Archangel: A Hellfighter Novel

© 2013 Thomas Tipton. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 10/18/2013

ISBN: 978-1-4918-2545-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4918-2544-0 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2013918202

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Contents

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Dedication

For my brother and father, real world Hellfighters.

Chapter 1

Dressed in shimmering white, she danced across the floor, gliding in a youthful display of joy and good humor. Wolf followed. It was not necessarily his job to follow her this evening. He was not on the primary triad charged with the protection of the princess, but he did so anyway.

He could not help himself. Something about Princess St. John stirred his blood and drew him to her like moths to flames. Wolf McKreegan was truly, completely in love with the young woman, and she was completely out of his reach.

Of course, he did not realize he was in love with her. He could not admit that even to himself. Wolf was one of her warders, after all, and as such, in a completely separate social class.

Eve continued to dance and frolic with the other young nobles, the primary triad on duty always in close proximity. Wolf roamed through the crowd, excusing himself as the butt of his assault rifle nuzzle down at his chest, brushed against a young woman’s shoulder. The young woman had shimmering black hair. She gave him a dazzling smile that made her dark eyes sparkle.

Buy me a drink and save me a dance and I’ll forgive you, she said.

Wolf touched his gun to draw her attention to it and smiled.

I’m sorry, Miss, he said. But I’m on duty.

He, of course, was not on duty. That did not stop him from claiming to be so in order to politely decline the young woman’s advance. Wolf was conscious of her feelings and did not wish to hurt her with flat rejection. She was a very attractive young woman, but the truth was, Wolf was not interested.

That’s too bad, she said over her shoulder, her eyes full of promise as she was dragged away by a friend. I forgive you anyway.

Then she was gone. Wolf sighed and then jumped as someone laid a large hand on his shoulder. A warder should to not be so easy to sneak up on, he thought.

That really is too bad, the man to whom the hand belonged said. I know I’ve said this before, but when you’re a secondary, it is okay to socialize. You might find flirting to your liking, son. Your mother worries you’ll never give her grandchildren at this rate.

I’m afraid it would do me no good, father, Wolf replied.

Still hopelessly infatuated with young Miss St. John, are we?

This line of teasing had been a running joke for years on end. Wolf had had eyes only for Eve since they had been paired in dance class as children. It seemed, at least to everyone besides Wolf, every decision since then had been made with her proximity in mind.

Valk McKreegan was even taller than Wolf who stood a few inches more than six feet. Broad of shoulder and lean of hip, Valk had spent thirty years as warder to King Edward St. John, the reigning monarch of the Kingdom of Niv. He had retired with a full pension and an honorable discharge, leaving the protection of the royal family to younger Hellfighters.

Never one to sit idle, his retirement had lasted all of three months. His return to the Hellfighters’ ranks brought back the man’s good humor, and, in all likelihood, Wolf thought, saved his marriage. Wolf’s mother had quickly become frustrated with her husband’s distemper and of him being constantly underfoot. She had a household to run, after all.

Valk had applied and had been accepted by the Military Intelligence Division. The unit was comprised completely of Hellfighters from different divisions with differing areas of expertise. Wolf’s father had quickly become engaged in his work, though it required a great deal more travel and time away from the capital city than he had been accustomed to. As a result, Wolf did not spend nearly as much of his downtime with his parents as he would have liked.

I didn’t know you were in town, Wolf said.

I’m not, Valk replied. Not officially anyway.

Wolf smiled. Wolf had taken after his mother, adopting her stoic, quiet nature. His father, on the other hand had often been the center of attention. Loud and entertaining, Valk had never been a particularly secretive man. He was big, handsome, and charming in almost any social scenario. Wolf thought the idea of him as a spy seemed absurd.

What’s going on? Wolf asked. He did not expect an answer. His father, charming and roguish as he was, took his vows, whether to his wife or his work, very seriously.

You know I cannot tell you, son, Valk said in low tones leaning in close to Wolf’s ear. There is talk though. William is here.

