The Last Singer (The Falcon Chronicles Book 1) Read online

  “You can’t see it from here, but the archery area is on the back side of the rock-climbing zone. That’s something I really enjoy.” Marta spoke easily as she ran. “Perhaps we can go together.”

  “I’d love that.” I could only manage three words without huffing. Disappointed, I was determined to do better next time out.

  Marta flicked a quick glance my way. “Let’s rest when we get to the waterfall, Jarryd.”

  I saw her nod toward me followed by my brother’s quick scrutiny of my face. I didn’t object when they finally stopped. With more practice, I knew I could beat Jarryd. I always had. One day I’d outrun them, but not today.

  I took a few deep breaths then gasped when I noticed the surroundings.

  “This is the aqua zone. You can practice free diving and distance swimming. You’ll need those skills if you want to participate in the games. And there’s Hypor Falls.” Marta pointed to the far left. A thirty-foot high chute of water plunged into a turquoise pool. As we watched, a diver leaped from the cliff top into the swirling waters at the base of the falls. From there, the pool broadened into a rectangular expanse where others raced in defined lanes.

  “Do I have to dive as well?” I’d never learned to swim and didn’t relish the idea of jumping into water from any height. “For Steepchase, I mean.”

  Jarryd twigged to my unease. “It changes every year. You might not need to dive this year, but you definitely have to be able to swim.”

  I wrinkled my nose at him. He was like a seal in the water and although sympathetic, he couldn’t understand my fear.

  “I have a friend who helped me speed up my stroke,” said Jarryd. “I’m sure he’d teach you to swim if I asked. If you want to compete you’ll have to learn.”

  I heard the challenge in his words and saw his tight grin.

  Marta jumped in. “Don’t pressure her, Jarryd. Steepchase isn’t for everyone. Some of us just like to watch.”

  I bit my tongue and stifled a retort. I had to remind myself that she was only trying to help. Jarryd and I had always competed, something Marta didn’t understand. But this time there was more than just a sibling competition on my mind. Steepchase might be my way out of Hypor City.

  “Let’s run again. Are you up for it, Jarryd?” I asked.

  “More than you,” he laughed before speeding off, leaving us trailing behind.

  It took several minutes to circle the swimming area. Small huts appeared from time to time. Among the trees, there were a number of grassy sites where people lounged and chatted. It was impossible to believe that those who had designed the other domes had built this place. It was a different world. My kind of different.

  Soon, we were back where we started.

  “Let’s introduce Brynna to Swigs,” said Marta.

  We ran a few more feet then veered right. When we finally stopped I hunched over, gulping air.

  “We’re here.” She placed her hand on my back.

  I looked up at a large red sign with black lettering—SWIGS.

  A low wall surrounded small tables scattered across a patio. A barrel-like container held a variety of juice bottles cooling in ice. We selected our drinks and chose a vacant table under a tree. It offered the impression of shade, even though there was no direct sunlight.

  Nearby, others watched players huddled in concentration over board games, giving encouragement or booing bad moves. Tired runners greeted us as they made their way to an empty seat. The atmosphere was friendly and easy.

  “So what do you think, Bryn?” Jarryd took a long swallow of his drink and stretched out his legs.

  “I can’t believe this is still Hypor City. I wish I’d seen the recpod the first day. I wouldn’t have felt so depressed by all the beige.”

  “I should have brought you here sooner, but I thought you’d be with Calia.”

  Marta gave my hand a quick squeeze. “I’m sorry you’ve had a rough time with her. The good news is that she doesn’t come here. Not the athletic type, I guess.”

  “She’s more interested in men at the moment. Prince Delio for one.” It slipped out. I hadn’t meant to tell anyone. I didn’t want to fall into gossip mode.

  My brother leaned his forearms on the table. “How do you know? Did you see them together?”

  He didn’t gossip so I knew he had other reasons for asking.

  I told them the whole story about what had occurred that afternoon on the seventh floor. I left out the part about the second guard.

