A Rising Storm

  A Rising

  Storm

  By

  Jeff Gunzel

  Copyright 2016 Jeff Gunzel

  Books by Jeff Gunzel

  The Legend of the Gate Keeper Series

  The Shadow

  Land of Shadows

  Siege of Night

  Lost Empire

  Reborn

  The Trials of Ashbarn

  End of Days

  Tainted Blood Series

  A Rip in Time

  Of Blood and Blade

  Winds of Chaos

  Prologue

  Angry shouts rose from the streets—calls for justice, calls for redemption, and more than one townsman demanding to see the king swing from a rope. Such defiance would have been grounds for an immediate execution on any normal day, but these days were anything but normal. The whole world seemed to have gone mad, and even the ever-confident king was beginning to bend under the pressure of it all.

  What is happening in my city? How has it come to this?

  Red-eyed, his unblinking stare fixed on the floor, the king’s mind burned with questions that seemed to have no answers. How did it all go so wrong? What could he have done to prevent all of this? Dark, violent dreams had interrupted his already fitful sleep that night. It was hard not to imagine that nights like these would be the norm for some time to come.

  “Death to the king!” came another call from outside, ringing through his chamber. The townsfolk were furious, and not the least bit apprehensive about voicing their opinions. Entire families had been slaughtered. Hungry children sat in empty homes, waiting for parents who would never return. Widows and widowers wandered the streets in a shocked haze, their new dark reality having yet to sink in. People still screamed in the streets, their wails of pain and frustration rising up in a harrowing song of torment. It was a song Milo had been forced to listen to most of the night, and probably for many nights to come.

  Nothing made sense anymore. Who were those beings riding on the backs of those giant ravens? And perhaps more importantly, why were they accompanied by his estranged wife? In a moment of distraction, she had nearly ended him. Having made a royal game of her exile, it never occurred to the king she might actually survive out in the wilderness. Let alone that she may end up joining these strange, winged riders from a land far away. Yes, the world had truly gone mad indeed.

  I’ve underestimated you, Bella. I should have taken your head when I had the chance.

  The king rose from his seat and made his way towards the open window. Tempting as it was, he still refused to close it. Strangely, a part of him needed to hear the people’s enraged cries. He was the king! He would not shy away from their outrage. Not now, not ever. This too would blow over. And when the dust finally settled, he would still be king. Anger alone would not challenge his crown. Still, he needed real answers before even attempting to face this mob.

  “Your Highness.”

  “What?” The king turned with a start. “No one is to enter these quarters unannounced!”

  The man bowed his head in apology. “I rapped on the door, Your Highness. Three times, in fact. It seems you were,” he glanced around at the empty room with no people or activity anywhere to be seen, “preoccupied, sir.” The king’s heated glare prompted him to get on with it. “As instructed, the men have worked right through the night. They have collected all the bodies.”

  “How many?” the king asked, his tone becoming somber with the dark topic.

  “Impossible to say,” the man replied. Nervously, his leg pivoted on the ball of his foot, his eyes falling to the floor. The simple question had obviously made him uncomfortable. “Many are not even...intact...Your Highness. They are...parts...more than bodies. All we know for certain is that ten wagons were needed to contain all the remains. On your order, we shall allow the townsfolk to begin identifying their loved ones.”

  “I gave no such order,” the king corrected.

  “But Your Highness, how do you expect the townsfolk to pay their final respects? Arrangements must be made. They have the right to—”

  “They have the right to go on with their lives,” Milo growled. “My orders are as follow: you and the others will take those remains out into the desert and bury them in an unmarked mass grave. You will set out immediately and be back before sundown.”

  “Sir,” he said softly, daring to question his king. “If you do this, there will be an uprising. The people will—”

  The king stepped forward, snatching him by the collar. Clutching the man in one hand, he dragged him across the carpet and shoved half his body out the window, feet kicking upward as he almost fell out.

