Among the Fallen Swords

Among the Fallen Swords

Book two of the Among the Masses series

A.R. Wise

Copyright 2014 – A.R. Wise

Cover Art by A.R. Wise with photo sourced from istockphoto.com

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Deadlocked 1 : David was caught in the middle of the city when the zombie outbreak started. His wife and daughters were at home, stranded on the roof as zombies waited below. He would have to fight through hordes of undead, merciless other survivors, and a series of death-defying stunts to get home. However, even if he makes it there, how can he be sure they're safe?

314 Book 1 : Alma Harper has been trying to forget what happened in Widowsfield 16 years ago. She has a good life as a music teacher now, and might rekindle her relationship with her one true love. However, the number 314 haunts her, and threatens to bring her back to the day that her brother disappeared. When a reporter shows up, just days before March 14th, Alma realizes that her past is coming back to haunt her. What happened on March 14th, at 3:14, 16 years ago? No one but The Skeleton Man can remember.

Deadlocked Series

Deadlocked 1

Deadlocked 2

Deadlocked 3

Deadlocked 4

Deadlocked Complete First Series (1-4)

Deadlocked 5 – Aftermath

Deadlocked 6 – Uprising

Deadlocked 7 – Legacies

Deadlocked 8 – Sons of Reagan

Deadlocked Broken Pieces 1-3

Widowsfield Trilogy

314

314 Book 2

314 Book 3

Legacy of Bathory Series

Daughter of Bathory

Hounds of Bathory (Coming Soon)

Short Story Compilation

Sex, Drugs, and Dead Things

Chapter One – Payter’s Return

Did you hear that? asked Blythe as she sat up from bed. Her husband was snoring beside her, blissfully asleep. She shook him awake. Danny, did you hear that?

Whatcha? Who? Nine have mercy, woman. What’s the matter? He wiped the drool from his lips and then looked over at his wife as she sat beside him, staring out the window.

It was still dark, hours before dawn, and the moonlight was shrouded by a thin layer of clouds. The crickets chirped, and the wheat rustled as the breeze swept across the Steel Plains and up to their cottage on the outskirts of Sailor’s Rock. It would’ve been an unremarkable night if not for Blythe’s sudden terror.

Someone’s creeping out there in the field. She was clutching her blanket to her chin as if preparing to duck beneath it. Despite living on the plains for the better part of a half-century, Blythe was still easily frightened by the perils she insisted were hiding in wait beyond their fields.

You drank too much. You’re just hearing things, said Danny as he turned to his other side, fluffed his pillow, and tried to get comfortable again. Go back to sleep.

Blythe gripped his arm and shook him again, but he refused to pay attention to her. She had to pinch him to get a reaction. I’m not just hearing things! Well, I am hearing things, and that’s exactly the point. Get your lazy ass up and go see if something’s out there.

The dogs aren’t even barking, said Danny. You probably just heard a coyote muckering about. Go back to sleep.

That’s no coyote. I heard a man’s voice.

You’re dreaming of men again, like usual. He coyly nudged her.

Would you take me serious for once in your damn life? Get up! She punched at his back and he had no choice but to capitulate. Go look out the window. See if there’s someone out there.

It’s the middle of the night.

Then burn the steamer and get the lights on in the field.

Danny sat up, groaned, and then said, Those are for emergencies only. You know that.

This is an emergency, said Blythe. There’s someone sneaking around twenty feet from our window, doing who-knows-what; probably planning to murder us in our sleep. She was trying to whisper while still sounding urgent and angry, turning her words into sharp exhalations.

And what if it’s a Drake on his way out to Sailor’s Rock? How would it look if we start firing the steamer and glowing like a bonfire out here? You want to get us hauled off to court?

There hasn’t been a Drake out here for damn near two decades.

That’s not what I heard, said Danny as he rubbed his eyes. The Kessels sent some Swords out to the old barracks in town. People are saying the Drakes are coming back because of The Scholar. With our luck, it’ll be a Drake in the field when we fire up the steamer.

Would you stop arguing with…

They were both silenced by the distinct moan of a man outside. The dogs heard it too, and they awoke with a burst of energy and anger as they charged out to investigate, barking as they went.

See! Blythe pulled the clovers closer, hiding her nose as she chastised her husband. What did I tell you?

