Forsaken Island Read online

  ACCLAIM FOR

  HIDDEN CURRENT

  “Hinck’s intertwining of Christian theology and fantasy renders a thought-provoking tale, and readers will be challenged to question their convictions. Recommended.”

  —School Library Journal

  “Both fantastical and a commentary on blind faith, Sharon Hinck’s exquisite Hidden Current kick-starts a magical new series centered around the power of dance and staying true to yourself.”

  —Foreword Reviews

  “Sharon Hinck’s fantasy dances to the rhythm of our Creator’s heart… the story moves well to the rhythm of an organic and necessary theme: the ultimate purpose of creative gifts, in a world that’s guided not by human movers in a disordered Order, but by a divine and prime Mover.”

  —Lorehaven Magazine

  “Sharon Hinck has outdone herself with this tale of reclaimed mystery and redemption. As a dancer myself, I loved the rhythm and lyricism of Hinck’s masterful prose and the perilous quest of her protagonist to learn Truth. Hidden Current dances on the page.”

  —Tosca Lee, New York Times bestselling author

  “Rhythm and dance can move a world, and Hidden Current shows how it might be done. A lovely story, told through the eyes of a character who must find her true strength in faithful, trusting service. Hidden Current combines a creative, sympathetic interweaving of the dancer’s art with intriguing worldbuilding and a strong faith element. Well done, Sharon Hinck.”

  —Kathy Tyers, author of the Firebird series

  “Hidden Current made me want to leap up and dance with joy. The characters, setting, and creatures were exquisite, and the Maker touched my heart. One of the most beautiful stories I’ve ever read.”

  —Morgan Busse, award-winning author of The Ravenwood Saga

  “Sharon Hinck’s Hidden Current is absolutely beautiful! I was instantly drawn in by her intriguing island world held in place by dancers. This story is one of discovery, truth, and a lovely, fresh allegory that will touch readers’ hearts. If you enjoy Christian young adult fantasy novels with danger, adventure, and a hint of romance, you’re going to love it!”

  —Jill Williamson, Christy Award-winning author of Blood of Kings

  “Hidden Current enthralled me! Sharon Hinck brings characters to life like no one else! The characters’ paths collide and propel them on an adventurous, imaginative quest. Hidden Current is bursting with intrigue, danger, betrayal, redemption and hope—everything readers want in an epic tale! Hidden Current is unputdownable!”

  —Elizabeth Goddard, bestselling author of the Uncommon Justice series

  FORSAKEN

  ISLAND

  BOOKS BY SHARON HINCK

  The Secret Life of Becky Miller

  Renovating Becky Miller

  Symphony of Secrets

  Stepping Into Sunlight

  The Sword of Lyric Series

  The Restorer

  The Restorer’s Son

  The Restorer’s Journey

  The Deliverer

  The Dancing Realms Series

  Hidden Current

  Forsaken Island

  FORSAKEN

  ISLAND

  THE DANCING REALMS

  BOOK 2

  SHARON HINCK

  Forsaken Island

  Copyright © 2020 by Sharon Hinck

  Published by Enclave Publishing, an imprint of Third Day Books, LLC

  Phoenix, Arizona, USA.

  www.enclavepublishing.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, digitally stored, or transmitted in any form without written permission from Third Day Books, LLC.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual people, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental.

  ISBN: 978-1-62184-135-7 (printed hardback)

  ISBN: 978-1-62184-137-1 (printed softcover)

  ISBN: 978-1-62184-136-4 (ebook)

  Cover design by Kirk DouPonce, www.DogEaredDesign.com

  Typesetting by Jamie Foley

  for Ted, with all my love and gratitude

  “For the LORD will not reject his people;

  he will never forsake his inheritance.”

  —Psalm 94:14 (NIV)

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Cover

  Acclaim for Hidden Current

  Half-Title

  Books by Sharon Hinck

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  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

  Glossary

  Acknowledgments

  Author Biography

  The Sword of Lyric Series

  Across a sweep of waves, the new world called to me. Sea breezes tickled my skin, stirring excitement and making my muscles twitch. What surprises might the unexpected island hold? The tangleroot shore of Meriel’s rim rocked beneath my bare feet, daring me to leave its safety.

  Beside me, Brantley rolled a cloak and stuffed it into his pack. “We should have left at first light.” Wind brushed fair curls across his eyes, and he tossed his head like an impatient pony shaking his mane. A mottled brown tunic stretched across his broad shoulders, and a longknife rested at his hip.

  I folded a sheet of parchment and tucked it into the tiny pouch hanging around my neck. “Saltar Kemp kept adding to the list of supplies she wants us to search for. She’s hoping we can find seeds to bring back so the villages can develop new orchards.”

  The possibility of such bounty still felt surreal, the notion of an uncharted land like a child’s fanciful dream. To think, for centuries we had believed our island floated alone on an endless ocean, and now a mere speck amid the vast expanse of blue had proven our wisest elders wrong.

  We were not alone.

  And the thought made me shiver.

