Authors: Nicola McDonagh
A Silence Heard
Chapter One Towards The Place Of Danger
Chapter Three When Lies Are Better Than Truth
Chapter Four What Lies beneath
Chapter Ten Pressing Anything So Long As It Works
Chapter Eleven Agros Play roughly
Chapter Thirteen Revolt Of The Meeks
Chapter Fourteen More Revolting Meeks
Chapter Fifteen A Bloody Battle Ensues
Chapter Sixteen A time For Letting Go
Chapter Seventeen The Power of Light
Chapter Eighteen Never Underestimate Your Enemy
Chapter Nineteen Into The Fray
Chapter Twenty-Two Things Get Worse
Chapter Twenty-Three What The Huff?
Chapter Twenty-Four Transmutation
The Song of Forgetfulness
Book Three
A Silence Heard
By
Nicola McDonagh
http://www.thesongofforgetfulness.com
Books in
The Song of Forgetfulness
series
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events portrayed are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any character resemblance to actual persons living or dead is entirely co-incidental.
No part of this work may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical without written permission from the author.
All new edition
Copyright © 2015 Nicola McDonagh
All rights reserved.
ASIN
B00YPIKDWS
Cover design by Daphne deMuir
Original photographs by Nicola McDonagh
To Martin for his website skills, belief in me and support along the way. To Sarah and Sasha, who continue to inspire me.
Chapter One
Towards The Place Of Danger
There are some that believe in telempathy. I did not, until now. Hearing my bro-bro’s panic-filled voice deep within my noggin, gave me more than pause for thought. Did he call to me? Or was it just a phantom of my guilt, haunting my lack of resolve to go to him. Like that ancient-ancient pretend male, Aamlet, who said he would revenge the death of his father, but did nowt but whine and think himself into a stupor.
That was what I had been doing under the tutorage of Brother Jude, or rather, that Agro spy-scum, Atyhtan. Well, I fixed him with my song. He’ll not harm another. So take that, Aamlet, Prince of The Great Dane of Mark. The time for speculation is gone. Mebbe I did hear Deogol, mebbe not, but whomever or whatever spoke to me, fired up my resolve to save my bro and all the Meeks taken by the Agro filth.
With such new-found determination, I vowed to be less sissy about many things, including my antsy at hovering high above ground level in this flying contraption. Jaw clenched, I buckled in and turned my thoughts to the journey ahead.
I had not the faintest notion of where we were going, but hoped it would not be far. Then I went all Aamlet again ruminating on what that other Carnie, Ryce, meant by his cryptic words. Cut short by Marcellus’s hand. My Clonie pal was adept and then some at the ultra-quick neck snap. If only the Bardy Shake the Spear had known my dear one, then his make-believe male would have had more spunk.
Still, the things the costumed spy did say were alarming. The hints he spouted about Agro meddling with genetics to create the Meeks, would mean that my bro was perhaps not my bro. Nah. Deogol looks like me, or so the oldies said when they chanced to come upon us at the occasional celebrations we held in Cityplace. Nah again. The Carnie scum was telling me, or half telling me, nowt but fibs. He was not a trustworthy sort and would do anything to befuddle me and mine in order to escape. I vowed to keep his mouthing’s to myself and think of more pressing issues. Or not.
“If all are ready and safely tethered, I will switch on. Would you do me the honour?” Eadgard said and gestured for Kendra to sit next him. She did and dictated the coordinates from the map the Abbot gave us. Eadgard punched them into the panel thingy on the dashboard and both he and she guffawed all loudly when he tip-tapped in a wrong digit.
They went as red as a bubs cheeks when their fingers just happened to touch as they reached to right the mistake. He coughed, pressed a button and the craft juddered into life. Glad to be between Wirt and Marcellus, I held a hand of each and gulped as my tum flipped over.
The engines vibrated and sent a wave of sickly-feel throughout my bod. Marcellus gripped my hand tighter as the flying machine began to ascend. I leant back into the soft headrest of the chair and closed my eyes. But dizziness ensued, so I quickly lifted my lids to prevent an attack of vom and stared out of the cockpit.
Far, far below was the monastery where I had learned about the horrors of the real past, and the uncertain future. It continued to sparkle even when it shrank to nowt more than a shining speck as we soared higher into the sky.
The aircraft hit a pocket of air and we plummeted for a sec before Eadgard steadied it.
All the titbits that I had so readily consumed before our leaving made ready to escape from my innards and I panted loudly to dispel the taste of not quite digested grub. I guessed Marcellus felt much the same as I for he too gagged and gasped, but managed not to puke.
With nowt to do but ponder upon our mysterious destination, I squeezed the hands of my two friends to help me focus on what I needed to do once we got there. But the contrasting sensation of Wirt’s soft flesh and Marcellus’s rough skin was such a distraction, that I gave up all wonderings to muse upon this curious sensation. It did the trick and I quite forgot my height fears and boldly looked out of the window at the big white clouds that passed over and through us.
