Hidden: Tales of Ryca, Book 1 Read online

  Hidden

  Tales of Ryca, Book 1

  Shereen Vedam

  Hidden Copyright © 2017 by Shereen Vedam. All Rights Reserved.

  Dedication

  This fantasy novel is dedicated to my work friends,

  Martha, Joanne, Maria, Shirley and Marina,

  for their unfailing faith

  in my story telling ability.

  Contents

  Dedication

  Excerpt

  What readers are saying about Hidden

  Copyright

  Acknowledgement

  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

  Coming soon

  About the Author

  Books by Shereen Vedam

  Excerpt

  She crouched beside him and whispered, “Stand up.”

  He lay unmoving.

  With a frustrated cry, she slung his left arm around her shoulder.

  “What are you doing?” He slurred the question around a swollen lip and a missing tooth.

  “Getting you out of here.” She tried to lift him and buckled under his weight. For such a slender man, he was heavy. “You need to stand.”

  “No.” His gaze trained on the white stallion, he removed his arm from around her shoulder. “He’ll be back. Leave me. Leave Nadym. Not safe here anymore.”

  “Fine, I’ll go. But with you.”

  “No!” His rejection was vehement. “Let me die. I deserve it.”

  Gilly sat back in shock. “No one deserves to die.” She said the words with force and then glanced at the frightened crowd on the street. Had anyone heard? No, the din was too loud, thank the Light. Gilly moved his arm back across her shoulder. “You will not die. I won’t let you.” She needed to get him off the porch, away from watchful eyes.

  “Stop it.” His protest was fainter this time and his eyes were closed. Any moment now he would be a dead weight.

  She debated stringing together a spell to lighten his weight. It was either that or drag him, which would be slower and louder. Before she came to a satisfactory conclusion, someone lifted Tom’s other arm. She gasped in fright before recognizing Anna’s scowling face.

  Her sister appeared none too pleased to be back out here.

  Gilly’s emotions rocked from relief to horror. She feared her heart was permanently lodged in her throat. “Why can’t you ever listen to me?”

  “Do you want help or not?”

  “Yes!”

  “Then shut up and lift. I don’t know why I bothered to help your ungrateful butt. And don’t expect a repeat of the gesture. We’re done once we leave the village. I only came as a “thank you” for coming for me. Now and before.” She paused to gulp in air, as if admitting to the role Gilly played in both those rescues was tougher than hauling Tom.

  What readers are saying about Hidden

  “This tale of epic fantasy, interwoven with love of family and hope of romance, is well-written, descriptive, and hopefully paves the way for additional tales of a new kind of magic.”

  Michelle Willms

  “I just finished reading Hidden by Shereen Vedam and it was magical! This is the journey of Gilly and her sister as they learn about their past and themselves, and work together to protect their family. This is a wonderful start of a new series I’m looking forward to continuing.“

  Bev

  “Kept me reading until I was finished.”

  Jackie

  “Hidden is a thrilling beginning to what promises to be an exciting, epic journey. With two headstrong, feisty, and fierce women fighting for not just their lives, but the future of Ryca, you are immediately drawn into the action.”

  Kathleen M Munford

  Copyright

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead), events or locations is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2017 by Shereen Vedam

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review. Please purchase only authorized editions.

  Ebook ISBN: 978-0-9953447-2-3

  Cover Design:

  Wicked by Design: http://www.wickedbydesigncovers.com/

  Newsletter Sign up at: http://www.subscribepage.com/c9u7e6

  I enjoy hearing from readers. Please visit my website to learn more about me or to contact me:

  Shereen Vedam

  http://www.shereenvedam.com

  Acknowledgement

  My deepest gratitude goes to

  H. Bears for her invaluable assistance in picking

  the perfect heroine for the cover,

  I. Brown for her exacting eagle eye during

  copyediting and proofreading,

  and finally, my critique groups, past and present,

  for their brilliant story insights.

  It was grand to have such talented friends and colleagues

  come to my aid to bring this creative endeavor

  to the light of day.

  Chapter 1

  Gilly’s goats grazed on the dry grass and thicket, their occasional “maa” a soothing melody on this hot summer day. She leaned on her walking stick to take pressure off her aching left leg. This open flat section northeast of the village stretched far across the horizon. From here, she could see strangers approach from miles away. A defense tactic that had become ingrained after years spent on self-imposed guard duty.

  Divided by terrain and cultures and ruled by King Ywen and his horsemen, Ryca was a dangerous land for her kind, ones who knew how to wield Light, to weave magic. She had been on guard since the King’s Horsemen tracked her family down in a far off woods, over two decades ago now. Along with her goats, she had run then, carrying her baby sister south across the breadth of the western edge of the land of Ryca. Weeks later, heart sore, feet torn, lame leg throbbing and red straggly hair plastered to her wet cheeks, she reached this little forgotten corner of Ryca. A pastoral village named Nadym.

