Spirit of Empire
Book Four
SKY KNIGHTS
by
Lawrence P. White
Sky Knights
(Spirit of Empire, Book Four)
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright© 2015 by Lawrence P. White
Published by Lawrence P. White
First Edition May 2015
Cover design by Duncan Long
[email protected]
For more information, email Lawrence P. White at [email protected] or visit www.spiritofempire.com
The Spirit of Empire Series
Last of the Chosen
Knights of the Chosen
Voice of the Chosen
Sky Knights
Coming someday:
Wisdom of the Chosen
Table of Contents
List of Characters
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
Chapter Forty-two
Chapter Forty-three
Notes From the Author
About the Author
List of Characters and Locations
Lady Akurea - Knight of the Realm
Atiana - queen of Tricor and the province of five kingdoms
Claire Nbara - Guard on Harac
Crowles - Sergeant, Imperial Marines, Hawke’s assistant
Drodan - draft animal
Fogel - Lieutenant, squad leader, Imperial Marines
Sir Galborae - Knight from Tranxte
Gorlac - similar to a horse
Gar Havlock - Colonel, Imperial Marines
Hawke - Sergeant-Pilot, Imperial Marines, Teacher
Sir Josh - Terran Knight of the Realm
Kori - Medic, Imperial Marines, Healer
Kratzn - Trader
Zac Lebac - Havlock’s second in command, Imperial Marines
M’Kind - Transporter captain, Imperial Marines
Milae - Sir Galborae’s wife, local healer
Graylee Rodjiks - Engineer
Seeton - Governor, Aldebaran Sector
Stymes - General, Imperial Marines
Tennisol - Sir Galborae’s king
Thaeron - Builder
Turmae - Captain, Queen Atiana’s guards
Aboard Resolve:
Ellie - Queen of the Empire, Last of the Chosen
Lady Krys - Knight of the Realm, Seer
Sir Mike - First Knight of the Empire
Sir Otis - Knight of the Realm, a Great Cat and Protector
Sir Tarn - Knight of the Realm, the Guide
Sir Stven - Knight of the Realm, Resolve’s captain
Sir George - Resolve’s Artificial Intelligence (AI)
Borg - Great Cat, Protector
Terry Washburn - Terran Protector
Locations:
Aldebaran I - One of 70 Empire Sector Headquarters
Tranxte - emerging world comparable to Earth in the 1500’s
Shanlock - Sir Galborae’s kingdom
Tricor - Atiana’s kingdom, provincial capital of the five kingdoms
Harac - Rebel planet
Chapter One
Sir Galborae dismounted and the crowd parted, not needing to be told to stand aside for the big man. Dressed all in black, his aging, waist-length chain mail shone dully beneath a heavy, unbuttoned cloak. Worry lines deepened around his wide-set, brown eyes as details of the dead body came into view. Something had flayed skin and muscle right down through the bones, ripping organs from the chest. The single eye remaining in the torn face appeared locked in a rictus of horror.
He ran a hand through his closely cropped brown beard. A wild animal could have done this he thought as he knelt beside the body, but animals usually killed to eat. Not so, here. A few chosen morsels had been ripped from the chest, but nothing that approached a meal. Still, he doubted if a person could have inflicted this kind of total destruction, even a deranged person. No, it had to have been an animal.
A grieving woman stepped forward with two boys clutched hard to her sides. Galborae stood and gathered them in his arms, sharing their grief, then he released them and spoke to the crowd.
“He is the third to die in as many days. My men and I will hunt down whatever did this, but it could be a long hunt. Lord Boral asks that you join him in town until it’s safe to return to your fields.”
To the two boys, almost young men, he said, “You’re the men of the house now. See that you take care of your mother.” To the woman, he said, “I’m sorry, but I must be away. I’ll say my words now instead of waiting for the burial.”
He sang the song of the dead, his voice gruff but soothing and steady, then he spoke the traditional words. When he was done, he gave the two boys a firm look and turned toward his gorlac, raising his voice to the crowd. “Bury him, then follow my guards to town. Night is nearly upon us, so do not delay. I am not anxious to sing again.”
He organized the guards who would escort the farmers to town, then he took the reins of his gorlac and led his mount across the field toward Sir Brael who waited patiently. When he saw the imprint that Brael guarded, he crouched down with a furrowed brow. The imprint was larger than his own booted foot, and he was a large man. Well-defined claw marks extended forward from the imprint. Brael pointed out additional footprints, and after just a little study both men turned to each other, their faces grim.
“It walks on two feet,” Galborae said, the words testing the very fabric of his life’s experience.
“And it has claws, big ones,” Brael added. “I’ve never seen anything like this. Whatever it is, it’s not from around here.”