  Brantley leapt from shore onto his stenella, Navar. The graceful sea creature’s sleek back provided enough room for us both, so why was I afraid to climb on? My companion’s ocean-blue gaze held a challenge as he offered his hand. “Are you ready, Carya?”

  Was I ready? After all the adventures I’d endured, you’d think I could face this trip bravely, but fear tiptoed into my heart and set up camp. Fear of the hungry ocean. Fear of threats we might face. Fear that we wouldn’t find anything of use and our world would continue to suffer. I flexed my bandaged ankle and winced. Yet another reason many of the saltars had warned me not to make this journey.

  Hiding my qualms, I forced a confident smile and accepted Brantley’s grasp. Although we disagreed on many things, this man could teach me a lot about being fearless. He settled me in my familiar spot behind Navar’s long neck, her gray-blue hide smooth and cool beneath my grip. She turned her head, making her floppy ears sway. Long-lashed, limpid eyes blinked over her perpetual grin. Then she wriggled against the makeshift harness Brantley had designed. If we fou
nd seeds, herbs, or wild grain, he’d assemble a raft, attach it to the straps, and tow back all we could carry.

  Brantley lifted his fist and traced a tight circle. Then he pointed toward the distant land. Navar’s spine rolled with enthusiasm, and she surged forward over the waves.

  I squinted ahead. When the Order had shackled our world in place, it stopped traveling through the rich nourishment of various currents. Crops had been poor for years and fishing slim. A key point when we’d argued with Saltar Kemp.

  Just two days before, we’d been up at the Order, sitting in her office and debating plans. I had chewed my lip but then squared my shoulders. “With respect, Saltar Kemp, you’re isolated up here and well provisioned from the taxes levied under Tiarel. I’ve visited many villages. Several species of fruit trees have died off. Lenka trees all over the island are shriveling with disease. Tubers are stubby and gnarled. The people outside of Middlemost are suffering. They need our help.”

  Brantley crossed his arms. “I know the new current will improve fishing eventually, but rimmers are still going hungry. If the new land has resources to share, it will be worth any danger.”

  “I don’t want to risk losing you,” Saltar Kemp said quietly. Even as we argued, her eyes brimmed with warmth. “There has been so much change already, and the adjustment has not been easy. But I have to admit the saltars and rim leaders are leaning toward accepting your offer to explore.”

  Before Brantley could seize the tacit approval, an attendant had rushed into the office with news: Watchers at the telescope had seen the island shifting course. It was moving away.

  “No more time for endless meetings and debate.” Brantley stood, rocking side to side as if already riding Navar. “I’m going to find whatever the new land can offer.”

  Saltar Kemp twisted her hands together. “And you?” The gaze that had excelled at analyzing my dance technique now analyzed my soul. Did I have the courage and strength for this? Was I listening for the Maker’s guidance or bounding ahead into folly?

  “Would you rather send a dancer who is whole?” I asked. My wounded tendon throbbed in reminder of my weakness.

  The High Saltar actually snorted. “Carya, there is no one I would trust with this more than you. If Brantley is determined to go, the other saltars will demand a representative of the Order to accompany him.”

  He had grinned then, and we left her office with her final words ringing in our ears. “Bring her back to us, herder.”

  Now my toes dangled, catching splashes of water, and I tasted sweet ocean spray on my lips. In spite of the possible perils ahead and the desperate need of our people, I stretched my arms in a happy sigh. After hobbling around the Order with its harsh walls and rigid cobblestones, riding the wild ocean set me free.

  “Admit it.” Brantley nudged my hip with his foot. “You missed this.”

  I grinned but kept my face forward so he wouldn’t see. “I do like spending time with Navar.” I patted her rubbery withers, and she whistled and chirped her approval.

  Brantley barked a laugh. “Navar? And what about her herder?”

  I glanced back at him. Knees slightly bent, he rode the waves as if he belonged to the sea. Though the shadows of injustice, violence, and death had cast hard lines into the set of his jaw, my heart warmed to see how wind and waves softened the edges. He was a good man with a noble heart, though he would probably scoff at me if I said such a thing aloud.

  “I suppose I’ve gotten used to having you around too,” I finally admitted.

  He laughed again, his chest full of sea air and confidence.

  I tightened my headscarf, tucking stray hairs back under control and wishing I could tuck my emotions away as easily. Though I was no longer in the Order, it still seemed wrong to even contemplate a life attached to another. Yet when I was with Brantley, he had a way of making the impossible seem probable. Which was why I had to find a better way to hide my affection for him. Letting him believe in a future to which I could not commit only fed false hopes.

  As if reading my thoughts, Brantley leaned down and squeezed my shoulder. “Stop worrying. Everything will work out.”

  I looked over my shoulder again at safety and home. Meriel’s shoreline undulated with the waves, then pulled away and grew smaller. The river that now led all the way inland to Middlemost cut a path through willows and ferns. Upland, taller pines painted dark green swaths. Higher ground offered glimpses of meadows and farmlands. Vertigo swept over me at being untethered from everything familiar. By the time we reached the foreign island, we probably wouldn’t be able to see our home. We could be lost forever in the vast ocean. “Are you sure Navar will find her way back?”

