Fragmented Read online

  Fragmented

  Madeline Dyer

  Contents

  Fragmented

  Praise for the Untamed Series

  Also by Madeline Dyer

  Title Page

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Preview

  “A fantastic dystopian tale. Highly recommended for fans of strong heroines and intriguing sci-fi worlds.”

  Pintip Dunn, New York Times bestselling author of the Forget Tomorrow series

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  “A YA Mad Max—thrilling and deep, with richly drawn characters and spot-on pacing. With the sequel every bit as good as the predecessor, Dyer’s Untamed series is a must-read for dystopian fans.”

  T.A. Maclagan, author of They Call Me Alexandra Gastone

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  “Fascinating and intriguing.”

  A Drop of Ink Reviews

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  “Dyer is as much a poet as a dystopian scribe. Her images, at times surreal, at times brutal, propel you through the worlds of Untamed and Fragmented at high speed.”

  Marissa Kennerson, author of The Family

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  “Strong writing and well-rounded characters. If you loved Untamed, you’ll want to pick up Fragmented right away to discover more about the world and the people Dyer has created.”

  Heidi Sinnett, author and librarian

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  “A kick-butt story with amazing characters and outstanding world building.”

  Readcommendations

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  “Highly recommended.”

  Dr. Jessie Voigts, WanderingEducators.com

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  “Dyer writes with an urgency and a rhythm that compels you to turn the page.”

  Sue Wyshynski, author of The Butterfly Code series

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  “Untamed is a fantastic dystopian survival story, filled with twists.”

  The Literature Hub

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  “As a person who rarely reads fantasy/sci-fi but grew up with it always on the nightstand, Dyer’s book reawakened in me a buried love for the genre.”

  Jen Knox, author of After the Gazebo

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  “Readers who enjoy dystopian novels would enjoy this book.”

  The Story Sanctuary

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of either the author or the publisher.

  * * *

  Fragmented

  Copyright © 2017 Madeline Dyer

  All rights reserved.

  * * *

  Madeline Dyer asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

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  Second edition, January 2017

  Published by Ineja Press

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  First published in 2016 by Prizm Books, a division of Torquere Press Publishers

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  Edited by Deelylah Mullin

  Cover & Interior Design by We Got You Covered Book Design

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  Print ISBN: 978-0-9957191-2-5

  eBook ISBN: 978-0-9957191-3-2

  * * *

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, distributed, stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval systems, in any forms or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, without the express written permission of the author, except for the purpose of a review which may quote brief passages.

  * * *

  The author can be contacted via email at [email protected] or through her website www.MadelineDyer.co.uk

  For Nana

  Snakes and fires and angry Goddesses fill my dreams, and I wake to the feeling of feathers running along my shoulder blades. A spirit.

  Get out. Leave us. Go.

  The voice hovers around me, and I blink several times, half-imagine the words by my face, gaining substance, wrapping themselves in thick, outer shells. Wispy tendrils unfurl from each pod and reach out to me, strive to cling to my skin, but then something extracts the soft, singing bodies from their cages, pulls the words farther and farther away, until they’ve gone. Without their melodic centers, the armor disintegrates, and a moment later the lingering ethereal footprint of each husk disperses into dust, destroying all evidence that anyone—anything—ever spoke…until I’m certain no one did, and it was all my imagination.

  I roll over—flaking mud from my clothes—careful not to disturb Corin’s sleeping body next to me. The air tastes strange, like it’s waiting for something, like it’s humming with a slow-burning zeal.

  I sit up and look down at Corin. He’s a big man, broad-shouldered, tall, and he takes up most of the mattress we are sharing. His eyes are shut, his eyelids smooth, his expression peaceful as his chest rises and falls with the temporal security. For several moments, all I can do is stare at him, drink in his appearance. He looks so relaxed, so peaceful; it’s almost possible to forget what has happened—all the blood, the losses, the deaths….

  Yesterday comes back to me in flashes, and I inhale sharply, feel the air around me move. A glimpse of blood. A purple sky. A sharp knife. A gun, glinting in the light. A man with—

  Something cold washes over me, pulls me from the broken echoes in my mind, and I sit up straighter, looking around. I shiver. The temple is cool, crisp, yet the air ripples. It starts off slowly—little, small movements—but then the momentum grows, and the atmosphere gets heavier, thicker, choppier.

  The spirits move faster. I can’t see them—they’re invisible, because they’re weak now, after the battle—but I can sense them, feel them. A biting frostiness that scatters icy particles over my shoulders. A flurry of movement against my bare arm.

