Assault on Villamar

By Brent Nichols

Colleen Garman is on the island of Capria, running for her life. The cult of Katharis is hunting her, men on the ground guided by a hijacked airship in the sky above.

As she gathers islanders loyal to Ben, prince of Capria, and prepares for a counterstrike, Colleen receives devastating news. Ben, the man who has come to mean everything to her, has been captured. He's being held in a castle in Sardinia.

A rescue attempt would be suicidal. Good people would die, and achieve nothing. It breaks her heart, but Colleen realizes that she has to let him go.

Ben's followers, though, are fanatical in their loyalty. With or without her, they will storm the castle to save Ben or die trying. Colleen has no choice but to join them on a mad balloon ride across the Mediterranean and a midnight assault on a fortress. The rescuers will pay a terrible price, but the cult of Katharis is going to take a beating it will never forget, and one way or another, Ben will be free.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Brent Nichols
• Release date: Jan 26, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311364555

Brent Nichols

Brent Nichols is a writer and trainer based in Calgary, Alberta.

Book preview

Assault on Villamar

By Brent Nichols

Copyright 2014 Brent Nichols

Smashwords Edition

Table of Contents

Chapter 1 – Prey

Chapter 2 – Resistance

Chapter 3 – The Ambush

Chapter 4 – A Perilous Refuge

Chapter 5 – A Desperate Plan

Chapter 6 – The Face of Madness

Chapter 7 – A Rough Landing in Sardinia

Chapter 8 – Desperation

Chapter 9 – The Breach

Chapter 10 – The Grinder

Author's Notes

Chapter 1 – Prey

You haven't truly lived until you've been hunted.

Colleen Garman crawled out from under a haystack and watched the sun slide up over the horizon. Rolling hills fell away before her, and beyond them, the Mediterranean Sea glittered a brilliant blue. She had crawled into the haystack the night before not the least bit sure that she would be alive for the sunrise. Despite hunger and dirt, bruises and half-healed wounds, she smiled with a deeply-felt joy as she watched the sun rise.

She moved around, working the kinks out of her muscles and warming herself, then made her way to a hilltop near her haystack. She stayed low to the ground, looking in every direction without skylining herself.

The island of Capria surrounded her in all of its wild beauty. Tucked between Sardinia and Italy, the island was two hundred square miles of low mountains and rocky hills, home to shepherds and farmers and fishermen. The island was Italian, but the locals retained a culture all their own.

Colleen had learned to love the hardy, stubborn, independent Caprians, but something on this island had captured the attention of the cult of Katharis. Colleen had come to the island to find out why. She would solve the puzzle, if she could stay alive long enough.

Sunlight glittered on glass, and she pressed herself against the grass while she tried to spot the source of the reflection. She lost the gleam, then found it again as it started to move. There was a car on the road below. It was the winter of 1922, but in many ways Capria was still living in the nineteenth century. Cars were rare on the rutted cart tracks that passed for roads in the highlands, but Colleen knew someone who had several. Martella, the puppet master who had goaded Fausto Disaronna, governor of the island, in his ill-fated coup. Martella, the visible face of the cult on Capria, and Colleen's mortal enemy.

Colleen stayed low, watching as the car bounced along a meandering road most of a mile away. She could make out few details. It was a dark sedan. She could tell nothing more.

Not for the first time she wished Ben was there. He knew the island and its people, who had cars, who could be trusted.

She didn't just miss him for practical reasons. He'd become her friend, and perhaps something more. Benedeto Disaronna was the hereditary ruler of Capria. He was on his way to Italy to bring back the Legion, Capria's home-grown army, currently training with the Italian armed forces.

She pushed him from her mind for the hundredth time. There was no time for sentiment, for wishful thinking. She had a job to do, or Ben would be returning blind, with Martella's forces waiting for him.

When the car was out of sight she rose and started walking. It was her third day alone, her third day since Ben had left for Milan by way of Sardinia. Martella's men were searching for her, but every mile she moved increased their search area tremendously.

Weariness dragged at her limbs, even first thing in the morning. Shivering in a haystack wasn't very restful. Hunger sapped her strength. She couldn't keep on like this for much longer. She couldn't achieve anything hiding alone in the hills, either. She needed an ally. She would have to take a chance and talk to somebody. Several thousand people lived on Capria. The cult was here, and spreading, but at most she thought they numbered in the dozens. The odds were in her favor.

Instinctively she moved higher as she walked, keeping to what cover she could but climbing when possible. The high ground let her see a long way in many directions, and she felt safer when she knew no one was watching her from above.

Her footsteps slowed when she heard the low baaing of a sheep from somewhere ahead. She edged her way around a hillside, moving as quietly as possible, her eyes scanning. Sheep often meant a shepherd, and shortly after spotting several of the woolly beasts, she saw the man.

He was young and slender, with the night-black hair and rich mustache of most Caprian men. He sat motionless, high on the hillside, gazing out over his flock.

For a while she sat there, watching him watch, weighing her options. Diligent animal husbandry didn't go well with cult membership. Once Katharis gained a foothold in someone's mind, the person usually underwent an ugly personality change. Any sense of responsibility usually eroded quickly. A good cultist would be a bad shepherd.

There was no way to be certain, of course, but Colleen's stomach rumbled so loudly that the nearest sheep raised its head and stared at her. Perfect safety didn't number among her options. She had to take a chance, and this looked like the best odds she was going to get.

She stood.

The shepherd stared at her, and she gave him a little wave, then picked her way across the stony hillside toward him. He didn't move, just watched her come, and she grinned to herself. Patience and stubbornness were traits that seemed universal in Capria. Once the people decided they'd had enough, the cult was going to have a hard time of it.

He stood as she reached him. He was several inches shorter than she was, and probably weighed less. She guessed his age at about twenty. He looked her up and down, then spoke rapidly in Sardu.

Sorry, said Colleen. I don't suppose you speak English?

He didn't answer, just turned and pointed at the hillside behind him. Then he slung a small haversack over his shoulder, started up the hill, and gestured to her to follow.

Colleen shrugged and started after him. There was no polite way to ask him if he had any food in that haversack, but if she stayed with him, someone was bound to offer her a bite to eat.

They crested the hill and the man kept going. Colleen glanced back at the sheep, surprised that he was leaving his flock. Well, perhaps he wasn't taking her far. I really need to learn Sardu!

Muttering under her breath, cursing Ben for leaving her in this situation, she plodded along in the man's footsteps. She felt a growing uneasiness, but dismissed it. She was nervous about facing the unknown, that was all. One skinny shepherd was no risk to her.

They descended the far side of the hill. There was a road of sorts at the bottom, a meandering washboard that looked like it would be a quagmire of mud if it rained. Several large rocks lined one edge of the road, and the shepherd walked over and sat down on one of them.

Colleen looked around, uncertain. She was in a narrow cleft between hills, with poor visibility in any direction. And she had no idea what they were waiting for. Still, she badly wanted to sit down, and there seemed to be nothing else to do. She chose a rock and sat.