by Amy Hopkins
CONTENTS
Dedication
Legal
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
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Author Notes - Amy Hopkins
Author Notes - Michael Anderle
Social Links
Books by Amy Hopkins
Books by Michael Anderle
DEDICATION
This book would not have been written,
if not for the hard work and dedication
from the people working at the Peanut M&M’s factory.
Their talent at crafting the perfect nut-to-chocolate ratio,
combined with just the right amount of
hard shell crunch, will not be forgotten.
— Amy
To Family, Friends and
Those Who Love
To Read.
May We All Enjoy Grace
To Live The Life We Are
Called.
—Michael
Dawn of Deliverance Team
JIT Beta Readers
Paul Westman
Kelly ODonnell
Joshua Ahles
Kimberly Boyer
Micky Cocker
James Caplan
Sarah Weir
John Findlay
Erick Cushman
Larry Omans
Keith Verret
If we missed anyone, please let us know!
Editor
Candy Crum
DAWN OF DELIVERANCE (this book) is a work of fiction.
All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Sometimes both.
This book Copyright © 2017 Amy Hopkins, Michael T. Anderle, CM Raymond, LE Barbant
Cover by Andrew Dobell, www.creativeedgestudios.co.uk
Cover copyright © LMBPN Publishing
LMBPN Publishing supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.
The distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
LMBPN Publishing
PMB 196, 2540 South Maryland Pkwy
Las Vegas, NV 89109
First US edition, October 2017
The Kurtherian Gambit (and what happens within / characters / situations / worlds) are copyright © 2017 by Michael T. Anderle.
CHAPTER ONE
Danil clung to the tree, wondering how the hell he had let himself get talked into this idiocy.
“Sharne, jump!” Jakob yelled.
Sharne jumped, her effort buoyed by Jakob’s magic. She shot into the air, and the hog dashed under her and slammed into a tree.
Not just any tree. The trunk Danil gripped shuddered and groaned at the impact. When it stilled, he was sure it was no longer entirely upright.
Through Garrett’s eyes, he watched the rearick chase down a fat sow, his feet flying as he jumped over bushes and thick tree roots.
He saw Bette, panting behind a tree as she took a moment to catch her breath before swinging around to fire off another round from her crossbow.
Then, he felt Carey’s urgent spike of fear as a nearby tree trunk split, the old pine leaning precariously to one side.
Oh, Danil realized. That’s why it feels like I’m falling.
Danil screamed as the tree lurched towards the ground. The sudden shift in his center of gravity pulled him away from the trunk, and his hands stung as he lost grip on his refuge.
He screamed again as he fell, falling into a whimper as Jakob’s magic caught him and lowered him gently to the ground.
Then, he screamed louder again as Jakob and Sharne both suddenly realized what would happen next.
The hog eyed him. Steam shot from his snout as he snorted in the cold morning air, one foot stamping on the ground menacingly.
“Danil!” Sharne screamed.
“Duck!” Bette yelled.
Unsure who she had been talking to, everyone threw themselves to the ground—everyone but Danil, who was already there, his borrowed sight flitting between his companions before settling to watch the red eyeballs of his impending death.
The hog’s left eye exploded in a shower of blood.
It screamed and gasped, pulling back in a brief moment of agony before falling to one side, dead.
“Take that, ye hairy side of bacon!” Garrett yelled triumphantly in the distance.
Bette strode over and pulled Danil to his feet. He stood, knees shaking.
“There, now,” she said with a grin. “Wasn’t that fun? Ye should come out huntin’ fer breakfast more often, mystic!”
CHAPTER TWO
Julianne carried the tray of loaves into the town hall, carefully stepping over the piled up clothes at the doorway. Her foot caught in a fold of cloth, and she stumbled into a heavyset man who caught her, saving both her dignity and the food.
“Thank you,” Julianne said. She tried to read his mind to grab his name, but his shield was strong.
“Couldn't have that food on the floor,” the man chuckled. “I'm starving!”
“Sorry, love!” Tansy called out, making her way free of the cluster of people around her. “Those clothes are waiting to go out to wash. I’ll pick ‘em up right quick.”
The tiny woman pranced over to Julianne, dressed in a black leotard and sparkling cat ears perched on her head and waving her long hair for maximum benefit to the men watching her. She stopped to inhale the fresh rolls before she scooped up the pile of clothes. “Smells delish!”
Peeking around the side of the enormous pile, she walked with Julianne. “Any word on Adeline? Old George is missing her something fierce.”
