Death and Honor: Book 1 of 2 (8 page)

A few minutes passed and he had nothing but the chirping of crickets for company. He closed his eyes and yawned. When he opened them a beautiful red haired woman in a mottled gray and brown cloak sat on the second block.

She smiled, revealing perfect pearly white teeth. “Hello, Jeremiah Kane.”

J
eremiah blinked
to assure himself the woman was really there. “I assume you’re the one who slipped that note under my door?”

She nodded and he noted the hilt of a sword jutting up by her ear. “Yes, I knew you’d come. You have many questions and I will do my best to answer them. Bumbling around in the dark as you’ve been you will only get yourself killed.”

“Alzado, was it my fault they killed him?”

“The sage, yes, the guardian told me they killed him. That’s too bad. He was a kind old man. I suppose it was your fault in a way. If you hadn’t taken the scroll to him he would certainly still be alive.”

Jeremiah nodded, his respect for this woman raising a notch. “From the way you spoke I take it you knew him.”

“We met in passing. He was visiting the guardian and I passed him on his way out.”

“Who is this guardian you keep mentioning and who are you for that matter? We’ve never met yet you seem to know me.”

“How terribly rude of me,” the woman got to her feet and held out her hand. “I’m Kiera Oakshadow, Druid of the Winter Wood.”

Jeremiah shook her hand. “You’re a long way from home. The Winter Wood must be five hundred miles north.”

“You’re familiar with my home?”

He shook his head. “Only its location on a map. The guardian?”

She sighed. “Back to business. You know the Church of the Bright Shield?”

“Of course, it was the first church consecrated when Lord’s Way was founded. They thought dedicating the city to a god of protection and vigilance would keep it safe.”

“I’m impressed. I doubt one in a hundred living in your city would be aware of that. The guardian is the high priest of the Bright Shield in Lord’s Way.”

Confused now Jeremiah said, “How does a Druid of the Winter Wood know the high priest of a city hundreds of miles from the forest?”

“Perhaps I should begin at the beginning.”

“Please, I’m drowning here.” Jeremiah tossed a piece of wood on the fire.

“Hundreds of years ago,” she said. “A powerful sorcerer was sent to this world by demonic agents and charged with its conquest. This sorcerer began quietly, fomenting war and chaos where he could, finding allies among the wicked and greedy. He built a secret army and when the nations had exhausted themselves fighting each other he would lead them in a final battle to conquer the world. He was well on his way to succeeding when four warriors from four different nations came together to fight him.”

“Wait,” Jeremiah said. “I’ve heard this story. You’re talking about the legend of the four paladins. I must have read it to my boys a dozen times. The four warriors come together to kill the sorcerer and bring peace to the world. It’s supposed to be about how people of different backgrounds can come together to solve big problems. Are you saying the legend is true?”

“Not in every detail. All stories change over time, but there were four warriors from different nations, each the chosen of a different power, and they did oppose a half-demon sorcerer hundreds of years ago. Unfortunately, as powerful as they were, they didn’t have strength enough to kill him. Instead they were forced to imprison him, sacrificing themselves in the process. Like any prison this one has a door with a lock, and that lock has a key.”

“That’s what was in the chest, the key to this prison.”

“A fragment of it, yes. After the door was sealed the key fell into four pieces. Each piece a fragment of one of the four paladins’ souls. When they died forming the prison, each paladin had a squire who took a key fragment and swore to protect it and eventually to train a successor. Over time three of the protectors have fallen and the key fragments taken by minions of the sorcerer, demons and their human servants. The fragment you recovered is the final piece of the key.”

“How did you come by it?” Jeremiah couldn’t picture this slender young woman as a squire to a knight.

“I reclaimed it from one of the demon’s servants, an alchemist that has been infused with demonic energy. That’s why I’m so far from home. The Oakfather sent me a vision of this man claiming the key. I had to get it from him before he turned it over to his master.”

Jeremiah got up and paced. “So what you’re telling me is that a demon killed Alzado to keep him from translating the scroll, but what they really want is a piece of some magical key that’s in the chest I took from the leader of the bandits.”

“Basically, yes, the guardian believes there are no more than three or four demons operating in the area of Lord’s Way, but they may have many times that many humans under their control. The Heavenly Host has no angels in Lord’s Way and only two infused humans to try to stop the demons.”

“Infused humans,” Jeremiah sat back down. “You said something about that earlier. What exactly does it mean?”

