Shadow World Revealed (Shadow World Chronicles Book 1)

By Martin Golson

Great power and greater evil reign over the creatures of Shadow World. Now, they have found their way to Earth.

On a rainy night in Nashville, Detective Brian Medcalf is called to the scene of a grisly murder. What he soon discovers is that, while the victim was a man he wouldn’t want to meet in a dark alley, the murderer is someone he wouldn’t even want to meet in broad daylight.

As Brian launches into the investigation, he finds that wondrous creatures and strange technologies have found their way into his life; none stranger than Darok Illomen. Murderer, illusionist, terrorist, warrior, savior, or destroyer; who is Darok and what is he after? Soon, the lives of everyone Brian loves will hinge on the answers to these questions.

Shadow World Revealed is the first book in the series, Shadow World Chronicles. It is a modern-day fantasy, with surprising twists and turns.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Martin Golson
• Release date: Aug 11, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370383634

Martin Golson

Martin started his storytelling when his children were little. He would tell his own version of classic fairy tales. The children loved how the ending was always different.As the children grew, Martin would create his own story lines for the family Dungeons & Dragons game. They still remember the fun times they had playing the game together and some of the funny things that happened in the game, such as a monster called Santa Claws.Martin retired from the military in 2001 and went to college, where he earned his Bachelor’s degree in Mathematics and his Master’s degree in Instructional Technology. He now works as the Director of the Academic Support Center at his Alma Mater, helping students achieve their educational goals.Martin started writing his first book manuscript in 2014. It only took him two to three months to finish the initial transcript. He went on and wrote the initial manuscripts for the next three books in the Shadow World Chronicles series. Finally in early 2016, a concerted effort was made to get the first book ready to publish. Now that Shadow World Revealed is finished and available for purchase, Martin is busy editing book two, which he hopes to have on the market by Christmas.Then he will work on getting the fifth book written.When asked what he plans to do after this series, he is quick to reply that he has already started the next series.

Book preview

Shadow World Revealed

By Martin Golson

Published by Martin Golson at Smashwords

Copyright 2019, 2016 Martin Golson

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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

Cover Image and Design copyright 2019 Juanita Golson

Edited by Meagan Dagnan

Visit http://www.martingolson.com

First Edition : August 2016

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2

To my wife Juanita who inspires me, works tirelessly beside me, and brings my dreams to life.

Table of Contents

Acknowledgements

Part 1 - Beginnings

Chapter 1 - September 3rd

Chapter 2 - September 4th

Chapter 3 - September 25th

Part 2 - The Return

Chapter 4 - August 14th

Chapter 5 - August 15th

Chapter 6 - August 16th

Chapter 7 - September 7th

Chapter 8 - September 8th

Chapter 9 - September 25th

Chapter 10 - October 19th

Chapter 11 - January 5th

Part 3 - Battle Lines

Chapter 12 - March 13th

Chapter 13 - March 14th

Chapter 14 - March 15th

Chapter 15 - March 16th

Chapter 16 - March 30th

Chapter 17 - April 5th

Chapter 18 - April 6th

Part 4 - War

Chapter 19 - April 7th

Chapter 20 - April 8th

Chapter 21 - April 9th

About Martin Golson

Other books by Martin Golson

Connect with Martin Golson

Acknowledgements

The task of collecting fragmented ideas and dialogues and distilling them into a book would have been beyond my meager skills if not for the assistance of so many people who aided me along the way. It is with deepest gratitude that I acknowledge their hand in this work.

To Dwonna, who gives her all to her students, pushing them to become greater than they dare dream they are capable of becoming. Whether playing the role of trusted mentor or burr beneath my saddle, she made me a better writer. I will never be able to fully express my gratitude for all she’s done.

To my children, who taught me the joy found in sharing tales. The joy of discovery I saw in their eyes as they eagerly anticipated the actions of the characters in each story will remain one of my greatest treasures. Additionally . . . their questions and advice as they read this story has been invaluable.

To Allie and Silvia, for their genuine interest in my stories and for their encouragement along the way. I feel like each of the characters have become as much their friends as they are mine.

To Meagan who not only provided valuable feedback on my writing, but also allowed me so witness, through her comments, the joy of discovery of a reader who truly became absorbed in my tale.

