The Reminiscent Exile Series, Books 1-3: Distant Star, Broken Quill, Knight Fall

by Joe Ducie

  But, as always, at a certain point that raw power was outclassed by skill—and it would take an almost unfathomable amount of skill to draw something as wild and chaotic as elemental nature. I was more of a close-quarters soldier, back in the day, but if I started small then I could probably—probably—juggle enough Will to darken the sky and make a bit of thunder and lightning.

  I’d never tried. The cost of failure could, at best, obliterate me or, at worst, leave me drooling and barking at the walls.

  “So, in theory,” Ethan said. “Just in theory… you could pull, like, a black hole out of a book? And it would swallow the planet?”

  I slapped him upside his head. “That’s stupid. You’re stupid. In theory, yes, but the power and complexity of the Willcraft needed… is damn near immeasurable. It would take every Knight that had ever lived in the past thousand years working together to even approach something like that. And for what end? They’d all be killed as the Solar System was sucked down the plughole.”

  “Oh, that’s no good.”

  “No, which is why the Knights exist in the first place—to ensure something like that doesn’t happen. Now pay attention, princess.”

  We spent the next hour learning how to pull a simple construct of Will from the written page. As with many things, the magic came down to a matter of will over Will: self-control, determination, and resolve, infused with the ascending oils that burn at the heart of creation. Young Knights, apprentices at the Academy, are taught to do this until they can dive into a book, in whole or in part, and draw forth whatever they needed. Weapons, food, clothing—safe passage through the Void—anything and everything. Intent and imagination, desire, could make fiction a reality.

  Just before six, Ethan figured the trick out and managed to levitate a book a good three feet off the counter. His success made him lose focus, and the thin tome hit the counter with a slap.

  “Ha, you see that?”

  “Well done.” Sophie squeezed his hand. “I’m just popping to the washroom.” She gave her boyfriend a certain look, something I couldn’t read, but it seemed ominous.

  “So how you doing, boss?” Ethan asked, once Sophie had ascended the spiral staircase, which was littered with dollar paperbacks. “With everything.”

  I took a deep breath, held it, and poured myself two finger’s worth of Bowmore Islay, the peatiest of scotch, before exhaling. “Sophie put you up to this, didn’t she?”

  Ethan shrugged. “So what if she did? I worry as much as she does. You took quite a blow a few months ago, and now a new mess.”

  “I died. Clare died. I came back to life. Clare did not.”

  “Yes.”

  “Don’t pretend you can understand that. You’re ten years of fighting in a war away from ever understanding that.”

  “No, I’m not pretending anything. I just… look, you can speak to me, Dec. Declan. Eh… you know, like if you want to.”

  “Eloquent. And what worldly advice can you impart, hmm? Tell me, Ethan, have you ever heard a Clock scream?”

  Ethan tilted his head and snatched the scotch glass from my hand. He tossed the amber liquid back with a grimace. “Few years ago,” he began, and then stopped and shivered. The scotch hit him hard, the way it does when you’re young and not the wise old age of twenty-five like I was.

  “I’ll give you a second…”

  “About a year ago.” He put the glass down and licked his lips. Scotch, good peaty scotch, was an acquired taste. “Before Sophie, I was at this Halloween party. It was at the uni tav, actually. Heh. Love that place.”

  “If you’re—”

  “Just listen. If I don’t at least try, Sophie will slap me. And I’m already in the hole at least two liters of mint choc-chip.” Ethan paused, and when I said nothing, he continued. “So I’m at this Halloween party, and there’s this girl.”

  “Of course there is.”

  “I know, right?”

  “Pretty?”

  “Beautiful.”

  “Love at first sight?”

  “Mate, she was dressed as a slutty pumpkin. I was the handsome zombie. It’s like we were destined to be together.”

  “I think I’ve heard this story before.”

  “We had an awesome night. A really awesome night. She was great. Just… just lovely to be around, you know?” He sighed. “Her name was Amber, and she was killed the next day in a car accident, just off Leach Highway. Drunk driver.”

