With the recent release of Rising Book 2: Rebellion, Rising Book 1: Resistance is now on sale for a limited time at Amazon and Barnes and Noble. You can purchase a copy for only $0.99, so if you want a fantasy book to read, now's a great time to purchase it. The series is only two books long, so it is complete now. :)
Rising Book 1: Resistance for Kindle
Rising Book 1: Resistance for Nook
Need a little more info on the book? I'll post the back blurb and first chapter below, or you can always read the first few chapters in the ebook samples on the website. :)
Blurb:
All Alphonse wants is a quiet summer at home before his final months at
university. What he gets is a half-dead stranger on his doorstep and the
task of delivering a package to the leader of his home country. Not
long after he boards a train toward the capital, he's attacked by
knights, elite soldiers of the neighboring king.
Alphonse is
temporarily rescued by Mairwyn, a mechanic with a haunted past and a
deep hatred of knights. Together, they attempt to carry out Alphonse's
urgent errand, only to learn that if they fail, countless people will
die.
And even if they succeed, they may not be able to prevent the war that lurks on the horizon.
(Book 1 of 2)
First Chapter:
Chapter One
Alphonse
hadn't spent time imagining what his homecoming would be like, but if he had,
it wouldn't have involved being chased by a herd of angry cows. To be fair to
the cows, he had cut through their
field. Had he known it was occupied by such easily enraged animals, he wouldn't
have climbed the fence.
Oh,
Alphonse, he could almost hear his mother
sigh, didn't you stop to ask yourself why there was a fence?
He'd
noticed that Miller Stovkin had built a fence at some point in the two years
he'd been gone, but since he had crossed through this field for most of his
life, it had seemed of little importance.
It
was now, however, very important as he tore across the field, his cloak
flapping behind him and his travel bag banging painfully against his leg. The
weight of all his books slowed him down, and the crashing noise of the cattle
pursuing him grew louder as they gained on him.
The
nearest place of safety was a large tree jutting out of the field like a finger
pointing at the sky. Alphonse clambered up onto the lowest branch faster than
he had ever climbed anything.
Fortunately,
this ended the cows' pursuit, although Alphonse half expected one particularly
irate-looking cow to ram into the tree just out of spite.
Unfortunately,
in his haste to get off the ground, his bag caught on a sharp little branch.
With a loud ripping noise, the seam split open and dumped out all of his
belongings.
Dismayed,
Alphonse watched as his books, clothes, food, and a few other items hit the
ground. Loose parchment slowly bounced across the field in the light breeze.
The books opened at odd angles, bending some of the pages. Alphonse groaned
loudly when one of them landed right in a pile of cow dung. The cows all stood
around nonchalantly, as though he no longer warranted their attention, except
for that one cow Alphonse swore was glaring at him.
His
eyes swept the ground, frantically looking for one book in particular. He
spotted it resting against the base of the tree. "No! Bad cow! Shoo!"
Alphonse waved at the cow that was now attempting to chew on one of his books.
"That's not food! What kind of demented cattle are you? Why don't you act
like the Banders' cows? They never chased me and tried to eat my
books!"
The
cow, at least, agreed that his book was inedible and rambled over to munch on
some grass. Alphonse's gaze moved back to his most treasured book. It was very
old and worn, as it had belonged to his father and had been read countless
times over the years.
Welcome
home, Alphonse. Stuck in a tree less than a mile
from home. Way to go. If
only he had told his mother he would be arriving a day early, she would have
been there to meet him at the train station and he might have avoided this.
Instead, he had decided to surprise her.
Alphonse
narrowed his eyes and gauged the distance between the branch he was clinging to
and his favorite book below. He might be able to reach it. He shifted on
the tree branch, hooked his knees around it, and carefully leaned backward
until he was hanging upside down. His glasses slipped off his nose and dropped
to the ground before he had time to realize they were falling.
"Great.
Just great." His vision was so blurred that he could make out
nothing in front of him except a fuzzy, green and brown smear of the dirt and
grass. He blindly reached out and his fingertip scraped his glasses, but they
were just out of reach. And he couldn't even see if the cows were getting angry
with him for dangling in front of them.
"Hey!
Who's in my field? You'd best not be trying to steal my berries!"
Though
Alphonse hadn't heard that gruff voice in a couple of years, it was
unmistakable. "Mr. Stovkin!" he called, relieved. "It's me,
Alphonse Redding!"
The
sound of whirring mecha met his ears, followed by guffawing. A blur of brown
moved into Alphonse's vision, and Miller Stovkin's amused voice came from right
in front of him. "Alphonse? Why in the blazes are you hanging upside down
from my tree?"
Alphonse's
head was beginning to hurt from all of the blood rushing into it. "Mr.