Most importantly, to my wife Juanita, granting me the precious gift of time. Without her support, I could never have taken the time to create this tale. Without her feedback along the way, as the story came to life, it would never have become a tale worth reading. Finally, without her urging and labor, the story would never have become a book for all to read. While the readers may read words of action and adventure, I know that the true story of this book is one of love, the love of a wife who desires nothing less than the best for the man who was fortunate enough to win her heart.

Part 1 – Beginnings

CHAPTER 1 - September 3rd

Morning

Damn! Lt. Brian Medcalf swore quietly as he raced along Interstate 24. It had already been a long shift, and now this. He’d made it through the 3 a.m. rush of calls. Drunks doing their typically stupid stuff, had brought him out to assist with a brawl in one of the downtown clubs. He’d hoped the remainder of the pre-dawn hours would pass quietly. Then, the call had come in about a homicide at the auto auction. His wipers swept across the windshield, clearing the drizzling rain from his view as he sped past a truck carrying goods for the local sporting goods stores. Street lights and signs from dozens of businesses provided brighter illumination for the interstate than his headlights alone could. Ahead, he saw the darkened region where the auction was located. Something had knocked out power for the entire area. Eighteen years with the Metro Nashville Police Department, and here he was investigating another body. Soon he’d have to bear the news to another family, leaving them to grieve and try to pick up the pieces of their lives.

Brian jerked his steering wheel to the left. He’d let his mind wander for a moment and allowed his car to drift across the dashed white line. The semi driver to his right sounded a deep, rumbling blast from the truck's air horn, a reminder to stay focused on the road. He shifted his one hundred and ninety pound frame in his seat and pushed the accelerator a little harder, sending the speedometer past ninety and leaving the semi behind. He listened to the hiss of his tires on the rain slick pavement, as he entered the darkened region. Nearly a mile ahead, red and blue flashing lights from half a dozen patrol cars marked the location of the auction. Another set of lights, slightly apart from the rest, indicated some highway obstruction that blocked a lane of traffic, just before the exit he would have to take.

Tapping the brakes, Brian eased his vehicle a little further to the left to avoid the orange traffic cones a youthful patrol officer had laid out to guide people around the road hazard. He swore. The radio report had mentioned a wrecked vehicle, but that didn’t prepare him for the damage he saw. The mangled metal lay upside down and looked like it had been run over by a tank. He could only guess what the twisted metal and plastic had once been. Speeding past the wreck, he started onto the exit. Suddenly, he slammed his foot on the brake, his tires squealing as the car came to a sudden stop. Wrenching the door open, he sprinted around the vehicle to verify what he’d seen. A six-foot long gouge ran across the exit ramp. Standing at the near end of the gouge, Brian looked past it, to the remains of a car. The gouge pointed straight toward the ruined vehicle. Slowly turning around, he looked at the flashing lights near the auction. The lights, the gouge, and the wreck were all in line. The implications couldn't be true, but he didn't believe in coincidences. The car had to have struck the road where he now stood, which meant that it had to have originated at the auction. What could possibly send a car flying nearly a quarter of a mile, before it slammed into the road, and bounced nearly another quarter mile before stopping, Brian thought. Shaking his head at how ridiculous his idea sounded, he looked across the wreckage to the young patrolman and called him over.

Brian waited as the patrolman approached. Straightening, he announced, Lt. Medcalf, homicide. They send you by yourself to do traffic duty here? The blond-haired youth nodded. Good grief! Brian thought, Was I ever that young? Addressing the patrolman, he continued, Well, congratulations. You’re now part of the crime scene investigation. Call for assistance. Tape off the area and mark every piece of debris and any other scrapes or gouges you find in the asphalt.

The kid shuffled his wet shoes on the pavement and stammered, But sir, this is only a wreck on the interstate. It isn't part of the murder investigation.

Listen to me, Brian growled. I want you to take your left hand and put it on your right ear, then take your right hand and put it on your left ear, and pull your head out of your ass. If this is a wreck, what hit it, and where is the driver? You think anyone walked or drove away from that? Now get yourself some help, and do what I told you. What's your name?

Jefferson, David Jefferson, sir.

