Uprising: A Darklight Chronicle (prequel to Darklight) Read online

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Uprising

  Darklight - Chapter 1

  Read the rest

  Other Books

  About the author

  UPRISING

  A Darklight Chronicle

  Greg L. Turnquist

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.

  Copyright © 2018 Greg L. Turnquist

  All rights reserved.

  Cover art and design: Greg L. Turnquist

  This book is dedicated to my fans

  Who grant me passage

  Into your home, your reader, your phone, and your life

  To read what I have written

  UPRISING

  IT WAS HALF-an-hour before sunrise. Gavin arose and dressed. Getting up before dawn was a habit, not a chore. Was there a time he did not see the sun rise? Even when his body ached for the comfort the thin mattress offered, he remembered his father’s words: first to sword is first to win. Long passed were the days when it ceased to be a burden. For it had served him well.

  No one beat him.

  Others sought to impress him by doing the same. To shine before the captain of the king's royal guard of Kelmar was a brazen task. Many were willing, few successful.

  Gavin pulled a black leather glove onto his left hand. Picking up his cross sword in its scabbard, he drew it and checked for damage. Daily care for a friend that had many times saved his life was never overlooked. No nicks or blemishes could be found. His other hand met the cool steel in a prayerful motion. The weapon gave him strength, protection, and confidence. Closing his eyes, he breathed in deeply. What would this day bring? Would the uprisings in the outer regions seep into the calm of the city? No way to know.

  Sheathing his sword, it hung securely from his belt. Friend it may be, but one could not be too prepared. He slipped a small dagger on the other side.

  Now ready to present himself, Gavin proceeded to the great hall. Would his men return today? He had sent a couple of units two days ago to investigate these uprisings.

  Certain members of the royal court had expressed fear of the violence reaching the city. He let out a short, harsh breath as his boots clipped across the space. It didn’t take much to make the courtiers nervous.

  Arriving at the empty hall, the echoes of his footfalls bounced off the walls. And another, steadily approaching set of boots. The marked out pacing was that of a soldier.

  “Good morning, sir.”

  Gavin turned.

  Sergeant Milner approached, his brown hair slicked back. Nothing out of place.

  This was a man Gavin kept his eye on. Milner’s record time facing the three-man attack trials and ambidextrous cross sword talent explained why such a young man had risen to the rank of sergeant so quickly.

  “Good morning, Sergeant. Have you checked in with the watchmen?”

  “Yes, sir. No one spotted on approach. I hoped it would be different.”

  “Agreed.” Gavin ground his teeth. “We need more information.” Where were these uprisings? What types of weapons did they possess?”

  “Sir, have you seen anything like this?”

  “No.” Gavin answered curtly. How would Milner take this lack of information? Real soldiers needed to be prepared for anything, and in serious situations, details were often scarce.

  Milner looked down for a moment. “Perhaps I should take two more units. It would spread us a little thin, but we could intercept any couriers, relay new orders, and move to get some information.”

  Gavin appreciated a man ready to make a suggestion and back it up. He smiled. “Pick your teams and move out in one hour."

  “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” Milner ducked out of the hall.

  Gavin let out a breath and walked to his chair.

  Gong! Gong!

  The city clock chimed seven. His Royal Highness, the king, would be here soon. Gavin wanted to have a plan in motion so he could offer a proper report. He would rather have more specifics, but life seldom worked that way.

  Court officials meandered in, each filling their various benches and chairs. Some chatted. Others entered with steaming cups.

  Gavin had finished breakfast before arriving. What soldier would appear ready with a plate of eggs and a cup of coffee?

  Clank. Clank.

  The armored feet of the king's security contingent were unmistakable.

  Gavin rose.

  Two soldiers entered, followed by King Bainerd. The king was garbed in green robes and a cream-colored shirt. His remaining two soldiers trailed behind.

  Gavin knelt and lowered his head in a simple bow. While others nearly prostrated themselves, Gavin was mindful to maintain a ready stance. It was imperative he keep an eye on security matters. He would be remiss if he didn’t.

  The king climbed the dais and sat on the throne.

  His security detail fell in behind.

  “Rise,” the king commanded. “Captain, what news have you?” The king’s deep bass voice filled the hall. The large room that had earlier seemed so empty was now full with his rich timbre.

  “My lord, none of our units have returned. I have dispatched Sergeant Milner with two additional units.”

  “Are you concerned?” The king scrunched his eyebrows.

  Gavin paused before he spoke, choosing his words carefully. “Lack of information is always difficult, my lord. Making command decisions on little to nothing has more risk. But the sergeant is skilled and will bring back any news we need.”

  “If you had to speculate on the source of unrest, what would you say is the cause?” King Bainerd rested his chin on his fist.

  “My lord, I prefer to avoid guessing. That may be best reserved for Minister Farthing.” Gavin glanced at the king’s minister of trade, sitting on the other side of the hall.

