Echoes from the Lost Ones (27 page)

Atyhtan let out a raspy moan and stood beside Ryce, who’s face turned all pasty when he saw the look of fear in his pal’s eyes. He turned to Eadgard and said all wobble-voiced, “Do not let her do this.”

I smirked and put my hands behind my back. “Go now, my friends, I am about to begin.’

Eadgard and Kendra took the Abbot by the arms and led him away. Wirt gave me a heartfelt nod and gestured for Bestanden, the Woodsfolk and the Holy’s to follow him to a safe distance. Marcellus smiled, put his hands over his ears and stood by my side. I tried to push him away, but he shook his head and stared at the two males that huddled close to each other.
 

“Sing, Adara,” my most special Marcellus, said.
 

I stood tall, then took a deep breath.

Ryce raised his hands and pressed them together as if about to say a prayer. “Adara, I beg some sort of mercy.” He turned to his scheming chum. “Atyhtan, do something. Make that noise that makes folk fall down in pain.”

The once Brother Jude shook his head and pointed at his throat. I saw bruising around his larynx and surmised he had tried some sound to floor Bestanden and his kin. It was clear that they had stopped him from warbling mean with a well-placed squeeze.
 

Ryce began to shake and I swear I saw tears roll down his cheeks. I stared into their big round eyes, unmoved by the look of dread I saw in them and spoke, “I cannot allow you to do more harm.”
 

I swallowed in more than enough air for my purposes, opened my mouth and directed the sound that gushed from it, right into their ears alone. I sang a note, then two and more. Rising, falling trilling and bending notes until blood ran freely from their ears and nose. Ryce crawled towards me. I stopped for a sec and he spoke through bubbles of froth. “Cease, and I will tell you more of what we talked of earlier.”

“No tricks?”

“None.”

“Then speak.”

He gasped and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Meeks are fashioned, not miracles. Each mother,” he paused to draw in breath and continued in staggered sentences, “mother’s wombs…used…unaware…they gave birth to…”

He coughed and grabbed my leg. Then opened his gob ready to spill more, but was unable to. Marcellus pounced upon him and yanked him from his prone position. He flung him hard against the floor and quick as a snap of the fingers, he grabbed his head and turned it sharp and swift. The Carnie fell limp and lifeless. Marcellus stepped over his bod and took my hand.

“He harm, Adara?”

“What have you done?”

“He attack, we stop.”

I wanted to scold my pal, to say that this nasty Carnie was about to divulge a secret. A humungous fact that all must know. But the look of dote upon his face when he glanced at me, made all thoughts except for those of reciprocal pash, vanish. I gave him a smile instead.

Wirt stared down at the pitiful sight of the fraudulent scum lying contorted on the floor, and pointed at the other Agro spy. His eyes narrowed and his lips thinned as he spoke in a voice full of hate. “Will ye not continue yer song, Adara?”

I stared at Atyhtan. He squatted on the ground, his arms around his knees, rocking back and forth. Marcellus touched my shoulder and gave me a look so tender and full of devotion that I near fainted with the force of it. I gulped and put my hand on his. He lifted it to his lips, kissed my knuckles and said, “Powerful and wise. Sing again, put end to this vile creature.”

A pathetic moan rose from Atyhtan’s lips and I turned my attention to the huddled up Carnie. I remembered his scolding when I spilled about sending forth the raptors to maim those at the Nearly camp. I remembered his teachings. How it felt to control my voice and send its force to deliver good as well as bad.
 

“Put the wretched thing out of its misery, my dear.” The words Kendra spoke were fierce, but delivered with compassion. “For his own sake as well as ours.” She stood by the Abbot, who, on hearing her words, placed his hand over her arm.
 

“No. No more murders. This is a house of God. I will not see further acts of brutality,” he said and glared at Marcellus.

“Do not admonish our friend. Truth be told I was but a moth wing away from doing what he did first. I do not hold with unnecessary acts of violence Abbot, but I, like Marcellus, am convinced that Adara was most likely in danger form this male.”

“I too echo this Backpacker’s words. I would hae brought down my club just as quick,” Bestanden said and stood next to Eadgard by way of emphasising his resolve.

The Abbot shook his head all slow and released Kendra. She stood by Atyhtan and spoke. “He is a danger to us all, Abbot. We cannot let him prevail.”

“I will not allow harm to come to him. I will not!” The Abbot went all red-faced and marched over to the trembling Carnie. He stood before him and said, “Enough bloodshed.”

 
Bestanden whistled through his teeth. “To my way of thinking, Abbot, the bloodshed has nae even begun.”
 

“Time for talk gone. We take cowering fake monk outside god house so will not offend,” Marcellus said and moved towards the Abbot.

“Stop,” I said. All turned. “The Abbot is right. Atyhtan must not be harmed.”

“Wha? Nay Adara, ye cannot let the Carnie live. He will betray and worse.”

“That I know. Wirt, Abbot, all, move away from Atyhtan.”

All did except for the Abbot. “What are you going to do?”

“I am merely going to sing a lullaby. A tune I heard when I was but a bub. Sung to me from my mam’s lips, to make my mind all empty-like so that I could fall asleep and dream of nowt but goodly things.”

“And this will work? You will cause this wretch to do no harm?”

“That is the plan.”

“Then I concur,” the Abbot said and went to stand with the others.

