The Night Stealer

By Robert Umber

Handoe and Sandstorm are on one of their strangest cases yet. A series of disappearances have happened in and around the town of Helfin,in the southwestern corner of Blue Dragon Territory,attributed to something called the Night Stealer. The detectives soon realize this is not going to be an easy case with only speculation for leads, few clues, and a frightened and uncooperative public. Then, Handoe and Sandstorm encounter the mysterious Count Bleeve and things take a whole new turn, Meanwhile, the Night Stealer strikes again and again.
Soon, Handoe and Sandstorm find themselves the target of the Night Stealer's aggression which only deepens the mystery. The detectives are on to something -- but what?
Things are not as they seem.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Robert Umber
• Release date: Oct 28, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370988334

Robert Umber

Rob Umber writes historical fiction, middle grade fiction as well as fantasy books. He lives in Kalispell, in northwestern Monatana, with his wife Catherine.

Book preview

THE

NIGHT STEALER

BY ROBERT UMBER

The Night Stealer

Written by Robert Umber

Smashwords edition

Copyright 2017 Robert Umber

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted in any manner whatsoever without prior written permission from the author/publisher.

All characters, events and locations depicted in this book are from the imagination of the author. Any resemblance to characters, names, locations, events and /or other creations have no relation to any other individuals and places, either known or unknown to the author is purely coincidental.

PROLOGUE

The Haxokrin Mountains; the backbone of the continent. Over a thousand miles of high, craggy peaks and volcanoes both active and extinct, with steep climbing slopes and ridges ascending from deep cutting ravines and gorges. A lure for adventurers and mineral prospectors, a haven for criminals and those on the run, a deathtrap for the unwary. The mountain range is a whole different world from the lower lands, different weather, different creatures, different feel.

One particular area on the border of Blue Dragon Territory and Nelvainia is said to be the epicenter of dark activities. Locals call the place The Black Fifty. Countless legends about strange happenings, weird occurrences and horrible stories of travelers going into these mountains only to vanish and never be seen or heard from again. Many say that this land is haunted or cursed, even the vordral from the last war left this area in terror after many of their people were attacked and killed. Locals say when the wind blows down from the mountains that is actually the voices of all the doomed souls calling out for mercy, for hope, for revenge and warning all to stay away.

Others claim it is the work of the Night Stealer a beast of mystical proportions that only acts at night. Tale spinners say the monster can change into other creatures, some say it is a demon from the Infernal Regions being sent to wreak havoc among the land of the living. Skeptics dismiss these stories and say there are more down to earth reasons for what has been happening, but they can offer no satisfactory suggestions or solutions.

The attacks continue.

The lucky ones survive to add their stories to the growing pile of accounts.

Those taken are forever silenced.

CHAPTER ONE

Kublisa; capital city of Dragonsrod

Taob was large, even for a javoline. His breadloaf-like snout could sniff out anything from a mile away, so it seemed. His long and pointy ears possessed acute hearing and his hands were large and meaty and looked as though he could punch holes through brick walls.

Taob was not what one would call a model citizen. His arrest record alone filled up an entire file cabinet at the Kublisa Police Department. He knew most of the detectives by their first names and was callus enough to call some of them friends.

Taob was infamous in the underworld. Racketeering, extortion, assault and battery, most likely murder, only made up a few of his hobbies. Taob's high-time was during the last war. Dragonsrod detectives were offering their services as volunteers for the great patriotic cause. Even the great detectives, Handoe and Sandstorm removed themselves from his trail to enlist. Taob operated with impunity for the next five years.

Once the war ended, Dragonsrod detectives' attention slowly shifted back to the criminal element. Handoe and Sandstorm and some newbie named Maxum, were back on his case. Taob, once more, was feeling the pressure and was back to looking over his shoulder. He knew of Handoe and Sandstorm's record of catching criminals and was regarding this Maxum character as one to be leery of.

The hulking javoline's latest extracurricular activities included the dealing and trafficking of illegal substances and spirits. For Taob, the money was rolling in. From some of his clientele, however, it was not coming to him fast enough. Today is collection day, time to make a few visits. They had better have something to offer for a payment.

***

Taob was making his rounds, judging by the blood droplets on his shirt, he had paid a client or two a visit. He was strolling through a narrow alley that more resembled a closed over sidewalk, lined on both sides by hole-in-the-wall hovels. Taob had no fears down here. He caused fear, it was not imposed on him. No one in their right minds would mess with him in these alleys. Here, he was king. Weak beams of sunlight struggled to find a place in this thick darkness. Enough light came down for Taob to see as he stopped at a small green door.

The one who lived here owed Taob a lot, and it was time to pay up; one way or the other. He reached for the doorknob – he froze – his nose flexed, his ears twisted and turned, his eyes darted from side to side, his brow sunk.

No! He gasped just above a whisper. They won't catch me today.

Taob moved quickly from the door and down the corridor. He stepped out onto the open street and mingled with the crowd of pedestrians engulfed in their own affairs. He stopped at a weathered red door leading into an equally weather-beaten apartment building that he owned. He opened the first door on the ground floor and slid into the room.

Pitch black.

Curtains drawn.

Eerily quiet.

Hello Taob.

Detective Sandstorm.

It's been a long time.

Not long enough!

Taob reached for the door.

Go ahead, run, Sandstorm encouraged him. You are just delaying the inevitable.

I'll take my chances, Taob bolted from the room and ran back into the street.

Sandstorm followed moments later.

The big javoline rushed through the being choked sidewalks, running a few pedestrians over and dodging around others. He charged down a dingy alley, cranking his head over his right shoulder to see the pesky snow leopard giving chase...

A metal garbage can lid hit Taob in the face, making a loud hands hitting sheet metal sound. He landed on the ground, back first, his head just missed connecting with the surface.

I'd stay on the ground if I were you, Handoe warned, stepping out from behind some