War of the Innocents Read online

  Llanelyn:

  War of the Innocents

  Book 2 in the Llanelyn Series

  Michelle Breon

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

  First Edition

  ISBN-13 978-1977789761

  ISBN-10 1977789765

  Text copyright © 2017 Michelle Breon

  All Rights Reserved

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission.

  Printed in the United States of America.

  Illustrations and cover by Lindsey Drayton Bird.

  Map of Llanelyn by Michelle Breon.

  To my loving husband for giving me the encouragement to follow my dreams.

  To my family, friends, and new friends who believed enough to take a chance on my first book. Your encouragement, critique, and feedback have helped me tremendously. I shall always endeavor to learn and grow. You keep me inspired.

  To my wonderful content editors, Kurt and Susan, for catching all those nuance details that I thought I wrote down but left in my head. Any mistakes left herein are solely my fault.

  Llanelyn: War of the Innocents

  Chapter 1 More Dreams

  Chapter 2 Clues in the Leaves

  Chapter 3 Fear Not the Lake

  Chapter 4 Angel in Heaven

  Chapter 5 The Past Revealed

  Chapter 6 Beyond a Reasonable Doubt

  Chapter 7 Earth Federation

  Chapter 8 Not Important

  Chapter 9 Old Friends and New Friends

  Chapter 10 The Price of Protection

  Chapter 11 Lessons in Innocence

  Chapter 12 Divide and Conquer

  Chapter 13 Trouble in Zanzi-Bar

  Chapter 14 One Final Lesson

  Chapter 15 Win Some, Lose Some

  Chapter 16 A Shot in the Dark

  Chapter 17 Renewed Vigilance

  Chapter 18 Trust in the Goodness

  Chapter 19 Fishing with the Proper Bait

  Chapter 20 The Man in Black

  Chapter 21 Battlefields Above and Below

  Chapter 22 Innocence Lost

  Chapter 1

  More Dreams

  Gillian Caylen sat up in the boat suddenly, startling Mischka. Panicked, she looked around quickly, causing the small wooden boat to rock gently, the still crystal waters of the lake rippling away from the sudden disturbance.

  “Tis something wrong?”

  Breathing heavily, Gillian forced herself to relax backward. “Just a dream,” she said. The bright spring sun shone high overhead, but she could still see the darkness of the whirlpool, still hear the message from the Gods. “The new Cerato has been chosen. You must prepare her for what tis to come. Your tenure tis almost done.” Unwilling to alarm Mischka, she remained quiet.

  Mischka watched his wife carefully as he rowed the small boat towards the wooden pier, fully aware that she was not telling him the whole story. Over the thirty-six years he had known Gillian, he had learned her many moods and signs. Something had startled her out of her nap and, whatever it was, had scared her. He would keep a close eye on her until she was ready to let him in on the secret. Reaching the pier, he secured the small wooden rowboat before reaching out a hand to steady her as she stepped onto the wooden planks of the pier. The trees surrounding the lake provided shade, the coolness soothing after the heat of the sun. Mischka pulled her close for a hug before helping her into the waiting hovercraft for the drive back to their sandstone village. He remained silently watchful while Gillian pensively stared across the plowed fields and small herds of bó-ainmhí grazing on the wild grasslands,

  Gillian wondered who the new Cerato was and what she should be preparing her for. Over the next several days, she thought about all the subtle changes she had effected on Llanelyn during her thirty-six-year tenure as Cerato. Each large village hosted a small two-story hotel on the outmost edge, the largest building in the sandstone village. Several more transporter chambers had been built near the hotels. Each year, more and more tourists had visited the planet, paying for the hotel rooms and transporters while everything else remained free. The computer systems had been updated to handle the usual multitude of identity record variations, which helped to track the visitors. She had more silver threads than auburn in her hair from worrying about an increase in crime, but little ever happened. Few visitors stayed longer than three or four days, since most wanted a quiet vacation and not a life of manual labor. Their comments were always the same, a quaint civilization that was very quiet and peaceful, a place to rest, but nothing to do but look at trees and flowers and sandstone buildings. Boredom caused most not to stay, as they preferred the elaborate entertainment centers that Jupiter was famous for to a quiet life in the country.

  The next two weeks passed without any word from the Gods or from the new Cerato. Gillian began to wonder if the dream had been simply a dream. Nothing had changed as far as she could tell from the weekly meetings with the Elders and the Apaugallas. The universe was quiet where Llanelyn’s concerns were and Gillian relaxed.

  Mary headed towards her bedroom to sleep and stopped outside her daughter’s door. Quiet sobs from inside the room told her that Angel was being proud and stubborn again. She tapped on the door. It had been too many nights of tears. Mary decided it was time for an explanation. “Angel, are you alright?” There was no answer, except that the sobs became more muffled. “May I come in?” Mary did not wait for an answer and opened the door.

  Angel lay in the middle of her bed, her pillow covering her face, the covers disarrayed around her.

  Mary crossed the room and sat down on the triangular bed. “What tis the matter?”

