Knightshade: Shadow Scourge

By John Grover

The Great War with Perdition has ended but all is not well in the continent of Eurone. Prince Quinn, half human, half shade, lives in exile at the hands of his father, King Harlequin. The King withers into depression, leaving the kingdom of Vanosia weakened and open to attack. It is now that the Shrouded Woman seeks vengeance for the death of her sister at the hands of Prince Quinn. She will stop at nothing to see the extermination of the royal family and all of Vanosia.

In this sequel to Knightshade: Perdition Bleeds, the forces of darkness and light will once again collide in an action-packed, fantasy tale of family secrets, dark history, forgiveness and redemption. Prince Quinn is the only way to stop the dark shadow magic of the Shrouded Woman and the scourge she has unleashed upon the world. He must learn that to finally bring peace to the kingdom he will need to not only face the truth of the Shrouded Woman's identity but the truth about his own family as well.

This is book 2 of the Knightshade Series. It is highly recommended that you read Book 1: Perdition Bleeds before starting this book.

• Language: English
• Publisher: John Grover
• Release date: Jun 18, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463790717

John Grover

John Grover is a dark fiction author residing in Massachusetts. John grew up watching creature double feature with his brother on Saturday afternoons. This fueled his love of monsters, ghosts and the supernatural. He never missed an episode. In his spare time he loves to cook, garden, go to the theater to watch horror movies with his friends, read, talk about food, bake amazing desserts, play with his dog Buffy (yes named after the character in the TV show) and draw-badly.Some of his favorite TV shows and influences are The Twilight Zone, Tales from the Darkside, Space 1999, Battlestar Galactica, X-Files, Night Gallery, Monsters, Star Trek, and much more.He completed a creative writing course at Boston’s Fisher College and is a member of the New England Horror Writers, a chapter of the Horror Writers Association.Some of his more recent credits include Best New Zombie Tales Vol 1 by Books of the Dead Press, The Book of Cannibals by Living Dead Press, The Vermin Anthology, The Northern Haunts Anthology by Shroud Publishing, The Zombology Series by Library of the Living Dead Press, Morpheus Tales, Wrong World, The Willows, Alien Skin Magazine, Aurora Wolf and more.He is the author of several collections, including the recently released Feminine Wiles, sixteen tales of wicked women as well as various chapbooks, anthologies, and more. Please visit his website for more information.

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Knightshade

Shadow Scourge

John Grover

Copyright © 2018 by John Grover

Cover Art Copyright © 2018 by Christopher Zibelli

Map Copyright © 2018 by J. T. Renehan

All characters, events and descriptions in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons living or dead are the product of the author’s imagination and are purely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without written permission from John Grover.

The Knightshade Series

Book 1: Perdition Bleeds

Book 2 Shadow Scourge

Book 3: King Ascends

Table of Contents

Outcast

The Loyalists

Beloved at Thorn Hollow

The Shadow Rises

Sister’s Wrath

Flight of the River Raven

Empty Throne

The Shadow Thrall

Scourge

Dark Days

The Queen of Medfyre

Into The Wild

Alliances

The Pale

Final Showdown

Revelations

Battle Scars

Distant Relations

Other Titles by John Grover

Biography

CHAPTER ONE

Outcast

It was a lonely wind that caressed Dogan Isle. Here Prince Quinn spent his days and nights, mostly in solitude, banished from his homeland of Vanosia. He denied the love and warmth of his people and the luxuries of Gravynmere Castle. Now he lived in repentance, taken in by the Sisters of the Rose, an order of nuns that served the Lady, Goddess of Eurone. The sisters were missionaries whom had come to the isle to show the native people the true way.

Upon the highest hill on Dogan sat the abbey the sisters called home. It was built upon the site of an old, forgotten hill fort used long ago by ancient people. The native people have not forgotten it, however. It was a place of whispers and stories - of forbidden rites and savage sacrifices. It was the site of many bloody battles and shifts of power. It belonged to the native people, for it was the home and tombs of their ancestors. It was a holy place and a haunted place… for the ghosts of the past were said to still walk there. The abbey was restless, even in the dead of night.