I went to Atyhtan. He whimpered and put his head between his knees. I knelt down next to him. Leaning in close, I put my lips near to his neck, opened my mouth and sang low and clear.

I made the sound reverberate along his spine and up towards his skull. He tensed for a sec then went quite limp. He fell back, eyes closed with a look of calm across his battered face.

 
“Goodly deed,” Wirt said and slapped me on the back. “How long is he out for?”

I scratched my head. “Dunno, never done this before.”

Wirt nudged the slumbering Carnie with his foot and he let out a mighty snore.

“Sleeping like a bub on its mammy’s chest. Adara, ye are a wonder,” Wirt said and clapped.
 

Eadgard, the Woodsfolk and the Holy’s, joined in. I gave them a small bow. They continued their applause and one by one came to shake my hand. The Abbot was uneasier with what he saw and inched towards me as if I was a tethered wolfie. Kendra out strode his tiny steps and put her hands on my shoulder. “Adara, my dear one, you are truly a wonder. I must be on my best behaviour lest you use your voice on me.”

“Nah, never Kendra, I would not.”

“I know. It is only a jest to break the atmosphere of dread.”

The Abbot stared at me for a sec, clasped his hands and put said knuckles against his mouth. He took a step closer, lowered his mitts and said, “What to say? God has given you this talent. So I must praise you in his name.”

“Ta, I think.”
 

The Abbot frowned, then grinned and let out a husky chortle that spread around the rest until all were wet of eye. He turned to me and put his hand on my noggin. For a moment, I felt such tranquillity that I wished it would last forever.
 

“Go in peace my child,” he said and lifted his forefinger in the air to make an invisible cross-like shape. The Holy’s did the same and Brother Francis stepped forward.

“We are stronger than before. We have knowledge and,” he said and turned to Bestanden, “allies.”

Said Woodsmale struck his ample chest with his fist and bowed. Wirt, Kendra and Marcellus stood by my side. I felt a surge of energy fill me at the nearness of my friends and when Eadgard gestured towards the exit and said, “It is past the time for leaving. Come, let us go.” I was ready to take on each and every Agro. I was about to leave when I caught sight of the prone figures of Atyhtan and Ryce.

“What about the Carnies?”

On hearing my question, Bestanden approached. “I wi dispose of these two?”

“Erm, one, surely. Only Ryce needs to be ‘disposed of’.”

The massive Woodsmale coughed, then looked me in the eye. “I will take care of everything. Ye do nae need to bother yerself with thoughts of those two Carnies, living or dead.”

Eadgard nodded and shook his hand. Bestanden offered his great mitt to me and I shook it cautiously.

“Right, all is good then. Come, Adara,” Eadgard said and led me to where Kendra stood by the exit. She smiled and he went back to the others.

“I shall miss this place, my dear.” She sighed, took my arm and we went through the great door and out into the soothing afternoon light. I turned my head to see Wirt, Marcellus and Eadgard shake hands with the Abbot and Bestanden, who gave my friends a knowing wink. Eadgard returned said eye gesture, then they walked all quick-like towards Kendra and myself.

Soothed by the gentle grin on my Clonie best pal’s face, I let my nostrils fill with the sweet scent that drifted from the walled garden, and followed them to the metal birdybird we had landed in.

A cold breeze whipped around my ankles. It left a strange tingle that spread throughout my bod. An inner itch that I could not scratch. With a churning gut all tight and jiggly, I stip-stepped quickly to the craft of flying. I paused at the entrance and thought I heard my name being called from far away.

Firstly by many, then, by one. It was a familiar voice that spoke to me in a whisper, reverberating within the billowing gusts of wind. I closed my eyes and heard my bro-bro say, “Come quick.”

The End

The drama continues in the thrilling
 

A Silence Heard
 

Book 3 in
The Song of Forgetfulness
series.

Trust no one - not even family.

Adara and her friends infiltrate Agro headquarters ready to free the Meeks. But there is a traitor. Someone who is in league with the enemy. Someone close to home.

Nicola McDonagh was born in Liverpool, the youngest of six children. She grew up amidst books, music and lots of animals. She originally trained as a photojournalist, but her love of the theatre and story telling, saw her gaining an Honours Degree in Drama and English Literature and a Diploma in Creative Writing from the UEA. She spent many years as an actor, scriptwriter and workshop leader, but gave it up to concentrate on her writing. She is a creative writing/photography tutor, and editor.

Nicola won the Suffolk Book League’s Short Story Competition, and was shortlisted for The Escalator Genre Fiction Competition. Her debut novel,
Echoes from the Lost Ones,
book 2 in the series
, The Song of Forgetfulness,
was published by Fable Press. The series has been re-vamped and Nicola self-published them in 2015.

Follow her on:

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@McDonaghNikki

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Website:
www.thesongofforgetfulness.com/

What people are saying about
 

Whisper Gatherers, Echoes from the Lost Ones and A Silence Heard

Whisper Gatherers:

“If you like action, and science fiction then you’ll appreciate one of the first books EVER that gives you high powered adrenalin with chilling revelations of utter suspense ! This book is amazing to read and you will not want to put it down!”

“The author does a great job of drawing you in with her futuristic descriptions, at times it felt like I was watching a movie, that’s how enthralled I was with the book.”

“The central character has a convincing mixture of wilfulness and self-deprecation, and the imagined world is sufficiently complex to provoke thought and wonder. Nice to know that there are further episodes to pursue. A good read.”