  “Are you comparing the night of broken twilight when I forfeited my shadow and Tal’s soul was blasted across the endless realms of creation, forcing the Degradation and my exile, to a slutty pumpkin? Or the day Clare was torn apart by a horde of undead on the Plains of Perdition, to a dalliance you had a year ago at a children’s party?”

  “I…” Ethan snorted. “Yes.”

  “I’ve killed men for less.” But was I being fair to the lad? No, not really. “Have you ever heard of a man named James Thorn?”

  “Thorn?” Ethan shrugged. “No, can’t say that I have.”

  “I didn’t think you had, no. He was a soldier—a Knight Infernal—during the Tome Wars. Bit of a prick, but a loveable prick.”

  “Thorn. Prick. Nice.”

  “We were at the Infernal Academy together, started in the same year, at the Fae Palace. He was a funny guy. Born in Zambia, in this world. Black as the ace of spades and always smiling. Always. Could do some really impressive tricks with bands of concentrated Will: hide entire ships in cloaks of invisibility or reinforce armor plating until it was damn near indestructible. You could fly those ships through the heart of the sun without melting the ice in your scotch.”

  “Is he…? He’s dead, isn’t he?”

  I clapped my hands together twice and pointed at him. “Got it in one, Reilly. Yes, he’s dead. Anyway, growing up, he was always laughing about how one day he was going to steal an Eternity-class cruiser—think of a spaceship, like the Millennium Falcon from Star Wars—and become an outlaw in the Uncharted Realms.”

  “Uncharted Realms?”

  “The thousands upon thousands of worlds in Forget that have never been explored but exist as sparkling jewels of the Story Thread nonetheless.”

  “Oh.”

  Sophie should have long since returned from the washroom. She was giving Ethan and me our moment. “Yeah, he had a dream. Handsome space pirate. I think James just liked the idea of flying through the unknown, world to world, universe to universe, away from the Knights and the Renegades and the Tome Wars. We all had something we’d rather be doing, back then. For me, that was Sophie’s sister.”

  “What happened to him?”

  “He never made it beyond Voraskel.”

  Ethan turned the word over on his tongue. “Voraskel? I almost don’t want to ask…”

  “One of the worst battles of the Tome Wars. Best left forgotten, you know. They’ll still be burying the dead there long after we’ve moved on. A lot of friends died, and died hard. My point is bereavement, Ethan, the demise of someone, death, passing away… everyone deals with it on their own.” A curious thought occurred to me then. “And it’s okay to be afraid, you know.”

  Ethan fell silent, and a moment later Sophie returned. It took her all of half a second to judge the silence and sigh.

  “What are you boys talking about?”

  “Nothing helpful, I guess.” Ethan turned his palms toward the ceiling and paused. A knock on my front door shook him out of his reverie. “I don’t know where I was going with that Halloween story, Declan. Sorry.”

  I stepped across the shop, navigating the maze of books once more, under the evanescent chandeliers. The sun hadn’t set, but the sky visible through the tall windows was burned orange and darkening fast.

  Annie Brie was at the door, looking tired but standing strong in her brown leather jacket. A pair of sunglasses hung from the collar of her blouse.

  I flipped over my ward sign, unlocked the door, and tried to look chipper. “Detective Brie, three times in o
ne day? Don’t tell me something else has happened.”

  I stepped aside and let her cross the threshold of my shop. She looked around, mildly interested, at the near-impenetrable stacks of books, haphazardly strewn about the place and along the bulging bookcases. As most did, she took a deep breath and enjoyed the scent of leather-bound tomes.

  “No. I’ve just come from the latest crime scene in Osborne Park. It was…” She grimaced. “It was messy. Detective Grey and I believe you may need police protection, given the events of the day.”

  “Oh?” I chuckled. “You believe it, but Grey wasn’t so easy to convince, was he?”

  Brie opened her mouth to speak but then caught sight of Sophie and Ethan and fell short. “Miss Levy, Mr. Reilly. How are you?”

  “Right as rain,” Ethan said. “Clean bill of health from the hospital. We were just leaving, actually.”

  Sophie and Ethan linked arms. “Yes, off to make dinner and see a movie.”