It was there, every week, that Prince Quinn asked forgiveness for what he had become. Everyday he struggled to keep that other half of himself dormant—his shade half. His human body was a temple of two spirits: the pure human soul and the demon spirit—the unclean thing that once lived in darkness and filth. The prince made the choice willingly to become half shade, the ultimate sacrifice to save his beloved home from the forces of Perdition. It was the only way.

All of his dreams died the day he saved his kingdom. His bride to be pulled from his very arms, his father’s heart turned to stone, and his people afraid to look upon him. How could he blame them? He had become that which he hated most—one of the vile ones, the black hearts, the spoilers of innocence and the corruptors of souls. That dark side of himself whispered evil to him. In the midst of heroism and courage, it tried to turn him from his duties and seduce him to the darkness.

Even now, down on one knee at the altar of the Lady, he heard his shade half whispering in the abbey on the hill while the morning sun rose. It called inside of him like the collective buzz of flies upon carrion - crawling, nibbling, laughing.

Quinn said his prayers and bowed his head. He looked to his right, seeing three sisters in their white frocks and veils. They were sitting in the pews, holding perfect red roses, which is the symbol of the Lady and her graces. He stared at them while admiring their young age and their innocence. He wondered how they’d come to be here and why they’d chosen this life. He had no choice in the matter, but surely they had. Shouldn’t all nuns be old, gray-haired women who were comforted in each other’s company and content with a life of servitude?

Why don’t you test their innocence? The voice inside of him taunted. Spill their blood and taste it for yourself? Surely, they are not as innocent as they seem.

Back foul one, Quinn whispered. You are not my master. I am yours.

The young nuns glanced over at him shyly then looked away.

Quinn got up and walked from the abbey, his boots echoing on the stone floor. That was enough prayer for today. Outside, the sun had risen and the day was bright. Quinn hunted for meat and game to pay for the shelter and the sisters’ hospitality, providing meals for the sisters while they tended a garden on the far side of the hill. It was the least he could do for the room in the basement they allowed him. He set off with his bow into the lush forest and the beaches of Dogan Isle.

The natives on the island, the Kilri as they called themselves, taught him how to hunt. They instructed him where to look for the beasts and how to blend in with his surroundings. Coming from royalty, he never had to hunt and find his own food. It proved rather trying his first few days on the island, but after trial and error, he was as good as the Kilri themselves.

He crept through clusters of trees that caught the morning sun in dew-soaked branches. He hid among the shadows that gathered in patches in the thickest part of the forest. His homemade bow was armed and ready. Footfalls caught his attention.

A wild boar rustled its way through high grass. Quinn stalked it from leafy patch to leafy patch. Taking aim, he put the boar in his bow’s sights and…

The beast snarled at him and bolted.

Quinn leaped out of hiding and gave pursuit. He chased the boar through the forest, firing a few arrows but missing, hitting the trees around it instead. The animal snorted, running on, eluding the prince.

He kept the beast in his sights, rounding massive tree trunks and wading through tall, thick grass. Thorny patches snarled his feet, but he managed to break free of their tangles. Quinn followed the boar valiantly and even drew closer to it when it did something unexpected.

It turned and rushed straight at him. Quinn stopped and scrambled to load his bow, but the boar was on him. It slashed its tusks and caught the prince in the hip, tossing him into the air.

Quinn landed hard, a gash across his right hip. The boar turned and came at him again - bowing its head, tusks ready. Rage surged through the prince. He felt his blood boil. Saliva streamed from his lips and he growled.

The boar trampled toward him and Quinn’s hands transformed into talons. He drew his arm wide and slashed the beast, tearing its throat opened. It squealed once and rolled to the ground, going still.

Red flashed in Quinn’s eyes. Bloodlust filled him. He could smell the animal’s blood, its flesh and hide. He climbed to his knees and howled, eyeing the forest around him. He wanted to continue hunting, killing, and devouring; yet, he stopped himself. He stifled his breathing and his heartbeat began to slow. Quinn looked down on his hands and said a prayer to Lady. Slowly, his talons vanished making way to his human hands again.

He turned and looked at the lifeless boar, pity filling him now. He removed the dagger from his belt and skinned the beast, butchering it for the meat. When he was done, he buried the remains as the Kilri had taught him. He packed the meat up in a sack and headed back home.

