Knight's Struggle: Age Of Magic - A Kurtherian Gambit Series (Tales of the Wellspring Knight Book 2)

by P. J. Cherubino

  Dancing back to avoid having her arm taken away, Astrid brought out the rope. She swung it once in a circle above her head, the brought it down like a whip. She missed Lungu’s head, but the snap frayed the end of the rope and made her ears ring.

  Lungu was dazed by the sound and partially blinded by the exploding end of the rope. Astrid pounced forward, then delivered a reverse spin kick to Lungu’s head.

  The Protector took the full force of her heel to his head. The strike made him shoulder roll away. He ended up on his feet, but it was far too late for him. Astrid continued spinning.

  She planted a backfist to his left cheek. He recovered and slashed her arm. The cut healed instantly.

  Her left jab pancaked his nose. He staggered back, dazed, and dropped his sword. She advanced again.

  Lungu recovered and lunged forward to deliver a touchless strike. Astrid dodged, then spun around like a top, letting the rope fly out. The line wrapped twice around Lungu’s neck and she pulled.

  He grabbed the rope with both hands.

  “This is it,” Astrid shouted, tightening the rope. “You’re out of choices!”

  “You can’t kill me!” Lungu managed to shout back. “My family kept people alive during the madness! We made this place prosper! We—“

  “That may be true,” Astrid raised her voice above his. “But you don’t honor your ancestors. You are a petty little man who offers nothing but fear and pain.”

  “No!” Lungu barked. Complete disbelief filled his wide eyes. “I am the Protectorate!”

  “Wrong!” Astrid replied. “Look around you. These people are the Protectorate. You have failed them.”

  Lungu’s eyes darted wildly across the faces in the crowd before finally locking with Astrid’s.

  She yanked on the rope with every ounce of rage left in her. The line sheared off Lungu’s head with a geyser of blood. The body fell to its knees, then flat onto the dirt. The head landed just inches from the gory neck.

  Astrid bunched up the rope and threw it on the body.

  Adjusting her death robe, Astrid turned to the silent crowd. Citizens, soldiers and guards alike stood in shocked silence.

  People stopped in mid-fight. Even the wounded, unarmed citizens who had been scrapping with the guards had no words.

  Astrid pulled frigid air into her lungs. “It’s over!” she bellowed. Her words echoed from the courtyard walls, and she said it again. “It’s over! Lungu is dead, and his rule is dead! This land belongs to you again! Let the blood spilled here today wipe the slate clean. If anyone starts fighting here and now, you will answer to me and pay dearly for it!”

  She looked around, making sure everyone was paying attention. “Tend to the wounded!” she shouted. “There are no enemies here. Not anymore.”

  The magic began to fade. Her eyes became like polished black stone again. She wouldn’t have long before she collapsed.

  Moxy ended up at her side somehow. She looked down at the Pixie and smiled. “I thought I told you not to sneak up on me like that.”

  Moxy shrugged. “For old time’s sake,” she answered.

  “You’re one of the only people who can do that,” Astrid replied.

  Tarkon and Vinnie were already busy collecting weapons from surrendering guards. Gormer and Pleth moved through the crowd tending to the wounded.

  “Hey,” Moxy asked. “Why did you smash through the floor when the trapdoor was hanging open?”

  Astrid shrugged and said, “It was just the right thing for the right time.”

  EPILOGUE

  Argan Village, Three Weeks Later

  Astrid rode from the Fortress in the back of a covered wagon with Gormer beside her.

  “Remind me why you didn’t take Lungu’s personal carriage?” Gormer asked as he shivered even under heavy furs.

  Astrid just smiled at him from the hard wooden bench that ran down either side of the wagon’s length.

  “I killed him, so I have to take his place for a little while. That doesn’t mean I have to be like him. A simple wagon is good enough.”

  “Yeah, but that carriage had a wood stove,” Gormer replied, pulling the thick furs tighter around him. He paused for a moment, then sat bolt upright. “Wait…what do you mean ‘a little while?’”

