The New Elite
Exceptional S. Beaufont™ Book 4
Sarah Noffke
Michael Anderle
This book is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Sometimes both.
Copyright © 2020 Sarah Noffke & Michael Anderle
Cover by Mihaela Voicu http://www.mihaelavoicu.com/
Cover copyright © LMBPN Publishing
A Michael Anderle Production
LMBPN Publishing supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.
The distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact support@lmbpn.com. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
LMBPN Publishing
PMB 196, 2540 South Maryland Pkwy
Las Vegas, NV 89109
First US Edition, March 2020
eBook ISBN: 978-1-64202-787-7
Print ISBN: 978-1-64202-788-4
Contents
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
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Chapter 79
Chapter 80
Chapter 81
Chapter 82
Chapter 83
Chapter 84
Chapter 85
Chapter 86
Chapter 87
Chapter 88
Chapter 89
Chapter 90
Chapter 91
Chapter 92
Chapter 93
Chapter 94
Chapter 95
Chapter 96
Chapter 97
Chapter 98
Chapter 99
Chapter 100
Chapter 101
Chapter 102
Chapter 103
Chapter 104
Chapter 105
Chapter 106
Chapter 107
Chapter 108
Chapter 109
Chapter 110
Chapter 111
Chapter 112
Chapter 113
Chapter 114
Chapter 115
Chapter 116
Chapter 117
Chapter 118
Chapter 119
Sarah’s Author Notes
Michael’s Author Notes
Acknowledgments
Books By Sarah Noffke
Check out Sarah Noffke’s YA Sci-fi Fantasy Series
Books By Michael Anderle
Connect with The Authors
The New Elite Team
Thanks to the JIT Readers
Angel LaVey
Deb Mader
Debi Sateren
Diane L. Smith
Dorothy Lloyd
Jackey Hankard-Brodie
Jeff Eaton
Jeff Goode
Larry Omans
Micky Cocker
Misty Roa
Nicole Emens
Paul Westman
Peter Manis
Veronica Stephan-Miller
If we’ve missed anyone, please let us know!
Editor
The Skyhunter Editing Team
For Craig F, my favorite gillie.
Thank you for all your help making the Scotland setting come alive.
— Sarah
To Family, Friends and
Those Who Love
to Read.
May We All Enjoy Grace
to Live the Life We Are
Called.
— Michael
Chapter One
Over one thousand years ago
The undulant waters of the North Sea crashed into Captain Quiet’s ship, nearly scuttling it in the stormy seas. He’d never seen a storm like it.
The ship, the McAfee, was used to negotiating the trade route but had never done so in a storm of this magnitude. No one else had dared to voyage out when the storm clouds promised torrential downpour, but Quiet had no choice. Their cargo was of supreme importance.
He thought of the families below the deck seeking refuge from a warring nation, unable to live any longer in their home country. The refugees staying on land wasn’t an option. They would have been captured again and imprisoned.
Then there would have been no way for Quiet to rescue them. The only options were to leave immediately and voyage across the seas in the deadly storm and hope Mother Nature cut them some slack. Alas, it appeared she wasn’t going to take pity on the crew of the McAfee.
The howling winds ripped through the mainsail and tore it in two, making the ropes whip out and knocking one of the crew to the deck.
Quiet spun and pointed to the men trying to stabilize the mainmast. One more heavy wind would crack it in half.
Without a word, the Captain of the McAfee sent one of the crew members to help the fallen sailor.
Quiet had always been called so by his crew, although it wasn’t his real name. They always seemed to understand him, even though he was so soft-spoken. It was just how he was made, and he would have it no other way. When he did speak where others could hear him, people listened, an excellent reason to always be less instead of more. He had never minded being physically smaller than the magicians, elves, and fae on his crew. Size was a relative thing for him.
Right then, his low center of gravity kept him steady as his men stumbled across the deck. The storm was getting worse. The McAfee tilted violently to the side, nearly capsizing yet again.
They wouldn’t make it through the storm to their destination. N
one of them would survive the night. Quiet knew that with absolute certainty.
He had one option. It would save the refugees. It would save his crew and the McAfee.
But it would, without a doubt, kill him.
Chapter Two
A gnome’s magic could be stored for an extended period of time. Unlike magicians, gnomes could vault away power like a savings account, allowing it to build.
Quiet had been doing so for years. He couldn’t remember the last time he had used magic, preferring to do things with his hands and his mind instead. This situation was precisely why he had been hoarding his magic.
Maybe subconsciously, he’d known something of this magnitude would happen, or perhaps it was only destiny. Quiet wasn’t sure if he believed in such things. Right then, it didn’t matter because his voyage had come to an end.
He grabbed the ship’s wheel and began to mutter a series of incantations. The crew wouldn’t know what had happened until it was too late for them to do anything. The important thing was, they would be safe, and the families would be unharmed. The McAfee would land in the calm waters of the Atlantic Ocean, unscathed and ready to sail another day.
The spell he was knotting together wouldn’t kill Quiet, but it would make him pass out and where he landed, well, that would ensure an eventual death. He wouldn’t be on board the McAfee anymore, the only place he’d ever thought of as home.
But that was exactly why he had to save it.
The gnome rotated the ship’s wheel three turns to the right, managing to remain steady as the crew was thrown back and forth across the deck.
He whipped the wheel the opposite way, two turns, as the mainmast creaked, a dangerous sound that hinted of last moments.
