Dreaming in the Dark_Chains of the Fallen Volume 1

by James E. Wisher

  “Of course, anyone even considered for such an important position would be thoroughly questioned. I believe His Majesty is referring more to his comfort level with whoever he chose. For the moment, I’m handling the job and the interim commander of the Citadel is taking care of training. No need to rush the decision. This is the sort of thing you want to get right the first time.”

  “If there’s nothing else, I should get going.”

  “No, that’s all,” the archmage said. “Good luck.”

  “Thanks.” Jen bowed and took her leave. The guys would be happy for a mission even if it was another murderer hunt.

  She left the castle and jogged to the Iron Horse Inn. Her team preferred staying there rather than in the overcrowded barracks and she didn’t blame them. They’d been using their enhanced physical abilities to help with the rebuilding which earned, them in particular and warlords in general, a lot of goodwill with the citizens.

  It was important work. With their help, things went two to three times as fast as normal. As warriors, her men considered it a waste of their talents, but they did their best just the same.

  With the work mostly done, they’d been lounging around on leave for the last three days. Well, it was time to get back to work.

  Jen adjusted her sword and pushed through the swinging door into the inn’s common room. Her eyes adapted at once to the dim interior and she soon spotted her second, Edward Mark, sitting at a corner booth, a mug in one hand and his maul leaning next to him. He was hard to miss at nearer seven feet than six. Edward kept a grim watch over the room and appeared determined not to have fun.

  He noticed her a moment after she entered and sprang to his feet. Talon Wrath seemed to appear out of the shadows beside her. Jen hadn’t detected him even with her enhanced hearing. She didn’t know how the man did it, but he had a gift. It was a good thing he was on their side.

  Rhys heaved himself up out of a booth and shrugged his heavy steel shield onto his back before slinging his mace through the loop on his belt. Her father had assigned the veteran to keep an eye on her and even after she proved herself he agreed to stay on which pleased her. He was a steady presence and had a thorough understanding of healing, both extremely useful in their line of work.

  That only left the team’s puppy, Alec Wright. Alec was Damien’s age, eager to please and as lethal with a war staff as anyone Jen had ever met.

  “Kid’s upstairs,” Edward said as though reading her thoughts. “Do we have an assignment?”

  “We do, go get him.”

  Edward didn’t even take a step before a skinny, blond boy with a dusting of freckles across his nose came bounding down the stairs, pack in one hand and staff in the other. Any moment Jen expected him to come tumbling off his feet, but he never so much as stumbled.

  “I’m coming, Commander, I’m coming. I would have been waiting, but I didn’t know we were on alert.”

  “Warlords are always on alert,” Talon said. “So what’s the mission?”

  “Not here.” Jen led them out of the inn.

  “Should I saddle the horses?” Alec asked.

  “No, it’s only sixty miles.” Jen grinned. “I figured we’d run.”

  Five minutes later they were bounding down the trade route at half warlord speed, a pace they could maintain for days and that would have them at the Inn Between before sunset.

  “They killed everyone except the stable boy?” Edward asked.

  Jen had already told them everything she knew, but her second seemed to want more. “So the archmage said. I suspect we’ll find out more when we arrive.”

  “It doesn’t make sense,” Edward said. “Why would anyone want to murder the guests at an inn? I mean, it wasn’t the sort of place wealthy people stayed. They couldn’t have gotten enough to make it worth all those lives.”

  Jen had met people who killed for the sheer joy of it. Perhaps this was something like that. “Whatever the reason, our job is to find out who did it and bring them to justice.”

  “Is the king looking for a trial or the quieter sort of justice?” Talon asked.

  “He didn’t specify, so I assume it’s up to us.”

  “Quiet it is.” Talon didn’t smile, but Jen could sense his eagerness all the same. She shared it. Few things angered her more than the mindless killing of innocent people. Whoever did this would get what they deserved.

