A Time of Prophecy (The Outlands Pentalogy Book 5) Read online

  THE OUTLANDS PENTALOGY

  A Time of Prophecy

  Rebecca Crunden

  Copyright ©2019 Rebecca Crunden

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be duplicated in any form without the written permission of the author, except in cases of brief quotations for reviews.

  ISBN-10: 1098601033

  ISBN-13: 978-1098601034

  Edited by Meredith Anderson

  Cover Design by Rachel Bowdler

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  BR32

  INTRODUCTION

  The Girl and the Radiant

  More than twenty minutes of hiding had ticked by and it was clear no one was going to find her. Somehow, Elsa always managed to hide where none of the other children bothered to look – although sometimes it felt like they simply didn’t want to bother with her.

  There was no point waiting any longer and she climbed down from her perch, landing with a slightly dulled thud on the dusty ground. Clouds came up, tickling at her nose, and she sneezed twice before looking around.

  Struck with indecision, she scrubbed the muck from her hands and tried to decide what to do next. Alone. It made no sense that the others were more fun to play with than she was. After all, Elsa knew the entire layout of the Belows, the best places to hide, the best pranks to pull on their parents; she knew how to sneak into the factory and steal a month’s worth of sweets, and how to break into the projections and see reels for free. Yet, for some reason, no one picked her first. Whenever games were played or hijinks were discussed, her ideas were talked over and ignored.

  She was also the only one she knew without a best friend.

  Elsa tried to tell herself that she preferred it this way. None of the other children bothered to properly play hide and seek. They only went as far as the central tunnels, where there were absolutely no good hiding spots. They were afraid of dirt and critters, and got scared much sooner than she did. But it was still terribly disappointing.

  With a small sigh, she wandered down the dark tunnel in the opposite direction of home. The corridors of Brown Frost were ongoing, and though most of them were cordoned off, Elsa had long since found the open doors and crawl spaces where no one would think to look for a child. That was where all the best adventures started after all.

  The newer, shinier cities were the focus and the original sections were gone to seed. These forgotten sections, at least three hours’ walk from Elsa’s home, were deserted, but she liked the forgotten places most. The quiet places. The peaceful places.

  On a whim, she slipped through a door with a broken handle. While the corridors were dim, this room was devoid of light entirely.

  She turned her wristlight on and held it out before her. There was another door on the other side of the room, its handle also broken.

  Carefully closing the door behind her, Elsa tiptoed across the floor, disturbing the small creatures who had started to make it their home after the humans had vacated. She went through one door and then the next, so preoccupied with finding something new that she lost track of where she was going. Keeping her arm up, she squinted in the gloom and tried to make out the shapes on the ground to avoid tripping. She stepped carefully over fallen beams and broken shards of glass, pleased that the new boots her father had given her were so thick.

  Spiderwebs so expansive and dense she couldn’t see through them hung from the ceiling; a few spiders landed on her and she blew them off with a fond laugh. She’d never understood why Lewis was so afraid of spiders. Elsa found them rather harmless and entirely unfrightening. Their eyes fascinated her, and she often wondered if spiders were dizzy all the time from looking in so many directions. She liked flies, too, although the other children called her creepy for her interest in things that crawled, flitted and danced in the air. But to Elsa, spiders were whimsical, dangling on their webs; flies always looked like they were plotting something, rubbing their hands together whenever they landed. She also found rats adorable. Especially the fat ones. Something about seeing them waddle away always reduced her to giggles.

  Another door brought her into a new corridor. One she’d never seen before. At the other end, dusty tape stretched across the entrance to a stairwell that led up, up, up until she could no longer see it. Red rust coated the railing, and the steps were covered in dirt and rodent excrement.

  Curious, Elsa ducked beneath the tape and began the ascent, climbing higher and higher, her heart pounding in anticipation as she rounded one turn and then another.

  After climbing for what felt like hours, Elsa’s progress was impeded by a door. It was almost randomly placed, like it didn’t belong there. The stairs simply came to an abrupt stop. There was no landing, no hallway, nothing but a door positioned in front of the next step. The handle was shoved into the ‘lock’ position, but the metal was rusted and crumbling. Old, chipped paint across the door read: DANGER, DO NOT OPEN.

  Elsa smiled to herself. Adults always liked to tell them what to do for no reason at all. ‘Danger’ was, more often than not, what adults labelled the fun things they didn’t want children to try.

  She reached out and pulled down on the handle as hard as she could, using all the strength in her body to force the lock to bend to her will. At last, it shifted down. Taking a deep breath, she shoved against the door with all her might.

  The first shove sent pain through her body, but her curiosity outweighed the pain and she shoved again, harder. It took another two tries before a rush of cool air hit her in the face.

  A gasp of delight escaped her. Whatever was on the other side of the door, it smelled of something strange and wonderful, something she had never smelled before. It was impossible to describe. Sweet, almost.

  Light filtered in through the crack and Elsa held out her hand. The light from the lamps and luminaires looked nothing like this. It was pale, strong but not harsh. She shoved against the door once more and it eventually gave enough for her to slip through.