  The pillow shook as if to answer “No,” and Mary almost laughed. Gently, she pulled the pillow away to reveal Angel’s tear stained face. “I can’t help if you won’t talk to me. Did something happen at school?”

  Angel shook her head and tried vainly to pull the covers over her face, but Mary stopped her.

  “Angel, what tis the matter? You’re acting as if tis serious.”

  Angel nodded. “I don’t want Grandma to die.”

  Mary paled, but tried to remain calm. “And what makes you think Grandma is going to die?”

  “I had a dream.”

  Mary relaxed. “Tis just a dream. And dreams are not real.” She tenderly brushed the teenager’s red ringlets from her face.

  “But . . . .” Angel sat up, wiping her eyes on the handkerchief that her mother handed her. She took a deep breath to calm herself. She might as well tell all now and be done with it. “But I’ve been having the Cerato dream.” She lowered her voice almost to a whisper. “And I can’t be the Cerato until after she is gone. Tis never happened before.”

  Caught by surprise, Mary could only stare at her in disbelief. When she finally found her voice, she asked, “The Cerato dream? The child’s tale? Are you sure?”

  Angel nodded and wiped away more tears that threatened to fall.

  “For how long?”

  “A week or so now, every night, all night long.” Angel tried not to think about the surreal images in the dream.

  “Come with me.”

  “Where?”

  “To tell your grandmother.”

  Angel pulled away. “No. If I become the Cerato, then what will she be?” Fresh tears threatened to fall.

  “Angel,” her mother began patiently, “only she will know what to do.”

  Mary dragged Angel from her bedroom and into the main room. Mischka dozed in
his chair while Gillian sat reading from one of her antique books on the sofa by the lamp.

  “Mother, Angel needs to talk to you.”

  “Yes, Angel?”

  Angel shook her head and looked pointedly at Mischka. “Someplace else so that we won’t disturb Papa.”

  Gillian nodded in agreement and the three women quietly left the room. They settled into the chairs in the dining room. “Angel?”

  Angel hesitated, loving the old woman and fearing that the news she had would hurt.

  “Go on. Tell her.”

  Gillian looked from her daughter to her granddaughter, wondering what could be so important that Mary would get Angel out of bed on a school night. She picked up Angel’s hand and patted it. “Please tell me.”

  Angel took a deep breath and held her grandmother’s hand tighter. “I’ve been having the Cerato dream.”

  Gillian raised her eyebrows in surprise, but that was all. Her own granddaughter was the chosen one. Why her of all people?

  Angel continued in a rush, glad to get this over with. “What should I do now? I don’t want to lose you but nothing in our history indicates that there can be two Ceratos at the same time.” Unbidden, tears began to fall again and Angel hastily brushed them away.

  Gillian understood and pulled Angel into a hug. “Tis glad I am that you told me. For the Gods told me that I was to prepare the next Cerato, yet I did not know who I was to prepare. Tis alright, Angelina,” she crooned, “I’m not going anywhere for a long time.”

  “Truly?”

  “Aiy. Twill take a long time to prepare you for what tis to come.”

  “You sound as if you already know what the future holds,” Mary commented.

  “Aiy, in some ways I do. But what will be the crisis that Angel must lead us through, that I do not know. But tis so much that I must tell you.”

  “So you’re not going to die?”

  Gillian laughed. “Of course not.” She pushed Angel back to look in her eyes. “Tis happened once before and the Gods have told me that I will be here for a good many cyclistas.” She smoothed back the unruly red ringlets clinging to Angel’s damp cheek. “You will simply have to put up with me for a while longer,” she teased.

  Angel hugged her again. “Amourité, Mema.”

  Gillian simply held her granddaughter. Angel was mature for her seventeen years, but why had the Gods chosen a teenager? Questions without answers flooded through her mind and she finally pushed them all aside.

  “Tis sleep you need Angel. I do not know if the dream will come again, but it may until you face the lake. We will talk again tomorrow and figure out what tis best to do. Come to my office after school.”

  Angel pulled away and nodded. “Are you going to tell Papa?”

  “I do not know. I need to think on it. Off to bed now.”

  The three women said good night and Angel kissed both on the cheek before heading back to her bedroom. Mary looked to her mother. Gillian was deep in thought, as she had often been lately. “How can you be sure it’s the real calling?”

  Gillian turned to her and smiled sadly. “Only those who experience the dream know the fear and pain that it can cause. In my dream, I fought to keep from losing someone. Evidently, in Angel’s dream, that someone is me.” She sighed. “Tis so much that she does not understand yet, so much that your father and I have not told anyone and now we must tell her.” Gillian stood up.

  Mary looked up at her. “What are you talking about?”

  “Politics and history, my dear. Enough to make your head spin. Tis time I went to bed for tomorrow will be a long day.”

  Mary simply sat and watched her go, knowing that the quiet life they had always enjoyed was about to change. Several minutes later she finally rose, turning off the lights in the built-in wall sconces as she walked to her bedroom.

  The following day, Gillian waited until they were in her office before she told Mischka. He shook his head in disbelief. “You are sure?”