Danny got out of bed, grabbed a mace from beside the bedroom door, and then headed for the open window. Hush up, he said to his wife as he peered out into the large yard preceding the wheat field. They owned the farm furthest south of Sailor’s Rock, along the path that led to the crossroads. They frequently had visits from travelers looking for supplies after a long journey, but never in the middle of the night.

What do you see? asked Blythe. Is it a zombie? A goblin? Is it a dwarf? What is it?

Would you hush up for a dang second? I don’t see a thing. Rider and Bale went out to the fence, they’re running up and down it. He watched as their two hounds continued to bark and pace the length of the fence that divided their yard from the field beyond.

You think it’s The Scholar? asked Blythe, her dread evident as she cowered with the blanket pulled up to her nose, her black eyes gazing over the edge.

The Scholar? What are you on about? Stop listening to the merchants and the smugglers. The Scholar’s headed for the Walls.

You don’t know that, said Blythe. He’s out there rustling bones, building an army. You heard about what happened in Everglen. Before long his army’s going to make their way here too. They say he’s nothing but a walking skeleton, all wrapped up in leather and wearing a mask with glass eyes – some sort of devil from the pits. Danny, he’s out there right now. I just know it.

Quit with that nonsense. It’s probably some stumbling drunkard, looking for a place to pass out.

He stood at the window watching as Bale and Rider continued to bark and run up and down the length of the wooden fence. Danny squinted in an attempt to see deeper into the field, but the pervading darkness hid everything but the first row of wavering stalks of wheat. I can’t see anything out there. Maybe the dogs chased him off.

Blythe finally gathered the courage to get out from beneath the covers and scoot over to the side of the bed closest to the window. She gazed out past Danny, but couldn’t see anything beyond Rider. The younger of their two beastly dogs was standing on his back feet with his massive paws resting on the top of the fence, barking and growling at something in the field.

Where’s Bale? asked Blythe as she got out of bed. Her toes set down on the cool wood floor, and she inched her way closer to her husband. She couldn’t see their second dog anywhere.

He’s down over there, said Danny as he pointed to the far side of the yard at the dog that was laying quietly in the corner. He must’ve gotten himself a rabbit or something to keep him busy.

Rider stopped barking, but continued to pace the yard, growling as he went. He lingered near Bale, sniffing at the still dog before pacing again. Blythe shook her head and pointed over at Bale. Something’s wrong. Bale’s not moving.

Rider yelped in pain before Danny could respond. The dog ran from the fence, moving in a quick circle that ended with him looking out at the field a few feet further into the yard than he’d been. He staggered, and then dropped, huffing and whimpering.

Blythe screeched in panic and said, Fire the steamer!

All right, said Danny as he rushed through the room to the den where the electric generator was hidden beneath a blanket. Blythe followed behind, whimpering as she ducked low to avoid being seen through the windows. She berated Danny for not believing her as he took off the blanket and then opened the latch to the base of the steam engine. The reservoir’s nearly empty, said Danny. Get the tea pot.

It’s got tea in it from yesterday, she said.

So? It’ll still boil. Just go get it.

Blythe whimpered in protest, but did as he asked. She crawled across the room, keeping her eyes on the window as she went, and got to the stove where the kettle was. Danny was lighting the fire beneath the generator’s reservoir, and the straw began to smoke as he fanned the embers. Blythe brought the kettle back to him and he unscrewed the cap of the tin reservoir before pouring a small amount of the tea inside.

How long’s it going to take? asked Blythe, eager for the darkness to be lifted.

A few minutes, said Danny as he set the kettle down and picked his mace back up. You stay here. I’ll go wait by the door in case anyone tries to get in. When the tea starts boiling, go ahead and put a little more in, but not too much. All right? If you put too much in it’ll stop boiling and the lights’ll dim.

Wait, said Blythe as she grasped at her husband’s nightshirt. Can’t we just crank it? I didn’t think we had to wait for the steam.

The crank’s rusted off, said Danny.

Well that’s just great. That’s what you get for buying second-hand goods, Danny. Now we’re going to get murdered because you had to save a few pel and get a generator with a rusted crank.

Hush up and stay put, said Danny as he started to head to the door.

