Broken Skies: Age Of Magic - A Kurtherian Gambit Series (A New Dawn Book 5)

by Amy Hopkins

  CONTENTS

  LMBPN Publishing

  Dedication

  Legal

  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

  Author Notes - Amy Hopkins

  Author Notes - Michael Anderle

  Social Links

  Books by Amy Hopkins

  Books by Michael Anderle

  BROKEN SKIES

  A New Dawn Book 5

  By Amy Hopkins and Michael Anderle

  A part of

  The Kurtherian Gambit Universe

  Written and Created

  by Michael Anderle

  DEDICATION

  To all the parents who’ve ever had to work at home during the school holidays.

  I salute you. You are warriors, and saints.

  — Amy

  To Family, Friends and

  Those Who Love

  to Read.

  May We All Enjoy Grace

  to Live The Life We Are

  Called.

  —Michael

  Broken Skies

  JIT Beta Readers

  Kelly O’Donnell

  Micky Cocker

  Peter Manis

  Kim Boyer

  Daniel Weigert

  James Caplan

  John Ashmore

  Joshua Ahles

  Paul Westman

  Larry Omans

  Kimberly Boyer

  Thomas Ogden

  Tim Bischoff

  If we missed anyone, please let us know!

  Editor

  Candy Crum

  BROKEN SKIES (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.

  This book Copyright © 2018 Amy Hopkins, Michael T. Anderle, CM Raymond, LE Barbant

  Cover by Andrew Dobell, www.creativeedgestudios.co.uk

  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 authors’ intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact info@kurtherianbooks.com. Thank you for your support of the authors’ rights.

  LMBPN Publishing

  PMB 196, 2540 South Maryland Pkwy

  Las Vegas, NV 89109

  First US edition, March 2018

  The Kurtherian Gambit (and what happens within / characters / situations / worlds) are copyright © 2015-2018 by Michael T. Anderle.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Julianne and Marcus walked down the familiar path leading into Tahn. They’d dismounted some time ago, letting the horses rest after a frantic trip through the Madlands.

  “I could have taken him,” Julianne said.

  Marcus blinked, as thoughts dragged back to their earlier conversation after a period of weary silence. “I told you, that remnant was too big. He’d have squashed you.”

  “You’re not actually any taller than me,” Julianne noted. “Well… maybe a finger-width, but not enough to make a difference.”

  “It’s not about height.” Marcus patted his rifle, now securely strapped to his saddlebags, and straightened his shoulders. “It’s about strength, dexterity, precision in the face of—” His words stopped short as he stumbled on a rock, hidden by the lengthening shadows and washed out colors of dusk.

  “You were saying?” Julianne asked with a laugh. “Tell me again how precise you are.”

  “Shut up.” Marcus focused his eyes ahead, trying to will the heat from his cheeks. “You know what I meant.”

  “You meant that you were too scared to take the beast on in a fair fight, so you assumed I would be, too.” Julianne lifted her hand and rubbed her thumb across a jagged bit of nail on one of her fingers. She’d broken it in the fight earlier. “You know what they say about people who assume things?”

  “That Marcus is an ass,” he grumped. “Fine. Maybe you could have taken him. But why? This rifle isn’t for decoration. If we’d waited for you to fight off old fish-breath, we wouldn’t have made it out of the Mads until well after dark. And blow a fair fight—I’m dying for a soft bed, Jules.”

  “Well, it’s all behind us now,” Julianne consoled him. “We’re past the big mean remnants keeping you from your beauty sleep. We can—”

  A hiss cut her off, and her horse skittered to one side as a figure leaped out from behind a tree.

  “Dinner!” The red-eyed beast bared his teeth and growled.

  “Shit!” Julianne squealed. Her horse agreed and reared back on two legs with a high-pitched whinnie, almost kicking Julianne in the head in its distress.

  The remnant took advantage of her distraction and lunged forward. Julianne grabbed at the bridle, fending off her attacker with a clumsy kick. The remnant barked a short laugh and tried again.

  This time, she was ready. The big, white horse came down, eyes wide and flank twitching. Julianne, now able to use the slack in the reins to move more freely, met her attacker with an elbow jab to the face, followed by a swift punch to the gut.

  It made little impact. Yellow, cracked nails clawed at her face and fetid breath washed over her as the remnant opened its mouth, trying to snap crooked teeth at her neck. The remnant’s face brushed hers, and Julianne felt the greasy, white face paint it wore as it smeared onto her skin.

  A pulse bounced through the air that could be felt more than heard. The remnant convulsed and coughed, blood-filled mouth spattering Julianne’s face with warm liquid.

  Squeezing her eyes shut, Julianne spat. “Ugh, that’s disgusting.” She dabbed her eyes with a sleeve and opened them again.

