Fire Defender
Book One
Ring Defender Series
Rodney W. Hartman
DEDICATION
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This book is dedicated to my son-in-law Jonathan. You have been an encourager during my writing, not to mention you’ve spent many hours reading drafts of my manuscripts and making suggestions. You’ve been a big help over the years. More than that though, you have been a good husband to my daughter and a good dad to my grandchildren. I appreciate that more than I can ever say. You are a good man. Thanks for being who you are.
Copyright © 2018 by Rodney Wayne Hartman
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover Design by Laercio Messias
Editing services by The Pro Book Editor
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Other Books by Rodney Hartman
Intergalactic Wizard Scout Chronicles
Wizard Defiant Book One
Wizard Cadet Book Two
Wizard Scout Book Three
Wizard Omega Book Four
Wizard Rebellion Book Five
Wizard Betrayed Book Six
Wizard Redeemed Book Seven
Wizard Scout Trinity Delgado Series
Trinity Unleashed
Table of Contents
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DEDICATION
Copyright
Table of Contents
Chapter 1 – The Cabin
Chapter 2 – Tess
Chapter 3 – Interrogation
Chapter 4 – Alec
Chapter 5 – Big Jack’s
Chapter 6 –Cynthia
Chapter 7 – The Library
Chapter 8 – The Safe House
Chapter 9 – First Contact
Chapter 10 – Two Rings
Chapter 11 – A Vision
Chapter 12 – Imps
Chapter 13 – Absent
Chapter 14 – Late
Chapter 15 – The Library
Chapter 16 – Only Darkness
Chapter 17 – Imp’s Report
Chapter 18 – Getting Better
Chapter 19 – Delay
Chapter 20 – The Search
Chapter 21 – Practice
Chapter 22 – Missing
Chapter 23 – The Game
Chapter 24 – Post-Game
Chapter 25 – Training
Chapter 26 – Tournament
Chapter 27 – Dark Times
Chapter 28 – Final Plans
Chapter 29 – Execute
Chapter 30 – The Notebook
Chapter 31 – Night Assault
Chapter 32 – The Cabin
Chapter 33 – Bad News
Chapter 34 – The Asset
Chapter 35 – Something This Way Comes
Chapter 36 – Demon
Chapter 37 – Major Jager
Chapter 38 – The Alliance
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Chapter 1 – The Cabin
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Large calloused hands of a man pulled Jenny out of the bed she shared with her younger sister. The chill on her bare feet from the roughhewn wooden floor of the one room log cabin made her shiver. She drew a deep breath of cold air in and expelled a cloud of vapor.
Why is it so cold? Jenny wondered. It’s summer.
She recognized the man as her father. He pulled her to the center of the cabin where her mother, a middle-aged woman dressed in a white nightgown, was busy wrapping a blanket around her sister, barely out of diapers. Jenny looked around the room. The cabin was dark except for the coals from the fireplace and a single tallow candle on the table. A small mirror was nailed to the wall above a washbasin to the left of the fireplace. The reflection of the woman holding the child near a preteen girl with long dark hair was barely visible in the light from the candle.
A scrapping sound on the roof made Jenny look up. The pinewood planks her father had cut for the roof bowed in near the left side. The bulge moved farther up the roof as the scrapping sound intensified.
What’s happening? Jenny wanted to ask. The strained look on her father’s face kept her silent.
Releasing her hand, Jenny’s father grabbed his flintlock from where it hung on wooden pegs above the fireplace. He turned to her mother. “I’ll draw it away. You take the children. I’ll meet you in the woods by the stream.”
“No. We should stick together.”
“Do as I tell you, woman!”
Jenny grew frightened. Her father never spoke so roughly to her mother. Hazy memories of carefree days playing around the cabin in the North Carolina mountains reminded her that he was a kind, bear of a man. As she watched, he raised his right hand and touched her mother’s face with a tenderness more in line with his nature.
“Please, Martha. Just do as I say. There’s no time to argue.”
Jenny looked away from her parents. Something tugged at the back of her mind as if she was forgetting an important detail, but she didn’t know what. She looked around the cabin spotting a pair of calf-high boots under her bed. Rushing back, she grabbed the boots and began slipping them over her bare feet. A small orange hand reached out from underneath the bed and scratched her hand drawing blood. She screamed as a foot-high, grayish-orange creature with leathery wings and a horned head crawled out. It raised itself onto two legs and stretched out two clawed hands in her direction as it bared pointed teeth and hissed. Her mother threw a pot at the miniature demon, hitting it in the chest and knocking it back under the bed. Grabbing Jenny’s hand, the mother dragged her towards the cabin’s only door.
“It’s an imp,” shouted her mother. “Oh God. They’re in the cabin.”
A feeling of pure evil accompanied by an overwhelming hate swept through the cabin. At the same time, something began ripping at the roof from the outside. Finger-length claws tore through the boards on the left side of the roof. Jenny heard her little sister scream. She felt a scream of her own begging for release, but sheer force of will kept the sound bottled inside.