  The short, older man, perhaps the most influential courtier, squinted as he glanced between Gavin and the king.

  “My lord, I have spoken to this already.” Minister Farthing extended his arms, and cocked his head. “These are but grumblings. I'm not sure of the need to send more troops.” He smiled. A crooked, tense smile.

  Gavin narrowed his eyes and flattened his lips. “They are no longer in the distant foothills. They are but a day away.” He forced his shoulders back, standing ever straighter, and let a breath out slowly. The fact that the ramblings had moved closer was only true according to estimates—not something Gavin was ready to stake his reputation on.

  The minister continued as if Gavin said nothing, “As stated in my previous report, a handful of trade partners expressing concern isn't the same as another city-state declaring war.” Minister Farthing crossed his arms and glared at Gavin.

  King Bain sat with fingers steepled.

  Gavin attemped to read the king’s reaction, but it was hard. His liege was not one to make rash decisions. And Gavin respected that. But it made him more difficult to predict.

  Some members of the court sought to guess the king's reaction, even gamble on policy. That was dishonorable. If it were up to him, that would be rewarded with excommunication from this council.
/>
  Instead of throwing dice, the captain of the guard preferred to put forth his own opinion and let the king take it or leave it.

  “Shouldn’t we rely on the information we have?” Gavin forced his voice to remain calm. “The disruption of trade routes might be but the first sign.” He stared at the minister.

  “And what if you hear nothing? What then?” King Bainerd quirked an eyebrow.

  “If I hear nothing by sundown, I will take an additional unit myself. If there is truly nothing, as Minister Farthing suggests, then someone should return by then.” Gavin lowered his head toward the king. “And in my absence, I will double your personal security contingent.”

  Gavin’s eyes connected with the detail’s leader.

  The soldier nodded.

  “Captain, you are becoming paranoid.” Minister Farthing rolled his eyes. “You take the slightest negative news from the borders and escalate its importance.”

  “Say what you will, Minister, but my job isn't to assuage his Highness’s concerns. I don’t invent fiction in the midst of economic challenges. I ensure the borders are secured.” Gavin gritted his teeth.

  The smug look on Minister Farthing’s face vanished.

  Good. The man always boasted positive news and sunshine.

  “Captain, you may proceed.” The king leaned over the armrest, propped on his elbow. “But you shall leave economic matters to Minister Farthing.”

  Gavin gulped. He’d gone too far. “Yes, my lord.” He tipped his head before glancing at the minister.

  The smug look had returned.

  * * * *

  IT WAS WELL into the afternoon before Gavin found reprieve from courtly business. Standing atop the watchtower beside the soldier on duty, he stared at the horizon. Could he see something this man on duty for hours could not?

  “Nothing?” He glanced at the sentry.

  “No, sir.”

  Nodding, Gavin left the wall walk and moved down the steps. The time had come to carry out his promise to the king.

  He entered the adjacent barracks. “Watch officer.”

  “Yes, sir.” The short man at the end of the hallway turned and saluted.

  “Gather one unit, preferably men warmed up. Have them meet me on the practice field in ten minutes, armed and ready for patrol.”

  “Yes, sir.” The soldier saluted once more and ducked into the next corridor.

  Gavin exited and went to his quarters. There were preparations to be made. He pulled out his pack and began the process of loading. What had kept the previous units from returning? Had they been captured? Overcome?

  Crash!

  The sound of metal on metal turned his stomach. Dropping his pack, Gavin rushed outside.

  “Breach on the south gate! Breach on the south–“ The sentry crumpled, an arrow piercing his chest.

  Gavin’s gaze traced the path of the arrow to the other side of the courtyard’s wall. Rushing toward that side of the grounds, he spotted several dozen soldiers, armed with cross swords and bows. How had they evaded detection until now? Betrayal?

  He looked to the barracks. Where were the men he’d just requested?

  Two soldiers emerged.

  Gavin intercepted them. “Weapons at the ready,” he barked.

  The two men paused, looking at each other.

  “Move! We’re being invaded!”

  Wide-eyed, the two men scrambled to draw their weapons.

  One soldier unsheathed his sword, but before the second could get his out, a group of marauders rounded the wall and rushed them.

  Gavin raised his blade and blocked the man’s swooping cross sword.

  The other two soldiers jumped to his side as he became surrounded.

  More of Gavin’s men emerged from the barracks.

  A soldier yelled back, “Call to arms! Call to arms!”

  An arrow flew through the thick of battle and struck him, dropping him to the ground.

  For each man that exited the barracks, the enemy grew by two. Gavin clinched his jaw. It looked grim.

  Gavin had survived the initial onslaught. Was his blade truly faster? Or perhaps these attackers hadn’t faced a left-handed swordsman.

  It didn’t matter. Gavin and his men couldn’t defend this position for long.

  “Fall back to the barracks!” Blocking an attack with his cross sword and dagger, Gavin nodded in the direction of the entry.

