Love at First Plight

By Amanda Giasson and Julie B. Campbell

There is more than one perspective to every story. On Qarradune, it takes two points of view to make sense of the world. What you know depends on whose story you are following.
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Two young women cross paths on the world of Qarradune. Megan Wynters is a Canadian without any idea as to how she arrived in this place, which feels more like fantasy than reality. Irys Godeleva was born on Qarradune and yet her sheltered life in Syliza has kept her from ever having seen it.
As both women find themselves in the clutches of Kavylak’s military and its strangely skilled elite team of Warriors, adventure becomes inevitable.

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Megan:

My life went from ordinary to extraordinary in the blink of an eye. I didn't know where I was or how I got there. I didn't know if I would ever see my home or the people that I loved again. All I did know was that I had to save her.

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Irys:
Beaten, unwashed, and starving, I was alone, imprisoned, and enslaved. I didn't want to die, but I was ready. At least, I thought I was. Someone entered my life and tipped the world over. My beautiful bubble had burst, but the reality that came next was astounding.

*****

Love at First Plight is the debut novel of Amanda Giasson and Julie B. Campbell and is also the first volume in the Perspective book series.

The next book in the series is Second Wind.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Qarradune Books
• Release date: Mar 11, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005220853

Book preview

Chapter 1

Megan

There were only two things that I knew for certain: I had no idea where I was, and I had no idea how I got here.

The last normal thing I could remember was taking a nap in the afternoon, something I enjoyed doing during my school-free summer months. Not even bothering to change out of my faded jeans and T-shirt, I had curled up on my bed and dozed. I vaguely remembered dreaming of a man whose face I couldn’t see and whose voice I didn’t recognize. He’d asked a lot of questions, and I’d given a lot of answers. I couldn’t recall any of them.

When I awoke, I wasn’t in my room at home anymore. I was here – wherever here was – in a room that was entirely foreign to me, lying on a bed, wearing weird clothes. At first, I’d thought that I was still dreaming, but no amount of pinching myself, holding my breath, or clicking my heels together resulted in waking to the reality I had known for the first eighteen years of my life.

This wasn’t a dream. I was stuck on some sort of large military vessel that felt more like a cold steel fortress than a ship. After living a few days in my new surroundings, I had hoped that I’d understand more about what had happened to me and where in the world I was. I remained un-enlightened.

I didn’t know what I found stranger: the ship that I knew was on water but that I could never feel moving beneath my feet, or the people aboard it.

My daily meeting with Xandon was only a short time away. He was some sort of military guy who had been kind and patient with me, and I was starting to think of him as a friend. However, while I did enjoy his company, I had to admit that part of me wasn’t looking forward to this meeting.

I knew he was trying to help me, but I was growing tired of our same old conversations. He would ask me about what I couldn’t explain and about my life back home. In return, I received only the snippets of information that he cared to share with me about some place he called Qarradune and a country he called Kavylak. This ship and its inhabitants were from that Kavylak country.

Wherever on Earth that is.

Xandon was the most striking man I’d ever seen. Ageless and tall, with graceful movements and lustrous white hair, his appearance was as formidable as it was beautiful. Yet, even his otherworldly features and our talks were no longer enough to distract me from what I craved the most. I wanted to go home.

I flopped down on the stiff small bed in my room and heaved a big sigh.

This sucks.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt this bored and lonely. Although I was permitted to freely roam certain parts of the ship, there really wasn’t anything exciting to do or see, and there was something about this place and its people that unnerved me.

I tried making friends with another soldier once, but the sneer he gave me in response to my hello told me that I should quit while I was ahead. I tried not to let it bother me. Xandon was a cooler-looking friend anyway.

Usually, when I wasn’t with Xandon, I chose to stay in my room. As a result, I spent a lot of time contemplating my situation and staring at a small spot on the ceiling above my bed.

I had lost track of how much time I’d spent staring at that spot, but I found it was the only way I could truly think. I was hoping that if I stared at it long enough, I would get an epiphany and figure out how to find my way back home. Xandon had said that he would be better able to help me return to my home once we reached the Kavylak Capital, and I found myself desperate to believe him.

