Duneflyer: Stormweaver, #1

By Jay Aspen

A mysterious stranger.   A murderous ambush.   A sinister plot in the deep desert.  
And… a fleeting image of a future romance.  

Since the death of her sister, Alissa has always felt a restlessness that keeps drawing her back into the great sand sea of Irithen, a remote province on a distant planet.  Her attempt to save Talin's life confronts her with terrifying memories of her past – and a ruthless off-world military attack in the heart of the desert.  
 She has trained in the intense shaman-warrior skills that might help her survive in this vast expanse of sand, heat, enormous lizards and poisonous scorpions.  

Learning to fly a giant condor before it kills her might help as well.  
But who is the mysterious off-world mercenary in that fleeting glimpse on stolen hologram?  

The battle and the threat to her city will demand everything of her – challenges, loss, and the understanding that the ultimate defeat of these stealth-invaders will be a long campaign, demanding every ally and resource she and her people can muster.  

Duneflyer is the first book in the Stormweaver series, the far-future adventure-romance by Jay Aspen.
Perfect for fans of Avatar and Lord of the Rings.   

Publisher's note;  Stormweaver is a 6-part series, best read in chronological order. Each book tells a completed story, while the full series resolves the ultimate defeat of the traitor and the invaders.  Readers who like the whole series and character depth all at once can download the Stormweaver Trilogy Box Sets.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sandfire Publishing Ltd
• Release date: Oct 15, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201751388

Jay Aspen

Jay writes from experiences in wilderness travel and extreme sports; snow peaks in the Andes, big walls in Yosemite and Baffin Island, sailing the Irish sea to photograph puffins and dolphins. A science degree and training with Himalayan shamans led to an interest in bio-psychology. She lives in the wild Welsh Borders, sings jazz, rides horses.

Book preview

1

MAP OF PRIMAE IV FROM Arcturian satellite.

Detail unavailable due to atmospheric interference.

.

THE SUN IS RISING OVER the dunes, painting the horizon red-gold and throwing deep curving shadows across the desert. Arin snorts and tosses his long mane, impatient for a gallop in the cool morning air, but I have to wait for my brother to catch up with us before we can move on. I step in front of the restless stallion, stroking his silky neck, calming him.

Shh, Arin. It won’t be long now and you can run free...

I look back. Jaken is leading his horse down the steep trail, twisting between the rock pinnacles, his footsteps muffled in the soft white sand underfoot. The rock walls shadow his outline, curving above him to almost create a tunnel that weaves a zigzag descent through the great russet cliff. This is the only horse-trail down the vertical barrier that separates the vast deserts of Irithen from the tropical forests of Karesh.

Jaki! Hurry! We’re ready to go.

He laughs. The sound echoes hollow and strange in the steep cleft.

Alissa, can’t you just hold on a few more minutes? You always want to be on the move... and this place is too weird and amazing to rush through it the way you did.

I let out a long breath of resignation. I really should try harder to understand what it must be like for a fifteen year old on his first trip to another province. Everything is so different from the desert city where we were raised, from landscape to lifestyle to social rules. I try to recall those feelings of excitement in myself, at his age four years ago, on my first journey to my application interview at Kar university.

And yes, it had felt every bit as fascinating and interesting for me as well... but that rush of excitement soon became swallowed up in the challenge of adapting to my new life as a student in tropical Karesh. I quickly discovered why so few Irithenis choose to submit to the rules and expectations of university discipline.

This is my first visit home since I broke off my relationship with Tigan. Five months ago now, and I still feel adrift. But in a way that was the heart of the problem. I had to finally admit to myself I had been too influenced by his steady predictability at a time when I felt new and uncertain, an outsider in sophisticated Karesh. Maybe I can use this short break to build a different kind of confidence, find my own way of conforming while still having freedom to roam the vast wild expanse of the dune sea. In any case, everything will be different again once I graduate...

Jaken’s sunbleached blond hair finally catches the red of the rising sun as he emerges from the shadowed trail.

Hey! Ready when you are! His excitement flares white-gold against the russet cliff.

