The Motive for Massacre (The Kinless Trilogy Book 2) Read online

  ELMORYN

  Book Two:

  THE MOTIVE FOR MASSACRE

  CHRIS PHILBROOK

  The Motive for Massacre

  Copyright © 2013 Christopher Philbrook

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without prior written permission of the author. Your support of author’s rights is appreciated.

  Published in the United States of America

  First Publishing Date July, 2013

  All characters in this compilation are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Cover design and interior layout by Alan MacRaffen

  For Holly.

  Because you are special.

  Also by Chris Philbrook:

  Elmoryn - The Kinless Trilogy

  Book One: Wrath of the Orphans

  Book Two: The Motive for Massacre

  Coming Soon:

  Book Three: The Echoes of Sin

  Reemergence

  Tesser: A Dragon Among Us

  Adrian’s Undead Diary

  Book One: Dark Recollections

  Book Two: Alone No More

  Book Three: Midnight

  Book Four: The Failed Coward

  Book Five: Wrath

  Coming Soon:

  Book Six: In the Arms of Family

  Book Seven: The Trinity

  Book Eight: Cassie

  Don’t miss Chris Philbrook’s free e-Book:

  At Least He’s Not On Fire:

  A Tour of the Things That Escape My Head

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Maps

  Artificer & Church Ranks

  Chapter 1: Friends, Old and New

  Chapter 2: The Churches

  Chapter 3: Family

  Chapter 4: Blood for Blood

  Chapter 5: Secrets Buried Deep

  Chapter 6: A Fireside Tale

  Chapter 7: Three Tickets to Ride

  Chapter 8: Midnight Marauders

  Chapter 9: The Cogs of War

  Chapter 10: An Awkward Adoption

  Chapter 11: House Kulare

  Chapter 12: Weston's Story

  Chapter 13: A Plan, Sort Of

  Chapter 14: To Last a Siege

  Chapter 15: Intrigue

  Chapter 16: A Derelict's Tale

  Chapter 17: Stabbed in the Back

  Chapter 18: Something Old, Something Dark

  Chapter 19: Keep Your Friends Close...

  About the Author: Chris Philbrook

  Additional Online Content

  - Artificer & Church Ranks -

  Guild Hierarchy

  (Listed from greatest to least)

  Grand Paragon

  Paragon

  Bibliosoph

  Librarian

  Ableman

  Journeyman

  Fabricator

  Novitiate

  Apprentice

  Neopyhte

  The Church Of Souls

  Ordained Titles

  (Listed from greatest to least)

  Pontifex

  Vice Pontifex

  Bishop

  Cleric

  Chaplain

  Rector

  Holy Father (or Mother)

  Father (or Mother)

  Minister

  Priest

  - Chapter One -

  FRIENDS, OLD AND NEW

  July 18th, 293PF

  A bead of Umaryn's sweat ran down her nose and dripped onto her hand. She wasn't in the forge today, but the deep heat of the Daris summer was stifling. It was so much hotter than it ever was in New Picknell, or Graben. She sat the hammer she'd taken from the remains of the forge in her long gone home town down and wiped her brow. She said a short prayer to the ancestors and rested.

  Today was the day. Umaryn had labored on this set of armor for nearly two full seasons, and today she'd hammer her last rivet, and the armor would be complete. The Plainswalker she and her brother had killed during their journey north to Graben had given up more hide than she'd be able to use on her own, so she'd set her mind to making two suits of hardened leather armor with the extra. This was her set of armor, the heavier set. Her brother Malwynn's armor was far lighter, and had been completed months ago. He needed armor that did nothing to slow his motions; his spell casting could not be hindered by hard plates, nor could the draw of his bow be slowed or made awkward. She had cut and formed his armor into smaller pieces that were easy to don, light to wear, and offered better protection than any other leather hide. He loved it.

  Umaryn smiled at the thought.

  This second set she'd planned on keeping for her own use. Umaryn was strong, far stronger than most women, and quite a good deal of men, and she wanted armor that told anyone she faced exactly what they should expect from her; brutality. Umaryn's armor was made of Plainswalker hide plates, heavily boiled and cured with exotic waxes until they were as light as pine, but as hard as stone. She had dozens of intricately cut and overlapping plates attached to one another, and all laid over a light chain shirt, and padded breeches. She had dyed the armor a bloody crimson, and the leather plates were detailed with ornamental etchings befitting an Artificer. Cogs, levers, miniscule rail lines, and repeating patterns of swords and axes lent an industrial and powerful feel. The armor was as sturdy as it was beautiful, and it was her crowning achievement.

  "You're almost done," Harold said from several feet away and over her shoulder. Harold was the owner of the leatherworking shop she'd done all the work in. He was a kind young man that had only just taken the shop over from his father two years ago. Right around the same time her and her brother's family had been eradicated by the Empire Necromancer Omniri. He was inexperienced at managing the business, but was a gifted crafter.

