Song Of The Earth: Enaya, #2

By Justin Trout

Nile thought it was over. His fight. His war. His life. Little did he know that fate had other plans. Rescued from the brink, Nile and his friends are facing a far more difficult test than they had anticipated. Norcross's reign of terror is ripping through Sienna like wildfire, leaving nothing but ruins in his wake. He is mad with power as he has Enaya, the element of Time, in his possession. Still he craves more, specifically the element of Earth, a linchpin in his twisted scheme to pull all of Sienna under his lordship.

Meanwhile Nile and company race against impossible odds to free themselves from the clutches of Silvago's soldiers and claim the element of Earth for themselves. As unfortunate consequences bring Nile face to face with the infamous Seraph, a deal is struck and his bonds are broken. The world shudders in the Great Dragon's wake and nothing will be the same again. 

Will Nile and his resistance be able to stop Norcross and reclaim the elements of Time and Earth? Or will the gathering shadows prove too great an obstacle for our heroes to conquer? 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Justin Trout
• Release date: Apr 6, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393585060

Book preview

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Cover Art by Deranged Doctor Design

Formatting by Deranged Doctor Design

All rights reserved

This book is protected under the copyright laws. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Disclaimer: The persons, places, things, and otherwise animate or inanimate objects mentioned in this novel are figments of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to anything or anyone is unintentional.

Acknowledgments

Song of the Earth was a challenging book to write as it was written during a challenging time. There are a lot of people I could prattle on and on about, but instead, I wish to recognize these people for their kind words and inspiration in writing this book. I don’t think I could have found the courage to write it foremost without the support of my wife. There was a time or two that I thought I shouldn’t continue, but she encouraged me to do so. Bethany Williams Trout has been a blessing in more ways than one, and I thank you for your unconditional support and love and encouragement.

I wish to thank Brandon Miller, my favorite football coach, and my eighth-grade world geography teacher. Brandon often listened to my crazy ideas and requested that I make him a character with the nickname Mercy. I did! I hope it is something you enjoy.

This book wouldn’t have been completed to a full extent if it weren’t for the fans. I got countless emails, and I read them all. I want to thank all of you, young and individually crafted geniuses, and I hope that one day you achieve your dreams.

I also would like to thank my family, especially all of my children, who keep asking, Dad, when can I be in the book? I want to thank my friends who have been a part of this journey and watched me stress over ideas.

And to God, for everything.

Since this is a novel focusing on fatherhood, I want to dedicate it to the two best earthly fathers I’ve ever had!

To my father, Clayton Trout, for always caring for me and encouraging me, and listening to my crazy ideas. Love you, dad!

To my father-in-law Jeff Williams, whose intellect and wisdom inspired me to want to be a better man! I sure do miss hearing your wisdom now.

To my children, especially my oldest three, L.T, R.T, M.T.

(I hope I can be the father you always wanted. I love you guys very much!)

World Map

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Table of Contents

Blinded

I see her.

She is facing the ocean. Her hair blows with the breeze. I’m standing several feet away, watching as she faces the world—the beautiful Earth that was given to us. I miss her. She doesn’t know I’m behind her, nor does she care. She is there, and I’m here. Watching, waiting, wanting.

The wind lifts her hair and brushes it back. Her hands clasp together, and she raises her left leg and scratches the back of her right leg with her barefoot. I want to grab her, but I’m only allowed to get this close.

I never wanted anything so badly.

Not since Dywnwen.

Not since my mother and brother.

But this . . . this I want.

She turns to face me, and my heart stops. Ashera.

She walks toward me, smiling, and her hair pools over her shoulders. Her toes bury beneath the sand with each passing step. She extends her hands to grab mine, and I feel the warmth when we touch.

She rises, hands around my neck, and pulls me closer to her. I can feel the warmth of her breath as we kiss. Our lips intertwine with each other, and I don’t want it to stop. My hands find themselves behind her back, and I squeeze as hard and as tight as I can.

