The Graves Crew and the Firestar Amulet

By Kenneth McDonald

The war between the Duke and the Baron grinds on. Graves and his crew of misfits and ne'er-do-wells has been assigned the task of building a fortress overlooking the town of Raviston, just captured by the army of the Duke. The local population is cowed and the Baron's army is hiding far away in the mountains. It's just another job for the labor crews on the bottom rung of the Duke's forces, but Graves and his men have learned the hard way that there's no such thing as an easy job in this war. Draconian officers, criminal conspiracies, and hidden spies are the least of the troubles the notorious crew must confront on this latest project. For an ancient and malign magic slumbers in Raviston, and when it wakes Graves and his men are caught between great powers in another desperate struggle for survival. Only this time surviving isn't enough, as a representative of the all-powerful White Order has also come to Raviston, and there are secrets in the Graves crew that they would find very interesting indeed.

This is the third story in the “Graves Crew” series, after “The Graves Crew and the Restless Dead” and “The Graves Crew and the Damned Dam.”

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kenneth McDonald
• Release date: Feb 4, 2018
• ISBN: 9781370383528

Kenneth McDonald

I am a retired education consultant who worked for state government in the area of curriculum. I have also taught American and world history at a number of colleges and universities in California, Georgia, and South Carolina. I started writing fiction in graduate school and never stopped. In 2010 I self-published the novella "The Labyrinth," which has had over 100,000 downloads. Since then, I have published more than fifty fantasy and science fiction books on Smashwords. My doctorate is in European history, and I live with my wife in northern California.

Book preview

The Graves Crew and the Firestar Amulet

Kenneth McDonald

[e-mail]

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2018 by Kenneth McDonald

Cover Credit: the cover image is adapted from the painting The Nature as a Symbol of Vanitas by Abraham Mignon (c. 1665-1679). The image is in the public domain.

* * * * *

Works by Kenneth McDonald

The Ogre at the Crossroads

The Graves Crew

The Graves Crew and the Restless Dead

The Graves Crew and the Damned Dam

The Graves Crew and the Firestar Amulet

Refugees of the Crucible

Powerless

Overpowered

Balance of Power

Soul Weapons

Wizard’s Shield

Soul of the Sword

Wizard’s Stone

Tales of the Soul Weapons

The Dwarf on the Mountain

The Colors of Fate

Black Shadows Gather

Green Hearts Weep

Red Vengeance Rising

Faded Yellow Dreams

Blazing White Stars

Shiny Golden Schemes

The Mages of Sacreth

The Labyrinth

Of Spells and Demons

Grimm’s War

Grimm’s Loss

Grimm’s Love

Of Blood and Magic

Of Steel and Sorcery

The Godswar Trilogy

Paths of the Chosen

Choice of the Fallen

Fall of Creation

Daran’s Journey

Heart of a Hero

Soul of a Coward

Will of a Warrior

Courage of a Champion

* * * * *

Chapter 1

It was late afternoon, the sun already halfway down to the line of adjacent mountains that dominated the horizon, when a loud whistle interrupted the crews.

Scattered groups of working men came to a stop. They were clustered around the construction site that sprawled across the hilltop, a site that had only begun to take on definition as the foundation of a considerable structure. The laborers looked at each other with curiosity, for an early break was not common on this job. A few hopped up onto the piles of cut stone blocks or thick wooden boards that were stacked everywhere, trying to see what was going on.

Not everyone showed such initiative. When the whistle blew, Fat Pete slumped down into the shadow of the wall he had been working on. He leaned ponderously over to his coat, discarded earlier in the noon heat, and burrowed into it to produce a small flask.

Hey, fatso, you bring enough to share? Barek asked. The big man leaned on the haft of his heavy hammer, its head wrapped in padding to avoid damaging the stone blocks as they were tapped into place.

Pete’s response was a rude gesture that drew laughs from other members of the crew. Damn, I could use a beer, he said as he put away has flask. Not that our sort would be allowed a chance to grab a bloody drink, not in bloody Raviston, not with bloody Raszek in charge.

Careful, Squints said from beside him. The former sergeant looked small only in contrast to Barek, but his arms and back were corded with hard-earned muscle.