  “Be careful out there,” I said and meant it. “You can stay here tonight, you know.”

  An unspoken warning laced my words. Sophie and Ethan heard it well. Brie looked confused, her eyes darting among our small little group. She sensed what we weren’t talking about.

  “Probably safer away from you.” Sophie chuckled. “Story of my life, right? Good evening, Declan. Detective.”

  Ethan waved his goodbye, and Sophie gave me a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek before they departed back to the university campus and their shared accommodation.

  After they were gone, I looked at Brie and shoved my hands into my pockets, rocking back and forth on my heels. “So you’re here to protect me?”

  “Yes.”

  “From what?”

  Brie blinked. “Seriously? You were shot at today, and someone is killing people to taunt you. In the law enforcement business, we call that a reasonable concern. I’m with you until midnight, while a uniform rotation is worked out; then you’ll have two officers on protective detail until we catch whoever’s responsible. Sound good?”

  No, that did not sound good. I needed room to work, to direct my attention on whomever or whatever had targeted me. Again, I could flee to Forget—there were plenty of places to hide along the Story Thread, the nerve center of all creation, but even then the Knights or the Renegades would find me eventually. They had their ways. And if I fled True Earth… damned twice.

  “I’m going to call you Annie from now on.”

  “Detective Brie, please, Mr. Hale.”

  I nodded and shrugged into my waistcoat, holstering a copy of Midnight Steel by Issac Groust, a former king of the Knights Infernal. Annie looked at me funny but said nothing. “Dinner time, I should think. Care to join me at Paddy’s Pub, just down the road?”

  “For your own protection I think we should order in—”

  “Nonsense. It’s steak night at Paddy’s. My kingdom for the half-kilo rump steak, medium rare, Annie Brie. With pepper sauce, of course.”

  I stepped outside, holding the door open for Annie, and flipped my ward sign back over to “Closed.” An invisible shimmer of power rippled across the storefront, making us both shiver.

  “What was that?”

  “Magic force fields. Come along now, I’ll lead the way.”

  Chapter Five

  Emissary

  The atmosphere in Paddy’s Pub was always one of merriment and a taste of wild abandon. I think the same could be said for Irish pubs the world over. Something about tables squirreled away in little nooks, pretty bargirls, and strong, warm walls adorned with aluminum drink placards, for Guinness and Bulmer’s and good, strong Jameson’s, that sat well with the soul.

  “I’m getting the steak,” I said and pushed the menu aside without even opening it. Annie and I sat at a table for two on the edge of the dining room across from the bar. Soft shadows danced along the wall from a dozen tea light candles scattered across the tables. “Good steak here. Scotch fillet for around thirty dollars. With pepper or garlic sauce. Or both. None of that healthy salad nonsense, either; just a stack of chips or mash.”

  “I’ve not been hungry all day. Especially after what happened.” Annie inhaled a deep breath of the warm air wafting over from the kitchen. “But right now I could eat enough for three.”

  “I recommend the steak.”

  “Yes, I get that. But let’s pretend for a moment I don’t want to eat a half-kilo of meat. Anything else you’d recommend?”

  I thought about it. “You know… I don’t know. I’ve always gotten the steak.”

  “What about the gnocchi?”

  I flinched. Last time I’d brought a woman here, she’d gotten that particular dish. And a few days later killed me. No, that wasn’t fair. I’d already been dying. She’d just made sure of it.

  “Gnocchi’s a brave offering for an Irish pub, don’t you think?”

  Annie folded her menu and played with her tall glass of lemon, lime, and bitters. “Perhaps the vegetable pie.”

  We ordered and made small talk until our food arrived. A nothing-conversation about wine, books, and the merits of fine scotch. Topics best avoided until after dinner included the grisly murders, the attempt on my life, Annie’s shooting, and the weather.

  “You’re engaged,” I said, gesturing to the modest white gold band on her ring finger, as we were finishing our dinner. Time had flown by, as it often does in good, warm company.

  “Yes.” Annie smiled. “My fiancé, Brian.”

  “Brian. He a policeman, too?”