  Plants suddenly surrounded her, and the material of her coat caught on a thorny bush covered in red and yellow flowers, as beautiful as it was sharp and dangerous.

  She extricated herself and closed the door, not wanting anyone else to discover her secret just yet. Then, holding onto the rough brown limbs sticking out of the ground all around her, she picked her way carefully out of the dense thicket.

  When at last she reached the top of the mound that hid the door from view, she stared at the sight that greeted her.

  A jungle. She was in a jungle.

  Elsa had heard stories about jungles and forests, and seen paintings and depictions from old books, but she’d never seen a real one. Never breathed in the rich smells. Never felt the sunshine that filtered through the canopy to warm her skin.

  Cold, rain-scented wind kissed her face, and strange animal sounds so alien to her that she couldn’t have hoped to identify them in a thousand guesses reached her ears. She turned in a slow circle, laughter on her lips; it was like something from a dream. A beautiful world with plants, vines, trees and bushes spilling out from every direction, a thousand vivid colours littering the green.

  There were flowers in different colours, grasses several times taller than she was, trees that stretched far beyond her line of sight, moss on rocks that oozed wetness and musky smells. She saw flowers that ate insects, flying creatures with four sets of wings, lizards with three eyes, trees that were not only brown and green, but white and red or brown
and orange. The world they had been told was filled with dangers and death was bursting with beauty and life. She was so happy she wanted to cry.

  Elsa bent down and ran her fingers over the earth. In some places it looked like metal rust, in others like cooking chocolate. The grains were coarse and damp and smooth all at once.

  Plucking a small red flower from its stem and examining it, she carried on through the field until she reached an incline. She walked uphill and paused to catch her breath and admire the view. But she had only a second to take in the vast wonders when a snapping sound made her whirl around.

  The creature was small and four-legged, with paws like a dog, but its upper body was like the ponies that were kept on the lower levels of the city. It was unlike anything she’d ever seen.

  ‘Hallo there,’ she called in a soft voice. The animal cocked its head, clearly as curious about her as she was about it.

  Elsa held out her hand and walked towards it cautiously, not wanting the animal to run away. She’d frightened her father’s dog once by running at it excitedly, only to end up with a bite mark on her arm. Her father had told her afterwards that animals ought to always be approached with care because they didn’t know what humans wanted all the time, and it was arrogant to just assume.

  Elsa was still not entirely sure what ‘arrogant’ meant, but she understood her father’s meaning – don’t ever scare an animal – and had taken her time with animals ever since. After all, animals were often much nicer to her than people.

  The creature’s ears flicked back and forth, back and forth, but it did not move, and Elsa reached it a second later. She let it sniff her fingers and slowly ran her other hand over its flank.

  ‘What’s your name?’ she wondered, scratching it between the ears. ‘Everyone needs a name.’

  Its ears flicked back and forth twice more, and it nosed her shirt, searching for food.

  ‘What about Gal?’

  It butted her lightly in the stomach.

  ‘Not Gal, then,’ she agreed. ‘How about Lito? Franz? Carey?’

  The animal bobbed its head multiple times as if in agreement.

  ‘Carey it is,’ said Elsa, rubbing its neck. ‘That’s the name of one of the cooks. She’s really nice. But don’t worry, I won’t let her cook you.’

  Suddenly, Carey’s head snapped around and his body went stiff. Elsa followed Carey’s gaze towards the treeline, but she couldn’t see anything.

  ‘What is it?’

  Without warning, Carey turned and bolted into the trees. Elsa still couldn’t see anything, but she had a feeling Carey would not have run away if it were anything good.

  There were stories in the Belows, stories of monsters from above ground. Monsters with rotting flesh and insatiable appetites.

  Elsa looked around frantically. Just ahead was a tree with low hanging branches. She ran to it and started to climb. Higher and higher she went, until she reached the topmost branches of the canopy. Ducking low, she clung tightly to the tree limbs, squinting down at the forest floor.

  It did not take long for the monster to appear.

  A great hulking thing, it was the size of some of the smaller trees around her but lopsided, with flesh falling off its face.

  Elsa gasped in horror.

  The monster looked up, bearing its yellowy teeth, beady eyes fixing upon her. With a roar, it began to move.

  Terrified, Elsa scrambled across the branch onto the adjacent tree and climbed as high as she could before scurrying to the next one, and then the next. She had years of experience climbing the rafters, walls, crawl spaces, luminaires, jungle gyms, electrical wires and aught else in her unending escapades. The child minder once found her hanging upside down from a broken water pipe in one of her more exciting adventures. Even still, climbing trees was a new experience. The bark was damp and sometimes slick.

  The monster followed her, smashing a great club against the trees, shaking them so violently she lost her footing more than once. The third time, her shoe fell off, but she kept going.

  Small creatures who sought shelter in the canopy copied her actions, darting from tree to tree, fleeing from the great beast. They had nothing to fear, however, for the monster had eyes only for Elsa, and she knew for a fact that it was hungry.