Markhos carefully propped his own hammer against the wall before bending to stretch his back. The lieutenant is just following orders passed down from on high, the riverman said.

Orders that don’t apply to the soldiers, or the officers, Barek complained. Just us working men.

Maybe you should submit a petition to the lieutenant, Squints said, drawing a laugh from the others.

Someone’s coming up from town, Rajek said.

The comment had them all turning to look down at Raviston. The town stood in the shadow of the hill where the crews were working, a short walk at the end of the working day, a long one when the crews were coming out in the predawn to begin their labors. Smoke rose from a few chimneys, and the occasional person could be seen moving around the outermost buildings, but by and large the town was quiet. That was hardly surprising, as Raviston was still reeling from its conquest by the army of the Duke, bloodless though the transition had been.

Raviston lacked a defensive wall, so the laborers could quickly make out the column that was just emerging from the town along the new road that led to the construction works. The core of the column was a close-packed group of men, flanked by a handful of others who wore breastplates that glimmered bright in the afternoon sunlight. A single rider rode at their head, distinctive even at a distance.

That’s Sergeant Kerris, Rajek said.

I’ll take your word for it, Barek said. I wonder what’s going on?

Hey, Graves, Markhos said. They all turned to see their crew leader approaching. Keev was with him, the thin youth struggling with the weight of a heavy leather satchel. You know what’s going on, boss? the riverman asked. Why they called the halt?

Graves didn’t answer immediately, coming forward to join the line of men watching the approaching party. As the column drew closer they could see that it was not made up of men marching in formation, as it had first appeared. Instead, it was something else that was keeping them closely clustered.

Convicts, Barek said. So that’s it? he added, turning to Graves. They’re putting criminals on the crews now?

Graves turned to face him. The crew leader was older than the other men on his crew by at least a decade, but he gave no ground before the much bigger man. An old scar ran up the left side of his face, and his skin was weathered like the cover of an old book that had been taken down off the shelf one too many times. He carried a battered shovel with an iron head that had been worn down to a stubby nub, and his flipped it onto his shoulder as he addressed Barek and the rest of his crew. Most of the men on these crews have something in their past they’re not proud of. I suspect more have crimes on their ledger than not.

But none of us came to the crews in chains, shackled together like animals, Squints said quietly.

Barek rounded on him. How can you tell? You can barely see more than five feet in front of your face.

I can hear them, Squints said.

The others listened, and after a moment they too could clearly hear the clink of chains as the prisoners started up the slope that led to the summit of the hill. Now that they were closer the laborers could see that there were about a dozen prisoners altogether, clad in ragged clothes that looked rather the worse for wear. Most marched with their heads down, as if unconcerned about their destination, but one man in the middle of the column looked up and fixed a look upon them that felt cold even from a hundred yards off.

I wonder what they did, Keev said.

I wonder where they’re going, Barek shot back. I don’t want them on my crew, he added with another look at Graves.

Like anyone gives a shit about what you think, Rajek said, but he didn’t look happy either.

Bad enough they let the riverman on, Barek muttered, but there wasn’t any heat in his words. Markhos had proven his worth on their last assignment and had earned acceptance as a member of Graves’s crew. There was still something of a rivalry between the two big men, but neither seemed interested in taking it beyond words.

Come on, Graves said, starting down toward the road. A few of the other crews were doing the same, led by their own leaders, their men asking similar questions about what this new development portended.

The Duke must be real short of men, Barek said. It looks like he scraped the bottom of the barrel for this lot.

Think they’re prisoners of war? Keev asked.

I don’t think so, Squints said. Too likely to get up to mischief, and we’re still too close to the front lines. Too many here may remain loyal to the Baron.

They gave up quick enough when we showed up, Rajek said. The Duke’s army, that is.

I bet there’s a killer or two in this bunch, Barek said. What do you think, Keev? Mind sharing a bunk with a cold-hearted killer?

As long as they don’t snore like you, Keev retorted, drawing a laugh from the others. Their mirth faded quickly, however, as they arrived at the supply dump at the end of the road. The column was just marching up the final stretch to meet them.

Diggs, Graves said, greeting one of the other crew leaders. Their respective crews fanned out behind them, sharing nods at men they knew, or hard looks at those with whom they had grudges. The one thing they shared was an obvious concern about the men that shuffled forward under the watchful eyes of their armed minders.

