Dawn Of Darkness
Page 1
CONTENTS
Dedication
Legal
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Author Notes - Amy Hopkins
Author Notes - Michael Anderle
Social Links
Books by Amy Hopkins
Books by Michael Anderle
DEDICATION
To my husband, whose expression every time I talk about writing
inspired every look of male confusion in this book.
With thanks to all the coffee producers in the world. Without you, this
book would not have happened.
— Amy
To Family, Friends and
Those Who Love
To Read.
May We All Enjoy Grace
To Live The Life We Are
Called.
—Michael
Dawn of Darkness Team
JIT Beta Readers
Kelly ODonnell
Kimberly Boyer
Keith Verret
Joshua Ahles
Paul Westman
Tim Bischoff
Keith Verret
If I missed anyone, please let me know!
Editor
Candy Crum
DAWN OF DARKNESS (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.
This book Copyright © 2017 Amy Hopkins, Michael T. Anderle, CM Raymond, LE Barbant
Cover by Andrew Dobell, www.creativeedgestudios.co.uk
Cover copyright © LMBPN Publishing
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 info@kurtherianbooks.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, October 2017
The Kurtherian Gambit (and what happens within / characters / situations / worlds) are copyright © 2017 by Michael T. Anderle.
CHAPTER ONE
Cold air tickled Julianne’s arm, causing her to shiver. It’s cold tonight, she thought sleepily as she pulled the blanket up under her chin. Outside, an owl’s call floated across the dark sky just before a scream shattered the still night.
Julianne bolted out of bed, stumbling into the room next door. On one of the cots, a man sat, his eyes flickering back and forth as he sucked in deep, desperate breaths. He screamed again, and Julianne grabbed his shoulders.
“Harlon. Harlon!” she called out.
Her words caught his attention, but didn’t break through. He turned, then lurched forward, toppling her over and pinning Julianne to the floor. He screamed again.
“HARLON!” Julianne yanked herself free and slapped the man across the face, desperate to wake him.
His scream was abruptly cut off, and he sank to the floor, his breathing quickly evening out to a steady pace. His large frame looked pitiful on the floor, dark hair matted down and face covered in sweat—nothing like the vibrant man Julianne had eaten dinner with earlier that evening.
The slap had jerked him from his nightmare, but hadn’t woken him. He was probably so exhausted from the string of bad dreams that it would take more than a quick sting to bring him to wakefulness.
“Come on, you big lug.” Julianne squatted down and lifted Harlon’s upper body, hoisting him up to her shoulders. Then, she staggered over to his bed. She leaned forward to let him down, but his weight toppled her over, and she landed on the mattress, the still unconscious man a dead weight on top.
“Dammit, Jules. I turn my back for five minutes and you’re in bed with another man.” Marcus stood at the door, peering in through the darkness.
“Fuck you.” Julianne was ready to tear someone’s eyes out after weeks of interrupted sleep and episodes like this one. “He’s all yours tomorrow night. I don’t care if I have to go spend the night in a cave.”
“And I hope you had a lovely sleep, too, beautiful. He didn’t hurt you, did he?” Marcus shoved Harlon to one side then took Julianne’s hand and hoisted her up.
She shook her head. “No, he just scared the shit out of me and made sure that, yet again, I’m going to start another day in a foul mood. Bitch’s honor, I’d kill for a full night’s sleep.”
“If he wakes again, I'll take him.” Marcus wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close, pressing his lips to her forehead. “I'll make up an extra bed in the barn. It's warm enough out there that you'll be comfortable, and if you can put up with Garrett’s snoring, you'll get a better night's sleep.”
Julianne nodded, accepting his logic. Sleeping out with the rearick, the hired guards from their homeland, would at least stop her heart from jumping every time Harlon rolled over. “Thanks.” She gave Marcus a gentle shove and sent him back to bed.
Julianne scowled at Harlon. She knew it wasn’t his fault—it was a side-effect of the mind control he’d been under. When released from the spell, he and a small percentage of the other affected villagers had suffered side effects, things like raging migraines and night terrors.
Harlon was Annie's son, and Julianne felt she owed it to the old woman to help as much as she could. After defeating the New Dawn, Annie had insisted on putting them up, giving them a place to stay.
This was the sixth night in a row that Harlon had woken screaming. It didn’t seem to be getting any better. Again and again, Julianne and everyone else in the small, crowded cottage was pulled from their slumber during the night by the man’s screams. Her heart burned with sympathy, but even a mystic as powerful as Julianne had her limits.