From the corner of my eye, white orbs float around as if they are dancing—the water cascades against the rocks and the shore. We spin around, holding each other, and I look up, letting her kiss my cheek and my jaw. I see the mountaintop, with the trees and the green grass. It is so beautiful. I don’t deserve this view, but my Solace of Time has been so merciful to me.

Ashera kisses me then pulls back, staring into my eyes.

All I need is her.

But I can’t have her.

Because she doesn’t exist.

And my memory starts to fade, and I start to . . .

Nile woke up.

Alone.

He stared at the ceiling. The stone was cut into patterns, and Nile believed that he could make out faces. These faces have kept him company. He scratched his face, feeling his long prickly beard. Nile hadn’t eaten in twelve days. He kept count. That wasn’t the only thing he kept count of, for he hadn’t seen Ashera, Bancroft, Charis, Leo, and Locklin in four months.

He rubbed his dry eyes and rolled to his stomach. Suddenly, he gasped in pain—gasped for air—hoping to suck in what little bit of life he had left. His fingers walked across the cold stone and found their way to the cell bars. Nile mustered all his strength to pull himself up, but he slipped and fell back to the floor.

He tried again.

He came up only so far. He leaned against the bars and looked to the corner of the cell. There was a wall covered in dust and urine, surrounding a metal bucket that got changed every other week if he was lucky. It didn’t take long for Nile to get used to the smell.

The loneliness killed Nile. Sometimes, to pass the moments that slowly drifted by, he talked to himself. He replayed conversations he had with Leo and did his best impression of him. But it was the encouraging words of Ashera that kept him moving forward. He would often dream about her empowering speech when they were in Shebris’s Solace of Time, about wanting to be there with him and telling him not to give up. The more he thought about those words—the more he wanted to kiss her.

The hallucinations came and went and Solace of Time abandoned him. It became difficult to visit the dream state, especially since he was weak and hungry. It was hard to concentrate most days, and his fantasies turned from kisses to drinking water. He was only given an eight-ounce glass of water every three days. Once, he’d tried to make his water last by only sipping on it every other hour. It was a small sip, but it quenched his thirst. He got so thirsty that in the sixth hour, he finished it. The guards would come in and taunt him. Sometimes they would throw a bucket of water on the floor and laugh as Nile stuck his fingers through the bars and run them across the wet stone. He would lick them clean.

He was miserable.

When he swallowed, he only felt dry lumps of mucus run down the back of his abrasive throat. He coughed, fell to his side, and coughed again. He coughed so violently that when he slid his hands from the bars to cover his mouth, he fell to his back.

He laid there.

Nile rolled his eyes to the wall and saw a blue spot about the size of a coin. He could see the sky. There was a crack providing a view of the outside world. He stared at it for a moment longer. What’s out there?

He extended his arm and clutched a stone that protruded from the floor. With all his might, he pulled himself closer to the wall. His muscles tightened, and he lost his strength with each pull, but he made it. He peered through the small opening and could see the frost on the ground. Nile felt a bit of hope creep upon him, and he closed his eyes to embrace it.

Don’t give up, Nile said, thinking about Ashera’s words.

Nile opened his eyes and peered through the opening. He longed to see her. What would she say to him now? Is she even alive? Nile gasped at the thoughts. He took a deep breath and leaned his forehead against the cold wall. His fingers picked at the stone, and he closed his eyes, slowly rolling himself over to his back. It was a few moments before he realized that his face was wet with tears.

* * *

Ashera was never much of a singer. She sang the wizard hymns her uncle had taught her, but she never sang in front of people unless forced. Ashera had almost forgotten how to sing. Her thoughts were consumed with fear and pain.

However, Ashera sang on this day.

Her song was beautiful and sad, telling the story of a world forced to change. Her song shifted, and the moon language that rolled off of her tongue made her pause and think about Nile Whitman. It was normal for her to think of him, especially since he showed her Solace of Time. Ashera ached to revisit his Solace—hurt to know more about Nile.

She remained hopeful despite the agonizing pain. She remembered one of the last things Nile had said when they were being separated. The Ancrya had landed in the dome, and Nile was shoved out with his hands were behind his back. The two had stared at each other for moments before Nile smiled. He was just as scared as she was, but he stayed strong.

