Sovereign (Realmwalker Book 3)

by Jonathan Franks

  Sovereign

  Realmwalker Book III

  JONATHAN FRANKS

  Copyright © 2016 Jonathan Franks

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN:

  ISBN-13:

  CONTENTS

  CONTENTS

  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

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Epilogue

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Sign up for the author’s New Releases mailing list and get a free copy of the latest novella Plainsmen: The Drop.

  Click here to get started:

  http://www.jonathanfranks.info

  And please consider writing a review of this book on Amazon. Reviews are what keep self-published authors’ works relevant.

  February 18, 1775

  East Haddam, Connecticut

  “Mummy! Mummy!”

  Patricia looked up from her sewing. Little Davina ran into the sitting room. She was bursting with excitement.

  “What is it, love?” Patricia asked.

  “It’s snowing! It’s snowing out! Come look!” Davina ran back to the window.

  Patricia smiled and put her project aside. She braced her hand against the back of her chair and heaved herself upright. Her hand naturally fell to her swollen belly. She walked slowly to the window. Heavy, white snowflakes drifted lazily from the sky.

  “Look how slow it’s falling!” Davina’s breath fogged up the window. She grunted with frustration and wiped the glass with her small fingers.

  “It’s beautiful, dear,” Patricia said. She gazed out over the grounds, which were steadily whitening as the snow fell. Something in the distance caught her eye. She leaned forward and peered through the glass. “They’re coming.” She took Davina buy the shoulders and spun around to face her. “Go get your father.”

  “Who’s coming?”

  “Don’t you worry about that now. Go get your father!” She let go of her daughter’s shoulders and peered back out the window.

  Davina still stood there, confused.

  “Go!” Patricia yelled.

  Davina bolted through the front room, through the parlor, and up the stairs.

  She waddled as quickly as she could to the front door and checked the locks, then barred the door. She was approaching the back door when James ran downstairs.

  “Go upstairs,” he told her.

  “But–” Patricia began to argue but James cut her off.

  “Patricia! Go upstairs! Take Davina and lock yourself in the baby’s room. Go! Now!”

  James’ shouts woke Charlie up. Upstairs, the baby was crying and Davina was trying to calm him down. Patricia headed for the stairs as quickly as she could, but in her condition, it wasn’t fast enough.

  Patricia whirled around at the sound of shattering glass. A large rock lay on the front room floor, surrounded by shards of glass. More rocks came hurling through the windows. One of them glanced off the back of Patricia’s head and she stumbled to her knees. In addition to the rocks coming through the broken windows, lit bottles of oil crashed onto the hardwood floors and burst into flames.

  James ran back to the front of the house with his saber and two rifles. He dropped the saber to the floor, set one of the rifles down, then aimed and fired. He dropped that rifle and picked up the other. He aimed and a flask of oil shattered on the floor next to him. Almost instantly, the flames crawled across the slick floor and caught James’ trousers on fire. A rock hit him in the shoulder and his shot went wild.

  The patriots swarmed the Egan estate, jumping through the glassless bay window, calling out insults against the English. Patricia heard something about loyalists as she was struck in the face with the butt of a rifle and the world went away.

  -

  When she came to, Patricia was stretched face-up over the back of a horse. She tried to move and found that her hands and feet were bound tightly together under the horse’s belly. The air was thick with smoke. All she could hear were shouts and cries and the sound of fire. She looked around frantically. She saw the gate, smashed off its hinges and lying crooked in the snowy road, but she couldn’t see her house.

  Patricia’s arms were so stretched tightly over her head, she felt like any sudden movement would pop her shoulders out of their sockets. Her muscles burned in agony. She tried screaming and noticed all of a sudden that her mouth was stuffed full. It felt like a roll of burlap was shoved into her mouth. She tried to push the material out of her mouth but she couldn’t move it.

  “Ah,” a voice drawled near her. “The redcoat’s wife’s awake!”

  She tried to scream again but the only sounds she could make were desperate shrieks, barely audible over the sound of the riot around her. She struggled against her bonds and the ropes dug into her flesh.

  The horse turned and Patricia could finally see her house. It was completely enveloped in flames. She tried to scream again, to scream for her children, but she couldn’t make any sound. She couldn’t get enough air through her nose and she started to gag on the burlap in her mouth.

  James was tied to another horse, also with a thick roll of burlap stuffed into his mouth. The Americans dumped jugs of hot pine tar over James. He screamed in pain as the hot tar burned his skin. Some of the hot tar splashed on the horse and it screeched and reared wildly onto its hind legs. The abrupt motion of the horse snapped the ropes tighter. There was an audible pop as one of James’ shoulders dislocated.

  The patriots led the horses all through the town. The snow continued and it was freezing cold out. Patricia shivered violently. They came to a stop at the hog sty, and the ropes were cut loose. She was lifted roughly off the horse and carried by at least four men by her arms and legs and thrown into the hog sty. She landed in a wet mass of cold hog dung. Several of the patriots jumped in after her and started throwing dung at her and smearing it on her with mops. A bucket of foul-smelling liquid was sloshed over her face and, with her mouth gagged, Patricia struggled to breathe.

