Maia and the Xifarian Conspiracy (The Lightbound Saga Book 1) Read Free

village. They ambled through the covered red bridge, over the dry riverbed of Anjouni, and around the dusty curves of the Eilen Ward.
    Herc pulled the horses to a stop when they reached the highest point over the Ward, a customary pause on their monthly journeys to Shiloh. Maia took in a deep breath, relishing the nippy morning air that smelled of dewdrops, her eager eyes sweeping over the vista she cherished. The Anjouni River marked the edge of the Ward; sandy fields lay beyond its eastern shore, sprawling forward all the way to Shiloh. But it was the Dorgashian Folds that easily overshadowed the scene with its looming presence. No matter how many times Maia saw it, the unobstructed panorama of the plains sweeping up the lofty Dorgashian Folds to the north always took her breath away.
    The Folds stretched across the Second Continent like the curved blade of a sword, a cold and menacing divide between the northern and the southern territories. On the tiny planet of Tansi, their colossal presence was practically unrivalled, their treacherous terrain nearly impassable since the Solianese era of a century ago.
    That was a time when Tansi was still united as one nation under the Solianese, long before the Jjord seceded from the Union and sealed the borders of their under-ocean colonies. Tansi was then at its glorious pinnacle. Sprawling megacities of iron and steel pierced the skies; soaring motorways crisscrossed and bridled the Folds into submission. That splendor and opulence did not survive the terrifying times of the Scarcity—the period of devastation that followed the death of the immense civilization. As the remnants of the past faded, the deserted cities fell in ruins. The towering roads that snaked across the mountains slowly crumbled, and now, a hundred years later, the peaks stood wild and free again.
    Maia looked at the dust-covered path before them and sighed. It was barely a road anymore, trampled out of its original form long ago; its distressed shabbiness was pitiful. Still, there was a quiet triumph in its ruins. This was the one corridor across the Folds that had survived the Scarcity and the century that followed, now the solitary link between the lands of the far north and the provinces lying south of the ranges. Maia squinted hard to trace its threadlike form as it emerged at the foot of the Dorgashian Folds, crept south in a long and flat roll until it reached Shiloh, circled the town, and then turned sharply westward toward Appian.
    Herc broke the stillness as he clucked his tongue at the horses.
    The horses clomped forward, slowly, across the sandy fields that stretched lazily eastward, glistening in the pinkish glow of the early sun. In the distance, the first warm rays of sunlight tried to nudge and wake a small and indistinct Shiloh. Sleepy wisps of smoke rose from a few chimneys and disappeared in the thin veil of mist that hugged the town like a feather wrap.
    These monthly journeys always followed the same pattern. It started with a visit to the morning market for items that Emmy had noted in her all-important must-be-picked-up list. Next was a visit to Doctor Hsu’s Dispensary to fill Dada’s prescription, lunch at the Tavern by the Troughs, and finally a trip to the fancy market in the evening.
    “Miss Maia, we hafta find ‘em potatoes for Emmy,” Herc announced as they neared the morning market that sprawled over a platform propped up by short stilts. “She needs ‘em for Solstice dinner.”
    “Want me to look?” Maia offered.
    “Nah.” Herc shook his head vigorously. “They’re special kind—spotted ‘cross the top and jus’ the right size. Hafta get ‘em jus’ right . . . yeh know Emmy.”
    “Hmm,” Maia replied with a loud grunt. Knowing Emmy and knowing Herc, this did not bode well for their plans; the morning was as good as gone.
    Just as she had expected, Herc plunged into his quest for the perfect specimen with the zeal of a two-year-old searching for his favorite