Have hope, Nile said.

Ashera’s hope carried her every day.

It was revealed in her song.

She whispered, "Il ac’s yeur bejari."

Nothing happened. Ashera had lost her magic. She hadn’t seen the moon in months, and the moon could not hear her whispers. She had tried every day to bring down that opposite wall, only hoping to see Nile.

But Nile Whitman could be dead.

Every day, the same thought forced her to push her hand down and slide it between the bars. She fell to the floor as thoughts of Nile flashed through her mind. He must be hurting. If only I could take the pain away from him, she thought. If only I could be with him now.

Even though she thought that Nile might be dead, she had to believe that he was on the opposite side of the wall. She imagined him sitting in his cell—wanting her.

The truth was, even though she did not know it, Nile was sitting on the opposite side of the wall. He was in his cell, gazing out of the coin-sized hole missing Ashera.

Two people—interested in each other—separated by stone.

Of Sadness and Sorrow

Norcross stood behind a podium on the Gophem Stage.

The Gophem Stage was an outdoor theater that the citizens of Silvago would enjoy in the warm summer months. Plays had been canceled once the time shift occurred, and Silvago found its way into a new world. This didn’t keep Norcross from making it useful. The Gophem Stage became the center for Magical beheadings and magic demonstrations to placate the more curious Silvago citizens. The once innocent stage that supported children’s plays and poetic classics had become Norcross Kenneth’s horrific playground.

He fingered the rough edges of the podium. One hand had the touch of bare skin against the wood, and the other hand was covered in a black glove. Every time he saw the gloved hand, he was reminded of Charis and the arrow. Charis met her fate, though. A lustful smile of revenge spread across his narrow face.

Norcross took in a deep breath of the winter air. It was late December, and only a few days before the ancient holiday, Norcross and his world celebrated. A holiday that had been celebrated for over seven thousand years. He reminded people of that as he said, Happy Holidays, in his greeting when he first stood at the podium.

His eyes scanned through the crowd as a sea of faces stared back at him. They would have voted for any schmuck who ran for office and offered them free healthcare and tax deductibles. Norcross knew this. He ran his campaign on such ideas, and he fooled the people. Norcross never intended on fulfilling his promises, but he wanted to expand the sanctions thirty miles north, west, east, and south to help grow the city. Unfortunately, the funding and the material wasn’t available to him. It would have taken at least twelve years before the sanction expansion could have happened. But his approval went down by the thousands as his citizens found themselves in a new world and in a different time, so he was sure that he wouldn’t be running for governor again. That’s why he had to take action. He had to get the people to want him to stay in power.

It was this goal that placed him on the Gophem Stage before a tight-lipped crowd. He was going to make an announcement that would please the people of Silvago. He was going to change a course in history for the better. Four months of being here began to eat at him. He had questioned if any of the other cities speculated where they were—or even remembered if Silvago existed.

Ladies and gentleman, Norcross said as his lips barely touched the microphone.

The citizens watched him in silence.

Our departure from the old world has left many of us aching to go home! We have families in Abistol or Linderstein. We have trade routes set up for Jefferson City and Talibandu. We are missing our way of life...

Thousands of people began to shout and scream in disgust at Norcross.

He held up a finger to silence them. I propose a plan of action. He pulled out a small blue oval gem from his pocket and held it out. "This is Enaya, the Element of Time. This is what brought us here. It was used by terrorists seeking to destroy our way of life—two magical named Nile Whitman and Leo Connell."

People gasped, but they had to believe it. Norcross stuck his hand out so that they could get a better look before placing Enaya back in his pocket. He grinned.

You all know that Silvago and our world means everything to me, but think about a world without sanctions. Think about a world where you can live freely and go anywhere you want to go. A world we can create the way we want it to be. It’s not difficult to picture that now.

Norcross paused.