  Chapter Six

  Jen and her squad made good time, reaching the Inn Between with an hour of sunlight remaining. The fence’s gate was closed and the inn dark and silent. No guests waited for the place to open, to Jen’s considerable relief. She happily killed the kingdom’s enemies, but she lacked skill when it came to dealing with people nonviolently. Perhaps they saw the closed gate and took the hint. If so, she owed the stable boy a word of thanks.

  The inn itself was a big, two-story log cabin featuring a wraparound porch for people to sit and enjoy a pipe on a clear night. They hopped the fence and marched to the front door. Jen enhanced her hearing, but only the drone of insects filled the air. She’d walked enough battlefields to recognize that sound.

  No sense putting it off. She held her breath and pushed the door open. The common room looked like a madman’s fever dream. Bodies covered the floor, furniture lay in broken shards, and flies crawled over everything. It was more horrible than she expected and her expectations had been pretty low.

  “Heaven’s mercy,” Alec said. “It’s worse than the cultists’ base we found last year. I thought nothing could top that.”

  “The world is full of surprises,” Rhys said. “Each generally less pleasant than the one before.”

  “Enough talk.” Jen wanted to get this done and get after those responsible. “Talon, check the perimeter. Rhys and Alec, upstairs. Edward, you’re with me.”

  The team dispersed. Everyone knew what to do so Jen concentrated on her area. A cursory glance revealed they’d all been killed by edged weapons. Weapons wielded by someone with tremendous strength, perhaps even warlord strength.

  As she scanned the bodies, a patch of blue drew her gaze. She leapt over the corpses and landed beside a dead ogre. It still had its killer’s sword lodged in its chest. She frowned. The ogre’s sword stuck out from the breast of the human that ended its life.

  Apparently they struck simultaneously. From the way the bodies lay they hadn’t fought. How did they kill each other at the same moment yet not even exchange blows? It made no sense.

  Jen turned her attention to the body lying between them. He wore a blue guardsman’s uniform and from the gray in his beard he’d been serving the kingdom for years. A few inches from his hand rested a standard-issue kingdom arming sword, its blade unbloodied.

  Clearly the guardsman hadn’t landed a blow. Judging from the size of the wound, it was the ogre that ran him through. She bent over and closed his eyes. They’d have to bring the body back for identification and to notify his family. Thank heaven his commanding officer had to perform that awful duty.

  “Commander?” She looked up at Rhys who stood at the second-floor railing. “Nothing but bodies up here.”

  “How big are the wounds?”

  “Big. I haven’t seen wounds like these since the last northern incursion.”

  She nodded. The ogre had handled the upstairs. But did he handle the downstairs as well? She grimaced. They would have to sort out the bodies and see if the injuries shed any light on what happened. Jen hated this kind of thing.

  “Edward, we need to get the bodies sorted. I want to know if the ogre did all this, or if he had help.”

  “Understood.” Edward didn’t offer a word of complaint as he started dragging corpses out of the heap.

  Jen reached for a leg, but before she could grab it the door creaked and Talon appeared in the entrance. She left Edward to his task and crossed over to her scout.

  “Tell me.”

  He shook his head. “No one left but the stable boy. I found ogre tracks. Definitely a berserker, it was cov
ering ten yards at a stride. Whatever did this never left the inn.”

  “Yeah, I found the ogre dead inside. Come in and take a look. It feels off. The ogre was killed, but there’s no sign of a fight. And if it was a berserker—”

  “It was. There’s no doubt in my mind.”

  “Okay, it was a berserker. We’ve fought those monsters. No way should it have gone down easy, yet it was taken out with a single thrust to the heart.”

  “By who?” Talon asked. “One of ours?”

  “Not unless he was out of uniform.” Jen led him over to where the ogre and his killer still lay.

  Talon crouched and pushed the dead man’s head off to one side. Jen hadn’t given him much of a look. She’d been too focused on the ogre. Now that she did, she saw he clearly wasn’t from around here. The deep bronze skin and dark hair marked him as a southerner, maybe even a bandit out of the badlands.