  “Let me guess,” Marcus said. “You could have taken him?”

  “Don’t be silly.” Julianne patted the horse’s neck, soothing him. “I was busy with old ‘fraidy-pants here. What took you so long, anyway?”

  “What… Gah!” Marcus threw up his hands and turned away, missing the glimmer of mirth in Julianne’s eyes.

  “Thank you, dear,” she called after him. “And sorry for being a crotchety old woman earlier.”

  “And?” Marcus prompted.

  “And?” Julianne repeated, not willing to give him too much ground.

  Marcus sighed. “You’re never going to admit I was right, are you?”

  “Of course, I am,” Julianne quipped. “As soon as you actually are right.”

  Marcus prodded the dead remnant with
the toe of his boot. “What’s he doing this far from the Madlands, anyway?”

  Julianne shook her head worriedly. They were too close to Annie’s for comfort. “Bastian said they’d been infesting the area, but I didn’t realize they’d come this far. Did you see the face paint? It’s not one of the Madlands pack members.”

  Marcus nodded. “Well, that’s what we’re here to fix.” He left the still-warm corpse and mounted his horse. “Let’s ride the rest of the way. I want to make sure these pricks haven’t been bothering Annie.”

  Julianne nodded absentmindedly as she slid a hand into the deep pocket of her robe. Inside, her fingers brushed a small, round object, hard as stone and cold to her touch. She stroked it gently and felt it shudder, then unfurl.

  Tiny claws clutched her middle fingertip, and a dry snout wrapped around it. “Sorry, little one. No treats just yet.”

  The tiny creature soon grew bored with the lack of offering from Julianne. It pulled away, wriggling around to wedge deeper into the cloth. A moment later it began the rhythmic, telltale shudder that signaled it was asleep.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Julianne rapped on the wooden door, fresh white paint glowing in the brightly-lit night. She rubbed her eyes as she waited for it to open. Behind her, Marcus shifted irritably.

  “Hush,” Julianne admonished. “And for Bitch’s sake, wipe your feet before we go in?”

  Marcus eyed his boots. Mud was caked around the edges of each sole, one of the boots sporting a smear up the toe where he’d tripped on a clod of dirt. His gaze slid to Julianne’s pristine leather shoes. “Why are yours so clean?” he grumbled.

  Julianne knocked again, this time smiling when a grumpy, “Hold your horses!” called from the other side.

  “I cleaned them in the creek,” she explained. “And then I rode through the swamp, instead of clomping through the mud like an idiot.”

  Marcus opened his mouth to protest—she had been the one who’d asked him to lead her horse through a particularly swampy field of grass—but he was cut off as the door swung open and hit the wall behind with a thump.

  “I don’t know what business you have at this time of night, but—” Annie looked up, her eyes widening and words faltering as she recognized who stood on her tiny front porch. “Well, Bitch bless me!”

  She slapped a hand to her mouth at the words. Annie wasn’t one to take the Bitch’s name like that, but damned if she wasn’t shocked to her bones to see these two standing there.

  “Annie!” Julianne leaned forward and wrapped the older woman in a tight embrace. “I’ve missed you!” she exclaimed. “How are the boys?”

  Annie pushed Julianne back to look at her, eyes moist as she clucked over the travel stains on Julianne’s pants. The one pair had lasted her the entire trip through the Madlands, and they showed the result of the gory fighting.

  “Boys are just fine.” Annie ushered them in, with only a cursory glare at Marcus’s boots. Nevertheless, he slid them off and set them neatly outside the door before stepping inside. “Harlon’s gone to work for Francis, you know. Some kind of secretary, he says. Both are doing well, thanks to you.”

  Julianne shook her head at Annie’s beaming smile. “That has nothing to do with me,” she said. “They’re smart, capable men. Francis especially has a gift for working with people.”

  Annie couldn’t argue with that, so she set about taking the couple’s packs and piling them by the door. “You’ll be staying the night, I presume? Too late to be traipsing into town.”

  “We’d hoped that would be ok,” Julianne said gently. “But if it’s too much bother—” Even Julianne’s words faltered under the furious glare Annie gave them, as if the old woman were offended at the suggestion.

  “Have you eaten? Of course not.” She jabbed an elbow at Marcus. “I know the kind of food that one packs when he’s going somewhere.” Nodding, Annie bustled off to the kitchen.

  “Hey,” Marcus called. “Any soldier would be happy with my cooking!”

  “You’re not feeding a soldier,” Annie snapped, sticking her head back around the corner and waving a tea-towel at him threateningly. “You’re catering for a lady, and an important one at that!”

  Marcus shrugged, grinning at Julianne. “Well, she’s got me there.”

  Julianne shook her head and waved at the bags. “Go put them away and stop hassling the poor woman.”

