Awakenings: War Drums

By Erin M. Klitzke

Phelan Conrad came to the ruins of a Midwest university campus to help Seers Marin Astoris and Thom Ambrose survive in a wholly changed world. But it seems that his presence may do more harm than good to the knot of Michigan survivors as they face escalating supernatural threats from all sides–including a goddess of Death.

Gray Miller and his friends found Aoife O’Credne wandering the Pennsylvania woods and took her in. They didn’t realize that by doing so, they’d be sucked into a supernatural war more than a hundred generations old.

Neve Vaughan has carried a heavy burden–a magic sword as old as myth itself–since her return from beyond the pale. When she finally finds the man destined to carry it, she believes that burden has been lifted–until she realizes that keeping the man she’s come to love alive is going to be a far more difficult task than she ever imagined.

The forces of darkness gather--is there any hope for heroes in a shattered world?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Erin M. Klitzke
• Release date: May 12, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301493562

Erin M. Klitzke

Erin M. Klitzke has been writing since she was an adolescent, though most of those early works will never see the light of day. She got her BA in history and anthropology from Grand Valley State University and her MA in history from Oakland University, and much to her mother’s occasional dismay, what she does with those degrees is write fiction. She lives in Detroit’s northern suburbs and enjoys reading, sewing, gaming, and renaissance festivals when she’s not creating her own worlds. You can find her on the web at www.embklitzke.com, e-mail her at doc (at) embklitzke (dot) com, and follow her on Twitter at @EMBKDoc.

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Awakenings: War Drums

Book Two of the Awakenings Saga

a serial by

Erin M. Klitzke

Smashwords edition

Taliesin Ambrose Books

Copyright © 2014 Erin M. Klitzke

Disclaimer and Copyright

This is a work of fiction, one that deals with themes of religion and the paranormal. All resemblance to actual individuals, living or dead, is coincidental.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or distributed to other people without providing compensation to the author. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and didn’t purchase it, or did not purchase it for your own personal use, please consider heading to your favorite ebook retailer and picking up your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.

Published by Taliesin Ambrose Books

Troy, MI 48083

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without permission from the author except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.

Cover design by Erin M. Klitzke. Stock art from Dreamstime.com. Components used with permission.

Author’s Note

Awakenings originally appeared as serial fiction at www.embklitzke.com/awakenings. It continues to be updated there. The version you are about to read is edited and enhanced from the online original. I hope you enjoy this version of the story.

While edits have taken place, the core of the story is the same—the strange, wonderful odyssey of those who survived the end of everything.

If you come across errors in the text while reading, please contact the author at [e-mail] and reference the chapter and ebook version number so the error can be corrected in later versions.

Current version: 2.0

Dedication

For the early fans – it’s because of you that I keep going.

Prologue

Kira watched the sky, the wind whipping her hair back from her face as she watched lightning lick through the sky, far enough away that she couldn’t hear its thunder. She shivered, clutching her sweater tighter around herself.

No one for a dozen miles and more. Us. The horses, the chickens, and the wild. And we’re the lucky ones? She looked back over her shoulder, toward the cabin’s big front window. She couldn’t see any movement inside. The lamps were still dark. He was still in bed. That was best. He needed all the rest he could get after what he’d gone through.

Turning back to the woods and sky, she exhaled a quiet breath. I hope they’re all right at the university. Maybe I shouldn’t have let him talk me into coming here instead. Maybe we should have gone to them, gotten them, brought them with us. She suppressed a smile. Of course, then I’d have had to find a way to explain everything to Thom. That wouldn’t have gone over well. Not after I sent that letter.

The letter. She hoped it had made it to him in time. The opportunity to call him before everything came apart, the one that she’d hoped for, had never come.

I’m sure he’s worried. I hope Phelan made it there, was able to explain. Knowing Phelan, he’d probably made a grand mess of things. But that was all right--it was Phelan. He’d get himself into trouble, and he’d get himself back out again, too. That was his modus operandi, how he functioned. All would be well.

