by D. M. Murray
“You’ve committed such treachery, such sin, that it would seem that my blade should wet itself with your blood now. But, even still, it wouldn’t wash away your corruption.”
“Blood washing away blood,” Bergnon almost whispered. “It leaves nothing but blood still. There’s no forgiveness for me. No redemption, even now.”
“No, there’ll never be redemption for your kind. Yet you fought with more fire and heart than I could muster in myself. You gave us hope and granted us a chance.” Thaskil outstretched his hand, offering it to Bergnon.
The major stared at it with a look of disbelief and then shame squirmed on his face. He clasped Thaskil’s hand and squeezed it.
“I hate you, but for this effort of yours, you have my gratitude,” Thaskil said.
“I don’t deserve it, lad.” Bergnon released Thaskil’s hand. “I just wish I could see her one last time. Then you can throw me in a pit where I belong, or hang me from a tree, whatever’s deemed fit for me. But I know I’ll never see her again.”
“I don’t know about love, but from what I’ve seen, maybe that’s the cruellest punishment.” Thaskil reached out and took Bergnon’s wrist. He placed a shackle upon one. “In any case, you may well get the pit or the tree. If I know anything of the High Command’s ways, I think they’ll string you.”
“Aye,” Bergnon said, “that’s my reckoning too.” He offered up his other wrist to be shackled. “For my part in this hurt, I am sorry.”
“You know,” Thaskil said. “I happen to believe you are.” He thought for a moment. “Show me your palm.”
Bergnon turned the unshackled hand around, revealing the grime and blister-lined palm.
Thaskil took hold of Bergnon’s wrist and pulled the hand closer. He withdrew his knife, catching Bergnon’s nervous look and holding it for a moment. He drew the blade deep across the palm of the offered hand.
Bergnon winced as the blade travelled and blood welled up from the wound.
“Leave the city and get yourself out of the Free Provinces.” Thaskil wiped the blade and sheathed it.
Bergnon looked at him, confusion spreading on his face as he held his wounded hand. “I don’t understand.”
“Mistake this not for a mercy,” Thaskil growled. “Every time you look at that scar, I want you to remember everything you caused. Every death you are behind. Every family you’ve ruined. Remember them all and then remember her. And hurt.”
Bergnon made to speak, but closed his mouth and held Thaskil’s stare.
“Go. Now.” Thaskil turned and walked towards the High Command, not casting a backward glance at the traitor.
*
Kalfinar ran out into ground beyond the gate. Before him was scattered the burning wreckage of buildings, war machines, and men. He stopped and stared at the mass of Grunnxe’s army as the Desverukan were swallowed up into the black body of the host.
Broden stopped beside him, followed by Subath. The sounds of hundreds of defenders could be heard approaching from the gate.
“What’s going on?” Subath asked. “They had us on our backs.”
“Kal?” Broden asked.
I’ll not stop searching for you. If I have to tear the Cullanain apart and beyond. I’ll not stop searching for you.
“Kal!” Broden shouted.
Kalfinar turned and looked at his cousin. Blood-spatter and filth covered his face, but the concern was clear in his eyes.
“We’ve failed. The Anulii are not coming.” Kalfinar looked back at the horde as a figure on horseback trotted towards them.
“What?” Broden asked.
“The sleeping saviours, they do not come. The demons have taken her, and so, they’ve taken Dajda too. Look.” Kalfinar pointed towards the horseman.
“I know that man like I know me ol’ mam’s tit,” growled Subath.
“Grunnxe,” Kalfinar hissed.
The old king turned his horse to the side and revealed the prostrate form of Evelyne over the back of his horse. “Your world is finished!” Grunnxe called out, his voice aided with an unnatural volume. “Your Liar God and her proxy belong to Balzath now.”
A huge shimmering and swirling rent was torn in the horizon behind the horde, bathing all in a silvery light.
Kalfinar shielded his eyes from the light and broke into a run, his teeth gritted and fury burning in his throat.
Grunnxe’s army moved towards the silvery light as it grew. The obscured silhouette of the horde blinked into the brightness and then disappeared as the tear vanished, leaving only horizon behind.
Kalfinar stopped, his breath heaving. “I won’t stop searching for you.”
The End
MAILING LIST
Sign up via my Website: dominickmurray.com
There will be no relentless spamming!
Book 2 of the Red Season Series will be available in 2018!
REVIEWS
I hope you enjoyed reading Red Season Rising. Reviews make a massive difference to authors, whether they be on the purchasing site, Goodreads, or in any other media. I would be hugely grateful if you could take the time to leave a review.
A great and wise writer once said to me, “Don’t make the mistake of reading your reviews.” I’m not sure quite how easy that is going to be!
For every review Red Season Rising receives, I will run 10 kilometres, and fend off the writer’s belly! Mind you, for every bad review, I’ll console myself with a donut…
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
“Thank you” seems so small and insignificant a pairing of words when I consider the huge sense of gratitude I feel for all those who have helped, listened, endured and encouraged me over the last few years.
Polly, for your endless support, patience, and love, I am eternally thankful. You keep me anchored in the real world, with you, where I belong.
My Parents, for raising me in a home of warmth, love, and legends.
My siblings, for sharing a wonderful childhood, and for your friendship today.
For my friends, present, and absent, thank you for all the laughter and memories.
McB, JP, AR, and the Edinburgh Genre Writers Group – my thanks for your reviews and encouragement.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
D.M. Murray was born and raised in Ireland in a home full of love, laughter, animal hair, and chaos. He lives in Scotland with his wife and majestic labradoodle, Hudson. When not hunched over his laptop, being stared at intently by Hudson, D.M. is to be found on long walks with his wife, or enjoying the wilderness of Scotland. Or bodging some DIY. Or working in the Renewable Energy industry.
D.M. Murray can be found on:
Website: dominickmurray.com
Email: dominickmurraywords [AT] hotmail.com
Twitter: twitter.com/DominickMurray6
FURTHER THANKS
Editing by TJ Redig
Cover Artwork by John Anthony Di Giovanni, JAD Illustrated (www.jadillustrated.com)
Design by Shawn King, STK Kreations (www.stkkreations.weebly.com)
Map art work by Marie Claire Murray Design and Illustrations Ltd
A big ‘thank you’ to TJ, John, Shawn, and Marie Claire for their excellent work!
Table of Contents
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
CHA
PTER 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
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
MAILING LIST
REVIEWS
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
FURTHER THANKS