Hidden: The Hidden Saga, #1

By Serina Hartwell

After standing up to a school bully, Bronte Hughes's life shatters… along with her reality. 

 

A single act leads to a near-fatal accident, which sets closely guarded wheels in motion, leading her to fall for her best friend, Riley. But when he leaves her, she realises her world isn't flawless. With everything unravelling around her, the cracks begin to appear. Added to this are the powers she cannot control; wild magic she is not sure she wants in her life. She is an outcast, torn between her need to reconnect with Riley and the overwhelming desire to hide from the world.

 

Join Bronte's journey of self-discovery, where she learns a dark secret, her family has worked so hard to conceal from her. Will it save her life... or destroy it forever?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Serina Hartwell
• Release date: Oct 25, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201343521

Book preview

Prologue

Step by step, the old man gently carried his granddaughter up the stairs to bed; her head laying heavy with sleep against his shoulder. He was a man of great stature, whose body had softened over time, but still enough definition remained to indicate his former physique. His sturdy arms gently holding her close to him as he carried his precious cargo. His solid frame softening as he climbed, cushioning the movement made with every step. It was clear to Mr Salvador that his granddaughter was tired as his deep brown eyes, framed by his wavy silver hair and dark skin, smiled at the toddler cradled in his arms, but still she looked at him expectantly, fighting sleep. He emanated love for this little girl, who had stolen his heart the day she was born. This time was special to them both and he never grew tired of her need for his ritual storytelling. Mr Salvador gently lowered himself into the rocking chair in the corner of the room with Bronte huddled into his curves and took a deep breath to ready himself. Her eyes were heavy, fighting to stay awake in the warm light from the lamp beside them, but she knew he was ready to begin and fought sleep for as long as she could.

Once upon a time, he began with a gentle Spanish accent, there was a beautiful princess who lived in a faraway land.

Bronte’s eyes widened as she temporarily won her battle with sleep. What colour was her hair grandpa? 

Her hair was as red as fire, he continued. Smiling a satisfied smile, Bronte settled back into him, listening to his great authoritative voice mellow, to gently relay the story to her, as she relaxed.

"Her eyes were as crystal clear as the blue waters of the ocean, and her beauty was second to none. Adored by her people, she was greatly sought after, for she was as fair in nature as her beauty, which preceded her.

One day a convoy arrived at the palace. A noble family from the North brought their son Etharoe to be presented to the King as his new Captain of the Guards. He caught Bayer’s eye and they soon fell in love.

Etharoe was handsome and strong, and proved himself a worthy suitor to the princess. The news of their love spread throughout the kingdom, and the people rejoiced at the announcement of their marriage. The princess was so happy that the crops in the fields soon doubled their yield, leaving the people of the kingdom overjoyed.

Then one day, a second convoy arrived in the kingdom from the South. King Luthruk the mighty ruler, brought his son to the kingdom and a veil of darkness fell. His son Narrel, taken by the princess’s beauty, fell in love with her immediately. Luthruk declared that unless Bayer and Narrel be married instead, he would go to war with King Marinez - ruler of the lands.

Darkness closed in on the kingdom. King Marinez knew that his daughter was in love with Etharoe and knew she could never love Narrel. He was torn between the good of the kingdom and his daughter’s future, but he knew Etharoe would die before he would let anything happen to Bayer, so with a heavy heart he decided to hide them. He had many loyal to him, so he sent the princess to a far-off land with his closest allies. In this place of sanctuary, they would find hope and live happily together for the rest of their lives. The End."

The moment his soothing Spanish tones finished telling the story, the same story he had told her a hundred times before, she sprung to life. Oh, again grandpa, again, she appealed in her tired little voice. 

Maybe tomorrow my child, you must rest now. Look at those heavy eyes Bronte, He chuckled to himself, lifting her up to carry her to her bed. The tiny girl in his arms looked pleadingly at him with her huge brown eyes.

I’m not tired, She yawned, climbing under the covers.

Mr Salvador pulled her blankets over her as she settled onto her side and allowed her eyes to slowly surrender. Hush now my child, you must offer yourself to the land of sleep now, he said, gently stroking her golden-brown ringlets, which caught the light. The embodiment of beauty, swathed in the infant before him, filled his heart with love. It melted while he watched his tiny granddaughter escape the land of consciousness. Goodnight, my tiny princess – goodnight.

