Blood and Chaos: The Collected Low Lying Lands Saga (The Low Lying Lands Saga)

by Bob Williams

  One of the four from the detail took to the front as they arrived to greet him.

  “Malcolm of the Protectorate Guard!” the squad leader said briskly. “You are wanted for crossing and interfering, among numerous other charges. You will come with us immediately for holding until the council can see you for judgment.”

  “I understand. I am guilty of charges weighed against me and I will face my crimes head on, but right now I must see the council regarding an urgent matter.”

  “You are in no position to make demands, Breaker!” said the squad leader, uttering one of the worst names to be saddled with upon the Higher Grounds. A million years of shame and you still may never recover from the moniker.

  Malcolm knew that to be called a breaker meant he had forsaken all of the gifts, privileges—and most importantly the responsibilities—the Superior had offered him as a member of the Higher Grounds, and acted to benefit only himself. To act only to the benefit of himself meant breaking the agreement he made to the Superior when he entered the Higher Grounds. It was grounds for expulsion to the Barren Lands, eternal confinement, or death.

  “What is your name, Squad Leader?”

  “I am Xavier.”

  “Xavier. An honorable name. I beg of you. Take me straight to the council. There is no time to waste. I can guarantee you if you alert them that I am here, they will most assuredly want to see me, if only to deliver swift judgment, and I’m off to confinement or death. How does doing this affect you in the least? Please. You don’t know me, and I don’t know you, but I promise you what I have to tell the council is time sensitive and extremely important. And I promise you I will face the penalty of my crimes. Please.”

  Malcolm could see the internal struggle playing out across Xavier’s face. He didn’t deserve to have this kind of situation or decision fall in his lap. He was just trying to do his job and do it well.

  Like I used to, thought Malcolm.

  After what felt like an eternity, Xavier said, “You will allow your hands to be bound and you will do exactly as instructed the entire time. No games, Breaker; your reputation precedes you.”

  “Understood. Please make haste to the council chambers.”

  Malcolm was about to add another charge to his long list of offenses.

  The quartet travelled uninhibited through the Higher Grounds and arrived at the Cornerstone, the building which housed the Protectorate council chambers. Malcolm had gone over the plan in his head a thousand times, yet still felt a pang of regret that he’d garnered the trust of Xavier only to now disable him and his men.

  And nerves. He felt nervous. He may not be able to convince the council of the plan. And then what? I go straight to confinement and Prescott walks right into a slaughter. This has to work.

  Xavier, who initially was unsure about this situation, was settling into the role of Malcolm’s captor. He felt confident and then ... curious.

  “What is it that you truly hope to accomplish before the council, Breaker?” he asked as they entered the Cornerstone and began the long walk through several corridors to the council chambers.

  “It is of no concern to you, Guardsman,” said Malcolm. “This ... situation is well over your head.”

  Xavier struck Malcolm with a closed fist across the face. “You’d do well not to disrespect me like that again, Breaker! I alone hold your fate in my hands. I could change course right now and take you straight to confinement. Or better yet, kill you with my bare hands and inform the council you were caught sneaking back into the Higher Grounds and resisted rather than coming with us.”

  Malcolm brought his manacled wrists to the corner of his mouth and felt the blood upon his finger.

  “Very well, Xavier of the Protectorate Guard. I will tell you all.”

  One guard walked in front of Malcolm and Xavier, and another trailed as they walked down the corridor.

  “You are aware, of course, of what’s happened upon the Low Lying Lands?” asked Malcolm.

  “Yes, of course. The low lyers call it the Descent.”

  “That’s correct. It’s a complete and utter disaster down there. The old rules no longer apply. Chaos has broken through from the Neverrealm and polluted their world. We cannot just observe and tinker from on high anymore. The low lyers need our help. It’s a desperate time. And unfortunately, decisions get made and the ramifications are dealt with after the fact.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “This.” He easily shed the manacles and the metal bits fell the ground. Malcolm then violently thrust an elbow that crushed the jaw of Xavier and dropped him, unconscious, to the floor. Another guard turned immediately to face Malcolm while the guard from behind struggled to draw his sword.

