Drevics attacked the horses, but couldn’t keep pace. Warren rallied and led his team out of the city. They were alive, and that was all Warren cared about. It wasn’t until they were fifteen miles from the city that he halted the team on the side of the road.
“Is everyone all right?”
“Singed, don’t s’pose I can get a new hood out of those demons,” Cassidy said, shaking debris from his ash brown hair with a hand. Attached to the back of his armor hung a charred scrap of fabric.
“At least that’s all that got burned,” Vallerie said, leaning over to kiss her husband. She frowned and pinched at the scruff on his cheek.
“Ow, I know! I’ll trim up later. We’ve been a little busy for facial hygiene,” Cassidy complained.
Warren glanced at Emron, who simply nodded in response. His brown eyes peered through the eye slits of his full-face helmet, stoic as always.
“Were you able to evacuate the citizens?” Warren asked.
“We filled two ships before they attacked the harbor,” Vallerie said, pushing aside a strand of auburn hair that had escaped her shoulder length braid.
It wasn’t much, but it was something.
“Ruben gave you the map?” Emron asked, his voice gruff.
“Yes,” Warren reached into his saddle bag and paused. His hand slipped over a soft surface. Brow furrowing, he pulled it out.
Isabel’s doll.
“And that is?” Cassidy waved a finger at the doll.
“A war orphan gave this to me right before I left Fortitude. I forgot I had it.”
“You stole a child’s doll.”
Warren raised an eyebrow at the lanky archer.
“Wait.” Vallerie steered Echo over to Warren, and her emerald gaze studied the toy. “This came from Methril.”
“Her father must have traveled there before he died.”
Vallerie stared at the doll a moment longer. “Right.”
“What’s our plan?” Emron asked.
“We’ll take the road through Flinn and camp there tonight.” Warren tucked the doll back into his pack and retrieved the map.
The Darkness had plundered all it could from the village years ago. If his reports from last year were correct, then the Darkness wouldn’t pay much attention to the destroyed town.
“That’s a full day’s ride from here,” Vallerie said. “What about the kellnox? There will be hundreds of them out after the sun sets.”
“All the more reason to get to Flinn.” Warren replied.
3
R olling hills decorated with patches of shrubby trees and mid-length grass blurred past Warren’s peripherals. The soft scent of clean, open air traveled along the breeze and filled his lungs. Out in the country, where battles hadn’t scarred the land, Warren nearly forgot the war encompassing the realm. Birds still chirped and the sun still shone, a lingering breath of peace.
Cassidy and Vallerie rode close together at the back of the group, an occasional witty remark drifted to Warren’s ears, making him smile. They needed good humor in these dreary times.
Warren couldn’t figure out how Emron remained so stoic all the time. Warren had only spent a month alone, suffocated by endless misery, and it nearly drove him mad. He could count on one hand the number of times he’d seen Emron laugh, and he had known the man since they were children.
Warren frowned at the memory of their first meeting. The webbed scar across the side of Emron’s face that disfigured his left ear had disturbed him as a child. Knowing that the injury had rendered Emron deaf in that ear had only heightened Warren’s weariness around him as a child. Though fear turned to trust years ago, he still wondered what Emron thought about. Whatever he thought about, it kept him going, even if it was in ominous silence.
As night drew near, the sounds of the world faded into a new tune. Crickets chirped more boldly, and the evening breeze that ruffled through the tall grass whispered of what little peace remained. The sun hung low in the western skyline when the team entered the shattered ruins of Flinn.
A strange sensation lingered in the air: it carried a frailty with it, as though a single breath would shatter the dismal scene. Noble pranced nervously as they entered the town. Warren narrowed his eyes. This isn’t right. He held up a hand to halt his team. The others stopped, watching for his next command.
Warren scanned the broken building, expecting to find evidence of a trap, but there was none. So why did the space feel so wrong? He slipped his sword from its sheath. Cassidy reached for an arrow. Emron and Vallerie drew their weapons. He still didn’t like it, but they were losing daylight.