  James was thrown in near her and got similar treatment. One of the Americans tore the burlap from James’ mouth, causing him to retch violently, then the American grabbed a handful of hog excrement and packed it into James’ mouth, then shoved the burlap back in after it. James doubled over, lying in a pool of sloshy, wet hog manure and vomit streamed from his nose and dribbled out the corners of his mouth around the thick roll of burlap. The patriot roughly yanked the burlap back out of his mouth and James vomited and gasped for breath.

  A shot rang out and all motion ceased abruptly.

  “This riot is illegal and unjust and will cease immediately!” A rich, British voice called out. “By order of His Majesty, you will disperse at once!”

  “Never, you bloody English pig! Get the hell out of our town!” This was joined by cries of,” Go back home!” “These aren’t your colonies anymore!”

  Patricia couldn’t see anything but she
heard the sound of some sort of flesh-piercing attack and a sharp scream, then another shot, and then the riot erupted into noise and violence once again. She was jostled roughly and kicked hard in the ribs and stomach.

  “She’s with child!” James yelled, over and over again. “She’s with child!”

  Oliver Scott, an American and one of the leaders of the local militia, stood over Patricia and smashed the butt of his rifle into Patricia’s face. She collapsed, unconscious.

  James screamed and struggled to get to his feet. A half dozen men surrounded him and beat him with clubs until he passed out.

  -

  James opened his eyes. He was covered in a thick coat of manure and dusted with snow. His throat was raw and his mouth hurt with the taste of old burlap and hog manure. His left shoulder was dislocated. He had burns and blisters all over his body. His ribs were a yellow and purple collage of bruising. He was sure at least two of his ribs were broken.

  There were several bodies strewn in the sty around him. He dragged himself, staggering and limping, back to his home. It had been completely destroyed. All that remained was a burned out husk. He limped through what was left of the structure of the house and he found two small, charred skeletons. His wife and children were dead. The American Revolution was just beginning and few, if any, of its events would be quite as brutal to British civilians as the riot in East Haddam.

  Chapter 1

  Gen opened her eyes. Shae was sitting above her. She looked worried. Gen sat up to look at her.

  “I’m sorry,” Shae said, “but I still can’t reach her.”

  “Why not? What could be wrong?” Gen asked.

  “I don’t know! We’ve tried different times of day, on different days. Nothing!”

  Gen frowned. She felt very disconnected from her family, back home in the human world, while she was here in the fairy Realms. “Could something have happened to her?”

  “It’s hard to tell, of course,” Shae said, “but I don’t think she, you know, died or anything. I can feel her over there but I just can’t connect with her.”

  “Can you try my dad?”

  “We can try. Close your eyes.”

  Gen lay back down. Shae’s legs were spread in a V on either side of Gen’s head and she leaned forward and gently placed her fingertips on Gen’s forehead. She closed her eyes and concentrated.

  “This is a little trickier,” Shae whispered. “You aren’t as close with him as you are with her, are you?”

  Gen started to shake her head, but Shae hissed at her.

  “Keep still!”

  She was right. Gen had a great relationship with both of her parents, but she was definitely closer with her mother.

  “Think about him,” Shae quietly instructed. Her voice was calm and soothing.

  Gen concentrated on her father. Shae kept talking to her, instructing her to concentrate on him, picture his face, imagine the sound of his voice. She could see him so clearly, but every image she had of him included her mother.

  “Concentrate,” Shae murmured. “Just him.”

  Gen picked a memory of when they’d gone to the movies together, just the two of them. No Greg or George or mom. They went to see Labyrinth. He told her it was a sure-fire win because the Muppets plus David Bowie couldn’t possibly be bad. Gen was twelve at the time and hadn’t come to fully appreciate David Bowie, so in the car on the way to the movie he put in a cassette of Hunky Dory and–

  Gen was freezing. A thin gray blanket was tucked around her. She was sitting very upright and felt mildly uncomfortable. She was definitely outside and it was definitely very bright.

  She looked down at her body and panicked when she saw that her odd posture was because she was sitting in a wheelchair. She tried to move her hands and her feet but she couldn’t. The panic swelled. The only thing she could move was her head. She looked wildly from side to side. Her eyes were wide with terror.

  Her father sat close to her on her left side on a wooden bench. He didn’t seem to have noticed that Gen was looking at him.

  She tried to speak but she couldn’t make a sound. She nodded her head vigorously and shook her head back and forth. He didn’t notice at all. She started to cry in fear and frustration.

  A tear rolled down her cheek and her dad looked over at her and wiped it away with his thumb. “It’s okay, sweetie, it’s okay,” he said in a calm, soothing voice. He looked at her, then looked back to the snow-covered field in front of them. Then he did a double take and looked back at her.

  “Genny?”

  Gen could finally talk. “Oh, daddy!” She tried to turn toward him but she still couldn’t move.

  “What in the world are you doing here? This isn’t where you should be. You’re in your mom’s chair.”

  “My mom’s chair? A wheelchair? Is she okay?”

