Descent

For Ouma

‘Wow! I picked up your book one day on a whim and could not put it down!’

‘Hey, I absolutely love you! I can’t decide [which character] I like better, Jane or Elixia, but I definitely loooove Fern. The ending of
Arrival
made me cry! Can’t wait for
Descent.
’

‘I read your book on the recommendation of a friend and found it to be absolutely wonderful! I cannot wait until
Descent
comes out=)’

‘Hey, loved the book! Can’t wait for the next!’

‘You are FANTASTIC!
Arrival
was the best book to read...it’s been so addicting that I finished it in 2 days! I can’t wait for the other books to be published and I congratulate you for writing something that will, in the future, become known to every teenager out there!’ BEST BOOK EVER!!: D:D:D

‘I’m 12 and me and my best friend just finished reading your book! It was INCREDIBLE! although you probably already know that!=) We were dying to know what your next book will be called and when it will be out!!! I’m sooooooo excited to read the next book!’

‘I’ve been searching all over the internet for some kind of news about Charlotte and the next book...so can’t wait for the next one, I stayed up all night reading the first!’

‘I’m Cheri from Taiwan (13 years old). A friend of mine just came back from New Zealand and she lent me a book that she borrowed from the school library. It took me two days to finish it and I totally love it!’

‘I just finished reading your novel
Arrival.
It was fantastic to say the least. Well done on such a fantastic achievement. Looking forward to the next installment.’

‘I’ve read
Arrival
and I just wanted to let you know I really enjoyed it. I particularly liked the characters you created. I can’t wait until the next book comes out.’

‘By the second page of
Arrival
I was ensnared. I couldn’t put it down and spent all day reading it and now I want the second book. Please, please tell me that it is going to be released soon and how quickly I can buy it.’

‘I SO enjoyed reading this book. Lord of the Rings-ish ... with shades of Juliet Marillier and pinches of 80s movie fantasy classics like
Labyrinth
and
Willow.
If you like epic, sweeping sagas that are unapologetically global-romantic with that YA gilt edge, then you’re in for a treat.’

‘I read
Arrival
and I truly fell in love with it, it’s an amazing book with a fantastic story. So much love and adventure blended together. I just can’t get enough.’

‘Your book was seriously COOL! I just ADORE Jane and Fern. Can’t wait to get my hands on the
Arrival
sequel.’

Part 1

‘Do you realise that there is a serious problem here?’ Amara asked her parents angrily. ‘Don’t you understand what is happening to our people?’

‘Do not be so dramatic,’ her mother said, sighing.

Amara stared at them incredulously. ‘Listen to yourself! You lecture me on how I’m not fulfilling my duties as princess and not adhering to behavioural codes, when we stand in the face of a threat to everyone’s lives! Do you think your priorities might be a little mixed up? You are not doing
your
duty as High King and Queen! Our people need leaders—’

‘Amara!’ her father snapped, ‘Do not speak to us in such a way—remember your place here!’

‘I may as well remember my place—you’ve both certainly forgotten yours.’

Amara breathed out and tried to compose herself. They stood in her father’s study in the palace at Amalia, and she knew that outside the walls her people were gathering, frightened to their core because they understood that something was coming for them.

‘All right,’ she said evenly. ‘Tell me what plans you have. Outline what actions you are going to take to rectify all of this.’

‘How do you expect us to know what to do?’ her mother replied. ‘Nothing like this has ever happened before!’

‘It’s your job to know! You have to know—there is no one else. You need to think of something.’

‘Darling, you just worry about getting to the dinner on time,’ her father said. ‘There will be several prospective suitors there. Let us worry about the rest.’

Amara stared at her parents. She was just sixteen years old, and hated her life in the palace. The boredom and monotony were driving her mad, and in truth she would admit to feeling a little excitement about the situation that had arisen.

She shook her head slowly. ‘Get to the dinner on time,’ she repeated. ‘I won’t be at the dinner at all. I’m sorry. I’m leaving.’

‘What?’ her mother exclaimed.

