by CM Raymond
CONTENTS
Dedication
Legal
Map
Prologue
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
Epilogue
Arcadians
Mystic
LE Barbant
CM Raymond
Michael Anderle
Series List
Series List MA
Social Links MA
DEDICATION
To Family, Friends and
Those Who Love
To Read.
May We All Enjoy Grace
To Live The Life We Are
Called.
REVOLUTION
JIT Beta Readers
John Findlay
Alex Wilson
James Caplan
Brent Bakken
Kelly ODonnell
Kimberly Boyer
Melissa OHanlon
Peter Manis
Paul Westman
John Raisor
If we missed anyone, please let us know!
Editor
Candy Crum
Lynn Stiegler
Revolution (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.
Copyright © 2017 CM Raymond, LE Barbant and Michael T. Anderle
Cover by Mihaela Voicu http://mihaela-voicu.squarespace.com/
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 [email protected]. 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, June 2017
The Kurtherian Gambit (and what happens within / characters / situations / worlds) are copyright © 2017 by Michael T. Anderle.
Prologue
Cold rain fell like a barrage of arrows, threatening to drown what little survived amongst the Boulevard’s charred remains.
The Queen that the slums were named for was long gone, but even she couldn’t bring back what had been taken from this place.
Though it had been over a week, the rubble still smoldered, a testament to the power at Adrien’s disposal, and the damage his airship could exact.
Adrien’s eyes were fixed on the spot before they meticulously scanned the whole but empty city streets surrounding the Boulevard. The commoners—any who had lived through the Chancellor’s onslaught—had deserted Arcadia with the wizard and his Witch Bitch. And although the success of his airship should have made him feel triumphant, Adrien felt nothing but rage.
They had stolen from him, but victory would soon be his.
Doyle, Adrien’s assistant, cleared his throat from the open door of the Academy tower. “Sir, it’s time.”
Adrien stood for another moment as if he hadn’t heard the man and then finally turned, his long, blood-red robe flowing around him. The medallion of the Chancellor—reserved for ceremonial occasions—hung around his neck.
“They’re all assembled?” he asked, finally turning toward Doyle.
Swallowing hard, he nodded. “Yes, sir. All that remain. Fewer than I expected.”
The rebellion had claimed lives. His soldiers were killed in the streets—along with the Prophet and his faithful. But the Academy had seen its share of casualty, too, mostly by way of recruitment.
It appeared that a small number of his own flock had thought Adrien’s actions were too extreme. They fled with the rabble. Their punishment would be even more severe.
Without another word, the two men proceeded out of the tower and toward the great hall.
As they entered the auditorium, Doyle spoke. “Your forces, sir, those who remain faithful, they are more committed than ever. If anything, that pitiful rebellion only culled the weak and spineless. All true Arcadians continue to stand at your service.”
They had better, Adrien thought. Or I’ll flay them alive.
“Thank you, Doyle,” was all that he said. He handed Doyle his notes and turned toward the stage. He had considered his words for days and could recite the speech by heart. Pushing through a set of double doors, he stepped out onto the broad platform lit from overhead with magitech spotlights.
The crowd rose to their feet and applauded their leader.
Doyle was right about the size—he could see the empty rows in the back of the auditorium. They had taken some losses, but the look of commitment that washed over the faces of all in the room inspired more confidence than could be expected. Power surged through Adrien’s body; electricity tingled around the surface of his skin. The remaining faculty stood on the stage prepared to follow him wherever he might lead.
Eyeing the empty seats, he finally smiled at Nikola and August and gave them an assuring nod. They would be compensated well for their loyalty—or at least for their intelligence in choosing the winning side.
Raising his hands, Adrien smiled broadly. “Thank you. Thank you, so much. Now, please sit.”
For the first time, his devoted denied his command. They remained standing, and the applause only grew louder.
Seldom given over to these emotions, Adrien’s throat constricted. He was overwhelmed by their commitment. They recognized his power for what it was. Nodding, he said again, “Thank you. Now, sit. There is no time for fanfare.”
The crowd simmered to silence and sat, the faculty followed suit.
“You all know of the cowardly attack against us. The fake Founder and his student from the Boulevard infiltrated these very halls.” Heads nodded in response. “It was an attack none of us could have expected. I had always hoped that Arcadia would stand in the light of peace for all of her days. But peace is not easy to maintain when there are others lurking in the shadows who covet all that you have, who want to destroy you.”