  Geoffrey shook his head. “No, honey, she’s not. Your aunt Violet passed away and she had some problems dealing with it. We were just picking up the pieces and losing another person who was so close to her just pushed her over the edge, I guess. She’s been in the hospital since before Thanksgiving.”

  “Thanksgiving?” Gen tried to think of what the date would be. The human world and the fairy Realms didn’t keep the same calendar, since most of the individual Realms didn’t have seasonal climate changes. “Thanksgiving is over?” That meant she’d been in the Realms and away from her family for at least a month and a half.

  “Yes. George and Laura spent Thanksgiving with Laura’s family. I went to the hospital and ate sanitarium cafeteria turkey.”

  “Sanitarium cafeteria turkey? That sounds like the most horrible band ever.” Gen tried to laugh but the best she could manage was a pathetic croak, halfway between a cry and a weak chuckle.

  “She’s been catatonic. Completely unresponsive.”

  “But her pixie is here! He’s okay!”

  “Her pixie?” Geoff asked. “You found her fairy there?”

  “Not a fairy,” Gen corrected, “a pixie. They’re different. A lot of pixies seem to be born of humans with mental or emotional troubles. Like bipolar disorder. But not all of them. Some of them still come out as fairies. I really don’t know what makes the difference.”

  Geoff took a handful of small pieces of bread out of his shirt pocket and tossed the bread into the field. Dozens of small birds flew from the trees to the bread. Gen watched them and realized they weren’t sparrows or robins. They were tiny pterodactyls. They picked at the bread and made quiet squawking sounds.

  “They’re tiny pterodactyls,” she said.

  “I think you mean ptiny with a p. Ptiny pterodactyls.”

  Gen laughed and then grew quiet once more. “Daddy?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Is she going to be okay?”

  “I don’t know, honey. Her doctor wants to give her shock therapy. They’ve tried a bunch of medications and talk therapy, although I guess it’s more like listening therapy because mom doesn’t talk. They don’t know what else to do.”

  “Jesus,” Gen swore under her breath.

  “Genny!”

  “Sorry. How’s George?”

  “He’s okay. Did your mom tell you that he and Laura are getting married?”

  “No! When? After graduation? Have they set a date? Where are they going to live?” Gen fired off her questions in quick succession.

  “After graduation. They haven’t set a date.”

  “Wow,” Gen said. “Good for them!”

  “We’d love it if you could be here for the wedding,” Geoff said. “You can bring your girlfriend.”

  “I don’t think it’s quite that simple, daddy.”

  “How are you? Are you okay? How’s…?”

  “I’m fine. Hope is fine. Things got a little snappy for a while, but, yeah, we’re great. She’s really great, dad.”

  “I’m very happy for you.”

  “And you’re not, like, mad or freaked out or anything that she’s a girl?”

  “No, h
oney.” Geoff took Gen’s hand and squeezed it reassuringly. “Not at all. We’ve always said that no matter how any of you grow up, we’ll still love you and as long as your partners are good to you, we’ll love them, too.”

  “Thanks, daddy.”

  Geoff kissed her hand. “You’re staying safe, though?”

  “Yeah. Actually, I’m kind of a special case now. I heal super fast. I guess I’m, like, immortal or something.”

  “Immortal?”

  “Yeah. I’ve taken some really nasty wounds and they just heal right up.”

  “Wow.” Geoff stood and crouched in front of her. “But you look just the same. I mean, you look older and cut and tough, but you don’t look like a Highlander or something like that.”

  Gen laughed. “What’s a Highlander look like? They’re just normal looking people. And only the Scottish guy was a Highlander.”

  “Well, that may be, but look at you. You’re still my little princess.”

  Gen tried again to examine herself but she could only move her head. She couldn’t see most of her body. Gen cocked her head and listened. “Do you hear something?”

  Geoff looked around. “Yeah, it sounds like a fire bell ringing.” Then his eyes widened. “Oh! It’s my alarm!”

  “Okay,” Gen spoke quickly. “I love you and I love George. Tell Jimmy I’m sorry. There might be a way to get to the wedding but I’m not sure if --”

  The ringing got louder and louder and Gen couldn’t hear herself over the deafening clanging.

  Gen slowly opened her eyes. She looked up at a wooden ceiling with a thick beam running across it. She was back in the Keeper House. She tipped her head up to look at Shae. Shae was asleep, still sitting above her with her legs on either side of Gen’s body. She was leaning against the wall and snoring softly.

  Gen crept out of bed and gently closed the door of her room behind her. She went into Shae’s room. Hope was sleeping in Shae’s chair with her feet propped up on the bed. Her head was tipped back and her mouth was open. A book was open on her lap. Gen cocked her head and smiled tenderly at Hope and gently closed this door, too.

  She went outside. It was nighttime in The Marsh. The moon was nearly full and very bright. Gen heard faint music from the other side of town. She flew over to see what was going on. A group of musicians were playing and dozens of fairies sat on the lawn in front of the pavilion and listened. Gen didn’t recognize any of the musicians but she did know several of the members of the audience, so she flew over to them.