“I don’t know anything you don’t,” Julianne said. “I’m sorry, Tansy. I know you guys really care about her.”
Tansy shrugged, the movement threatening to topple the stack of laundry. “She’s a clever kid, knows how to look after herself.” She paused, then said, “Hey, Julianne? Thanks for taking us in. I mean it—we ran from Muir with our tails between our legs. If not for you guys…”
“It’s not me you need to thank,” Julianne told her with a shake of her head. “You’re not the only ones the people of Than have accepted without question.”
Tansy nodded in understanding, dropping the clothes in a corner.
“Harlon’s bringing do
wn some meat and eggs,” Julianne said. “Is there somewhere where I can put it down?”
“Over here, Julianne!” Madam Seher called out. She stood by a makeshift table, crafted from an old door resting on a frame Francis had put together from scrap wood. “Oh, thank you, dear. Just what we needed.”
“Harlon?” Julianne set down her tray, then waved over the people in the hall to attract his attention as he walked in. “Over here!”
Harlon was mindful as he shuffled through, careful to keep his precious platter steady and away from the curious faces that turned to sniff the wafting aroma of sausages and steak.
“Here you go.” He set it down, staring at the food longingly.
“Go on, Harlon,” Julianne said with a laugh. “Grab something for the walk back to your ma’s.”
He grinned like an eager child, then dug his thumbs into a bread roll and tore it in half. Slipping a juicy steak inside, he bowed to Julianne before ambling off.
“How is he?” Seher asked.
“Good, thanks to you.” Julianne touched the old woman’s arm. “I mean it… a few weeks ago, he barely left his room and wouldn’t speak to anyone. Whatever healing spell you used has made a huge difference.”
She’d shrugged off Julianne’s words. “It was nothing.”
“You gave him back his life,” Julianne said.”
“You’ve done enough for us,” Seher reminded Julianne. “It was time I paid a little back.”
“Stop nattering, old woman.” Tansy thrust a plate at Madam Seher. “Last time the Tahn’s brought food, you were so busy feeding us that you forgot to eat. Don’t you even think I didn’t notice!”
“I’ll leave you be, so you can eat.” Julianne shoved some food on a plate and scooted away before Madam Seher could protest. “Bye!” She waved at Tansy, who wrinkled her nose and wiggled her fingers in farewell.
Heading out of the hall and across the street, Julianne knocked on a freshly painted red door. When she had first seen it, the door had been a soft sky blue. Now, any semblance of that color—the color worn by the New Dawn—had been scrubbed off or painted away.
“Lord George?” Julianne called tentatively.
“Eh? Who’s that?” From behind the door, Julianne heard the floorboards creaking and a moment later, the curtains twitched before the door swung open a man with a cane greeted her.
“Young Julianne!” Lord George beamed, his smile widening when his eyes dropped to see what was in her hands. “Oh, I say,” he shuffled back to let her in, watching the food as she went by. “You’ve bought breakfast!”
Julianne pointed toward his leg as he came into the dining area. “How’s the leg doing?”
“Oh, it’s well enough I suppose.” His wince of pain as he sat showed the lie in his words.
She bit her tongue and tried to keep a smile on her face. He was a proud man that many depended on, and wouldn’t show weakness if he could help it. “Did you bring some for yourself?” he asked, and clicked his tongue when she shook her head.
“I ate at home,” she explained.
“Not the point, not the point at all. You’re going to sit there and watch me? Well, at least sit down and pour yourself a drink, so I don’t feel like a glutton.” Lord George patted the seat next to him.
Julianne stepped through the room into the tiny kitchen. He didn’t really need one—the villagers had fawned over him, delivering meals and checking in multiple times per day to see if he needed anything. She brought the water pitcher back with two ceramic cups.
“Here,” she said. “I got you one, too.”
“How is that rabble in the hall? Not making a mess, I hope. I did ask them to quiet down, but you know what those theatre types are like.”
“Never having met a ‘theatre type’, I didn’t really know anything at all!” Julianne exclaimed.
George sat up a little. “What have they been doing?”
A slow grin spread across Julianne’s face as she remembered some of the antics she had seen since they had arrived in town. “Well, I swear Tansy must own at least a dozen cat costumes. Every time she goes out, there’s a gaggle of children around her.”
“Not taking them from their schooling or work, I hope?” George said seriously.
Julianne laughed. “Their parents are just glad they aren’t underfoot. Some of the girls have found little ears to wear, or have scarves tucked into their skirts like tails.”
“You almost sound jealous,” Lord George said, settling back into his chair.