  Gilly had stayed hidden on the village’s outskirts, enviously watching smiling farmers go about their daily tasks in blissful ignorance of any danger. They didn’t picture horsemen hiding behind every bush. Or imagine a sword striking down each time they closed their eyes.

  Her ever present fear of discovery, one she hadn’t been able to shake in the two decades she spent here, kept Gilly from spending much time with the people of Nadym.

  The bright sun rising high in a clear blue sky hinted at yet another scorching day. Perspiration trickled off her forehead and droplets slid down her back beneath her long brown gown and linen underskirt. She was looking forward to sitting in the shade and taking off shoes and stockings to cool her hot toes. To the right, near a hilly terrain, large oaks promised cover. She herded the goats that way.

  “Gilly!” The light singsong voice came from a distance.

  Her heart skipped a beat in acute pleasure even before her niece ran up to her. The girl wore a pretty blue gown cinched at the waist. The material had intricate embroidery sown at the hems by her mother, Anna.

&nb
sp; Skye came to a breathless halt, a small replica of her mother with sunshine hair, pert nose, and inquisitive eyes.

  In contrast, Gilly had sun-flecked red hair, hazel eyes and a face dusky from years spent under the sun. At thirty-three summers, she considered herself past the age of “pretty.”

  Gilly planted a disapproving expression on her face that belied her bubbling happiness at seeing Skye. “What did your mam say about trailing after me?”

  Skye shrugged and tugged a tall blade of grass to chew. “My mama’s always angry with me for one thing or another. Besides, she doesn’t understand.”

  “Understand what?”

  The eight-year-old kicked at a mole mound. “All mama wants me to do is chores. With you, I get to roam the plains.” Arms spread wide, she twirled with abandon.

  Gilly viewed the knobs of hills breaking up the flat surface from Skye’s perspective. Patterns of purple, gold, red and silver wildflowers waved in the wind while tawny grass stretched far across the horizon. Land that usually seemed shaded with melancholy now shouted, freedom.

  Such a rare emotion. Fear she was familiar with. Sadness. Even loneliness. This sense of well-being, in a land that posed no threat, no sense of doom? She wanted to embrace this sensation, cherish it, if only for a few moments. What harm if Skye stayed for a while?

  “You go farther than anyone else,” her niece said. “I’m not allowed to wander this far without someone by me.”

  “You’re not allowed to wander at all, with me.” The reprimand, aimed at Skye, generated spasms of guilt in Gilly. She wasn’t on intimate terms with her sister. In fact, Anna was unaware that Gilly was her sister.

  After escaping the King’s Horsemen, believing they would search for two children, Gilly, then a ten-year-old girl, had decided she and her baby sister would have a better chance at survival if they separated. So, shortly after reaching this isolated village, she left the baby on a temple’s doorstep, hoping someone would adopt her.

  To her delight, a couple took her sister and named her Anna. Gilly should have left then. It was the sensible thing to do. The safe thing to do for both of them. She just couldn’t do it.

  No matter how lonely it was to watch others love her sister, she couldn’t bring herself to leave Anna. What if her sister needed her? What if the horsemen tracked Anna down and Gilly wasn’t around to save her? Those questions kept Gilly Nadym-bound. So, living alone in the woods, she secretly checked on the baby’s welfare.

  A few months later, when the couple who adopted Anna conceived a child, they passed the “orphan” to another childless couple. Months later, Anna was passed along again, and then again. Seeing her sister shunted among families like an unwanted puppy broke her heart.

  Needing to do something to help her sister, she “officially” moved to Nadym. Calling herself Gilly, a goat herder, she attempted to befriend Anna, even offered to watch her. The plan was easier imagined than accomplished. The villagers had apparently grown fiercely protective of the orphan child. Anna was indeed loved, if not intensely and personally, certainly as a member of Nadym’s close-knit community. They refused to allow strangers anywhere near the child.

  Still, as she grew up, Anna must have felt disconnected because she spent her childhood trying to prove she belonged in the village. That included following all village customs and rejecting everything she deemed out of place.

  She didn’t understand why Gilly lived alone. Couldn’t conceive why anyone would shun communal activities. She saw Gilly’s tendency to talk to her goats as “crazy.”

  Despite Anna’s aversion to her, Gilly adored the woman her sister grew up to be. The day Anna married was Gilly’s happiest and loneliest day of her life. Her sister had finally established a safe, secure home, but one that excluded Gilly. If Anna had her way, she would never let either of her children anywhere near Gilly, whom her sister had long ago nicknamed the Madwoman of Nadym.

  Anna’s daughter, however, had an independent streak as wide as these plains. One her mother couldn’t control. One Gilly should discourage. Turning Skye away was a bittersweet task she had yet to master.

