Beyond the Band of Death: Rayna of Nightwind Series - World of Taren, #2

By R.A. Baker

The Land of Taren is in Crisis! A clone from the past sent to a forbidding future, Rayna of Nightwind is given the charge of traveling beyond the deadly containment zone known as the Band. She must find a way to deactivate the sky machines before they make Taren uninhabitable. She wields the greatest telepathic power of all — the Wild Magic Chaotic. However, Rayna still has much to learn about her newfound abilities and time is running out.

In the meantime, Taren's Queen Keris and King Ciredor must face the Beasts who are determined to destroy Jerel and cast the rest of Taren into ruin. And they must face their old adversary Aric for one final battle… but this time she comes as Queen of the Dragons! The second installment in RA Baker's long-awaited fantasy and sci-fi epic is here! Baker masterfully weaves the concepts of time travel, cloning, "psi-magic" and dragon battles in an amazing way no other author can. Come see why fans are raving about the Nightwind series!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Apollo House Press
• Release date: May 17, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201170516

Book preview

Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales are entirely coincidental.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author and publishing company.

Table of Contents

Dedication

Acknowledgements

What Has Happened Before

Prologue -

Orin’s Vision

Chapter One - Wedding Day

Chapter Two - Leave-taking

Chapter Three - Aric’s Revenge

Chapter Four - The Silver Plough

Chapter Five - The Path to Jerel

Chapter Six - Sight Unseen

Chapter Seven - Beyond Irel’s Band

Chapter Eight - The Tip of the Spear

Chapter Nine - N8-01

Chapter Ten - A Brief Reprieve Before Dying

Chapter Eleven - The Catalyst

Chapter Twelve - The Hollow Ones Epilogue - Orin’s Torment

Appendix A: The Twelve Schools of Psi-Magic

Appendix B: The System of Magic

Appendix C: The Lay of the land (for any Taren tourists out there)

Appendix D: The Main and Supporting Characters

Glossary

About the Author

Dedication

To my fans, for patiently waiting for me to finish this book—and for keeping me motivated. Thank you!

Acknowledgements

Special thanks to Tina T. Williams for her invaluable input, and advice. Thank you, Tina, for helping me to bring out the best in my work. Additionally, I would like to thank Caroline, Michelle, and Jana for their enduring support.

What Has Happened Before

Rayna Powell liked science. It was her major in college; after she graduated with a degree in it and was back home with her mother, Rayna got in her car on a rainy night and never returned. While driving in the storm, she swerved to avoid hitting a woman standing in the middle of the road, crashing her car and was struck by lightning soon after. Instead of experiencing death, she was hurtled into another reality. Another land, very different from the modern science-based world she left. After crossing a barren, lightning-filled plain known as the Band, she arrived at a place known as Taren. The people there hailed Rayna as a legendary goddess returned, known locally as Irel of the Band.

The land of Taren was reeling from an ancient conflict between the citizens of East and West Taren: Psi-magic versus blade. To survive in her new, often hostile world, Rayna joined forces with an exiled woman, whom Rayna later found out was Princess Keris, rightful heir to the Taren throne. Together, they fought the Red Robes, dark servants of the half-mad ruler, Nephredom. Rayna confronted Nephredom’s greatest lieutenant—Aric Telvani of Dosk. Rayna defeated Aric using the Wild Magic Chaotic— energies that flowed within Rayna she hardly understood. With an ominous war pending against mutant men known as Beasts, Rayna discovered that while she possesses all the memories of an early 21st century woman, the original Rayna Powell had died over a thousand years ago. The body she possessed now was a clone.

Prologue

Orin’s Vision

Orin opened his eyes to fire. Everything was ablaze. He was standing inside the palace of Jerel as a pitiful handful of Jerelan guards tried to put out the flames. The guards were unshaven and their uniforms dirty—the proud crest of Jerel smeared with grime and filth. The dead lay everywhere, men and women lifeless on the floor by his feet. The guards seemed numb to the death around them. Used to the carnage, they wasted no efforts on moving the dead or mourning their losses. They were like shipmen at sea during a terrible storm, frantically trying to keep their vessel from sinking.

Nothing else mattered. Orin heard screaming and sobbing on the other side of the walls, from survivors of this attack. Then Orin understood. The guards were there for their sake—the dead would have to wait.

Orin wandered the palace, deftly avoiding stepping on the fallen. Rays of sunlight shone through the cracks and rents in the walls; the catapults and siege weapons had done their work well. Once bright paintings—priceless masterworks set in finely carved frames, inlaid with silver and gold—were now covered in soot, hanging askew or laying on the floor like trash. Majestic blue carpets, once as pale blue as the East Taren sky, were now graveyard-gray and matted down with ash. Proud tapestries depicting warriors and ancient battles, hung torn and shredded in ruins. The Beasts had let human slaves and servants attack the palace first; the bulging walls and crumbling ceilings were their handiwork. The vision told him that much. But the fire was of the Beasts. The vision told him that too.

