Dustfall, Book Five - What Lies Beneath Read online

  Table of Contents

  Dustfall, Book Five - What Lies Beneath

  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 17

  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

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Epilogue

  About J. Thorn

  About Glynn James

  Dustfall, Book Five - What Lies Beneath

  The thrilling conclusion...

  As the war escalates, Jonah faces the greatest challenge of his life. With the unification of the clans and their survival on the brink of collapsing, and with enemies closing in from all directions, he must face the darkest threat in this thrilling conclusion of an epic adventure.

  From bestselling authors J. Thorn and Glynn James comes Dustfall, a new post-apocalyptic series chronicling one man’s challenge and his epic quest to save what remains of humanity.

  Dustfall, Book Five - What Lies Beneath

  First Edition

  Copyright © 2019 by J. Thorn and Glynn James

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, places, and dialogue are drawn from the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Edited by:

  Laurie Love

  Chapter 1

  The headless walked amongst them.

  The night had come like a phantom, and it brought the chill of the long dead. Fires crackled, and the priests spoke in hushed whispers as the camp prepared for the hours of darkness.

  He twisted in the stained and bloody fabric taken from the sack of a fallen Elk warrior. Gaston had curled his body into the fetal position around the fire, but the flame did little except cast a low flicker on the side of the wall. The priests had followed along with several refugees from the fight, far enough away from the battlefield to bed down for the night.

  Carlossa’s head had been exploded by Seren. Exploded.

  He’d known as soon he’d heard Loner describe what had happened. The girl had found—or been given—a weapon from the past. Gaston had seen a rifle fired once, the instantaneous and certain death a stark contrast to the bloody, hand—to—hand combat used in the ruins and beyond.

  And so it was no surprise that the imagery had burrowed into his subconscious and had come alive in his nightmares.

  Gaston turned over, feeling the cold air bite his nose while the flame warmed the small of his back. He grimaced and gasped, caught between reality and his dream.

  “Gaston! Come!”

  He ran, his short legs pumping hard as he leapt over the sprawled bodies of the dead. Flames raced from one thatched roof to another, destroying the only village the boy had ever seen.

  “What is happening?”

  But he had known and dared not speak their name. His mother did instead.

  “It is the Valk,” she said, her eyes flittering and her hair wild about her head. “We must hide in the forest.”

  “What are they doing?”

  “It is time for the offering.”

  Gaston’s mother grabbed the boy by the arm and dragged him out of the way of a villager fleeing upon a horse. He screamed something at them both as he rode past.

  “We must hide.”

  He ran behind her, past the privy and the pepper crop and toward the tree line bordering the village—the place she’d forbidden him to go his entire life. They couldn’t be headed for that. Impossible.

  “Where?”

  “Away from the village. From the others.”

  She jumped over fallen trees and around thick brambles of thistle and thorn. Gaston followed.

  A guttural growl came from the village, stopping Gaston. He turned to look over his shoulder.

  “No! Don’t stop!” She yanked his arm again.

  He watched his mother’s skirt and apron flapping as she ran, and Gaston couldn’t remember if the red streaks on it had been from a cooking pot of tomatoes or from the blood of his kinsman. In the end, it wouldn’t matter.

  “There.” She pointed at the semi—hollow trunk of a massive oak. Ivy snaked around the trunk and the massive canopy had struck the ground barren around it, preventing the sunlight and suffocating the low growth.

  Gaston looked around. He could smell the smoke and hear the death throes of those in the village, but the trees had obscured any sight line he had. Deeper than he’d ever been in the forest, Gaston felt as though they’d crossed a threshold into another world.

  His mother pulled him inside and they pushed back against the inside of the tree, nothing but the sound of their heavy breathing filling the cramped space. Gaston looked out at the forest, realizing they’d found a hiding space, but one with no escape.

  After waiting for several minutes, Gaston’s mother spoke in a soft whisper while pulling his head to her shoulder.

  “Cilian. He would not offer his son willingly and so the Valk have come for all of us. They took Cilian’s boy anyway. It is best to honor the offering, sacrificing one for the sake of many.”

  “Why must they kill the offering?”

  “They don’t always do such.”

  Gaston shook his head, the world making even less sense now than it had when the monsters had stormed his village an hour ago.

  “Sometimes,” she said while tucking her feet beneath her legs, “they do not kill the offering.”

  “How do you know, mama?”

  “Because I was given to the Valk.”

  Gaston winced, both at the time and in his dream recollection. He had believed that they held no secrets between them. “When?”

  “A long time ago.”

  “Before I was born?”

  “Yes.”

  A rustling came from outside and the boy kept his eyes on his mother’s face, refusing to acknowledge what was stalking the woods around them.