“It’s smart,” Galborae added. “Two killings happened in broad daylight with people around and no one saw anything. This last one was more isolated. It’s not going to stop until we stop it. Let’s go.”
He issued a mental command to his meld, Limam, a tawny-colored cat who stood thigh high to him, to track the creature. She let him know she had anticipated his need and had already picked up the scent. Her five companion melds followed her.
He mounted and pushed a thought to his gorlac to follow Limam across the field. The rest of his men, two knights and their three personal squires, all of them mounted on gorlacs, followed.
The knight
s pulled up beside him, each of them equipped for fighting with a broadsword and several knives. Shields hung from their accustomed places on each gorlac, and Sir Morlan’s heavy, double-bladed axe, a weapon that had frightened many a criminal into surrender over the years, slapped against his thigh from time to time. Each of them was dressed identically—black leather and mail covered by a heavy cloak, elbow-length gloves, and high boots. They all wore beards, Morlan’s the longest and most grand. Brael and Galborae had chosen to trim their beards close.
Their fighting gear made for a lot of extra weight, but living this way had become second nature to them and, in fact, provided a sense of security. Helmets had been left behind since they did not anticipate armed conflict, but the more Galborae saw of the wounds inflicted by the creature, the more he questioned his decision.
The squires rode abreast behind the knights, each of them armed with bows and knives and dressed in layers of tough, brown leather.
The six of them had become brothers during years of service to Lord Borel. Rarely did they fight other soldiers, but settling disputes and tracking down criminals was a never-ending business.
As they approached the forest, Galborae looked to the sun and frowned, knowing they would not make it back to town tonight.
Brael saw the frown and knew what it meant. “We grew up in these woods. We know our way around.”
Galborae stared at him, his frown deeper. “It’s not the woods I’m worried about.”
Brael just shrugged. It would be what it would be. “It doesn’t look like rain. The melds will pick up the trail in the morning, never fear.”
Galborae shrugged his shoulders in reply and pulled ahead as he entered the forest, not needing to order his men to follow in single file and spread out. They knew the drill.
He sent a thought out to his meld: still on the trail? The answer came back instantly. She was not happy. The scent was new to her and it was a bad scent.
The mind connection with his meld conveyed emotions and simple thoughts, not detailed conversations, so that information was about all he would get from her at the moment. He smiled inwardly at the sense of companionship the connection provided. He had melded with Limam shortly after her birth. He had been a young man then, just beginning training with the sword. He had expected the black spots in her tawny colored fur to disappear with maturity, but they had not. Now, as her fur lightened, the spots had become bolder and more beautiful. He loved her and she him. Only rarely was she absent from his side.
Traveling through the forest even on a well known trail required attention. Sitting atop a gorlac meant that overhanging branches were a constant threat. Besides that, the gorlac sensed the creature they followed and it was nervous, constantly licking it’s sharp teeth and salivating as if in anticipation of putting up a defense. Legs ending in sharp-nailed paws padded softly along the trail, but between his equipment and the brush, they still made plenty of noise. He wondered if the noise would scare away their prey, then considering the nervousness of his gorlac and Limam, he wondered if it was he who should be scared.
He patted the animal’s soft, hairless hide and sent calming thoughts, but gorlac melding was weak. Only the simplest commands and feelings could be sent, and the close, personal connection he had with Limam was never present. In some ways the weak melding was a benefit—gorlacs melded with anyone, not just one.
The prey traveled in the general direction of Waerton, his home. As darkness fell, he called his meld back, and the other melds followed her. He led the party to a familiar clearing where they set up camp, but at a gruff command from Galborae they stayed dressed in their armor. Darkness fed ancient instincts, and he was uneasy, wondering if he was hunter or prey. When he got no argument from his men, he knew they felt the same. Ordinarily a good hunt would be welcomed, but this hunt had the feel of a nightmare.
They settled in for the night, man/meld teams handing off the watch every couple of hours, though no one slept well. One moon set and the other was just rising in the early morning hours when nightmare became reality. The melds were the first to sense the creature, though they had no memories of the smell and their thoughts were confused. They woke up the men with silent thoughts of uncertainty—they knew something was here, but they could not find it.
Galborae wasted no time, ordering more fires to be set in a circle around the men, but his order came too late. Melds began snarling, then leaping at something only they could sense. Galborae shared the melds’ confusion—there was nothing there, but as he watched in horror, wounded melds began flying in all directions, their coats torn and bloody.
He moved in on the general area with his sword sweeping high and wide, but it found only air. Brael joined him, the two big men fighting shoulder to shoulder, but they could not find a target. Suddenly, Brael let loose a scream that froze Galborae’s soul. The skin on his face shredded right before Galborae’s eyes, then Brael was lifted up as if by invisible hands and tossed through the air toward the edge of the clearing.