  She tucked a strand of Skye’s blonde hair behind her ear. Despite her misbehavior, this child had a good heart. Anna should be proud of her.

  The goats, which had been grazing peacefully until now, moved toward a rocky outcrop. Skye and Gilly followed. In the distance, melodious voices floated. It was harvest time, when villagers gathered on the southern fields to apply their scythes and reap in rye and oats. A community effort that seemed to require much joyful singing.

  “Why do you come so far?” Skye asked.

  Gilly stumbled over a rock and cursed her left leg for lagging instead of lifting. Skye’s personal question intruded in places best left undisturbed. How to answer? “Guess I like the sense of vastness. Seems I’ve been staring out onto open fields most of my life.”

  “Even when you were little, as little as Bevan?”

  Bevan. Skye’s little brother of four summers. Now there was a quiet, lonely soul. Anna kept him close, so Gilly could only study his behavior at the market, the temple and the public well.

  Skye asked again, “Did you stare off into the fields when you were little?”

  “Since I was a touch older than your age, anyhow.”

  “What about before then?”

  “Don’t remember much before that.”

  “Why not?”

  Too close! A mental warning shot out, sharp and shrill.

  Normally Gilly would end the conversation here, but Skye’s innocent blue eyes pleaded for a confidant, a friend. Friendship meant sharing and talking, not running away.

  “Just the way I am. My mam said I’d had an accident, a fall that knocked my memories out and broke my leg.”

  “How did it happen?”

  “Don’t remember that, now, do I?”

  “Does your mam?”

  The question ripped open the old wound and Gilly swallowed hard to keep the pain from flooding out. Her throat clogged and her eyes filled. She looked away, searching for control. Once her throat loosened its fierce grip, she spoke softly, serenely. “She died long ago.”

  The ancient pain turned over like a bony old dog and returned to its pit for another nap.

  “Oh.” Skye’s eyes softened with compassion. As quickly, her mood shifted. With a shout, she ran toward the goats.

  Bleating, they scattered. Skye chased after the youngest. As she lunged for him, the kid skittered away, and Skye fumbled to the ground, empty-handed.

  With a tolerant laugh, Gilly allowed her niece’s play, glad the uncomfortable conversation had ended. The girl scrambled up and chased after the kid, which took off up a hill.

  Skye waved to indicate she would meet her at the top and tore off at a run before Gilly could argue. That girl had too much energy. Skye scooted up a rocky portion as if she were a goat herself, her gaze firmly planted on the kid that watched her with cool insolence from the top.

  Gilly forced her lame leg to move faster as she climbed after them.

  A scream sliced the still air.

  Skye! Gilly jerked her gaze upward. The kid was on the hill but not her niece. She cursed her leg as she hurried up the rise. “I’m coming.”

  The moment she reached the top, the kid raced off toward the rest of the herd. On the other side was a sharp drop some forty feet to the ground. The girl clung to a branch of a dead oak. That weak branch wouldn’t hold her long. She must have slipped, unprepared for the hill to abruptly drop off.

  “Help!” Skye cried.

  “I’m here.” Fear for Skye’s safety, combined with her fear of heights, made Gilly nauseous. The contents of her stomach roiled. Calm down! This was no time to be ill. Skye needed her. The girl was too far down from this crest for Gilly to reach, even with her walking stick. She looked for other means of getting to the girl.

  If she tried to go down, she would probably fall, as Skye had. If she went back to the village, it might be too late by
the time she returned with help.

  “My hands are slipping.” Panic was clear in Skye’s high-pitched voice.

  “Hold on.” Gilly’s stomach did another turn, threatening to empty her breakfast over the ledge. Her head swam. As if in a bizarre nightmare, she pictured Skye smashing into the rocks below, limbs twisting and cracking.

  Breathe! Think! She must save Skye. Can’t let her fall.

  The dry branch cracked. Skye screamed and fell.

  Instinctively, Gilly reached out. “Halt that fall! Come wind, come leaves, cradle my girl, lift her up and bring her back to me.”

  Shimmering Light surrounded Skye. She hovered midair, her body limp. Slowly a breeze stirred the droplets of Light surrounding the child. Fallen leaves rose from the ground to cradle Skye and then lifted her higher to gently place her on Gilly’s outstretched arms.

  “Gilly,” Skye said, awakening. “What happened?”

  “I have you. You are safe.”

  Skye stared at Gilly quizzically and then said, “You can put me down, now.”

  Startled, she realized she stood carrying her niece’s weight equally on both her legs. She knelt to set Skye down. Her lame leg felt as strong as the other. Before she could ponder that physical oddity, Gilly heard the sound she dreaded most. Hooves pounded. Swords clashed. Horses snorted. She swung around expecting to see the King’s Horsemen.

  The plains were empty of riders. Her goats watched from below, curious but unconcerned. Despite the evidence of her eyes, Gilly was worried. She had performed magic. High magic.