patches of wildflowers and honeysuckle.  This meadow was paradise from spring to fall and a sheet of ice during the rough winter months.  Winter was coming soon; we all knew it was probably just days away as soon as the first snow fell, we would not see the grasses or flowers for months.

Sol, I called across the field, receiving only an echo as a response.  Sol, I yelled louder, but expected that there would be no response.  The reason was simple: my brother made us both children with the games we would play together.  I knew I was expected to run in the grass, and he would tackle me and scare me for laughs, so I just decided to do it.  Men did most of the hunting, but women knew how to as we did not rely on men to survive in or village when it came to food; there were too many orphans and widows.  My brother was technically the man of the house, so he spent a large amount of time making snares and hunting small game.  Everyone thought he was too small to find us any real meals, but the truth was simple: he was smart and almost intuitive with me in particular.

I spread my arms to steady myself and ran, loving the way the gravity pulled my feet to the ground.  Not twenty yards into the grass, he tackled me, laughing, and as usual, the laughter was contagious.  In one hand, he held a bouquet of flowers, and in the other a knife I suppose he used to cut them.  He kissed me on the forehead and rolled on the ground.

His hair and eyes were the exact same as mine, auburn and green.  He was also the same small frame as me, only about five four in height.  My mother said he was the small twin, which is common enough for our times.  I guess even in the womb, he cared more about me than himself.

For your hair, he lay in the dirt, pointing to the wildflowers.  I frowned at the level of girlishness I was going to have to bear for the festival. 

Mother, I asked, barely able to hide my disgust.

Mother, he smiled as he nodded.

My mother never followed the traditions of our village, excluding this one of the festival.  All young women unmarried and without children are dressed to their finest and are to dance in a circle with their hair weaved with flowers.  I always thought it was ironic because she met her husband caked in mud.

Awesome, I spoke in the sarcastic tone my mother loathes to this day.  I reached out my hand and helped him to his feet.  We joked and poked fun at my impending dress-up session that we both know my mother was going to love.

When we walked over the hill and through the opening of trees that surrounded our little house, we saw my mother standing and waiting with a smile on her face.  I submitted to her every whim of pampering, including a full scrub down and washing my hair with a gentle perfume.  She dressed me while my hair dried around my shoulders, singing a song my father taught her.

You look nice, wet head, my brother teased.  I made a short joke about how those flowers were also meant for his pretty little head, but the teasing never stopped between us.

My mother began twisting and braiding my hair, mounting the occasional flowers and finishing her masterpiece with one hanging lock down the back in the center.  I liked the hairstyle, other than the overuse of flowers.  The dress on the other hand made me look like I came from a family of money, which I did not.  I always wondered how my mother could dig up money for those dresses.  The shoes that made my feet scream and the way she tied them too tightly.

There, she stepped back from her masterpiece, and even my brother stopped teasing while I looked in our faded old mirror.  That year was different than the previous years; that year, I looked like a woman.  I was soft and beautiful. My mother looked so proud; if I hadn’t known better, I would have thought she was trying to marry me off single-handedly.

I smiled at her and thanked her.  She deserved it, today especially, All right, young man, your turn.

I turned and stuck my tongue out at him. I’ll see you there. I’m gonna go show off my new look.

Don’t you dare get dirty, Luna, she called after me as I nearly sprinted out of our little wooden front door. 

The path into town was a cheery one, wide enough to almost be considered a dirt road.  I could not help seeing my memories in these woods.  Climbing trees with my neighbor Posy, the little girl who started out so tiny and fragile and grew to a six-foot giant two years ago.  Picking berries so my mother could make us a pie, and the spring where I used to play with my best friend, who in many ways was still my best friend. 

I never dreamed of leaving those woods or that tiny town, but of course, there was no reason to want to leave. This village was the place of peace, and even though I had never really left it, I knew wars lay out beyond the valley surrounding our little safe haven.  I couldn’t dream of a place were more wildflowers grew, and even now, I know there isn’t a village I have seen with more wildflowers than what we had.

Down my cheery path, I found a special surprise: Brill leaning against a tree, looking so grown-up.  Hey, Princess, his eyebrows lifted mischievously.  I guessed I looked a lot like a princess with all the flowers in my hair.  It was that or the simple fact that he had been calling me that since the day he meet me.

Hey, you, I said, almost blushing.  I didn’t know what to do with my hands, so I crossed them on my stomach.  I could tell he was sizing me up, trying to feel out my mood or feelings.  I was no good at expressing my feelings for him.  What young woman was good at speaking to the one thing they wanted but couldn’t have?

I missed you, he said in a soft, sweet tone.  He, unfortunately for me, had no issue with expressing his feelings.  His face had changed over the last few months, becoming more defined like the rest of him.  He was taller now as well.  His black hair was cut professionally, not by his aunt, so it hung loosely; the way it was styled made it impossible not to see his blue eyes.

I didn’t know exactly what to say or at least how to say it, so I just smiled softly and walked next to him.

How is Sol? For some reason, asking me about Sol relaxed me.  He took a few more steps toward the center of our village that was still too far away to hear.

Good, I spoke in a matter-of-fact tone. He’s growing up.

So are you, he smiled softly at me.  I actually have a reason for stopping by. He searched my eyes. Happy seventeenth, I know I missed it.

Seventeen was the worst birthday known to our world; sixteen was old enough to collect, and every birthday after lessens your chances of being collected.  Most collectors preferred seventeen. I guessed on some level, they thought a sixteen-year-old girl was not quite ready for the horrors that lay ahead of them. I won’t be collected anytime soon.  I have months to worry about it. Besides, it’s not often they collect midwives.

There are several ways to avoid the collectors for women, he said and touched the side of my face, looking into my eyes intensely.  I know, of course, he means marriage.  Many young women took this route in our village.  It seemed desperate to me, and it didn’t really help if he was drafted and died in some battlefield, leaving you a damaged widow.  I guess, in our times, we fought for each day, not for a lifetime. 

We barely know each other now, even if your uncle would support the decision.  I pushed his hand down from my face, but held it with both of my own hands.

My uncle would find it pretty difficult to discipline me the way he has been known to do nowadays.  I smile