The cabin door opened quietly. She didn’t turn, just reached a hand back toward Teague, whose fingers slid into hers as he shuffled up beside her.

How long have you been out here? he asked quietly, squeezing her hand.

I’m not sure. Time is relative now, anyhow. A little while. Didn’t want to disturb you.

Teague nodded slightly and followed her gaze toward the storm. Another nasty one, he murmured. I didn’t see this coming.

Her fingers tightened. You didn’t see what coming?

The storms, he said, lips barely moving, his strange eyes darkening slightly, troubled. So many storms. And the quakes. I didn’t know it would be this bad. I knew it would be bad, but not this bad.

She tensed for a moment. The quakes had stopped after the first few weeks, but she’d thought he’d slept through them. She stared at him, unable to hide her surprise.

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "I wasn’t sleeping that whole time, a chuisle mo chroí. Sometimes I was just resting my eyes. His expression smoothed out again as he took a few steps away from her, down onto the stone path that led from the gravel drive up to the cabin’s porch. He leaned back against the corner of the railing, wincing slightly as he crossed his arms. He made it there," he said quietly.

Kira joined him on the pathway, putting her arm around his shoulders. Who are you talking about?

My cousin, Teague murmured. He made it there. Took him long enough, the bastard. His nose wrinkled slightly and he shivered. I should have mentioned that sooner.

Are you telling me that he wasn’t there when everything...when this... She clammed up, waving a hand at the sky, at the world beyond the cabin. "He wasn’t there? When it all came down, he wasn’t there?" How long were they alone? Did they even make it out? Goddammit all, he was supposed to warn them what was coming. He was supposed to prepare them, to help them be ready to face it. Pounding rose behind her eyes and she almost snarled, fingers digging into the flesh of her husband’s shoulder. So help me god, if he was late and Thom died because he was fragging late, I’ll march myself a thousand miles just to ram my foot up his ass--and then do worse.

Teague winced. "A little more vehemence, a chuisle, and you’d be able to do that from here. I’m sure they’re fine. He stared toward the lake for a moment, invisible beyond the tree line, then through the trees toward the roadway a few miles from the patch they’d claimed as their own. Though I think it will be a long, long while before we hear from them."

Kira swallowed hard. What have you seen?

A lot of things, he whispered softly, reaching up to touch her hand before he took a step forward, into the waning light. "Most of which I can only just barely remember, thanks to the Dirae. Bloody poison burns more memory than flesh." He sighed quietly, hand drifting toward the mostly-healed wound. The poultices he’d shown her how to make had finally done the trick on it, at least.

Her arms closed around his shoulders from behind and she rested her chin against his shoulder. They can’t find us here, right?

He shook his head. No, he whispered. Not yet, anyway, but others can. He kissed one of her hands, then stared at the sky. Rumblings of thunder were closer now. The storm would be here soon.

Light the lamps, Teague said quietly. And write a letter to your cousin. Someone will come to carry it soon.

She stiffened in surprise and looked at him. He smiled faintly and leaned back to whisper in her ear.

It’s beginning.

He turned and walked back into the cabin, leaving her there, if only for a moment, alone.

The beginning. She looked back over her shoulder again. But the beginning of what, my love?

The beginning of what?

One

Matt stared at the metal laid out on his makeshift anvil. He could hear Thom cursing about something back on the construction site. Probably something going wrong with his plans, Matt thought with a wry smile. Either that or he tripped over something. That’d be a yelp, though, not swearing.

At least the pipework was done for now. They’d laid the last of the metal heating conduits yesterday. Old-fashioned radiant heat, Professor Doyle had said with a grin. It’d make sleeping on the floors more attractive. After nearly four and a half weeks, they’d grown increasingly used to that. At least now they were starting to have walls around them rather than just the tent, though most of them still slept there for the time being, and all of them still ate there, clustered around the fire.

Twenty-some survivors against the wild, changed world.

Are you trying to bend it like a spoon?

Matt jumped, startled, then glared at Phelan.

Too damn quiet. No. Where did you come from?