Stovkin, do you, um, see my glasses there?" With the turn his afternoon
had taken, it was almost inevitable that Mr. Stovkin was going to step on them.
"These?"
Alphonse's
glasses were pressed into his hand, and he put them back on, holding them
firmly in place with one hand. Mr. Stovkin came into sharp focus. His hair was
grayer and his brown face more wrinkled than Alphonse recalled. He wore a huge
smirk half hidden by his bushy mustache. Carefully, so that he wouldn't again
lose his glasses, Alphonse twisted and dropped down. His head spun and spots
danced in front of his eyes as the blood flowed properly again.
The
cow that had been glaring at him was gone, and the other cows were meandering
innocently nearby, as though they were not at all responsible for sending him
up a tree. Right beside Mr. Stovkin was his rusty old open-air vehicle,
hovering several feet off the ground. The mecha looked as ancient as it had
when Alphonse had last laid eyes on it, and part of him wondered how it was
still holding up.
"I
don't think your cows like me very much," Alphonse said as he picked up
his father's old book. It didn't seem to have been damaged from its fall. Some
of his other things, on the other hand…
He
woefully eyed the book in the pile of manure.
"Ah,
they just don't know you. Smart cows, these ones. 'Course, could be some of
them know they're about to be turned into food and it's made them a mite
ornery. Come on, stick your stuff in my HV. I'll give you a lift to your mom's
place, if that's where you're headed."
"Thank
you. I'd appreciate that." Alphonse used his ripped bag to pick up the
book stuck in the manure and wrap it up carefully until he could get it home
and clean it. He knew several of his classmates who would have squealed in
disgust, but it was a perfectly good book, aside from being very dirty at the
moment. He couldn't just abandon it to cow slobber and cloven hooves. He picked
up the rest of his belongings and set them in the back of Mr. Stovkin's
two-seater hover vehicle before climbing into the passenger seat.
Mr.
Stovkin jumped up into the driver's seat, and then they were zooming off across
the field, around the cows. "Your mother mentioned you were coming home
for the summer. She's been terribly thrilled."
Alphonse
clutched the side of the HV as Mr. Stovkin drove across his fields and out a
gate. They soon went through a thin patch of trees, and Alphonse's family house
came into sight. It was just as he remembered it—the stone house, the well
outside, his mother's birdfeeders and birdbath and carefully tended flowers. He
nearly choked on a sudden wave of homesickness. Oh, he had seen his mother when
she'd come to the university to visit him during holidays, but there had always
been something to keep him from coming home, even during his last summer
vacation: an exciting project, a trip to the northern caves to study the newly
found drawings within, a chance to study with a renowned visiting professor.
Maybe he should have made time to come home sooner.
I'll
be out of university in six months anyway, he
thought as the HV pulled to a stop in his mother's backyard.
And
then what? Would I come back here? There's the program that Professor Inkler
has been talking about, and there's that research grant…
"Alphonse!"
His mother's startled voice brought his attention to the back door. There she
was, standing in a patchwork dress, a bandana tied around her mess of black
curls. Her face lit up and she limped barefoot across the lawn as fast as she
could to meet him. He jumped out of the HV and she wrapped him in a tight hug.
She smelled like flowers and bread. Like home. She stepped back, her hands on
his shoulders, and beamed up at him. Her apron was dusted with flour. "Oh,
I'm so glad to see you! I wasn't expecting you until tomorrow!"
"I
found your boy here hanging from a tree in my cow pasture." Mr. Stovkin
sounded no less amused than he had when he'd first discovered Alphonse in the
field.
Alphonse
pulled all of his belongings out of the back of Mr. Stovkin's vehicle, setting
the wrapped book on the ground until he could get something to clean the
manure. "Thank you for the lift, Mr. Stovkin."
"My
pleasure. It's good to see you." Mr. Stovkin drove off back through the
woods.
Alphonse
turned to see his mother picking up the bag-covered book. She wrinkled her nose
and held it at arm's length. "Dare I ask why this smells like dung?"
Alphonse
rubbed the back of his neck. "I had a bit of a mishap in Mr. Stovkin's cow
pasture."
"Oh,
Alphonse." His mother sighed, but her eyes were twinkling and she waved
him toward the door. "Why don't you take your things to your room and
change out of those travel clothes?"
Alphonse
carried his belongings into the house. The kitchen was the same, with its old
wooden table and benches, dried flowers and herbs, and a counter that was
currently covered in flour and dough. His feet found the familiar grooves in
the well-worn stone floor as he walked toward his old bedroom. His mother
hadn't changed anything inside of it in the past two years, though the lack of
dust indicated she had kept it tidy for him. He set his armload of stuff on his
bed and turned in a slow circle, taking in the desk, the bookshelf, all of the
encyclopedias, old projects, and papers he had left behind. The model HV his
father had helped him build when he was seven still hung from the ceiling.