But how? Orin wondered. The Beasts spewed acid, not fire. But the scorch marks marring the walls and ceiling begged to differ with that notion. Like all of his visions, this one did not reveal everything to him at once. What had happened to produce this possible future? He decided to look around for clues. Orin walked over to a shattered window and looked out. Charred bodies, burned beyond recognition, were scattered over the snowy grounds, a ghoulish contrast of black and white.

Orin felt the hem of his robes brush against something solid. He looked down to see a raven-haired woman, a curved dagger clutched in her lifeless hand. It was Queen Keris. A pang of profound sorrow stabbed at his heart as painful as the sharpest blade. At that moment, King Ciredor came running into view and rushed to his dead wife’s side, crying bitterly, I have failed you, my love. Ciredor wept as he gently kissed the

Queen’s cold forehead; he gathered her up in his arms. Orin reflexively stepped aside to give the King room, despite the fact the things he saw in his visions never interacted with him. They were ghost images of a reality not yet manifested and he was not actually there. But that did not lessen the grief he felt at seeing his queen dead. The King was oblivious to the fiery chaos around him, his eyes focused only on his departed wife. Orin watched as the King walked away with his beloved Keris in his arms and resisted the temptation to follow him.

Instead, Orin turned and walked around the corner and came face-to-face with a Beast. Beasts. That was the name they gave the scaled-skinned creatures, who stood

on two legs, with claws and fangs and eyes as red as fresh blood. They had been men...once. The creature opened its jagged mouth and breathed bright red fire out at Orin. Even though he knew better, Orin raised his arms in defense of the flame. The fires passed harmlessly through him, as did the Beast. Orin, of course, was not its target; it was a guard standing behind him, with his back to the Beast. The guard’s screams filled the air. Finally giving in to despair, Orin ran down the ruined hall. Then Orin saw that there were many Beasts inside the palace, terrorizing the scattered survivors and setting to flame everything in sight with their fiery breath.

Suddenly, the earth heaved and shook so violently, Orin was almost thrown to his knees. A terrifying howl reverberated throughout the palace—a deep guttural call that chilled Orin to his core. His eyes widened in fear. Something else was in the palace. Something big. Something even worse than the Beasts. The shaking had the intermittent pattern of a footfall and it was getting louder. Thump... Thump... Thump. Whatever it was, it was coming his way. Orin had seen enough. This must not come to pass! he shouted. This must never happen!" The air shimmered and the image of the palace faded to white and vanished. Then Orin was back in his room, alone.

Chapter One

Wedding Day

W ill you, Arstinax of Kuara, take Rayna Powell of Nightwind to be your wife for all the days you shall live, and honor and cherish her with all your heart? The clergyman, Levit, smiled and waited for Arstinax’s reply.

Arstinax, a tall imposing warrior, stood dressed in formal finery before Rayna, beaming. By all accounts, he was a large man, standing nearly seven feet tall with a body proportioned to match. His left hand held Rayna’s while his right rested upon an aged book, so frequently used its cover was long lost in the past. The warrior’s hand eclipsed the pages of the book and if anyone was curious as to what words lay on the surface of the outer page, they would have to wait until after the outdoor ceremony was over.

One of Arstinax’s eyes bore a square patch of brown leather but his good eye was steady and focused on Rayna. Yes, he said, with all my heart.

For better or for worse.

For better or for worse.

In sickness and in health.

In sickness and in health.

Until Death do thee part.

Until Death do us part.

The clergyman smiled again and said, By the grace of the Heavens, I hereby proclaim you both as husband and wife. Brother Levit sniffed the air, pleased, as if the ceremony had produced a pleasant fragrance. You may now kiss your bride, Arstinax of Kuara.

Arstinax drew Rayna close and planted a tender kiss on her lips, perhaps longer than he intended, but no one seemed to mind and Rayna would have been content if such a kiss had gone on all day. He was such a handsome man and this wedding was everything she had hoped for. Once they finally parted lips, a roar of celebratory applause erupted and the sounds of merriment and cheer spread throughout the camp. Taren traditions usually called for long boisterous wedding receptions, starting immediately after the wedding and lasting well into the following day. Mercifully for Rayna, it was decided that it would be best to forgo a proper reception.

Rayna caught her breath and smiled back at the happy wedding guests, as she and Arstinax quietly made their way out of the spotlight to a quiet, green spot under a nearby shade tree. If one did not know better, one would never guess that this was the second wedding of the day. Rayna’s best friend, Keris, and the war hero, Ciredor, had tied the knot less than an hour ago. In fact, Rayna had been Keris’s Maid of Honor for the first wedding, only for them to have essentially switched roles for the second one.

