Dreamleaf Blues (The Book Wielder Saga)

by Sean Davies

  The Book Wielder Saga

  Dreamleaf Blues

  The prequel to Gloom Rising & Reality Falling

  By Sean Davies

  Table of Contents

  Table of Contents

  Locations of Interest

  Prologue

  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

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Epilogue

  Gloom Rising Chapter 1

  Locations of Interest

  Prologue

  Genevieve Jameson and Annabelle Jones sat comfortably upon the Gallant, the oldest and most luxurious train still serving in the Nation of Industria, as it trundled proudly down the rails. They had a luxury booth all to themselves as the late-night tickets were cheap, and the rest of the party-goers would take the faster electric and Deep Vein Oil trains to their chosen destinations.

  The pair of seventeen-year-old girls were dolled up and ready for yet another night of drunken carnage on their tour of the world. Their parents had paid for the trip around Mydia, a joint birthday present and gap year treat for acing their first year of college.

  Annabelle sank back onto the red leather seat, put her sharp black high heels up on the seat opposite, and took a long drink from her bottle of alcopop. She was a curvaceous blonde bombshell with emerald green eyes, long wavy hair, and soft angelic features. However, her flirtatious and confident demeanour showed off her inner devil.

  For the night’s revelries, Annabelle had chosen to wear a short leather jacket, a tight white t-shirt tucked into a pair of leather hot pants, and a pair of freshly torn up tights. She had donned a silver bracelet, silver chain, and a pair of extravagant silver earrings with multiple hanging sections. Her makeup was heavy and dark, a deliberate attempt to fit in with the club she had picked for the night.

  She sighed longingly as a faster train whizzed by on one of the neighbouring tracks, and twiddled her hair in a bored, yet playful way. “Genie, Genie, Genie… of all the trains on Desem, you had to pick the slowest.”

  Genevieve smirked, and tried not to look at her friend’s impressive legs. It had been bad enough for her when they were getting ready, as Annabelle had insisted that Genevieve should help to tear her tights, and the sight of her blonde friend’s next-to-non-existent lacy white lingerie was engraved in her memory (along with all the other similar experiences they seldom spoke of).

  They had been friends since childhood, as their parents were neighbours, and the girls had been born only days apart from one another. They had been inseparable for their entire lives. Genevieve wasn’t sure exactly when her feelings for Annabelle had developed, or if her frisky friend felt the same way that she did, but Genie couldn’t remember a time when she didn’t love the gorgeous girl. They had done things together, mainly when they were under the influence, but neither one of them would mention it the next morning, and that was the way it always had been.

  “If we’re traveling on the Great Railway,” Genevieve began, “then we had to hit up the Gallant at least once, Anna. Especially when it was on the cheap. I mean, look at this cabin, the old leather, the fine woodwork, it’s… inspirational!”

  Anna smirked slyly. “I love it when you get all inspired, Genie.”

  Genevieve blushed and adjusted her outfit nervously. She had mirrored Anna’s ensemble under her keen insistence, but gone for a denim look instead of leather. Genie wore a short denim jacket over a loose black crop top, and a pair of tight denim hot pants over some fishnet stockings she’d borrowed from Anna, along with some thick heeled black shoes.

  Genie’s figure was thin but shapely in the right places, and her features were sharp and prominent like a supermodel’s. Genevieve’s hair was an uninspiring shade of light brown and ended neatly above her shoulders, and her brown eyes were youthful and full of hope. Annabelle had done her make-up equally as dark, and doused her usually neat brown hair with hairspray and ruffled it wildly.

  “So, will tonight be the night?” Annabelle said coyly.

  “The night for what…?” Genie replied bashfully.

  “The night you try something harder than drink and Dreamleaf, Genie-girl!” Anna said with a devilish wink.

  Genevieve grimaced; Anna had been on at her to experiment with the stronger drugs for a while.