“Ordinary humans can’t do magic, the closest we’ve gotten is alchemy, but that just alters mundane substances. True magic is the realm of angels and demons. These beings can infuse a portion of their power into human allies allowing them to perform feats of magic.”

“Two human’s serving the angles, that’s you and the guardian, right?”

She nodded. “I was granted my powers by the Oakfather, and the guardian received his powers from the Bright Shield. We’ve both done what we could to slow the demons and their servants but neither of us received much in the way of offensive powers.”

“What powers did you receive?”

“As a servant of the Oakfather I can speak to animals and see through their eyes, I can also fade from sight, but only when I’m in a natural setting.”

Jeremiah raised an eyebrow at that.

She smiled and slowly disappearing. “Told you so,” her voice came from empty air.

He shook his head. “That’s amazing.”

She reappeared, still sitting on the block. “It’s a useful trick, nothing more.”

“I thought you said angles granted these powers, the Oakfather is a god, isn’t he?”

“That is a common misunderstanding. There are no gods as you think of them. The beings most refer to as gods are just the most powerful of the angels and demons. In truth most are so powerful it isn’t inappropriate to refer to them as gods.”

“So how many of you are there?”

She looked into the fire and shook her head. “Not nearly enough. Those fused with demonic power outnumber us four or more to one. We’re forced to use stealth and trickery to hold them at bay.”

“Why don’t the angles infuse more people, even the odds?”

“It’s not so simple. To gain demonic power all you need to do is be willing to sell your soul. An angel will only grant power to one it is convinced will use it for the good of humankind. That list is far too short.” She paused, head cocked. “Did you hear—” An explosion rocked the clearing. She lunged forward and shoved him away from the fire just as a ball of flame shot into the clearing. It detonated right where they’d been sitting, the heat searing Jeremiah lungs.

“What the hell?” Jeremiah said

Kiera grabbed his tunic and yanked him toward the trees. They backpedaled as fast as they could. Another fireball streaked into the clearing, exploding a few yards from them, the heat scorching Jeremiah’s legs. When they were out of the clearing Kiera put her arm across him and a tingle pass through his body.

“I’ve made us invisible,” she whispered in his ear.

A tall, gaunt figure walked into the clearing, a voluminous black cloak swirled around him. “Come out, come out, little druid.” The figure looked in their direction and a chill ran through Jeremiah, its eyes were pits of swirling flame. The glow from its burning eyes revealed a face so emaciated it resembled a skull with paper glued to it.

“That’s the alchemist I stole the fragment from,” Kiera whispered in his ear. “He’s been hunting me ever since. I thought I lost him far from here.”

“Perhaps he followed me,” Jeremiah said.

“No, I was far to the east of Three Streams when I left him behind.”

The alchemist held out his hand, the flesh charred and blackened as though burned in a fire. A ball of flame appeared above his hand and he flung it at random into the forest. It detonated well to their left.

“He’s going to find us eventually,” Jeremiah said.

He felt as much as heard Kiera’s sigh. “I never dared fight him. His powers make any battle between us a grim prospect for me. Maybe together we have a better chance.”

“What do you want me to do?” Jeremiah asked. He had no doubt the abomination in the clearing needed to be destroyed.

“I’ll circle around and draw his attention. When I leave, you’ll become visible. Don’t worry he still shouldn’t be able to see you with all this brush. As soon as he turns away you have to attack and keep attacking. As long as he can’t concentrate he can’t use his powers. Hesitate and we both die.”

“I’ll be ready.”

She moved away to the right, slipping silently through the forest. Another fireball exploded, this one far enough away he didn’t notice the heat of the explosion. The seconds ticked away, punctuated by an occasional explosion. If she didn’t hurry the monster would hit one of them by accident.

Something thunked and the alchemist turned and flung another fireball. The moment it looked away Jeremiah scrambled to his feet and charged, drawing his sword as he went. The alchemist spun around, arm raised to block Jeremiah’s sword.

Vibrations ran down Jeremiah arm when his sword struck and instead of the monster’s arm falling to the ground his sword bounced off like he’d struck an iron bar. The alchemist snarled and batted the sword away. Jeremiah hacked at him again, not giving the creature a chance to think.

The alchemist blocked each swing like his razor sharp blade was nothing more than a child’s toy. Jeremiah gave up all pretense of skill and rained blow after blow down on the alchemist, anything to keep him distracted.