Quietly, he stood up and crept over to the door to watch her drift off in her bed, when suddenly he felt a sharp pain in his chest. Pulling his left arm in tight to him, he braced himself, while the wave of excruciating pain came over him, steadily growing in intensity. Mr Salvador’s face tightened and darkened to a shade of bright red before paling. Gasping for air, he couldn’t breathe, his lips blueing the longer the trauma continued. Bronte stirred in her bed as he involuntarily leaned against her bedroom wall with a thud. Beads of sweat formed across his brow and top lip, gasping for air, it slowly began to subside.

Releasing his arm, he breathed fast and heavily, allowing it to drop to his side, while he rubbed his chest hard. His heart beating hard and fast, he knew it wasn’t over. There was something wrong. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a handkerchief to mop his brow. Again, his chest tightening, he knew he was in trouble; breath was taken from him as if he had been winded, and his arm pulled back toward his chest. Watching Bronte sleep through all the noise, he waited until he could move again. Taking one last look at her, he slipped outside the room and staggered across the landing.

WERDER! he screamed, reaching the top of the stairs. WERDER! HELP ME! He started to slowly descend them when his legs gave out. Tumbling down the remaining steps, he landed in a heap at the bottom. Mrs Salvador heard the heavy thud and came running.

Roberto! Roberto! Oh, my dear God, Roberto! she screamed, rushing toward his sunken form. Lifting his head into her arms as he lay there helpless, Oh, my husband, what happened?

It’s my heart. My human body is giving out, the line is being severed in the kingdom. They attack me in my chambers.

What shall I do Roberto?

You must stay and protect her, at all costs. She must remain here – hidden.

But you can’t leave me! You have to fight to stay with me. I can’t do this alone!

You must... You must...

Mr Salvador’s body heaved one last time and he died in her arms at the bottom of the stairs. Mrs Salvador pulled his limp body close to her, and cried hard into his lifeless body, while Bronte slept upstairs.

King Marinez’s castle - Lertainia

PENCISS’S EYES OPENED sharply, automatically raising his arms up to protect himself from the assassin who attacked him in his chambers. Fighting for his life, hands clasped around his neck, working themselves tighter, he reached out to grapple with his assailant, but they were too strong; his life force was beginning to wane. Penciss reached out with all his remaining might to grab his concealed dagger from his nightstand. Inching toward it, knowing that an intruder would not be aware of it, he fought desperately for his life. He had to reach it before it was too late. His body thrashing involuntarily, he was fighting to stay alive. His fingers finally making purchase on the dagger’s handle, he gripped it with all his might. Looking his assassin in the eye as he drew the dagger from the ornamentation of the stand, he thrust it into his side.

The assassin immediately released his grip from around Penciss’s neck, giving him the relief, he was looking for. Kicking his attacker with all the strength he had left, he watched him tumble to the floor. The masked intruder falling on the dagger, forced it home.

Penciss choked, rubbing his throat as he rolled onto his side. Regaining a little strength, he swung his legs around, gasping all the while. He was exhausted. Sliding off the bed, he stumbled over to the body on the floor; his head spinning as he fought for more air. Hearing the heavy footfall of the guards running toward his chambers brought relief. The door burst open, as they forced their way through. Sire! Are you alright? The first guard called, as he entered, closely followed by King Marinez. They looked on, stunned at what they saw.

Seize him! he choked out his command, pointing to the body on the floor. The alarm bell rang throughout the kingdom. Instantly alerted to danger, the kingdom came alive. The guards surrounded the body on the floor as it bled out, pooling all around him. King Marinez stooped to take a closer look. Turning the body over sharply, he pulled off the man’s hood, revealing his face. Patoregian! he said to himself, the man close to death, stirred. How did you get into my castle? King Marinez demanded. Who let you in? He knew now that he had enemies within the castle walls, but who? Grabbing the man’s body by his clothes, he shook him hard, demanding the information he needed. The assassin looked at him, his face paling as he spoke, he was fading fast. Tell me! he roared, Tell me who has betrayed me! the king commanded.

Your enemy stands close to you... by your side... His breath cut short as his mouth filled with fresh blood; his body finally went limp as death took him.

