Fallen
Chapters (34)
- Cover Page
- Dedication
- Acknowledgments
- Map
- Part One
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Part Two
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Part Three
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- About the Author
- Also by Tim Lebbon
- Preview for Island
- Copyright
Cover Page
FALLEN
CONTENTS
Cover Page
Title Page
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Map
Part One
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Part Two
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Part Three
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
About the Author
Also by Tim Lebbon
Preview for Island
Copyright
Dedication
This one's for my good friend Steve Volk
Acknowledgments
Acknowledgments
Major thanks, as always, go to Anne Groell, editor extraordinaire, and to Josh and everyone at Bantam. Also a massive thank-you to my agent, Howard Morhaim, for advice, wisdom, enthusiasm, and encouragement when it's needed.
Map
Part One
PART ONE
The final
Voyage
Ten—Into the Wild—Betrayals
“Humans crave knowledge, and when that craving ends, we are no longer human.”
Sordon Perlenni, the First Voyager
Chapter 1
Chapter 1
RAMUS RHEEL HATED the moment between sleeping and waking. It was a strange place, haunted by recent dreams and the ghosts of those long since passed, and he loathed it even more when one of the fading dreams was a good one. This latest had been about a voyage, though one he had not yet made. Dreams about voyages he had made were more usually night-mares.
He sat up and held his head as the dizziness filtered away and real life forced itself in. He was forty-four years old. He could recall a dream he'd had when he was six—sailing west from the shores of Noreela and finding the edge of the world— but he had already forgotten the one he'd just had. He wondered whether this was peculiar to him.
Yet what had woken him? It was not yet dawn, and the streets were quiet. A dog whimpered somewhere and surreptitious footsteps echoed, but Long Marrakash was still largely asleep. And so should he be, if he knew what was best for him.
Something banged in the room next door. It was the main room in his home and contained the only door onto the street.
He froze, listening hard. Another knock, wood against wood. That was my chair being nudged into the table, Ramus thought. He stood quickly, wincing as his knees popped, and reached back across his bed. He kept his leather weapon roll on a shelf above where he slept, but it had not been used for a while. He grabbed one trailing strap, pulled, and the roll unraveled onto the bed.
Something scraped across the floor, and he heard a muttered curse.
Ramus's heart was thumping. He'd had occasion to fight several times on his voyages, but he had never thought himself a fighting man. He had no grace of movement and his reaction speed was slow, and he had scars that bore testament to that.
He drew a short knife from the roll and knelt beside the bed, losing himself in deeper shadows.
“Ramus?” The voice was low and uncertain.
Ramus half stood, then thought better of it. Just because they know my name doesn't mean they're here for anything good.