  "Yes. It's a strange feeling. I've really enjoyed making these sets of armor. Thank you again for letting me use your shop, and all your guidance," Umaryn returned.

  Harold was dismissive, "Nonsense. The tools you made for me and the business you've brought in has more than compensated me for the trouble you've been." Harold smiled. Umaryn thought he was flirting.

  "I'm glad. I can stay on a bit if you think that'll help. My brother and I are likely to be here in the city for some time."

  Harold nodded emphatically, "Oh yes please miss. The ancestors have blessed me most assuredly. That would be magnificent!"

  Umaryn was often taken aback by the flair that local Darisians exhibited in their common discussions. They added extra oomph to nearly anything with emotion. So much so she frequently had to choke down a laugh.

  "I don't know about magnificent Harold."

  The awkward hide worker stepped in slightly too close to Umaryn. She felt all her muscles tense, ready to literally hammer the man into the floor of his own shop like a fleshy railroad spike.

  Harold spoke seriously, "Umaryn the armor you've made here is beyond magnificent. It's breathtaking. Stunning. In ten years it'll be on display at an Artificer's Guild Hall as a shining example of man's capability to create. It would not surprise me in the least if it was an Artifact."

  She let down her guard as he stepped away, taking in the sight of her armor. She hoped he hadn't seen her hand the forge hammer. Umaryn joined him and looked at the multiple levels of deep redness in the leather, and the immaculate art she'd done. Were it not for her Way given ability to repair they armor after battle, she'd have kept it far simpler, less ornate. But she hadn't, and she had created something special.
<
br />   "I don't know Harold. I don't think I'm the kind of person who can create life. I've got far more history destroying it."

  Dram's gift to the twins as they departed Graben with the Empire's Inquisitors on their heels was generous to say the least. Umaryn's meager salary in the leather worker's shop was forgettable, and Malwynn spent the entirety of his days and nights studying at the libraries across the city.

  The stacks of paper Yokian currency Dram had traded to them for their mass of Empire Crowns had been easy to flip into Varrland Marks. Mal, ever the social butterfly had gone from rail platform to rail platform when they'd arrived looking for trains headed to Yokia. He was able to swap out the strange paper Dollars for Marks straight up, and when he was finished they had almost exactly ten thousand Marks to their name.

  It was a real and true fortune, though without their family, and with a belly empty of the vengeance they'd sought for so long, Mal felt very poor. Their money was hidden away in several discreet spots of the fourth floor luxury apartment they'd purchased just outside of the central government district of Daris.

  Daris, a city divided into three very separate and very distinct districts.

  When Mal and Umaryn arrived in Daris they disembarked from their train in the eastern portion of the city, at the foot of the miles wide hill Daris sat upon. The massive rail yard there was Elmoryn's largest and looming over the sprawling industry was the second largest Guildhall in the land, second only to the Guild's primary Fane on the west coast at Port Cailin. The Hall itself was made of bricks the color of iron held together by the strongest Protectorate concrete, reached six stories tall, and was longer than most of the trains that came and went. It housed hundreds of workers and Artificers, and was the center of the Guild's power in the nation. Everything in the eastern portion of the city was made industrial to match.

  Warehouses, shops, markets, wealthy merchant houses, mercenary companies, and labor unions were the rule of the day in the east side, and despite the grit and grime of it all, the east was where all the money was made in Daris. The true hub of Elmoryn was centered where the trains went, and no other site saw as much rail traffic as the Daris rail yard.

  The geographical center of Daris was where the Cathedral of Kincaid lay. An Apostle handed Malwynn a small printed pamphlet at the rail yard when they arrived, telling he and his sister all about "The Gardens of Truth."

  Interred at the center of the sprawling lush estate that was the Cathedral was the magically preserved body of Saint Kincaid. A saint's body naturally refused to turn undead, and also kept rot and decay at bay. Many saintly bodies were so powerful with The Way, they exhibited other beneficial powers as well.

  Saint Kincaid's body had an aura that prevented falsehoods from being spoken. It was one of the reasons why Daris had become so popular with greedy merchants, and why the city had such a low crime rate. Want to see if your business partners are being fair and square? Sign your contract on the grounds of the Cathedral. Want to know if a man murdered someone or stole something? Ask them the truth and the power of Saint Kincaid would see to it the truth was given.

  Malwynn wanted very desperately to question the Apostle that sent Omniri Decadra to decimate New Picknell. He wanted very much to find out what was so damned important in the chest that had gotten everything they knew in life annihilated.

  But first things first.

  Mal and his sister had chosen their west side apartment for several reasons. Halfway up the hill where the Cathedral lay gave the fourth floor flat a commanding view of almost the entire massive city. Mal had ensured they got a home that had a direct view of the entire Cathedral grounds, where they suspected their prey to be found. Their home was also halfway between the Church of Souls headquarters in the Cathedral, and the sprawling government district that dominated the entire western third of the city. When they left their home they were less than a five minute walk from Parliament, and the venerable white columns of the Palace of the dead Tyrant King.