The audience shifted in their seats. His words inspired them, as much as they filled them with fear.
“Your loyalty to Arcadia—and to me—is truly touching. You are my faithful, and I will never forget the faces that are here tonight. But let us also not forget the faces of the others. Of the ones committed to our vision for a beautiful city whose bodies are still cooling in their graves. Magicians, Guards, and Disciples alike bled for the sake of our vision, which was big enough to give their last breath to. And now,
it is time to hunt down the bastards that destroyed our city. It is time to make them pay.”
The crowd leaped to their feet, and a steady roar hung in the room.
Adrien smiled and nodded. He let them cheer and shouted over the clamor. “Each and every one of you will be key in our victory. Faculty, it’s time to leave behind your books and your offices. Students, consider this your official graduation.”
He paused, and let the frenzy grow.
“School is out, boys and girls. It is time to go to war!”
CHAPTER ONE
Heavy rain fell across the old glass windows, waking Hannah from her already restless slumber.
Shooting up in her bed, her mind swam with images from her dream—or rather her nightmare. It had been the same every night for a week.
The airship hovered over the Boulevard, bringing down hellfire on the place she had once called home. Standing helplessly on a hill overlooking the city, she watched her people die.
Body covered in cold sweat, she had to remind herself, like each day before, that the dream had really happened—although most of her people escaped. But that didn’t stop her from reliving it each night—a bitter memory that haunted her.
Throwing her legs over the side of her bed, she looked down at Sal still happily snoring on the floor beside her. The dragon was nearly as long as the bed and weighed twice as much.
Despite his size, he had more room here in the tower—although he spent a good deal of time stretching his wings outside. There was no longer any reason for him to hide who he was.
She got up and paced across the room. It was the same that she had occupied when she and Ezekiel had lived there before not even a year ago. Those months felt like a different lifetime. Unlike before, the room was no longer her own. Two other beds lined the walls, but they were empty and made up with blankets pulled tight.
Julianne and Amelia were already gone—as they were every morning. Their diligence in leading the tower filled with Arcadian rebels was inspiring, but Hannah needed her rest. Parts of her body still ached from her fight against Alexandra in the factory.
Pulling on her white, mended shirt and leather corset, she was pleased to feel a little bit more like the girl from the Boulevard. Too many days were spent masquerading as Deborah, the proper noblewoman, and she was glad to be Hannah once again. Of all the things that died that night, Hannah was glad that Deborah was one of them.
“Come on, you lug. Get up,” she called to Sal.
The dragon lay motionless, save his steady breathing. He opened one eye, saw Hannah standing over him, and then closed it quickly.
She couldn’t help but laugh and give him a little kick to the ribs. “I know you’re awake. Now, get your lazy ass up. Let’s go find some food.”
At the mention of breakfast, the dragon hopped up onto all fours and beat Hannah to the door. He sat, his enormous tail swiping back and forth while his eyes stayed on his master.
“You need to get control of that thing,” she said, pointing at his long meaty tail with its barbed end. “Gonna freaking kill someone with it if you’re not careful.”
Sal rubbed his head against her leg. Reaching down, Hannah gave him a scratch under the chin. “Good things today, Sal. It’s time to start planning the revolution.”
****
Hannah and Sal walked the long corridor toward the Great Hall, which had been arranged as an enormous gathering place. The tower was already buzzing with life, and people tripped over themselves to get out of the way of the girl and her dragon.
In all, nearly two hundred Arcadians had fled the city the night the Boulevard burned. Parker and Julianne lead them to their new home in the woods. While the majority of the community were people from the Boulevard, there were certainly middle-class folks—largely business owners from the market—and a few dozen nobles mixed in as well.
Over that first week, the new community spent their hours getting acquainted with each other, and healing from the shock of Adrien’s violence. Many had taken part in the melee on the streets of Queen’s Boulevard, and more than a few came to the tower with a significant injury. The refugees now filled the once abandoned tower almost to the breaking point.
Ezekiel had told her the building was once called a skyscraper, and though there were only eight floors remaining, she could imagine it reaching up into the heavens in the days before the Age of Madness—before the old world came to an end.
Some of the rooms were being used for planning and training, but most—including the ones that Ezekiel had trained Hannah in—had been converted into bunkhouses. A small group of carpenters was working around the clock, hammering together makeshift beds, and working to accommodate the people.
Everyone had a gift, and all would be used before too long.