  She wandered into the kitchen, where Annie was just sliding a square tin into the oven. White dough puffed out of the top, dusted by tiny black seeds. On the bench beside her, three trays of raw oat cookies were carefully laid out.

  “Having a bake up?” Julianne asked, inhaling the comforting scent of cinnamon and apple as she perched on a stool.

  Annie scowled. “Since the traders have stopped coming so often, things have been scarce. I thought I’d run these into town first thing tomorrow, see if it don’t make a few smiles crop up amongst the gloom.”

  Julianne bit her lip, wincing. She’d come back to Tahn because of the strange portal, but knew that the recent increase in remnant numbers had harried the town in her absence. “How bad is it?” Julianne asked.

  “Well…” Annie blushed, an uncharacteristic reaction that Julianne noted with surprise. “A few brave men still make their way down, and they’ve been good enough to make sure we’re not wanting for anything urgent.”

  “Oh?” Julianne asked, itching to know what had flustered the other woman so badly, but unsure what question to ask to discover it.

  Julianne’s ability to read minds had no bearing here. Annie had not only been good to Julianne, she’d also been clear about her thoughts on reading minds uninvited. No mystic who had met her would intrude there without a damn good reason.

  Thudding footsteps announced Marcus’s return and he slipped into the kitchen with a grin. He leaned down to peck Annie on the cheek, then darted away from a flick of her tea towel.

  “Don’t you be getting fresh with me, young man,” she scolded. Despite her words, her eyes twinkled happily. “The bread won’t take long to cook. You both go and freshen up.” Her eyes raked Julianne’s blood-stained clothes with distaste.

  “Thank you, Annie.” Julianne slid off her chair but paused on her way out. “I have to attend a meeting. You know…” She tapped her temple to signify the meeting would take place in her mind. “I might be a bit late coming down.”

  “Get yourself dressed, then go make yourself comfortable on the back porch,” Annie said. “There’s no one here to bother you, and I’ll do my best to make sure this one is too busy to get in your way.”

  Marcus lifted his hands. “I would never!”

  “Fact remains, I need a man’s strength to help me with some things. You’re a man, if I guessed right?” Annie left the taunt hanging.

  “All you had to do was ask.” Marcus’s face was painted with a wounded expression, but it was quickly followed by a grin when Annie rolled her eyes at him.

  Julianne quickly ran upstairs to find her things stacked neatly on a bed. It was the same room Annie had put her up in last time she had been in Tahn. The bedsheets were smooth and neatly tucked, and despite holding the stale scent of a long-closed room, not a speck of dust marred the thin mantle over the tiny fireplace.

  Apart from plain linen curtains and a small corner table, the room was undecorated. Julianne preferred it that way—it suited Annie’s perfunctory, no-nonsense attitude.

  Julianne fished the alien creature from her pocket. Uncurled, it was shaped like an almond—if almonds had long, straw-like snouts and flared ridges along each side.

  The shell sparkled, a deep rust-red color that threw flecks of light onto the walls as she held it up to the sun. “I know, boy. It was a long trip, and you’re hungry. We’re nearly there, though. You can see your friends again!”

  She had no idea if the little beasts had a social structure like bees or ants, or if they were solitary. She didn’t even know if—or how—they mated. Her assumption that she
held a boy was based on nothing more than a gut feeling, and the vague memory of a pet rat she’d had for a short time as a child.

  With her free hand, she dug into one of her bags and pulled out a sheaf of paper. Tearing one off, she twirled it around. The creature shivered in anticipation, shrugged its shell over its head twice and let out a high-pitched whistle.

  The paper jerked from her fingers, and trembled and vanished into a mouth hidden beneath the shell. As it ate, the creature warmed in her hand. Not enough, though—after a good feed, the little beast would heat to burning.

  When the door creaked, Julianne jumped.

  “It’s just me, girl.” Annie shouldered her way past the door holding a large pitcher and a bowl with a cloth draped over the side, all piled on top of a thick, folded towel. “Water’s warm, but won’t be for long.” Setting the crockery on the table and the towel on the bed, she turned, then jumped back.

  “Sorry, Annie.” Julianne held the creature close. “I forgot to tell you—I’ve brought a friend.”

  “I’m well familiar with those little vermin,” Annie said. “Ate my only copy of Tessa’s scone recipe, they did.”

  “Oh, dear.” Julianne frowned, feeling the tension in the air.

  “It’s not that I mind them, so much as I don’t like them,” Annie explained. “That’s no beast of Irth, you mark my words. And that flaming doorway to nowhere your friend found? Nothing but trouble.”

  Julianne sighed. “I hope you’re wrong, Annie. I really do. And I wish I could say I thought you were.”

  Annie nodded curtly. “You just keep that thing away from my kitchen. Long as it doesn’t eat any more of my important notes, it can stay.”