The alchemist took a step back, snarling. Perhaps it was weakening. That thought sped strength through Jeremiah’s tired arms. He put everything he had into an overhead chop. The sword bit and the monster’s arm fell to the ground. Roaring more in anger than pain the alchemist struck Jeremiah with his other hand, sending him flying halfway across the clearing. The air burst out of his lungs on impact. Not allowing himself a moment Jeremiah scrambled to his feet, just in time to see the alchemist bend down, pick up his severed arm, and touch it to the stump. In a burst of flame the severed arm reconnected and the alchemist made a fist with it just like Jeremiah hadn’t lopped it off a second before.

How could he beat such a creature? The answer appeared when Kiera’s scimitar struck the side of the alchemist’s neck, half decapitating it. Jeremiah raced forward and hit the other side, the creature’s head fell to the ground. The body fell limp to the ground a few feet away. The monster’s eyes still glowed.

“Is it over?” Jeremiah asked.

“Over!” the head shrieked. “You think you’ve won? Pathetic mortal you’ve won nothing. When my master is free he will consume this world in flames and blood.” The creature’s high pitched cackles echoed through the forest. Kiera toed the head into the fire. The laughter didn’t stop until the head was reduced to ash.

Jeremiah righted one of the blocks of wood and sat. “I’m glad that’s over.”

“Yes, we were lucky.”

“Lucky?” Jeremiah rubbed his aching ribs. He didn’t feel lucky.

She nodded. “He was only a minor servant. If we had fought one of the more powerful acolytes I fear the outcome would have been far different. You must return home, now. The others will be coming. Get your family and the key fragment to the guardian. He will keep you safe.”

“Minor servant?”

“There is no time, Jeremiah Kane. Now that the demons are aware we have spoken they will come for you. There is no time to waste.”

“How could they? This thing only showed up moments ago. He didn’t have time to send a message.”

“That’s exactly what he did. Master and servant are connected, mind to mind. What one knows the other knows. The instant the alchemist saw us the demons knew. You must hurry. It may be too late even now. Hurry, get to the guardian, he’s the only one that can protect you.”

One look at Kiera’s grim face and Jeremiah was running through the forest back to Three Streams. The men wouldn’t like setting out in the middle of the night, but Jeremiah didn’t care if they cursed him to every god, make that demon, in hell. He wouldn’t feel safe until Alexandra and the boys were inside the Church of the Bright Shield.

G
abriel and Xander
walked down the stairs to the great room, their day’s lesson finished. Mother had gone easy on them today so they finished well before lunch. “Want to go fishing?” Gabriel asked.

“Maybe later,” Xander said. “The cook’s baking blueberry tarts and I want one. Go on ahead, I’ll catch up.”

Gabriel shook his head. “Why do you insist on stealing those tarts? You know it drives Father crazy.”

Xander grinned. Driving Father crazy was just a bonus. “It’s a game. If I get a tart I win. If the cook catches me he wins and I don’t get a tart. No big deal, no one gets hurt, just a little fun.”

The boys walked past the kitchen and Xander sniffed, cinnamon and brown sugar. “Not long now.”

Gabriel frowned and looked away as though Xander’s rule breaking was catching. Xander laughed. They went out the front doors and Xander led the way around the house.

“Sure you won’t change your mind?” Gabriel asked.

“Yeah, go on. I won’t be long. Want me to bring you a tart?”

“Why not? Then we can both be in trouble.”

When his brother was out of sight Xander hunted around the base of the wall until he found the loose panel. He popped the panel off, pulled his boot dagger, and crawled into the tunnel. He’d discovered it years ago while exploring on his own. Even Gabriel didn’t know about his secret place.

Xander crawled down the tunnel, dagger held in a firm grip; he’d seen a rat on an earlier trip and didn’t want to run into the beast again unarmed. The tunnel was cool and damp, fresh cobwebs brushed across his face. At the end of the tunnel Xander gathered his legs under him and stood up, lifting the trapdoor.

He found himself in a large room surrounded by sacks of flower, sugar and potatoes. Careful remain silent Xander set the trapdoor aside and tiptoed to the storage room door. Through the crack the cook’s off key singing grated in his ears. The man was completely tone deaf. He stopped singing and Xander opened the door a couple inches. The cook was bent over taking the tarts out of the oven. He closed the door before the cook turned around, not long now.

G
orn and Ick
appeared beside the human mercenaries their master sent. They were a quarter mile from the knight’s estate in a clearing in the forest. They had orders to kill everyone, level the place, and bring back the key fragment. The first two tasks would be simple for the demon led force, but the third would be harder. The chest was shielded, protecting the fragment from detection.