  “So that’s what happened to Weyland.” Anger tinged his voice.

  “Who’s Weyland?”

  “He’s the colleague I told you about—the one that found the data on the CMEs. He left the office this afternoon but returned a few minutes later with a cut on his eyebrow. I asked him what had happened, but he was too shaken to speak.”

  Marta shook her head in disbelief. “Why would Prince Delio hit someone like Weyland? He’s harmless.”

  “The son is a bully just like his father. They pick on the weak.” Jarryd made a fist. “Maybe next time we meet I’ll have a chat with him.”

  “You mustn’t,” Marta placed her hands on his fist. “Not now, when the council is so divided. Any further friction might create a rift that nothing will heal.”

  “What friction?” This was something new I hadn’t heard.

  Jarryd ignored my question. “Then I’ll just have to protect Weyland as best I can.” He paused. “Bryn, would you object if I brought him home with us on our monthly break?”

  “I wouldn’t mind, but you’d better let the parents know.”

  “Marta, do you want to come as well? It’s time you met my mother anyway.” He winked at her.

  She looked at me for consent. I liked that, so I nodded. My earlier jealousy was gone. We finished our drinks and headed back to the change rooms.

  As I started to ask about the friction she’d mentioned, Marta spoke first. “Don’t worry about Calia,” she said as we slipped on our jubas. “Once she sees she can’t push you around, she’ll find someone else to pick on—or die trying.”

  I laughed, but I knew that Calia’s love of gossip could make my life very uncomfortable.

  “We’d better go. Men always complain if they have to wait too long.”

  Outside, feigning impatience, Jarryd tapped his foot and smiled.

  “I’m going to walk Marta back to her dorm. Do you want to come?” Marta’s room was in a pod near the marketplace that housed artists and other vendors.

  “No thanks. Three’s a crowd. I’ll see you soon.” I delayed a moment and watched them saunter away, hand in hand. To have that connection was something special.

  Green eyes flashed across my mind. Perhaps one day it would happen for me.

  In no hurry to see Calia, I strolled back to my dorm. I logged into the message screen outside but found no notes, malicious or otherwise. Upon entering our room, I was surprised to discover a new girl occupying Calia’s space. Only someone in authority could change room assignments. Someone like Prince Delio.

  Relieved that my tormentor was gone from the dorm, I wasn’t optimistic about how she’d behave at work. Next morning, however, she wasn’t at her usual workstation beside me. She’d wheedled permission to change places with one of the men across the room.

  Despite her threats, I hoped that some memory of our past relationship would soften her feelings toward me. Instead, she took every opportunity to undermine me.

  “You’ve made another mistake, Bokk,” she’d called in a loud voice just as Dench entered the media lab one day. “I won’t continue to cover for you any longer.”

  “What’s this?” Dench responded as expected. “What mistake?” Everyone knew his obsession with accuracy.

  This time, her accusation backfired. Carrot and Stick protested that I wasn’t the culprit but that Calia had misread a translation. The supervisor confirmed their claim. She got a lecture on sloppiness and had one more reason to hate me.

  Surprisingly, my rif
t with Calia had positive consequences.

  Carrot was first to approach me. “Don’t let her rattle you.”

  Others found reasons to linger at my workstation and chat. Within days, I felt accepted and more comfortable than I had previously but I still preferred to spend most of my free time alone at the recpod. Without anyone noticing, I could sing softly or hum as I ran.

  I revisited the market to see if Marta was there. Without the crowds I noticed it was inviting and airy, much like the recpod. At one end of the dome, a theater screened documentaries about Hypor City and its achievements. There was another cafe like Swigs and many more stalls selling jewelry and sculpture, paintings and drawings.

  I didn’t see Marta but was enjoying another artist’s display of stone carvings when I looked up and spied Calia and Prince exiting the theater. Chills pricked up my spine. I dropped my head and pulled my hood forward then headed for the exit. I didn’t want trouble.