I’d named the spot Cole, after my best friend back home. I missed him. I missed my Aunt Vera too. She must have been worried sick from wondering where I was. She probably thought I’d run away, or worse, that I had been kidnapped. Little did she know that I was off in the land of Obliv-a-dune staring at a spot on the ceiling of a massive seafaring ship!

The ceiling spot began to blur. I shut my eyes and bit my lip. I refused to waste one more stupid tear. I lay still with my eyes closed, letting the dull droning of what I was assuming were the ship’s engines fill my ears and calm me.

A few minutes passed, and I could feel myself relax. Maybe I would just take a nap and hopefully after waking up this would all have been the bad, bad, boring dream I desperately wanted it to be. I rolled over and curled on my side, attempting to cuddle into the scratchy grey blanket covering the bed. I exhaled and concentrated on my breathing for a while, but no matter how hard I tried, I could not get comfortable. My nose would itch, my leg twitched, and eventually all I could hear was the pounding of my heart in my ears.

Anxiety crept in all around me. My eyes snapped open, and I sat up abruptly. I suddenly felt trapped, and I needed to get out. I could not bear the thought of staying shut away in this room a moment longer.

I opened the door and peeked out into the brightly lit hallway. No one was there. I stepped out, having no intended destination in mind. I just needed to move. As I headed down the hall, staring at the bumpy surface of the metal floor as I walked, I heard the sound of footsteps. I looked up to see a woman with greying hair walking toward me. She wasn’t a soldier.

When I’d first explored the ship, I’d discovered that there were other non-military people living onboard. These people, both men and women of varying ages, looked weathered and unhappy, and I thought most, if not all of them, had jobs on the ship. Some walked with their heads bowed and never looked at me when I passed, while others gave me cold and unwelcoming glares as if they resented my existence. Needless to say, the inhabitants on this vessel weren’t what I would classify as the warm and fuzzy variety, and as had been the case with the sneering soldier, I had quickly given up on the idea of finding a friend among them.

I noticed that the woman’s clothing was identical to mine – a long and shapeless dress. I’d seen some pretty awful dresses before, but these dresses really were the definition of dull. If ever there was a dress that wanted to die, I was certain I was wearing it. It was a gloomy black, with a high square neck and long sleeves. The hem of the dress rested just below my shins, and the texture of the thick fabric, though smooth like cotton, had stiffness comparable to denim. The garment hung loosely from my body and lacked any design that would indicate my form. I had no idea if this was standard Kavylak fashion or if they gave me one of the ship’s worker uniforms. All I knew was that I missed my jeans and T-shirt.

I smiled at her as she passed, but she gave me only a cold stare in return when she walked by. My smile faded.

Okay, so someone’s not a morning person...or is it the afternoon?

I had no idea how to tell time here.

Oh well, I guess I can’t blame her for being unfriendly. I bet her dress put her in a foul mood.

I walked until I reached the stairs and headed down them to the deck below. I did my best to be as discreet as possible. I didn’t want to draw any unwanted attention to myself. This was the kind of place where you felt like you were being watched all the time, even though you couldn’t explain it and although there was no proof.

To the best of my knowledge, there were no security cameras here, but that didn’t mean that this technology or some other form of its kind did not exist. So much of my new environment was foreign to me, but there were still enough similarities to my own home to make the experience manageable. Yet somehow it was unsettling and bewildering at the same time.

My anxiety over being watched was likely my imagination and nerves getting the better of me. Then again, maybe it was because this was a military vessel or maybe it was because I was thinking of Captain Galnar.

I didn’t know much about him other than what Xandon had told me. Captain Galnar was the leader of an elite group of soldiers known as the Warriors. I had seen him only a few times when Xandon and I had passed him in the hall, but those brief glimpses were enough to give me the impression that the guy was somehow unnatural. Even though Captain Galnar appeared to be a young man in his early twenties, he was just plain-old freaky looking. It was like he’d had the colour sucked out of him. I didn’t know what part of him was whiter, his skin or his hair! Something about him and those freaky intense red eyes of his were so incredibly unnerving that when I saw him, I instantly felt like running the other way.