###

Quinn crossed down on the beach. Many of the Kilri tribe members were fishing off the shore. He waved to some of them and walked through the sand. Women and children were playing in the sand. They were making seashell necklaces, drying fish, and tying fishing nets together for the men.

Among the natives were some of the older nuns from the Order of the Rose, whom walked and talked. They spoke of the Lady and her love for all people. They handed out scrolls with pictures drawn that depicted the Goddess’ kingdom in Heaven and the people down on their knees in prayer. There were even drawings of her quarrel with her brother Beelzebub and his quest to destroy her and her beautiful creations.

Quinn shook his head as he passed the sisters. He wondered how many times they’d come to talk to the Kilri and convert them to the Lady’s services. He knew he should be thankful for them taking him in, but he couldn’t help but feel they were a bit overzealous in their mission. They were the strangers here for the Kilri had lived here for thousands of years, or at least, their ancestors had. If the Lady had not made her presence known here among these people by now, then what did it matter? Perhaps she was content with the way they lived their lives. All he knew was in all of the weeks he prayed, she still had not answered him.

He watched the ocean waves and continued his journey back to the abbey. The ocean mist sprinkled his face and the smell of saltwater wafted beneath his nose. The isle was peaceful, no doubt about it; but, he still felt as a stranger in a strange land. He thought of his father often and tried to bury the sorrow and pain he felt. Perhaps one day he would let him come back home again.

At the rear of the abbey was a small door built into the foundation. Quinn stepped down a couple of natural stone steps to get to the threshold and pushed the door open. He passed barrels of fruit and vegetables harvested from the garden to a narrow room with a small bed and table. He slung the meat onto the table in preparation of cleaning and chopping it up.

He glanced over at a pile of old supplies and again saw his sword there. It was a reminder of days gone by, gathering dust and cobwebs. He tried to push the memories away, but they were always there. He’d discarded his armor long ago, battle-scarred and ravaged, as he had little use for it here. Now he wore a tunic the sisters had made for him, along with his boots. The sisters had many skills and were very self-sufficient. A part of him admired them and a part of him thought them foolish. They had seen nothing of the world back home from which they’d come, only this island and the natives. The wonders of Vanosia and the entire continent of Eurone were many and varied—different kingdoms, landscapes, rivers and oceans, snowy mountains and ancient histories. He missed it so.

His eyes began to well when the bite of his wound drew his attention. He cleaned the gash on his hip then sat down to deal with the boar meat. Tonight’s dinner would be a treat for himself as well as the sisters.

###

Quinn ate his dinner alone in his room. It was another part of his self-imposed penance. He felt he didn’t deserve the company of others. No comforts were allowed him, no friends, no companions, no warmth or kindness. He was unclean inside, spoiled, tainted, sullied. A darkness lived in him. He could never allow it the light of joy or happiness. He could never allow it to thrive or conquer him, for that would mean his end and perhaps the end of all those he had once loved.

The prince finished his meal by the light of a single candle. He knelt by the candle and said a prayer after cleaning up. He retired to bed once the cloak of night fell, having no hopes or dreams. Still, he looked toward another day that was the same as the last and the last…

Cold air brushed over Quinn in the dead of night, waking him. He opened his eyes to see a figure standing in his room. As his eyes adjusted to the dark and upon closer inspection, he saw that the figure looked like a warrior adorned in war paint. It was scarred from battle, dead eyes leering and was… translucent.

Alarmed, Quinn sat up as the warrior’s mouth gaped open; he lifted an axe. He charged Quinn. The prince rolled from the bed and hit the floor. Behind him another warrior appeared and another.

The narrow room filled with warriors and they surrounded the banished prince. Weapons slashed at him, arms reached, and voices shouted. Quinn threw punches and kicks, but nothing connected. Nor did a single weapon’s blow touch him.

Wicked one! a voice called.

Evil in our lands! cried another.

Dark, foul thing!

Quinn spun around, swinging, kicking, covering his head and face. Mere moments later, they vanished as quickly as they came. His bed trembled, sliding from the wall and his table toppled over. Then silence.