Julianne glanced out the tiny window. The moon was almost full and hung low in the sky, painting white ripples on the barren field outside. It would need to be planted soon, before they missed the season. She chewed her lip as the thought of what lay ahead weighed on her mind.
Julianne rolled her shoulders and made to leave, but paused. She looked back, then tucked a corner of Harlon’s blanket under his chin. After all, it was cold tonight.
C
HAPTER TWO
Annie pursed her lips as she laid the table for breakfast. Hands on hips, she stepped back to admire the pristine gingham tablecloth, the neatly placed condiments and the pretty flowers poking out of a little vase in the middle.
“Best enjoy it while it’s clean,” she mumbled. “Because it won’t be like it for long.”
Harlon shuffled in, his dirty blonde hair matted on one side. “Morning, Ma.”
“Pick your feet up, son, and stop dragging your ass about like it weighs too much. I know you're tired, but that's no excuse to walk like a worm-riddled dog.” She softened her words with a smile and tipped her head towards the kitchen. “Bring out the hot food, will you?”
She stood by the table, mistress of her domain, and braced for the influx of people.
“Aye, what a bonnie sight ye are this mornin’, Annie!” Garrett gave her a cheeky grin as he stomped straight past her, into the kitchen where he loaded his arms full of plates.
“Don't you drop those, rearick,” Annie admonished. The stocky rearick was the shortest man she had ever seen, but he was strong as an ox. An ox in a china shop, she thought to herself wryly.
“Don’t worry yerself, Annie.” Bette, as squarely built and heavy footed as Garrett, went to help him. Between them, the two rearick managed to bring out all the food, Harlon trailing behind with a pitcher of milk. “Ye know I'd break his balls if he broke anything.”
“You'd have to find them first!”
Annie whirled, startled by the new voice. Marcus winced. “Sorry. Didn't mean to make you jump, Annie.” Now this man, he was no rearick. Tall and good looking, Annie could see why Julianne had set her eye on him. Why, if Annie were a little younger herself…
Francis poked his head out from behind Marcus. Annie hadn’t noticed him follow the strapping young guard in. “Ma? You ok there?”
Annie blushed, but before she could answer, Marcus slid past with a wink. “I’d say your ma is mighty fine.”
Annie raised an eyebrow. “I don't believe you mean that for a moment, you rapscallion.” She eyed him as he sidled towards a seat and, as he got a bit closer, flicked his ass with her tea towel. She hid a smile when he yelped. “Wash first. You know the rules.”
The rearick had been up since well before dawn, tending the cattle and horses. She had heard them clean up earlier, but both obliged her by lifting their spotless hands for inspection. She nodded. Her house might be full, but she still ran it, damned if she didn't.
“Good morning, Annie.” As Julianne stepped out, a giant yawn cracked her jaw. She shrugged an apology as she slid into one of the chairs at the table.
“Morning, Julianne.” Annie gave her a nod. “I've some fresh honey for the bread. I know how you like it.”
Julianne's face softened into a smile. “You shouldn't have… but I'm glad you did. Thanks, Annie.”
Danil and Bastian came down last, the two mystics already in their white robes. Danil’s eyes, white as snow, no longer gave Annie the creeps. He, along with his companions, had more than proved themselves different from the mystics who had ravaged their little town.
Once they were all at the table, Annie glanced at each face at her table. The two rearick, Bette swatting Garrett’s hand as he reached for a second sausage. Marcus, who was carefully lifting some sauerkraut onto Julianne’s plate as she gave him a tired smile. Bastian, his head close to Danil’s as they discussed their plans for the day as they went about trying to repair the village. Finally, her sons. Francis and Harlon sat quietly, eyes on the table.
“Here, Francis. Throw me one of them bread rolls, will ye?” Garrett called.
“Don’t ye dare, lad,” Bette interjected. “Ye’ll make a right mess doin’ that, and I know what yer mother will do to the lot of us if yer do.”
The corner of Francis’s mouth turned up, and he gave Annie a sideways glance. She pretended not to see.
Eyes twinkling, Francis lobbed the bread roll. If it had been anyone else, Annie would have called it bad luck brought on by bad manners. Francis, though, was a crack shot. If that bread roll landed straight in Garrett’s milk, it was because he meant it to.
Garrett squealed like a neutered pig and jumped up, patting his beard and shaking the warm drink all over the table.
“Watch it, yer bloody oaf,” Bette yelled. “I dinna want to wear yer damned drink!”
“It’s not my fault!” Garrett said with a wounded look. “He’s the wanker what threw it!”
