Earth and Ember Read online

  Earth and Ember

  A Forgotten Lands Novel

  By Lindsey Pogue

  Copyright © 2021 Lindsey Pogue

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  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission in writing from the author, except as used in book review.

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  This is a work of fiction. Characters, names, places, events or incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to places or incidents is purely coincidental.

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  Editing by Lauren McNerney

  Proofreading by Letter-Eye Editing

  Cover Design by Deranged Doctor Designs

  Contents

  Other Books by Lindsey Pogue

  Acknowledgments

  Author’s Note

  Glossary

  Prologue

  1. Luke

  One Month Later

  2. Luke

  3. Luke

  4. Kaia

  5. Luke

  6. Kaia

  7. Kaia

  8. Luke

  9. Kaia

  10. Luke

  11. Kaia

  12. Luke

  13. Kaia

  14. Kaia

  15. Luke

  16. Luke

  17. Kaia

  18. Luke

  19. Kaia

  20. Kaia

  21. Luke

  22. Kaia

  23. Kaia

  24. Luke

  25. Kaia

  26. Luke

  27. Luke

  28. Kaia

  29. Luke

  30. Kaia

  31. Luke

  32. Kaia

  33. Kaia

  34. Kaia

  35. Luke

  36. Kaia

  37. Luke

  38. Kaia

  39. Kaia

  40. Luke

  41. Luke

  42. Kaia

  43. Luke

  44. Luke

  45. Kaia

  46. Luke

  47. Kaia

  48. Luke

  49. Luke

  50. Kaia

  51. Luke

  52. Kaia

  53. Luke

  Epilogue

  Other Books by Lindsey Pogue

  About Lindsey

  Other Books by Lindsey Pogue

  www.lindseypogue.com

  Survival/Post-Apoc Adventure:

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  FORGOTTEN LANDS

  Dust and Shadow

  Earth and Ember

  Tide and Tempest

  Borne of Sand and Scorn - Prequel (Free for newsletter subscribers)

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  SAVAGE NORTH CHRONICLES

  The Darkest Winter

  The Longest Night Prequel

  Midnight Sun

  Fading Shadows

  Untamed

  Unbroken

  Day Zero: Beginnings

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  THE ENDING SERIES

  After The Ending

  Into The Fire

  Out Of The Ashes

  Before The Dawn

  The Ending: Beginnings

  The Ending Series: World Before

  The Ending Legacies: World After

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  New Adult Love Stories

  SARATOGA FALLS LOVE STORIES

  Whatever It Takes

  Nothing But Trouble

  Told You So

  * * *

  Free stories and VIP access to goodies:

  https://www.lindseypogue.com/newsletter

  * * *

  Patreon access to annotated script notes, exclusive stories, and more: https://www.lindseypogue.com/patreon

  Acknowledgments

  Thank you to my Patreon supporters for your monthly contributions.

  You helped pay for this gorgeous book cover.

  * * *

  Tamara Pankonin

  Laurie Keyser

  Amanda Eide

  Stephanie Edwards

  Laura Price

  Katelyn Bobbitt

  Nicole Hartney

  Sabrina Hatfield

  Melinda Leininger

  Julie Traina

  Mindi Travis

  Fred Oelrich

  Helen Mays

  Conrad Jellison

  Author’s Note

  Dearest readers,

  I write this to you as I pause in the early stages of drafting this story to address a few things you should know before you begin reading. First and foremost, I’m loving this book so far. I’ve never written a story so rich in culture and history. While I will always have a soft spot for Dust and Shadow, which was a twisted road of secrets and discovery I hadn’t expected (and amazing characters that get to explore a world that fascinates me), Earth and Ember feels special.

  When I started writing this book, I knew I would have to do a lot of research because my Native American knowledge is limited, mostly to what I learned in elementary school. However, I’ve always been fascinated and humbled by Native American practices and culture—by their love for the earth and nature, which I can easily connect to. So, I dove in to learn more about the tribes that have farmed the Arizona landscape for thousands of years. I’m continually fascinated by the Ancient Puebloans—by their descendants, the Hopi people—and their practices, which I’ve blended into this story with a history of my own making. This is a fictional, post-apocalyptic world after all.

  While the society, practices, foods, and peaceful nature of these people are all true to history, I’ve put my own spin on them. Their culture has had to survive a sandstorm-ravaged world with melded beliefs and people, living in a dormant volcanic mountain that barely sees the light of day. So, while many of the names and most terms are authentic (I’ve provided a glossary of their meanings), some verbiage and cultural nuances have been altered for the sake of the story and reading ease.