  “Come on…” Annabelle pleaded while batting her eyelashes. “I don’t want to try them alone, I want you with me. Then we can share all the weird stuff we see and feel afterwards!”

  “Fine,” Genie reluctantly agreed. “Tonight’s the night.” But not the one that she really wanted.

  “Promise me,” Anna said. She closed the gap between them, leaned on Genevieve’s thighs, and looked deeply into her friend’s eyes. “Promise me, Genie.”

  Genevieve buckled under the pressure emanating from Anna’s intense green eyes and wondered if she knew just how easy it was to play her. “I promise,” Genie agreed regardless.

  Annabelle kissed her on the cheek and returned to her seat. “You’re the best, Genie-girl!”

  The Gallant eventually brought them to Smithston, a coastal town north of Industria City; the polluting production powerhouse and the capital city of the Nation of Industria, on the continent of Desem.

  Mydia had three curved continents and one large central isle. The northern continent was called Rura and was famed for its thick forests, coal rich hills, and prosperous farmlands. To the southeast was the continent of Tropica and its scattered archipelagos, which was a tropical paradise with sparkling crystal-clear waters, long sandy beaches, and dense jungles and rainforests. Lastly, to the southwest was the continent of Desem. It was a barren and dried-out land, but its mountains were rich with precious metals and under its cracked soil was high quantities of Deep Vein Oil.

  Deep Vein Oil (or DVO, for short) was said to be a fossil fuel similar to coal by scientists, or the very lifeblood of the planet by the few and far-between religious members of society, and was used for manufacturing fuels, chemicals, plastics, and countless other products used in everyday life.

  Although they had once contained many nations and factions, over time each of the three continents were controlled by their own ruling body. Rura was home to the Nation of Imperia, Tropica was the self-titled Nation of Tropica, and Desem was home to the Nation of Industria.

  However, after the Imperian Autocrat, Edgar Aurelius, had successfully won his Great War and conquered the world, all nations bowed to the Imperian world banner. It had taken decades of fighting to accomplish, with rifle-bearing infantry and stealthy commandos, brave pilots in their propeller fighter and bomber aircraft, and stoic sailors aboard their battleships and U-boats. The true capital of Mydia was now Imperia City, widely referred to as ‘the Capital’, even though in recent years the seldom heard of Autocrat had taken to ruling from his high-tech sanctum on the Central Isle.

  After a short cab ride from the station, the two girls arrived at a large group of warehouses beside a busy dockyard, fenced off by a threateningly high steel grid fence. With a bit of cheeky flirtation and a short kiss, Annabelle knocked ten Imperial Credits off their taxi fare.

  “Where the hell are we?” Genevieve asked, looking around at the drab industrial area.

  Annabelle took her hand and led her deeper into the cluster of warehouses. “Trust me, I got a tip from a friend.”

  “What friend?
” Genie asked warily.

  “Kevin… or Spence…” Anna shrugged. “It was one of that Shandra girl’s lovers from college.”

  Genevieve rolled her eyes. Anna was a reckless girl at times, but taking instructions from her Media Studies friend’s boyfriends and using them to navigate around a foreign continent seemed insanely stupid.

  “Look, there’s nothing here, Anna,” Genie said gesturing to the warehouses, which were still in use and contained a skeleton crew of night shift workers. “Let’s just go into a town and find a nice pub, or a club-”

  “Found it!” Anna cheered. “Oh ye of little faith.”

  They had arrived at the very last warehouse in the area. It looked like all the others, with a drab military grey paint job and corrugated roof, but all its shutters were bolted down and two banners hung proudly by the staff entrance. One was of a neon blue gear in-between two bladed wings on a white background, while the other had two diagonally crossed purple motorcycle axles on a light grey background. It was a play on Industria’s pre-war (and now illegal) national banner.

  Groups of cyberpunks congregated outside wearing outlandish black and neon coloured outfits, featuring customised gas masks, glowing goggles, futuristic trench coats with hi-tech looking accessories, and all kinds of other self-modified equipment. There were also clusters of heavily tattooed burly bikers and half naked girls, wearing open leather jackets, who were smoking and drinking beside their sparkling big vintage motorcycles.

