Discovered (The Shalean Moon) by J. Lilley Page B

the moon made it hard to determine much at all, but he didn’t sense anything in their direction. He looked up. Large hooks were fixed randomly on the wall, probably for tying animals up or keeping fodder in. A few had empty nets attached to them. Beams crisscrossed the room, dusty and cobwebby.
    Suddenly, in a dark corner he spotted a few wooden planks laid at an angle from one wall to its neighbor that made a sort of triangular ledge. Long ago someone had put in a space for storing things high up off the floor. Unfortunately, the height and angle made it impossible to see what was on them. He walked carefully across the floor skirting a rusty farm implement, and what looked like a wooden pallet.
    Rach! His senses told him she was near.
    By now his eyes were perfectly attuned to the dark. He was right, he thought with quiet jubilation, there was something precariously on the edge of those planks; or, he hoped—someone.
    ‘You’re too late, I’ve gone. You’ll never catch me. Remember, I’ll always win Brios Parde. I’m better than you, and one day the Sept will be mine as it should be.’
    ‘In your dreams, Struan Scott; I’ll hunt you down, and I’ll find you wherever you are. Justice will prevail; for now though good riddance. I’m not too late.’
    How he hoped that was true. Standing under the slats, he saw movement.
    “Rach?” He spoke out loud; or he thought he did until he heard her moan and start—in fear? The he realized he was still shifted, so his speech came out as rumbles and roars. No wonder she moaned.
    He shifted quickly, wincing as his skeleton took on its human shape. For sure he’d have plenty of aches and bruises tomorrow, but none of that mattered to him; Rach was more important.
    “Rach, it’s Brios. Don’t move—I’m here, give me a chance to get you.”
    Being a Shalean came in handy as he jumped for the ledge; his inbuilt athleticism helping him as he caught hold of a plank and swung upwards. Carefully he picked his way over the rotten and crumbling boards towards the figure lying on its side in one corner of the shelf, one leg now dangling dangerously over the edge. The last thing he needed was to startle Rach. He knelt by her, and slowly leaned forward.
    Her face was white, her eyes were closed, and a purple bruise marked her cheek. He clenched his fists and swore by all he held sacred that Struan, and whoever had helped him, would be brought to justice. Shalean justice; no matter how long it took. He was so bloody angry the air shook.
    Get a grip Bri, he told himself . Calm down, you need to look after Rach.
    Brios looked down at her—unmoving and hurt—and something dark and angry filled him. He needed to be careful how much he allowed it to take hold.
    He was trembling as he held out his hand and touched her cheek.
    Her soft breath fanned across his fingers.

C HAPTER N INE
    Thank you Gods!
    He put Rach in the recovery position—on her side, one arm and leg over her body, and making sure her airway was open—giving thanks for the fact that he’d volunteered to take first aid training as part of his Duke of Edinburgh Award. He blessed the day the Queen’s husband had thought up all those challenges for teenagers to achieve. His Shalean gifts also served him well. He could tell Rach was unconscious; not due to injury, but because her Shalean blood had closed her pain reflexes down and allowed her mind to rest in a sort of trance.
    Unfortunately, he needed to bring her out of it, but first he needed to contact the others. He hoped someone picked up on his projecting.
    ‘I’ve found her.’
    He got several responses; his mum, his dad, Donny, Leira. They wanted to know where he’d found her; how he’d found her; and whether she was all right.
    ‘In the old barn on the edge of dad’s land; I found her by sense; and I’m not sure how she is yet, hold on …’
    Rach’s eyelids were fluttering.
    “Brios, is it really you? My head hurts. Struan ... He’s …”
    Brios