King Marinez, stunned by what he had just heard, looked toward Penciss, then up at his men, looking from face to face as he knelt beside the assailant’s body on his chamber floor.

Chapter 1 

Ten Years Later

LIGHT PEPPERED THE ground through the leaves of the cherry tree, it was a hot, hazy afternoon. Children’s laughter could be heard in the distance and the chatter of neighbours putting the world to rights, their voices carrying on the dead air with remote, dull undertones. It was the summer break and Alfie, the local tomcat, lay outstretched in the midday sun in an ecstasy of slumber, too hot to bother about the birds, they sang their joyful song overhead.

They seemed to have all the energy in the world, flying close enough to taunt him, but he was too far gone into his dreamy world to bother with efforts such as chasing birds. Alfie was a champion amongst champions at this sport. He caught birds by the dozen, depositing them on various doorsteps around the neighbourhood as little gifts, but not today. Today, they had a reprieve; a mere twitch of the tail is all he could muster to register his annoyance. He was lost to slumber, at least while the sun cast its warm, soothing rays in his direction, keeping him under its spell.

The sound of vehicles carried without resistance through the dry air, their tinny drone relayed across the valley as they went about their business on the newly built bypass over a mile away. The summer had been hot this year and the local kids wore themselves stupid, lapping up every ounce of sun before the holidays ended.

Riley was digging in his mother’s garden. Dust filled the air with every shovelful. It had been several weeks since the last substantial rainfall and the plants were starting to wither, despite his mum keeping up the relentless task of watering them. ‘Can’t let them plants go to waste – cost me a fortune, they did, down at that local greengrocers. He saw me comin’. Sure, he put the damn prices up when he saw it was me.’

Riley’s mum had a bit of a to-do with Old Man Fletcher years ago when he’d overheard her complaining about the quality of his veg. ‘He was an expert at bearing a grudge. Would ‘ave got a degree in it if he could.’ Mum would say on a regular basis. His mother’s words rang in his ears.

Riley was in trouble with his mother. She knew that grounding him didn’t work and had decided to give up on that, years ago, so here he was, doing his most hated chore - gardening. His mother made him weed the flower beds, mow the lawn, feed the whole garden, and plant her new plants. Beside himself with boredom, all he wanted to do was go out with his friends on an afternoon like this. Sitting on the lawn digging around the plants in his mother’s border, he lifted the soil, letting it fall back to the ground. He was hot, choking on the dust that filled the air, but it elevated the boredom. 

Still diggin’ your way to Australia, I see, Bronte said, slowly sneaking up on him from behind. She had stealthily worked her way along the lane, which ran along the back of the houses and managed to make him jump. He was heavily engrossed in his new project of creating a reservoir amongst the plants, ready for when the rain finally did come. Bronte could tell he was fed-up. 

Geeze, what’d you want to go and do that for? I nearly died!

Bronte laughed so hard that she began to get a stitch. That’s why – you should see the look on your face. I get you every time, she said, pointing. She was right and Riley knew it, he had never known anyone else who could do that to him. Usually he could sense them, but Bronte somehow had the knack for getting under his radar. He looked at her; his face reddening more and more by the second.

Your mum finally got you putting in her prized flowers then? Bronte asked, in a slightly calmer tone.

Riley looked at her, subdued. This is instead of a grounding.

Bronte rolled her eyes, what did you do now? She smiled down at him, already knowing the answer.

I was late home again. He shrugged and continued digging half-heartedly.

Why do you do it then?

’Cause you know what it’s like when all your friends are allowed to stay out late, and you’re the only one who has to come in early, because of your mum. It’s embarrassing. Bronte nodded slightly in agreement. I told her I needed some independence. I’m old enough to be staying out later. All my friends do.

What did your mum say? Bronte leaned in closer, looking at him in anticipation.

Riley’s face distorted into a mock impression of his mother. She said, ‘not while I’m your mother! You’ll come in when I say and that’s that!’ 

So, how come you’re digging up her garden?

Well, mum realised a long time ago that it was pointless grounding me because I always escape.

What? Bronte exclaimed, frowning, she was surprised by this. How could she not know this about her best friend?

Riley smiled, continuing. Yep, she called me the Houdini of modern times.