  So, now that I’ve bored you with my disclaimers and anecdotes, by all means, read on my bookworm friends! I hope you enjoy this adventure as much as I’m enjoying writing it. Sincerely yours, Lindsey

  Glossary

  TERMS

  Askook – snake

  Askwali – “thank you”

  Etsi – clan mother/Mother

  Hoonaw/Hon – White Bear; very powerful and able to cure ails; also called Hon, the actual spirit’s name

  Hopituh/Hopi – meaning “The Peaceful People”

  Katsina(s) – spirit being(s)

  Kiva – sacred ritual and ceremony space

  Kokyanwhuti (pronounced: koh-kyang-woo-tee or koh-kyang-so-woo-tee) – Spider Woman/Earth goddess

  Kweo – White Wolf katsina spirit; a powerful hunter who brings food to the village.

  Mana – butterfly (term of endearment)

  Maasaw – the world's guardian spirit

  Pahi – waterfall

  Sosho – snake/serpent - white man/devil

  Siiwi – onion

  Tawa – Sun God/Creator

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  NAMES & MEANINGS

  Ahkima – “warrior/protector”

  Awan – “somebody”

  Elan – “friendly”

  Istas – “snow”

  Kaia – “little wise one”

  Oona – “remember”

  Paco – “soaring eagle”

  Sakima – “king”

  Tarak – “star”

  Todi – “wind”

  Yoki – “rain”

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  ARIZONA NATIVE AMERICAN TRIBES INCLUDED:

  Apache – strategists and warriors

  Navajo – rug and blanket weavers

  Mojave – farmers, fishermen, and hunters

  Hopi – deeply spiritual and peaceful

  Prologue

  Kaia

  Warm earth clings to my hands, and the thornscrub scratches against my legs as I steady myself, hiding in my father’s shadow and waiting for a pronghorn to show itself.

  “Be still,” he whispers. He closes his eyes and holds his breath. “They are close.”

  Straining, I listen for what the Great Spirit shows my father—a rustling breeze . . . antlers clacking against one another as two male pronghorns lay claim to the herd that follows them.

  I smile. Yes, the pronghorns are close—just out of sight—and my mouth practically waters with anticipation. I brush my sweat-dampened brow with the back of my arm, squinting into the relentless heat as I raise my bow. It’s heavy in my small arms but aimed and ready all the same.

  “If we are patient, they will come into view,” my father explains. “Even one buck could feed our people for a week.”

  I nod, gripping the bow. It’s slick in my hand, and my back dampens under the weight of my arrows. My fingers tighten and I peer out at the valley, focused and determined.

  “Your mother will give me an earful for bringing you,” my father whispers with a smile in his voice. “But it’s good to get into trouble every so often.” He winks at me.

  “I like being down here, with you,” I whisper back. “It is better than Oona and Mother’s lessons.”

  “It is your destiny, Kaia. You have the great Hon and Kweo in you—with the strength of the bear and the prowess of the wolf, you will be a strong leader to our people.”

  I glare at the lowering sun. Lessons and pilgrimages with my mother and grandmother have kept me away from my friends. “I prefer the hunt,” I say, feeling defiant. “Mother will have to find a different etsi for when she is gone.” r />
  My father chuckles, and there’s a softness in his eyes I’ve never seen before. “You will change your mind. And who knows, perhaps one day you can be both.” He lifts the carved Kweo from around his neck and places it over my head. Surprised, I peer down at the great wolf. It is his katsina, my father’s guardian and the essence of his spirit—powerful, instinctual, a hunter who always provides food for the village—and he’s given Kweo to me.

  When I look at him, wide-eyed and mystified, he appears more somber. “He will guide you, when I cannot.”

  A rustle in the brush ahead startles us, and a buck steps into view, grazing on the wolfberry branches that speckle the valley outstretched before us. A few other pronghorns meander after him.

  “Get ready,” my father says so low I barely hear him, and my body coils with excitement and expectation. Slowly, I pull my bowstring taut with an inhale, my arrow locked in place. With one eye shut, I wait for the shape in front of me to focus.

  “Do not let go until you are ready.” My father’s voice is sage and knowing, and I hang on his every word. “Never rush.”

  I take a deep breath, and holding my mouth just right, my fingers begin to loosen.

  “Yoki!” Elan shouts my father’s name, and the pronghorns startle, galloping away as the big man runs down from his post on the hillside. “Soshos are coming!”

  I swallow my fear. The white faces have come.

  Gunfire and shouting break out in the canyon behind us, and my father pulls me to my feet. “Take Kaia,” he says, shoving me toward Elan. “Go—hide her. I will help the others.”

  “Father—” I whimper as I realize he’s leaving me.