Alphonse
turned back to his bed and changed into the extra set of clothes he had packed.
He went back out to the kitchen to discover that his mother had cleaned off the
manure-covered volume and set it to dry.
"Mom,
you didn't have to do that!"
"It
was no trouble at all," she replied cheerfully. She rolled out the dough
on the counter and nodded toward the table. "Sit down and talk to
me." She had set out a plate of cheese and fruit, along with a cup of
water. She began to make the dough into biscuits as he thanked her and downed
the water. "How has school been? How are your friends?" His mother
looked over at him and he saw the mischief in her eyes when she innocently
asked, "I don't suppose you've become attached to any of those lovely
young ladies I met last time I was there?"
Alphonse
groaned. "Mom."
"I
have to ask these things. You're my only child. How else am I going to know
when to expect grandchildren?"
"Is
there a polite way to tell you that having children is the very last thing on
my mind?"
His
mother laughed. "I don't think you need to tell me that." Still, he
thought she looked a little wistful. More than that, it struck him that she
looked lonely, and it made him feel worse that he hadn't been home sooner.
Later
that night, as Alphonse was finishing organizing his belongings from the summer
and preparing for bed, his mother poked into his room and picked up the only
other outfit he had brought with him. "You didn't bring any more clothes
home with you?"
Alphonse
looked at her blankly. "I can only wear one set at a time, and if I had
brought more, I wouldn't have had room for all my books."
"You
sound just like your father," his mother said fondly. "The countless
hours he would spend with his nose in his books, always talking about this
artifact and that research paper." She gave him a tight hug. "Good
night, Alphonse. I'm so glad to have you home."
"Good
night, Mom."
She
limped into her bedroom and closed the door, and Alphonse collapsed onto his
bed. It was smaller than he recalled it being and his feet dangled off the end
of it. He was too tired to care. He was asleep almost as soon as his head hit
the pillow.
The
next thing he knew, he was falling out of bed, banging his head painfully on
the wall. He tried to figure out where he was and what he was doing. It slowly
dawned on him that he was sitting on the floor of his childhood bedroom and
that someone was pounding on the front door.
He
went into the hallway and found his mother coming out of her room, wrapping a
robe around herself. Alphonse's brain finally jolted awake, but he still
couldn't figure out why anyone would be banging on the door at this hour.
"Mrs.
Redding! Mrs. Redding, are you home?" Though the male voice calling
through the door was vaguely familiar, Alphonse couldn't quite place it.
"Please be home! It's Nella!"
Alphonse
pinpointed the voice. It was Bryce Derrin, one of his old classmates. Nella had
been another classmate, and he recalled that the two had been very taken with
each other during their school days.
Alphonse's
mother's eyes widened and she ran to the front door to open it. "What's
going on?"
Alphonse
couldn't see Bryce with his mother blocking the doorway, but he was frantic
when he answered. "She…she…she's leaking all over and she's in tremendous
pain. It's time, I'm sure of it, and her mom's visiting her grandfather for the
weekend…"
"Calm
down, Bryce," Alphonse's mother said soothingly. "It's going to be
just fine. I'll come right over. Is there anyone else there to help?"
"N-No,
ma'am, you're the closest neighbor and I didn't want to leave Nella alone, but
I didn't have any choice," Bryce replied.
"Wait
right here. I need to get a few things." Alphonse's mother turned away
from the door. "Alphonse, I want you to come with me. If nothing else, you
can keep Bryce calm." She took him by the arm and pulled him into the
kitchen, where she gathered a few jars of herbs.
"Um,
why am I keeping Bryce calm?"
"Because
it seems his wife is in labor."
Alphonse
froze and his face slowly drained of color. "Wh-what? I can't…I mean,
there's nothing I can do…" She expected him to go to a house where a
woman—no, one of the girls he had grown up with—was having a baby? The
very thought of it made his stomach swim nauseatingly.
"You
can carry this." His mother shoved a stack of linens in his arms.
"Now, if you please, Alphonse."
He
certainly didn't please, but he numbly followed her back toward the
door, where he got his first look at Bryce. He paced back and forth and twisted
a straw hat around in his hands. He had once been taller than Alphonse, and was
now half a head shorter. He looked momentarily startled when he saw Alphonse
but managed a nod and a mumble that might have been a greeting.
When
they reached Bryce's house and went inside, a very pregnant Nella was doubled
over in the front room, groaning. Sweat rolled down her face and plastered her
red hair to her cheeks. Alphonse took one look at her and turned to walk back
out of the house. His mother grabbed his arm and halted him in his tracks.
"I
need those linens and then I need you to sterilize a knife for me. Bryce, boil
water. And do you have a heater?"
"Yes,
Mrs. Redding."
"Get
that out and turn it on, and bring it into the bedroom."