Her father’s calloused hand turned Jenny’s head away from the roof. He knelt on one knee so that his head was level with hers. His wide eyes glistened in the flickering light of the candle.
He’s scared, Jenny thought. The idea that so large a man could be scared terrified her more than the sound of wood being ripped apart above her head.
Cradling the flintlock in his arm, her father twisted at his right ring finger with his left hand. A flash of yellow glinted in the candlelight.
A ring, Jenny thought. Where did that come from?
Grabbing her right hand, her father shoved a dull-silver band with a small yellow gem onto her finger. As soon as he did, Jenny felt a warmth flow through the ring, up her arm, and into her very soul.
“Never take this off,” said her father. “You have to keep it safe. Do you understand?”
Jenny stared at the ring. It shrunk to fit on my finger, she thought. How?
The man grabbed her shoulders and shook her. “You can’t let them get it. The ring is your responsibility now. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Papa,” she said near tears.
Her father stood and looked at his wife. He nodded his head and cocked the hammer back on his musket. “Go to the stream. If I don’t join you by dawn, get to the Williamson’s cabin. Find a way to go west. You h
ave to keep moving. That’s your only hope. Trust no one.”
Jenny’s mother stifled a sob. “George, I—”
George kissed his wife, then pulled back and said, “Don’t count me out yet, woman.” Turning to the door, he lifted the latch and stepped outside.
Dragged by her mother, Jenny ran past her father as he grabbed a hatchet stuck in a stump near the door. She glanced over her shoulder to see her father turn to look at the roof of the cabin as he raised the musket to his shoulder with the hatchet still in his left hand. Twisting free of her mother’s grasp, she spun around and looked at the roof. A large body the size of a grizzly with glowing yellow eyes and giant leathery wings lifted its head and roared. Half a dozen of the foot-high creatures her mother had called “imp” hovered around the larger creature. Jenny instinctively knew the massive creature could only be a demon from the darkest pit of hell. It locked eyes with her. She screamed. Then she was running for all she was worth after her mother and younger sister.
Boom!
A momentary flash lit the tree line ahead as Jenny stumbled. A terrible cry of rage from some otherworldly beast pierced the night. She detected no pain in the monster’s roar. Then she was weaving among the trees, trying her best to keep up with her mother as the woman made a desperate attempt to carry her sister to safety.
A horrible, pain-filled scream came from the direction of the cabin. Both her mother and sister screamed, but her mother kept running. Jenny kept up as best she could.
“We will find you,” shouted a voice that was more growl than words. “There is no place to hide. The ring will be ours. Run while you can. You cannot escape. We will find you.”
* * *
Tess Wilkerson jerked upright in bed with a scream on her lips, catching herself before any sound came out. It was dark. The glow from one of the trailer park’s light poles streamed through an opening in the curtain of her bedroom window. A drop of sweat dripped into her right eye. Her entire t-shirt was soaked.
Wiping her forehead, she reached for the cellphone on her nightstand. Four-thirty, she thought. I’ve got another two hours before I have to get up.
Returning her phone to the stand, Tess lay back on her pillow. It was only a nightmare, just like the others. I’m not Jenny, but it seemed so vivid this time like I was actually there. I don’t know why the dreams are happening more often, but they aren’t real. Nothing’s after me.
Glancing at her right hand, Tess noticed the yellow glow of the gem on her ring. It had once been her mother’s. The glow was brighter than normal. It’s reacting to my mood, that’s all. It was just a nightmare. I wasn’t the little girl in the dream. She’s not real. There is no Jenny. The thing under the bed wasn’t real. Neither was the thing on the roof. Nothing’s after me. I’m safe.
Doubting she could go back to sleep, Tess closed her eyes to at least make the effort. Within two minutes, the only sound in the room was that of her steady breathing. This time she dreamed of happier times. She dreamed of her mother—her real mother—and felt at peace.
Chapter 2 – Tess
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When Tess finally woke, rain was pelting against the bedroom window. Combined with the fading memory of her nightmare, the rain only added to her melancholy mood. She’d never liked Mondays in the first place. Dressing quickly, she glanced through the window at the already dreary day before turning her attention to her dresser mirror. Running a brush through her dirty-blonde hair a couple of times, she did her best to keep the tangles at bay. She took a final look at all five-foot-four of herself in the mirror, taking in her ripped pants, knee-high biker boots, and black leather jacket.
Good enough.
Tossing the brush on top of her cluttered dresser, her eyes went to the only picture of her mother she owned. Her smiling mom and nine-year-old-self brought back memories of a happier time. That had been eight years ago. Tess reached out with her left hand and gingerly picked up the picture. She touched the old photograph with her right hand, running the tips of her fingers over the image of her mother. A flash of yellow from the ring on her right hand drew her attention. The yellow gem in the dull-silver ring glowed softer than it had the night before. Even the warmth the ring normally gave off had a gentler feel. Ever since her mom gave her the ring, Tess had known the piece of jewelry was special. Besides responding to her emotions, it had saved her life the night of the crash. Despite her nightmares, she was glad she had it. It was the only connection with her mother she had that was truly hers.