Francis was silent, face in hands and shoulder shaking uncontrollably. Annie placed her hands on the table ready to leap to her feet, thinking it was some kind of seizure, until he gasped in a breath and erupted into laughter.
Garrett pegged a mushroom at Francis, hitting Harlon in the cheek by mistake. The big man barely reacted, digging his spoon into his porridge for another bite. A moment later, that ‘bite’ was stuck to Marcus’s shirt.
“Oh, you’re on,” Marcus said.
Julianne scooted her chair back in alarm. “Don’t!” she yelped. “That’ll go ev—”
Too late. Marcus flicked his cup of milk at Harlon and the warm liquid showered everyone.
“Bitch help me,” Danil moaned. “I know you’re in love, Marcus, but spraying your milk all over the table is a bit much!”
“Danil!” Julianne snapped, her face bright red.
Annie chortled. That girl was cool as a cucumber in the face of battle. She didn’t think she had ever seen Julianne rattled like that.
Danil ducked the first chunk of bread lobbed at his head, but then Julianne’s eyes misted over to match his.
“What? No fair, blocking me is against—” his words were swallowed as Julianne darted up from the table and dumped a whole bowl of porridge on Danil’s head.
By now, bits of food were flying across the table at lightning speed, and the tablecloth was more ‘shades of sausage and gravy’ than the red gingham it had been moments before.
Annie sat back, suspiciously free of the debris that whizzed past. When a bit of gravy splashed in front of her, everyone froze. Annie eyed them.
“As long as you all clean up after yourselves, I didn’t see a damn thing.” Picking up her plate, she stood and calmly walked out of the dining room.
As she placed it in the sink and ran the water over it, she wondered if, despite the trials facing them all, her house had ever been so full of happiness.
CHAPTER THREE
“No, stop trying so hard. It'll come to you, you just have to let it. Tessa, you look exhausted. Why don't you take a break?” Danil kept his voice even, relying on his many years of meditation to keep from losing his cool.
The three women in his class bowed politely, then left the room quickly. This was only their fourth lesson, but Danil was starting to feel the pressure. This wasn't the mystic Temple, where students had all the time they needed to hone their skills.
It was no more than a tiny, abandoned cottage, repurposed as a small magic school where the village inhabitants came for weekly lessons on how to shield, and where those with a talent for mental magic could learn to hone their skills.
If the New Dawn returned, the simple shields now known by most of the residents wouldn't be enough to stop them being brainwashed and enslaved again, so Danil pushed them hard.
The teachings of Ezekiel, the Founder who had taught the very first magic in the land, said that everyone possessed a spark of magic. Not everyone could harness it, though, and even those who could had no guarantee of being any good at it.
This meant that much of his efforts would be wasted trying to teach those with no skill, or who would never progress enough to shield with any degree of usefulness. Still, every person he could help was one that might be saved if the New Dawn launched another attack.
That is, if they could convince the villagers that what they were doing was important. So far, none had refused to come, but the effort they were putting in was more to humor the mystics than because they saw the importance of it.
“Well, that's stating the obvious,” Danil snorted in return. “They're trying, I know that, but they're trying too damned hard.”
“You don't think that has anything to do with the fact that they're shitting their pants waiting for another attack, and exhausted from trying to run the farms and look after their loved ones?” Bastian kept his face bland, turning so he didn't have to look Danil quite in the eye while he asked.
Danil might be blind, but it didn't make him any less intimidating when he was mad as a cut snake. It didn't help that he was Bastian’s superior.
“What did you say, Bastian?” Danil asked.
Confused, Bastian shook his head. “I didn’t say anything.”
“How kind of you to offer!” Danil exclaimed, a grin spreading over his face.
“Offer? I didn't—”
“Oh? I could have sworn you just offered to take the next class, show off that sage wisdom a bit. Bloody good idea, my friend. I'll be down at the watering hole if you need me, eh?” Danil clapped Bastian on the shoulder and walked off, ignoring Bastian’s curses. “Don't let anything interesting happen while I'm gone!" he shouted over his shoulder.
“Sly bastard,” Bastian grumbled to himself when Danil was gone. “I can't believe I fell for that.” He set about tidying the room, trying to ignore the butterflies in his stomach. He hadn't taught a class before—hell, he was only a student himself a few short months ago.
“Hello? Master Danil?” Bastian looked up to see Lilly at the door.
The little nature magician was barely nine, but three months spent hiding in the city streets as she watched her town fall apart had aged her beyond her years.