“I will begin my search,” Ick said. He flew away, turning invisible as he went.

Gorn looked down at the mass of humanity before him. He projected his thoughts into their puny minds.
Go. Kill everyone and take whatever you like
.

The mercenaries drew their weapons and charged toward the estate. Gorn followed behind to discourage any retreat and to slaughter any survivors. It took only minutes for the mercenaries to clear the forest and seconds after that a shout went up from one of the sharp eyed soldiers patrolling the estate.

The soldiers gathered in front of the largest building, forming a tight defensive line. More soldiers gathered into the formation, ready to repel the mercenaries. Gorn allowed himself a toothy smile. The human’s discipline would make his task easier.

When the trickle of solders stopped the demon gathered his power and hurled a ball of fire at the massed formation. It exploded on impact, bodies, some in pieces, some whole; all charred and dead went flying. With their formation broken the mercenaries fell on the survivors without mercy. Behind them the building burned.

A
lexandra came running
downstairs when she heard the explosion. She reached the entryway just as two score soldiers led by Sergeant Marcus burst through and slammed the door behind them. “What’s going on?”

“We’re under attack,” Marcus said. “The bandits are led by a demon.”

“A demon?” She arched a disbelieving eyebrow.

“I know not what else to call the beast, my lady. When we formed our defensive line it hurled a ball of fire that near roasted me where I stood.”

She raised a hand to her mouth. “Gods, the boys. Has anyone seen them?”

One of the solders looked up from barricading the door. “I saw master Gabriel headed toward the lake earlier, my lady.”

“Xander?”

He shook his head.

“Xander’s a bright lad,” Marcus said. “He’ll find a place to hide until we clear this mess up.”

X
ander grabbed
a pair of tarts then the house shook. Flames burst through the windows. He dropped the tarts and ran back into the closet. In the distance men shouted and steel rang on steel. He frowned, it sounded like they were under attack.

Flames fully engulfed the kitchen. It was time to go. Xander went back into the crawlspace, not bothering with the trapdoor, if someone found his secret so be it. He crawled down the short tunnel, coughing from the smoke that leaked through the floor boards. Light from the exit filled the end of the tunnel. Something crunched. He looked up as a piece of floor gave way, crashed down clipping the side of his head. Everything spun then went dark.

G
abriel leapt
to his feet when the explosion rattled the trees. In the distance smoke rose, thick and black from home. He dropped his pole and ran. He reached the edge of the woods in record time. His home in flames stopped him as surely as if he’d run into a brick wall. The main house burned, flames leapt from the windows, and black smoke billowed out from under the eaves. In pockets here and there soldiers battled ragged men he’d never seen before.

Silhouetted by the burning house was a horrific creature beyond anything Gabriel had ever imagined. The mere sight of it rooted him in place, his heart racing, pulse pounding in his ears. It had broad wings like a bat and black scales covered every inch. One soldier struck it and sparks flew but the monster never flinched. It tore the man’s chest open with talons like kitchen knives.

Gabriel wanted to run over there and kill that monster; he wanted to scream for his mother and brother who burned to death; he wanted to do anything but stand there like a coward and watch men he’d know his whole life fight and be slaughtered, but he couldn’t move. Some force held him fast. He turned his head and took in the panorama of death and destruction but he could do nothing except watch his world end.

After several minutes of watching horsemen came thundering down the road, on the lead horse he could just make out his father’s familiar cloak billowing. He tried to scream, to warn him to turn back, to run away, but he couldn’t make a sound. Not that it would have mattered. His father would no more run from battle then he would have cut his own throat. No matter the odds he would do his duty as a knight.

Father charged through the strangers, sword flashing. Three of the attackers were soon down. The monster chose that moment to turn its head toward the riders. It tossed the remains of a solder aside like so much garbage and tuned to his father.

Gabriel tried to scream a warning but Father seemed to see the beast coming. He whirled his sword over his head and urged his horse forward. Gabriel’s heart swelled and for a moment he allowed himself the lie that his father might defeat the beast. That happy fiction lasted only seconds. The monster snatched Father out of his saddle like he weighed nothing. Fire blazed from the creature’s hands and reduced Father to ash.

Tears streamed down Gabriel’s face and the battlefield blurred. Like a zombie he walked to a thick cluster of bushes and burrowed his way inside. He curled up in a ball and wept like a baby.