Galborae struck at the air, swinging horizontally in hopes of hitting something, and this time he connected, but it was not a clean strike. He looked in horror as blood ran down his sword from some invisible creature. He lifted his sword high to strike again, but before he could swing, strong arms seized him. Warm, fetid breath filled his nostrils, then claws penetrated his chainmail and tore into his flesh. He tried to cry out, but the arms constricted his chest so hard that he had no breath.
His sword was already lifted, his arm free of the embrace, but he was too close to swing the blade. Instead, he brought the butt of the sword crashing into whatever held him. It seemed to have no affect.
He dropped the sword and reached over his shoulder, drawing his dagger from its scabbard as his world darkened. A sense of doom engulfed him as claws continued to rip, the injuries so severe he did not yet feel the pain. Knowing the creature had killed him, anger drove his arm to move, and the dagger struck deeply into flesh.
Sharp teeth, followed by the dark, mottled face of a creature from hell materialized inches away, its amber eyes staring into his own in triumph. With every ounce of his waning energy, he pulled the blade free and thrust it into an eye at an angle, twisting. The creature shrieked, the sound filling Galborae’s world for a moment, then the creature tossed him aside like a rag doll. His world faded to black.
The creature he had fought, now visible, stumbled off into the forest to die. Sir Morlan and the three squires, frozen into inactivity at the horror that had unfolded so quickly, suddenly came alive as their wounded melds leaped snarling and growling onto a second target. Squires sent arrows in the general direction of their attack and one struck something, seeming to float in mid-air. The knight leaped toward it with his sword slicing down toward the arrow, but his intended target moved aside. It caught him up and ripped at his chain mail, nearly severing the arm holding the sword.
A strange blue light lit the clearing for an instant and the creature suddenly became visible, a hulking giant with four arms and a mouthful of wicked teeth. The squires sent arrows into the thing, then with deadly swiftness they sent more arrows, but the creature was fast, incredibly fast. Two arrows sunk into its flesh, then the knight fell on it again with his axe. The creature slashed hard at the knight, ripping his throat out, then it turned to the squires. Four arms flailed in a wild frenzy, the creature’s eyes glowing in triumph as it sliced through flesh and sent bodies flying.
The clearing lit with blue light again, the light more intense this time as it struck the creature. The look of triumph in its eyes shifted to confusion as it collapsed to the ground. A moment later, sharp blasts sounded from the sky, tearing gaping wounds in the body of the creature and killing it.
A deathly silence fell over the killing field. The sound of men’s voices filtered down from above, then a harsh white light filled the clearing. A dark, ominous shape blotted out the stars, then the light disappeared.
A few minutes later the light reappeared and the top
s of the trees broke under the pressure of a descending saucer-shaped ship. A ramp extended to the ground and three large cats emerged to secure the clearing. Two men followed behind them, checking for survivors. At a sharp call, another man exited the ship pushing a floater. The three of them lifted Sir Galborae’s nearly dead body onto the floater, everyone disappeared up the ramp, the light went out as the ramp closed, and the ship left.
Chapter Two
When Galborae awoke, his first thoughts were those of his last: the feeling of dying. He sat up and looked around at a familiar setting, the clearing in the forest where he had died. The campfire still burned. He looked for his men, but they were not here. He felt alone, and he felt a certain unreality: there were no sounds or smells, and the air had a chill to it. He felt confused, but that seemed reasonable after dying.
His eyes suddenly fell on those of a stranger, a very large, dark-skinned man with eyes so bright they looked like white beacons in the darkness. He could have sworn the man had not been there a moment ago.
He instantly went into a crouch as his eyes swept the clearing for any other threats, then returned to the man. He was on his feet in the blink of an eye, his sword hissing from its scabbard. The man, certainly a demon since Galborae had crossed into the place that came after death, rose with him, his own sword clearing its scabbard right behind Galborae’s.
Galborae shuffled around the fire with his sword held ready, trying to sort through confused senses. His eyes clearly beheld an adversary, but in his mind he sensed that the man was not an adversary. When the man raised his sword to the ready, signifying intent, Galborae ignored what his mind was telling him and picked his move.
He leaped directly across the fire. Sword met sword, the clash of sound jarringly out of place in the stillness. To his surprise, the dark man’s strength was greater than his own, something he rarely encountered. He knew it the moment the swords met and he adjusted his plan, accepting the fact that brute strength would not win this death match. He swept his foot to drop the man, but the man twisted to the side, sliding his sword up the blade of Galborae’s sword and disengaging. Galborae stepped back, but the man followed, close enough to strike. Galborae capitalized on the mistake and swung his sword with both hands, but the man was as quick as he was strong. Swords clashed again, then Galborae twisted and struck again with a killing thrust. The man dodged just in time and parried with a slash that Galborae was ready for. He parried easily.
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