The Cerberus Rebellion (A Griffins & Gunpowder Novel)

By Joshua K Johnson

War changes everything.

On the world of Zaria, Elves, magic and mythical beasts coexist beside rifles and railroads. The futures of two nations hang in the balance as rebels and revolutionaries trade gunfire with loyalists and tyrants.

The King of Ansgar, secure in his belief that his loyal nobles and fearful subjects answer to his every whim, seeks to gain favor with friends across the sea. But his decision to send armies thousands of miles away will test that fear, and loyalty.

In war, little is held back; in revolution, nothing is safe

A Novel of approximately 93,000 words.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Joshua K Johnson
• Release date: Oct 17, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301179305

Joshua K Johnson

Joshua Johnson is the creator of the Griffins & Gunpowder universe, A“Gunpowder Fantasy” setting that combines epic scale, magic and mythical creatures with rifles and railroads. He is the author of The Cerberus Rebellion, The Chesian Wars and more forthcoming works. When he isn't working or spending time with his family, he writes novels, short stories and novellas. He currently lives in Northern Illinois with his wife and young children.

Book preview

THE CERBERUS REBELLION

Joshua Johnson

THE CERBERUS REBELLION

Joshua Johnson

Smashwords Edition Copyright © 2012

All Rights Reserved.

AUTHOR’S NOTE

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the internet or any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

The Griffins & Gunpowder Universe

The Ansgari Rebellion

The Cerberus Rebellion

The Hydra Offensive

The Centaur Incursion (In Progress)

Collections

The Chesian Wars

Short Stories

The Red Dragon’s Gold

The Sithean Betrayal

The Gathering Storm

Chapter 1 - Eadric

A fist banged on the door.

Enter, Eadric Garrard, the King of Ansgar and Duke of Elsdon, called, his voice thick with irritation.

The door swung open and his captain of guards stepped through it.

Eadric could see the handle and pommel of Kendall Shield's greatsword Guardian over his shoulder. The guard was the perfect fit for the gargantuan weapon: he stood more than seven feet tall with massive shoulders. The blade was hereditary, as was the title of Lord of Shields and Protector of the King.

The Shield clan had once been called something else, but whatever that name had been, it had been lost to history twelve hundred years earlier when they had sworn themselves and their descendants to the protection of the King of Ansgar. From the twelve men that had sworn their service, a clan had emerged that now included more than twelve hundred men-at-arms. And chief among them was Kendall Shield. He was called Lord, but he held no lands. Only the right to be the personal guard to the king.

A much smaller man stepped through the door behind Kendall. He was olive skinned and of average height, his brown hair damp with sweat from climbing the winding tower steps. He wore a blue sack suit with the symbol of the nation of Welos sewn over his heart. He kept his green eyes focused at Eadric's feet. A mere messenger.

Eadric stood to greet his visitor.

Your Highness. Kendall went to one knee and bowed his head; the man behind him followed.

Rise, Eadric instructed.

Your Majesty, I bring a request from Lord Wyne, the messenger announced.

Considering your attire, I wouldn't have expected it to be from anyone else, Eadric said and snorted.

The messenger frowned. Your Majesty?

Never mind. The King shook his head. Messengers, after all, were not the smartest. Well, out with it.

Yes, Your Highness. The messenger's eyes returned to the floor. Lord Wyne and Lord Biton Savakis wish to have a private audience with you.

Eadric's eyes narrowed. While it was not uncommon for the ambassadors from other lands to request audiences with him, they usually did so while he held court, or through one of his council members.

It’s still early, Eadric pointed out with a glance at his pocket watch. I will see them after I break my fast. I will send someone to get them.

Your Majesty, his Lordship—

His Lordship, Eadric interrupted, is an ambassador. A visitor in my land. I will see them when it is convenient to me. You are dismissed.

Yes, Your Highness. The messenger bowed and backed out of the study; Kendall stayed.

Have my steward prepare my parlor for visitors, Eadric said.

Kendall nodded and withdrew.

The door groaned open once more. Eadric looked up, and his green eyes narrowed. It was his steward, the only person allowed to enter without permission. The man's leather shoes scuffed at the stone floor as he shuffled across the room toward the King's table. The servant was short, stout, and bald. He carried a silver carafe, a cup, a dome covered plate, and a folded newspaper on a tray. He set the tray on the desk and lifted the dome.