Alphonse's
mother led Nella out of the room, presumably toward the bedroom, and Alphonse's
legs became too weak to hold his weight. He collapsed into the nearest chair
and stared at Bryce, wondering if he looked as pale as Bryce did.
At
least Bryce was on his feet and moving as quickly as he could to follow
Alphonse's mother's instructions. It would have been much handier if their
small town had indoor plumbing like all of the major cities, universities, and
even many other little towns, but Hale was behind on some things. Bryce ran
outside to the well with a bucket in hand, leaving the door wide open. He
returned shortly with water. In his haste to get it on the stove, he sloshed
half of it on the floor and had to go back for more.
Alphonse
was glued to the seat. He tried to stand up at one point, and then Nella
screamed from the bedroom and he sank right back down again.
"So,
um, Alphonse," Bryce stammered after he finally got the water heating up
on the stove. "It's been a while. Back from university?" He dashed to
a cupboard and pulled out a mecha heater, typically used for heating beds
during the winter. He pushed a button on it to get it warming up.
"For
the summer," Alphonse replied.
Another
scream from the bedroom, and Alphonse had to resist the very strong urge cover
his ears. Either that, or flee. Fleeing sounded like a very good option right
then.
Knife.
He was supposed to be sterilizing a knife and keeping Bryce calm. Right.
Who was supposed to keep him calm so he could keep Bryce calm?
"Where
do you keep your knives?"
By
the time Alphonse had finished sterilizing the utensil, Bryce had disappeared
into the bedroom, so Alphonse took the liberty to run out the door. He would
have gone home, except he was afraid his mother would need him (he prayed she
wouldn't), so he sat on the ground and leaned against the side of the house.
He
cursed the misfortune that had brought him home right when a neighbor
had decided to give birth. Not that any other time would have been any better,
but if it had been another night, maybe Nella's mother would have been there so
that he wouldn't have to be. If only he had waited until the next day, when he
was supposed to come home, he could have been comfortably in his dorm room at
the university.
Even
being outside didn't drown out the noises Nella was making, and Alphonse tried
to focus on something other than the sounds. Anything else. He ran
through historical events, calming himself by going through names and dates. He
would have thought going through the finer points in his country's history
would have given him more than enough material to get through a baby's birth.
Apparently this was going to take longer than he expected. When he had caught
up to the present day in his mental history recollection, he jumped over to
mathematical equations. Every time he dozed off, he was jolted awake by the
sudden noises from inside.
By
the time an infant's cries pierced the air, the sun was rising and Alphonse was
ready to fall over—whether from exhaustion or relief that it had ended, he
wasn't sure.
"Alphonse!"
his mother called. "Alphonse, I need that knife!"
Alphonse
dragged himself to his feet and ran into the house. He located the sterilized
knife and took it to the bedroom door. When he knocked tentatively, his mother
said, "You can come in. Meet our new neighbor."
Yes,
because he wanted to see Nella for the first time in two years after
he'd spent half the night listening to her labor pains. "I'd really prefer
to stay out here."
The
door opened and Alphonse's mother held out her hand for the knife. She looked
exhausted, but there was both amusement and happiness on her face. "Very
well. Thank you for staying close. You can—"
"Mrs.
Redding?" Nella sounded equally exhausted and there was a sudden fear in
her tone that made Alphonse's mother turn quickly, the knife in her hand
pointed down.
This
was the worst thing she could have done, for it gave Alphonse a wide view of
the bedroom and the bloodied cloths and sheets. He got a glimpse of Nella on
the bed, holding a baby whose umbilical cord hadn't yet been cut. Coupled with
the sweat and blood smell wafting from the room, Alphonse's nausea and
dizziness overwhelmed him and his vision went black. The next thing he knew, he
was opening his eyes from the floor, his glasses pressed uncomfortably against
his face.
"Alphonse,
are you all right?" his mother asked.
"I'm…unnnghh…"
Alphonse scooted backwards out of the bedroom. He must have only been out for a
second or two, because the conversation within the bedroom continued as though
he had not just fainted like a coward at the sight of blood.
Blood…
Alphonse
pressed his face to his knees and decided maybe he should wait a moment before
trying to stand up again. Though his mother might not know it yet, her chances
of ever having a grandchild had just dropped to zero percent.
"What
are these?" Nella asked. "These bumps on her back…is something wrong
with her? Is my baby all right?"
There
was a heavy silence, in which Alphonse imagined his mother to be examining the
newborn. "Oh," his mother breathed. "Oh, Nella…these aren't
bumps."
"Then
what are they?" Bryce spoke this time, and he had more dread in his voice
than fear, as though he already knew the answer and was afraid to say it.
His
mother's reply was so quiet Alphonse almost didn't hear it. "They're wing
buds."