There was not so much to see, though. The ever-changing cloud swirls all but blocked out any view of land or mountain. I heard Marcellus take in a large breath from time to time and I let go my hold on Wirt’s flesh to fumble in my Synthbag for anti-retch pills. I found some and gave one to Marcellus. He took it and gulped it down without the need for water.
Another free-fall caused a bilious attack, so I collected moist in my mouth, swallowed the tab and took hold of Wirt’s hand again. He pulled it up and used it to point at the window to the side of his head. I turned mine and stretched up my neck to see out. The clouds had dispersed and I could just make out below a vast stretch of flatlands tinged in green and yellow. Wirt relinquished my mitt and sat forward between Kendra and Eadgard.
“Do ye see underneath us? Fields I think, as far as the eye can see.”
“I do indeed see, Wirt. This means that we should reach our destination quite soon. Is that not so Kendra?”
“If my reading of this text is correct, then we should be arriving near the Agro headquarters.” She nodded. “Makes sense to be going there. Where else would they take the kiddles? No doubt those evil land snatchers are up to no good with the Meeks.”
I exchanged a worried-filled look with Eadgard. “Fear not, Adara, we will prevail and save all that have been took.”
Brave words that caused me to smile and gulp at the same time. If we were too late, what then? And, what about Eadgard’s portentous chat about my true mission. The thing inside my skull that should be used for working out such problems, pulsed unpleasantly and I scratched my head in the hope it would wake up my useless brain.
Nope.
With a sigh, I let my limbs go all floppy and watched Eadgard fiddle with his instruments. When that wearied me, I turned my flagging attention to Kendra, who held the map close to her face, and continued to peruse the missive. She screwed her eyes up from time to time in an effort to decipher the old language, then took to mumbling stuff under her breath. Eadgard flicked switches, tapped dials, and we flew on.
I leant nearer to the window and stared in awe at the amount of Agro farmland that seemed to go on forever. The mystery surrounding these nasty, all controlling folk, deepened with every massive food filled field that came into view. I knew they dominated near all the land that was left in NotSoGreatBritAlbion, but to see the extent of their hold was scary in the extreme. No one I knew had seen an Agro in the flesh. My mind began to make up pics of their potential form. I shuddered at the nasty images that flitted in and out.
“What makes ye so shivery?”
“Oh, my imagination, Wirt. I am contemplating on what we may encounter when we land. In regards to the form of these enigmatic Agros.”
“Ay, I too wonder at their appearance. From the look of their vast and many land sections, they must be huge and powerful to be able to maintain all theses crops. My kin tend to the smaller ones on the edge of our forest, but we never venture far away from our home.”
Our musings ended quite ‘bruptly when we hit another pocket of wind turbulence. Even Wirt gave out a worried “Oh!” as the aircraft fell suddenly. I shuffled my bod closer to that of my Clonie friend. He clutched at my fingers and dug his nails into the back of my hand when Eadgard pulled up from another deep descent. Marcellus quickly apologised, went to pull his mitt away from mine, but I had gotten used to his firm grip and refused to let go. Wirt gave us a raised-brow glance and chewed on his fingernails.
“The air above these Agros is as troublesome as they are,” he said and sat back to concentrate on nibbling the rest of his fingertip protectors.
“If we can overcome them and their security as easily as I have dodged these wind turbulences, then we will have not much to fear,” Eadgard said.
Wirt pursed his lips and spat out a piece of nail. “Agros be fierce, ye do know that right?”
“Yes, Wirt.”
“Fierce and ruthless with weapons beyond our…”
Marcellus leant across me and stared into Wirt’s eyes. When they were almost touching noses, he said all gruff-like, “We not fear Agro. We welcome chance to fight.”
“But we are only five. How do ye imagine so small a group faring against the might and terror of the Agro?”
Without blinking, they stared at each other for quite a few secs. “Point make is good,” Marcellus said and flumped into his chair.
We all sat for a while deep in thought, I think, at least, I was and judging by the look of concentration on Wirt’s and Marcellus’s face, they were too. Either that or they were trying to hold in a fart. I became uncomfortable with the silence and thought it best to break it with a lame idea or two.
“Erm, I may be of use. What with my voice and all.”
Kendra gave me a look of kindness. “Of course dear. You have a great talent. But for what lies ahead, it may not be enough. Things are written here that suggest our involvement. According to this note, and I shall read, ‘A time will come when the corrupt will be beaten. When the Smart, their word for Meeks, shall be saved. When an army will gather and the truth will be told.”
“We are the army? By the Greenman, that is beyond dismal,” Wirt said and starting the nail nibbling again.
Marcellus hung his head. “Small army. Not good.”
I stared at the crestfallen faces of all my friends, then down at the limitless squares of field upon field that Agros ruled, and felt something stir within. A possible plan burst inside my noggin. “Nah, Marcellus, good to be so tiny. If we were to storm in all powerful and the like, then for sure we would be despatched. They would see us all a-coming before we even arrived.”
Kendra grinned and nodded her head. “You are quite right my dear. If I may take your notion further?” she said and unbuckled herself. “Who would suspect a band of sightseers, as we must present ourselves when we arrive, as anything but innocent?”