Agents of Chaos

By William Diaz

Premia has fallen.

The Shiidon, the late Emperor Ellis' creations at Omega Research have escaped the facility and gone on a blood rampage, killing at will.

The Clothian Overlord Darius and his armada, commanded by General Viscera seem unstoppable, leaving a trail of destruction in their wake.

As the Clothian's grasp reaches into the regions beyond Falcotta, Omega escapee and Naga leader Dean Jayden along with his Naga Brotherhood are outgunned and out numbered, wondering if their new found powers are a curse or an advantage.

In a world where uneasy alliances, double dealings and bloodthirsty killing machines are the norm, the real battle for humanity has just begun.

Once dubbed agents of chaos, Dean Jayden must not only keep his brotherhood alive, but he must also shoulder the weight of a dying world.

• Language: English
• Publisher: William Diaz
• Release date: Dec 14, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463843222

William Diaz

Born and raised in Toronto, Ontario, Canada. Enjoys time with his wife and child, watching MMA and reading, George RR Martin, Jack Whyte and Matthew Reilly among his favorites. William's first short story, Holy House was published by Dapper Press (click the link to read the interview). William's second short story, Scarlett, was recently published by Meizius Publishing's Grey Matter Sci-Fi Digest. His third short story, Pest Control: A Scarlett Mission was published by Meizius Publishing for their 3rd volume of Grey Matter; his latest short, Island of Toys has been published by Starving Writers. As of this writing William has completed a full length Scarlett novel titled, Codename: Scarlett. His first book titled "Inquisition", book 1 of the Blood Moon Chronicles and book 2 Agents of Chaos, is available in the following ebook distributors. Also check out the 5-star review! Inquisition (Blood Moon Chronicles #1) Check out this book on Goodreads: Inquisition (Blood Moon Chronicles #1) http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/23377874-inquisition Amazon...http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00OARFNOC, iTunes...https://itunes.apple.com/ca/book/inquisition/id952565562?mt=11, Kobo...https://store.kobobooks.com/en-CA/ebook/inquisition-10 and Barnes and Noble...http://m.barnesandnoble.com/w/inquisition-william-diaz/1120923506?ean=2940046460629. You can find more info on William at: https://www.facebook.com/pages/William-Diaz/1480236135588937

Book preview

Prologue

Town of Marigold Hills, Falcotta

A scarlet night draped the sleepy town of Marigold Hills, creating an eerie hue and turning the field of vibrant marigolds, the town’s namesake, to a pale orange. The rumbling in the distance was nothing new for the townspeople, such an occurrence happened all the time.

Not everyone felt the same about the rumblings.

Old Lota Akers was out for her nightly walks down the narrow streets, dressed in her handmade tan dress and dark blue shawl. At the tender age of eighty-five, Lota has seen every event in the history of Falcotta; she had seen the Republic of Premia in her glory and the catastrophe that destroyed her. The old woman’s father, a minor land owner named Wesley Akers, stood among the very crowd that witnessed King Berndhart Villach’s execution just outside Premia’s Republican Hall. Old Ronana had lost count of the number of neighbours and loved ones that perished from the wars and pestilence, including three sons who were slain in battle.

Rumour had it in Marigold Hills that Lota had seen strange, nightmarish non-human beings, though many of the town folk dismissed them as foolish ghost stories from a babbling old woman. Lota had lived long enough to know that the rumbling sounds in the distance was not the usual sounds she was accustomed to; Lota knew thunder when she heard it.

What she heard was more in tune with a platoon of foot soldiers. Lota searched her extensive memory for any word of the Imperial Army on the march but none came to mind. Instinct took over as the old woman looked back and saw the birds suddenly take flight from the foliage, someone or something had spooked them, possibly from the rumbling that only grew louder. Lota picked up her pace as fast as her elderly legs could take her. Although there wasn’t anybody around to do her harm, she suddenly feared for her life. As a little girl, Lota’s grandfather told her tales of Nagle tribesmen travelling into Marigold Hills to trade their animal pelts for dry goods. She remembered sitting on her grandfather’s knee as he regaled her with stories about the strange tribesmen, their prophesies of night demons and other unspeakable entities from the Amber Forest still ringing clear in her memory, as though she heard them just the other day. A greater evil such as we have never known exists, the tribesmen would tell her grandfather, and is gathering a massive host, nobody is safe.