  “And what do you think is happening right now?!” the king pointed, pushing him out even further, his weight barely balanced across the windowsill. A light push one way or the other could easily decide his fate. “Look at them!”

  The terrified man lifted his head, gazing down at the angry mob down below. They waved torches, banged wooden spoons on pots. A line of soldiers held them at bay, but the task did not look like an easy one. Sorely outnumbering them, the crowd could probably overwhelm the soldiers if they built up enough nerve to try.

  The king yanked him back in, sending him toppling down to the floor. Despite the hard landing, he seemed plenty relieved to be back inside. “My soldiers are barely able to contain this as it is. Providing visual evidence of their family members torn to pieces will do nothing but cause more tension at a time when we can least afford it. Do you not agree?” It wasn’t really a question, but the man nodded vigorously anyway. “You have your orders. Now make this go away. Off with you!”

  The man scrambled back to his feet and bolted for the door. Halfway out, he hooked the inner portion of the doorway and stopped, shot a fist with his free hand, then reluctantly turned back. It was obvious he wanted to end this conversation and leave, but unfortunately he had also forgotten one last detail. “What of the prisoners down below?” he asked. “They’ve been at it for quite some time now. How much longer should our men continue?”

  That almost seemed to bring a smile to the troubled king’s face. “Until I say otherwise.”

  * * *

  Naked, teeth chattering uncontrollably, frosty puffs of steam burst from Assirra’s lips with each labored breath. She gasped as another bucket of ice-cold water doused her backside, making her body go rigid as she rose up on her toes. Bluish lips trembling, she slid back down the stone wall, hands rising as the chains cuffing her wrists ran out of slack.

  “Leave the High Cleric alone! Touch her again and I’ll—” Thatra shrieked, thrashing against her own chains just a few feet away. But an icy wet blast silenced her, forcing her knees to buckle under her own weight. Arms rising as she sank, she spit out a mouthful of cold water, lips trembling. “Give me her share instead,” she said, eyelids fluttering as if she might be losing consciousness. “Do what you want to me. Just leave her alone,” she mumbled softly, as if hardly aware she was still speaking.

  “Do any of you gentlemen suspect our answers might change if you continue this torture?” Liam asked, rattling his chains.

  “Bah, they be nothing but trained dogs doing what they’re told,” Owen added. Chained to a spot on the wall near Liam, the hunter glared at the soldier in front of him holding a fresh bucket. “Go on then,” he grumbled, eyes narrowing. “Do as the master says. Don’t bother thinking for ye self. Your job isn’t to think, it’s to obey. They be doing the thinking for you.” Instead of throwing the water, the soldier backed off a step. Naked like the rest of them, having already been doused several times with the freezing water, aside from his lips turning blue, Owen displayed no real effects from the water torture. In fact, he appeared to be downright ready for more.

  �
�Is this how the mighty city of Shadowfen conducts all their investigations?” Liam asked. Unlike Owen, his teeth were chattering so hard he could barely speak. Still, the tall man held his head high. Even trembling from the cold, he would not look away from his captors. “Force a confession through torture even if the suspects are innocent of any crime? I assume this will continue until we begin giving you information we never knew to begin with.”

  “Wrong,” came a voice from above. Down the steps stomped a pair of black boots, each step slow and deliberate. The king stood there for a time, measuring each of them in turn with a scowl. “You will tell me all that you do know, and I will be the one to decide which of you is lying and which is telling the truth.”

  “And I assume this mockery of a trial is what passes for law here in Shadowfen?” Liam spat.

  The king stepped closer, openly regarding the shivering old man. “I prefer to think of it as forced justice,” he snarled in Liam’s face. “Liam Trundric...mystic of Redwater,” he added, stepping back. “Yes, I know of the rogue mystic without a home. What I don’t know is why you brought this blight into my city.”

