Streaks of Purple Saga Volume One - Heather Ray (phonics reader .txt) 📗

born! The Empire killed him!”

His smile softened as he shook his head. “No. I was brought into the service of the Power Rangers.”

Erol gazed at the aged man with wonder, tinted with distrust. “The Power Rangers? Who liberated the planet seventy years ago?”

“How can you possibly still be alive?” Kreia asked incredulously, “Regita was older than my great-grandmother, Jen’ha, and she died before I was even born. She lived a long life too.”

At the mention of his sister, Regita gazed at the girl before him with new appreciation.
After all…Zordon did mention that magical potency is in some ways a heritable quality. Just like certain aspects of intelligence or appearance can be passed down, certain brain patterns were more adept to learning magic than others. Therefore, it was entirely possible that his great-grandniece had a similar construction, making it possible for her to recognize magic without being formally trained.

Kreia frowned with discomfort at Regita’s intense stare. Erol gazed at her worriedly, finally stepping between them and fixing the old man with a suspicious glare.

“How can you be alive?” he repeated, his tone severe. “Regita would be a hundred years old. No one can live that long!”

“One hundred nineteen, actually,” Regita corrected with a humored grin. “Magic can do wonders.”

Kreia’s eyes widened with heightened interest at the statement. “Magic?” she repeated with awe. “As in real magic? Not just little tricks?”

Regita pointed at the book she clutched so strongly. “That text formed the foundation of a lifetime of intense study under Zordon of Eltar, the savior of Earth. It was part of my training. And now, seventy years after the war was won, the Power Rangers are needed again.” He fixed the girl with a pleading gaze. “Can I count on you?”

Her lip trembled, and for once she met Regita’s intense gaze without stepping back in fear. He seemed so sincere…she could sense his desperation and honesty almost as easily as she could sense his presence earlier.

Of course, the possibility wasn’t lost upon her that this was all a trap. But what would an evil alien have to gain by abducting her…just another young girl, one of a thousand such girls to reside in the remains of an Imperial capitol?

Meanwhile, Erol stared in astonishment as Kreia obviously considered the proposal. “You’re not serious!” he declared.

“Time is of the essence,” Regita revealed. “As we speak, a new force approaches Earth. I must assembled the Power Rangers, just in case we are in danger of attack. You, Kreia, have a magical awareness exceedingly rare in humans. I am certain that, with training, you will be an able mage, and a worthy Ranger.”

Kreia brightened at the very notion. “Me? A Power Ranger?”

Regita nodded. “Yes. And together, we must find six more worthy individuals. I must count on you to help me find them, for the situation is pressing.”

As if instinctively, both turned to Erol, who blinked at the sudden attention.

“What?” he demanded.

“I can count on you,” Kreia stated, gazing at him imploringly. “Right?”

Erol fell silent, suddenly lost in the depth of those pleading midnight eyes. The typically exuberant girl rarely displayed such a passion…it was impossible to resist.

Finally, he nodded. “Where you go, I go.”
Chapter Seven

A young man gazed at the crystal blue waters, the strong sea air weaving through his long, sandy blonde hair. Hard sapphire eyes pierced the matching sea, narrowing slowly at the sign of motion.

"Here," he said, stopping the rhythmical motion of rowing. Beside him on the small wooden boat, a middle-aged man also paused his oar, a smirk growing on his face.

"You always sound so sure of yourself, Zale," he commented, watching the tall, sturdy young man rise. He then stood, helping him to cast the large net into the bobbing waters.

"Confidence is half the battle. You taught me that, Father."

Ich'ni smiled with pride at his only child... something to be proud of indeed. Handsome, sharp, strong, brave... young Zale had all the qualities of a good man. Also, his skill at fishing assured his family would always eat well.

As the pair carefully lowered the net into the waters, the winds picked up, causing the boat to rock more violently. Zale's eyes narrowed as he glared up at the sky, which suddenly grew overcast with a thick grayish cloud cover.

"By the gods..." he whispered, his jaw slowly dropping.