Who’s Houdini? Bronte asked, intrigued.

Mum says he was a magician from ages ago who could escape from anything. Bronte looked satisfied. She said ‘I was him born again,’ she simply couldn’t keep me in; I’d always find a way out. She said, ‘if it didn’t frustrate her so much, she would call me gifted.’ So, I’m here doing gardening. Mum says, ‘at least here she can keep an eye on me.’ I hate it and she knows it. Riley threw his trowel against the hard, parched earth and looked up at Bronte.

So, what did your dad say?

Riley’s voice changed to fit each character as he told his story. Nothing, dad overruled her and said, ‘the boy plays out longer. It’s about time you let the boy breathe and cut him some slack!’ He told her to stop mollycoddling me!

What did your mum say to that? Bronte asked, with a look of shock on her face at his outburst. Riley’s mother was a little too overprotective, always doting on him. He was definitely a mummy’s boy.

There wasn’t a lot she could say really. Dad had spoken, Riley said, in his father’s mimicked tone. In the end she said, I could play out longer; as long as I didn’t go anywhere near the river, or the old mill and I did the gardening.

And here you are. Bronte started laughing at Riley’s impressions, which were spot-on; her laughter was so infectious that they laughed for ages. Every time one of them stopped and looked at the other, the giddiness would rise in them, and they would start again, bringing on another bout of hysteria.

Yeah, but at least I get to stay out later, after this.

I would have loved to be a fly on the wall, Bronte said, red faced, tears still rolling down her cheeks. The two of them were in hysterics when Regan walked along the back lane, past the end of Riley’s garden with Bronte’s ex friend, Lucy.

Regan was one of the most competitive girls Bronte had ever met in her short life.  Even at her age, she was allowed to wear make-up and go to town on her own.  Regan was new to their school. Since starting, she had dated nearly every popular boy in their class and stolen Bronte’s friend Lucy, just because she could. Bronte didn’t blame Lucy; not really, she was too weak to stand-up to Regan, who bossed her around shamelessly.

What you laughing at? Regan asked, with a snide look on her face.

Nothing. Riley barked, cutting her dead and looking back at Bronte.

Let’s leave them alone, Lucy said quietly to Regan, with an air of pleading in her tone.

Regan ignored her; she saw Riley’s response as a challenge and was going nowhere. Discounting Lucy’s request as insignificant, she continued. Come on, if it’s so great why don’t you let us in on it? Regan retorted. Lucy stood slightly behind Regan looking more than a little uncomfortable.

I said, I’m not telling you. It’s private! Riley exclaimed.

It couldn’t ‘ave been that good, or you’d let us in on it. Regan persisted, now anxious to know what the big joke was.

There was no way that Riley was going to tell Regan what they had just been talking about. He knew she would use whatever he said against him at some point in the future. Riley and Bronte looked at the pair towering above them, purposefully blocking out the light. Bronte felt that even their shadows tried to be overpowering as they encompassed the two of them. When Regan couldn’t get a rise from them, she tried a different tack. Regan looked Lucy in the eye, prompting her for support with where she was going next.

Well, look at the little boy doing his chores in the garden. Doing it for your mummy, are you? she spat at Riley, pacing backward and forward. That’s what babies do! she whined in a high-pitched voice, turning toward Lucy.

Yeah! Lucy finally spoke up, still looking rather uncomfortable but knowing that Regan was invested.

Hey, leave him alone! Bronte cried with thunderous tones that surpassed them all.

Oh, it speaks then, thought the cat had got your tongue! Regan turned to Lucy laughing an insidious laugh. Lucy responded with a snigger and looked away gutlessly, not daring to make eye contact with Bronte. Look, it’s lying over there full to the brim ‘cause it’s got its big fat tongue, which fits in that big fat mouth of hers. Regan had her hands on her hips, leaning forward to get as much of her weight behind her insult as possible.

Riley stood-up with a look of thunder on his face. Look, I told you to leave her alone!

Bronte had endured as much as she could take. Clambering to her feet in a single motion; she had bitten and was more than just a little angry. What do you want Regan? You already have one of my best friends, she said, looking at Lucy. What more do you want? We don’t like you, and you know that, so what are you doing here? Bronte was red-faced, just managing to keep her composure.