Stay here, Graves said to his men. After giving his own men a similar command, Diggs joined him in going forward to greet the rider. The barrel-chested sergeant swung down from his saddle at their approach. A few of the other crews who’d been working on the far end of the site were just arriving, and on seeing the situation their crew leaders hurried forward to join Graves and Diggs.

You think he knew about this? Barek asked, nodding toward their crew leader’s back.

It’s obvious he’s no happier about this than we are, Markhos said.

Sergeant, Graves said as Kerris handed the reins of his mount over to one of his men. The rest were watching the prisoners, though it looked like they were more likely to collapse at that moment than to attempt an escape.

Graves, Diggs, Kerris said. Have one of your men bring some tools.

Diggs turned to his crew. Archer, Kalben! Tools, over here, now!

The two men hurried off toward one of the sheds that clustered around the flattened space at the end of the road.

What’s all this now? Graves asked quietly.

You should have been told that you’d be getting more men, Kerris said, clearly uncomfortable.

More men, but not... like this, Diggs said.

Yeah, well, we all have to make do with what they give us, the sergeant muttered. In a louder voice he said, These men are going to be divided between the labor crews. A few on each.

Do we get to pick them? one of the men watching asked.

Doesn’t look like there’s any gold in this lode, only dross! another added, drawing a few laughs from the crowd.

Stow it! Diggs said, cutting off the commentary with the hard look that was part of the armory of every crew leader. Graves reinforced it with a look of his own toward his own men, though it was clear they were all thinking the same.

They going to bivouac with us? another of the crew leaders asked.

No, the sergeant said. They’ll spend their nights in the old barracks in town. On site, they’re your responsibility. They give you any trouble, cause any problems, you let me know.

Yeah, that’s real reassuring, Diggs said under his breath, but Kerris had already turned to address the prisoners and the men watching. You men know the deal, he said, his sergeant’s voice booming over the hillside. He looked at the prisoners as he spoke, but it was clear that his words were meant for everyone present. As of now, you lot are part of the army of the Duke. In exchange for your service, your sentences have been reduced. Work hard, obey your crew leaders, and your crimes will be commuted when the war is over.

That means you don’t get your bloody heads cut off! one of the men in the crowd yelled.

Kerris shot the crowd another quick look that promised hard consequences before he nodded toward one of his men, who produced a small ledger book from his pouch. Diggs’s men had arrived with the tools, and they came forward at a gesture to the front of the coffle. The prisoners had been shackled with simple pin-manacles rather than complicated and expensive locks, and on command shuffled forward to be released from their chains.

Crew leader Diggs, Kerris said. Prisoners Sonders, Bullo.

Sonders was a squat man who sagged a bit, as if he’d been a bit stout before his imprisonment. His skin had the olive tint of a southerner, perhaps from the Elkor Isles or one of the other kingdoms that extended along the shores of the Blue Deep. But it was Bullo who drew everyone’s eye. He was a tall, thick brute who rivaled Barek and Markhos for sheer size. His head had been shaven bald at one point, and was now covered with dark stubble. As his shackles were being removed he fixed the whole assembly, soldiers and sergeant and crews alike, with a look of cold derision, but once he was free he followed Diggs’s gesture over to his new crew.

I think we just dodged a bullet, Markhos said quietly.

Wait for our turn before you celebrate, Squints replied.

Crew leader Graves, Kerris said. Prisoners Ivhon, Schnitt.

The first prisoner was a man even older than Graves, and for a moment the crew leader felt a cold pressure on his chest as he looked at him. Just for that moment, he was seeing not the man being released from his shackles, but an old friend. Months had passed since Reyn Vanek had died, on another construction project in the riverlands, far from here. Yet there were certain times where the pain of that loss still felt fresh. Graves’s hand tightened on the shaft of his shovel, which had belonged to Vanek, and which he’d kept as a sort of talisman.

But then Ivhon was freed, and the moment passed.

Distracted by the old man, Graves barely noticed the other addition to his crew until he was released and came over to join him. Schnitt was young, maybe even younger than Keev. The sleeves of his coat were covered with old