I stopped at the final landing. Without realizing it, I had walked down three flights of stairs. I looked around. There was still no one in sight. I sighed a bit of relief and looked at the door in front of me. I turned my head left to look down the corridor, considering the options that awaited me. I knew there were only locked doors, storage, and an engine room in that direction. Nothing that I had found was of real interest when I had first explored the bottom deck.

I glanced at the large metal door that was directly in front of me. I’d passed this door several times, and it led to one of the parts of the ship that was off-limits-to-a-Megan. I stepped up to it, reaching for the handle and froze when I touched it.

What am I doing?

I stood there unmoving, knowing that I should let go and return to my room, but I was so incredibly bored. The idea of any sort of adventure, even a potentially dangerous one, was starting to sound appealing.

The door was probably locked, anyway. It was the only one on this floor that I had never tried to open, since it was forbidden to me. I took a firmer grip on the handle and pushed down on the lever, expecting to meet resistance. There was none. The lever turned, indicating the door wasn’t locked. I quickly retracted my hand as if the handle had burned me, and I took a step back.

I stared at the door and then quickly glanced to the left and back up the stairs, half expecting to see a soldier glaring at me. No one was there. I took a breath and shut my eyes, trying to calm my racing heart. I knew I should have left, but I didn’t move. Curiosity was getting the better of me. Maybe, if I just rested my ear against the door to hear if there was any sound coming from the other side, that would be enough to appease me. After all, there was no harm in listening, was there? It wasn’t like I was actually breaking any rules if I remained on the outside.

I made up my mind and tentatively stepped up to the door, resting my ear against it. At first, I heard nothing, but then I heard what sounded like a humming. Not like the ship’s regular humming. This one sounded melodic.

I wanted to hear it more clearly to confirm what I was hearing and that my ears were not playing tricks on me. After making certain that I was still alone, I reached for the handle, held my breath out of anticipation, and turned it. I pushed the door ajar and was instantly greeted by the voice of an angel. It was singing that I had been hearing, and the voice belonged to a woman. The melody was powerful and hauntingly beautiful. I stood there entranced as a huge range of emotions washed over me. I felt overwhelmed by relief, happiness, fear, sorrow, desperation, and intense courage all at the same time.

I blinked, snapping myself out of my stupor and peered inside. It was pretty dark, but I could see the start of what looked like a very narrow staircase. My intuition – or maybe it was the singing – was strongly urging me to go forward. I listened to it and opened the door farther, enough for me to enter. I slowly exhaled the breath I had been holding as I quietly eased my way through the door. Keeping the heavy door open with one hand, I reached out my other for the railing.

I grasped the sticky moist bar – ew – and took a step forward so that I could soundlessly close the door. I gasped, startled when my foot slipped off the short strip of landing. I instantly released the door and reached out frantically for the other rail to prevent myself from falling down the stairs. Any relief I’d felt after successfully catching myself, was cut short by the sound of the door slamming shut behind me.

So much for being discreet.

I held my breath and realized that the song had stopped abruptly. I listened desperately, unmoving on the stairs, straining my ears to hear anything over the pounding of my own heart. The courage I had been feeling was quickly overrun by sheer terror as reality took hold. I was alone in a forbidden place, not knowing who or what I would find...or what would find me.

I didn’t know how long I had remained frozen, but the sound of dripping water drew me out of my panicked and frightened state. I inhaled deeply through my nose in an effort to calm my racing heart. That was a mistake.

I was immediately greeted by the foulest stench I had ever encountered, a stomach-churning mixture of rot and sewage. I slammed my eyes shut and quickly covered my nose and mouth with my dress sleeve. I fought back the urge to puke and desperately tried to recover my breath.

Gaining control over my breathing and swirling stomach, I noticed that my skin felt unusually clammy. A few loose strands of my hair were clinging uncomfortably to my forehead and the sides of my face. The air was thick with moisture. It felt like I had just walked into the open jaws of a huge beast, and its putrid breath was coating me in its slime.

Yuck! This place is seriously nasty.