  She paused, and Gaston could feel the pain in her words.

  “Your father,” she said.

  “Gone. As you told me.”

  “I didn’t tell you the entire story. You see, you don’t have a Cygoa father.”

  Gaston felt his face flush. “Every boy has a father. I’m not a stupid child, mother.”

  “No, no. That’s not what I meant. I don’t know who your father is.”

  He’d known how women and men lay together. Th
e natural world had certain unbreakable laws. How could she not know?

  “There is much about my time with the Valk I cannot remember. Things my mind hides from me, for my own health.”

  Gaston nodded.

  “The Valk returned me to our village. I was with child.”

  “Me?”

  He could feel her head nod and her single cold tear on the back of his hand. Grunts and groans came from outside. More creatures of the night had arrived, and now he was not sure they didn’t know who was in the tree.

  “You are special, Gaston. A cross—breed—a mix of man and Valk. But you cannot tell anyone, ever. They will most certainly kill you if they know you are a child of the Valk.”

  “Am I a monster, mother?”

  “No, no, honey. You are my son. It makes you special. I will always love and protect you. But promise me you will never speak of this. To anyone.”

  “I promise.”

  The vile creatures. The taint. None of that concerned Gaston. Although he had no way of proving what his mother had told him as a child, he had no reason to doubt it either. She had been a good woman and not prone to dishonesty, for any reason.

  Over the years, he realized that his mother had unknowingly protected him in another way. He had never gotten sick, never struck down by the taint. Gaston had the ability to move through regions that killed other men in less time that it took for the sun to set. And as best as he could tell, the Valk seemed to be immune as well.

  He had kept that promise to her, and yet, he felt as though he might have to break it at some point. As the world collapsed the few remaining tribes fought with the Valk over humanity’s scraps, Gaston anticipated alliances that would have been unthinkable even a year ago.

  His bedroll was soaked, and the flame had gone out hours before, leaving the early morning air frigid and damp. Gaston felt an ache in his back as shouting came from nearby.

  Chapter 2

  She had decided to let them gorge. A feast was suitable for battle, war was for gorging. Ruk had led the Valk for several years, slowly dispensing of stronger and more experienced rivals. Several coups had been planned. All foiled. This would be a new era for her people and she would lead the Valk from beneath the dark depths.

  Ruk had strolled across the causeway, her mind replaying the death sequences of the day. She’d slain several—dozens—of the enemies, on both sides. The Cygoa and Elk would be no match for Ruk’s army, and neither would be a threat if they continued to battle each other over such nonsense.

  The causeway? Had this been the impetus for war? Hardly. While the taint had become concentrated in specific regions, every square inch of this land had been contaminated. And it would be for all time.

  “Descent?”

  Ruk turned to look at one of her primary lieutenants. The man had painted an inverted, black cross on his forehead before the battle, a symbol he’d found in a rotting, ancient tome. After the fight, it had been splattered with the enemy’s blood.

  “Yes, of course.” Ruk waved her hand and the lieutenant bowed before sending a series of commands with his horn.

  She looked at the water, the corpses floating in it. They would suffice, but the ceremony called for the fresh, untainted bodies of warriors. Whatever was in that water would turn the flesh in a matter of hours, if it hadn’t already.

  A path had been trampled by the Valk warriors from the cave mouth to the edge of the road leading to the causeway. Hundreds of feet had turned the ground cover vegetation into a pulverized, green sludge heaped upon the dry dirt. She had been concerned about the Elk discovering their barracks, but none had found this particular entrance. Trails of amber snaked through the mud where bodies had bled out while being dragged beneath the surface.

  Ruk watched two younger warriors, each with an arm, pulling a dead Cygoa toward the cave. They paused and bowed before her.

  “Go.”

  They nodded and continued down.

  She was about to slide into the comforting darkness of the earth’s depths when a shout from beyond the causeway caught her attention. Ruk put a hand over her forehead, shielding her eyes from the rays of the setting sun in the west.

  Scouts? Prisoners of war?

  As they came closer, she could see that they’d been spared the battle because the maroon streaks on their cloaks had to have come from blood spilled in a previous battle. They had no cuts, no injuries, but both appeared out of breath. Ruk decided not to kill these children. Although the Valk punished their own without mercy, she sensed an urgency in these two and decided to hear what they had found.

  “Mistress.”

  “Yes,” she said, waving her arm and asking them to stand up. “We are taking our spoils, preparing for the celebration.”

  One nervous boy looked at the other but neither spoke.

  “Do not stall or soften the sound of your words into something you think I want to hear. Tell me this instant or you’ll die where you stand.”

