Earth Wright Chronicles (1-2) by Miriam Logan
Requirements: ePUB / MOBI Reader, 1.2MB
Overview: I should have stayed on the stupid spaceship. I was intrigued by the planet’s name and its link to my past, so I allowed myself to be sweet talked into an unauthorized excursion. But ‘Hidden Agenda’ does not even begin to explain why my crew brought me to Terra El, only to use me. Now some of us have been maroon and enslaved on a pre penicillin world where girls hide daggers in their sleeves and mythical beasts are spoiled, vicious pets. I have to survive here, because rescue is coming.
Genre: Fiction > Sci-Fi/Fantasy
#1 – Terra El
So, I’ll try to fit in and get along, but it’s so hard. But not because of the aliens. Many look just like me. In fact, they think of me as a stolen child. They are kind and smart-but I won’t allow myself to get attached to them-because rescue is coming.
It’s hard to fit in because I’m changing on the inside. I cause impossible things to happen that I do not intend. It started the moment my Homeland Consortium boots touched the fertile soil of the alien meadow. I felt something within me stir the moment the alien sun warmed my cheek. Something is awakening, bright and wonderful, yet rough and deadly. I feel like I am being weaponized from the inside. There is another here like me, who wants to help me. But what’s the point? Why get attached? Because, after all, rescue is coming.
Soon, I will be back on the Dogged Explorer in my sterile little lab, growing my sprouts and laughing with my crew about our misadventure. With the healing of my brand and a bit of plastic surgery, all will be forgiven and forgotten. It will be as if Terra El never happened, because I was rescued.
But if you are wondering, this is how it all began.
#2 – The Changeling Witch
Why, oh WHY didn’t I stay on the stupid space ship? It ‘s 48 hours later and my life is careening out of control. Rocketing from war prize to First Apprentice of the Mist Lands, I am doing and saying things I never dreamed possible, and the only being that can save me from myself is dying at my feet. This day, once so hopeful, is now fraught with desperation.
It began like this:
Damp from a hasty shower after the debacle at the dojo, Sedea could not help but wonder what her life would have been like if she had just stayed on the stupid space ship. Breathless from rushing, Sedea stood in front of the stables. Holding a leather thong in her teeth, she whipped her dripping hair into a tight braid, expect for the twin temple braids that everyone had. Sedea found them annoying. She didn’t have silver beads to weight them down, so hers kind of stuck out like overly long braided bangs. The hand-me-down blouse, layered over her middy top, clung to a wet spot on her back. During the interim at the dojo, while she was dislocating Captain Azrael’s shoulder, someone modified her gray Homeland Consortium uniform pants. They now sported matching demur front and rear pelvic flaps, heavily embroidered in a dusty green. Her boots and winter coat, though, were still pure Consortium standard issue. The coat, the rips and burnt cuff repaired, was too heavy for the blossoming day, but it brought a comfort to her beyond warmth.
She skewed the metallic bowstring collar to the side so the silver chain hung over the top of her jacket, away from her tender burn, which was well slathered with Eon’s soothing poultice. From there, she fed the chain through her shoulder epilate and then coiling it neatly, she slipped it into her jacket’s front breast pocket, pressing the zip-lock as tight as she could to secure it.
Collecting herself, she stood quietly and surveyed the area. The stable was a stone structure of impressive proportions, with the odd metallic roof she had noticed on other architectures during the forced march after her capture. A cobble stone courtyard was edged with a white washed split rail fence. Spring flowers in yellow and purple and poke-a-dots peeked from the bases of fence posts and building corners. White washed double Dutch door stalls opened onto the courtyard, with an inquisitive equine face, horned or smooth, framed in every one.
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