Everything felt wrong. I should have left, but I had come this far, and I felt that I would regret leaving more than I would regret staying. I kept one hand secured firmly on the railing and the other at my side. I debated using my free hand to cover my nose and mouth but didn’t want my face to come in contact with whatever icky substance coated my hand from the railing. Choosing the lesser of two evils, I decided to take shallow breaths through my mouth instead.

I started to make my way slowly down the steep narrow stairs, moving my feet carefully onto each grated step. The flat soles of my shoes offered me very little traction on the slippery metal surface. The last thing I wanted was to fall down the stairs.

I reached the bottom and looked around. Although the space was dimly lit, it was still very hard to see or to make out any real details. I could hear the distinct sound of dripping in the distance. I was starting to think I was in a sewer.

Do ships have sewers? Yeah, Megan, ships have sewers with people in them who sing pretty songs. Honestly! Focus!

From where I stood, I could see that all that lay before me was a long hall with doors that lined the walls on either side. My eyes could distinguish only six doors in total, three on each side. Beyond that was only darkness.

I heard a scurrying sound and tensed, springing up onto the bottom step. My eyes searched my surroundings to find the source of the noise. I saw nothing.

Oh god, oh god, oh god! There are creatures living down here, and I don’t even want to guess what kind!

I fought the urge to scream like a banshee and bolt up the stairs.

It’s alright, Megan. It’s probably just a friendly little mouse going about his business, finding some tiny morsel to bring home to his family and the missus, that’s all. It’s not some huge rat king with big spider minions planning to attack you.

Okay, my pep talk really wasn’t helping me, and the sound of the irritating tiny clinks of dripping water was really starting to get to me. It was time to be productive and to find out who was down here.

Maybe I’ll find a sewer fairy.

I walked toward the first door on my left and noticed that high up on the door was a small box-window with bars on it, about the size of my head. I stopped in front of it, and at that moment, I felt a sting of terror as a sudden realization took me over. This wasn’t some forgotten storage area or some sewer.

Is this a prison? Does this mean that the person I’m looking for is a criminal? No!

I refused to believe that someone who had a voice that angelic could be bad. I knew it was illogical to think that way, but I had to believe in something good. Besides, there were all different types of criminals, and I certainly had nothing against the person I was searching for. I didn’t know her, and this wasn’t even my home.

Who am I to judge?

I stood on the tips of my toes and reached my hands out to the bars to steady myself. I grimaced as I wrapped my fingers around the clammy poles. Fighting the chills that were walking up and down my spine, I brought my head close to the bars and ignored the scent of rust that entered my nose. It was a smell that reminded me of blood. I peered intently into the darkness of the room, hoping that the smell was only rusting metal and nothing more.

At first, I didn’t see anything, but upon further inspection of the floor, I could see that there was a person lying there. It wasn’t light enough to make out any colours or features, but based on their size and dress, I guessed that it was a woman.

It has to be her!

She wasn’t moving, but she had stopped singing.

Maybe she’s fallen asleep.

I watched her for a moment, not sure what to do, and then I heard the scurrying sound again. This time, I saw what was making the sound. Rats. They were in there with her, and they were moving around her. One even crawled on top of her. In that instant, I knew I was wrong.

She’s not sleeping…

The horrible realization struck me with a force so powerful that my hands went numb. I released the bars and stepped back from the door feeling panicked and dizzy from shock.

Swallowing hard in an effort to calm my swirling stomach, I listened desperately for sounds beyond the dripping and the rats. I heard nothing.

When I felt that I could move, I walked farther down the hall and decided I’d try only one more time to see if anyone else was alive in this hellish place.

Taking on my biggest nerve, I called out, Hello? The sound of my broken voice startled me as it cut through the quiet and echoed off the walls.

No voice greeted me in return, but I heard a scuffing sound coming from somewhere farther down the hall. I walked toward it and stopped in front of the last door, placing my fingers around the window bars. Standing on the tips of my toes, I looked in.

There was a person sitting against the back wall of the room. I couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman. Whoever it was, this person was breathing, and right now, that was all that counted. Before my fear could claim my voice, I spoke.

Hello? I…uh…I heard you singing. It was beautiful…your voice, I mean. Of course, I don’t know if it was you singing, but well…was it?