  “A paramedic, actually. Drives an ambulance for St. John’s.”

  I nodded—a fine job. Men like Annie’s Brian cleaned up the awful messes I made.

  “How about you, Mr. Hale? A girlfriend?” She eyed my waistcoat. “Or boyfriend?”

  I chuckled and swirled my scotch around in the glass, rattling the ice. The new girl on the bar didn’t know I took it neat, when I took it at all... “Neither, but I do tend toward women when the mood takes me. So yes, single—not really looking.”

  “Afraid someone’s going to take a shot at her?”

  Now that hit close to home. The last, and only, two women I’d ever been involved with had both died in my place: Tal Levy, Sophie’s sister, to the Everlasting Oblivion five years ago, on the eve of the Degradation; and Clare Valentine just a few short months past, to a horde of undead on the Plains of Perdition.

  “Let’s not talk about that nasty business,” I said.

  “If you don’t tell us what trouble you’re in, we can’t help you.” Annie leaned in close across the table. The precious stone in her engagement ring sparkled as she pressed her fingertips against the back of my hand. “Declan, you can trust me—and the police. We can protect you.”

  I stared into her kind, jade-green eyes and sighed. “You got it backward, sweet thing. I’m protecting you.”

  “From what?”

  “Emily,” I said and almost choked on a sip of scotch.

  Annie frowned. “Who’s Emily, and why do I need protection—?”

  “Sorry, no.” I was gazing across the restaurant at a woman standing near the specials board—steak and nine-dollar pie and pint night—looking fine and smiling a smile just for me. She had caught my eye and took that as invitation to join us.

  “Emily,” I said, as she drew level with our table. Memories of this woman dressed in red, her lips pressed against mine as she slipped a dagger between my ribs, harvesting my blood to traverse the path to Atlantis, danced through my mind. “Oh, Emily.”

  “My, my, my, Declan Hale, at a loss for words? Come now, you’re far more charming than this.”

  “You look well.” Emily wore a devastatingly gorgeous dress, cut off just above the knee and strapless, exposing a soft canyon of cleavage. Her auburn hair hung in gentle waves down over her shoulders. She was glowing, of course, and the bump in her belly was the reason for that. She was pregnant—heavily so. “Radiant, gorgeous, beautiful. Graceful. Like a fine wine, you just keep getting sweet
er.”

  The Immortal Queen of the Renegades laughed—an honest laugh, happy and true. “Oh, much better. Who’s your friend, Declan?” She smiled at Annie, her eyes alight and teeth oh-so white. “I love your hair. So dark and straight.”

  “Thank you.” Oblivious to the truth, my young detective fell that much closer to Forget. “I’m Annie. Congratulations on your pregnancy.”

  Emily wrapped her arms around her baby bump. “Thank you, Annie.”

  “How far along are you?”

  “Close to six months.”

  I edged the steak knife off the table and closed my fist around it. Emily Grace had good reason to hate me—I had killed her husband, King Morpheus Renegade. She had returned the favor and killed me, as well, but I hadn’t had the good grace to stay dead.

  “So, are you two here together on a date?” Emily asked. That friendly glint in her eye turned sharp. “You’re wearing a lovely ring, Annie. Don’t tell me you managed to make Declan commit. From what I know of him, he’s a hard man to tie down.”

  I laughed. “Depends who’s doing the tying, I suppose.”

  “No, no. Declan and I have only just met this morning. I’m a detective with the WA Police and he’s... he’s consulting on a case for us.”

  Emily looked positively chuffed. “Is he now? Always such a helpful boy. Not in any trouble, are you, Declan?”

  “No more than usual, ma’am.” I shrugged. Annie was watching me carefully. “So how long are you back in town for, Em? I’d heard work was keeping you quite busy. Didn’t you recently get promoted?”

  “The sole queen of my own little kingdom, yes. I’m actually leaving tonight, but I thought I’d see if I could surprise you first.”

  “I am somewhat surprised to see you, yes.”

  Annie’s pocket rang. She pulled out her phone and frowned at the screen. “It’s work. Excuse me for a minute.”