  My mother’s Seer pendant around my neck feels heavier, bulkier than usual, but it’s a reassuring presence. As if it can protect us from everything.

  For a few seconds, all I can see in front of me are rapid snatches of my mother; how she looked yesterday when the slight wind lifted stray tendrils of her dark hair away from her face. How she still had those small scars on the side of her neck. How reflective her eyes were.

  How Corin shot her in the leg.

  I swallow hard and look down at my own legs, stretched out in front of me.
They’re covered in dirt, soft clay—like the rest of me. I look at Corin. We’re both daubed in sludge, blood, mud. The back of my neck prickles. We…we—we slept like this… We didn’t wash ourselves. I get a bad taste in my mouth, still can’t remember arriving at the spirit temple. But we slept here. I try to recall my dream, but the angry Goddesses are only impressions now—a chalky silhouette, the shape of a head, and a lone arm—impressions that slither away like the snakes I think were there. The dying impression of a flame lingers a little longer in my mind, before fading into unease.

  Spirits. I nod. Has to be. They took us there, knocked us out…made sure we got some sleep, some energy?

  I look back at the pulsing air.

  “Sev?”

  I jump, turn at Corin’s voice. He’s awake, looking up at me. His eyes are pools of warmth that try to draw me in and swallow me.

  Last night, he said he loved me.

  “You okay?” He sits up, and his arms draw me close, away from the moving spirits, and I’m wrapped in the tangy smell of old smoke and mud.

  I lean into him, liking the feeling of being close. Close to him, when the spirits are moving. I swallow hard, my fingers only shake a little. I manage to nod, but the action feels fake. Am I okay? I bite my lip. Nothing’s okay anymore.

  So, go! Leave! Get out, now.

  Shivers run through me as I hear the spirit’s words. It jogs something in me, makes me remember an earlier voice, movement, and words disappearing, their echoes disintegrating in front of me. My eyes widen… It wasn’t my imagination? I sit up straighter. Leave? I hold onto Corin tighter, counting the beats of my own heart, and—

  A spirit shrieks, cutting the air in two.

  We flinch. Corin reaches for his gun from where it lies on the floor, a foot or so away. White light glints off it for a second, and I want to tell him it’s futile—you can’t shoot a spirit with a gun. But the moment he has the weapon in his hand, I feel better.

  We stand up slowly.

  More spirits scream. Scream because we’re listening, echoing the sounds of last night’s battle. Scream because it’s the only way they know how to grieve.

  Get out, leave us!

  It’s all around us: memories and pain and shrieks and loss. I hear a soft whooshing sound, see a flash of gold as a chivra spirit—visible now—flies past us. I turn my head slowly, trying to see where the chivra went, but it’s gone.

  Something cracks and cackles behind us. I flinch. Corin reaches for my hand, and the gesture sends sparks through me. The air is colder—much colder—but it is alive, teeming, bursting. The wind’s picking up, diving through the rectangular opening in the stonework, howling with the spirits. Something splashes over my right arm, and I taste rust, smell burning flesh. Corin winces as something invisible hits him, then he tries to shield my body with his.

  I peer around his shoulder; ahead, the ripples in the air oscillate faster. Gusts of energy reach us in short, sharp bursts, and I step back, pull Corin with me. My shoes squeak against the stone floor, and a spirit imitates the sound. I jump as my back meets the cold stone wall of the temple, think for a second that it’s another spirit.

  “What are they doing?” Corin’s voice is a low whisper, tense, and he looks up, flinching, as a flash of silver darts above us.

  Eviction. They want us gone. The message is clear. They helped us in the battle, protected us overnight, but now our time’s up.

  “We need to go.”

  “Have you seen it?” Corin’s dark eyes are intense with emotion. “Sev?”

  I shake my head, lean against the wall. The Dream Land hasn’t told me we need to go. I just know it. It’s obvious. Obvious in the way the spirits are telling us, how they’re crying for their own losses, tightening the air against us.

  Except…except I don’t want to go. I don’t want to leave the safety of the temple. Out there, we’ll be back in the real world. In here, we’re safe…but not for much longer, I know that. Spirits aren’t usually hospitable; we were lucky they allowed us to stay, protected us. But now they’re turning, revoking their invite.

  A gust of hot air urges me sideways, toward the exit.

  “We need to see if they’re still out there…” Corin frowns, starts to choke. “We need to see… We need to see if she’s alive.” But even as he says the words, I detect the weight in his voice. We both know the answer.

