THE BLACK KNIGHT
Books One-Three of the Series
Written by Christian J. Gilliland
© 2019 Mountaindale Press. All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by US copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Table of Contents
AWAKENING
Acknowledgments
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Epilogue
INCEPTION
Acknowledgments
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
RESURGENCE
Acknowledgments
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Epilogue
Afterword
Author’s Note
About Christian J. Gilliland
About Mountaindale Press
Mountaindale Press Titles
GameLit and LitRPG
Fantasy
AWAKENING
Book One of THE BLACK KNIGHT Series
Written by Christian J. Gilliland
Acknowledgments
For my girls: Brielle, Penelope, and Everly.
Everything I do, I do for you.
For Austin and Dansare, my old friends who have been a great source of support and encouragement.
For Grandpa, because I miss him.
Prologue
“Perhaps we are all a part of something bigger, perhaps not. We can never know. I have seen the universe. It is big. We are not. To think that we mean something in a universe so large is laughable. I think that our only 'purpose' is to live, to live as much and as hard as we can. And then our purpose is to die. That is what I have come up with in all my years of living. The only true purpose we have is the purpose we assign to ourselves. What other people hope or expect of you does not matter unless of course it matters to you. All that matters is you.”
-Sajinious Lynx
Chapter One
Crinnan I
22nd of Ramila – 346 AG
09:30 – Belhaasi Weald
His body trembled and thrashed as he slept. Every inch of him dripped with sweat, a result of the evident turmoil that the sleeping half-blood Elf was enduring. The sheets that covered him had become soaked with his perspiration and twisted around his body as he moved. His fists were clenched tight with fury; the veins in his arms, neck, and temples throbbed and bulged. As his head snapped from left to right, a deep groan that was rooted in fear and desperation burst from his throat.
"I will... find you… " he spoke as if he were out of breath. His voice was nothing more than an animalistic sounding moan. The words he cried out echoed within his mind for what could have been an eternity for all he knew. In the state of being that he was in, he had lost all sense of time.
He heard it repeated over and over again, his voice reciting a promise to a face he could not completely make out. It was right in front of him, but it was a blur, a frustrating smudge that stuck to his mind.
Had it been real? Had it all been just a dream? He was quickly losing his grasp on what the words meant or to who he had said them.
For a brief moment, the images in his mind seemed to come into focus. He saw the faces of two individual beings break through his haziness. The blonde she-Elf and the Vampre with the thin mustache... He knew them, but he could not remember from where. They did not move and did not speak; they only stood before him and stared. They were more of an echo of a thought than an actual memory, and as quickly as their faces flashed through his mind, they were gone.
"I will find you…" for the moment, he had calmed. It was only him and his promise left. It played in his mind, but like a ripple in water it grew further and further away. Eventually, it floated beyond reach. He was alone with nothing but a few meaningless words and a doorway that led to reality. Slowly, he reached out and pushed.
His pale face twisted in a sudden sharp pain that he did not understand. His previously sealed eyes shot open, and he pulled in a deep breath. His lungs filled, and he clawed at the bed beneath him. He raked his memory for any remnant of the dream that had seemed so real, but nothing came to him. Everything was a blur; his past, his present - he remembered none of it clearly. He violently took hold of the sheet that was twisted around him and finally released his breath. He moved his body into an upright position and looked around.
The brightness of the light that surrounded him caused his head to throb. He closed his eyes and gasped at the sudden and unexpected brightness. Slowly, he opened them again, and as he released a pained groan, he came to a realization. It was not the Brother's light, the shining light of the twin suns, that was assaulting his senses but something artificial. The electric lights above him seemed to force their way directly through his eyes and into his brain. He weakly raised his hands and clamped them on his temples, hoping that the pressure would relieve some of the pain.
For a brief moment, the images resurfaced, and he found himself in an almost trance-like state as his mind once again relived what he could have only described as a dream. It was fast, like a flash of lightning but he saw it all. He could make out the face that his promise had been meant for, the beautiful blonde she-Elf. He knew her, or he had known her. The entire concept of it all was slippery however and the harder he tried to hold onto it, the faster it faded away. The entirety of his dream, if that was what it had been, slipped through his fingers like sand. As quickly
as he had remembered it, it had all left him.