Adjusting their riding order to a defensive stance, Vallerie and Emron followed half-a-horse length on either side of Warren while Cassidy took up the rear.
Only the cracked foundations of the hand-built homes remained. People’s belongings were strewn throughout the streets, as though a storm bullied its way through each house, gutting it perniciously. Not a single cricket chirped within the razed village. Even the evening breeze seemed to shrink away from the rubble. Like a devastated tomb, the town lay untouched by scavengers and sound.
Warren led the way to what he hoped would pass as a place to set up camp. A building with two mostly full walls and parts of the third and fourth. A cracked sign lay on the ground that read “Remedy Inn.” It would provide a degree of shelter for the night. Warren gave a single glance to his companions, and they dismounted their steeds. Wood screeched under foot as he stepped onto the porch.
There goes our element of surprise. He pushed open what remained of the door. Pale streams of light filtered through holes in the ceiling and walls, lighting the nightmarish room.
Tables lay overturned or snapped in half in a pile. Broken glass scattered across the ground. And the smashed remnants of stale food seeped into the floorboards. This was the future of Fortitude if they failed.
Warren nodded for Emron and Cassidy to investigate the hall on the right. He then locked eyes with Vallerie and flashed a look over her shoulder at the door where they had entered. Nodding, Vallerie stepped outside to keep watch, which left the kitchen for Warren.
The floorboards groaned underneath him with each step. Musty air rose from below, reminding him of ancient catacombs where the wealthy laid their dead to rest. Something about the smell unnerved him. He shook his head; the village had been vacant for years.
Inside the kitchen, a cabinet that once reached from ground to ceiling lay atop a shattered table. Silence dominated the room until the faint sound of shifting rubble from the hallway pricked Warren's ears. Backing out of the kitchen, he spun around searching for the cause. Nothing stirred. Scowling at the main hall, he questioned whether he had imagined the entire thing.
He glanced back at the kitchen one last time, ensuring nothing had changed. It was probably a bit of debris falling from the ceiling. He turned away and paused in the main hall once again. Soon after, Cassidy and Emron exited the guest quarters with grim expressions covering their faces.
Emron nodded Warren toward the hall. Of the five rooms, only the one at the end of the hall still had a working door. A support beam had fallen from the ceiling, blocking the entrance. As Warren got closer, he saw the deep gouges in the door. Too small to be from a drevic, but too deep to be from a cat or a dog. It almost looked like someone had taken a fork to the door. Why? Warren pushed the door open with a frown.
The room lay in disaster, but not the way Darkness attacks usually were. Shards of glass, knives, forks, broken plates, and bits of metal—anything sharp enough to penetrate the walls—dotted their entirety. Blood coated the shrapnel and streamed down the walls. The metal chandelier dangled from two bolts.
Warren ran two fingers down the nearest blood stain—dry. The Darkness never used human tools, much less used them to vandalize a room. He thought about the sound he’d heard earlier and turned to Cassidy and Emron. Both of them gave him a troubled look, and Warren gestured for them to follow him out of the inn.
�
�What’s wrong?” Vallerie whispered.
Warren shut the door behind him, then gazed at Cassidy and Emron as he considered the information they had gathered.
“There’s something in there. I don’t know what, but I heard it.”
“Not to mention the creepy room at the end of the hall.” Cassidy huffed with a shiver.
“What?” Vallerie asked.
Warren started to explain the room behind the clawed door when he heard a scuttling movement from inside the inn. He glanced at his team; the looks on their faces confirmed that they also heard it. With a finger to his lips, he listened. The noises continued. He reached for the door, hesitating long enough for his team to get ready, then flung it open, the rusted hinges squealing.
Nothing.
Warren checked behind the door. Nothing there either. What had made that sound?
He backed out of the inn and stared hard at the now closed door. Whatever was in there was unlike anything they had encountered before. Did they really want to stay in Flinn?