  “I mean, as soon as I’m sure this Protectorate is stable and justice is restored, I’m leaving.” Gormer’s face pinched together as if it was trying to form a single point. Astrid cut him off just before he was about to speak. She knew him well enough to understand what he might say. “We fought for it, but this is not my home. I don’t belong here. I am just a servant, here to set things right.”

  “But… power… money… liquor… “ Gormer said, listing all the things he pretended to love most.

  Astrid reached across the wagon and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You’re welcome to come with me.”

  “Yeah,” Gormer replied, smiling in spite of himself. “Maybe. I have a feeling we’re gonna be here a while. I’ll check back with you after you realize how much work this place needs.” He folded his arms across his chest and tried to look convincingly skeptical.

  The wagon stopped with a lurch. A round, rosy-cheeked, and bearded face appeared at the back of the wagon as a meaty hand parted the canvas flap.

  “What took you so long?” Vinnie asked anxiously. “The blacksmith’s running out of excuses to keep Tarkon away from the longhouse!”

  “OK, OK, big man,” Gormer said, jumping up from the bench. “Did you get my flowers?”

  “Yes,” Vinnie said, suddenly beaming as he pulled the canvas flaps back so Gormer and Astrid could exit.

  “Flowers?” Astrid asked incredulously as she jumped down onto the icy ground.

  “Yeah,” Gormer replied with a casual air. “Lungu has— or had— a damn hot house kept warm year round. It’s loaded with all kinds of flowers. Well… maybe not loaded anymore.”

  “Yeah,” Astrid replied. “But you thought to have them shipped up here?”

  “Give me a little credit,” Gormer replied. “You told me you were planning this thing. I’m not a complete bastard. Besides, it was tons of fun to raid Lungu’s private garden.”

  They all turned to the sound of heavy footfalls that could only mean a giant was approaching. Charlie walked right up to Gormer, brushing past Vinnie and Astrid. He took one knee to bring his head level with Gormer’s. He placed both massive hands on Gormer’s shoulders.

  Charlie made a cooing sound as he brought his face nose-to-nose with Gormer, who stared back with his eyes suddenly wide. His mouth went slack and he locked eyes with Charlie as they shared minds.

  A moment later, Gormer’s face broke and he began to weep. Charlie wrapped his arms around Gormer and picked him up off his feet in a hug that made the skinny man nearly disappear.

  “What the…” Astrid said as Charlie sang a happy song and swayed back and forth. The giant stood Gormer back onto his feet, then walked away still performing his beautiful wordless song.

  Gormer cleared his throat and pawed at his tear stained face with his hands.

  “Don’t hide that,” Astrid softly commanded. “Share it. What was that about?”

  Gormer beamed at his two friends. “He said he can feel I’m not sick anymore. He’s happy I’m not in so much pain.”

  “He’s right,” Vinnie replied. “You are very much a new person.”

  “Cheese thief!” a voice boomed across the clearing.

  Gormer looked like a startled cat as he turned towards the angry shout. Woody was running full-tilt towards him with murder written on his face.

  “You took my cheese! I’m gonna beat you into raw meat!” Woody bellowed.

  “Oh shit! “ Gormer yelped. He turned on his heel and bolted towards the field.

  Woody charged past them screaming unintelligible curses.

  “Should we…” Astrid wondered aloud.

  “No,” Vinnie chuckled. “If he really wanted Gormer dead, he wouldn’t have announced hi
s intention.”

  The big man turned towards the longhouse and Astrid followed. “I just hope they get it out of their system before Tarkon spoils the surprise.”

  Astrid stopped short and gasped as the doors closed behind her. Flowers and greenery hung from every rafter. Every table was strung with colorful garlands. The focal point of every decoration was a small figure standing at the far end of the building.

  Astrid blinked back the mist in her eyes as she moved towards Moxy like a moth to a candle.

  The Pixie stood on the rise of a small dais freshly built from unfinished wood. A wispy gown of translucent white cloth draped her like forest mist.

  “So beautiful,” Astrid breathed.

  “You like it?” Moxy giggled, spinning around. “I had leftover spider silk.”

  “Que bella,” Vinnie said in his strange, ancient ancient language and placed his hand over his heart. He bent down to give Moxy a kiss on the cheek.