Well you listen to me Jefferson, Brian said, mellowing slightly, keep your eyes and your brain in the game, every time, on every call. You may make a decent cop someday, if you follow that simple advice.

Brian ignored the Yes, sir! from the chastened youth as he climbed back into his car. This part of the scene might hold clues. It might even be important, but right now he needed to see what happened to the victim. A quick twist of the key and the engine roared to life. As he pulled away, he glanced in his mirror to see the obedient patrolman talking on his radio while grabbing a roll of yellow, plastic tape from his patrol car.

Pulling his car off the road near the auto auction, Brian swore for the third time since receiving the call on his radio. The dispatch had said it was a bad one, but he already knew that would be an understatement. The auction generally handled good, serviceable vehicles which were older than the new car dealerships wanted on the used car side of their lots. Gone were the neat rows of freshly-washed vehicles waiting to be sold. In their place were piles of metal. Most were shoved randomly across the lot. Some were slammed through the brick walls of the auto auction's lone structure. Power poles lay on the ground around the lot, either on top of or underneath ruined vehicles. Some of the poles had been broken by wrecked cars knocking out their base, but a couple of poles were broken off approximately twenty feet above the ground. Those two bare poles, standing next to each other like silent sentries, disturbed him more than the others, but he couldn't say why.

Stepping out of his vehicle, Brian noted that two civilian cars were pulled over. Next to each was a uniformed patrolman. Good, he thought, we may have witnesses to this mess. He would have to interview them himself later to see what they could reveal. Walking through the shallow puddles next to the road, he approached the yellow tape that marked the edge of the crime scene. Outside the taped line, a police sergeant was bent over, vomit covering the ground in front of his shoes. Brian grimaced. The man was no rookie. Sgt. John Warner had been on the force since his early twenties. Now pushing thirty-five, he had a reputation of being as reliable and fearless as they come.

Deciding he could spare a moment to check on a fellow police officer, Brian walked over to the powerfully built African-American officer who was beginning to straighten back up. You ok, John?

Yeah. The victim went down hard, but I've seen worse. It's the smell. You can't smell it out here, but once you get down by the victim, it's overpowering. I'll be ok. Give me a moment, John replied, with a slight grimace.

I understand, Brian said. Take a few minutes. Smoke one, if you want. We're going to be here a while.

Lieutenant, you know I don't smoke. I’m fine now. Let's get back to work.

Brian smiled. He knew that John didn't smoke. The guy was a Mormon, as clean and straight as they come. No smoking or drinking. He didn't even drink coffee. The guy was definitely different from most of his fellow officers. Still, a gentle jest like he’d made a moment ago, was a good way to check on John. If he’d responded any differently, Brian would have been worried.

Together, they lifted the yellow tape and walked into the darkened crime scene. Brian scowled as he looked around. It was still at least an hour before dawn. A little light would make it a whole lot easier to find evidence. Well, he thought, we’ll have plenty of daylight hours on the scene before this part of the investigation is finished.

As Brian continued walking, he noticed a lone man moving toward the tape. Something about the man seemed strange. He hadn't been in one of the cars Brian had passed, and there were no houses around here. So, where did he come from? The guy looked to be around forty, but he had long, thick, white hair. He estimated that the man stood around five foot eleven, maybe six feet. He couldn't weigh more than one hundred and forty, a hundred and fifty tops. The guy had a wooden cane in his hand, but he didn't walk with a limp, and didn't appear to need the cane. Then, it hit him. He knew what seemed out of place. The guy was wearing sunglasses, mirrored sunglasses, in the pre-dawn hours, in the middle of a power outage. Turning to John, he nodded toward the approaching figure, Sgt. Warner, I need you to check this guy out. I have a feeling about him, if you know what I mean.

Nodding, John patted Brian on the shoulder. I’ve got it, sir.

Walking along what seemed to be a reasonably clear path through the debris, Brian could hear John’s deep voice behind him, Excuse me, sir. Can I talk to you for a minute? Yes, John had the situation under control. By the time he was done, John would know everything there was to know about the white-haired man, from his reason for being there to his whole life's story.