“What’s your call?” Vallerie asked, crossing her arms.
Warren wrenched his eyes off the splintered wood and looked at his team. They watched him. He squinted at the skyline. The sun kissed the horizon. They didn’t have time to try to reach another town. He looked back at his team.
“We stick with the plan. There isn’t time to travel anywhere else. Whatever’s in there hasn’t shown any signs of aggression toward us, but stay on guard. I’ll take the first watch.”
It wasn’t ideal, but in their line of work, ideal was a rare luxury.
The others nodded in agreement and led their steeds into a nearby structure. With the horses hidden, they returned to the inn and cleared a spot for their bedrolls.
“Just give me a shake if you get scared.” Cassidy smirked from his bedroll and closed his eyes, fingers laced behind his head.
Warren scoffed and ignored him.
After searching the rubble, Warren found a usable chair. The back right leg was shorter than the rest, so when he leaned back, the chair rocked a bit, but remained fairly sturdy.
With his blade resting across his knees, Warren waited for night to descend on them. What little light seeped into the inn soon faded to black, and the last distant croaks of dusk became eerie and silent.
An awful noise awoke the night—the first wailing shriek of the kellnox. Though it sounded far away, Warren still held his blade tighter. The calls came from every direction, but none were close enough to threaten them.
As time slipped onward, the cry of the kellnox dissipated, and Warren got used to the sound of the inn settling. Occasionally, debris fell from the ceiling and cracked on the ground, so when something moved behind him, he flinched. He looked over his shoulder and caught Emron shifting in his sleep.
Warren let out a held breath and shook his head. He turned back around, and as he did, he glimpsed something crawling into the hall. Nearly knocking over his chair, he bolted upright.
A scowl grew on his face as he squinted at the archway. A slight part of him didn’t believe what he saw.
Slowing his breaths, Warren debated what to do. If that was the creature they had heard, maybe it was best to leave it alone. However, if it was identified, he would know how to best deal with it. Warren cast a quick look around the main hall, then shook Cassidy’s shoulder.
“I’m up, I’m up,” Cassidy mumbled, batting Warren away.
Warren hushed Cassidy.
“Watch over the team. I need to check something out.”
Cassidy mumbled under his breath as Warren strode away. Warren didn’t have time to wait for Cassidy to gather himself. The creature had evaded them this long. If Warren didn’t act now, he’d miss it.
A fluctuating light beckoned him to the end of the hall. Light, but how? The chandelier shouldn’t have been lit. Unable to deny his curiosity, he slid down the hall and into the room leaving Cassidy to guard the others.
Warren’s gut twisted as he glanced into the room. In the center of the room lay twelve wax candles in an ancient, ritualistic circle. In the center of the circle lay an old, leather-bound book. A bloody line connected each candle to the inner circle.
Where did all of this come from? Whose blood was on the floor?
A crash sounded behind him. Spinning around, Warren found nothing more than a small pile of debris. Whirling back, he analyzed the book. Most of its tattered, yellowed pages separated from the leather spine, which was nearly worn off. Hesitant, Warren picked up the book and opened it. Inscribed on the first page, in neat calligraphy, was the phrase:
This is the private journal of Charles Kerron.
The scowl on Warren’s face deepened as he flipped to the next page. Before he read further to find out who Charles Kerron was, or what the journal meant, a shriek split the silence behind him.
Warren spun around, thinking the kellnox had found them. He was wrong. Before him crouched a bony old man covered in soot and filth.
Taking advantage of Warren’s surprise, the man leapt forward, a crude shiv in his hand. Warren deflected the blow with his bracer but didn’t fight back. This was a man, not a drevic or kellnox.
Warren stepped back, holding up his hands. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
He might as well have spoken another language. Nothing he said registered in the man’s eyes.
Again, the man charged. This time, Warren caught his free hand by the wrist and blocked the knife hand with his arm.
“I can help you,” Warren grunted, fighting to keep the man steady.