Lota Akers looked back again, and for a split second the old woman thought she saw the movement of blue shadows in the distance where the rumbling took place. Already anticipating danger she ran as fast as she could to her little hut, in hopes that she would be safe from her nightmare. Her neighbours took notice of the old woman’s strange behavior but nothing more was done for the people of Marigold Hills to take shelter. Lota shouted at the top of her lungs that death was coming to them and to take their children and flee from this place. They laughed at the old woman’s claims of doom; they told her that the rumblings occurred often and to not worry, it will pass. The old woman finally made it home, now terrified of the rumbles and the faint sounds of growling. She closed her shutters, headed straight to her tiny bedchambers and hid in her armoire.

The Shiidon quickened their pace as they reached the outskirts of Marigold Hills. The anticipation of another kill at the end of the hunt intensified as the Shiidon were twenty feet from the gates of the quiet town, emerging from the surrounding forest, their approach like a dark storm cloud. Ever since the fall of Premia, the Shiidon had been scattered all over Falcotta; bringing terror and death along with them. Tonight was no different from any other, with their prize of fresh meat only a few feet away.

From her armoire old Lota heard the screams of her friends and neighbours as the monsters wreaked havoc on Marigold Hills. Her fear had paralysed her, cold sweat trickled down her wrinkled forehead and back. The anguish twisted inside her chest; Lota had warned them about this impending death and now to their peril, they all found out too late. If only she raised the alarm a little sooner....

The door of her hut opened with a crash, making Lota jump from fright. All she heard were the thumping of heavy footsteps and their deep grunting guttural breathing. The old woman put her hand to her mouth; she peeked through a tiny hole and was taken aback by the appearances of these barbaric killers. Lota Akers closed her eyes in the false hopes of shutting out their horrific image. When she opened them she saw an empty room and let out a huge sigh of relief.

The pine door was savagely kicked open. The force of that kick threw Lota off her feet; shattering her pelvis and the small of her back as she hit the wall of her armoire. She tried to move but couldn’t, the door pinned Lota Akers to the floor while the monsters blocked her exit. She looked up at them and shook her head. I was dreading this day, Lota rasped, wincing in pain. She had multiple cuts on her aged face from flying wood splints. I was dreading the day I saw your faces; the stories my grandfather told me were true!

The monsters dragged old Lota out of the armoire and proceeded to slice, stab and bite the old woman until she stopped screaming and flailing.

Blood Contract

Waiting was one of those things a man had no control over, like an incoming tidal wave smashing a tiny seaside village. Time seems to stand still; every minute spent in waiting was another burnt into obscurity.

Seneschal Nikola Tike, advisor to the ruler of Arinia King Rogerio the Second, chose the hideout south of the Amber Forest, near the Nagle-Falcotta border. He opted to go alone as opposed to having an armed escort of Phoenix Guards to see him through the rugged Nagle wilderness, a huge risk for someone of his position and so far from home. The black haired Seneschal Tike left his quarters under cover of darkness. He shaved off his close cropped black beard, giving him an almost unrecognizable appearance, before taking the servant’s hallways and entrances to conceal his presence from the guards and other nobles wandering Rock Tower. Other than his gold and silver Seneschal’s medallion, he dressed in a plain brown cloak and hood instead of his usual, black and maroon silk attire. His vehicle was hidden among the nearby bushes.

Three weeks ago at a pleasure house just north of Ezeriah, Nikola Tike’s contact, a skinny, pale skin man with a flat nose, hair shaved on one side named Hartun, who had a taste for fine clothing made the connection between Tike and the four who would earn his coin. If the stories were true, the four were the perfect lot for the plan he intended on carrying out. Wizards, assassins or inquisitors; no matter what they called themselves, they were stone cold killers who sold their deadly talents to the highest bidder. When Seneschal Tike asked for their names, Hartun hesitated, responding in hush tones. The Quartet.

In a time when motorized vehicles were as common as brothels, Seneschal Tike was perplexed when his contact told him that The Quartet only rode on horseback. Horseback? he remembered saying, he face twisted in disgust while almost spilling his ale. Are they bloody mad?

Forgive me for being so bold my lord Seneschal, Hartun had sheepishly said with his palms spread open. But knowing The Quartet’s ill-repute, you are still willing to hire them. I ask you, who’s the madman, the ill-reputed or the man who hires them?