  To the facing combatant, Malcolm landed a left hook followed by a right hook, and then landed a front kick to his gut that had the soldier doubling over in pain. This was followed by a devastating uppercut that buckled his knees, and the angel crumpled to the ground, also out cold.

  All of this occurred in a matter of seconds. The final soldier was finally able to draw his weapon from the scabbard at his side. Malcolm met his eyes.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  The soldier raised the sword and charged. Malcolm caught the blade in his bare hand and closed his grip. After a short and uncontested struggle, Malcolm ripped the weapon from the hand of the guardsman and struck him across the temple with the handcrafted gold hilt.

  “I am truly sorry, but time is of the essence.”

  ***

  Within the council chamber, the senior members of the Protectorate Guard where deep in discussion with the newly named warrior Kahlen when the heavy oak doors splintered off their hinges and slammed to the floor with a near-deafening crash.

  In walked Malcolm. The most wanted fugitive in all the Higher Grounds.

  Everyone in the room dove to the marble floor to avoid flying splinters and chunks of wood and metal. As each member of the senior council began to rise slowly, Malcolm saw a young female guard assisting Meredith to her feet. He watched as the young woman, who was easily in her midtwenties, dusted herself off and then turned to offer more aid to Meredith, who looked rather disheveled.

  Malcolm was transfixed. Who was this mysterious woman? What was she doing here in the senior council chamber? She was obviously coated in Frain’s armor, which was truly remarkable. Frain’s work is always exceptional.

  “MALCOLM!” raged David. “You must be completely insane to come here. And in this most reprehensible fashion! Guards!” David was as full of anger as Malcolm had ever seen. And he’d known him a very long time.

  In light of Nathan’s inability to continue as Commandant of the Protectorate Guard and leader of the senior council, David had been the unanimous choice to succeed, since Caster wasn’t remotely interested.

  “Everyone, I’m sorry for the grand entrance, but I knew the council would be meeting and I simply had to make sure I had your attention.”

  “Well,” said Caster with a wry smile, “you have it now. You are in a quite a lot of trouble, Malcolm. I must ask, why have come here? Why now?”

  “First, it is great to see you, Caster. I’ve missed our talks. David, Vincent, and Meredith, I’m humbled to be back in your presence. As a faithful and long-tenured member of the Protectorate, I have spent many hours in this very room, and also within the walls of the Cornerstone. Never has there been a time more important than this very hour.”

  David, who was still seething from the mere sight of Malcolm, stalked across the room and stood before him.

  “Malcolm. I could execute you here where you stand and be totally within my right. You’re a breaker. You arrogantly cast aside thousands of years of steadfast compliance with the Superior’s most important rule: Members of the Protectorate Guard will never follow their personal desires or pursue personal objectives in a way that will influence those who walk upon the Low Lying Lands.

  “Again, your arrogance, your unbelievable s
elfishness has led to this moment. You will be taken into custody and taken to confinement. There you will await trial for treason against the Higher Grounds. As much as it pains me, for you were once a great soldier, I can only surmise that your execution will follow shortly after.”

  “David! We don’t have time for this. I came here for a reason. Listen, all of you, please. What David says is true. My actions have been reckless, selfish, destructive, and deadly. I am the reason Shentaka murdered our fallen brethren who walked as low lyers. He does it to punish me.”

  “What you did, Malcolm, regarding Shentaka, it is unthinkable,” said David. “You took his soul and brought him here without his permission. It damaged him. It changed him. And there was nothing you were going to be able to do to help him. You were stubborn to try. In all honesty, he should have been put out of his misery.”

  “My goodness, David,” said Vincent. “He was a Point of Light.”

  “Malcolm robbed him of his light.”

  “Everything you say is true. But please hear me out. Prescott and his team have chosen to face Shen and have landed in Columbus—”

  “You’ve seen him, Prescott?” This was the young blonde soldier.

  “Yes. I left his side to come straight here. The first meeting between Shen and Prescott went very badly. We regrouped and came up with a plan of attack, but it relies heavily on what happens here.”