  The king stepped over to Owen. “Owen Dunwich, famed Demon Hunter who wanders the realm offering his brand of violence to the highest bidder.” It was somewhat surprising to see him identify Liam so easily, but not so much with Owen. People near and far knew of the Demon Hunter. “Owen the hunter, traitor to his own race.”

  “Demons fear me for good reason, but not humans,” Owen corrected. “But me thinks there may well be a lone exception to the rule in the near future.” A hard right from the king found Owen’s ribs. He wheezed briefly, then stood up straight and smiled at the king. If that nearly toothless smile irritated Milo in the least, it didn’t show. However, the king couldn’t help but flex his fingers. Punching the hunter was much like punching a wall. It wasn’t likely the wall got the worst of it.

  “And what have we over here?” the king said, turning his attention to the women. He stepped between them, ogling their naked green bodies. “Tarrins, I believe you’re called?”

  “We’ve done nothing wrong!” Thatra said, trying to twist sideways to elude his wandering eyes. She was still shivering but had regained some of her strength.

  “That has yet to be determined,” he replied absently, turning his attention to Assirra. Being taller than the king, she arched her back, turning her head away as he drew closer. “I can’t help but wonder,” he said quietly, one hand touching her curled horn as the other slid up between her legs. “How different are you tarrins from our women? The parts that count seem to be similar, at least.” Assirra pinched her knees together, effectively trapping his hand. She whimpered in disgust, twisting her hips back and forth to elude his probing fingers.

  “Don’t touch her!” Thatra shouted, her energy fully renewed at seeing her leader treated in such a vile manner. Her chains rang out in protest as she thrashed, the muscles on her arms bulging with tension. Soldiers in the room backed away, suddenly not so sure those chains were going to hold. But the king ignored her, continuing to fondle the helpless cleric.

  “Enough of this!” Liam protested, rattling his own chains but with nowhere near the same effect. “What is it you want from us?”

  “To know why thousands of my people have just been slaughtered!” the king roared, abandoning the tarrin and storming back up to Liam. “I want to know why you four led those creatures right to our front gates!”

  “And like we’ve told your soldiers time and time again, we had nothing to do with that,” Owen said. “We tried to protect you! You saw that yourself. We are not working with the ghatins.”

  “Then explain your relationship with Viola,” the king hissed. The startled look on Owen’s face betrayed his thoughts. “Yes, I know of that too. Your trail of beaten thugs was a hard thing not to notice. Did you think the legendary Demon Hunter, asking questions in dark alleys while kicking in heads, would truly go unnoticed?” Owen’s shoulders sank. There wasn’t much he could say. “Yes, I had spies watching the inn for quite some time.”

  He turned back to Liam. “A little old man buying drinks for soldiers in exchange for privileged information had been seen in many a tavern. Did you honestly think you could pull off such a trick right under my nose, within my own city?” Liam swallowed. “I’ll have you know that every soldier who spoke to you has already lost his head.” Liam’s heart sank. He had just been seeking information about his friend. None of those soldiers deserved to die. “Yes, I have been watching all of you for some time. So why did I let it continue for so long?”

  The king paced away, head up as if considering his own question. “Curiosity,” he admitted, tapping his chin with his index finger. “You were all working so hard to keep your scheming a secret that I became captivated by your deception. The discovery of a second creature such as Viola was fascinating in and of itself. But once I discovered she had human allies as well, I became truly intrigued.” He gestured back towards the far wall. “Somehow you’ve talked the tarrins into helping you.” He then motioned to Owen. “As well as tricked the famous Demon Hunter. That surprised me the most. There was a time when he was highly thought of, respected even, the ruling class. Diplomacy has been known to fail from time to time. During such rare occurrences, it was nice to know that we could call upon such a figure when a little muscle was needed to set things right.”

  “A tool to be used by the cowards at the top,” Owen grunted.

  “But a useful tool nonetheless,” the king continued. “It’s painful to watch, really. A mighty warrior now reduced to a common criminal.” He turned back to Liam. “Had I known this was all a plan to have my city destroyed, I would have put an end to it much earlier. For that, I accept responsibility for something I should have sniffed out earlier.”

