Title:
THE RECLAMATION
Author: Thorn Osgood
Publisher: Mind Wings Audio
Pages: 595
Genre: Scifi/Fantasy
Author: Thorn Osgood
Publisher: Mind Wings Audio
Pages: 595
Genre: Scifi/Fantasy
Corilan, 25, is an IT
project manager by day, and spends her free time involved in ecological organizations
endeavors. When her long-absent negligent father, Nolan, wants to see her she’s
annoyed. Finally, she decides to see him and despite the friction over his
absence, from that meeting her life evolves. Nolan tells her of his birthright,
an environmental organization, the School of Ancestral Guidance (SAG) and its
members having ancestral guides. This clarifies Corilan’s gift, a voice inside,
something she has never revealed. Knowledge of SAG feeds her obsession against
environmental destruction.
Then an invisible entity,
Earthos, manifests itself to her and proposes assistance in uniting people that
want earth preservation. Years, she has been seeking a way to unite conservationist
factions and still has no solution. Inspired by her inheritance, she accepts
Earthos’ proposal and infuses with him. Then, she joins the SAG organization. From
her infusion, she soon discovers abilities, among them lightning bolt
generation, mind reading and control.
Armed with powerful
abilities and her ancestral guide, Corilan must take an unexpected path. Then
she discovers who her real enemies are and must find a way to defeat them.
For More Information
- The Reclamation is available at Amazon.
- Pick up your copy at Barnes & Noble.
- The book is also available at Kobo.
- Read a preview of his book at his website.
- Discuss this book at PUYB Virtual Book Club at Goodreads.
First Chapter:
Chapter 1
Corilan closed the back
door to her new place and carefully removed her siec, making sure the acidic
residue of atmospheric particles did not make contact with anything. After
taking off her gloves, she removed her ENAZ mask and placed it on one of the
moving crates nearby. She examined her siec; a cloak made of biodegradable mesh
that served as a sieve to catch and block atmospheric particles. The particles
grew heavier after dark and attached to the fabric, creating large clumps of
acidic residue that could easily rub off on her skin or quickly eat through
more vulnerable materials. Two more wears, she figured. After she shoved her
gloves in one of the siec’s pockets, she hung the cloak on the coatrack by the
back door. The visibility lens and nasal filters in the mask could be cleaned
later.
For nearly five years,
this was the process she had gone through daily to go outside, and she was
pissed. Life did not have to be this way—it was a widely known fact that the
deterioration of the environment was caused by the actions of humans. Yet
industry and national leadership chose to do nothing; nothing that was truly
effective. She dreamed of finding a way to resolve the environmental problems,
in spite of the indifference of corporate CEOs and government leaders. Her body
became rigid, her teeth clenched; her hands tensed and became fists at the
thought. Those avaricious, self-serving bastards! To lead opposition against
the environmental status quo and reverse the damage, that’s what she wanted.
Every time she put on her outer gear or removed it, these were the thoughts
that filled her mind, leaving her helpless and frustrated. Ticked off that
leadership was so obliging to industry . . .
Catching her runaway
thoughts, she refocused her thinking and realized she was still standing by the
back door.
Then she remembered what
she had placed in her shoulder bag the day before the move. Her eyes scanned
the tops of the moving crates and boxes stacked on the floor and furniture. She
located her bag, browsed the contents, and found what she was seeking. Corilan
stared at the letter in her hand. She had found the piece of cursive-written
correspondence on the floor when she’d come home the day before the movers
arrived, and had stuffed it in her shoulder bag without opening it and
continued packing. Who took time to write hard copy anything anymore? Moving to
the kitchen counter, closer to the light, she opened the letter.
March 27, 2040
My Dear Daughter,
I received your thank-you card. Good to hear from you. I hope
you’ll be happy in your new place.
You are probably surprised to hear from me so soon, but as I
said in my previous letter, I would like to see you. I know I have not been a
part of your life since your mother died, but I have not forgotten you.
I would like to see you on the second Sunday of next month. I
will be in Pond Park
at 6:00 p.m. If you decide not to
come, I will understand. No matter what happens, you will always be loved.
Love,
Your father
Corilan laid the letter
on the counter and pursed her lips—Nolan Troxler, her father. So soon? She
hadn’t expected he would respond at all. Why would he? This was his second
letter to her in her life. No surprise that he felt unworthy. Really, there was
no other way he should feel. She hadn’t seen him in a little over twenty years.
Hell, she couldn’t even remember his voice. The way she looked at his message,
it was as if he was telling her, “I’m
here now, let’s be family? Oh, and by the way, you’ve got two weeks to decide.”
What made him think he could just arrive in town and tell her that? She felt
anger rise inside, and a flush of warmth swept over her. Okay, her father had
been widowed early in his marriage, but did that mean he’d had to abandon her?
She pulled out her wallet
and looked at the pictures of her parents that her grandmother had given her.
They looked so happy in the photo. Her own hazel eyes and thick, wavy, amber
brown hair were just like her mother’s. Why did her father stay away? It could
not possibly be because of her mother’s biracial heritage, could it? He always
knew her mother’s background, and it had not mattered before. What was it with
him? The anger boiled up and flowed through the tears rushing down her cheeks.
Why was she crying, anyway? She probably was not going to get to see him even
if she agreed to the meet-up. Who knows, he might not have the backbone to face
her. Seeing her in person would not be the same as writing to her. Just more
disappointment for her, she thought.
This had to be some kind
of ruse. Why would he just show up, after two decades of silence? What did he
really want? After returning the pictures to her wallet, she put it in her bag
along with the letter. Then she flipped the light switch off and strolled over
to the window, pulled the drapes aside, and gazed outside.