Wolf looked his father in the eye. Valk was smiling. A fake laugh spilled from his lips as if he had just shared some off color joke with his son. Wolf smiled too, playing along. His father was worried someone, he could not imagine who, would see them speaking. Wolf forced a smile and a brief chuckle of his own indulging his father’s apparent paranoia.

Valk clapped his son on the back and started to move away through the crowd. The older man held his son’s gaze for a moment, though, and Wolf was taken aback by what he thought he saw in his father’s eyes. Fear. What could his father possibly have to fear?

Keep your eyes open, son, Valk said before he stepped into the crowd and began mingling with the other people attending the royal ball. Wolf watched him for a while, but eventually the man disappeared.

Wolf continued to wander through the crowd, occasionally speaking to someone who knew his father or mother, but he moved on as swiftly as social graces would allow. Princess Eve was never out of his sight. In the few instances she had moved beyond his line of sight, he had interrupted the conversation with an apology and stepped away from whoever he had been speaking with. These people knew what he was and did not take it personally.

His triad mates did not follow the operating procedures quite as stringently as he did. Terry Collins was slow dancing with a petite blond girl despite the fast-paced ditty the musicians were playing. Jeff Simmons actually cut in and asked Eve to dance. She smiled, looked toward Wolf, and accepted. Wolf thought there was something in her look, but he did not know what it meant or what to make of it. She and Jeff whirled away and the young noble with whom she had been dancing moved on with a hard stare at the warder.

Wolf watched Eve dance with his friend and felt several pangs of jealousy. He had never lacked confidence in matters of sport or combat, or even other women, but for no reason he could discern, he was unsure of himself around Eve. With her, that insecurity manifested itself as what he considered clumsy idiocy. Never having been particularly loquacious, Wolf had grown even quieter while in her service for no other reason than to avoid the inevitable embarrassment of his ineptitude in conversation.

As they danced Eve found him in the crowd and fixed him with a long smile before Jeff spun her away. Wolf watched her for a few minutes more, then became distracted by the spectacle of King Edward engaged in a very loud argument with none other than his younger brother, William. The young warder moved closer without realizing he was doing so. He found himself just beyond the ring of noblemen surrounding Edward and William.

William was eight years Edward’s junior. Unlike Edward who had spent his entire adult life as King of Niv, William was a soldier, powerful and strong despite being in his late fifties. Two men stood to either side of William warily watching the king’s warders. Wolf had met them both on one of his first shifts as a warder. He recognized them as Colonel Darius Lynch and Colonel Logan Alexander. Both men were in their early forties and still active in the field. Trim and fit, Wolf was disturbed to see both men were wearing their armor under their dark cloaks. Even more disturbing were the ancient swords both men wore strapped across their backs.

No one was supposed to be armed in the king’s presence except for his warders. Surely there was no need for the weapons at a royal ball where the most dangerous opponents were politicians and debutants who did not get their way. Wolf’s hand strayed to his rifle, the fingers lightly touching the handle behind the trigger guard.

And as I have said several times, the matter is closed, William, the king was saying. I will not repeat myself or discuss this matter with you further.

It’s not closed, Edward, William growled. He was tall with a full head of greying hair and a square jaw. He was all hard edges compared to Edward’s soft lines. You are not the one in the field. It is not you who is doing the dying. It is not your men who bury their dead and look to you for answers.

Enough, William, Edward said, his voice rising loud enough to cause those not already aware of the disturbance to turn and look. The music died as well. You forget yourself, brother. I am king, and my word is law. I have ruled on this decision and will not be swayed by your childlike tantrum.

Father was wrong to choose you as his successor, William said, stepping forward. If he could see how you have sold out the fighting men and women of Niv for favor among this weak excuse for nobility, he would be ashamed, Edward.

Edward’s face flushed red, his ample cheeks trembling with rage. The king’s warders closed on William as he advanced. Colonel Boldish was lead on Edward’s primary triad. He stepped between William and the king, going so far as to put a restraining hand against the man’s chest.

Have you lost your mind, Colonel? William asked shoving the man’s hand away.