Blythe looked in through the grate at the fire beneath the reservoir on the forbidden machine. The mechanism within that produced electricity was covered by a metal casing, but she could see the first spinning wheel that would start the process once the liquid boiled and the steam began to push up. The spinner looked like a small wagon wheel with no outer rim and spokes made of spoons. The cupped ends of the spokes were situated above a small opening to the reservoir below, and when steam pushed up it would cause the first wheel to spin, which would then in turn begin to rotate the other wheels. As the steam built pressure, the generator would begin to produce electricity that would flow through the copper wires that were attached to bulbs on their roof. Once fully functioning, the generator could provide enough light to shine out deep into the surrounding fields.

She was tempted to remove the glass protector over the wheel and spin it herself, but she knew how delicate these machines could be, and it was never easy to find a tinkerer to fix them once they broke. The Order of the Nine had banned these types of machines, along with all of the other contraptions they referred to as ‘Steam and Gleam.’ While The Order held less sway outside the boundaries of The Five Walls, they still had supporters even in the smuggler’s towns. Owning a generator like this would be reason enough for an agent of Golden Rock to arrest or kill them, even out here on the outskirts of Sailor’s Rock.

It’s going, said Blythe as she watched the wheel begin to turn as the steam flowed up into the glass compartment, covering the inside with condensation and hiding the mechanism from view. Next there was a blue spark within that caused the entire enclosure to flash. She looked outside, through the window where Danny stood, and saw the slow burgeoning glow of the bulbs attached to their roof. The bulbs were fashioned to look like tall owls with glass bellies. This was meant as a way to hide the fact that they’d attached forbidden machinery to their home, since many farmers kept decorative birds to ward off pests.

Danny dared to look outside now that the lights were beginning to glow orange, filling the yard with burgeoning light. Blythe stayed near the generator, her hands shaking as she carefully poured a little more tea into the reservoir to keep the steam flowing.

Do you see anything? she asked, her voice trembling.

The dogs are dead.

They are? Her voice quivered with fright.

He nodded and said, I can see blood under them.

What killed them?

I don’t know.

Nine have mercy, said Blythe as she cowered. The devils are in the plains again. I just know it.

There’s no such thing as devils.

A crack of glass and a thud silenced Danny, leaving his wife confused and terrified. Danny turned, revealing a small circular hole in the window and a crossbow bolt buried deep in his forehead. He muttered something unintelligible and then fell to his knees before collapsing flat on the wooden floor, slamming down as his wife screamed in terror. She stood, uncertain how to respond and debating which way to run when she saw a dark figure leaping the fence and rushing across the yard between the house and the field.

The man slammed his shoulder into the front door, easily busting it open and then charging inside. Blythe fell backward in fear, tripping over the generator and falling with it. She thudded hard on the floor as the glass on the generator shattered, exposing the fragile wheel within. Blue sparks poured out, stinging her as she cried out for help. The wheel broke free of its axle and rolled away as the boiling tea splashed onto the floor. The orange glow outside dimmed as the electricity stopped flowing, and the invader began to mock his prey’s screams as he loomed above her.

Blythe scrambled to get up, but her attacker fired a bolt from his crossbow into her hand, pinning her to the floor. She cried out in pain and tried to pull her hand free, but the bolt had been buried too deep into the wood beneath her, anchoring her in place as the invader approached. The generator rumbled and clanked, the blue sparks still spitting forth as the gears within ground to a stop. A flame jettisoned out, and then the metal casing snapped free to reveal the gears and wires within before an orange flame shot up into the air and then dissipated like the spectacle of a fire breather.

Who are you? Why are you doing this?

The tall man looked crazed, his black hair and beard shaved haphazardly and revealing fresh scars on his cheeks as if he’d caused the damage to himself recently. His eyes were wide and black, teary and bloodshot. His lips were wet with fresh blood, and he snapped his jaws down at her like a wild animal taunting its meal. He carried a crossbow that looked different from any that Blythe had ever seen before. It was black and appeared as if it was made of metal as the light reflected off it, with dual strings to allow two bolts to be nocked at once and fired independently. He’d fired both of the bolts, leaving his weapon unloaded.

Blythe asked again, Who are you?

A hunter. A ghost. A wraith. I’m not sure myself. He spoke slowly, pausing at length between each sentence.

"Why are you doing this? What did