"Our plan has changed. We will be creating a world without sanctions. You can leave freely, travel without the harmful effects of radiation, and the risk of our own biosphere causing harm to our bodies. We will build industrial factories and trains that travel between cities. We will go back to a simpler way of life we’ve only read about. And we will have complete freedom!"

It was then that the people began to agree.

* * *

Nile was familiar with the sound of the metallic doors. It was swoosh and then a clank. He was never excited about these sounds—never excited about what followed. Usually, it was the sound of footsteps. This was different. It was multiple footsteps. My time has come.

The steps came closer to him, and he was awaiting death. An eerie feeling shot down his back as all his sins played out in his memory. All of Silvago is going to judge me. They’ll judge me, and they don’t even know how it happened. Guilt and fear had manifested in his young withered heart over the past several months as he found himself in the small cell awaiting the final adventure—death.

Today is your lucky day, said a soldier through his mask as he approached the cell.

Nile gulped.

Do you know what is scheduled today? asked one of the other soldiers.

Nile shook his head.

Your death! There was sinister laughter that followed, and the soldier was waiting for the others to join in. There was a snicker, then a cough, and they retook their posture.

Nile rested his head on the stone wall behind him. He took a deep and harsh breath. It doesn’t matter what they know. People will believe what they want to believe anyway. I can’t change that.

You, Leo, Locklin, and Ashera. Is that how you pronounce her name? asked a soldier, stepping forward.

Nile’s eyes widened as he forced himself forward. She’s still alive.

They’re, they’re alive, Nile forced, finding it hard to speak through his dry mouth.

Well, for the next twenty-three minutes, replied the soldier in front, who started fumbling through some keys until he came to one. He opened the cell, and two of the soldiers rushed in and forced Nile against the wall. He grunted in pain as they chained his hands behind his back.

Nile was shoved in the back, and he tripped over his own feet but caught his balance against some cold steel bars. He wobbled as he straightened himself up, hearing some of his joints pop. Nile moved out of the cell. On the third step, his knees quivered, and he almost fell. One of the soldiers grabbed Nile and helped him up. It was the soldier that didn’t go in his cell and cuff him or the one that did the talking. As the soldier helped bring Nile to his feet, Nile looked into his vacant mask. He couldn’t see the eyes through the black hollow lids covering the face, but he imagined them being green. Nile nodded his thanks and began to walk forward. The other soldiers started to laugh at the one that showed compassion. That soldier remained silent.

Nile came to the metallic door.

SWOOSH!

CLANK!

He staggered into a brightly lit hallway. The marble floors reflected the bright light from the ceiling. He glanced around the hallway and felt the barrel of a rifle poke his spine.

You got a crowd today, said a soldier.

Nile wobbled as he came to another metallic door. It opened, revealing a staircase.

Go up!

Nile struggled up the staircase. His right leg felt like a log as he tried to lift it. He didn’t get his foot halfway up before his other leg gave in to the weight causing him to fall forward. Two soldiers helped Nile up to his feet.

Water? Nile mumbled, stopping to catch his breath.

He felt the butt of a rifle smash into his spine, and he fell to the ground. He rolled to his back. The soldier to the Nile's right stepped forward with his canteen and gave him a sip of his water.

What are you doing? asked a soldier, harshly.

He’s about to die, replied the soldier.

Exactly, said another.

Nile yearned and looked up. Can I know your name? Before I die, can I know your name since you helped me?

Officer Kyle, but you can call me Beard, he replied, capping his canteen and placing it back on his belt.

Beard? Nile asked bleakly.

Beard reached up, pressing the small button behind his jawbone. The face extended outward, steam exhaled, and the soldier took off his mask. He looked at Nile, and he grinned. Although his smile was hidden behind his bushy orange beard, his smile made his green eyes crinkle. He placed his helmet back on and the mask connected at the seams.

Thank you, Beard, Nile said. I was right about his eyes.

Kyle reached down and grabbed Nile, pulling him to his feet. Beard caught Nile and held him for a second and realized that Nile was hugging him. Beard embraced him for a moment before helping him stand straight.

Aw, mocked a soldier. Somebody has a friend.