Eadric brushed a strand of chestnut hair out of his face. He saw the chunk of steak that had been cut at one end of the thick strip, and a piece of bacon half as long as the others. It has been tasted? he asked.

Yes, My King, the steward confirmed.

You may go, Eadric said curtly. The steward nodded and turned.

Eadric waited for the door to close behind the man, then sighed. He pulled open the small drawer at the top of his desk, reached inside, and retrieved a small round tin.

He twisted the lid off the tin with practiced ease and sniffed at the black and red powder within. Satisfied that it had not been tampered with, Eadric took a heavy pinch and sprinkled the powder across the plate, careful to get every part of the meal but waste none. Another heavy pinch went into the carafe of coffee. The powder was ground from the seeds of the Dragonleaf plant, which only grew in high mountain caves and passes. Each flower only produced enough seed for a pinch of salt and each plant only flowered twice a year.

By itself, the powder had a bitter taste to it, but when it was mixed with anything else it had no taste at all. It had taken years of practice and experience to find the right amount; too much and his stomach burned for days, too little and it would have no effect on the poisons that it was meant to counter.

He didn't know if he'd ever been saved by the salt, but he wasn't about to go without it. Every meal that the King ate was prepared and escorted to him under the watchful eyes of his guards, but even with all of those precautions, poisons could make their way into his meals.

Eadric poured himself a cup of coffee. The cup was made from the talon of a particularly large griffin, another method of warding off poisons. He sipped the coffee then lifted a piece of bacon and took a furtive bite. The Dragonsalt had dissolved enough so that all he tasted was the grease, black pepper seasoning, and pork. It was still floppy, the way that he liked it, but he had lost his appetite.

Eadric drained his cup with a single drink, picked up the newspaper, folded it, and turned for the door. Kendall waited outside with his arms folded. A guard stood on either side of the door. They stiffened when the King stepped through the doorway.

At the end of the hall, a young squire shot upright and hurried to the King's side. He was small, even for twelve. The boy was the son of one of Eadric’s more important lesser lords, though he always had trouble remembering which.

I need to prepare for my visitors, Eadric announced.

Yes, my lord. Kendall nodded. Landon and Radnor shouldered their rifled muskets and the five of them started down the passage.

The Old Keep was a tall, round structure with wide stairs along the inside of the thick walls. Kendall led the way down the winding stairwell. Eadric was a handful of steps behind him with his squire on his heels, Landon and Radnor another few steps further still behind. Servants and pages pressed themselves against the wall of the stairwell as the King passed, their heads bowed to their sovereign as he made his way toward the bottom of the tower.

Kendall stopped and held up his hand.

The screeching laughter of a child washed over the party as Crown Prince Tyler barreled up the steps, his sister Kara close on his heels. Behind the girl were the children’s guards. The four men breathed heavily as they worked to keep up with the children.

The boy was near his eighth year and was already the spitting image of his father: the same brown hair, green eyes and square jaw as his sire, and he was nearly as tall as his sister. She was eleven, with their mother’s chestnut hair and blue eyes.

Your Highness. Sir Vance Shield led the guards assigned to the Crown Prince.

He was Kendall’s half brother and was nowhere near as tall; he barely surpassed six feet. He had the same cold gray eyes, though. An elven broadsword hung from his left hip in an ornate scabbard. Not as impressive as Guardian but a symbol of his status nonetheless.

Eadric inclined his head in greeting.

Papa, Tyler said as he wrapped his arms around his father’s leg.

What is it, son? Eadric asked as he mussed his son’s hair.

Kara said that if I close my eyes at night, a manticore will come in and eat me! The boy shot his sister an accusing look. She smiled sweetly at her father. Tell her the manticores are all gone! That’s what Altavius said.

Altavius is right, Eadric confirmed. All of the manticores have gone from this world.

Are there any great creatures left, Father? Kara asked.

Griffins still live, far to the west along the sea cliffs. The dragons are all gone, though.