  Suddenly, the doors at either end of the longhouse opened and people began to file in. Woods people walked beside villagers chatting happily. The villagers were dressed in their finest while the woods people had done their best to clean up their leather armor, furs and cloaks of coarse cloth.

  It only took a few minutes for the longhouse to fill up with what Astrid guessed was nearly two-hundred people. Charlie showed up and squeezed in on the side among a pack of children who were only too happy to see him.

  A few minutes later, Woody and Gormer appeared with a shocked-looking Forge Monk between them. They practically dragged Tarkon down the aisle on his rubbery-looking legs.

  “I guess they made up,” Astrid shrugged.

  “Yeah,” Vinnie replied, “but they’ll be at it again. Don’t worry.”

  “What… who… this is what… she wants to…?” Tarkon stammered.

  “He keeps saying that,” Woody grumbled. “I think we broke him.”

  “I know how to fix him,” Astrid said.

  Woody and Gormer let him go as Astrid hooked Tarkon’s arm with her own. The crowd parted as they walked towards the dais.

  When Tarkon saw Moxy, his lungs seemed to draw in most of the air in the room. Astrid stepped away as a wave of intense heat rolled off his body in shimmering waves.

  Astrid stepped forward and stood with Moxy on her right side. She motioned to Tarkon, who joined her on the left.

  “Family,” Astrid lifted her voice above the crowd. “That is what we are. We have a bond. We share life. We share struggle. Families don’t always live in harmony, so we take moments like this to remind us that we can and that we should find peace by being together.”

  “Tarkon and Moxy gave me a gift. They clothed me in more than armor. That’s why I’ve asked you all here to help me give them something.” She turned to Tarkon. “You told me that your people declare their bonds before family. I convinced Moxy— “

  “I didn’t need much convincing!” Moxy blurted out.

  The crowd roared with laughter and Tarkon stood tall and proud.

  Astrid continued. “Moxy has agreed to stand with you, Tarkon. What do you say?”

  Tarkon lifted his arms above his head and his hands burst into deep-red flames. The crowd said something like “Whoa…” all-at-once, and that produced more spontaneous, joyous laughter.

  “I give my heartfire to Moxy, my love, my truest steel.”

  They waited for more. Tarkon lowered his hands.

  “That’s it?” Astrid asked with a single arched brow. Tarkon gave a sharp nod. “I thought my people were sparing with words.”

  The crowd burst into cheers that shook the rafters when Moxy pounced into Tarkon’s arms. They kissed passionately as the jugs of ale and wine began to circulate.

  FINIS

  Author Notes - PJ Cherubino

  Written February 6, 2018

  So, here I am putting the finishing touches on Knight’s Struggle. It’s a cold, wet Wednesday in early March. The woods are blanketed in wet snow, but my woodstove is keeping the Writer Shack (TM) nice and toasty.

  It’s a good thing spring is almost here, because I’m nearly out of firewood. Luckily, it’s been a mild winter. Unfortunately, it wasn’t mild enough for my roof, which now has a bit of a leak. I’ll be tacking some shingles up there after all the ice is gone.

  I wonder how many books I’ll have to write to put on a new roof? Something tells me I’m about to find out.

  As I write this note, I’m on my third cup of coffee. These aren’t regular cups. We’re talking Bavairan beer stein proportions here. I need the energy to keep going. I was up late last night on a roll with writing Book 3. It’s almost done.

  Astrid and the Dregs have been very busy and they’re really starting to show me things. I need to hammer out this story while the iron is hot.

  I’ve gotten a ton of great feedback from the readers. It’s been great to meet so many of you and the outpouring of support and encouragement is every bit as energizing as my coffee.

  All in all, It’s been a wild ride. I wouldn’t trade this experience for any other, leaky roof and all.

  Gratefully,

  P.J. Cherubino

  Author Notes - Michael Anderle

  Written February 7, 2018

  First, THANK YOU for not only reading through this story, but to our author notes as well!

  I’d express how warm I am sitting where I am crafting these author notes, but then PJ and The Writer Shack ™ would get your sympathy votes, and where would I be?