  The boy on the left spoke. “Galax.”

  The name of the settlement brought a chill up Ruk’s back and to the base of her skull. She grimaced and spit onto the dusty, cracked asphalt.

  “What of it?”

  “Someone is there.”

  She turned her head sideways and stared at the boy who had been speaking until he looked away. Ruk did the same to the other boy. Ruk didn’t understand the reluctance. She’d rarely killed the messenger—only when what was delivered had been completely false. It didn’t feel as though the boys were lying to her.

  “Who? Elk? Cygoa?”

  “We’re not sure.” The boy on the right spoke for the first time, his voice thin and tinny. “There was definitely movement on the outskirts.”

  “What ‘movement?’ Did you see nomads, vagabonds, warriors?”

  Both boys shook their heads and Ruk could smell the lice in their hair.

  “Then what? We’ve taken out the biggest threats, right here. We will be feasting—no gorging—on Elk and Cygoa warriors for days, maybe weeks. Our numbers have swelled and our labyrinth thrives beneath this rotten place. What could I possibly want to know about who is crawling amongst the ruins of Galax?”

  Ruk regretted the comment the moment it left her lips. She realized she was undermining her own intelligence network. If she discouraged the scouts from reporting suspicions to her for fear of punishment, they would simply stop reporting.

  “An extra right hand and warrior heart for each of you if you can tell me more.”

  The offer of extra spoils brought a blackened smile to the face of both boys.

  “Others.”

  “What?” Ruk asked the boy on the left. “What does that mean?”

  “Older people. Not Elk. Not Cygoa. Others. Dressed in garb of gray, from head to toe.”

  “What were they doing?”

  “Walking around. Picking berries.”

  “Not fighting?”

  Both boys shook their heads again.

  “Did they see you?”

  “No.”

  Ruk knew they hadn’t, but she had to ask anyway. She would taste him. She would. “The Elk leader? Jonah. Did you see him?”

  “No. No Elk. No Cygoa. Others.”

  The greatest power ran through the flesh of the one called Jonah. Ruk would not stop until she sucked the marrow from his bones. Instead of allowing her disappointment to blossom, she smiled and nodded at the boys who grinned at her, happy not to have to deal with Ruk’s glaring stare like they did when she’d first summoned them.

  “None of Jonah’s lieutenants?”

  “No.”

  So he was still here, in the area. Had the scouts reported seeing the Elk leader near Galax, it would have meant the man was on the move and travelling faster than Ruk thought possible.

  “Go now. You shall each get your extra spoils. As promised.”

  Their excitement seemed to make them forget about Ruk’s threats when they first emerged from the trees and she hoped the promise of extra sp
oils would keep all of her scouts sharp and honest.

  The lieutenant with the horn had returned and appeared next to Ruk as the scouts disappeared into the cave.

  “What is your command?”

  Ruk sighed and gazed at the water. “Galax. The holy ground.”

  “Yes? What of it my lady?”

  “Have there been reports? Have there been nomads camped out there?”

  “Not to my knowledge.”

  “Interesting.” Ruk leaned in and down until her eyes were within inches of the lieutenant’s inverted cross. “The scouts were telling the truth. So who is near those ruins and what are they doing?”

  “We have more flesh here than we can consume in a fortnight. The two enemy forces are decimated. Who cares who is at Galax?”

  Ruk reached down and grabbed the man’s balls. She twisted until he doubled—over, gasping for breath.

  “I do. Send a squad. No less than twenty warriors. I want to know who is there and what they are doing.”

  Ruk released her grip on the man’s testicles and stepped back, watching him wheeze with his hands on his knees.

  “Understood?”

  “Yes, yes. As you command.”

  She watched him slink away into the darkness, both hands thrust beneath his cloak. Ruk chuckled and looked at the water once more.

  Fighting over water. The surface dwellers were so predictable.

  Chapter 3

  Jonah crouched down by the barely twitching body and wiped the blood from his ax on the dead man’s shirt. The Valk warrior had been half a foot taller than he, and wider of shoulder, and moments before had come bellowing from the tree line swinging a spiked club.

  He’d heard the first movement moments before that, and had his ax already raised, but the man had moved at such a speed that Jonah had to side step to avoid being knocked to the ground.

  His first swing had taken the big warrior in the left knee, nearly severing the limb, but Jonah had been off balance and unable to put his full weight into the attack, but the ax came free as the Valk tumbled to the ground, and Jonah’s next swing buried the ax head into the middle of the man’s back.

  That was when the twitching had started, and it seemed to go on forever as Jonah stood nearby, half watching the dying man and half tracing the line of the trees, and the shadows beyond for more movement.