  “He’s my brother. We must help him. What do you require?”

  “Emily ... Emily Prescott!” Malcolm was astounded. “I am speechless.”

  “My name is Kahlen. I no longer recognize the person known as Emily Prescott.”

  Malcolm turned to Caster and said incredulously, “She is Protectorate? What are you thinking? And where is Nathan? I fully expected to accept his wrath, not yours, David.”

  It was Meredith who responded. “I believe I’ve heard you say something of this fashion before, dear boy, but desperate times call for desperate measures. As for Nathan, he consults the Knowledge, and it advised that Emily should join the fray. She has incentive to perform. As Nathan is no longer able to perform his duties, the Superior has retired him. David was named the new acting commandant. Are you caught up now, son? You have been gone, running amok, for quite some time.”

  Malcolm was overcome with emotion. Raw emotion. He was exhausted. The weight of it all was finally catching up with him like a smothering cocoon of grief and anger. Meredith approached and gave him a warm embrace.

  “You’re home now. It will be a long, unpleasant journey, but you will face it head on. And we will be there for you whenever you need us.”

  “Meredith, I do not want forgiveness. I want to atone for what I’ve done. Face it head on like you mentioned. And I have come to ask for your assistance.”

  “What do you need?” asked Kahlen.

  David interjected. “Excuse me, young Kahlen. That really isn’t your decision to make. Malcolm is in quite a lot trouble.”

  “Why don’t we listen to what he has to say before we drag him off to—what is it? Confinement?” said Kahlen with an air of annoyance in her voice.

  Oh, I like her already. Maybe they aren’t blood-related, but time well spent has definitely given her Prescott’s bravado. Malcolm thought this while he studied the look David gave Kahlen after her bold statement.

  “David, let’s hear him out,” Caster urged. “It’s not as though he can go anywhere. He has essentially turned himself in. What would it hurt to listen?”

  David studied the room. He knew exactly what Caster, Meredith, and Kahlen desired. He nodded toward the last remaining member. “Vincent?”

  “Desperate times, David. We should hear him out.”

  David thought to himself for a moment and released a heavy sigh. “Okay, Malcolm. What’s going on?”

  Malcolm explained that Prescott, Cole, Shields, and the dog Lexi, were at ground zero in Columbus. He told them they were greatly outnumbered, as Shentaka had accumulated what the low lyers called Freaks along his way across Ohio. Shen had lured Prescott and company into a display of his force the previous night, where he had desecrated the body of Protectorate trainee Jonathan Poplovich.

  “I was present in their domain last night as they licked their wounds from their encounter with Shentaka. The low lyer Michael Cole, a Point of Light, was healed of a devastating injury, but the group is mentally defeated. We must help them.

  “We had formulated a plan that involved Prescott’s attempting to lure Shentaka into a one-on-one fight for “all the marbles,” as Prescott said. Cole and Shields, with the weaponry they had, were going to set up and try to take on as many of the enemy as possible regardless of the outcome—”

  “Wait,” said Kahlen. “That’s a bullshit plan. They’re all going to die.”

  “Kahlen, dear. Please understand—”

  “Malcolm, what do you need?” Kahlen repeated.

  “I need the Protectorate Guard to have the back of the man who fights for the preservation of the Low Lying Lands. I need numbers. Soldiers. A hundred, at least. And I need them now!”

  “David,” said Kahlen, “there isn’t much time. My brother needs our help. Malcolm was there. He knows the battle zone. He’s taken the temperature of the situation and we are losing before the battle even starts. The Knowledge has sent me to fight. I need a hundred guardsmen and I need Malcolm. If he survives, you can have your trial.”

  “Kahlen, wait,” said Malcolm. “I haven’t divulged to you all the new plan. The one your brother doesn’t know about.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Simple. I plan to give myself over to Shentaka.”

