Forgotten Truth

Cook, Dawn

ISBN 10 : 1441754083 ISBN 13 : 9781441754080

Editeur : Blackstone Pub, 2010

Synopsis

Book by Dawn Cook aka Kim Harrison

A propos du livre

Extrait

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Dedication

 

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Praise for First Truth

“A beautifully told, simple story that looks unblinkingly at how prejudice unnecessarily reinforces misconceptions, misunderstandings, and hatred.” —Booklist

 
“The author excels at demonstrating the tension between the farmers and plainsmen with Alissa’s and Strell’s stereotypical attitudes toward each other upon first meeting . . . With an almost claustrophobic setting and a small cast of characters, this novel is an admirable effort . . . An entertaining read.” —Kliatt

 
“A refreshing, humorous take on the coming-of-age quest. The plot tightly builds empathy for the characters even as it makes fun of their foibles.” —Romantic Times

 
“Though First Truth may be Dawn Cook’s debut novel, readers will place this excellent tale on their keeper shelf.”

—BookBrowser

 
“A fun book, sure to appeal to fans (like me) of Tamora Pierce or Robin McKinley. With characters to cheer for, vicious villains, and attack birds, First Truth has everything I need in a good read. I look forward to Alissa’s next adventure.” —Patricia Briggs, author of Dragon Blood

 
“In her beguiling debut, Cook has woven together magical threads.” —Deborah Chester, author of The Queen’s Gambit

 
And don’t miss Hidden Truth

Ace Books by Dawn Cook

FIRST TRUTH
HIDDEN TRUTH
FORGOTTEN TRUTH

If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

 
 
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

 
FORGOTTEN TRUTH

 
An Ace Book / published by arrangement with
the author

 
PRINTING HISTORY Ace mass market edition / December 2003

 
Copyright © 2003 by Dawn Cook.

 
All rights reserved.
This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without
permission. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via
the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the
publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only
authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage
electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s
rights is appreciated.
For information address: The Berkley Publishing Group,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

ISBN: 9781440619557

 
ACE®
Ace Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.
ACE and the “A” design
are trademarks belonging to Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

 

 

For Tim

1

Alissa’s throat tightened at the sight of the updraft, a deeper blue against the washed-out autumn sky. It rose like a column of shimmering heat from the open field of grass. Beneath her was the icy cool of the surrounding forest. Tops of individual trees were lost in a blur of damp pine smell from her speed. The wind slipping over her felt and sounded like gray silk, but instead of her usual pleasure, she felt only a coming dread.

“See it?” Beast said in her thoughts. “What’s going to happen when we find it?”

“We go up,” Alissa thought back, swallowing nervously. “The sun’s setting, and I have a lesson tonight. Perhaps we should stop. It’s getting hard to see the updrafts.”

“It is not. We’ve been at this since sun-high. It’s not that hard, Alissa.” The voice in her thoughts gave the impression of an aggravated sigh. “We’re almost there. What do you do when you reach it?”

“I—uh—cup my wings about it and turn into a rising curve?”

“Yes.”

Alissa’s long tail made an exasperated twitch. She was sure Beast had done it. Alissa wouldn’t have minded, but it shifted their momentum, and Alissa gasped. Beast said nothing as she impatiently abandoned this pass and angled Alissa back to the forest. Beside her came a faint chitter as Talon, Alissa’s pet kestrel, protested at the sharp shift of direction. The bird had accompanied her all afternoon as if in encouragement.

“Beast,” Alissa asked, “why are we bothering? I don’t care you do all the flying.”

“I’ve seen your teacher watch you when we fly. He knows something is wrong. Someday he might realize it isn’t you who is flying but me.” Beast turned Alissa back to the updraft. “Look sharp. I’m not going to help you this time.”

“Beast?” Alissa thought, concerned as she took control over the gentle glide Beast had left her in, but the voice didn’t answer. Alissa eyed the approaching updraft, knowing from countless passes she had a moment to gather her courage. She glanced forward to the Hold. The nearly abandoned fortress nestled into the rock of the mountain. Behind the peak was a steep drop. The setting sun had beaten upon the sheer rock face all afternoon until the wave of heat streaming from it was so strong, it was almost purple to her raku eyes.