Dressed with the window’s
dirty splotches, the polluted air looked like misshapen corporeal images. One
thing was certain: No matter where she moved, she could never get away from the
air pollution choking out Earth’s natural environment. For a moment, she stared
at a hazy gray spot glowing in the darkness; probably the moon. She rubbed her
eyes and shifted her thoughts. She liked this new, small, quiet community in Bowie,
Maryland. It suited her well—not rowdy with
people coming and going constantly. Most likely the neighbors were aware of the
vacant detached townhouse in their cul-de-sac. They would awaken to a new
resident on their block.
A problem with broken
windows and the words “queen bitch” graffitied on her vehicle, along with feces
smeared on her apartment door, more than once, had prompted her to contact law
enforcement. She suspected Arley Hackett, a terminated employee from her job,
but could not prove he was the vandal. The police’s recommendation was that she
should move. “For your safety,” they had said. Her instructions to the movers
had been an unmarked truck and a night move. She felt like a thief, and her paranoia
was growing. What if the vandal found her new residence?
“Stay alert and be prudent, and know that you’re doing the right thing,”
the voice inside her head said.
“I didn’t move here to continue glancing over my shoulder and wondering
if I would have a skunk carcass or worse at my front door,” she shot back,
annoyed with herself for being jumpy. Why was she so afraid, anyway? Communication
with or from the voice was part of her life. As far back as she could remember,
Innerme, her name for the voice she thought of as being male, had spoken to
her, guiding her whenever she sought help; sometimes when she didn’t ask.
“You have done all you can do, except perhaps get a security system
installed. Think about it. Would it make you feel safer? Relax you from being
so uptight? You put yourself in a pins-and-needles state on your job daily, but
you enjoy it. You do not need negative stress, and the vandalism problems are
exactly that.”
“Maybe the security system would help. I’ll find out more and think
about it,” she replied, calmed from her prior outburst.
Stepping away from the
window, she glanced at the television. Probably not a good idea to turn it on,
but at least it would soften the amplified silence. After plugging in the TV,
she made a space on the couch and slumped down, resting her head on the pink
and green cotton quilt made by her grandmother. Exhausted yet restless, she
would never get to sleep now. Nerves, and not knowing what might happen if she
slept, made her resist her weariness. If only her Scottish terrier, Sir Henry,
were with her instead of in the kennel where she’d placed him until she was
settled. She’d feel less uneasy.
Her father’s request to
meet flooded her thoughts again. Had he been watching her? How had he known
about her moving plans? Being suspicious made sense, but she had to admit that
curiosity was overwhelming her. Why now, after all this time?
In the last six months,
her father had paid off all her student loans. That in itself was pretty fantastic,
but she wondered why he hadn’t contributed to her tuition while she was
actually in college.
She considered the
benefits of getting to know her father. Having a blood relative to visit and do
things with on occasion might be nice. Well, only if they had similar interests.
What if he wanted to control her life, tell her what she should do, criticize
her choices, insert himself in every aspect of her life? He might not see her
as an adult. In his mind’s eye, he might still think of her as a five-year-old
and treat her like one. Just the thought caused her to sit up and stretch.
On the other hand, what
if she were sick or dying? Would he be there for her or would he disappear for
another decade, or let her die alone? She knew she would be there for him if
she made him a part of her life.
After all, she reminded
herself, there wasn’t a line of people waiting to befriend her. She had always
felt like she did not belong, did not fit in, and she was okay with that. Going
her own way, doing her thing was the code she lived by. Maybe getting to know
her father would lead to something fresh and more interesting in her life. That
definitely would interest her.
During her college years,
she had spent her time studying, working with the Chesapeake Bay
restoration program, attending environmental conventions, and occasionally
going roller-skating. Not the types of activities one would find most students
doing. She’d had two college boyfriends, but she had not been willing to allow
time for them outside of her preferred activities, and they soon went their own
ways.
Since finishing college
at the University of Maryland
and entering the workforce, she had not taken time for social activities: no
skating, no get-togethers, no physical participation in environmental projects.
Getting ahead in her career had been her primary concern, and now she wondered
if that had been entirely the best decision. Although, thinking back on her
past social experiences at parties, dating, and spending time with her peer
group, social encounters had always been slim. Perhaps her choice was just her
way of doing what she always had: focusing on what was most important that she
could do, undisturbed by the social tides around her.
Interacting with more
than a few people made her feel tense. One instance specifically stood out in
her mind. College students who were not members of fraternity or sorority
communities often spent social time together, and she was a part of that group.
On those few occasions when she did hang out, she had observed and listened to
everyone’s snipes, constant negative remarks, and other idle chatter, which
never interested her. While at a pizza restaurant one evening, she had asked,
“Has anyone read the latest news on U.S.
environmental issues?” Chatter at the table shut down that instant. Everyone
stared at her. Finally, one of the guys said, “No. We’re all in denial.”
Laughter flooded the group and everyone acted as if she had not spoken. That
had been her last group activity.
At her job, she could be
all business and was considered an A-plus employee. Since the days of
socializing at work were a relic of the past, current workforces were smaller
with maximum output expected.
Aside from the chance to
expand her social life, she might also be able to expand her knowledge of her
family background, which was currently limited to what her grandparents had
told her about her mother. If she got to know her father, she might be able to
explain things about herself. Why she had a voice that talked to her. Why she
was so obsessed with taking action against leadership and industry for not
establishing the effective regulations needed to preserve the environment. Were
these not reasons enough to meet with her father? Admittedly, she was very
curious about her family tree.
Her thoughts faded as she
drifted off to sleep.