He looked around. They were gone. Phantoms of the past were they, still walking in the lands by which they had died in; except, they seemed quite aware of Quinn and his other half.

The door to his room opened. The eldest sister, Adelaide, entered with a candle in her hand.

Are you in trouble, Sir Quinn? Her voice resembled the wind trapped in a seashell. The noise from your chambers is disturbing the sisters.

I’m sorry, Sister Adelaide. It was just nightmares. I thrashed in my sleep.

A pity about your night terrors. I could offer you some tea?

A kind gesture but not necessary. I promise to deal with the nightmares in a more civilized manner. Give my apologies to your order.

Sister Adelaide nodded her acceptance and left the room.

Still uneasy, Quinn looked around the room, lit a candle and stared at his sword in the corner of the room. Blades were no good against ghosts. Then again, he would have never thought that he’d walk in Perdition as a half-shade and do battle with legions of demons. The world never ceased to surprise him.

He returned to his bed, leaving the candle lit and pulled up his blanket. He heard footsteps in the distance, which was not that of the sisters.

###

After chopping more firewood for the sisters, Quinn entered the abbey to seek council with Sister Adelaide.

In one of the many rooms, Sister Adelaide sat writing in her journal. She was one of the very few women in the order who could write, and so she kept a day-to-day log of the details of her mission.

Sister? Quinn stood in the doorway, for he dare not entering her room without permission.

Yes, Sir Quinn?

May I have a word?

Certainly.

He stepped into the room and lowered his gaze to the floor. I have concerns about the abbey.

Have we done something wrong?

Not you, Sister. This place. The land. There is something wrong here. Things walk the abbey at night.

Things?

Quinn nodded. Spirits. It was no dream last night that roused you. The spirits of the past were drawn to me. My presence here has disturbed something. The abbey is haunted. The Kilri know it too. That is why your mission has been unsuccessful. They will not come here.

Neither I nor the other sisters have seen or heard these spirits. Sister Adelaide’s face was one of pity and concern.

Just look at her. She’s judging you. Look at her old, withered face. You should smash it. Take her and crack her skull open against the floor. She deserves nothing less.

Sir Quinn? Sister Adelaide pursued. He had never revealed to her or her order that he was a prince, the prince of the capital city of Vanos, once heir to the throne of Gravynmere. No. He told them all he was simply a knight, seeking repentance for the deeds he’d committed during war. Terrible things he carried in his heart that he sought to unburden himself. He was a refugee from his own soul.

The prince ignored the dark half nudging him from the inside. Nevertheless. I must leave the abbey and find my own shelter. I will continue to hunt for you to repay your kindness all of these months, but I will live elsewhere on the isle.

She flashed him a half-smile. Her pale blue eyes tried to catch his gaze but could not. If that is what you wish.

It is.

May the Lady bless you and watch over you. Our doors here at the abbey will always be open to you.

Thank you, Sister.

Quinn left her room. He walked down the cold stone halls, glanced at some portraits of some of the older High Priestesses of Vanosia and stepped into the altar room. He bent down in prayer, again asking the Lady to quiet the shade spirit inside of him, begging her to forgive his deeds, forgive his travel through Perdition and to deliver him from evil. She had not yet answered his requests.

###

Quinn had observed the Kilri create shelters in their village from time to time. He set out to build his own shelter after vacating the abbey room with a small axe, his clothing and some food.

He located a place on the other side of the ridge from the Kilri village and at the edge of one of the forest clearings. This way his hunting grounds would not be too far from home and he could make trade with the Kilri. He liked hearing their daily lives occur not far from his small hut.

It took one full day, but he managed to chop wood, erect a frame, fasten a roof and raise the hut by the time he was ready to go to sleep. Except that sleep would not come. Instead, he was drawn out of his hut while the moon rose to the top of the ridge.

He looked down upon the Kilri village. It slumbered peacefully - cooking fires extinguished, huts quiet, food secured. He stood and leered over it, his anger rising, body quaking. Quinn’s hands shifted into talons. Massive black wings sprouted from his back, unfurling. His human and shade sides merged but he was unsure why. There was no danger here, no war, no wrong to make right. The prince simply looked down at the Kilri and hated them.

He lifted into the