Beast had sported them in the windy violence earlier, showing Alissa the glorious possibilities to be found in updrafts before settling down to try to teach Alissa to fly on her own. The heavy upwelling of energy behind the Hold made the updraft over the fallow fields look like a washbasin in comparison to the sea, but even so it scared Alissa silly, making her long fingers tingle down to the tips of her savage claws.

Cup my wings and ease into it, she thought, her lips pulling back from her long canines as she felt Beast’s thoughts turn impatient.

“Not so stiff, Alissa,” her feral consciousness complained. “Tear my dame’s wings to shreds, why don’t you trust the wind? It’s more faithful than the most loyal mate.”

“Mate?” Alissa thought, embarrassed. Distracted, she slammed into the updraft unprepared. The wheat-scented wind caught her wings, shocking her with the force behind it. Alissa overcompensated. Feeling herself stall, she tried to flap her wings. It was a mistake. Pain shot through her back as she sought to find lift from a standstill.

“Alissa!” Beast shrieked. “You can’t rise that way! Cup your wings!”

Alissa’s tail whipped wildly as she tried to find her center of balance. It smacked painfully into a treetop. She was out of the updraft and back over the trees. Without the help of the rising air, she fell. A massive hemlock loomed before her. “Beast!” she cried.

Beast tried to snatch control, but panicked, Alissa wouldn’t let go. Wings flailing, Alissa crashed through the canopy. Branches as thick as her arm snapped. Pain raked her wings. Frantic, Alissa struggled to fold them. There was no time to even gasp as the ground came at her.

She hit hard. In an uncontrolled barrel roll, she tumbled along the ground. Undergrowth and small trees cracked. End over end she spun until slamming into a tree. Her long neck flung out, and her jaw smacked into the earth. The tree shivered, sending dead needles to the ground and birds into the air. Blood filled her mouth. She had bitten her tongue.

“Oh, Ashes,” she moaned aloud, her words coming out as a pained, guttural groan. Talon fluttered down to perch on her head, the bird’s nails digging painlessly into Alissa’s bare scalp. Alissa waved a nastily clawed hand at her bird to get her to leave. It was so undignified when Talon perched on her head like that. The kestrel made an insulted squawk and flew away.

“Alissa?” came a dry, disgusted thought from the depths of her mind. “You are the only raku I know who can fall down in an updraft.”

“Ow,” Alissa groaned aloud, her thick rumble carrying more pain than her human voice ever could. She slowly picked herself up, settling into a suffering, hunched crouch. Red-rimmed scratches marred her golden hide, and she was sore with what would probably be bruises.

“Look at your wing,” Beast demanded. “I think you tore it.”

Stomach turning, Alissa extended her left wing, being careful to not hit any of the remaining trees in the clearing she had made. Her neck snaked to look behind her. “Burn it to ash,” she thought. A panel close to her body had been punctured, making a tear almost as long as a man was tall. She looked to the ground, trying not to pass out or vomit. What would Useless, her teacher, say? He would ground her for a week.

“A week?” Beast thought sourly. “It’s going to take twice that long to heal.”

Alissa said nothing, relieved when her feral consciousness seemed to disappear. There was little to interest Beast on the ground. Only anger or the promise of flight would bring Beast to the forefront of Alissa’s thoughts again.

She carefully folded her wing, holding it from her side as it was still oozing blood. The faint sound of someone calling her name filtered through the woods. It sounded muffled, as her hearing was now more attuned to deep tones her human ears couldn’t discern. Her pulse quickened as she recognized Strell’s voice. He had probably seen her fall. A second voice joined Strell’s, and she grimaced. Lodesh was with him. Better and better.

Having the always-composed, self-assured, onetime ghost find her hurt and foolish was the last thing she wanted. Alissa sighed. Not really a ghost. Not anymore. The ancient Warden of Ese’Nawoer said he was as living as any man. It was a claim she tended to believe, as Lodesh’s hands were warm when he pulled her into a dance, and his frequent, overly expressive looks often brought a blush to her face.