He jerked a thumb back over his shoulder. With Greg, planting holly along the back edge of the settlement. Wandered back when Brandon showed up to relieve me.

The settlement. Is that what we’re calling it now? I guess it’s better than camp. Matt nodded. And you came here?

Phelan cocked his head to one side, then shrugged. Seemed like a good idea at the time. He pointed at the iron laid out on the anvil. What’s all this for? If you try to cold-hammer that, it’s not going to be pleasant, you know.

Matt stared at him for a moment, eyes narrowing. What do you know about forging? Do I tell him I want to find a way to make us some kind of weapons, so we’re ready in case those things come back? Something iron, not steel? He glanced back toward where he’d leaned J.T.’s claymore against a pile of boxes and other supplies. That was beyond his capabilities--for now, anyway.

Maybe not for too long, though. It’s not like I’ve got anything else to concentrate on right now.

Phelan followed his gaze and smiled briefly. I might know a thing or two, he said lightly.

You know, Marin might have the patience for that, but I really don’t right now. The image of his sister flying through the air, thrown by something Matt could only perceive when he didn’t try to look at it straight-on, was still fresh in his mind, still froze his heart inside his chest. Cut the bullshit, Phelan. Do you know something about forging and blacksmithing, or not? Because if you don’t, I’ve got a lot of experimenting to do.

The red-head winced, rocking back against his heels. Sorry, he mumbled. His voice took on an almost distant quality, though his tone was serious and firm. I know quite a bit. Used to be one in another lifetime. He shook his head. You’ll need a forge, something enclosed so we can get things good and hot. In time, a better anvil than this. He rapped a knuckle against the one that stood between them. Matt’s nose wrinkled again.

Tell me something I didn’t know, Phelan. What else?

Technique is more easily shown than described. Phelan nodded to the metal on the anvil. Tools, or weapons?

Both, Matt said. Phelan kept right on staring at him, almost looking through him, and Matt sighed. All right. Weapons first. I just keep seeing my sister getting hurt--keep seeing that fight over and over again. He set his jaw. We can’t rely on the birdshot forever because at some point we’re going to run out and have a hard time making more. Besides, the scatter’s dangerous if we’re shooting into melee. We need something hand-to-hand, something for when they’re close. He glanced down at the iron on the anvil and shook his head. You said that the iron or steel would be good. I’m not sure I’m ready for steel, but we’ve got the scrap iron to work with. Might as well put it to good use.

Phelan scratched the back of his neck, where his tattoo lay. He’d cropped his hair short within days of his arrival here, revealing intricate green and silver knotwork inked there. The only one who hadn’t seemed surprised to see it was Marin. That was par for the course as far as Matt was concerned. There wasn’t nearly enough that surprised his sister these days.

Working with the scrap’s going to be a bitch, he warned.

Matt snorted. "You act like we’ll have something else to work with."

Point taken. Phelan sighed, meeting his gaze head-on. You’re sure about this?

I’m going to do it with or without your help. Does that answer your question?

A faint smile tugged at the corner of Phelan’s mouth. He nodded. Pretty much. Come on. Let’s see if we can find some bricks and concrete. Then we’ll figure out a good place to put up your forge.

They left Matt’s makeshift workspace and checked on their supplies. There were still a few bags of concrete that hadn’t gotten wet or otherwise damaged in one of the tents. Phelan grumbled and fretted as he looked over the array of bricks they had available, but he did it in his native tongue so Matt could only catch snatches--and those snatches were mostly curses, since apparently cursing in English was a more exquisite expression of his displeasure than in Erse or whatever Phelan’s native tongue actually was. Matt just crossed his arms and waited, frowning.

Are we going to be able to do it or not? he asked after about ten minutes of impatience. Do we need to go cannibalize something to make it work?

Maybe, Phelan said. There was an art program here, right? Maybe we can take apart the kilns.

Matt grimaced. The truck didn’t really work anymore, and it’d be a long haul with heavy pieces of the kiln from Calder all the way over here. He nodded anyway. Yeah. It’ll be a bitch, though.