Finally, Quiet stepped backward and bowed his head in a final goodbye, rain splattering his face and covering the tears flowing down his cheeks.
The McAfee flickered. Quiet worried the spell hadn’t worked. He glanced at his feet that remained on the moving deck. When his ship disappeared around him, he smiled, knowing his spell had worked.
He had transported his ship, its crew, and those they had rescued to calm, safe waters where they could sail on to a better place.
Briefly suspended in mid-air, Quiet said a simple goodbye to the Earth he’d loved all his life and would no longer see again, then he plunged into the unforgiving waters of the North Sea to be swept up in the great storm. He could save an entire ship and its people, but ironically not himself. Not if he was going to funnel all his power into ensuring the spell worked, and there was no reason to do anything unless it was done right.
The exhaustion hit him as soon as he plunged into the freezing cold sea. Waves buried him and carried the gnome away.
Chapter Three
The afterlife tasted like sand.
To Quiet’s surprise, his body still hurt after death. He thought he’d feel weightless. Free. Finally, at peace.
But instead, everything in his body screamed for his attention. Especially his lungs.
He rolled over on to his back, and that’s when the eruption began. Coughs rocketed from the little gnome’s body and made him think he’d choke on his lungs. The idea he still had lungs after drowning in the North Sea was especially perplexing.
Quiet continued to cough, a seemingly unending sound that was especially loud in his ears even though they were clogged with water.
Rolling over once more, Quiet got to his hands and knees and spat out what felt like a gallon of water. It filled his mouth and triggered his gag reflex.
Dying was horrible. He hoped it would be over soon, but something told him it might not. It might have been his gasping for air, even as his chest burned and his face felt hot.
He shook his head, and wet hair spattered across his eyes. All Quiet wanted was for this death thing to be over. It appeared death, like everything in life, was a process. He crawled across the sandy beach, which he fully believed was a part of his hallucination.
He was sinking to the bottom of the North Sea. That was what was happening.
The granules of sand under his fingers was the strangest sensation. The cold wind whipping across his water-soaked body was surreal, and the heaviness of the emotion that he’d never see the world he loved again was the worst heartache he’d ever known.
It all had to be an illusion, he thought to himself. The thought sent him back on his tailbone to sit and look at the choppy sea, feeling as though surrender was a fake breath away. The gnome rocked back and forth, his hands in his lap as he shivered violently. He wasn’t sure why he saw whitecaps and a gray sky and a storm in the distance when Quiet knew he was drowning. It was just how death was, he guessed.
He had never done it before, so it made sense it would feel all strange and disorienting. Death, like life, had to be a bit like trickery. One moment you think you’re going to win and then it all crashed down. Just like Quiet had thought they’d get away scot-free with the refugees, or like so many times in life when things felt comfortable and then became the hardest thing in the world.
The Captain of the McAfee sat staring at the ocean, wondering when clouds and sky and angels would welcome him to the afterlife.
It didn’t come.
When hunger and thirst set in after a long hour, something he hadn’t expected appeared.
“Hello, dear,” a woman’s voice sang beside Quiet.
He turned his head and found a creature who looked more like a tree than a person. Her skin was brown and flakey like bark. Her hair flowed like vines, and her eyes were the color of the bluest sky. They blinked at him in a way that made Quiet feel unconditionally loved.
“Who are you?” Quiet asked. He found it strange how he had a voice.
“I’m Mother Nature,” the figure said.
“Mother Nature?” he asked. He spoke louder than he usually did. “Is this heaven?”
She shook her head of vines. “Oh, no. You’re still alive, but not for long unless I save you, which I intend to do.”
“What?” Quiet questioned. He was thoroughly confused. “How can you save me? I died.”
“No, not quite. But you’re close. And, I’m Mother Nature,” she argued. “I can do whatever I like. After your brave sacrifice, I have a proposal for you. It will mean you live an extraordinarily long life.”
He looked at the sea he loved so much, at the world he’d cherished all his life. Finally, he stared at the strange woman he felt intimately acquainted with. “What is it? What would you have me do to stay here on this Earth? I’ll do whatever it takes, Mother Nature.”
“You can start by calling me Mama Jamba,” the woman said and laid her bark-covered hands over Quiet’s, taking away any pain that remained in his being. “You and I are about to start a friendship that will last a very, very long time.”
Chapter Four
Present day
The groundskeeper for the Gullington spooned sugar onto his bowl of hot porridge, his attention honed on sprinkling it evenly.
“How is Bell?” Sophia asked Mahkah when he entered the dining hall of the Castle. His boots were muddy as he pulled off his gloves, and there was dragon blood on his cloak. He’d obviously been on the Expanse, changing Bell’s bandages again.
He nodded, sniffling, his nose red from the cold. Spring was warming up the Gullington, but not by much. “She’s better, although only marginally. It’s going to be a long healing process for her,” Mahkah answered
“Relatively speaking,” Evan stated. “A year isn’t really a big deal in the scheme of things when you’re a dragon.”
“You wouldn’t want to be down for a year,” Sophia said, her lips pursed and a disapproving look on her face.
“Girl, I was down for close to a century, with nothing to do,” Evan complained. His eyes flicked to Quiet, spooning more sugar onto his porridge.
“But you could still walk,” Sophia argued. She watched as Wilder slipped into the seat across from her, carefully keeping his eyes down and trying to be inconspi
cuous.