I gather my reins and make the leap onto Arin’s bare back. Pangaean horses are a deal taller and stronger than the animals of the early colonists’ homeworld they were named after––if the history vids are accurate. It means that anyone who wants to ride has to stay fit enough to get up there without outside help.

I draw my sand-robe around my shoulders. A quick glance behind to check that Jaken is as ready as his challenge suggests and then I can give Arin free rein for a wild gallop along the shield.

The broad band of flat gravel runs south to the five oasis cities, lying between the foot of the mountains and the shifting sand sea of the Meshkenet erg. The horse trail is worn straight and smooth from the passage of generations of Irithenis making the long journey between Kar and the five cities strung along the buried water pipeline like beads on a chain. The journey to spend the spring break with my family in Samar Makhan will take us almost two days.

Capturing a giant sand lizard to cross the dunes would take only a day and a half and is the way I have made this journey each time until now. But lizards are cold blooded and can only run in daylight, so crossing the erg means baking in the blistering heat. This journey along the shield is luxury by comparison. If we make it to the water-canyon before the sun gets too high we can rest in the shade and continue in the cool of the evening. Knowing Jaken, he will probably want to keep going all night, by moonlight.

Air-shuttle would be far faster––but we only use aircraft in emergencies and in any case the Iritheni clan chieftains have forbidden them to even overfly our airspace. It’s their way of maintaining our semi-independence from the administration in the capital. I have never visited Merkaan but it is by all accounts extremely efficient, clean and tidy with every citizen provided with a house, job, and medical care as a basic right. Which must surely mean long lists of rules and expectations, something the warlords here regard as totally unacceptable.

The other reason for the veto is more practical. The short but vicious daily sandstorm has proved well able to blast sand into any form of transport, whether air-shuttle or landcar. Even if the filters manage to stop the sand, they soon become terminally clogged with the stuff. At least, that is what the Iritheni warlords say and nobody really wants to argue with them.

Primae IV is not your average remote planet on the outer rim, the furthest edge of navigable space. Its resonance, far more powerful than the mere 7.83 hz of the colonists’ homeworld, interferes with coms transmission over any distance longer than five miles. In turn, resource extraction and use of machines disrupts the resonance, damaging everything from food-crops to human health, so we have to keep all our tec to a sophisticated minimum.

I run my hand over the outline of the rolled holo-vis in its sleeve on the side of my pack. The five-mile coms limit means that these visits home are my only chance to message the friends I left behind in Samar Makhan. Yet in a sense, I feel caught between two worlds. Just as the other university students find Irithen difficult to understand, my old friends who are now in full warrior-training find it impossible to imagine why anyone would want to live in either of the soft, pampered northern provinces.

Many of my student friends in Karesh are aiming for a career designing new tec that can beat the demanding standards of wavelength-compatibility. I am far more interested in training for the advanced levels of resonance skills, using the powerful frequency to enhance my natural abilities.

That is the kind of power that gives me the freedom to roam the wilderness on my own terms.

2

MY GUESS ABOUT JAKEN’S choice to ride all night proves accurate. The trail gleams white and straight in the silver glaze of both moons and the horses respond to the cool night air, arching their necks as their powerful legs pound the smooth crushed gravel of the dry riverbed. We ride hard into the night, the crisp desert wind stirring my hair and the soft thud of hooves on the desert shield pulsing in my ears.

I have so longed for this moment of freedom in the months of study and training, bound by the constraints of university rules. Irithen may be harsh and dangerous––but it is home and it feels like space to breathe. In the two northern provinces, the elegant twin cities of Merkaan and Kar are linked by underground coms cable, air shuttle route, and maglev bullet train––but beyond that urban bubble the rest of the Pangaean continent is as wild and unpredictable as it has always been.

Alive. Primeval. Pristine. Challenging!

Through the generations, Pangaean colonists learned to compensate for the restrictions on tec by adapting to the powerful resonance and using it for navigation, summoning, entrancement and a whole range of other skills that now serve to let us survive the harsh conditions outside the cities. As someone born and raised to train in these skills, I sometimes wonder how humans managed to stay alive, before they fled their ancient third planet of a distant sun.