Both weddings were beautiful and Rayna felt honored to share a wedding day with a Queen and newly crowned King. Of course, some in the wedding party felt the opposite was true—that it was an honor for the King and Queen to have been married on the same day as a Power. That is what the people of Taren called Rayna. According to legend, she was supposed to be the reincarnation of the immortal Power of chaos and change, a former prisoner of the Band now free with the fate of Taren in her hands. Even her beloved husband believed she was a Power.

In spite of all that she had seen since she arrived in Taren, Rayna stubbornly clung to her science-student roots and trusted the natural over the supernatural; she held fast to the hope that even Psi-magic had some basis in logic. Rayna laid a square cloth upon the grass to protect her white dress before sitting down. Perhaps, she thought, some of that legend was true. Rayna indeed felt that she would play a role in Taren’s future. But as always, science trumped legend. She recently discovered that two orbiting satellites, called the Twin Eyes of Taren, were malfunctioning climate control devices. If she did not find a way to deactivate those machines, Taren would soon become uninhabitable. But that was not the only threat. A more immediate threat loomed: war.

An army of mutated men, known as Beasts, were headed to the capital city Jerel to destroy it. Queen Keris and King Ciredor were determined to make it to the city first and fight them back from there. It was no trifling affair. If Jerel fell to the Beasts, all of Taren would follow; bloodshed and death would reign thereafter.

Rayna felt a tender hand touch her shoulder. Arstinax. Rayna looked up at him with a mixed look of adoration and shame. I’m sorry, Arstinax, she said, allowing him to pull her up and draw her into his massive arms, I didn’t mean to ignore you. I know we should be enjoying our day but I couldn’t help but think about the war...and the Beasts. I can’t help but worry that this is one battle we can’t win.

Arstinax held her tight, smiling. Of all the things to think about on a wedding day, that would be the last place I would want my mind to dwell. But I understand. You are a Power first and a bride second.

I wish you would stop seeing me as some great Power reborn. I’m just me—Rayna Powell.

I love your humble nature but only a Power could have gotten us to this point and only a Power can see us through to the end.

But—

Irel of the Band? a woman’s voice sounded behind her. Rayna turned to face an elderly woman with a blue and white shawl covering her head. Rayna suppressed a groan of displeasure. The wedding had temporarily stopped the curious and awestruck from following her around like groupies to a famed rock star. By now, they were starting to return and Rayna wondered if she and her husband would ever experience privacy again. Ever since they left the fire-ravaged town of Argat to head for Jerel, people from all walks of life had joined them—many because they heard Irel of the Band was among King Ciredor’s army. Every village they passed drew followers and more than a few warriors—many eager to join the cause. As a result, Ciredor’s core army had swollen to a sizable force, which pleased Ciredor. But these new recruits brought along with them their wives and family, and a wide assortment of non-warriors whose primary purpose for being there was to be in the presence of a Power. Rayna felt as if she had a cult following and these people thought this mission to Jerel was some great pilgrimage in her honor; it was a feeling she did not share or relish.

Yes? Rayna replied as politely as she could.

The old woman blushed. Forgive me, I have never spoken to a Power before. My name is Clarice. I was hoping you could tell me whether or not my granddaughter will marry well. My daughter is too ashamed to ask you herself but she is worried the man her daughter now fancies for marriage will lead her to ruin.

Rayna hesitated, uncertain how to proceed. In the past few days, she had been asked by strangers to do everything from bless crops, to partake in long complicated tea ceremonies. But this was the first time she was asked to decide the fate of a marriage before it had even started. The irony of the fact that her own marriage was but minutes old was not lost on her. I’m sorry but I’m not Psi-clairvoyant, she replied. I can’t see into the future. That wasn’t completely true. Rayna as of late had been plagued by disturbing dreams—dreams that sometimes found their way into her reality.

But you are a Power, the woman persisted, surely you can do something. My poor daughter is worried sick.

Arstinax moved to intervene—no doubt to gently escort the woman away, but Rayna held firm to his hand to indicate she would handle the situation her way. Rayna thought about her recent marriage and how vulnerable love could leave a person. She was fortunate to have found Arstinax but she could imagine how devastating it could be, to be in love with a person who didn't feel the same way. Is the man who wants to marry your granddaughter here?

Yes, he is.

And the granddaughter?

Yes.

Then bring them both here—quickly.

Faster than Rayna thought possible for a woman her age, Clarice ran and returned with a young man and a young woman in their late teens. Both youth stared uncomfortably at Rayna’s feet. The girl fiddled with her braided black hair, while the boy grinned whenever she snuck a fleeting glance in his direction. Their youthful innocence was disarming and helped keep Rayna’s apprehension in check. She addressed the young man first. He was slightly taller than the young woman and he wore a red beard, neatly trimmed and was dashing and handsome by all accounts.