Phelan looked at him innocently. Why?

Because the kilns are at the far end of campus, Matt said. If we’re lucky, the building’s still standing. If we’re unlucky, the whole thing’s collapsed into the ravine and we’ll have made the hike for nothing.

Phelan studied him for a moment, then shrugged. Eh. We’ll sort it out. Everyone here knows how to get there, right? I’ll just have to have a look when we go to do the hallowing.

He says that like it’s of no consequence. I’d swear he lives in a dream-world half the time. Matt made a face but nodded. Yeah. Right.

Phelan clapped him on the shoulder and gave him a devil-may-care grin. "Cheer up, deartháir. Hate to see your face freeze like that."

Matt glared at him and Phelan laughed.

Come on. Let’s find a place for your forge. Where there’s a will, there’s a way. You’ve got the will. I’ll find the way.

• • •

Thom’s cursing had tapered away to nothing by the time Matt and Phelan joined him under the pop-up tent at the center of the settlement’s construction zone. He’d slumped into the folding chair near his makeshift desk and was scowling at the papers strewn across it, a pencil over his ear and another drumming irritably against the desktop.

Phelan didn’t seem to notice the other man’s foul mood. Hey, Thom? You guys drew a map of the proposed layout of the place, right?

Matt tried to smother a grimace as Thom looked sharply up at Phelan. Here comes the wrath.

Rory’s got it right now, Thom said. His eyes narrowed. Why?

Phelan jerked a thumb toward Matt, who crossed his arms. We’re trying to find a spot to set up a forge for Matt.

A forge? Thom glanced at Matt, sour expression melting into a quizzical look. Like you made noises about a few weeks ago?

I did mention something about that a few weeks ago, didn’t I? When I had them haul he anvil back. Matt nodded. Yeah, something like that. Phelan’s going to help me get my shit together.

Thom’s eyes flicked to Phelan. Matt rocked back against his heels as a ghost of a smile flitted across Thom’s expression.

Shit. Does he actually like Phelan? That was unexpected. Matt was fairly sure that the two men wouldn’t get along, given everything that Phelan claimed, everything that he represented--for Thom, for all of them.

Then again, Thom seemed different since Phelan had come, but Matt had chalked that up to Thom’s engagement to Matt’s older sister, Marin. As he stood there, staring at his brother-to-be, he felt confusion bubbling up from somewhere deep in his belly. Anyway, Matt said, breaking the awkward momentary silence, do you have any suggestions? About where we should maybe grid out a space? There’s room, right?

Oh, yeah. Of course there’s room. Thom pushed himself upright with a wince and reached for his crutches. He’d barely begun to recover from the injuries he’d sustained in the meteorfall that had ended the world when they’d been attacked by the Shadow Man and his legion of bat-winged monsters. It was like something out of a comic book or a fantasy movie except it had been real. Thom had aggravated his original injuries when he’d tried to come to Marin’s rescue during the fighting. It was understandable--he loved her fiercely, beyond logic and reason. His injuries were healing now, but slowly--just like everyone else. Come on, I’ll show you a spot I think might work out. Pretty close to one of the dorms, so we’ll be able to salvage some bricks, too. His brows knit and he paused in the process of getting his crutches under his arms. Tala said something about maybe putting together a brick oven later, but I’m not sure if she was talking about one to bake bricks or bread. Maybe I should’ve asked her. He shrugged slightly and waved a dismissive hand before he started to limp out from the small tent and into the autumn sunshine. Weeks of rain had left the ground sodden, though it was slowly starting to dry out as days passed, sunny and breezy.

Well, that’s a relief, Matt said. At least I think it is. Neither he nor Phelan had to hurry to keep up with Thom’s limping gait as he led them toward the rear of the gridded-out settlement, past the makeshift shelters of storage sheds salvaged from the local home improvement warehouse. They were still laying additional roofing over the clusters of those and debating how to insulate them against the coming Michigan winter--no one knew how much time they’d have before that hit.