Dawn shifts the dune-shadows from black into blue-beige. I rein in to watch the sun break over the skyline, pouring golden rays across the flowing curves of the dunes as the landscape fades into the far distance. The horses take their turn once more to walk and regain their wind.

So, Jaki, are you going to tell me the real reason you brought Arin all the way to Kar to meet me?

What? You mean you can’t believe it was just for the pleasure of riding back home with my beloved sister? How could you even think such a thing?

"Fine. I’m more than happy to believe that was some of it. But confess, you did insist that I took you all around the university, plus every street in Kar city we could cover before the two days’ stabling fees ran out. Not to mention every student bar and entertainment venue you could persuade me to sneak you into."

It was fun though, wasn’t it?

He flashes me the impish grin that has been his signature ever since he spent his days following me around as an accident-prone four year old. I grin fondly at him.

The degree of fun is not currently in dispute––providing I can erase my fear regarding precisely what form the parental displeasure will take if they discover how badly I have been corrupting my innocent little brother.

My attempt to sound like one of my university tutors produces a brotherly snort of amusement and derision. Jaken’s reputation for disorder is easily as notorious as mine. Except for one significant difference...

No. Don’t think about that. Not now.

Jaki? Is it because you really are seriously thinking of applying to the university? Two Irithenis graduating from Kar, both from the same family––or even the same clan––would probably be some kind of record.

"Alissa, you know perfectly well I never seriously think about anything."

I raise an eyebrow by way of agreement and wait for him to continue. He gives a diffident shrug.

Well, I had to check it out after listening to all the stories you’ve been bringing home! But I still feel that advanced warrior training is what I want to go for. Let’s face it, that’s what brings anyone the highest respect and recognition in Irithen––

He glances across at me, suddenly remembering the tacit agreement between us to stay well clear of that particular topic.

I mean, of course it’s different for you...

Jaki, just shut up. I lean forward and urge Arin to a canter once more, the light of the rising sun warming my face as dry desert wind ripples through my sand-robe and tugs at my hair. I try to imagine the speed of our passage erasing the haunted memories clinging to me like old spiderwebs in a dark cellar.

After a while, the ghosts of my past start to fade as I reconnect with the vast desert in which I was raised. Every breath of hot wind rippling the sand grains, every scuttling movement of tiny life-forms beneath the scorching surface... they all come into sharp, delicious focus in my mind. Soon my whole body feels alive and tingling, thousands of tiny connections rippling through nerves and muscles, my sense of being a deeply interconnected part of this great arc of gold and blue.

A falcon wheels and soars high above, a dark silhouette against the rich cerulean of the sky. My questing senses reach out, merging with the fierce hunting instinct of the bird as its keen eyes search for prey far below.

And then I give the piercing cry of its species, the summoning call I learned on my first training foray beyond the city with my father. After a few moments the bird responds, arcing around to dive in a long slow spiral to land on my upraised wrist. My thick leather bracer guards and protects my arm as the bird’s sharp talons tighten and grip, keeping it in perfect balance with the rhythm of Arin’s gallop. It sways with the movement for a few moments, a small, powerful body of bunched sinew and muscle, beautifully clad in mottled white and tan speckled feathers. The sun paints golden highlights on its feathers and my blond hair alike, rippling in the wind  as we ride.

The falcon turns its head and its fierce black eyes stare up at me, the hooked beak ready to pounce and kill. I release the summoning command a little, leaving the creature free to depart––but the predator decides instead to use this new perch to scan closer to the ground.

Then it leaps. A rapid beat of wings and it heads off to my right, finding a warm thermal updraft and rising a little, before circling and then dropping like a stone to grasp a small rodent in its beak and claws.

I watch it fly away, keen to put distance between its meal and the strange new ally that had helped the hunt. My fingers are still tingling from the powerful and welcome reminder of my first experience with one of these wild desert hawks. My father’s words have stayed with me in the years since that first exhilarating moment.

Alissa, a wild hawk does not become tamed. Introduce yourself in an acceptable way, and it may deign to accept you as a partner if you can prove yourself to be a valuable asset to its hunting ability.

That advice proved to be a principle that has worked well for most of the resonance skills I have learned since then. Some wild species are more amenable than others to being summoned, entranced, or repelled––but the real skill in these encounters is in remembering that wild creatures cannot be forced, only persuaded.