There’s always room for another of your friends, Regan said, looking at Riley. Riley bit his tongue but his screwed-up face said it all, screaming as if! Regan turned to Lucy, shielding her mouth with her hand, and said in a loud whisper, she only hangs around with boys ‘cause none of the girls like her.

Bronte launched herself forward with her fists ready for a fight and found herself being hauled back by Riley. Riley was young, but he was still stronger than Bronte; not by much under the circumstances, but enough; an accolade of being a boy. He was using all his might to restrain her and struggling. Increasing his grip, he turned Bronte, putting himself between the two feuding parties. You know why the girls don’t like me; it’s because of you! Bronte screamed from behind him pointing her finger in Regan’s direction.

What Regan lacked in years; she did not lack in prowess. She had terrorised the other girls and driven them away from Bronte one by one. They watched how she alienated Bronte and didn’t want to end up the same way, but what Regan didn't realise was that Bronte still had some allies. There were some, who although they didn’t want to end up in the spotlight themselves, they still couldn’t turn their backs on their friend. They would keep a low profile when Regan was around but still managed to convey their friendship privately. Bronte knew this, and didn’t want to expose her true friends, so she bit her tongue.

Yes, and that’s how it’s gonna stay, so get used to it. Regan snapped.

Riley needed to stop this getting out of hand. He could feel the beginnings of a fight. If you don’t go away now, I’m getting my mum and if you don’t leave Bronte alone, I’m gonna tell her grandma over you. Riley hoped this would be enough to get rid of them, but he was wrong.

Regan came back with her worst attack yet. That’s it; you go running to your mummy like a baby. Always knew you two were cowards!

Yeah, you’re both babies just like Regan said. That’s why I stopped being your friend because you both need to run to your mummies. Lucy echoed from behind Regan.

What do you mean cowards? Bronte screamed back, her pride taking a hit.

We’re not cowards! Riley retorted.

Well, prove it then. Regan knew she had them now. This is what she had wanted all along.

What do you mean? Bronte asked.

Well, to prove you’re not cowards, you have to do a dare. Regan taunted.

What kind of dare? Riley asked.

I dare you to meet me tonight at 6pm down by the river. Regan conveyed with her darkest look. She was enjoying every moment.

And you better not be late, chimed Lucy, or you’ll forfeit the dare!

But I’m not allowed by the river. Riley responded quietly, turning to look at Bronte. He had a worried look on his face, knowing full well that this was the biggest part of his agreement with his mother. Bronte’s heart missed a beat; she knew they couldn’t do what Regan was asking of them without breaking rules and that meant trouble, especially with Riley’s mum. Regan was pure evil.

We don’t have to do that to be brave, Bronte said, looking straight into Riley’s eyes, but angling her voice for Regan and Lucy’s benefit.

What are you, chicken? Regan and Lucy began flapping their arms and making chicken noises, while turning in tight circles where they stood.

But we’re not chickens, Riley said, with a slight quiver in his voice.

No, we’re not! Bronte shouted, I’ll be there!

No, the dare is for both of you, not just one of you. Regan taunted.

I’ll be there too, Riley said, submissively.

What? I can’t hear you. Can you hear them, Lucy? Regan taunted.

No, can’t hear a thing, Lucy replied, cupping her ear.

We’ll be there! Riley said, louder.

What? You don’t have to go, Bronte said, turning toward Riley with a look of concern, knowing how much trouble he would be in if he got caught.

Riley turned his back on the girls and Bronte followed his lead. They huddled, talking quietly, I don’t want you going on your own.

I’ll be okay, Bronte said, worried for her friend. Riley turned back to the girls.

So, what’s it to be then? Are you going to meet us by the river at 6 o’clock or not? Regan asked, in an acidic tone.

We’ll be there! Riley said with his head held high, determination set on his face. Regan had hurt his pride and he had risen to the challenge. He needed to look strong even if he was quivering inside.

What? I thought I just heard you say that you’d be there tonight, Lucy said, sniggering with a sudden burst of confidence.

Yes, that’s right, now go away and leave us alone. You’ve got what you came for! Riley shouted, taking a step toward the girls, his body tightening with his bravery; he had finally stood up to them, but he knew there would be a price. Bronte could hear his father in his tone. Regan knew she had got what she had come for and turned toward Lucy. They took a conspiring look at one another and left.