Stepping over a bent, red bumper, Brian let out a low whistle and stopped. Near the twisted wreckage of what used to be a Jeep Grand Cherokee were four deep gouges in the asphalt surface. Each appeared to be over four feet in length, nearly eight inches across on one end and pointed at the other. He couldn't shake the impression that they looked like the marks of a giant tiger's paw. Lowering himself carefully beside one of the marks, he looked into one of the holes. Good grief! he thought. The pointed end of the hole goes clean through the asphalt, into the ground below. What could have done this?

Brian stood back up and continued to walk toward the cluster of officers ahead and the waiting body. He could hear the arrival of more cars outside the yellow boundary. Soon, this place would become a beehive of activity as everything was examined, measured, and photographed. As he walked, he began to smell what John had warned him about. The odor was both sickly-sweet, like decaying flesh, and acidic. It seemed to burn into his sinuses and twist his stomach in knots at the same time. Silently, he clenched his fists by his side and willed his stomach to settle down. He wasn’t going to face unending ribbing from his fellow officers because he lost his cookies at a crime scene. With one final clench of his fist and a slight jerk of his jaw, he steeled his nerves and stepped past the last pile of wreckage into the relative clearing where the other officers waited.

The first thing that caught his eye wasn’t the body, it was the building. From the road, Brian had thought some cars had smashed through the brick wall, but he’d been wrong. Those cars hadn't crashed through the wall. The wall simply wasn't there. A solid brick, two-story structure, and yet there was a hole in the side that was easily fourteen feet wide and eight feet high. There was no debris. There was nothing where the wall had been, nothing but a large, dark puddle with a sickly, greenish vapor coming from the surface. The front end of the cars went down into the puddle. The frame of each vehicle sat on the ground beyond the edge of the dark, forbidding pool.

Walking around the cluster of officers and the lone body, Brian approached the building and the steaming puddle. The smell got worse with each step. The surface bubbled and hissed. He stood and stared at the strange surface. What is this stuff?

Turning, he returned to where the other officers stood. As he approached, he felt a mild prickling sensation on his cheeks and on the backs of his hands. He noticed each of the officers were brushing their faces or rubbing their hands as well. Seeing no reason for the sensation and chalking it up to the power of suggestion from the actions of the other police officers, Brian returned his attention to the crime scene. The victim lay face down on the asphalt. His right leg was twisted away from his body. The curve and twist of the leg indicated that the bones had been broken in multiple places. The left shoulder was missing, leaving the arm attached to the rest of the body by only a little bit of skin and flesh. Clutched in the victim's right hand was a pistol. It looked like it was probably a 9 mm, with a shining silver finish. Probably nickel plating, he thought. As he came closer, he saw the victim's face. The cheek on the left side appeared to be burned away, revealing clenched teeth. Dark lines radiated across the victim's face and neck from the edges of the burnt area. Bending a little closer, he observed that the victim appeared young, maybe nineteen or twenty, the same age as his younger son.

Straightening back up, Brian noticed the hand axe laying on the ground in front of the victim. The metal of the axe was the same color as the pistol. Near the axe was a black metallic looking mass on the ground. Curved on one side and flat across the other, it resembled a rough plate which had been cut in half. Near the axe and the plate, was a small puddle that looked like tar.

Turning to the nearest patrol officer, he began barking instructions. Brad, get out to the investigators who just arrived. Tell them we've got at least two types of fluid we need samples of, so make sure they have some tubes with them. The rest of you, he shouted toward the gathered officers, get back from the body, and make sure you don't step in anything. We're going to find out what happened here. The rain has already contaminated the evidence enough. I don't need any of you making matters worse.

A few minutes later, Sgt. Warner returned, leading a team of investigators along with Michelle Burkhart, the medical examiner. Stepping away from the new arrivals as they began to examine the body, he walked over to Brian. Sir, I talked to that guy you asked me to check on. He says he's some magician who was walking by the area on his way home from the club where he works. I ran his ID, and he checks out. His name is Darok Illomen. he continued. He seems a little strange, but harmless. I told him to go home. He doesn't know anything.

Lieutenant, called Michelle, as she rolled the body over. You may want to see this. The victim's chest was coated in blood, and in the middle of the blood were three bullet holes. No question about it, this guy had gone down hard.

One of the investigators had already taken a sample of the black tar-like substance and now was near the steaming pool next to the building. She pulled on a fresh pair of rubber gloves and grabbed another glass vial from her case. Brian tried to remember her name, Mary something.