  ***

  For the last hour, I’ve been tied to a bar stool in the main barroom of the Seventh Son. My eyes are still struggling to keep focus, most likely resulting from the crack that Dr. Fuck-Knuckles Woolever gave me with his pea shooter. I didn’t expect that kind a wallop coming from a laser-pointing, periodic-table-loving, golf-playing asshat. He got me good. In more ways than one.

  Sitting here, though, gives me time to count all the ways I am fucked. What the Hell did he have planned for that gallows? Well, you know what he has planned, dipshit. But who? Me? Malcolm? All of us. Yeah. Probably all of us.

  The loud, grating ding of the front door entry bell yanks me out of Happy Thought Land and brings me back to reality. I hear Shen’s confident stride pounding down the hallway and shifty steps pulling up the rear. I crane my neck to see Shen and his sidekick Rebecca (AKA Tank Girl) walking gleefully into the room.

  “Great news, Mr. Prescott!” says Shen.

  “Don’t call me that,” I growl. Goddamn, my head really hurts.

  “Ha! I told you, Master. You owe me twenty bucks,” exclaims Rebecca. Shen gives her a look like he is about to slap the shit out of her, but then just ignores her.

  “My special project is now complete. Would you like to see it work? It should have a test run before the real show begins later. What do you say? Come on, let’s go. Cut the rope, Rebecca, and let’s go outside.”

  “If you untie me, I’m going to kill you, Shen,” I say in a totally unconvincing manner.

  “Don’t be so dramatic.” He laughs. “Now please, follow me outside. There really is something amazing Rebecca and I need to show you.”

  Rebecca the Tank Girl produces a very scary blade from thin air and cuts my ropes. This bitch is a fucking psycho. I just might need to knock her ass off first before I deal with Shen. I don’t want her crazy ass anywhere but where I can see it. And if that means dead, so be it.

  I step down from the bar stool and have to grasp for the bar slab to prevent myself from going down.

  I just might need to fuck up Dr. Shitbag Woolever, too, for good measure. I’m getting a bit worried that my head still isn’t right since I got dinged. I can’t be going into this brawl while sifting my way through the fog.

  “Okay there, Mr. Sexypants? What’s the deal? Not enough starch in the spaghetti legs?” Rebecca
is laughing at me. I stare at her, but the image won’t clean up. Dammit! I just peer at the blurry image, and I can just make out that she was walking towards me, but fuck if I can do anything about it. Next thing I know, I feel a scalding hot sting as a perfectly placed, open-handed slap lands right across my face.

  No shit, my eyes water a little. I’m not crying, but what I notice right away is that blurry Tank Girl clears right up. I mean crystal clear. I go to drill her right in the face but my body screams at me, “No, I can’t do that! I’ve been tied up for too long. Can you do a few stretches first? Like the one where you grab your wrist and bend side to side?” I literally can’t throw a punch.

  “That’s what I thought, bitch,” says Rebecca as she turns and shimmies to catch up with Shen. I follow because I don’t know what else to do. I am on an island here at the Seventh Son. By now Lexi has hopefully woken Shields and Cole, and they will be along shortly.

  I follow Shen and Rebecca down the hall, out the dinging door and into to the parking lot facing North Fourth. The two hundred Freaks from Shen’s scalping of Team Prescott have disappeared, and there are only about ten left. I suppose they are putting the finishing touches on the gallows. I mean, it looks finished to me.

  Standing innocently enough in front of the profound wooden structure is Curt Woolever. Alias Doctor Shitbag. Also known as Dr. Fuck-Knuckles. I spy him taking in the gallows with something akin to wonder. He is in awe of it. Like a fat man in front of an all-you-can-eat buffet.

  “Okay. What’s the big fucking deal, Shen? You had your cronies build the gallows. Gonna do your own version of Hang ‘Em High? Well, let me be the first to tell you. You’re a shitty actor. Let’s all hope you can direct.”

  “You think you’re such a damn funny man, Prescott. You think too much. It’s your greatest weakness. And it’s why you are going to lose this battle. You should concentrate more on actions and much less on thinking.”

  “You know what, Shen, you’re a dull blade, motherfucker. You are so lame I bet you could suck the fun out of laughing gas.”