  Edward joined them, taking a break from his gruesome task. “I’ve found three killed by a far smaller blade. The ogre couldn’t have killed everyone.”

  Jen ripped the southerner’s sword from the ogre’s chest and took it over to the three bodies with smaller wounds. The blade slid into the first body like it was a sheath. Her jaw clenched, and she slammed the sword hard enough to bury the tip six inches into the heavy plank flooring.

  A human and an ogre murdered an inn full of people before killing each other with single, precise strikes. She’d never encountered anything so insane and after last year that was saying something.

  What was she supposed to do now? The killers were still here and already dead. No one remained to punish for this atrocity or even to explain what had happened and why. Hopefully, the archmage could shed some light on the situation once they showed her the bodies.

  Chapter Seven

  A chill ran down Marie-Bell’s back as she stared at the ruins of her former home. Not that you could tell that the mountain of rubble had once been a fortress that housed hundreds of paladins. When Damien blasted the area, he’d done a thorough job, erasing all signs that this had ever been a pass much less a fortification.

  Not that she blamed him. With the blue crystal demons about to overrun their position, there had been no other choice. Still, it pained her to see the results. She missed the chapel the most. She’d never seen a more beautiful room.

  A bitter breeze from the Haunted Lands carried a hint of rot and sent her blond hair dancing around her face. The undead and demons were still out there, even if most of them couldn’t get through the rock pile. Marie-Bell made a point of patrolling this stretch of the border on a regular basis. It made her feel like hanging around was a little less of a waste of time.

  She kicked a stone and sent it tumbling aside. Off and on for six months she’d been visiting the heap of rubble in hopes of finding any surviving relics, or so she told herself. In her heart she knew that was nonsense. Nothing survived the blast that struck this place. No, her imaginary search served as an excuse to avoid letting go of the past. She had to find some way to move on before she drove herself crazy.

  Maybe it would be best if she joined one of the other orders, at least for a little while. Some sort of structure to her days might take her mind off what she’d lost.

  Marie-Bell sensed an approaching soul force a moment before a red-robed sorcerer descended from the sky. The redhead was the most beautiful woman Marie-Bell had ever seen. Only the angry crinkles around her eyes spoiled her perfect appearance.

  “I heard rumors of a blond ghost haunting the fortress ruins,” the sorcerer said. “Figured it was you. Been a while.”

  Marie-Bell forced a smile. “Imogen. Are you alone?”

  Bright red lips thinned. “Yeah, for the moment. Damien and I decided to go our separate ways. The archmage sent me out here to patrol the border. I blasted a flock of blood ravens a couple hundred miles north of here, but nothing bigger. What about you?”

  “I’m stuck in the past.”

  Marie-Bell’s body stiffened, and she leaned against her hammer to keep from falling over. White light filled her vision.

  Imogen said something, but she couldn’t hear it.

  Marie-Bell’s heart raced and for a moment she feared something terrible had happened. A figure appeared out of the light and she calmed at once. Her handsome partner flew towards her on white wings.

  The angel hadn’t visited her like this since their first meeting in the chapel so long ago. Usually he sent her feelings or the faintest of nudges if he contacted her at all. Her course remained hers to choose for the most part. If the angel was visiting her directly, something must have happened. Something bad.

  Her vision cleared, giving her a clear look at her partner. He hadn’t changed a bit since their first meeting. His white robe gleamed in the light while dove wings flapped gently, holding him in place before her. Dimples formed when he smiled.

  “I have watched you in peace and war,” the angel said. “In all ways you have acted with honor. I could not be more pleased with my choice for paladin.”

  Marie-Bell’s cheeks burned. “Thank you. I tried my best.”

  His beautiful smile faded. “Once more I must ask a great effort from you. I risk the wrath of the archangels by coming to you, but I fear what may happen if I fail to act. A great danger is on the horizon. Some amongst us argue that it may not arrive, but I see no hope. If I am wrong, I will accept full responsibility for my rash act. I cannot force you to accept this quest, for the risks are vast, so I must ask if you will trust me.”