  On and on she climbed, until her hands were scratched and blistered and bleeding. Yet still the monster did not cease its pursuit.

  A loud crack shattered across the skies and Elsa looked up, heart slamming in her chest. This new world was so loud and terrifying. No wonder the adults told them never to explore the areas out of bounds.

  As Elsa reached out for the next branch, another horrible cracking sound thundered overhead. Water began to pour down from the skies, trickling through the leaves and making it hard to keep her grip.

  She slipped, lost her balance, and fell.

  Down, down, down.

  With a horrible thunk, she hit the forest floor. The wind whooshed out of her lungs and her vision swam.

  Gasping and choking, Elsa had only a second to realise the monster was standing over her before something leapt between them.

  Elsa scrambled backwards, taking in the new arrival now battling the monster. His long limbs reminded her of Ada, the tallest woman she had ever seen. He had chestnut hair, honey coloured skin, and made fighting look like a learned artform.

  He cut the heels of the monster and sent it to its knees without suffering a single scratch. Then, in a graceful motion, he drove a long spear through the monster’s back.

  The monster groaned, shuddered, and was dead.

  The tall stranger turned towards her and she saw that his eyes were entirely amber, strange and beautiful at the same time; a colour Elsa had never seen before.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, standing up slowly, wincing as the bruises on her back and legs made themselves known. But she straightened up to her fullest height and forced her hands not to shake. Now that the monster was dead, she didn’t want the stranger to think she was childish. Adults always disregarded children with excuses like that. She didn’t want the stranger to do the same with her.

  He cocked his head and said something Elsa did not understand.

  ‘Do you not speak Bellish?’ she asked. It was a pointless question as it was clear he couldn’t. ‘That’s all right.’ She pointed to her chest. ‘Elsa.’

  ‘Eelsya?’ he tried.

  Elsa giggled. ‘El-sa,’ she said more clearly. ‘My name is Elsa.’

  ‘Ilsa?’

  ‘Better.’

  He bowed his head, seeming to understand if not translate. ‘Amit,’ he said, pointing to his chest.

  ‘Ahmet?’

  ‘Aa-mit.’

  ‘Amet?’

  Amit laughed. It was a low and melodic sound.

  She held out her hand. ‘Nice to meet you.’

  Amit copied her actions, but the instant their fingers touched, he pulled back sharply, hissing in pain.

  ‘Oh! What happened?’ Elsa moved towards him, concerned. ‘Are you all right?’

  He held up his hand, the tips of his fingers badly burned, like she’d poured boiling oil on them.

  ‘I am so sorry!’ Elsa put a hand over her heart. ‘I didn’t mean to!’

  Amit said something else she did not understand, but he gave her a reassuring smile and shook his head as if to say that he was all right.

  The rain was coming down more quickly now, though Elsa paid it little mind. She walked over to the bushes on the ground and plucked a small white flower. Holding the end of the stem carefully, she dropped it into Amit’s palm with an apologetic smile.

  ‘I don’t know why that happened,’ she said sincerely. ‘I’m really sorry.’

  He smiled and put the flower in his belt beside a long sword. He then whistled long and low.

  From the trees came a rustling sound, and suddenly a large brown pony appeared. It didn’t look like the ones in the Belows. Its black mane stuck straight up, a stark contrast to its light dun
colour. The pony nickered and walked over to Amit, nudging him affectionately. Elsa reached out and patted its neck.

  ‘Ferus,’ said Amit, pointing at the pony, who huffed in response. He said something else Elsa could not decipher, but his hand gestures were enough of a clue that he was asking if she wanted to come with him or if she had some place else to go.

  Filled with curious delight, Elsa grabbed hold of the pony’s mane and pulled herself up. Amit removed his thick, brown cloak and held it gingerly out to her. She wrapped it over her shoulders, still not sure why her touch harmed him, but not wanting it to happen again.

  Amit mounted behind her, certain to keep a safe enough distance so as not to be burned again, and he clucked at Ferus to start walking.

  As they made their way through the forest, Elsa forgot about her anger and bitterness at the other children, and all about the terror of running from the monster; nor did she think about the worry that might befall her parents when she did not return for dinner. All she could think about was how exciting this new adventure was, and how she never wanted to go back below the ground where everything smelled stale and she had no friends. Here, everything seemed better, more exciting, magical even. New adventures abounded.

  Elsa glanced back at Amit. ‘You’re much better than the secret passages I found last time.’

  Amit smiled without understanding.

  The forest eventually gave way to a vast field with grasses taller than Ferus in places, the stems brushing against their arms as they went.

  Elsa reached out, running her fingers from stem to stem, giddy with delight.

  How very wonderful it was to be above ground.

  VOLUME ONE

  AR130

  PART ONE

  Quickening

  You know what I do to those who hurt my family.

  The threat replayed over and over in Thom’s mind as he watched the horizon swallow the hover carrying his best friend and former Complement, Kitty. In a matter of minutes, a trip to the river had ended in arrest. An arrest that shouldn’t have happened in a land with no laws. But it seemed there was no way to be truly free of the lives they’d left behind.