Kyle ignored him as he helped Nile around the corner to face another door.

SWOOSH!

CLANK!

A long stretch of a hallway with glass surrounding both sides seemed narrow and uncomfortable. The thought of walking down this room became frightening as he realized how enclosed he would be with the other soldiers. To his left was the city of Silvago. To his right were a few smaller buildings, not high enough to cover his view of the mountains. The sun was rising. Nile took a few steps to the center of the hall and stopped. He turned and took it all in.

He hadn’t seen the sun in months.

It smiled at Nile, bathing him in warm rays, melting the frost from the glass and the ground. The tips of the mountains were covered in snow, and Nile was reminded of Woodlands. There were a lot of mornings spent like this—he would wake up and sit on his front porch, wrapped up in a wool blanket, and drinking green tea. It was almost his favorite time of the year. Early risers in Woodlands would often come out and join Nile on his porch. Dywn would make fun of him about it, but she later admitted that she was jealous and would sit at her balcony and watch Nile laugh with people. This morning seemed just like that. He missed his wool blanket that was rolled up and forced under his bed, and he missed his favorite wooden mug his father made him, and he missed the villagers of Woodlands, telling him of their stories. Nile couldn’t help but get sentimental after the thought, and a melancholy grin glowed from his face. Home.

Come on. Let’s go, said a soldier.

Give him a minute, Kyle barked.

Nile embraced the sun. It felt so good—so ancient.

There was another metallic door. Nile stepped through, this time entering a room with cells. Each cell was filled with the Magical. Children rushed to the bars and gripped them. They stared at Nile as he passed through. The heaviness in Nile’s soul became overwhelming with the desperate need for forgiveness. Memories fluttered through his mind like a flock of birds leaving for the winter—each memory was filled with pain.

I can’t keep beating myself up over this. It was an accident. It wasn’t my fault. How did I know? How was I supposed to know?

It’s him, said a kid.

I know, replied a woman in the cell, her eyes black and her face swollen and bruised. She grabbed her son and held him closely.

One of the soldiers began to speak. They know you as the one who brought war upon them.

Yes, Nile replied.

A soldier grabbed him by his arm. Nile jerked to a stop and grunted as his frail bones locked within themselves. He took a deep breath. A heavy breath. One filled with burden. The Magical rushed to the edge of their cells and seized their bars. Nile tried not to look, but his eyes met a young woman. Her clothing was torn, and bruises and cuts covered her arms and her legs. In the cell with her were a little boy and another woman holding a baby.

I hate you! she screamed and spat through the bars. I hate you, Nile Whitman.

She knows my name. Nile looked away as her piercing screams echoed through the tormented room.

A man in a cell jumped to his bars. Stop it!

What? screamed the woman.

It isn’t his fault.

Nile looked to the man.

He didn’t make this city raid us. Rumor has it that it was an accident. The man looked to Nile. Rumor has it that you can fix this. I believe in you.

I can, Nile said, I can fix this.

Finally, somebody who understands.

The soldiers began to laugh, but not Beard, who reached over and grabbed Nile by his arm and began down the hallway. The Magical continued to scream and reach out of the bars for Nile Whitman as he passed through.

His head hung low.

Last door, Kyle said as Nile came to it.

The door opened, and Nile could see the sun shining before him. He stepped out and felt the cold air chill him through the rags he was wearing. He found himself upon a stage covered in melted rime. He slid as he stepped across the wood. His barefoot absorbed the coldness of this world, and he loved it. He had forgotten what wood felt like—or even snow.

Nile brought his head up, and before him stood Norcross. Nile didn’t make a face or stare at him. Instead, he walked past as the soldiers guided him. From the corner of his eye, Nile could see that Norcross was grinning.

Nile’s eyes followed the rest of the stage. At the juncture was a guillotine. There was dried blood below it, covered in frost. Nile gulped and took a step closer. He noticed something coiled to his left, and when he looked, he saw it was a chain with a collar. One of the soldiers reached for the chain and brought it to his neck. He fastened it, and Nile shivered as the cold steel locked in place.