William was a general. He commanded all military elements in the Northwest half of the Kingdom of Niv. If any subordinate officer laid a hand on a superior officer in anger, it was an offense punishable by execution. The duties of the warders often superseded the regular chain of command, though.

William moved forward again. Wolf did not think his actions overly aggressive, but Boldish held his ground. He was joined by the rest of his triad. Wolf watched Lynch’s hand drift to his side, clenching and then unclenching. Logan Alexander became the opposite of William’s fiery rage. His eyes grew cold and any expression he might have had before disappeared.

Warders, to me, Boldish shouted.

Wolf immediately stepped inside the circle of onlookers. He put his hand on the handle of his rifle but left it pointed toward the floor. Other warders appeared inside the circle. Terry Collins was suddenly beside him. Wolf did not look, but he assumed Jason had stayed with Eve.

Wolf did not like the game Boldish was playing. Darius Lynch turned, staring at the ring of warders. His eyes were hard and challenging.

You forget yourself, brother, Edward said. Go back to your command. Go back and leave the ruling of the nation to those who understand how to do so.

William was furious. Wolf could see the muscles of his jaw bobbing as he ground his teeth in frustration. The general seemed to realize his subordinates were more than willing to call Boldish’s play and participate in whatever violence presented itself. Lynch and Alexander were Hellfighters constantly on the ready line against the Despoilers, a mysterious enemy who appeared at random intervals through areas in the badlands known as shallows. They also still engaged the energies of the Dread from time to time as the occasional Blight pocket made an appearance. These two also operated to the far north where the Sky Admirals regularly did battle with Elven pirates who claimed Nivean lands as their own.

These men were born and bred for violence. They knew little or nothing of the more civilized life the nobility enjoyed living in the security of Niv. William must have sensed this Wolf thought, because he quickly disengaged from the argument with Edward and retreated from Colonel Boldish. He spoke softly to Lynch and Alexander, and then the three men turned and exited the great hall, the heals of their boots hitting the marble floor the only sound in the hall.

As soon as they were gone, Wolf felt the tension of the room dissipate. The music began again, as did the conversation and dancing. Terry grabbed a couple of glasses filled with an amber colored fluid from a passing server and held one to Wolf.

I thought William was going to actually challenge Edward, Terry said.

Wolf shook his head. He did not drink. Jeff Simmons reached by him and took the glass, draining it in one swallow. Wolf looked around and found Eve. She was near her father, Prince Joseph, surrounded by his warders as well as her own primary triad.

The three childhood friends stood talking about the incident, about politics, and about what their role would be should a formal challenge be made to one of the people they were to protect. Wolf and Terry were of the opinion that it was their job to protect the St. Johns, no matter the situation. Jeff felt that if a royal were foolish enough to accept a formal challenge, then they had decided to let fate have its way.

They smiled and ridiculed one another, but it was all done out of the love of brother. These young men had grown up together from the time they were of age to attend school. There was not one among them who would not gladly lay his life down for one or both of the others. None of them knew it, but their bond had been one of the reasons their applications had been accepted by the warders.

Eventually, Jeff was lured away from the camaraderie by a flash of leg from one of the noblemen’s daughters prowling through those gathered. Wolf was also lured away, but it was not by a woman. He spotted his father speaking with several men and closed on them.

The group of men saw him coming and suddenly needed to be elsewhere. Wolf took note of this and felt uneasiness settle in the pit of his stomach. His father turned toward him. He did not look well pleased, but Wolf did not know if it was with him for interrupting, or if the scene from earlier had darkened Valk McKreegan’s mood.

Father, Wolf said as a way of engaging him.

Wolf, Valk said evenly.

I have shifts the next two days, but then have a two day furlough, Wolf said. Would it be all right if we were to get together during those two days?

He did not let on that he wanted to question Valk about what they had seen earlier. His father would not break his oaths, not to settle his son’s curiosity, but Wolf thought he might tell him more if they were safely away from the palace in their country home. Wolf knew Valk could see through him, and did not expect many answers.

Of course, son, Valk said. I would love to. We don’t do it nearly enough.