Ich'ni stared upwards, his lips quivering. "Zale! Get down!"

Both men fell to the bottom of the boat, clutching the sides with all their might as a thunderous roar erupted from the sky. The waves crashed violently, until the small boat was overwhelmed by the agitated sea. Zale and his father screamed as the boat capsized.

Whizzing high above was a structure, slicing through the heavens en route to the mainland.

Chapter Eight

A pair of dark almond-shaped eyes swept through the dense foliage with the intensity of sunlight on a summer's afternoon. The gaze was attracted to the gentle rustling of leaves on a lush bush nearby.

To the common observer, the faint swaying would melt in with the rest of the forest, bending lazily to the summer breeze. Yet this was no common observer.

A body, powerful yet lithe, slunk between bushes like a serpent. The fierce gaze remained focused, cutting through shrubbery like a knife's sharp edge.

Finally, after creeping behind a large oak tree, the gaze fell upon its target: a delicate doe, lapping at a small creek of fresh water.

The stag paid the hunter no heed, not even when a razor sharp spear reflected the sunlight that pierced the dense forest.

However, a heartbeat before the spear darted from the hunter's hand, the stag jerked its head, turning toward a faint sound.

The animal moved just enough to avoid doom.

The stag reacted quickly to the spear that just missed its chest. It scampered into the foliage, disappearing between swaying branches.

The hunter muttered quietly, stepping out from his hiding space. His skin, naturally pale but tinted with the healthy tan of summer, glistened with a mist of sweat from his athletic endeavors. His only clothing was a pair of loose pants, cropped just beneath the knee and held on his waist by a coarse rope. His flowing jet-black hair was tied near the top of his head with a similar rope, and dangled just past his shoulder.

The man's almond eyes focused downstream. In that direction, a very soft sound silenced the babbling stream, surely loud enough to attract his prey's attention earlier.

"Sener," he groaned, pulling the spear out from the tree.

Chapter Nine

A young man played his stringed instrument serenely, his head bobbing gently to the tune that sailed from his strumming fingertips. His eyes were closed, and his short crop of dark chocolate curls, just a few shades darker than his milk chocolate skin, fluttered along with the leaves in the tree in which he took refuge.

He felt inspired by the gentle roll of the creek below, and accompanied its whisper with his own composition.

His dreamlike reverie was interrupted by a sharp hissing sound, and a powerful gust of air. Startled, he sat up, his eyes darting in the direction of the sound.

His throat closed when he saw a wooden arrow embedded in the tree trunk he leaned upon.

There was only about an inch of space between his nose and the weapon.

He jerked back, momentarily forgetting his location. Losing his balance upon the branch, he tumbled to the ground, shrieking as he crashed into the grassy knoll beneath him.

He sputtered the grass that had filled his mouth, and lifted his head. His jaw set at the pair of leather sandals and powerful legs that stood just in front of him.

"What in the name of the gods do you think you're doing, Kazu!!" the young man shrieked, falling into a sitting position. He stared up at the imposing warrior, who stood firmly with a bow in one hand and spear clutched in the other. The glaring frown he wore was enough to strike fear into the hearts of most of the inhabitants of Gateway City.
But Sener knew better.

"I was hunting my family's evening meal," Kazu barked, "until it fled from me."

Sener blinked in surprise. No prey could ever escape the greatest hunter in the known world.

"It ran?" Sener breathed in disbelief.

"Rather, it fled from you, and your noise."

Sener cringed at the insult, rising to his full height. While still several inches shy of the warrior, and easily half the muscle mass, his gait harbored none of the intimidation others would feel in his position.

"My music is not noise," Sener defended, "and I do not find your insults at all worthy of you. My artistic pursuits are not a waste!"

Kazu remained firm. "What do they serve? Your sculptures hold no water, your songs do not fill stomachs."

"The gods gave you a sharp eye and fast hands. They gave me insight into the hearts of men and women."

Kazu smirked. "Let's see that insight put food on-"

The argument, which was only a reprise of their regular encounters, was interrupted by an earthshaking roar from the clouds. Both men stumbled to