  From then on, the recpod became my sanctuary. Day after day, my muscles grew stronger. I climbed faster, jumped farther, and ran longer. I was soon passing others in the speed lane, pushing body and mind to exhaustion.

  As my confidence grew, I braved rock climbing. I had a good head for heights but discovered I still needed more strength. I was determined to one day make it all the way to the top of the dome.

  Marta promised to give me pointers at the archery range after we returned from work break. I’d made good progress on the obstacle course and my running times were improving consistently, but I had avoided my worst terror.

  Swimming was my final obstacle. If I wanted to qualify for Steepchase, I’d have to learn to swim. Jarryd’s friend might be willing to help, but did I have the courage to let him?

  11

  Work Break

  Our lander glistened in the sunshine outside Hypor’s main dome. Finally, we were going home.

  Father waited beside our vehicle. The crease between his eyebrows deepened as we approached. His stern gaze focused on me. I knew he’d heard about my reprimand.

  Jarryd quickly introduced Marta and Weyland. Father’s greeting was curt, especially toward Weyland, who fidgeted continuously. I smiled and kept silent. My father might not be pleased about having company, but I was delighted because I knew that he’d say nothing about my infraction in front of guests.

  His dark demeanor didn’t diminish the excitement I felt when we touched down on our island. Mother stood near the landing area. Her warm smile vanquished all concerns. I was first out of the lander. After a lengthy hug, I left my brother to introduce his guests and ran to my room.

  I threw off my juba. Once in comfortable clothes, I rushed out the back door to the mews. This time I pulled on the new gauntlet. Circe greeted me with a squawk and settled on my arm. I’d been away for almost a month, but she hadn’t forgotten me.

  I hurried toward the exit, anxious to be alone with my falcon, but Jarryd’s form filled the doorway. He knew me too well.

  “Bryn. Marta and I need some private time to talk to the parents. Can you show Weyland around?”

  Hearing his name, Weyland poked his head from behind my brother. His forlorn appearance tugged at my heart. I remembered that day in the hallway when he lay hurt. He needed a friend and I knew what that felt like.

  Though I wanted to be by myself and climb to my perch and sing, courtesy and compassion made refusal impossible. I’d missed my music, but I’d have to wait. Singing in front of Weyland or anyone outside the family was forbidden. Perhaps we could walk through the forest or do some climbing. Then I remembered his clumsiness.

  When he saw my raptor, he moved forward and lifted his hand towards Circe.

  “Careful, she bites strangers. Even me sometimes,” Jarryd warned before turning back to the house.

  I held my breath when Circe’s intimidating hooked beak opened, but to my surprise, she didn’t bite Weyland. Her head swiveled and fathomless black eyes peered at him as his finger stroked her wing feathers.

  Weyland was different and this pricked my curiosity. In addition to being smart, he obviously had an affinity with animals. Maybe I’d learn more about him and the threat if I could gain his trust.

  I lifted my arm.

  As Circe swept skyward, he stood as if awestruck. His gaze followed every swoop.

  “Okay, let’s go.” When he didn’t respond, I used his name. “Let’s go exploring, Weyland.”

  This time, he looked at me. The eyes that met mine twinkled with excitement. As we entered the forest, he stopped to examine leaves, veins and stems, stroke and smell the flowers, and brush his fingertips in the rugged grooved bark of old-growth trees. It was like watching a child discover the world. I sensed that he hadn’t had much fun in his life.

  “Have you always lived in Hypor City, Weyland?”

  He shook his head looking puzzled by my question. “No.”

  “Where is your family?” Perhaps he had relatives. Maybe he wasn’t alone.

  “Don’t know.”

  He looked sad and didn’t elaborate. I decided not to pry.

  “Weyland, I’m going to climb the rocks. You can come up or wander through the woods.” There was no way of getting lost on our small island. All paths eventually led back home or to the village.