Richard Wallace, a fresh face in the department, reached down and picked up the hand axe. Hey Michelle, bet you it's not even sharp, he called, as he lightly touched the edge of the blade with his thumb.

No! John screamed, too late as Richard stared in shock. The end of his thumb was gone, hewn through by the edge of the blade like it was a sheet of tissue paper. Blood spurted from the severed digit onto the side of the axe. In shock, he opened his fingers and let the axe fall. The cruel blade cleaved through his left foot from his toes to the front of his ankle. With a cry, Richard stumbled backwards, leaving the blade embedded in the pavement. His eyes glazed over, Richard collapsed into the expanding pool of blood.

The commotion behind her distracted Mary for one moment, and her glove touched the surface of the pool. Jerking her hand back from the surface, she screamed in pain. Pale green flames burst from her fingers. Still screaming, she waved her arm in panic. As the flames spread, pain overwhelmed her senses. It felt like her nerves were on fire. The sensation raced up her arm to her chest and seemed to clutch her heart and squeeze it. Clutching her chest with both hands, Mary stopped screaming, and silently collapsed into the puddle. Green flames erupted from the surface, engulfing her lifeless form. As the shocked cadre of police officers watched in disbelief, her body disappeared into the dark pool.

Michelle glared at Brian. Though only five foot two and slim as a reed, her indomitable will made her a person few could stand up to. Why didn't you call for hazmat the minute you saw that pool? she demanded.

Brian was stunned. He’d seen the wall. He’d sensed the danger. She was right. He’d failed to take the proper action, and now one police officer was dead and another lay grievously injured. Some might try to blame Richard and his carelessness for Mary's death, but he knew better. His own failure to recognize the danger and respond accordingly had been the real reason for this tragedy. Bowing his head, he simply responded I'm sorry. Turning to the rest of the officers, he shouted, Everyone get outside the tape until we can find out what we're dealing with.

A shocked group of officers walked carefully out of the crime scene. Suddenly, every pool of water and every unidentified piece of debris lying in the darkness seemed like a trap waiting to kill the unwary. Two officers carried Richard between them. One of them had used his shirt to wrap Richard's maimed foot. Though it helped, they still left a trail of fresh blood behind them, which slowly spread towards the ever-present puddles of water.

As they neared the apparent safety of the yellow tape, Brian noticed the white-haired man walking along the taped off boundary. He held something in his right hand. Every few steps, he would raise the small object over his head for a moment before continuing his journey around the perimeter of the crime scene. What did John say his name was? Derrick or something like that.

Walking briskly toward the strange man, Brian stated, I need to talk to you. Your name's Derrick, right?

Actually, my name is Darok, Darok Illomen, and you are?

Lt. Medcalf, homicide. You're at my crime scene, and I need to know why you’re here, what you know, and what you’re doing.

Are you saying that you committed a crime and are now here to accost me? Illomen replied, without revealing even a hint of a smile.

I’m not in the mood for your pathetic attempts at humor, Brian exclaimed. He could now see that the object in Illomen's hand was an iPad. You told my officer that you’re some kind of magician, walking home from your job at a local club, and you saw the activity here. You were told to leave, and yet I find you here wandering around the area. I want answers.

Actually, I told your officer that I’m an illusionist and that I was performing near here. I was headed home when the excitement caught my attention. As far as answers go, if you ask me with a civil tongue, I’ll be happy to provide whatsoever answers I feel are appropriate.

Where were you tonight?

Performing near here. I told you that, already.

What club?

I never said it was a club.

Who were you performing for?

I was performing for myself, but in your best interest.

Mr. Lomen, you're about to find yourself going downtown for questioning. I want some straight answers.

The name is Illomen. Ill-o-men. Dar-ok Ill-o-men. I don't care if you use the word mister when you talk to me, but please get my name right.

Without thinking, Brian took a step backwards. Catching himself, he exclaimed, Well Dar-ok Ill-o-men, you’ve definitely won a free trip downtown. Sgt. Warner, put this gentleman in the back of your patrol car until we have time to talk to him.

Stepping forward John quickly searched Illomen for any weapons or other items. Finding none, he took the iPad and cane and placed them in the front seat