As Seneschal Tike peeked through the shutters of the hideout, his thoughts drifted to the plan in mind. His actions alone would earn him a date with the executioner for high treason. Consorting with these brigands carried a very huge risk; they could easily turn on him at any point of their mission. Tike backed away from the shutters and paced the length of his hideout, trying to calm himself. Everything will work out. This is the best solution, the realm would be much better off…

A faint clopping sound snapped Seneschal Nikola Tike out of his train of thought. He dashed back to the shutters and opened them to allow a sliver of the morning sun. Four tiny silhouettes were approaching the Tike’s hideout at a slow canter. Fucking horseback, he thought bitterly, very well...it must be the four...let’s get on with this.

The canter of horses grew louder as the Quartet drew near, until Seneschal Tike heard the sounds suddenly stop. After three heartbeats Tike heard the four dismount off their saddles and approached the door with a knock. He opened to find four, weathered looking men in long velvet robes the colour of granite, trimmed with gold and dusty from travelling. Around their sun soaked necks they wore a red gold medallion with a matching snarling skull. All four robed men entered Seneschal Tike’s hideout silently, each pulling back on the flaps of their robes to remove their assault rifles hidden beneath and hanging them off the corner of the chairs before taking a seat, but leaving their handguns and bladed weapons on them.

Shit, Tike thought as he caught a glimpse of their skull medallions. Followers of Moros. Who have I gotten mixed up with?

May I offer you a drink? Something to re--

The first Quartet, a burly Moros wizard with a long black beard and large bald spot placed a gnarled hand over his cup and spoke with an accent that could only come from the peninsula of islands known as the Matenga, located in the Dragon Sea. No wine. We make deal first, then drink.

Seneschal Tike placed the pitcher of wine back on the table. Shall we get started then? I am Seneschal Nikola Tike, Advisor to King Rogerio Gaius the Second, Sovereign Guardian of Arinia.

I am Xande the Black Blood, if it pleases you, my lord. Before we begin, do you have payment?

They don’t waste any time. Over there, Tike pointed, far side in a chest.

Xande beckoned to his companion beside him. The second Moros wizard, a pale faced man with a body as lithe as a sapling, a pointy beard to match his brown hair rose to inspect the chest; it closed with a thud and the second wizard returned, whispered something into Xande’s ear. He left only to return minutes later with empty leather saddle bags and began filling them. The Seneschal for a split second saw that Xande’s gold flecked eyes swirled, like molten lava.

Gera Corpse Dancer says payment is good. Xande leaned in. Our deal can proceed, according to your specifications.

Good, the Seneschal paused. However allow me to speak freely. Your price seems a bit...much.

The third Moros wizard who was seated next to Gera Corpse Dancer glared at the Seneschal and hissed something in the Matenga tongue. He had bushy black eyebrows, short black hair, a face full of scars covered by thick stubble and a permanent scowl. Xande Black Blood raised his hand slightly, which momentarily silenced his companion. Jonaz says to offer you to Moros as sacrifice, Xande smiled, noting what looked like fear in Seneschal Tike’s brown eyes. Deal is deal my lord. Since no blood shall be offered to Moros on this job, then we must charge extra for kidnapping.

Seneschal Tike sat grim face, he saw no other choice. What about him? the Seneschal jerked his thumb towards the last Moros wizard off to his left. He hasn’t said anything at all.

Xande Black Blood looked over at the last Moros wizard and laughed, the sound booming throughout the hideout. The fourth Moros wizard had a small mouth, thin mustache, manicured hands, shaven head and pale grey eyes. His face was impassive; he did not react to the Black Blood and his laughing. Xande reached for the pitcher of violet wine and filled his cup. Skabraz has nothing to say, because Skabraz has no tongue. The Black Blood took a sip. A fine vintage. But I cannot help my curiosity, why him? Why set Nagle rebel clans up for the fall?

Nikola measured his words carefully. Give away too much and these wizards, or assassins for hire could use them against him. Those are good questions, Seneschal Nikola poured his cup, drank and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. The rebel clans because they are a means to an end, they’re easy targets; and what better place than here. He took another sip. As for your first question...for love. For power, titles, lands; because he has something that I want.

Seneschal Nikola Tike took another long pull of his wine said nothing more.

Chapter 1

One week could fly by like a breeze or feel like an eternity.

As it so happens, Dean Jayden and his Naga Brotherhood were lucky to be alive despite the imprisonment imposed on them. Even then Dean was still trying to put the pieces together of their stay in Drest Hill.