  “She’s always brought me safely home.” He whistled a signal to his stenella. “Hold on.”

  My legs tightened against Navar’s sleek body. The folded fins along her side expanded into wide wings. She caught an updraft, and we rose. I sipped in a sharp breath and held it. The view was spectacular. I’d learned to enjoy short glides, but not when she rose this high above the water.

  Brantley shielded his eyes. “Still quite a distance. I hope we reach it by nightfall.”

  I tried to follow his gaze, but the height created dizzying patterns on the waves, and I squeezed my eyes shut until Navar lowered back to the ocean’s surface. Air exploded from my lungs. I collapsed forward to hug as much of her neck as I could reach.

  Brantley chuckled, and I wished for something to throw at him. I’d like to see him take a pattern test under the unforgiving glare of the saltars. Then I could laugh at his fears.

  We rode all the rest of the day, eating an occasional saltcake. Navar grabbed a few surface fish without pausing. I was grateful she refrained from diving deep for her lunch. The last time I’d ridden her during a dive, I’d nearly drowned.

  The primary sun dipped into the sea, and the subsun cast long shadows before we drew near the new island.

  “Look at the gulls.” An eager lilt colored Brantley’s voice at this sign of good fishing.

  The birds danced their own pattern of hopeful swoops and circles. My misgivings slipped into the background as I appreciated their acrobatics. Dearest Maker, thank You for designing so much beauty.

  My forehead bunched. Could I speak to Him out here? Did He abide on the currents this far away from Meriel? He was the One who had shaped our island and guided all her people—though that knowledge had been lost to us for years. But would this new place introduce me to a different Maker? A chill lifted the hairs on my arms, and I rubbed them.

  The deep and silent voice for which I’d learned to listen gave a low chuckle. “My child, I am the One. The Maker of all.” Awe sent a different kind of shiver through me.

  “Are you cold?” Without waiting for an answer, Brantley pulled a cloak from his pack and draped it around my shoulders.

  I stiffened against the warmth that his kindness kindled in my chest. My childhood in the Order had taught me to neither expect nor need compassion. Since meeting Brantley, I’d tasted the sweetness of another’s support, and I feared I’d lean on it too much. Being cared for was too alluring. I needed to keep my focus on the purpose of our journey. “Do you think we’ll find persea fruit?” I called over my shoulder. “Or tubers? Or stinging lanthrus? How much can we bring back before the lands are too far apart?”

  “We’d have an easier time if the dancers would steer Meriel closer.”

  “Saltar Kemp has the dancers performing the old turning pattern to keep Meriel in place, but she won’t use that for long.” That pattern had bound our world for a generation. Kemp didn’t want to make the mistakes of recent High Saltars. Meriel had new currents to follow, which made this brief opportunity even more crucial.

  As we drew nearer, the subsun glinted off the water. My eyes ached from straining to see details of the island ahead of us. Instead of the gently sloping shape of Meriel, brown tangleroot vines wove upward around supple trees I’d never seen before. Thin, green trunks coiled toward
the sky, covered with willowlike fronds that stayed in constant motion, stirred by the breeze. Multiple layers deep, the trees, vines, and branches created a vertical wall along the rim almost the height of the many-storied Order tower.

  Brantley gave a low whistle. “Guess we don’t have to worry about any inhabitants noticing Meriel. They couldn’t see out through this forest.”

  I frowned. “But how will we find a way in?” As I spoke, the subsun dove beneath the horizon, transforming the ocean into a navy carpet studded with the crystal reflections of millions of stars. Any other day, I’d savor the beauty. But I was balanced on the back of a sea creature, out of sight of my home, facing a menacing wall of . . .

  Something brushed against my foot, and I squeaked, yanking my feet out of the water.

  “Told you there would be fish. Now if only we could find a spot to toss them.” Brantley coaxed Navar into another upward surge, but this time she didn’t find an updraft, so we quickly splashed back to the surface. With no place to go ashore, we skimmed along the foliage wall for what seemed like miles, a starlit carpet on one side and a black wall of trees on the other.

  Eventually, Navar slowed. Brantley sank down and settled both his legs along the side of her body that faced the island. After another low whistle, she stopped swimming and stretched like a weary dancer after class.

  Brantley patted her flank. “She needs a rest.”

  A knot twisted in my stomach. “Maybe we should go back.”

  “How does that give her a rest?” Brantley’s chiding tone made me bristle.

  I crossed my arms. “Maybe a slow swim . . .” As Navar relaxed deeper into the ocean, water lapped higher on my ankles. I bit my lip. “Will she sink?”

  Brantley reached down and scooped up a drink of water, then offered his cupped hands to me. The honeyed flavor still startled me, since I’d been raised on the filtered water of the Order, but with my second sip I savored the milky, sweet liquid. It filled my stomach better than the saltcakes we’d nibbled throughout the day.