Authors: Chris Philbrook
I haven’t gotten Gilbert’s take on all this in private yet, so I have no idea what he thinks about the situation. He seems really happy to have the people around though, and I think he’s really happy to be helping. Plus this is right down his area of expertise. Captains in the Green Berets run units of Green Berets, and they do the entire mission planning. I think he’s having fond flashbacks with all this ambush nonsense.
Frankly, the more I think about it, I’m still waiting for the other shoe to drop. All these new faces here, all this tension, plus weapons all over the place. For whatever frigging reason I trust Gilbert, and I am pretty sure Abby is good to go, but I’m still not sure about Chuck, Patty, and Randy. Chuck seems like a loose cannon (maybe because I’m threatened by another man), Patty is a mother in a world that’s out to get both her children, and Randy is a 12 year old boy, which is trouble waiting to happen.
Which brings me back to... Tomorrow we’re doing the same thing. That’ll be three straight days of sitting in wait, ready to be attacked. I’m used to the tension from my Army days, but Chuck seems pretty worn thin. I don’t think he can take many more days of this before we need to pull him off the line, and if something happens, I’ll just have to deal with it myself. I’m curious to hear what Gilbert’s plan is. He and Charles are both convinced we won’t be attacked for days now because of the snow, but we can’t risk not being ready for them. Charles says the roads were bad enough with just three or four inches of snow, and with nine inches or better over the entire valley, it’ll be impassible except to the largest trucks.
All I can think about is the fact that Charles said they had a lot of trucks, and if just one of those motherfuckers knows how to run a plow… Like I said, we just can’t risk it. I just hope Gilbert’s plan comes into play and is actually helpful. Maybe he’s got some old claymore mines kicking around in his basement. My left testicle for a crate of claymores. Going once... going twice...
Oh, those two oafs who I plugged with the gauge dropped yet another 12 gauge shotgun, and a bolt action.300 magnum hunting rifle. The dude with the scatter gun had 18 shells, and there were 14 rounds of the .300 mag. It’s a good rifle, but the Savage is better imho. Plus that thing doesn’t have a good scope. At the very least, it’s nice to accumulate more guns. I can do basic weapons maintenance, but it’s not like gun parts are currently growing on trees.
So yeah. That’s where we are. Tomorrow we do the same again, and I suspect we continue to do the same until we decide to go after them, or they finally come after us. Chuck thinks they’ll come soon. Especially if Sean saw through the window how much food I have in here. There are copious amounts of cans clearly piled in plain view. He thinks they might have 200 people in their high school, and that’s a lot of desperate mouths to feed.
I don’t want a war. But I will see every last one of those motherfuckers rot before I give up what is mine.
They better bring a motherfucking army.
-Adrian
CHAPTER ONE
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The Kinless Trilogy
- Book One -
The Wrath of the Orphans
by Chris Philbrook
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“We’re almost out of time.
We need to move faster!” The young man said, panic ripe in his voice. He carried a small woman in his thin arms. Her head hung limp, and the arm not pinned against the man’s chest swung to and fro lifelessly. She was dead.
Ahead of him ran his younger sister. They’d just entered the fringe of the small village their farm was on the outside of. New Picknell. Quiet and safe New Picknell. As the son carried the dead body of his mother at a jog, the smaller sister searched out for the single home that would contain their salvation. The home of New Picknell’s lone Apostle resident.
“Catherine!” The daughter yelled, her voice cracking from the emotion she’d been expending since her mother’s death. “Catherine we need you!” They would have to cross the entire town to get to the small farm Catherine’s family lived in. Theirs was a good sized home still inside the town’s edge, still protected from solitude and the wilds of Elmoryn.
A woman stood up from her seat at a washboard, letting the wet laundry slide down into the metal basin. She saw the siblings running as fast as they could manage, and her face went pale. She reached down beside the washbasin and produced a mallet. Her lungs inflated to holler a warning, “Dead body in the city! Dead body in the city!” After screaming her warning she clutched the mallet to her chest. Her anxiety decreasing, she retreated to the safety of her home, where she shut the door, and barred it.
As the frightened pair ran through the small village the doors of homes either slammed shut, or swung open with an adult standing in the frame. Everyone was armed, and stared at the body in the boy’s arms. They feared it. They feared what it could become. They feared what it would become if their journey took too long.
“Catherine! Catherine!” The daughter screamed again, losing what was left of her already bruised voice. Other voices joined her, sharing the tremendous urgency. The screams of "Catherine!" were nearly deafening by the time they reached the dirt street that ended at the wooden fence that marked the edge of the family farm they had been seeking.
“Catherine please, come quick!” The son yelled, his arms failing. He had been carrying his dead mother for almost an hour at nearly a sprint, and his young body was well past its limit.
His voice pierced the home and a black haired woman opened the door. Her face was calm, reserved, and full of a timeless poise that instantly spread relief to all those in a panic outside her home’s fence. As she stepped outside her door and walked down the finely laid stone path to the sturdy gate she moved with purpose, and confidence. Her trip ended just as the daughter and son reached the gate. The Apostle flipped the latch on the gate and pulled it open, motioning for the son to bring the dead body to a stone bench that was curiously placed just off the stone walkway. Its purpose was not for sitting.
“How long has she been gone Nickolas?” Catherine asked calmly, gathering the fabric of her long cream colored dress to her hip. The garment flowed in the warm, late summer breeze. The stink of the dead body hadn’t yet come, and inside the yard the only scent was that of freshly cut grass.
The young man, Nickolas, panted as he put his mother’s body down on the polished granite slab. She looked very small and almost stately as he arranged her arms at her side. “I don’t know. She was hit by a rotting timber in our barn. It fell on her from the hayloft and struck her dead. We found her and came running as fast as we could. The trip here alone was an hour. She could’ve been dead for a few hours more.”