  Stepping toward the doorway, Gavin waited until the last of his men were inside before he crossed the threshold.

  The watch officer slammed the door and sealed it.

  “Take a contingent to the east room.” Gavin pointed at the watch officer who had just bolted the door.

  The watch officer nodded and grabbed four men.

  Indicating the second ranking officer, Gavin continued, “Take another group to the great hall.”

  The officer grabbed five soldiers and moved out.

  “The rest of you, with me.”

  Labored breathing filed into place behind Gavin. Were they so shaken? His men had been well-trained, yet had been quite unprepared for the attack. Had he not imparted to them the reality of what they might face?

  It didn’t matter now. This moment, their mission was all that remained. They could not fail. Gavin and these men had to defend the king.

  * * * *

  AS THE SMALL contingency ran through the palace, screams filled the hallways.

  “They’ve already entered,” Gavin yelled to his men. He slowed his unit.

  A shadow graced the archway ahead.

  Gavin waved his men to the right, drew his dagger, and lunged around the corner.

  The enemy soldier on the other side stared wide as Gavin’s blade pierced his abdomen. His body crashed to the floor.

  Gavin summoned his soldiers alongside; they turned and together moved to the king’s private salon. A weight pulled at Gavin’s stomach. What might they find? There was no time for such thoughts. He had a job to do.

  Furniture was strewn about in the rooms they passed. Fine tapestries, once decorating the walls were now torn and cast about the hallways. Stepping carefully, Gavin maneuvered the group to the door which led to the king’s salon. It was cracked.

  Gavin’s mind darkened.

  With his cross sword and dagger, he eased the door open. Hunched, Gavin stepped in, his men protecting his back.

  Gavin’s eyes scanned the space, but caught one lone figure laying in the middle of the room—King Bainerd.

  “Search the alcoves,” Gavin ordered.

  His men combed the room.

  Gavin sheathed his weapons and knelt beside the king.

  “Captain…they came. My personal guard…no match. They…”

  The king no longer wore his green robes, but lay in his ruffled shirt, waistcoat, and breeches. And there was the blood...

  “My lord, save your strength.” Gavin kept his voice even.

  “Captain, Gavin, you must find these marauders. These…thieves. You must dispense justice.” The king’s words were followed by harsh coughing, blood staining his lips. More blood ran from the king’s head and pooled around his throat. The ruching on his shirt was covered in crimson.

  “We will find them, your Majesty. And your banner will rise again, my lord.” Gavin tried to console the man who wouldn’t see another sunrise.

  “Liar.” The king strained to smile. “I told you, leave matters of economics to Minister Farthing. He is much better at selling people on false hope.” The king gazed up at Gavin. After a few seconds his eyes lost focus and froze.

  Tears stung Gavin’s eyes, but he pushed them back. No time.

  Pulling himself to his feet, he channeled the heat in his heart into his hands. He gripped the hilts of his cross sword and dagger until his knuckles turned white, ready to avenge his sovereign.

  “In formation.”His voice was calmer than he would have thought. “Our liege is dead, but his cause for justice and truth is not.”

  The others joined him
in a semi-diamond formation and followed him out the door. They needed supplies, weapons. The armory was the closest place for them to restock.

  Gavin and his men turned at the next hallway, they were nearly there. Something wasn’t right. It was there, in his gut. But what? He held up a fist and his men halted. And he looked around. Just as he was opening his mouth to bid them pick up their step again, a contingent of marauders fell upon them.

  Spinning his quick blade, Gavin felled the leader, but one of the others took out his man on the left.

  Dropping to the ground, Gavin attained line of sight to the third attacker. He flung his dagger into the man’s groin. Slipping his feet around the second man’s legs, he toppled him into the third. Gavin’s other men finished the roving band. Retrieving his dagger, he cleaned it on the brigand’s course uniform.

  Stepping through the reinforced door into the armory, they checked every square inch to ensure it was empty.

  Gavin grabbed leather fighting jackets and sleeves, passing one to each soldier. He strapped on two more daggers and confirmed the others were adequately armed.

  He motioned for the men to circle around. “We don’t know the status of the other units. Our mission is to find them and establish a headquarters from which to mount a return assault.”

  “You sure about that, sir?” The man’s voice trembled.

  Gavin shifted his gaze to the soldier. “Private, we have a sworn duty to protect this kingdom.”

  The man gulped.

  “We can’t do that with just the four of us. We must find our comrades in arms.” Rising to his full height, Gavin leaned into the man’s face. “And if I hear that kind of insubordination again, I’ll put you in stockades myself when this is all over.”

  The man shrunk. “Yes, sir.”

  “Now, move out.” Gavin waved an arm and stepped out the door. Walking quietly, Gavin strained to hear what lay ahead.

  As they passed rooms and corridors, he saw slaughtered staff, troops, and civilians. It turned his stomach. He’d been in combat before but had never seen such senseless, mindless killing. Whoever these marauders were, they were hell-bent.