Beyond the spot where Thom had made noises about building the bathhouse, a few dozen yards from the well, Thom stopped walking. He turned back to the other two and leaned against one crutch, a trace of pain crossing through his expression as his ribs probably protested against the shifting of his weight. What about right here?

Phelan immediately began to pace the area, muttering to himself under his breath. He crouched, checking the grade, touched the ground to check the drainage, then bounced back to his feet. He resumed pacing, presumably doing mental calculations, gesturing to himself as he seemed to map out the forge they were thinking about building. Matt just watched him, dumbfounded.

Either he knows what he’s about, or he’s completely out of his mind, and so am I for asking his advice in the first place. The fact that Phelan has mostly volunteered his supposed expertise momentarily escaped Matt’s notice as Thom edged closer, watching Phelan with as much morbid fascination as Matt.

So what brought up the whole forge issue? Thom murmured, still leaning more on one crutch than the other, probably to make it easier to keep weight off his bad ankle.

Are you sure you want to know? Matt frowned. Bah. He’s not going to get upset over wanting to defend ourselves against whatever’s out there. We both know it.

Thom smiled ruefully. Maybe not, but I’m asking anyway. Out with it.

After another moment of silent indecision, Matt just shook his head. Weapons. God knows we need them for when those things come back for another stab at us.

Thom’s lips thinned. Because we know they’ll come, he murmured, shivering slightly. Matt put a hand on his arm.

You okay?

Yeah, Thom said quietly, his eyes on Phelan. "Just thinking. The damned things talked to me, Matt. That day when Mar almost died? The one that grabbed us talked to me and then it laughed at me. That’s not going to happen again."

Shivers shot down Matt’s spine. Shit and goddamn. Does Marin know?

No. Just Jay and Phelan. Now you. It stays that way until I say otherwise.

Right, Matt said quietly, marveling at how much his relationship with Thom had changed in a matter of days since the end of the world they’d known. Matt had to admit that it was easier on all of them when he and Thom were getting along instead of fighting about stupid, petty things like whether or not Matt thought Thom was good enough for his big sister, or what aspects of said equation were his business.

No, being friends with Thom was better, even if it wasn’t always easier.

Weapons are a good idea, Thom said, still watching Phelan. "Any advantage we can get over anyone and anything else is good for the long run in my book. His gaze flicked away momentarily, toward where some of the others were working on laying additional roofing over their shelters. We’ve still got a lot of work to do, and fewer hands to do it than before."

It’ll get done, Matt said, trying to inject as much confidence as possible into his voice. It’s got to if we’re going to live long enough for everything you and Marin have seen to come true.

He regretted the words as soon as they came out of his mouth and is wince matched Thom’s. In more than one vision, Thom had seen Marin’s death, and he’d recruited Matt to help him make sure that particular prophecy didn’t come to pass.

Brilliant, Matt. You went and brought it up.

Well, Thom said, most of them, anyway.

Matt put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently. We won’t let anything happen to her, Thom. Not everything has to be, right?

Yeah, Thom said, then shook himself, looking at Phelan. Well? Will it work or won’t it?

Phelan looked up from gesturing to himself and pacing. Huh? Oh, yeah. I think it will. We’ll just have to do a little work on it, that’s all. We’ll have to build up a little mound and lay some foundation work and--

Fine, Thom said, turning to go. We’ll discuss the particulars after dinner. I’ve got some stuff I have to check on.

As Thom limped away, Phelan dusted his hands off on the seat of his jeans and shot Matt a quizzical look.

What’s wrong with him?

Just something I said, Matt muttered, damning himself for a fool.

One step forward, two steps back. If Marin finds out, she’ll take a piece out of my hide for it.

Of course, his sister would never find out, because that was the one secret that Thom didn’t have the guts to tell her. No matter how much he loved her--no matter how much anyone loved another person--it was a terrifying thing to tell them that you had trouble believing in your own awakened ability because you’d seen their death in a vision and couldn’t bear it.

Matt sighed and shook his head, then started following in Thom’s wake, Phelan on his heels.

