M. Bradley Davis
Dying isn’t scheduled today, Ashur grimly thought. “Keep close to the trees!” He warned Raeven as another bolt scorched past, barely missing him. “Zigzag! Make their shots as difficult as possible!” He and Raeven dodged in and out of the trees as energy bolts whizzed around them.
Ashur and Raeven are eleven years old. Growing up on Lalor isn’t easy. Staring down death seems easier than facing everyday life. They are loners, bullied and taunted by other kids. Earning their parents’ approval takes courage. Ashur and Raeven become messengers who run from town to town. They must prove their integrity every day. People across Lalor watch how they act—toward friends, customers, and each other. Ashur and Raeven must display their best spirit all the time.
Jerry Saunders and Kelvin Merritt visit the Junkyard system aboard Startreader. They’re ready to learn how to work in space. Labor in a hostile outdoors builds character in the boys. Jerry’s heroes take on new importance—and Kelvin listens, too. Tales spin wildly as the boys chase legends of paradise from Earth and Caris.
Meanwhile, a Carisian spaceship fights an old enemy. That battle changes everyone’s future. Carisians started the Lalor Colony. Now, two hundred years of peace may come to an end with Lalor squarely in the middle.
Ashur and Raeven face many tests as they carry messages across the thirty-town colony. They visit beautiful sites and have exciting adventures. Their success rushes Ashur and Raeven headlong into unexpected adventure. They overcome adversity and make new friends along the way—including Kelvin and Jerry. First, the teenage team must rescue Ashur and Raeven from certain death. Then, the mind-brothers assist their new friends with their biggest challenge—saving Lalor from invasion!
Join Ashur, Raeven, Jerry, and Kelvin in an Encounter at Lalor...
M. Bradley Davis’ sixth grade English teacher made a mistake. She introduced him to poetry. (Thank you, Mrs. Foster!) Since then, Mr. Davis has learned that poetry is not his forte. However, he loves telling stories. Mr. Davis wrote short stories during high school. Novels appeared toward the end of college.
Mr. Davis became a teacher in 1985. He taught fourth grade for thirteen years. He taught all the usual subjects; he also taught courtesy, honesty, respect, and truthfulness. Mr. Davis was listed in Who’s Who Among America’s Teachers. He has been twice listed in Who’s Who Among Young American Professionals.
Today, he is part of the school district’s technology department. His former students inspire Mr. Davis’ characters. Mr. Davis enjoys spending time with young people. He finds tidbits for his stories in the people around him. Mr. Davis is active in his church. His hobbies include reading, writing, amateur astronomy, and photography.
This is Mr. Davis’ sixth book. He has previously published five novels through AuthorHouse. Tunnel Of Dreams is a short fantasy novel. The Hand in the Mirror and The Canopus Conundrum are the first two MindFusion books. A Spark of Magic is the first book in a series about gifted musicians. The Enchanted Rapiers is historical fantasy that leads cousins into their family’s past. The Hand in the Mirror was a Fiction-SciFi finalist in the 2003 ForeWord Magazine Book of the Year competition.
Mr. Davis’ web site is www.StarTreader.com. He encourages readers to ask questions of the author, see where he’s scheduled to speak, and request a personal appearance. Details about his books and ongoing projects are posted there, too. Readers might even find a free story or two! Please visit Mr. Davis’ web site often!
Mr. Davis lives in the Texas Hill Country.
From Chapter 10: Responsibility
Talented teammates Ashur and Raeven face many dangers as they carry messages across the Lalor Colony…
“I’m right behind you!” Ashur answered with a grin. He let her move at least two meters into the creek before immersing his feet in the cool rushing water. Ashur watched where he put his feet as he crossed the damaged ford, following generally in Raeven’s path. The clear, gurgling water was just over ankle deep and felt wonderfully good on his tired feet. Seddon Creek was only a half a dozen meters wide. He glanced up and saw Raeven nearing the bank. He returned his eyes to the streambed and continued across.
Raeven’s sudden scream jerked his attention to her. She grabbed her ankle, bouncing up and down on one leg in the grasses beyond the stream’s bank.
“Raeven!”
“I’m snake bit!”
“Where?”
“Above my ankle! There goes the snake!” She pointed.
Ashur bounded to the edge of the stream—splashing water everywhere—even as he reached for the hatchet on his belt and his eyes darted where she pointed. He saw the snake. The hatched flew from his hand without thought, rotating through the air. The blade bit cleanly through the snake’s neck.
“Got it!” He glanced toward Raeven, who remained standing on one leg. “Get to the route and sit down!” His tone allowed only obedience. Even as she complied, Ashur shrugged from his backpack, pulled his towel from within, and made his way to the snake. He shook out the towel, gathered the still writhing body and the severed head—avoiding the fangs—and wrapped them securely in the sturdy material. He shook his head. The banding pattern on the snake’s back wasn’t familiar. The package went into his backpack. Ashur quickly followed Raeven.
Raeven sat on the route’s hard-packed dirt when he reached her.
“Don’t move around,” he ordered sharply as he dropped his backpack beside her. Ashur then opened her backpack—which was still on her back—and removed her towel. Several brisk flips of his wrists spread the material on the ground. “Put your leg here.”
She twisted her leg into place even as Ashur finished placing the towel. Blood dripped from the punctures.
“What kind of snake was it?”
“I don’t know,” he told her. “I’ve never seen it before. It wasn’t in the material we studied.” He nodded to his backpack beside her, amazed at how easily he remembered their first aid training class. “Get my undershirt out of that and tear it into strips.”
Raeven pulled Ashur’s backpack to her and did as he instructed.
“Is the snake poisonous?”
“Probably.” Ashur took a deep breath. “It was fanged.”
“I noticed.” Her wry tone picked up a hint of fear—and pain. “It burns. What do we do?”
Ashur reached for his knife. “I’m going to bleed you,” he told her. “Then, we’re going to put a tourniquet around your leg—and get you back to Bendoc as fast as we can.”
The snakebite punctures dripped more blood—and drops of a thick, greenish goo—on Raeven’s towel as she worked. Raeven ripped Ashur’s undershirt with her hands, making several strips long enough to bind around her leg.
“This will hurt, Raeven,” Ashur said as he poised the sharpest part of his knife blade above one fang puncture.