What is your name? Rayna asked.

Kraun, Your Eminence. It is an honor to meet you—an honor second only to being betrothed to the love of my life.

Rayna had to admit, the boy had a charming tongue, which made her a bit suspicious. Boys that young seldom were so good at flattery, unless they had a lot of practice. Intuitively, she opened herself up to the Wild Magic Chaotic and allowed it to fill her. With its power, she secretly probed the boy’s aura and found no malice on the surface. She dared not probe deeper in fear of hurting the boy; she was still learning how to safely use her abilities. However, she was satisfied with what her limited probe shown her. And her Psi-powered bracelet—her primary gauge of danger—detected no ill-will or ill-intent from the young man.

Do you love her? Rayna continued. Kraun looked at the young woman beside him, passionate longing in his eyes. He said, Of course, she is my—

Do you swear before Irel of the Band you will love her forever?

Yes.

Rayna turned to the woman. She was thin and fragile-looking with brown eyes that matched her hair perfectly. She was slightly shorter than Rayna—about five feet tall.

Though while her frame was delicate, her eyes looked strong and they soon shifted from nervous avoidance to a steady, direct gaze. Rayna was surprised to find her aura, though not malevolent, certainly had harsher undertones than the boy’s. She was no villainess but certainly not the innocent, sweet little girl she seemed. Oh, the irony, Rayna thought and asked the girl out loud, What’s your name?

Tyra.

Do you love him?

Completely! I—

Do you swear before Irel of the Band you will love him forever?

Yes.

Then it is done. I declare you both fit for marriage. I foresee many happy years before you and many, um...offspring. If any one of you breaks the oath you have made before me, that person will suffer the terrible wrath of Irel, which is me. Now go, and be good.

Just as the two were turning to leave, Rayna leaned over and whispered in the girl’s ear, Tyra, remember your promise and behave yourself. You may have fooled the others but not me.

Tyra blanched and swallowed before bowing quickly and walking away with her betrothed, turning once to look back at Rayna with an expression of fear and respect. After Rayna dismissed the couple, the grateful grandmother thanked Rayna profusely and headed off behind the couple, no doubt to remind them of the grave oath they had taken.

Queen Keris, still in her wedding gown, overheard the conversation and walked over to Rayna, clapping her hands lightly—slowly at first and then in rapid procession. Well done, Rayna, she said with a facetious grin. I didn't know you performed engagement blessings. You are a woman of many talents.

Rayna frowned. Now don’t you start. You may be Queen of Taren but try being ‘Irel of the Band’ for a day and see how you like it.

No thank you. I think one Irel is more than enough for this realm.

Rayna softened her tone, noting the many delicate and intricate folds of Keris’s gold and white marriage gown. Rows of sapphires bordered every hem with a sparking succession of brilliant color. Her underskirt was a crushed blue velvet—royal blue of course. Rayna’s own dress was stunning as well—far exceeding her expectations. The material was flowing white satin with green accents; a sewn necklace of emeralds formed a prominent ‘V’ down the front. The train of her gown was heavily embroidered with silver thread and tiny seed pearls, depicting dancing images of blossoming flowers and swirling patterns that seemed to weave in and out of her dress like magic. Keris told Rayna that her dress depicted a scene from folklore of how all of Taren would look after the Power Irel defeated her enemies and restored the land. Rayna didn’t believe in fairy tales but there was no mistaking the dress’ beauty. It was amazing what the royal seamstresses were able to achieve on such short notice. Rayna realized that she had been so caught up in her own world, she never complimented her friend on her gown. Your dress is beautiful, Keris, Rayna said, hoping her belated praise would be forgiven.

As is yours. I hate to cut the festivities short but my husband has called a meeting and the presence of Arstinax and yourself is required.

Rayna shrugged. Lead the way, she said, lifting her dress to avoid the dust as she followed the Queen.

The camp was large and was growing larger by the day as folks from neighboring towns and villages flocked to join them. Rayna was amazed at how so many people would want to follow them to a city destined to be attacked by the Beasts. It was faith. It was hope. It was madness. Countless makeshift tents and portable dwellings turned a previously military camp into a nomadic city, complete with noisy livestock and small children. What was more amazing was that many of these people were West Tareners and Jerel was an East Taren city. East and West Taren had been rivals since the dawn of Taren itself and yet now, that was all changing. Them working together in relative harmony for a common goal. History was being made before Rayna’s eyes. Perhaps that was the one good thing the impending Beast war had done; it was doing what Keris’s mother and father could not—it was uniting Taren under one banner.

In the center of the camp lay