Julianne blushed. “I wouldn’t be the only adult in town who loves to see the cartwheels and twirls in the middle of the streets. Even their illusions are different to what I’m used to—they use their magic purely for fun. It’s a nice change.”
“Glad to see you having fun, dear,” George said with a smile. “But you weren’t smiling when you came in. Is everything ok?”
Julianne sighed, reality tumbling back in to wash away thoughts of performers in the street. “Everything is fine. I’m just thinking over all the things I have to do today.”
“Ahh, of course. The curse of leadership. Always busy, always another thing to do and another problem to solve. You don’t need to humor an old thing like me. Go on, off you go.” He ushered her off the chair.
“Don't be silly, this is the only moment of peace I get in the morning!” She leaned down to peck him on the cheek. “I adore our breakfasts together.” Still, she let him herd her out the door, mindful of the long list of things that needed her attention.
George patted her arm and thanked her for delivering him the food. “And if you have trouble with that rabble outside, you just let me know. I’ll pull them into line.”
Julianne knew that ‘pull them into line’ would involve a few kind words, and the entire ‘rabble’ falling over themselves to accommodate his wishes. Though far from perfect, Lord George had done his best to run Muir well.
He had introduced free schooling for the poor, and the itinerant travelers that often passed through the town. A free kitchen run by the local clergy—shut down after the New Dawn had sunk their claws in—provided food to those without money, and to the workers leaving home early or returning late after a long day at work.
“Goodbye, George,” Julianne called, shutting the door behind her. The steady thump of wood on floorboards faded as he made his way back to his chair, cane at his side.
Now, where the bloody hell is Danil? Julianne wondered. She sent out a general probe, hoping he was in town. Ahh, there you are.
Help! he sent back, alarm clear in his thoughts. I’m being accosted by an angry hooker!
CHAPTER THREE
What did you do to deserve that? Julianne managed to convey the mental version of a stern look and a raised eyebrow with the thought.
What? Why would you even assume that? His response was more indignant than alarmed, so Julianne wasn't too worried.
I’m coming, she sent, hiding her laughter.
She hurried over to the schoolroom, a little abandoned house that had been commandeered to teach the local Tahn villagers the basics of mental shielding. Classes had been lacking the last two weeks, as the villagers and the mystics teaching them had all become too busy to keep up.
Now, Danil was using it as his own place to sleep upstairs, while taking any official meetings with the people from Tahn and Muir downstairs.
He sent her a quick scatter of thoughts to show her what he was dealing with. Julianne was surprised to see Polly, a prostitute from Muir, arguing with him.
Polly had been in town a week, but Julianne hadn’t had the chance to speak to her—not that she had a reason to. Julianne had met the girl, but she had wiped her mind after the encounter, so she wouldn’t know Julianne from a bar of soap.
“It’s a perfectly acceptable occupation!” Polly was yelling as Julianne arrived.
“I never said it wasn’t! But right here, right now, is not the place to start your little enterprise.” Danil flung the door open to le
t Julianne in, his face set into a scowl and flushed from the argument. “You explain it to her. She won’t listen to me.”
Julianne grabbed the collar of his robe as he slipped past, and dragged him back inside. “You’re not getting out of it that easily. Sit.” She pointed to a seat and he took it, glowering at the girl who now stood over him.
“You, too,” Julianne said.
Polly turned up her nose. “I don’t have to do a damned thing you—eek!” She sat, looking about in alarm as her body seemed to move of its own will. As she caught Julianne’s eyes fading from white back to their normal color, she snarled.
“You’re not a dog,” Julianne said pleasantly. “Use your words. Kindly, or I’ll make you.”
Grinding her teeth, Polly sat in silence. Danil spoke up instead. “Polly here thinks the middle of a war is the perfect time to set up a brothel in Tahn.”
“That’s sound reasoning,” Julianne commented.
Danil’s face fell. “You can’t be serious!”
“I didn’t say it would necessarily work,” she added. “Polly, have you thought it through?”
“What’s there to think about?” she quipped, shooting Danil a triumphant smirk. “I’ve got two or three girls from the Friendship with me. All we need is a soft bed and a place to hang a sign.”
“Friendship? Is that what you call it there?” Danil snorted.
Julianne whacked the back of his head. “Behave, before I make you.”
He paled and slouched low in his chair. “Sorry, Master.”
“Where will you find a soft bed? Under the stars? We don’t have enough housing to accommodate the people in town now, how do you think you’ll find a clean place to work from?” Julianne asked Polly.