And to know that the interaction has some advantages for them as well as for the human who happens to be interfering with their daily life.

The next hour of riding is pure pleasure now I am back in the zone of close attunement with every breath and movement of my surroundings.

This is what makes life worth living!

The intense awareness of each change in the wind, the subtle movement of the dunes beyond the shield, the whispering, scurrying interactions of the tiny insects and reptiles beneath the surface, all ripple through my mind and body like a song. I feel I could ride forever like this and never become tired.

The trail to Samar Makhan branches off to my left, cutting across the gravel shield until the massive boulder wall of the first city on the pipeline spreads dark and long against the dun sweep of the sand sea. The desert is shimmering in heat haze now and my thoughts turn longingly to the cool interior of the house and the mist-shower that awaits.

The gate guard has no need to challenge either of us and the heavy gates swing open soundlessly at our approach. We are both well-known in the northern quarter of the city. Mostly on account of past disreputable teen exploits––but we have nothing on our records to suggest that we might pose an actual danger to the residents of the city.

Except perhaps through sheer carelessness. Although, I have made a lot of effort to reform since those early years.

Well, mostly.

We dismount and lead the horses through the arched gateway and into the winding sandy streets, the high, smooth adobe walls of the houses and courtyards towering above us on either side. Our home is not far from the gate and I feel a rush of joy at seeing our familiar names and clan sigils set next to the door leading to the rear courtyard.

Homecoming. It feels good, even though I can still remember how restless I felt when I lived here full time.

I follow Jaken through the heavy door as it slides back to let us in. Once inside the thick adobe walls of the stable, the heat vanishes and the task of brushing and watering becomes easier in the cool air wafting up from coiled underground vents and storage cellars. Jaken has warned me that my father and two elder brothers will not be home until tomorrow from their regular shift on pipeline maintenance. Then we have a three day break before the two of us are scheduled go out with our mother and take our turn.

Maintaining the precious supply of desalinated water from the giant pumping station on the southern coast is a sworn duty for everyone in the oasis cities. If the line fails, the underground storage tanks can only last for around ten days, even with strict rationing. Needless to say, the priority that Irithenis give to careful maintenance means that we rarely need to fall back on the emergency stores.

Horse duty complete, I cross the courtyard, heading for the house and some refreshment. The high russet walls are almost invisible behind the thick leaf-curtain of green vines and fruit trees breathing moisture and scent into the dry air. I pluck a huge rosy ripe nectarine as I pass and bite deep into it, the juice running between my fingers and dripping onto my travel-stained robe.

Jaken laughs. Looks like they starve you of fruit in that weird city you’ve been studying in.

My answer is somewhat muffled through another taste-explosion of spilled juice.

They have loads of fruit and everything else. I thought you’d seen some of that. It’s just different. And this is... well, it’s home. I use my elbow to push through the door and then wipe sticky hands on my robe before dropping it onto the floor.

My mother must have already heard us come clattering in because she calls from the next room.

You two! I left a tray of food in the kitchen. I’ll bring backup rations when I’ve finished this.

I peer through the doorway. Someone I have not seen before is laid out on the table while Arima is stitching a jagged cut on his arm. She gives me a brief wave and turns back to her emergency work. Some things don’t change. Settling disputes by duel was outlawed in Samar Makhan some years ago but it is still the preferred solution for anyone hotheaded enough to reject debate and mediation. My parents, and several others with medic skills, often find hopeful strangers dripping blood all over their doorstep and begging for help to avoid the city hospital and too many awkward questions.

I find the tray loaded with pickled dates and sliced oranges, together with tall glasses of iced ayan-leaf infusion. I hastily postpone thoughts of the mist shower, sinking gratefully into the pile of soft mossgreen cushions by the wall of our main living room, cradling the chilled glass in my hands. Anticipating the rush of alertness from the herb is almost as good as when the real thing kicks in after a few minutes. I focus on the tingling sensations as cool liquid runs down my parched throat.

Arima arrives a few minutes later, peeling off her blood-spattered apron as she settles herself on the cushions opposite us. She