Although he appeared malnourished, the man still had strength. In a sudden movement, the man lunged forward, biting into Warren’s neck.
Burning pain shot from Warren’s neck into his arms and back as he screamed and staggered back, one hand pressed against the wound. Again, the deranged elder charged. Before he knew what he was doing, Warren shoved the man into the wall and impaled him on the carnage. By the time he realized what he had done, the man was dead.
Cassidy burst into the room.
“What happened?”
Warren stared at the dead man, still processing what he had done.
Vallerie shouldered her way past Cassidy. “You’re hurt.”
Warren blinked. He had killed him.
Vallerie pulled his hand away from his neck, and Warren looked at his hand. Sticky blood had soaked through the palm of his glove.
“He bit you?” Vallerie exclaimed.
Cassidy shoved his way forward. “Is that a tooth?”
“What?” Warren said, breaking free of his trance.
“We need to clean that.” Vallerie led Warren back through the hall.
“What’s with the book?” Emron asked once they sat down.
Warren had forgotten the journal in his hand. “I don’t know. It was in the middle of the blood circle.”
“Do you know who it belongs to?” Cassidy asked.
Warren winced as Vallerie touched his neck.
“Sorry.”
“It’s fine,” Warren said. “A man named Charles Kerron.”
“Who’s Charles Kerron?” Cassidy raised an eyebrow.
“No clue, I’d only read the first page before being attacked.”
Warren opened his mouth to rebuke Cassidy for not having his back when Vallerie ripped something from his neck. He yelled and clasped a hand over the throbbing wound, shooting Vallerie a pained look. She held a human canine between her thumb and pointer finger, then dropped the tooth into Warren’s hand before pulling healing items from a leather sack.
“Would you look at that? The scrawny devil got you,” Cassidy said.
“Yeah, he fought better than you ever do.” Warren squinted and analyzed the tooth.
Brown and riddled with cavities, the tooth still had a considerable amount of root attached. That man had intended to kill. Though Warren understood that fact, the guilt of what he had done refused to diminish.
“I’ll have to remember not to spare your e
go next time,” Cassidy said, watching Warren toss the tooth to the side.
“By all means don’t hold back.” The response felt weak on Warren’s tongue. How could he have been so careless? He should have restrained the man.
“This is not going to be pleasant,” Vallerie warned as she drenched the side of Warren’s neck in a mild cleansing acid.
It very well may have been fire searing through his wound and into his jaw and shoulder. Warren ground his teeth, as he pried at the armor plating on his thigh.
“There you go Warren, be a good boy and take your medicine,” Cassidy jeered.
“Emron,” Warren grunted.
Emron didn’t need any further instruction. He socked Cassidy in the arm.
“Ow!” Cassidy shouted, rubbing his now numb shoulder.
Vallerie set the bottle aside and bandaged the wound.
“Thank you Emron,” Warren said, as pain ebbed out of existence.
Cassidy continued to moan until Vallerie finished bandaging Warren’s neck, then gave up and went back to sleep with the rest of the team while Warren finished his watch. He stared at the cover of the journal, but his eyes didn’t see the aged leather. Within his mind’s eye he saw the man he had killed. It made him sick to think that he had fought for so long to protect the people of the world, and within a minute, he’d killed someone.
That day at Hilltop Orphanage flashed in his mind. He shoved the memory out of his head, refusing to go back to that moment. He wouldn’t return to the day he determined nothing would stop him from destroying the Darkness. He owed master Byrum that much.
He turned back the cover of the journal and reread the first page, then turned to the next one, reverently taking in each word. From what he gathered, Charles Kerron owned Remedy Inn. When the Darkness armies hit the town, all chance of escape vanished, leaving him with only one choice—hiding. He destroyed his room and hid inside his mattress for several days. After that, his journal entries showed signs of lost sanity and, eventually, his ability to write.
The Ajoiner Realm (Defenders of Radiance Book 1) Page 3