  When he didn’t answer, I ran to a low boulder and pushed off the ground, landing and jumping easily from one rock to the next. Working out at the recpod had paid off. My feet and balance were sure. I reached the mountain ridge in less than usual time.

  I found my spot and sat, dangling my legs over the edge. Weyland plunked down beside me seconds later.

  “What? How…?” Was this the same man who had stumbled into Prince?

  A bashful expression crossed his face. “I watched where you put your feet and copied how you moved. Focus and control. Mind over body.”

  “What else are you hiding?” I sounded snarky and immediately felt bad when he looked wounded. “Sorry, Weyland. I was surprised that’s all.”

  I tried to make up for my rudeness by telling him the history of the island and the village; how we’d played as kids, making tree forts, pretending to ward off pirates on the beach, collecting discarded crab shells for our curiosity cupboard. He listened intently but said little. Finally, I ceased my commentary and breathed in the silence.

  “Your voice,” was all he said.

  My throat muscles tightened. I’d been humming softly, unconsciously. It was a stupid mistake. “What about my voice?”

  “You’re a singer.” It was a statement, not a question. I felt his eyes on me.

  How did he know about singers?

  I didn’t meet his gaze. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Sing something for me.” He made the request as if certain I’d comply.

  I wanted to sing, but denial was the only option and I hated lying. I was pondering what to say when he touched my arm.

  “I promise not to tell anyone. I’m good at keeping secrets.” His voice was solemn and its vibration was true.

  I still hesitated. There was too much at stake.

  At that moment, Circe descended and perched beside Weyland. He stroked his finger down her breast. She sat quietly, her dark eyes trusting him. Could I trust him too?

  Being home and safe, the urge to unleash my voice was stronger than usual.

  “Please?”

  His soft appeal defeated the last of my resistance. One deep breath and my voice soared through five octaves then flowed into an island folk song. Eyes closed, I trembled as the music and tones pulsed through my body. Time lost meaning. The unity of breath and vocal cords intensified the vibrations. Higher, stronger, I pushed beyond, unaware of my surroundings until I felt Weyland slump against me.

  “What happened? Are you okay?” Maybe I’d been wrong to trust him. Was he weak in other ways too?

  I felt his brow. Instinct overcame shock and I started a low hum.

  Circe flapped her wings as if trying to revive him.

  He sl
owly regained consciousness and attempted to stand, but I grabbed his arm and kept him seated.

  I felt a little weak myself.

  “Your voice.” Fear wove through his words. “It hurt me.”

  “Sorry.” I was surprised, but even more curious. “How?”

  “The higher notes are brown and black. They hurt.” He must have detected my confusion. “I see the colors of your voice. The lower notes are yellow, orange and red. They are warm and comforting. The higher notes are harsh and dark.”

  Femin use the low notes for healing, so his reactions to those made sense. It was possible that higher vibrations had a different use, but Mother had never mentioned them.

  “I don’t understand.” I tried to hide my urgency. “How do you see the colors?”

  “I’m a synesthete.”

  “What’s that?” I’d never heard the term. Had he made it up?

  “I hear sounds as colors. Special gift I inherited from my mother. Some people think I’m crazy.” His quick glance looked for understanding. “You won’t tell, will you? Promise?”

  “I promise.” I raised my hand, binding the oath.

  “Your voice is strong. High notes have power. Before I passed out, my body shook like it was coming apart, molecule by molecule.” He stared at his splayed hands before clasping them together as if to ensure they were solid.

  Shocked and confused by his reaction, I mumbled out another ‘sorry.’ I needed to talk to my mother. There had to be an explanation.

  “Very interesting feeling.” His voice was steadier and curious. “You have a special gift too. We must explore your abilities further. Could be important.”

  “It’s a secret. My singing, I mean.” There had been relief in sharing, but now I wished I hadn’t. “You have to promise not to tell anyone.”

  He lifted his hand, confirming his promise. “Trust me, Brynna Bokk. I’ll kept your secret.”