There was a faint tug upon her awareness. Recognizing Lodesh trying to reach her thoughts, she set up a block so he couldn’t find her. And she could shift back to her human form to hide the tear. What her hurt wing would turn into was a question she had hoped she would never have to answer.

“Alissa?” came Strell’s low-pitched voice, close and worried, and she sat up with a surprisingly quiet shuffle of leaves.

“Ali-i-i-i-issa?” called Lodesh, his careful pronunciation sounding concerned as well. Then, softer, clearly to Strell. “I know she came down here somewhere. I hope she’s not unconscious. I can’t reach even her thoughts.”

She felt wicked, but the shame of her torn wing kept her mouth shut and her mind closed. Lodesh would shake his head, then tease her until her teacher found out about the tear. Strell would tactfully ignore the situation—providing she seemed all right—knowing she would be embarrassed for having fallen out of the sky. If she was going to shift, it would have to be now.

With three slow breaths, Alissa unfocused her attention. Quick from practice, she set up the proper pathways in her mind to work the ward. Cool, silver force flowed from her source to fill her tracings, deep in her awareness. The heavy smell of bracken and sap vanished as she broke herself down to a thought, shifted that thought to the body she had been born with, then made that thought real. At the last moment, she remembered to clothe herself, and a new pattern joined the one already resonating in her mind.

Alissa coalesced into existence wearing a Keeper’s traditional garb of long tunic and short vest bound about her small waist with a black scarf. A skirt hemmed in green ribbon finished the outfit, edging her toes. Her feet were bare but for a pair of thin stockings with holes, and her face warmed for the lack of shoes. At least she had stockings on. She may as well be naked if she hadn’t had those.

Useless hated her Keeper attire, saying as a Master, she ought to dress as such. But she hadn’t yet taken the time to learn how to craft anything else with her thoughts. The task was tedious, and she would learn how to make shoes before more clothes. Alissa ran a hand over her skirt to reassure herself it was there. The one time she had forgotten had been mortifying.

The stark savagery of hide, claw, and primitive strength had been replaced by sun-darkened skin and horridly straight fair hair that went halfway to her elbows. Her eyes had retained their odd gray color; it was something she wished she could change. Scratches marred her arms when she pushed up her long sleeves to see, and her jaw was tender. A new soreness ran down her back, and she stretched painfully to test her limits. Something was torn inside her. By feel she decided her back was whole and unmarked. The damage was hidden inside.

Heart pounding, she lurched her way through the shattered branches and ducked behind a tree. If she planned it right, she might get a moment with Strell alone.

“By the Navigator’s Hounds!” she heard Lodesh exclaim, and she knew they had found her clearing. “Look what she did!”

Alissa peered around her tree. Strell and Lodesh stood with their feet edging the new destruction in the setting sun. Talon was perched on Lodesh’s wrist. The canny bird swiveled her head and looked directly at Alissa. She winced as Strell cupped his hands and shouted, “Ali-i-issa-a-a!”

Strell shivered and ran a hand over his brown hair, ending the motion with gripping the hair clip at the back of his neck in a tight fist. The action was clearly one of worry. Strell was from the desert and probably felt the chill of the coming night as much as she did—though she had yet to hear him complain about it. He was surprisingly tall, almost gaunt despite the plates of food he ate. Dressed in his simple brown shirt and trousers, he looked like a poor cousin next to Lodesh’s extravagant clothes.

Lodesh was the only Keeper the Hold could boast of right now, and he was admittedly faster with his wards than she, despite his lower standing. Nearly four centuries ago he had been the Warden of the nearby abandoned city, Ese’Nawoer. Now, the revived ghost spent much of his time helping her practice her wards.

He was dressed in Keeper attire cut...

Biographie de l'auteur

Dawn Cook is the author of First Truth, Hidden Truth, Forgotten Truth, and Lost Truth.

Détails de l'édition

• Éditeur: Blackstone Pub
• Date d'édition: 2010
• Langue: anglais
• ISBN 10: 1441754083
• ISBN 13: 9781441754080
• Reliure: CD
• Coordonnées du fabricant: non disponible
• Personne responsable: non disponible