See, I told you there were still griffins! Kara laughed at her brother. Altavius told us of a noble who rides the griffins. He says that the noble has magics!

Eadric frowned. I would take what Altavius says about magic with some caution, child. He is prone to overstate things.

Yes, Father.

Run along now, Eadric instructed. Papa has work to do.

The children gave him quick hugs, then continued their screaming run up the tower steps. Their guards tried to keep up.

At the base of the Old Keep, outside of the King's Chambers, two men stood guard that Eadric had never seen before. They wore the uniforms of his guard, and even had the look of first branch Shields. They were tall and massive, with dark hair and wide brown eyes, but he didn't know them and didn't know that Kendall had made a change in his protection.

The men inclined their heads as the king strode by them wordlessly into his chambers. His squire and Kendall followed him.

Eadric didn't have to ask if the men were trained. Kendall wouldn't bring anyone into consideration for the King's protection if he wasn't sure of their abilities. Nonetheless, Eadric was hesitant. He disliked change in the group assigned to protect him. The men that served him were a critical part of Eadric's day-to-day existence, a part on which he relied heavily. If he didn't feel comfortable with those who protected him, how would he feel safe?

Dalton, get me a wool shirt and trousers. It's cool today, Eadric instructed his squire. The boy nodded and hurried to the King's clothing room. When the squire was out of earshot, Eadric said, Sir Randall and Sir Vincent have been on my guard since my father passed away. And they were on his guard before that.

Sir Randall and Sir Vincent are getting old. I wanted to replace them with younger, more capable men. Kendall stood at parade rest, his hands clasped in front of him. They are the twin sons of Sir Leopold.

At nearly five years younger than Eadric, the King had watched Kendall grow up. Eadric had known that the man would become his Lord Protector from the day he knew what a Lord Protector was. He had treated Kendall with more respect than he treated anyone outside his own family.

What would you have them reassigned to?

They have been assigned to protect your lady sister, Katherine.

The lesser branches and older of the first branch of the King's Shields were generally assigned to protect those lower in the line of succession to the throne. While Katherine had once been the eldest child of King Charles, she was now further in line of succession, after Eadric’s son and daughter, and his nephews.

Very well.

***

Sometime later, Eadric finished the last of another glass of whiskey. A half melted ice cube was left alone in the small glass. Even during the winter, ice was an expensive rarity shipped down from the north in massive chunks, but if anyone in Ansgar could afford the luxury of a cool drink, it was the king.

He nodded to his steward, tucked neatly into a corner away from the King and his guests. The man disappeared through the huge door and closed it behind him. Eadric had taken off his tailcoat, though he still wore his crown on his brown hair.

Eadric had decided to meet with his current guests in his parlor, a small room far from the noise and activity of the throne room or the council chambers, because all of the rooms beneath the castle had been built with the magic of ancient elven wizards. The elves had cast powerful incantations on the thick black stones so that they were always temperate to the touch. Tiny gemstone flecks in the stones sparkled in the lantern light.

Eadric stood at the only real table in the room, pushed against the back wall of the parlor. A grand map of the world was laid across the massive surface, each nation intricately drawn and painted on what Eadric supposed was an old leather hide. A box of markers was tucked beneath the table, used when troop movements and activities were discussed. Those markers were worn down from their once grand carving, the black stone smoothed from more than a thousand years of handling by kings, generals and advisors beyond Eadric's count.

The nation of Ansgar occupied the entire southern half of the continent and stretched more than fourteen thousand miles from Agilard in the east to the West Shore at the other end of the continent. In the west, the territories loyal to him reached from the Griffin Coast on the northern shore, nearly four thousand miles to Sea Watch Castle as it faced the south on the Vast Sea. His nation was the most narrow at the Tirrell Barony, only a few hundred miles from the coast to the nation's border with Franta. Ansgar was home to more than seventy-five million citizens, and Eadric was their king.

The parlor had once been a dark, empty place. When he had been crowned, Eadric had ordered tapestries hung to celebrate his family's many accomplishments in the twelve hundred years that they had ruled Ansgar. One of the massive hangings depicted his great-grandfather's victory over the Last King of Kerberos, the banner of his house raised above the red three-headed hellhound against black of Agilard. Another tapestry was a scene from much further back in the history of Ansgar: the first landing of settlers after the long and perilous journey from Welos.