Don’t forget, 6pm by the river, Regan shouted over her shoulder, leaving.

Bronte and Riley watched the girls walk away, up the lane and out of sight. They’re trouble, those two, Riley said, sitting back down on the ground. Bronte sat next to him with a look of foreboding on her face.

Riley’s mum came out into the garden when she saw the girls, who had been hanging around the gate, leave. Everything alright, love? she called, down the garden from the house.

Yes, mum, Riley replied, a little too tensely.

Who were those girls, hanging around? she asked, frowning, trying to get a better look at them as they walked away. Riley saw the look of concern on her face. She must have seen more than he realised.

They are just girls from school, Riley replied, wishing this inquisition would end soon.

Isn’t one of them Lucy Wade? she enquired, straining for a better look.

Yes, mum. Riley knew he didn’t want to get into a confrontation with his mum after already being in so much trouble, so he didn’t look at her. He kept his head down trying to look busy, knowing that he would need to ask her for time off for good behaviour later. She seemed satisfied with this, as Lucy was the daughter of a close friend.

I don’t like the look of that girl that Lucy is hanging around with, she said, scrunching up her nose in a sign of distaste. There was no kidding his mother, she was very perceptive. Are you staying for tea, Bronte? she asked, on a lighter note.

Erm, no thank you Mrs O’Brien. My grandma is expecting me home for tea soon. Bronte tried to look as ordinary as possible, but her insides were churning at the prospect of what they had gotten themselves into.

Ok then, Riley’s mum said, turning to check on how dry her washing was. Feeling each item, Mrs O’Brien worked herself along the washing line, back to the house until she disappeared inside.

Bronte turned to Riley as he huddled over the flower beds. You didn’t have to do that, you know. Up until now they’ve only been interested in me; now they’ll be after you as well. Bronte’s face was sullen. You don’t have to come with me tonight; you know you’ll only get into trouble with your parents if you go anywhere near the river.

I know, but I can’t let you go on your own no matter how much trouble I’m likely to get into if we get caught. Riley’s expression was intense. Bronte didn’t pursue it any further. She knew he was being driven by guilt and felt bad about that. Why did things have to be so complicated?

What do you think she wants us to do at the river? Riley asked.

I don’t know, but I don’t want her making any more trouble for me at school. I’m already in enough trouble as it is.

Yes, but she is growing into a right battle axe, Riley replied, breaking the tension, laughing. Bronte laughed with him until it fizzled out.

What shall we tell our parents? Bronte asked, looking at Riley who had his head down; he had resumed his digging, chipping away at a new bit of crusty soil.

Well, I’ll tell mum that I’m going to play over at your grandma’s house, and you tell your grandma that you are coming over here to play at mine.

Alright. I’d better get back – I’ll see you later, by Old Nelson. Okay? Bronte looked at Riley for confirmation. Riley finally looked up and nodded. 

Chapter 2

It was approaching 6pm and the sun’s rays were blazing as the last of the day’s sunshine was being expelled before twilight came. Old Nelson was a tree overshadowing the river; his leaves dappled the summer evening sunlight, which danced on the calm waters of the river below. A gentle breeze brushed past him as it journeyed toward the horizon. He had stood the test of time; some said he was older than the dilapidated Farrow’s mill, which stood on the outskirts of the village, further up the river.

Children would play kiss-chase around his mammoth trunk. To them, he was an ancient giant who held them safe with his enormous branches, which they would tie a rope to and swing out over the river. Old Nelson felt like their guardian. No one could put an age to him; he stood proud and timeless. He had survived every storm that nature could throw at him, the builders who decided to build a new estate near grandma’s house and the town planners, when they had originally decided to run the bypass over the river taking him with it. He had become THEIR tree and hung on, while the whole village campaigned to keep him. Old Nelson, someone had nicknamed him after the Admiral that day. They said Old Nelson was a fighter like him, and that he would see us all out. Eventually, he had won his fight; standing victorious as they re-routed the bypass to accommodate him. 

The river’s at its lowest it’s been in years. If you fall off that swing, you’ll know about it! Marcy exclaimed. Marcy Holmes and Kelsey Wells were Bronte’s other best friends. Although they always tried to stay neutral,