  “Of course I will.” This was what she’d been waiting for, Marie-Bell had no doubts. “What would you have me do?”

  He beamed. “The two great artifacts of your order must be recovered from the Haunted Lands. The armor fell far to the north, near the lair of the dead warlock Connor Blackman. The sword rests with the remains of your order’s greatest hero in the palace of the mad king at the center of the Haunted Lands.”

  “What about demons, guards, or traps?” Marie-Bell asked. Everything that lived in the Haunted Lands hated paladins. She risked death with every step in the evil place.

  “Darkness shrouds the lands beyond the mountains from my sight so I can offer you little council. Much has happened between now and when the sword and armor were lost. The artifacts may not even be where I last sensed them. You must use your own judgement in completing the quest.”

  The enormity of the task settled over her like a suffocating shroud. “Can you give me any advice?”

  “Trust your instincts. The artifacts will resonate with the holy power within you. When you get close, you will know. Extend your awareness to find the lights in the darkness, but be careful. Every time you call on your powers it will be like a torch in a cave. Everything in the darkness will see it and wish to snuff it out.”

  He pulled back, returning to his own realm.

  “Wait! I have more questions.”

  “I dare not tarry longer. My absence must not be noticed. Best of luck, my paladin.”

  And he was gone. Marie-Bell blinked and found herself staring into the bloodshot eyes of a worried Imogen.

  “Are you back?” Imogen asked.

  “Yes, I’m okay.”

  “Where did you go?”

  “My partner called me to a space between Heaven and the mortal plane. He gave me a quest.” Marie-Bell hefted her hammer and turned north. “I must go.”

  “Wait. Go where?” Imogen asked.

  “The Haunted Lands. This is the task I’ve been waiting for.”

  “Are you crazy? There’s nothing but demons, undead, and corruption out there. Just patrolling the border leaves me with a headache every night.”

  “It is truly horrible. Nevertheless, I must go. My angel has tasked me to recover a pair of the order’s lost artifacts: the armor worn by my former commander and a sword carried into the Haunted Lands by one of the greatest paladins in history centuries ago.”

  “You’re not going alone,” Imogen said. “If you’re mad
enough to go out there, I’m coming with you. If nothing else I won’t be bored.”

  “No, though you may be dead.”

  Chapter Eight

  Damien removed the last pannier from the mule’s harness and patted it on the flank. The aromatic cedar sawdust covered the worst of the smell from the inn’s small stable. They’d landed twenty minutes ago nearly a mile up the road. Dorius insisted he didn’t want to advertise that Damien was a sorcerer. The why seemed a little vague, but Damien didn’t care enough to argue.

  He’d been surprised at how well the mule adapted to flying and how poorly the professor handled it. While he hadn’t gotten sick, Dorius’s face had taken on a distinctly green tint. Some people took to flying and some didn’t. Damien even knew a few sorcerers that refused to fly. He didn’t understand it, but then he didn’t have to.

  With the mule secured in its stall, Damien conjured a two-wheeled cart around the panniers and pretended to pull it out of the stable. The inn was a typical roadside affair that you’d find anywhere in the kingdom. Half-rotted clapboard siding clung to the exterior of the building. The place needed some serious maintenance. Damien grimaced. His time working in the capital had him thinking like a carpenter.

  The professor had gone in to talk to the innkeeper and make sure no one had come asking about him. Dorius had a paranoid streak a mile wide. He seemed certain someone planned to show up, unseal the door, and steal his glory. Exactly what glory he expected to find exploring an underground city Damien didn’t know. He doubted Dorius knew either, but that didn’t affect his obsession.

  Five minutes after Damien finished with the mule, Dorius emerged from the inn and trotted down the front steps. “We’re in the clear. No strangers have been snooping around. Are we ready?”

  “Yeah, all set. Is the cart okay?”

  Dorius looked the construct over. “Brilliant actually. Well done.”