“I guess I’m missing you more than usual this morning, Mom,” Tess whispered wiping a stray bit of moisture from the corner of her eye. “I’m not going to cry, though. I promised I’d never cry again.”
Setting the picture back in its place, Tess turned to the door of her small bedroom. Once in the hallway of the two-bedroom trailer her dad had rented from one of his drinking buddies, she made straight for the kitchen. Rummaging through the refrigerator, she failed to find the slice of pizza she’d left on the shelf the night before. Since the fridge wasn’t exactly overflowing with food, there weren’t many places for her prize to hide. Closing the door, she turned toward the small, battered table in the corner of the kitchen. Next to two empty beer bottles was a balled-up paper wrapper. A red logo with Big Jack’s Pizzeria was visible on a corner of the paper.
That’s just great. Dad strikes again.
Resigned to another morning without breakfast, Tess tiptoed the three steps to the half-wall separating the kitchen from the living room. The skinny form of her father wearing a dirty pair of jeans and a ragged t-shirt was passed out on the couch. The remaining empties of a six pack and a half-empty bottle of his favorite brand of whiskey were on the floor near his head.
Tess looked at her dad, frowning. Where in the world did he get enough money for the booze? Hastily reaching into her back pocket, Tess pulled out the twenty in tips she’d stashed there the night before, then sighed with relief. At least he didn’t get it from me, she thought. He must’ve conned drinking money out of some other sucker. She looked down at the sleeping man. I wonder what our life would’ve been like if Mom had lived?
A snort from the direction of her dad drew Tess out of her thoughts. She watched him roll onto his side before taking up snoring again. With the movement, the burn scars on the left side of his face and neck were exposed to the morning light.
Tess sighed. I remember him being different when I was younger. Before he was injured, before Mom died in the crash. He was Mr. John Wilkerson, respected businessman, loving husband and dad.
Tess looked down at her dad, thinking of those happier times. To be honest, I barely remember them. What I do remember is a nice house and clothes and a whole lot of laughing. I remember thinking how much Mom and Dad loved each other. She shook her head in an attempt to clear the memories. Reminiscing never did any good. Maybe he’s not much now, but he’s all I’ve got. This is my life now. I’ve got to deal with it.
Picking up a worn blanket from the end of the sofa, Tess spread it over her father with care not to wake him. After a final look at the sleeping man, she picked up her book bag and threw it over her shoulder, then froze.
It feels too light.
Fear swept through Tess. Yanking the pack off, she unzipped it and looked inside. Her stomach felt suddenly empty.
My laptop’s gone.
Tess eyed the empty beer bottles and half-empty whiskey container on the floor. The realization of where her dad had gotten the money for his night of binge drinking swept over her. She was tempted to wake her father and have it out with him but resisted the urge. She knew it would do no good even if he were sober.
She glanced at the clock. I don’t have time for a yelling match now. My science project’s due this morning. I’ve got just enough time to get to the library and get a copy of my backup files if I hurry.
Grabbing the key to her motorcycle from the hook to the left side of the door, she hastily threw on her rain jacket and helmet befo
re stepping out the door to meet another Monday.
I really hate Mondays.
She made directly for her motorcycle secured to a light pole near their trailer. Unchaining the cycle, Tess pushed it around a bicycle lying on the ground and past a beat-up, faded-green pickup. Once far enough from the trailer not to wake her dad, she started the engine and weaved her way through the trailer park, onto the highway.
The ride to town was short. There really wasn’t much to Covington. Compared to some of the places where her father had dragged her over the past few years, the little town stuck in the northwest of Washington state was nice enough, but why anyone would want to live there was beyond her.
Heck, there isn’t even a decent restaurant in town unless you call Big Jack’s decent. I’m not surprised Dad’s already talking about moving again. Six months in the same place is almost a new record. To be honest, I was hoping we’d stay here long enough for me to graduate high school. Another six months is all I need.
Zipping through the town’s main street, Tess pulled her cycle into the alley at the side of a two-story building. The words Covington Library were stenciled in faded letters on a large metal sign bolted to the side of the building. A brand new, bright-blue, four-door pickup was in the middle of the gravel drive blocking access to the employee parking lot in the back of the building.
Tess snorted. Somebody’s got some money. Must be nice. For such a Podunk place, there’s a lot of money floating around this old town.
Maneuvering her cycle around the vehicle, she was tempted to kick the truck’s door as she went past. She appeased her irritation with a thought of ‘jerk’ and left the truck door undamaged. Once in the rear parking area, she stopped next to a convenient post and dismounted. Extracting a chain and padlock from her backpack, she secured the motorcycle to the post before running up the steps to the library’s rear entrance. She twisted the doorknob and shoved, but the door refused to budge.
Locked. It figures. I’m running late and Mrs. Walker’s probably out front.
Not hopeful, Tess knocked on the door and waited. The morning rain had slackened to a light drizzle, but she was shivering by the time the old librarian came to let her in. The sweet woman was the epitome of a lifelong librarian; old and wearing spectacles. Tess guessed her age at mid-seventies to early eighties. The old woman was spry and energetic for her age.
Fire Defender Page 1