  “Isn’t that banner illegal?” Genevieve asked nervously as they drew closer.

  “Most of what goes on in here is, but that’s why we’re here!” Annabelle replied excitedly.

  The people eyed the two girls suspiciously as they walked to the entrance.

  “We’re going to die in a warehouse…” Genevieve sighed wearily.

  Annabelle thumped her playfully on the arm. “Chill out, Genie-girl! We’ll be fine.”

  They entered the building and were greeted with a small reception area of sorts. A desk ran the length of the room and was manned by one cyberpunk girl with pink dreadlocks and many facial piercings. Behind her was a packed coat rack, piles of personal possessions, and several guns running along the back wall.

  Directly in front of the girls was a set of sturdy doors guarded by two tall goths in white and blue trench coats, and they were armed with sub-machine guns and sheathed blades. Clubbers were coming and going without pause, and the intense music along with the scent of sweat and narcotics leaked out every time the doors parted. However, the stern gaze from the guards told the two girls that they weren’t going anywhere without checking in first.

  Annabelle leaned over the front desk excitedly. “Hiya, two please!”

  The pink-haired girl looked up from her bulky beige monitor and eyed the young girls with amusement. “ID’s,” she said flatly.

  “We’re seventeen,” Anna explained, “so we’re well legal.”

  The receptionist gave them a bored glare. “I don’t care if you’re seven, seventeen, or seventy – I want to know who you are.”

  Annabelle looked at Genevieve and shrugged, and they both fished out their ID cards from their purses.

  “Imperian tourists, huh?” the cyberpunk said with a curled lip.

  “Got a problem with Imperia?” Anna asked, highly offended.

  “Yes, more than you could imagine, blondie,” the receptionist replied intensely.

  “Why?” Annabelle pressed angrily. “The war was a long time ago. Imperia won fair and square, and besides, it wasn’t any of us youngsters’ faults, was it now? Unless you’re secretly super old and you’ve got a really good plastic surgeon who’s taken more than a couple decades off your face. Well, what’s left of it under all those piercings, which are just lovely by the way.”

  The two guards sniggered, earning them a filthy look from the pink-haired cyberpunk.

  “Anna, just drop it,” Genevieve said in a firm tone.

  “Listen to your cute brunette friend, blondie,” the receptionist advised warningly. “She’s going to outlive you by far…”

  Annabelle gasped. “Oh wait, I suppose your parents fought in the war or something? Sorry! Let’s just forget it! Now… can we go in, please?”

  “Yes, my parents fought in the war…” the receptionist said jokingly.

  The guards sniggered again, and Genevieve wondered what was so funny.

  “Just let them in, Neonora,” one of the guards said. “They’re clearly not working for any of the others, and their Creds are worth just as much as everyone else’s.”

  “But if they are trouble then Zero will have my head,” Neonora replied angrily. “We do it by the book.”

  The guards made faces at each other and laughed.

  The girl with the pink dreads tapped away at her clunky beige keyboard and waited impatiently.

  “So, you are who you say you are,” Neonora finally said, as she slid their ID’s across the desk. “You can go inside now.”

  Anna skipped over to the doors and the guards opened them for her. “Thank you, boys!” she said in a very flirty tone.

  “How much do we owe you?” Genevieve stayed behind to ask.

  “It’s free, we get your money from what you buy inside,” the receptionist replied with a smug smirk. “Although, you can always bring us three a drink and a joint.”

  “Yeah, sure, I’ll be back in a bit,” Genevieve said through the sarcasm, hoping to diffuse the situation her brash friend had created. She was used to doing damage control for her best friend’s careless actions, although to her slight annoyance, it never stopped her from loving Anna one bit.