Kendall stood in a small alcove near the door. His arms were crossed and his eyes watched the king’s guests with a flicker of suspicion. He did not concern himself with matters of foreign relations, but the law stated that when the King received guests, the Lord Protector was to be present.

Four over-sized dark red leather chairs were arranged in a rough circle in the center of the small room to allow for conversation. Each had a small, dark wood table beside it to hold drinks or a small plate. The floor was bare stone.

Each of the two guests occupied one of the large chairs. Both held a glass similar to Eadric's, though they remained on their first while Eadric was on his third. They had brought him heavy news and a grand request, but seemed to be at peace with the words that they carried.

Lord Thomas Wyne, ambassador to the nation of Welos, sat nearest the door. He was much smaller than Eadric, with short brown hair well salted with gray and dull brown eyes. He had the look of a career diplomat, one who had spent his life working outside of his own nation. He was a quiet man that chose his words carefully and was more than twice Eadric's age, sixty-five if Eadric's memory served him.

Lord Biton Savakis, ambassador to Istivan, was as close to opposite of Wyne as could be. He was a huge man, one of the largest Istivani that Eadric had ever seen, with arms like trees. His skin was a medium olive, his hair dark, and his green eyes sharp. His massive arms were heavily tattooed. Eadric could see the tattoos that marked him as a husband and father, a warrior that had spilled the blood of an enemy, and one that Eadric thought meant that the man had stood as a judge before the King of Istivan.

He was as loud and boisterous as Thomas was quiet and reserved. Nearing forty, he was only a few years older than Eadric, but he had garnered enough power in his homeland to earn his role as ambassador to Ansgar.

The two ambassadors had insisted that they meet in private, and at their request Eadric had left his closest advisors in the antechamber. Now he wished that his advisors had heard everything the two ambassadors had said. And what they had asked for.

You realize what you're asking for? These were Eadric’s first words since his second glass of whiskey.

Thomas spoke first, as was his place as the senior ambassador. We do realize that it would require a great investment on your part, and on the part of your people. His baritone voice was thick with the drawl of his homeland.

We would not have come to you if we did not need your help, Your Majesty. Biton was uncharacteristically soft. His accent was stronger, the sounds bunched closely together. But the situation is dire.

Indeed it is, Eadric said as he slipped his left hand into his pocket. He found the smooth stone there and rubbed it between his thumb and forefinger. The stone had been in his family for centuries. It was a rare gem from across the Vast Sea that had been given to one of his predecessors as a good luck charm. If what you say is true, and I have no reason to doubt it, then I'm astounded that King Mercer has been so short sighted that he has refused to join with you.

King Mercer is supremely confident in the strength of his army and the walls of his fortresses. We have offered him our help, before this storm descends upon him. He has been warned that once he is embroiled in conflict, we will not lend our aid to him. Maybe once the famed Citadel falls, he will consider his mistakes.

Why let him fall? If he is invaded and you add your armies to his, there is no way the Citadel will fall.

To teach him a lesson about pride. Biton shrugged. And once he falls, his lands are subject to whoever is strong enough to take them.

And the Citadel is a massive fortress. If Mercer can hold The Pinch with just his forces, all the better for us to not have to throw our armies into the fray. And if he falls, he will take enough of his enemy with him that we'll have much less trouble cleaning up the mess. If you join with us, Thomas added.

I'd like to bring my council in on this before I decide. Eadric paused when his steward opened the door a crack and slid back into the parlor with a bottle of whiskey and a glass of ice on a tray. He took Eadric's empty glass and slid back out into the hall. Eadric quietly sprinkled a pinch of Dragonsalt into the bottle and poured some over the ice.

Of course, Your Highness. It is a massive undertaking that we've asked of you. Thomas stood and Biton followed his lead. How long do you think that you would need to join us, should you decide that you wish to take that course?

It will take some time to get my nobles and their levies assembled, and I'll have to find the vessels to carry them across the Straits of Steimor. Eadric took a long drink from his glass. I would say a year is a safe estimate, though it will likely be longer than that.

Very good. We will await your word.