We’ll bring the others out and let the crowd decide who to behead first, Norcross said.

There was a crowd of thousands screaming in anger and frustration. There was a group holding up a sign that read, Kill the Magic, and some others that said, Silvago Equals More. Objects began to fly across the air and land on the stage. One was a rag doll. The others were fruit and vegetables. A tomato exploded at Nile’s feet, and the cold juices sprinkled over his toes.

Norcross stepped from the podium and trotted toward Nile. His hands clasped, and a powerful wicked smile stretched over his face. His long leather trench coat swayed in the wind, and he stopped before Nile. Norcross reached over and squeezed both of Nile’s shoulders.

Let’s fix this here, Norcross said, his tongue poking out between his lips. He began messing with the rags Nile was wearing, straightening out the collar. When he was finished, he slapped Nile in the arm, enough for it to sting. He said, I want you to look your best today. You know I have to kill you to ensure that Silvago can’t go back. As long as you live, you risk my mission. The Jhet-Snie Operation. Norcross laughed. I’m proving day by day that there is only one God, and that’s the God you create yourself to be.

You’re wrong, Nile replied, gulping hard.

A soldier punched Nile and his head flung to the side. His eyes fell upon Kyle, who was only watching.

I believe you, Kyle whispered.

Nile’s eyes widened. You do?

Yes, Kyle replied. I’m going to get you out of here. The Queen has sent for you. Bear with me.

The door opened behind Nile. He staggered, but he managed to turn and look. Leo was pushed out. He was shirtless, and his ribs poked through his skin. Leo was barefoot, and he quivered as his toes chilled against the frosted stage. Leo’s chin was a little puffy. The soldier brought Leo to a chain and picked it up, placing the chain around his neck.

You look good, Leo joked, judging Nile.

Still the same.

Nile smirked. You look like hell.

That’s where I’ve been, Leo said.

The soldier tightened the collar around Leo’s neck.

Easy, Leo mumbled, glaring at the soldier.

The others? Nile asked.

I don’t know, Leo replied.

The doors opened again; this time, Locklin was pulled to a chain, and the soldiers stood him straight. Nile turned as best he could, but the chain was so tight that he only had so much room he could move before the collar began to pull at his throat. He looked to see that Locklin had several lashes across his chest and his arms. His beard had grown into a forest, and his eyes were black.

Locklin? Nile asked.

Eh? Locklin grunted, his eyes weary.

The crowd roared, and three soldiers pushed their way to the center of the crowd. Their rifles bounced on their shoulders as they made their way through the screaming citizens.

In case we try to escape, I guess.

The door opened again, and Nile looked back, this time seeing Ashera. She staggered out, squinting in the sun. Her oily hair covered her face. Her clothes had been torn, and she was covered in dirt. Nile’s eyes widened, and he stepped toward her, but the chain yanked, and Nile jerked backward.

Ashera? Nile asked.

Ashera stopped to his voice. She swayed her hair from her eyes and stared at Nile. You’re alive? Her eyes became teary. I thought – I thought you were dead. I thought I’d never see you again.

The soldier behind her pushed her toward a chain. She stumbled but caught her balance, and he brought the collar up around her neck. She began to poke and pry at it. I never thought I’d see any of you again.

Now’s a good time to tell her that her words kept you alive. You’ll never get another chance to tell her how much you appreciate what she said back in Shebris’s Solace. Tell her now.

Ashera, Nile said. I wanted to tell you...

It’s good to see all of you, Norcross interrupted.

Nile snapped his neck to the governor. Norcross dusted off a bit of snow that had fallen on him, and he grabbed the edges of the podium. He leaned forward, his lips gently pressed against the microphone.

These are your enemies, he said. These are the terrorist who are to blame for the time shift in our world.

The crowd began to scream in anger. They looked like barking dogs as they pointed their fingers and called for slaughter. Locklin looked at some of them. He swore that he heard the word ‘traitor.’ He closed his eyes and began sobbing, knowing that his own city was unaware of the madness Norcross has put them through.

Don’t look at them, Nile said to