At the time, the dream had felt important. It and everything else that bounced around his mind, however, was quickly overshadowed by the pain that he realized he was feeling. He tried again to keep his brown eyes open, but the intensity of the light proved to be too much for him. He finally relented and allowed his head to fall backward onto the pillow.
A cold shiver ran through his hot body, causing him to tremble with discomfort. He did not understand the heat; it felt like he was lying atop coals next to a blazing fire. The throbbing pain in his head that accompanied the burning sensation was unlike any he had ever felt. He tried to fight it; he continued to push his palms against his temples until it felt like he was about to cave in the sides of his head. The pressure was unfortunately no more than a distraction to his situation. Eventually, it all built up to a point where he felt that he could take the pain no longer. He clenched his fist, snorted like a bull, and finally screamed in agony as his body lurched in the bed.
For what could have been an entire minute he threw his tantrum. Somehow, it worked. His pain began to subside, and as his fit ended, he found himself able to breathe. As he rested, the burning faded away. He felt the throbbing in his temples ease and finally, he could hear his thoughts.
He cupped his hands over his sensitive eyes to shield his vision from the light around him. He found himself blinking rapidly and tried to draw moisture into them. They were dry and itchy, reddened he imagined. He felt as if they were about to crack from dehydration.
The room he had found himself in was completely white. He could tell it was old as the walls had yellowed a bit and there were chunks of plaster missing in places. White tile was beneath the bed, and a ceiling fan spun above him. Beeping monitors with flickering screens surrounded his bed, they looked old and like they were barely functioning.
As he surveyed his surroundings, he couldn't help but anxiously plant his fingers into his shoulder-length brown hair. He let out a frustrated whine for even though he was confused and tired, he could not shake the very sobering idea that something was amiss. In spite of it all, he still refused to lift his head from his pillow. While his pain had left him, the fatigue remained, and it was enough to keep him feeling lethargic.
"Fuck," his voice was airy, and gravely, it sounded like he was in a constant state of fury. With another moan, he weakly reached over and scratched an itch he felt on the dry skin of his left arm. As his fingernails scraped against the skin, however, they bumped into something foreign, something unexpected. Curiously, he grabbed the dampened white sheet and with more effort than he wanted to exert, he eventually untangled himself from it and tossed it aside.
His eyes fell upon his own pale naked body. He gasped and rubbed his forehead when he saw the thick black tubes that were protruding from his lower arms and legs. What were they and why were they stuck in him? With what strength he could muster, he whipped his right hand across his chest to his left arm where one of the tubes had been inserted. He wrapped his fingers around it and quickly tore it out. It was surprisingly painless, but the long needle left behind a small bleeding hole.
Methodically, he moved down his body and ripped the remainder of the tubing out. Once he thought he had taken care of all of them, he leaned back and rested again. His scrotum itched, and so he reached down to tend to it. As his hand bumped against something, he shook his head angrily and muttered every manner of curses that he could think.
His head bent upward, and he looked down past his muscular torso, and that was when his fears were validated. A thin tube protruded from his urethra, one he had not seen in the initial survey of his body. That pissed him off considerably, and without thinking, he quickly reached down and yanked on it.
A sharp, unpleasant feeling shot through his lower region and manifested into a loud grunt. He quickly let go of the tube and arched his back, kicking his feet to try and help rid himself of the discomfort.
He pounded his fists against the mattress and yelled obscenities over and over again, but eventually was able to calm himself. Fortunately for him, the physically unpleasant sensation only lasted for a moment. The idea of something foreign hanging out of his penis, however, that stuck with him. He decided that it was in his best interest to leave the alien wiener tube alone for the moment and once again threw his head back and allowed his body to go limp.
As he rested, his mind wandered. He tried to recall where he was and how he had gotten there. It was a difficult feat, for after another quick look around he realized that nothing he saw triggered any memories. What he did know for sure was that he was most definitely not at Base 21, his home. Wherever he was, was much less organized than 21's infirmary. He knew this for a fact because, throughout his years between battles and training and his frequent general altercations, he had spent much time being patched up by his wonderful home base's medical staff.
He saw what he perceived as clutter scattered all around the room. Rusted old antiques that honestly had no business around wounded people like himself surrounded him and dilapidated fixtures that looked like they could have been at least a century old were attached to the walls. It was a curious place, and he felt uncomfortable. He shook away the idea of figuring out where he was and continued to search his mind for the last memory he could find.
