Spirits of the Earth: The Complete Series: (A Post-Apocalyptic Series Box Set: Books 1-3) by Milo Fowler (paper ebook reader .TXT) 📕

Do I envy them? Do I wish I could be the one leading the warriors instead of Vincent? At times, perhaps. But whenever Gaia calls me to her, to behold her in all her glorious light, knowing that I am the only one among my people graced by her presence, all other desires pale in comparison.

Crossing kilometers as if they are only paces across the Shipyard, my warriors head straight for mountains jutting awkwardly out of the terrain as though shoved there against their will. In all likelihood, they were. The cataclysmic blasts of D-Day’s bombs destroyed the Old World and all life upon it. Valleys rose upward and mountains were laid low. Topography shifted, rendering the old maps from the bunkers useless. This is literally a new world, a North American continent totally unlike its predecessor.

The UW has no business being here after what they did to this land. We have long since grown tired of their presence—that naval blockade floating out at sea, those ugly grey ships and their pretentious military presuming to keep everyone from going in or out, as if the continent were diseased.

To the unenlightened, perhaps it is. But they are ignorant of the truth.

This is a land of blessing. It is here that Gaia has chosen to reveal herself. She has chosen me and my people to be her people. The UW with their domed city across the sea and their filtered air have rejected Gaia’s blessings, and such irreverent disregard is not to be tolerated indefinitely.

They will soon learn the consequences of their arrogance.

“Gaia will show us the way?” Victoria’s tone leaves room for doubt.

I focus on the terrain ahead as we rush through the night sky, flying above my warriors. The mountains loom before them, twenty kilometers away. But considering the speed of these men, they will reach the foothills in a matter of minutes.

“She will guide us to their cave. It is her will that we work with Luther and his people.” Why am I repeating myself? Who am I trying to convince?

“Working with him is different from sending armed men to his front door.”

I curse under my breath. “Luther is no fool. He will know the weapons they carry are not meant for him—as long as our warriors are not provoked.”

“And if they are?”

“Luther would not risk the lives of his people for UW spies.”

“Will you threaten him? If he decides to protect them?”

“If he goes against the will of Gaia, he will be punished.” I clench my fists.

“But you said it was Gaia’s will for the two of you to work together against your common enemy.” She never backs down in the face of my temper. “Will she be pleased if you start trouble with Luther and his nomads?”

“They involved themselves in this situation when that flying man interfered.”

“He saved the lives of those scouts. You were going to kill them.” She watches me closely, unafraid. “Or am I wrong about that?”

“I do the will of Gaia.”

Victoria nods to herself. “Then she will show us Luther’s Homeplace. And there will be no violence between our people and his, because we follow the will of our mother.”

Do I detect irony in her tone? I let it slide. Instead I focus on the foothills before me, crags and cliff sides, for signs of human habitation—trails blazed along the ridges, caves that yawn black in the predawn darkness. There are plenty of openings in the rock, numerous places where Luther could have tucked his tribe away, high above the marauding bands of goblyns hungry for their next kill.

I scan the rocks and slopes before me with a keen awareness for heat signatures, the pulsing beats that would come from a human heart.

“Vincent is concerned, my lord,” Victoria says presently. “The men are exposed. The higher ground surrounding them makes them easy targets.”

“Tell him to trust Gaia.” I scan my field of vision from left to right. “And to trust me.”

Victoria shakes her head. “It’s Luther’s infidels the men distrust, afraid they will gun them down without a fair fight.”

“That is not Luther’s way. He is a man of peace.”

There: two—no, three heartbeats. Quivering rapidly in the night, each hidden behind large outcroppings of rock along a low ridge. No more than thirty meters up the steep grade and spaced ten meters apart. Wise of Luther to have sentries posted.

I point them out, unseen by the naked eye. “Have Vincent speak to them, explain why we are here. We come in peace. Emphasize we will not raise our weapons against them.”

“Are the three sentries armed?” She peers into the darkness, locating the mind of each one.

“We must assume so.”

“Gaia didn’t tell you?” She raises an eyebrow.

I should slap her for such insolence. “We haven’t much time, my lady.”

She relays the message to Vincent, who steps forward from the pack with his empty hands out to the sides.

“Friends! We come in peace,” he calls up to the sentries. “You have no reason to fear us. We have never sought to harm your people. We are much alike, sharing many of the same gifts. And we share the same enemies.” He pauses, looking up along the ridge for any sign of movement. He could be speaking to the mountain itself, by all appearances.

Then a narrow cascade of sand shuffles down the hillside and a voice demands from above, “Who are you? Why are you here?” The guards remain hidden, but they adjust their position, no doubt lining up the sights of their weapons with the men below.

“We come from the coast, fifty kilometers west of you. We are the people of Lord Cain, whom your leader is well acquainted with. Please let him know we are here with a message.”

A few moments of silence drag on before the voice returns.

“Very well. Lay down your weapons if you truly come in peace.”

Vincent’s hands remain floating in the air at his sides. “Unfortunately, we cannot comply.