  They had the politicians and church all within their view, and the Artificers, the only truly neutral group in all of Elmoryn was over the hill, safely away from where they slept at night.

  Mal smiled like a spider at the center of a deadly web.

  The twins invited an old friend to the center of their web for dinner that night.

  Their only friend truthfully.

  "Congratulations seem to be in order Knight Major," Malwynn said as he spooned out a heaping portion of mashed turnips. Mal, his sister, and Marcus Gray sat around a simple round wooden table, sharing a meal. The smell of butter wafted up dreamily. It smelled like home.

  Marcus Gray nodded at each twin smiling, very satisfied by the scents of the dinner, and the congratulations. "To be honest I was caught a bit by surprise. I'm still a bit underage when compared to my other Majors. I hope I can live up to the task."

  Umaryn scoffed, "That's a load of shit Marcus. You're a skilled knight with a long history of success in battle. Your men love you."

  "Thank you but those were all small battles Umaryn. Nothing to the scale I'm likely to be asked to lead now. My new task is to inspire and motivate, not hack and slash."

  Mal passed the ceramic bowl of turnip to his sister and spooned out some greens that had been cooked with bacon, "You'll be fine. You motivated me all this past summer to work on my mounted archery. If you can get me to do that, you can move the Snake Ridge Mountains."

  Marcus looked uneasy, "It may come down to me marching on the Snake Ridge my friends. I hate to say I was right, but that conversation I had with your family what? Two years ago? The talk of war has only become more like reality, and less like speculation. I fear war between Varrland and the Empire is imminent especially in the wake of the destruction of New Picknell. And don't forget, I think all you learned in the Empire last year would be incredibly useful to our military planners when we march north. You are witnesses to aggression against our nation. Consider speaking with our Generals. It could save a lot of lives. Lives like the ones from your hometown."

  The twins had no answers for the large warrior.

  Marcus sat his fork down on the simple ceramic plate and spoke solemnly, "I know I have said this many times, but I am truly sorry for your loss."

  "We know Marcus. It wasn't your fault. Have you considered what we asked you?" Umaryn scooped her own serving of turnip.

  Marcus' face suddenly darkened, and his hands clenched up nervously, "I cannot conduct a... An investigation into the Church. I am not a police officer. I am a soldier, and despite your claims… I have a hard time believing that an Apostle at the Cathedral of Kincaid paid a Necromancer to lay waste to your hometown."

  Malwynn made a fist angrily, but kept it on the table surface, "Marcus, the man had no reason to lie when he told me that."

  "He had every reason to lie my friend. Every reason. A Necromancer in the Queen's Guild? A purple robed servant on his death bed, knife at his throat would seek little else than to sow discord in the ranks of his sworn enemies. Don't be foolish. Think about this." Marcus' tone was firm, and nearly angry.

  Malwynn bit his tongue. He could simply tell Marcus that he'd used The Way to compel Omniri's dead body to be truthful, but in doing so, he'd betray his still secret nature as a necromancer. Without knowing how Marcus would react, he couldn't reveal his new, true nature to the knight.

  Not yet.

  Umaryn spoke saving him the moment, "Marcus we need to find out who did this, and we are both certain that this came from the Church. They killed everyone in our family, in our town, for something our mother and father had kept hidden for who knows how long? We've been patient, biding our time here, but sooner or later we're going to start flipping over rocks, and this city isn't going to be ready for what crawls out from underneath. It's up to you whether or not you want to be a part of the discovery of the truth, or part of the possible bloodbath that might result."

  Marcus spooned his own vegetables out and pretended not to hear her for almost a
minute. The table became quite awkward until he spoke again, "Firstly Umaryn, that sounded like a threat. I don't appreciate that, and I certainly don't think I deserve it."

  She looked down. "You're right, I'm sorry," she apologized.

  "Second, I am fully aware of you and your brother's story from your time in Graben. I've half a mind to have you arrested for your crimes there against innocents, but I feel that what you did there you did for the right reasons, and I trust that when you say you mourn what you did, you mean just that."

  Malwynn looked very guilty.

  "And lastly, if I were to even associate my name with yours in this, it would be the end of my military life here in Varrland, the end of all I've worked for, and so close to a war with the Empire? The men who serve under me deserve a commander that is dedicated and focused. Not a leader who is distracted by some half witted inquisition, however righteous you feel it to be. I need to be a leader to my men, for my nation."

  The twins sighed in defeat.

  Mal shoveled some food into his mouth and chewed it before responding, "Marcus look, you are the only person we know, and we feel like we can trust here. One way or the other my sister and I are going to look into the Church, and we're going to find out who killed our parents, my fiancé, and our little sister. We just wanted, we just hoped someone in Daris who was in some position of power to be onboard with this."

  "Until you have some real proof of what you suspect, I cannot risk it, I'm sorry. I will give you advice, moral support, and I'll even invite you to my home for dinner, but this is incredibly thin ice for me to walk on. I wish I could do more."