‘I’m leaving Uns Lapodis. I hate it here. I
hate
it. And if you are going to behave like this, then I’m ashamed to be a daughter of yours. Ashamed to be the princess of a regime you symbolise. I’m going away. I don’t know when I’ll be back.’

There was, of course, uproar from her parents. They wouldn’t let her go, she was too young, the world was dangerous, it was not appropriate for a princess to be travelling on her own...

It went on. But she left anyway, feeling as though she might suffocate if she did not. So many things weren’t right anymore. She needed something else.

So Amara disguised herself as a commoner and boarded a ship for Cynis Witron. It was there, they said, that there was a wise man at the top of a mountain, and she knew that if she did not find help then there would be none.

Something terrible was about to happen to the world of Paragor.

Her journey took a long time. Finally she reached the shores of the new land and set off on horse-back. It seemed to Amara that the moons, Lindel and Jael, shone more brightly in this country. Maybe it was the presence of freedom, finally, clearing her vision.

Most nights she managed to disguise herself and sleep
at taverns, but even then it was dangerous—few failed to recognise her beauty, even if they did not know her name. So Amara, High Princess of the treaty countries in Paragor, slept under the stars in a forest that seemed as big as the world, and it came to be that she stumbled upon a battle. One of the first of the war. It had all begun.

Hiding in a grove, exhausted from her travels, she fell into a fitful sleep, hoping she’d come far enough away from the battle that the armies might not find her.

Some time later, Amara awoke under the stars in her small glade of cedar. Bright flowers surrounded her, shimmering in the evening light with a beauty she’d never known. Mist hugged her body so that it seemed like she might be in a place that held a little magic.

Her white mare was nearby, grazing quietly.

Amara sat, lonely and frightened, shivering though the air was warm.

That was when he came. Out of the forest, out of the mist. Tall and dark, walking with a steady, graceful stride.

There was a sadness about him, and wisdom, despite his youth. He walked heavily—as though he carried the burden of immense things inside him.

Amara was the High Princess. She’d met countless people, from all backgrounds. She had conversed with aristocracy, had met the most intelligent, wealthy dukes, and had danced with many lords. And yet she had seen nothing like what this man held in his eyes.

Jael, the peace moon, came out from behind a cloud and shone down into the glade, casting a strange blue light. Diana, goddess of the twin moons was watching.

The man was close now, and she could see the wounds that covered him, the slight limp when he walked. She should be afraid. He was clearly a warrior—there was a long sword in his hand and he looked as though he
could use it. But she wasn’t afraid. Not at all.

He stopped in front of Amara and bowed his head. She saw herself reflected in his dark grey eyes. She saw the cut on his cheek, and the wound in his chest.

‘What do you do here, lady?’ he asked softly, something very intimate in his deep voice.

‘I don’t know,’ she replied truthfully. ‘I think we stand in a place where many things are unknown.’

‘True spoken.’ He paused, hesitating. ‘I do not wish to intrude, but ... might I ask of you your aid? It is not much, but I am wounded and very weary.’

‘You might ask it,’ she said softly. She did not have to give it. She was in a place of beauty and not a little fear, with a man who was armed and unknown to her. She was confused and weary herself. She did not have to give it.

But how could she not, when her heart had belonged to him from the moment he appeared out of the mist? How could she not, when she had found the other half of her soul in the time it takes a man to walk across an open glade?

She tended his wounds, using water from his pack and strips of his shirt, and what little knowledge she had of such things.

He made no sound, but she could see the pain in his eyes, and he saw it reflected in her own.

‘What is your name?’ she asked.

‘Fern,’ he replied.

‘And you come from the battle?’

He nodded. ‘I must go back. Now that I can.’

She looked at him and nodded.

But he didn’t move. He sat with her in that place, despite what was happening around them. He might have asked who she was, to be sitting in the midst of a glade waiting, seemingly, to heal his wounds. But he didn’t.
Finally he stood, casting a last look down at her, giving her everything he had to give by simply meeting her gaze. And then he smiled, and she felt the world change.

He didn’t say anything before he left, and she closed her eyes that she might not have to watch him walk away.