Chapter 2

Irys

Nothing had changed for what must have been days. The dark, damp metal cell, walled on every side, left me with only a heavy wooden door and its small, barred window for company. For a while, I’d thought that I could hear the sounds of another girl weeping outside. Perhaps the sounds were my own echoing back to me. For hours, I’d been surrounded by silence. How different this silence felt from that of my former life.

Only once every cycle, is there a day in which one knows that everything is perfectly as it should be. Not long ago, I’d been certain that the Great Goddess had granted me one of those rare occasions. I’d been wrong.

I’d worn the lilac gown that had only just been unwrapped from among the dresses that Lord Imery Godeleva had ordered for me for the warm days that were to come. Through our carefully sculpted and meticulously maintained gardens, I’d made my way to the stone bench that was nestled among flowering bushes, in perfect view of the main fountain. It wouldn’t have been long before the space would be filled with the sights and sounds of the masked dancers and musicians attending the traditional Masque that Lord Imery held every cycle to launch the Hot Season.

Settling onto the bench, I’d arranged my ample skirt perfectly about me so that its purple ribbon had flowed freely behind me, and the luxurious silk fabric of the skirt had been displayed at its best. Only the very tips of my white boots had been visible.

I could enjoy the silence and the air, which was just warm enough to have allowed me to leave my shawl inside, and yet cool enough that my skin would never be made to glisten with moisture.

I’d opened my book – the latest in a series of volumes that Lord Imery had wished me to read – and had set about taking in its contents. As far back as I could recall, this was how things were. Nothing seemed to change. I’d been accustomed to the steady routine of the Godeleva household. While it had typically brought me comfort, the pendulum-like rhythm had now seemed to be counting down the days in which I could remain there. One day, I would marry and would have to leave this place where my heart was home.

On a perfect day such as that one, however, I could forget the curse of time. Well ensconced, I’d begun to lose myself in the words on the pages as the sun had come out from behind a fluffy white cloud. It had felt warm and natural on my skin, and the threat of a looming freckle had drawn me from the enchantment of the pages.

As I’d been about to reach down for my parasol, a shadow had fallen over me. I’d turned to find its source but had never made the discovery. A hand had grabbed my mouth, muffling my screams until a gag could replace it, and a bag of coarse fabric could be thrown over my head. I’d fought as well as I’d been able, wincing as I’d heard the sound of my book striking the ground, but my efforts had been of no use. I’d writhed against the cruel hands, but my captor had been prepared, and I hadn’t been.

My wrists and legs had soon been tied, and I’d been tossed over the back of a horse. Bouncing uncomfortably, painfully, terrified that I might fall, I’d felt the bruises forming on my arms and body.

I hadn’t fallen. Instead, I’d been shaken and bashed about until I’d succumbed to blessed blackness.

When I’d regained consciousness, the bag had been removed from my head, and the ropes that had bound my hands were gone. I’d tried to raise myself to sit, but an unimaginable agony had shot its way through my back. Only the sound of the cane had told me that I’d been whipped.

Curling into a ball, I’d heard myself crying out with each lash as though another girl had been screaming and there had been nothing that I could do to help her. I’d covered my ears with my hands to muffle the cracking sound of the cane striking my body. The anguish repeated until I’d become nearly numb to it, having sunken into myself and detached from the sensations of my body.

As if the torturer had known that his efforts were no longer causing the same degree of suffering, he’d stopped. Instead, a leather gloved hand had slapped me across the face, knocking me onto my back on the floor. I’d twisted as the bruised and welted flesh beneath my gown had collided against the rough surface.

What had followed was only laughter. It had started low and rumbling and had climbed to a full demonic cackle. I’d opened my eyes just enough to see the boots of the man moving toward the door, having caught only a glimpse of my captor as he’d left. A glimpse was all I’d needed to identify him.

It was a blessing that I’d been abandoned. I’d heard that to look into the face of Captain Galnar was to see your own torturous death. A tall, lanky man dressed completely in black, his waxen hair had been the only feature paler than his skin. His eyes – cruel and hate-filled – had been the crimson shade of blood. Only one glance had been made in my direction before the rusted hinges had cried and the latch had gagged into place. His had been the last face I’d seen. The last I’d thought I would ever see.