Sal curled up under a table, built for him, that had become their normal spot during meal times as Hannah got in line to get food. She glanced back at the dragon and smiled. If Sal kept growing, he’d have to become a better hunter. The rations that Eleanor, Maddie, and the others had saved from the city were quickly dwindling, and soon, eyes would turn to the gentle dragon for meat. Hannah would die before Sal became steaks.
A gruff voice ahead in the line interrupted her meanderings about Sal’s culinary use. “Dammit, you can’t just cut into line like that. Get to the end like everybody else.”
The man raising his voice had a harsh face to match his tone. The object of his ire was a nobleman, a few inches shorter and half as wide.
Face turning red, the nobleman raised his hands in defense. “No, no. I was here. Just had to see to my wife for a second, she’s not well.”
“Here? You were here? I sure as shit didn’t see you here. How about you—” the man nodded to another new resident of the tower “—you see this tight ass nobleman in line right there?”
The third party turned away from the disagreement, trying his best to stay out of trouble.
“Shit,” the gruff man said. “Just get to the end of the line.”
“How dare you speak to me like that? I’m sure you’re used to barking like a dog in the streets, but I deserve some bloody respect, you bastard.”
Hannah scanned the room, looking for her friends. None of them were there. She left the line and approached the men. “Cool it.” Turning from the nobleman to the man from the Boulevard, she said, “Who cares who was here first? There’s enough food for us all.”
The gruff man spun to face Hannah. “The hell there is. Can’t be much of anything left, but I’ll be damned if I let some prick from the Quarter eat while I starve. And who the hell are you, thinking you can tell me anything about anything?”
A tiny smile spread across Hannah’s face. Naturally, she thought everyone in the tower knew exactly who she was: Hannah from the Boulevard—the Witch Bitch that saved them all from their misery under the thumb of Adrien the Dickweed. But it seemed like this man needed a lesson.
The man looked at Hannah and then back at the noble. “She belong to you?”
In silence, the noble looked at his feet.
“Scheisse, I’ll tell you who she is,” a deep, gravelly voice said. “That’s Hannah, the one that saved your pathetic, ungrateful ass from being fried like a pork chop. So, ye better start respectin’ her.”
Hannah and the man both spun to see Karl, the rearick, standing with his war hammer resting on his shoulder.
“But if ya have a problem with that, ya little twat, we could step outside and straighten it out, if ya like,” Karl snorted, looking up at the man.
The man’s eyes cut back to Hannah. “You’re… her?” he stammered.
“In the flesh and blood,” Hannah said with a grin.
His lip trembled, and he looked back at the rearick’s hammer. “Shit… I’m so…”
Hannah held up a hand. “Listen. The tower’s getting tight these days. Go get your food and cool off.”
The man nodded.
“But give any more shit to anyone, and I’ll introduce
you to my dragon.” She nodded over to Sal and watched the man’s face freeze. “Understand?”
He nodded, but his eyes were cast downward.
“Good,” she smiled. “We’re all in this together. Things are getting tough; they’ll only get tougher. If we start tearing each other to shreds, that bastard back in our home has already won.”
The man turned back in the line and tried to pretend nothing had happened.
“Thanks,” Hannah whispered to Karl.
“Just another boar I saved ya from, lass. Now, let’s get our grub and have a seat!”
With their plates half as full as they should have been, Hannah and Karl made their way to a table in the corner of the great room where Sal had already taken up residence under his table.
Hannah kicked her feet up on her beast and took in the room. The first few days after the victory, people were alive with the rush of winning the day, but that energy had faded. They had begun to fear their decision to follow the magician and her crew out to the tower.
Even some of the folk from the Boulevard grumbled, “Why have you led us out of Arcadia? Life was better there.”
She knew that was a lie. She knew that they had already forgotten the taste of Adrien’s oppression. And she knew that they would need to eat and train if they were going to take back the city.
Eleanor sat across from them, with her own sparse bit of food. She stared at it for a moment in a prayer of gratitude to the Matriarch and the Patriarch. She finally looked up at Karl and Hannah, smiled, and stabbed one of her few cubes of potatoes with her fork.
As the one assigned to rations, Eleanor had taken it upon herself to eat less than anyone else. It was a job Hannah did not envy, but she knew Eleanor was up to the task.
“People are getting restless,” the rearick said as if he had been reading Hannah’s mind. “I’ve seen it before. If we don’t get them moving, and soon, they’ll start turning on each other. Hell, they’ll turn on us.”