"The caverns, " he remembered something, and his gravelly voice muttered the thought out loud. Though he had closed his eyes in an effort to remove distractions, he was at that point fully awake.
"The Izla'Axi Caverns!" the memory quickly pieced itself together in his mind.
He heard laughing and the general sounds you would expect from a camp. Blades scraped against whetstones; bullets were loaded into magazines and revolver cylinders... The fire burned and illuminated the cavern walls; he could suddenly smell the smoke and hear the popping of the wood. His dear friend Elia rested her head on his unarmored shoulder, and he shared a bottle of wine with Alec, his brother in arms.
The trio talked, laughed, and joked... Well, Alec and Elia joked. Crinnan mostly sulked as he sat and waited for his turn on patrol. He remembered wanting to eat and then sleep.
He recalled the darkness that surrounded him when he split from his patrol team and ventured off into the Belhaasi Weald alone. He remembered he had left his armor back at the caverns and only carried his sword and revolvers. He knew that he wouldn't find any trouble and didn't want to bother himself with the extra weight.
The towering trees above him hid under a blanket of shadow, and he had only the moon's faint green light to guide his way. The leaves and twigs snapped beneath his boots, and he smoked a cigarette as he walked through the ancient forest with his flashlight. He grumbled curses at his Captain for sending him out; they both knew that there no enemies in the area.
He remembered hearing the animals darting through the brush and seeing the lightning bugs flash their asses all around him. His job was to patrol for an hour, and when he finished, he had to send Alec out to replace him. There were two other soldiers out with him at the time, but they were patrolling a different area. He was alone. He thought it was going to be easy, to be boring, but suddenly he heard something that shattered that idea.
Snarls and quick whispering words came from all directions. The noises seemed to surround him, and he could suddenly smell what reminded him of decaying flesh. He wasn't worried, he knew he was the best. Whatever was around him, he could handle.
As he casually tossed his cigarette aside and unclipped the holster for one of his revolvers, he remembered the sudden and surprising pain as something slammed into him from behind and knocked him onto his stomach. He quickly rolled to his back so that he could find his enemy; it was just in time for him to watch the tip of a spear drive into the ground beside him.
He recalled the hulking creature being nothing more than a silhouette in the moonlight. The impact had caused him to drop his flashlight, and he could see no more than a slouched muscular brute. It growled hungrily and let out a
guttural laugh as its prey fumbled desperately to draw his weapon.
He felt the spear that had penetrated the ground only moments before suddenly and forcefully skewer his stomach. He remembered hearing himself scream as his attacker twisted the weapon and laughed. The twist followed by a sudden pull caused the spearhead to cut through his body until it ripped out his right side, leaving his abdomen wide open and bleeding.
"Take him," he remembered a deep and frightening voice command, "He looks... delicious." Immediately after that, something hard slammed against the side of his head, and he remembered nothing more.
He looked down at his naked body and saw a long pink scar that started just above his belly button and seemed to wrap around to his back. He contemplated what sort of magic had to have been employed to heal such a wound in the amount of time he thought had passed and sighed. He wondered what kind of misfortune had befallen him.
As he stared up at the lights above him, he feared for himself. He did not know where he was and whether he was in the company of friends or enemies. He knew for sure that he was in no Black Knight base. He felt more certain that somehow he had ended up a prisoner of the Govian Empire. The thought of being at their mercy was enough to make him shudder.
Twenty-three years was all he had. Twenty-three years of living, breathing, eating, drinking, fucking, fighting, and shitting it all back out. He sighed heavily, feeling that although twenty-three years was more than many people had as an opportunity to live in his world, it had simply not been enough for him. There was more he wanted to accomplish; more he wanted to feel. He grieved for the moments he had not yet lived, the very moments that he felt his captors had taken from him.
The sound of footsteps silenced his thoughts. He forced himself into an upright position and stared toward the cracked white wooden door on the wall ten feet in front of his bed. He knew he was trapped by the damned tube hanging from his dick and let out a frustrated growl as he desperately planned his escape.
His adrenaline surged and it, perhaps irrationally, gave him a boost of confidence. He was unarmed; he knew he had to change that. He was trained to kill; he could use anything. He could twist his sheet tight until it could be used it as a bludgeon, he could rip one of the tubes that came from his arm out of the device it was attached to and use it as a whip, Hells he would strangle his enemies with his damned catheter if he had to. Quickly he set out to decide what to do.
The Black Knight Box Set Page 1