Wolf nodded, clapped his father on the shoulder and bid him good night. Eve had left moments before and Wolf had no further desire to be there. He decided to return to his dorm and try to find sleep. He had a training session and the day shift the next morning, and he felt ready for neither.

Chapter 2

William St. John strode purposely through the executive wing of the palace, flanked by the two highest-ranking Hellfighters in his army. Darius Lynch and Logan Alexander matching him stride for stride steeled his resolve. These two men had worked and fought their way through three wars, including a civil war, and the Despoiler invasion, Alexander as a ranger in the wastelands to the West, and Lynch, first as a warder for William himself, then as a division commander for William’s army. These two were Hellfighters in every sense of the word.

William, a soldier of no little skill, as the king’s warders could attest if any of them yet survived, nevertheless found the two deadly men’s presence comforting. He steadied himself before a very ornate wooden door inlaid with gold sigils and scenes from the illustrious history of the St. John family.

He looked to Lynch. The man was smiling. William looked right to Alexander. That stone cold killer drew his sword slowly as William used his index finger to trace the runes on his own enchanted blade. A large amethyst at the weapons crosspiece glowed dimly in the pale light of the corridor in the predawn hours. The sword runes provided the magic for strength. The amethyst was an ancient weapon used by the Hellfighters to fight the Dread. Both the runes and the stone had been cast on the blade as it cooled when it was forged. They would keep the blade from breaking and let it maintain a very sharp edge. Alexander then took off his black overcoat, threw it down, and traced the runes tattooed on his arms from his knuckles to his well-muscled shoulders.

St. John and Lynch followed his example, discarding their coats. Logan Alexander traced the runes of the door, whispered the words of magic that would deactivate the locking mechanism, and pushed the door open slowly. He had tortured one of the king’s warders for those secrets, cutting off pieces of the man until delirious with pain, the man had given him what Alexander wanted. Lynch drew a heavy caliber pistol from a holster on his hip.

No, William said sternly, maintaining a low tone. It is forbidden. You know as well as I that any challenge must be made according to an ancient dictate.

St. John pushed his way past Lynch and Alexander into the room beyond the ornate door.

Some culture we have accomplished, Lynch said holstering his pistol, his bulk of muscle belying his incredible speed, a speed enhanced by the activated rune tattoos on his arms and shoulders. We have created rules to murder by.

Both soldiers followed William inside and crept to the bedside of two sleeping figures. The three men stood over the sleeping forms for a moment before Lynch and Alexander placed the tips of their blades to the throats of the woman and the man in the bed. The chill of the steel brought them both awake. Though startled, neither moved to sit or defend themselves.

You… what… ? the king said. Why?

Because, dear brother, you have let this kingdom become soft. Rebels rise up within our own borders and you do nothing. The Despoilers threaten our territories and still you do nothing. Your subjects fight and bleed and die in the name of Niv, yet you send little if any support while you sit here, hundreds of miles away from the front lines living in decadence. You are not fit to reign, William said, laying a short bladed sword within the King’s reach.

You will not be king, William. I have already named Joseph my heir, the King said.

Fool. We have gone to great lengths to ensure sure that I am the only St. John remaining. Joseph and the others shall be dead by noon.

The King, realizing his helpless plight, regressed to the only weapon left at his disposal. Defiance.

I’ll see you in hell, he screamed as he reached for the short sword William had given him. William hesitated only long enough for his brother to wrap his hand around the sword before he opened the king’s throat. Darius Lynch and Logan Alexander cut the queen’s scream short, her blood spraying across the sheets of the bed. She had refused to take a hold of the blade they had offered her, and Alexander placed her fingers around the handle after the fact.

I’m sure you will, brother, William said as he wiped Edward’s blood from his blade and then stood staring at that on his hands.

Chapter 3

Wolf McKreegan stepped back twice, blocking several well thrown kicks and punches, his speed enhanced, rune covered arms assisting the young warder to keep the blows from taking his head off. Then, he exploded in a flurry of counterpunches and kicks, connecting several times and knocking Terry down. The other member of