For a while, I had prayed for my freedom. Now, I begged for a merciful end.

Neither food nor water had been brought to me throughout my confinement. I’d tried to obtain as much moisture as I could from the walls around me, which had been ever in a state of clammy perspiration, but I’d doubted that I’d received enough to matter. I’d wondered how long a person could survive without food and water. Not much longer, I’d supposed. I’d stopped feeling hungry and was losing strength. A little more with each passing hour. Each time that I’d convinced myself that I could not become any weaker, I had.

Barely in control of my mind, I could only replay my capture, until the memory had become too vague and distorted to recognize. I could no longer tell what was real and what my semi-consciousness had fabricated on its own.

Was there ever a time when I had known why I was captured, why I was beaten, and why I was left in this cage to die? Had I known, at some point, but had since forgotten?

None of this made any sense. Captain Galnar was a madman, certainly, but could anyone be so senseless as to cross an entire world to capture a young woman of no great consequence, only to beat her and to abandon her?

When I had first arrived in this cell, I had drifted in and out of sleep and had dreamed of being endlessly interrogated. The strangest questions had been asked of me. I hadn’t known the answers.

Upon waking though, I’d known that it hadn’t been real. It had been merely the wanderings of my mind as I’d scraped for my own explanations. I could find none.

I pushed myself up to a kneeling position from having been curled on my side – a position which kept me off my stinging back – and shoved down the tattered and stained ruins of my lavender overskirt, which I had been using as a blanket. Crossing my hands over my heart, I shut my eyes and prayed.

Great and Merciful Goddess, I beg of you to hear my prayer. This may be the last time that I am able to speak with you as I know that my body is weakening, and my spirit is aching to join you.

I thank you, Great Goddess, for the life that you have given me. Thank you for bringing me to the Godeleva family and granting me such privilege. Thank you for the time that you gave me with Lady Godeleva before you called her to Paradise to keep her with you. Thank you for every moment that you have allowed me to share with Lord Imery as we were raised together and while he has kept me under his wing, since we have been on our own. Thank you for the books we have read, the papers we have written, the subjects we have studied, and for the place that you made in my heart for him now that he has grown into such a fine and handsome man.

I know that I have been begging you to save me, Great Goddess, and to spare me my life, but I am ready to join you now. I had wanted to live. I had wanted to return home.

It was not until this time of trial that I came to realize that all the gifts that you have given me were to prepare me to give back to your world and to your children in some way. Until now, I was content with the way that things were, and I did not want them to change. I have used your lesson to learn that I may not feel like anyone of importance, but that I can still make a difference in my own way, if only I open my eyes to a world outside of the one in which I have lived.

Thank you for teaching me this lesson, Great Goddess. Thank you for making me a person whom Lord Imery would call his Clever One. Please, Great Goddess, forgive me for not being clever enough to understand it all until it was too late to use it.

Take me into your arms, Great Goddess. Take me home to Paradise. I am ready.

I opened my eyes and half expected to see a mystical white light descending from above me, calling me to Paradise. For only the briefest moment, I could smell the lushness of the plant life that I had always imagined would make up the home of the Goddess.

Rapidly though, the vibrant perfume of life was replaced by the damp stink of rot. I would need to continue to wait. I sat back onto the floor, leaning my shoulder against the metal wall that nearly oozed with moisture.

It occurred to me that there was a time in which the sensation might have made me gag. That side of myself was already dead. All the prettiness that had once been a part of me had been replaced by fear, which was overcome by sadness, and which had now evolved into a trembling resignation.

Singing was the one thing that I could still do to bring myself solace. Music had always had the ability to help ease my suffering. I’d sung a great deal at home. I’d sung to myself and to Lord Imery. Sometimes, I’d played the harp to accompany myself. Learning such a graceful instrument had filled my heart with pride. I’d loved the feeling of adding something beautiful to a room.

I looked down at my shaking hands. There were no melodies left in those withered fingers.

I had nothing left but to sing. Any memory of the joyful tunes and heartfelt ballads I had once loved, were replaced by ancient dirges such as the one I now sang.

There I sat on the floor of my cell, leaning against the wall and resting my hands