Two

Greg Doyle watched Matt and Phelan walk past, trailing in Thom’s wake. He wiggled his fingers absently as he did. His arm itched but didn’t hurt anymore, not like it had in those first few days after the break. He could move his hand and fingers without pain now and he took that as a good sign. Maybe there wouldn’t be a need for another re-splinting after this one.

Jacqueline smacked him in the knee. Stop moving, Professor. I have to get this splint all the way back on before you start getting ambitious again.

He laughed quietly and stopped, fingers going still as Jacqueline shook her head and eased his arm splint back into place. Sorry, Jac. I was just thinking.

About how to get more dirt under your bandages? she asked, not unkindly. He laughed again.

No, nothing like that. It just seems like it’s getting easier.

Her gaze flicked up to him, brows knitting. What’s getting easier?

Greg waved his good hand at the activity going on around where they sat near the freshly dug and masoned well. This. Working together, surviving. Not that it’ll stay that way, but it feels like a black cloud’s lifted, now that things are out in the open. He meant the strange abilities that had begun to manifest in the survivors since the meteorfall. One or two people still looked at their fellows sideways, but they weren’t inclined to leave, either. That boded well for them all in the long run--or so he hoped.

Jacqueline sighed softly. Well, it’s not like it could all stay a secret forever, not with the attack. Her voice hitched slightly. Greg touched her wrist with his free hand and she steadied, offering up a smile that was only just barely forced.

I’m all right, she whispered. Still getting used to the idea of all of it, but I’m all right. She smiled again, this time genuinely, and went back to her work on his arm. He just shook his head slightly.

I know it’s weird. It’s even weird for me, and I always hoped that one day I’d wake up and be able to feel the world around me the way I can now. He smiled sheepishly. Be careful what you wish for and all that.

Jacqueline laughed weakly as she finished with the splint. Yeah, that’s it exactly. I still don’t even know what I did, just that I did it and it worked. But I guess that’s all that’s important, right? She patted his knee. I’m done with you. Try not to get it all dirty again. What the hell were you doing, anyway?

Oh. Greg smiled sheepishly as he got to his feet. Phelan and I were planting holly along the edges of the settlement closer to the ravine, the areas we’re not going to wall off just yet. Just...ah...an extra line of defense, if you will.

A brow went up. Holly?

Yup.

She massaged her temples for a moment, frowning. I’m almost afraid to ask, but why holly? Isn’t it just a Christmas decoration plant, kind of like mistletoe?

Greg just gave her a sly, almost mysterious grin. It’s a protective wood, he said simply, shrugging slightly. Sacred to the druids of old. And it’s easier to plant and nurture at this juncture than oak. He winked and dusted himself off. I managed to rescue some seedlings. They’ll spread if we let them. Phelan and I will keep an eye on them and they’ll do fine, and hopefully help keep anything nasty at bay. Just in case someone starts mucking around with things they shouldn’t again.

Do we have any idea who was screwing with those wardings before? Jacqueline looked up only briefly as she packed up the toolbox she used as a medical kit. A flicker of concern passed through her eyes before she looked back down again, concentrating on her work as much as his answer.

Not so far as I know, Greg said quietly, frowning slightly. Though nothing’s happened since Phelan came, so maybe whoever it was left with the last bunch. He almost shuddered to consider other possibilities. Of course, I’m not sure anyone’s willing to stir up that hornet’s nest right about now.

"Marin brought everything out into the open so we could all stop feeling like we were walking on eggshells, Jacqueline said with a heartfelt sigh. Maybe that’s just not meant to be. She snapped her kit shut and shook her head. Maybe we’ll be treading lightly forever."

Not forever, Greg murmured, shaking his head slightly. At some point, we’ll sort it all out and folks will get used to living with all of this and dealing with it all on a daily basis. It’ll just become another fact of life. It’s just going to take some time.

You sound pretty sure about that.

Well, I have to be. Otherwise, we’ve risked a lot for no reason. That’s because I am. We just have to adapt--first as the microcosm, then as the larger whole.

Now she was looking at him strangely, nose wrinkling. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

Greg grinned.