  I nod, steel myself. I don’t want to think about it, but I know ignorance is not bliss. The Enhanced Ones came for us, and—at the moment—Corin and I are the only survivors. My brother’s dead; I saw him get shot. We need to send his body off, say the Spirit Releasing Words, make sure he gets to the New World safely—if it’s not already too late.

  And the same for Esther….

  We have to find them both.

  The spirit temple’s opening is a small uneven gap in the stone wall, no door to speak of. Yet it had felt enclosed earlier, when we slept, hadn’t it? But I can’t remember. The brimming air pushes us toward the exit, nearer and nearer. Corin goes first, but he holds onto my hand tightly. So tight, I can almost feel his heart beating. With every step, the journey toward the door gets easier, and we walk faster; the spirits are eager for our departure.

  Leave us! Go!

  My eyes latch onto the gun as Corin tucks it under the back of his waistband with his free hand. Seeing it makes me wish I had a weapon. But I don’t. Corin left his knife in Raleigh’s chest when he stabbed him.

  We reach the gap in the stone, see the early morning light. Corin steps out, then pulls me with him into the outside world.

  Sheets of sudden rain smack against me, sharp and stinging. The wind yowls, grabs me with icy fingers. Corin’s grip on my hand gets tighter. He pulls me forward, then stumbles before regaining his balance. Behind us, the spirits scream. The hairs on the back of my neck rise at the sounds of their power, their grief.

  We stop once we’re a good twenty feet from the spirit temple, and I look around. The air is hazy now, the rain lessening. So I concentrate on the sky. If I look at its moodiness, as its hues flit from orange to blue, to purple to yellow, and feel its weeping tears on my face, I don’t have to look at the dead. I can almost pretend we’re not standing above a battlefield.

  “They’ve all gone,” Corin says after a moment, “the live ones—they’ve gone. It’s just their bodies, left behind.”

  I nod. I know he’s talking about the Enhanced. Now I have to look. I have to see the corpses strewn across the landscape below us as though an unseen power simultaneously picked them all up and threw them down with such force their lives broke. I turn and look at the nearest hill—soft land rising out of the new basket of death—and I scan it for my mother’s body. I can’t see her. Then I survey the horizons. There are no signs of any towns; it’s just wilderness. I don’t know where she’s gone. Where any of them have gone.

  I look back at the bodies below us, cradled in the long-sunken land—there are so many of them. Even from here, rotting stenches fill my nostrils, the smells penetrating and pungent, as if they’ve been here for weeks, not hours. A living graveyard. One that stretches on and on and on. Logic tells me our enemy suffered more than us, because the spirits that joined in were generally on our side; there are hundreds and hundreds of bodies, and they have to be Enhanced. Raleigh had an army prepared. Our number was only four, when it came down to it. And we’ve got one confirmed death—my brother’s. Half of us—or three-quarters, if Esther’s still alive—survived, thanks to the spirits.

  I squeeze Corin’s hand, notice my arms are nearly clean from the rain, then my eyes focus on a shape three hundred feet away. My stomach twists. That could be Three’s body. I gulp. My brother. Dead. It doesn’t feel right. It can never feel right.

  I look up at Corin. His expression is unreadable.

  “Do you think it’s safe down there?” he asks, his voice husky. “To look through the bodies?”

  I stare at the fallen soldiers, somehow glistening under the mor
ning light and the now-weak drizzle. This shouldn’t have been the answer. This shouldn’t be what the world’s come to when the majority of people want to use chemical augmenters to alter and control their own feelings, appearances, and lives—and force the use of augmenters onto everyone else. We shouldn’t be fighting to keep our own lives pure.

  Pure. I am not pure.

  I gulp at the memory. It’s in the past. I have to focus on that. It wasn’t my fault. But the echo—the feeling—of me unscrewing the lid of the vial and tipping the sweet, delicious augmenter into my mouth is beautifully strong….

  But it’s not right. I have to stay Untamed. I know that now.

  “Sev? Should we go down there?”

  “I don’t know.” At last, I look up at Corin. I’m tall for an Untamed girl, but he is taller, built like a true warrior: tall, strong, broad. Powerful. “The Enhanced have gone. I don’t want to stay here long.” I pause, trying to steady my breathing. A huge part of me wants to turn back, head for the temple again, beg the spirits to let us stay longer, beg them for safety…just for an extra day, an extra night. But I already know the answer. “We should look quickly, then leave.”