  “Aiy. I saw the look in her eyes and the Gods told me that the next Cerato had been chosen.”

  “When?”

  “That day on the lake.”

  He nodded, remembering her sudden fright that day. “So what do we do now?”

  “We tell her everything and prepare her, as instructed.”

  “Serious you cannot be. She is only seventeen cyclistas.”

  “Aiy. But if we wait too long, there may not be enough time to explain all. However, I think she should wait for a while to face the lake. The people may have a harder time accepting her due to her age.”

  “Aiy.” He agreed on a sigh. “We wait as long as we can and prepare her in secret.”

  When Angel appeared that afternoon, Gillian told her to do her homework first. Once Angel completed her homework, Gillian coaxed every detail that Angel could remember about her dream from her. Though it had been so many years before, Gillian remembered her dream as if she had dreamed it again last night and Angel’s dream mirrored it almost perfectly. Though Angel said that she could not identify the person she was supposed to save, Gillian suspected there was more to that aspect.

  Gillian took Angel to the tapestry room, explaining the dream and the Gods’ realm as they looked at the tapestries. Suddenly Angel stopped in front of one.

  “It’s him,” she said, staring at the woven image of a man. “He was there. He said two words. ‘History’ and ‘strategy’. What does it mean?”

  Gillian’s breath caught in her throat. She stared at the image of General Rochaerd for several seconds before replying, “They spoke to me about the history of this planet as well. Maybe I am to review that history with you.” If Gillian guessed at the Gods’ intentions correctly, they wanted her to review more than just Llanelyn’s history with Angel.

  “And the strategy? Where does that fit?”

  “I do not know. You will simply have to ask the Gods when you visit them.”

  Over the next several days, Gillian drilled Angel on Llanelyn’s history, pushing back as far as the Great Cataclysm of 240. Angel bored easily on the subject, but knew she had to learn as much as she could, knowing that the Gods only chose a new Cerato when a crisis was coming that could destroy all life on Llanelyn.

  After four frustrating days of tutoring Angel, Gillian decided that she needed help. She did not want to ask the local Teachers Guild for additional work for Angel, knowing that was not what Angel needed. Since her brother-in-law, Dr. Jason De Witt, was on the board at the University of Chicago on Earth now, maybe he would know of someone who could tutor Angel. As soon as Angel went to her room that evening, Gillian called her sister, Morgan. They said the usual pleasantries, catching up on family matters as they always did. Finally Gillian asked to speak with Jason.

  “Hello, Gillian. Morgan said you wanted to ask me something.”

  “Hi. I’m hoping you can help me. I want to hire a tutor for Angel.”

  “Is she having trouble in school?”

  “Not exactly. Is Morgan still in the room with you?”

  “No.”

  “Good. I don’t want to let her know just yet. Angel has been having the Cerato dream, the dream whereby the Gods of Llanelyn choose the next leader for the next big problem the people are about to face.”

  “You mean that dream that made you become the Cerato?”

  “Yes, that’s the one. I’m concerned that Angel is very young for this and I believe that our secret will be a big part in this conflict.”

  “We knew we couldn’t keep it secret forever.” Jason ran his hand through his rumpled salt and pepper hair. “So what do you want to tutor her in?”

  “Everything on Earth, history, higher math, science, government, English. I’m not sure what she will be facing yet.”

  “Alright, I’ll look around and see if I can find someone. Do you want to have the tutor come to Llanelyn or try using the vidphones?”

  “I’d prefer someone to come live here for a while. In case they need to delve deeper into
certain sensitive areas, I’d like to not have to worry about eavesdropping.”

  “That will be harder, but I’ll do the best I can.”

  “Thanks. That’s all I ask for now.”

  “When do you plan to tell Morgan?”

  “Soon, but I’d like to know what the conflict will be before Angel meets the Gods.”

  “Understood. Good luck. I’ll let you know as soon as I find someone.”

  “Thanks. Tell Morgan I’ll call her again in a few days.”

  They said good-bye and Gillian clicked the vidphone off. When she turned around, she jumped when she found Mischka watching her. “You startled me.”

  “Do you really think our secret twill be her task?”

  “I’m not sure. But I think it will play into the task somehow.”

  Mischka sighed. “I had hoped the secret would die with us.”

  “Somehow I knew it wouldn’t.”

  “Come, tis past time for bed for you.”

  Gillian smiled and snuggled up to him, running her fingertips lovingly over the gray stubble on his cheeks. “You’ve always taken care of me.”

  Together they headed for their bedroom, still as in love as the day they married over thirty-six years ago.

  Jason called the next evening. “I have a tutor for you.”

  “Wow, that was fast.”

  “I told him that he would have to live off planet and tutor a High School student in all subjects under the watchful eye of her grandmother.” He chuckled slightly, his brown eyes glinting with mirth.

  Gillian laughed. “I’ll bet that made him think twice about it.”

  “As a matter of fact, yes it did. I also told him that he may not be paid well or at all, but that I would consider it a personal favor to me. He has a few conditions though.”

  “I’ll pay what I can, even if I have to make this government business. And those conditions are?”