  Neonora’s pink, pierced eyebrows rose in shock. “I was joking… but if you wouldn’t mind? It gets boring as fuck out here. Oh, and if I were you I’d get your friend to keep a lid on that Imperian pride crap. There’s lots of people inside who… whose parents fought in the war, and if the bar staff hear that shit then you’ll be paying double all night.”

  “Thanks, I’ll try,” Genie replied. “She’s a bit…”

  “Genie-girl, you march that firm butt of yours in here now!” Annabelle had popped her head back inside and shot her an impatient look. “They serve drugs at the bar! The bar!”

  “We’ll see you in a bit,” Neonora chuckled.

  Genevieve nodded, rushing over to her friend, and Annabelle clasped her hand and took her inside.

  The warehouse had been completely converted into a masterpiece of a nightclub. The same banners as outside were hung on the walls in-between random bits of technology, machinery, and metal plating that had been arranged and welded together like works of modern art. The long bar was made from stacks of wooden pallets that had a massive slab of stainless steel fastened across them, and the DJ’s platform was elevated at the far end of the building. Behind the DJ was a massive angel statue with long bladed wings, and Genie could see clockwork mechanisms and glowing blue lights within its razor-sharp ribcage and hollow glass head. It had been made to look as though it was emerging from the warehouse wall. Giant speakers thumped out industrial dance music, and blue lights and strobe lighting pulsed through the masses of stomping clubbers. Genevieve quickly forgot her preconceptions and nodded her head to the beat, as the music and atmosphere washed over her.

  The two girls sat themselves at the bar and waited to be served.

  “Okay, you were right,” Genevieve said over the music. “This place is fucking awesome!”

  Annabelle smirked. “When have I ever steered you wrong, Genie?”

  Genevieve rolled her eyes. Most of the trouble she had ever known had been down to her best friend.

  The music lulled, and Genie caught a snippet of conversation from two people getting served beside her.

  “Yeah, Talia’s gone,” a young man with snow-white curtained hair was saying. “She never came back out of the Gloom, I reckon that Sheriff-Freak was roaming the area she crossed into.”

  “Damn,” a woman with short spikey black hair
sighed sadly. She took a long sip of her red wine, which looked as thick and as red as fresh blood. “Talia told me about that one, said he’d almost caught her before… have the Clockwork Angels found another Book Wielder yet?”

  The white-haired man shook his head. “Not yet, the Desem Patriots have loaned them one of theirs for now.”

  “What are you guys talking about?” Genevieve asked curiously. It sounded like they were talking in another language.

  “Nothing,” the man said quickly and suspiciously.

  The short haired woman stroked Genie’s arm softly and looked at her like she was her next meal. “Just a book we both like… but there’s so many other interesting things you and I could talk about…”

  Annabelle put her arm around Genevieve’s shoulders and kissed her on the cheek. “Sorry, sister, she’s taken!”

  The black-haired woman smirked slyly and retreated with her white-haired friend.

  “I thought you had better taste,” Annabelle said, leaving her arm where it was.

  “I do…” Genie said, looking deep into her friend’s green eyes.

  “What can I get you ladies?” the barman asked.

  Annabelle took her arm back and reached into her purse. “Two rum and whatever soft drink you reach first – make those a double – and two Dreamleaf joints.”

  “Make it five joints, and three beers too, please,” Genevieve added, and got some of her own money out.

  Anna looked impressed. “Wow, you’re really going for it. Make sure you save room for the good stuff.”

  “Oh, the extra’s for the guys out front,” Genie explained.

  “Those dickheads?” Annabelle scoffed.

  “They did let us in for free, I’m just doing it as a thank you,” Genevieve lied, not wanting to explain to Anna that she often left a trail of destruction in her wake.

  “Be quick,” Annabelle demanded. “I’ll have everything ready for you by the time you get back.”

  Genevieve quickly back-tracked through the club to deliver her peace offering to the thankful reception crew, and then pushed her way back through the crowds of clubbers to get back to the bar where Annabelle was waiting impatiently.