“Where is your father?” Catherine asked in a slow and steady cadence, inspecting the dead body with tender care. She had done this many times, and this was her way.
This time, the daughter replied, her voice almost entirely gone now, “He left early yesterday to bring a small harvest to the rails. He won’t be back until tomorrow at the earliest.” She coughed a dry cough and shed a thick tear down her cheek.
Catherine winced, “That’s a shame. He will be heartbroken, as I’m sure you both are.” She put a reassuring hand on the shoulders of the siblings. From the other side of the fence the town’s residents that were brave enough to watch had formed a line against the thick wood separating Catherine’s property from the town proper. Pitchforks, shovels, hammers, and even a few swords and axes were in their hands. They stared intently at the body on the granite surface just a few feet away.
From the front door of her home a brother and sister duo not unlike the ones that had just delivered their dead mother’s body walked out into the yard. The twins were tall, thin, and had hair black like their mother. They both shared clear eyes of a striking blue. They looked on from the step of the home with calm concern.
Catherine reached out and took the hands of the siblings that were now half orphaned. “Everyone gathered here please give the spirit of the recently departed Julianne a few moments of silence while I free her soul from the bonds of flesh that bind her.”
Everyone went silent, and Catherine began the service, her hands still clutching to the brother and sister.
Head lowered, her silken voice reached out beyond the veil of death, “All life is fragile. Today we learn that lesson yet again. The life of Julianne has reached its end, and despite the injustice of her being taken away from the world of the living, her legacy does not end today.”
Catherine looked up at the body, ensuring it was still on the slab before continuing, “Julianne’s immortal spirit is still within her, and in this moment we shall set her soul free from the body she had in life. She will roam these plains, and these hills forever, lending support to her friends and families and their descendents for all time. She shall hear the praise and adoration of the living as if she were still here. She shall lend Apostles a bit of her very essence, allowing us to perform The Way, and give mystical boons to those we can. In life she gave love and security, but in death she gives so much more, and she will do this forever.”
Catherine let go of the sibling’s hands as they slowly wept. They’d seen the Blessing of Soul’s rest done before, and to complete the ritual, Catherine needed both of her hands. The mother of three reached into a small pocket on the front of her dress and produced a handmade cloth bag. She retrieved a tiny vial of scented oil, and sprinkled a minute amount of herbs down the length of Julianne’s dead body. The herbs and the oil were essential components to the blessing Catherine was performing. They physically and tangibly bound her will to the act, and enabled her to use the Apostle’s version of The Way, or Elmoryn’s magic. Catherine’s magic was fueled by her latent talent to access the hundreds of thousands of ancestor spirits roaming the land. In a few moments, Julianne would join them.
When the proper number of oil drops had been applied, and the right amount of herbs placed on the right points of the body, Catherine placed her hands on Julianne’s body. The intimate connection of Apostle and body signaled the final moments of the blessing. Catherine reached out of her own body and soul, and into the body of the deceased woman. It was not unlike opening a metaphysical cage, and setting free a bird kept within. Her hands never moved, but behind her closed eyes she felt Julianne’s body shudder briefly as her spirit was set free. Her soul would not rot and fester in her body. She would not become the undead everyone gathered feared.
She took her warm fingers from the now cooling body and reached her full height. The young girl still wept, but when Catherine embraced her, she calmed quickly, feeling the relief the blessing had given them. The crowd gathered gave a quiet round of clapping as the tension faded from the afternoon. They filtered out quickly, letting the family grieve in privacy.
“Thank you,” Nickolas said.
Catherine smiled warmly, “You are very welcome. We can store the body until your father arrives, give you time to gather wood for her pyre.” Cremated bodies couldn’t be animated by rogue Necromancers, no matter how unlikely the chance of that happening was. Tradition was tradition after all, and since The Great Plague almost eradicated all human life from the face of Elmoryn three hundred years ago, all bodies were cremated.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll have Malwynn and Umaryn help with your mother’s body. In the meantime, head over to Jalen and Naomi’s over there, and let them know what’s happened. They’ll take care of you until your father returns.”
“Thank you Catherine. My mother would thank you as well,” Nick said softly, taking his little sister under his arm.
“With any luck I’ll cross paths with her spirit, and she can thank me herself. I’m glad you made it here in time.”
Nickolas could only nod. The thought of not making it to the Apostle in time was too much to contemplate.
- About The Author -
C
HRIS
P
HILBROOK is the creator and author of
Adrian’s Undead Diary
as well as the popular webfiction series
Elmoryn
and
Tesser: A Dragon Among Us
.
Chris calls the wonderful state of New Hampshire his home. He is an avid reader, writer, role player, miniatures game player, video game player, and part time athlete, as well as a member of the Horror Writers Association. If you weren't impressed enough, he also works full time while writing for Elmoryn as well as the world of Adrian’s Undead Diary and his newest project, Tesser; A Dragon Among Us.
- Find More Online -
Visit
adriansundeaddiary.com
to access additional content. Learn more about Adrian’s world, contact the author, join discussions with other readers, view maps from the story, and receive the latest news about AUD.
Check out Chris Philbrook’s official website
thechrisphilbrook.com
to keep tabs on his many exciting projects, or follow Chris on Facebook at
www.facebook.com/ChrisPhilbrookAuthor
for special announcements.
Read more by author Chris Philbrook in
The Kinless Trilogy
. Explore Elmoryn, a world of dark fantasy where death is not the end. The story begins in
Book One: The Wrath of the Orphans
, available in print, Kindle, and online. Visit
elmoryn.com
to learn more about Elmoryn, view concept art, and much more.