  “There are ten, at least,” Elan warns. “We must go, Yoki. You cannot—”

  “I will not leave my men.” My father shoves me toward his greatest friend. “Now go!” he shouts, and with his bow and arrow in hand, he runs toward the reverberating sound of battle cries and bullets screeching through the canyon. My father runs like the wolf, chasing after its prey with fierce determination, and I fear what will happen if I take my eyes from him.

  “Kaia, come,” Elan bites out, but I scream as I see the soshos riding up over the ridge. Two of my father’s men come out of the brush and fall in step behind him, throwing their spears and shooting their arrows.

  As Elan tugs me toward the canyon, I stumble and shriek, craning my neck to watch the horrors unfold behind me. My father shoots arrow after arrow, taking down one sosho and then another. But when more men on horseback gallop around the foothills, I know my father and his men are outnumbered.

  “Father—” I scream, but Elan covers my mouth and lifts me against his chest as he runs to where the thicket is dense and caves are etched in mountain stone.

  The earth shakes. My vision blurs. And then we’re in the shadows of a sandstone spire. The branches of the wolfberry scratch my face and pull at my hair as Elan shoves me deeper into the bushes, out of sight, crawling in after me.

  My heart pounds, and I can barely catch my breath as I watch the world through shimmering tears. The shouts of the soshos mixed with the battle cries of my father and the others are soon overpowered by the thundering of horse hooves and the ear-splitting ring of bullets flying through the air. Dust clouds obscure my view. Limbs are flailing, and horses are falling. Men shout in anger and pain, and then, I watch my father fall.

  “No—”

  Elan’s hand clamps harder over my mouth, his protective arms squeezing me tighter. “Shh,” he coos, his voice a deep, demanding hum in my ear, but I can barely hear him as my body is wracked with sobs.

  My heart hurts, my throat burns, and I can barely comprehend what I’m seeing as I watch the soshos tie my father’s ankles with a tether and drag his lifeless body away.

  * * *

  I spring up in my blankets, clutching my chest. My skin is damp with sweat and I wipe the moisture from my eyes, staring into nothingness. The memory is still so vibrant despite the nine years past, I can barely catch my breath.

  I’m in darkness, not the valley floor. It smells faintly dank from the damp stone walls of the mountain, and of sweet sap from the sagebrush Oona burns in the room below, and I sigh with a guilty sense of relief.

  I am home and safe. I force myself to soak up the realization and welcome the brisk cave air nipping my exposed skin as I fall back against my feather-stuffed pillow. Exhaling a deep breath, I try not to think too much about my dream. Or my father. Or the ache in my chest left in my parents’ absence.

  But it’s no use. Rolling my eyes, I toss my fur blankets back. Sleep will be impossible, so in my restlessness, I decide to be useful until it’s time to leave with the hunting party.

  After pulling on my tunic and tying my fur vest around me, I wrap my legs in deerskin to stave off the cold, determined to prepare the paint and ready the horses for today’s trip. I run my fingers through my hair, grimacing as I tug at the knots in the ends. My fingers move quickly as I braid my long hair into rows and out of my face, and I’m just finishing up when I hear the door open and close, and whispers emanate from the room below. Perhaps it is earlier than I thought, and Oona is reciting her morning prayers. But then I hear a different voice—a familiar, deeper one, and I freeze, straining to listen.

  “—and they are gone,” he says almost too faintly to hear.

  I creep toward the ladder, leading from my room to the living space below, and peer down. Elan stands beside my grandmother, dressed, but not in his hunting clothes.

  My grandmother nods at his muffled words, relief and gratitude softening her wrinkled face.

  Gone? My jaw clenches as I hurry down the ladder. “Who is gone?” I bite out.

  Oona and Elan look at one another as if they’ve been caught scheming.

  When neither answer, I glare at them. “Cole?” I breathe. “The hunters?” I can feel the blood rushing to my cheeks and through my fingers. I fist my hands at my side. “You let them leave, without me?” I grit the words out, resentment tasting like ash in my mouth. This was their plan all along. Placate me, allowing me to think I could finally go, only to send the others out in the cover of darkness without me.

  Oona takes a hesitant step closer. “It is not safe in the valley for you, Kaia.”

  Fire ignites in my veins. “It is not safe for anyone, not for years. But we must hunt,” I say coolly. “I am no different from them—”

  “You will be etsi,” Oona growls at me. “Whether you want to be or not, that is your destiny. We cannot risk losing you—”

  “I am not the etsi.” I take turns scowling at each of them. “I will never be the etsi.” But as I say the words, I feel the choice turning to dust, escaping into my looming future. If not me, who? If not soon, when? Brushing past them, I leave Oona and Elan in my furious wake, too angry to look back. And with each step toward the quiet calm of the village, a cool draft envelops me. You will change your mind. My father’s words echo in my head, but even as chills trickle over me, I refuse to listen.