The two ambassadors bowed and Eadric nodded a dismissal.

Eadric set his glass down on the star that marked Aetheston's location on Zaria's northern continent. More than thirteen thousand miles separated Ansgar from the Istivani capital of Kirton, if one sailed through the Strait of Steimor and marched overland. Another eight thousand overland laid between Kirton and the Ehtroyan fortress known as The Citadel. Even by rail it would take his armies nearly a month to reach the Istivani capital.

The option of sailing his armies to Ehtroy was an alternative, although that too would take almost a month of sailing, and finding the ships to carry almost two hundred thousand soldiers would be nearly impossible.

Milord. Eadric's steward had entered, as silent as a whisper. Would you like me to summon your council?

Yes, please do, Charles.

Studying the lands he ruled, Eadric took note of the various sigils that marked the holdings of his many lords; the shields that marked the holdings of his dukes were the largest. The sigil of House Jarmann at Agilard, the only duchy east of Aetheston; the black Pegasus against white of House Chalmer in the West Valley, the castle nestled into the Spine Mountains against the border with Beldane; the blue hydra against orange of House Seward at Sea Watch, on the southwestern coast of Ansgar; the red centaur on a blue field of House Ridley in White Ridge, nestled between the Vast Sea on its south side and the three peaks of the White Ridge on its north; and the sparsely populated Arndell Duchy, represented by the golden hammer on gray of House Croutcher in the far western corner of the nation.

Smaller shields marked the eleven earls of Ansgar, two east of Aetheston and nine to the west. Shields smaller still marked the forty-two baronies that further divided the rest of the nation. He was not as familiar with the baronies as he was with the earldoms and duchies, but then he rarely had the occasion to deal with many of them.

He had, of course, met every one of his sworn nobles at his coronation, or their ascension, but the lesser nobles had smaller estates to care for and could scarcely afford frequent journeys to the capital to pay homage to their king.

Eadric was still focused on the map when the door groaned open and his council entered.

Your Majesty. Lord Alden Hanley, Earl of Hamilton, was a tall, slender man who leaned heavily on an ebony cane as he walked. Gray colored his brown hair and full beard, but his brown eyes were still sharp and careful.

Before Eadric's ascension to the throne of Ansgar, Alden had betrothed his oldest daughter to the Crown Prince. The move had established the earl as a close advisor to the new king when Eadric had come to power and the King gave extra weight to his opinion.

Lord Hanley. Eadric clasped the man's hands and inclined his head to his father by law.

Your Highness, you are looking well today, Lord William Richards said as he bowed.

Baron Saxon had long been one of Eadric's closest advisors. He had been brought to court at the age of five by his father to learn the ways of the capital. William and Eadric had been tutored by the same teachers, taught of swords by the same master at arms, and had ascended to their titles at nearly the same time. Eadric had raised him to Lord Councilor as one of his first acts.

He stood nearly the same height as Eadric, with a similarly athletic build. He was shaved bald, his thin mustache and well-kept red beard the only hint of his hair color.

Thank you, William. Eadric presented his signet ring for his friend to kiss.

My King, I see that the sums you have been spending on Dragonsalt have not been in vain, Lord Peter Wellstone said with a smile. As the Chancellor of Ansgar it was his responsibility to keep the kingdom's books and accounts.

He was the youngest man in the room, only just into his twenty-fifth year. He had been apprenticed to the last Chancellor, his childless uncle the previous Earl Colby, and had taken to his studies with fervor. He carried a stack of ledgers with him, books filled with figures on the kingdom's incomes, expenses, and coffers. He was a small man and his blue eyes glanced back and forth every so often as if of their own volition.

A pinch before bed helps me sleep, Eadric lied.

Your Majesty, said a lilting, sweet voice.

Altavius Dohr's accent was less pronounced than it had once been, or so Eadric was told, but it still marked him as one not native to Ansgar’s common tongue.

The elf was the oldest member of Eadric's council. He was, in fact, the oldest person on this side of the world, at least as far as anyone knew. He had traveled across the Vast Sea twelve hundred years earlier with the first colonists to leave Welos and had served as advisor to every king since Liam the First.

Altavius' eyes had once