  Needless to say, I’m a lot warmer than he is. Part of the reason is I am a wuss.

  No, I mean it.

  I’ll say that LOUD AND PROUD – I’m a WUSS when it comes to being cold.

  I don’t like it at all…Period F’ing Dot.

  Here is me in a James Bond scene…

  Evil Villain: “I see you know the combination to the lock to allow me the secrets to the nuclear arsenal, Mr. Anderle… WHAT ARE THOSE NUMBERS!”

  TheAuthor™: (Struggling to get out of a chair where he is tied down) “I WON’T give them up, Evil Asshole™! There is NOTHING you can do to pull that information out of my mind…”

  Evil Villain: “We shall see, Mr. Anderle…We shall see..” (Exit scene, cackling manically.)

  TheAuthor™: (Looking around frantically, muttering under breath) “I got this… Stabbing? Painful, but doable. Foot to the nuts? I’m too old to need those anyway… Wait…What is that I feel?”

  Evil Villain: (Entering scene with Parka) “So, you see Mr. Anderle, I have lowered the room temperature…Soon, it will be a freezing SIXTY-THREE degrees in here…”

  TheAuthor™: (Looking relieved) “Celsius?”

  Evil Villain: “I’m not stupid, Mr. Anderle… FAREINHEIT!”

  TheAuthor™: “ARE YOU FUCKING INSANE?” (Struggling with his ropes.) “Get me OUT of here you systematic suckass!”

  Evil Villain: “GIVE ME THOSE CODES!”

  TheAuthor™: “NO!”

  Evil Villain: “FINE!” (Yelling off stage) “TURN DOWN THE THERMOSTAT TO 62!”

  TheAuthor™: “ONE!”

  Evil Villain: “One WHAT Mr. Anderle?”

  TheAuthor™: (Weeping) “The first number of the code starts with one…”

  So, that is how I suspect the nuclear holocaust would start if I was Mr. Bond and cold was used against me.

  We would all be dead, I’m so sorry.

  I hope you have enjoyed our second book and while I am warm, I will raise my iced tea in salute to PJ’s effort to freeze his ever loving ass off… Stay warm my friend, stay warm!

  Reviews and Sales!

  THANK YOU to the 19 reviewers who already have reviews up for Knight’s Creed, our first book ;-).

  We have a 4.8 out of 5.0 rating average (which is very good) and have sold 598 copies and over 110,000 pages read…WHOOP!

  While we (of course) want 10,000 books sold, it’s early days, so we will be super thankful to our fans and keep writing and plugging away. Your reviews matter
, so when you have a moment, feel free to support our efforts by doing your own writing on Amazon ;-)

  I hope you all have a fantastic day, and week!

  Ad Aeternitatem,

  Michael Anderle

  P.J. Cherubino

  Join my newsletter (http://pjosephcherubino.site/newsletter) to receive free advance copies of new releases, giveaways and more. Visit my website (http://pjosephcherubino.site/) for details.

  I am always grateful for reader input. Hearing from you helps me tell the stories you want to read.

  Contact and Mailing List

  P. J. Cherubino website: http://pjosephcherubino.site

  On twitter: @PJ_cherubino

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  Email: pjc@pjosephcherubino.site

  Michael Anderle Social

  Website: http://kurtherianbooks.com/

  Email List: http://kurtherianbooks.com/email-list/

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  Other Books by P.J. Cherubino

  The Genetic Imperative

  Fleetfoot Insterstellar (Fleetfoot Interstallar, Book 1)

  Rogue Messiah (Fleetfoot Interstallar, Book 2)

  Realm of the Nine Circles (R9C1)

  The Grind (R9C2)

  Dead, Wired and Online

  Books by Michael Anderle

  For a complete list of Kurtherian Gambit Universe

  books please click this link.

  Kurtherian Gambit Series Titles Include:

  First Arc

  Death Becomes Her (01) - Queen Bitch (02) - Love Lost (03) - Bite This (04)

  Never Forsaken (05) - Under My Heel (06) - Kneel Or Die (07)