  “The plan was to protect Viola!” Liam protested.

  “Your plan was to protect my future champion? Ridiculous.”

  “As ridiculous as two tarrins traveling with two humans to help defend a rare being who you yourself have only seen two of in your entire life?” Thatra interrupted. “You actually believe anyone would go to such lengths just to produce some elaborate ruse to fool a king? If it weren’t for us, even more of your townsfolk would have died.”

  “If it weren’t for you, none of them would have died!” the king shot back.

  “Your Majesty,” Liam said softly, trying to calm everyone down. “I know how crazy all this must sound. But you must believe us. Our mission was always to protect Viola from the ghatins. The ghatins—”

  “Are who sent you!” the king boomed, resolute in his assumption. The unstable king’s wild mood swings were legendary, and here he was doing nothing to shed that reputation. “You are all nothing but spies, a distraction to divert my attention away from the real threat. Viola herself was in on this, wasn’t she?”

  Liam’s arms went straight as his body went limp. There was no reasoning with this man. Even if the truth hadn’t sounded crazy, the king’s mind was made up anyway. Liam had seen this before. Somebody would have to pay for this tragedy. That somebody would be them.

  “Which brings me to my final question,” the king said. “Where are the other two? Where are Viola and Jarlen?”

  Liam sighed. “We don’t know. You saw the same thing we did. Jarlen fought through your men to get away, and Viola rode off into the sky with those other beings.”

  “And I assume you have no idea who they were either?” the king mocked. Liam didn’t answer. Of course they really didn’t, but why even bother explaining that? They were the chosen scapegoats, and no amount of explanation would get them out of this.

  The king moved close to Liam, their faces mere inches apart. “I’ll ask you one last time,” he growled. “Where are they? Viola in particular.” Knowing there was no acceptable answer he could give, Liam just turned his head and looked away. He really had no idea where they were now, but that didn’t seem to matter. Ironic, really. In large, the king was seek
ing answers to the same questions they were.

  The king burst into laughter and spun away. “Very well, then,” he said, throwing his hand in the air. “Have it your way. Sooner or later one of you will speak. But until then...” He gestured to the guards as he made his way back towards the steps. On cue, the icy baths continued with no end in sight.

  Chapter 1

  Heart pounding, fingers aching as he gripped his horse’s mane, Xavier blazed across the countryside with breakneck speed. He rode the animal hard, pushing the beast to its absolute limits, then pushing even more. Hooves pounding along at a heavy gallop, coils of rising dust spiraled up behind them. The wheezing horse pushed on, foam frothing from its wide-open mouth.

  “Yah,” Xavier called, digging his heels into its ribs. Cuts and scrapes crisscrossed Xavier’s face from speeding right through so many low-hanging branches, obstacles that could have easily been avoided had he shown even a modest amount of caution. But even a few seconds lost here and there were not a luxury to be wasted on self-preservation. No resource was to be spared in finding Viola, and certainly not one as precious as time.

  The fleet of giant birds that carried her away had disappeared from sight long ago. The only thing he knew for certain was that they had been heading straight north, so that was the direction he would ride. He could still see her face, the sadness in her eyes before she turned away from him and mounted that bird. Although she was only doing what she thought was right, he had once again been a step too slow. He could have stopped her. He could have pointed out how dangerous a choice it was to ride off with these strange beings. He could have—

  “Yah...faster.” What if those beings were actually working for the ghatins? There was no guarantee that they weren’t. Why, they might just deliver her right to their lair! Foolish girl! Why didn’t you listen to me? No matter, I will still find you. I won’t let anyone take you away from me again, not those beings you ran off with, not the ghatins, nobody! “Yah... Yah... Yah.” His heels dug in, urgency driving him on. He had to reach her before anything could happen to her. He had to— “Yah.”