After leaving Canmohr with survivors in tow, Dean Jayden and his Naga Brotherhood found themselves detained in Deer Valley, the unwilling guests of Dillon Armand, Lord of Drest Hill and Guardian of Deer Valley. Affectionately called the Hill, the castle towered over the land that has been an Armand stronghold for six centuries, ever since Dillon Armand’s forbears over-threw their landlords and arch nemesis, the feared House of Dudley. Lord Armand’s ancestral thick leather bound book, Armand, chronicles how Lazarus Armand led two hundred men, snuck into Drest Hill in the early morning by climbing the massive walls with ropes and hooks, taking the castle without raising the alarm. Once Lazarus and his two hundred were within the castle walls the Armand soldiers went on their killing spree, slaying Lord Marlon Dudley, his two sons Clark and Davis, all of Dudley high command and including the Dudley priests while they were still in their sleeping clothes. Lazarus Armand’s army of fifteen thousand men, a large number in those days that consisted of other lesser Valley lords loyal to the House of Armand, were posted thirty paces outside Drest Hill, waiting for someone to open the castle’s massive portcullis. With the Armand army now inside Drest Hill, every Dudley man and those loyal to them were put to the sword.

Dean, Brett Wagmire, Gershon and Knaxx were not treated harshly, but each were taken to separate chambers throughout the castle, their interrogations lasting for hours, with all of them telling the same story. In between the questioning Dean heard one of Lord Armand’s officers, a thin but grizzled man with curly brown hair and a sour smell to him named Jackson Tua suggesting to cut their throats and be done with it, then take the survivors themselves to Ezeriah and present them to the king.

Not now, said Dillion Armand. If their stories do not pan out, then you have my leave to give them all red smiles, Armand looked over at Dean. When the time comes, leave that one for me, the one with the peculiar looking sear marks on his face.

After the interrogations, Dean Jayden was escorted back to Lord Armand’s comfort chamber and made to sit on the hard wooden chairs. His meal consisted of a slop of rice, stale bread, hard cheese and wine.

You and your men tell quite the story, Lord Armand said as he pulled up a chair and seated himself just off of Dean’s right. He called for more wine, then handed a cup over to Dean. The Canmohrites call our gold wine white, but Harris my wine master would say otherwise, Armand smirked as he and Dean took a sip. Let us be frank: my men are itching to spill your blood, but that would only bring us back to square one. Lord Armand took another sip. Now this tale about the Emperor of Premia injecting his male populace with a potent serum to create super soldiers sounds pretty far-fetched, even with those markings on your face, the Lord of Drest Hill leaned in so close that Dean could smell the wine on his breath. We’ve questioned some of the people that came with you, and they too tell a similar story. They are either so afraid of your Naga Brotherhood, or you just might be telling the truth.

If Dean was bothered, he did not show it. Instead he asked, So where does this leave everyone?

Dillon Armand sat back bobbing his head and smiled. Now that is a very good question. You and your men are free to go. Your weapons will be returned to you, as well as the vehicles and the people you brought them in, on one condition.

Something tells me I don’t have much of a choice here.

I will accompany you, Lord Armand continued. Two hundred of my people will join me to provide you and yours with an escort to Ezeriah. My second born Matteas will come along as well.

Armand called for a servant to summon his sergeant-at-arms, his two sons, Jackson Tua and Dean’s trusted men. Five minutes went by and the chambers opened up to Gaston Coldheart Matheson, the sergeant-at-arms with thinning blond hair, heavily muscled with a bushy beard. He was dressed in the Deer Valley fashion: heavy tipped boots, brown wool leggings, heavy leather tunic trimmed with white fox fur and a thick, long coat with the white fox insignia of the House of Armand, stitched on the back. He was armed with sub-machine gun, a hand gun the size of Dean’s BMG-37 and a hunting knife. He was accompanied by Matteas Armand; a boy of seventeen with long chestnut brown hair, long legs and arms and dressed in all brown heavy clothing. His eldest brother Davis, heir to Deer Valley was twenty years old and bigger than his younger brother. He wore his hair tied back, thick olive green long coat with matching tunic and black trousers. He was armed with a pistol and machete. The last to enter was the grizzled veteran named Jackson Tua.

Gaston, gather two hundred strong men and have them assembled at the gates, quickly.

They’ll be ready in fifteen minutes, Gaston Matheson said in a gruff mumbled voice. He quickly turned, armaments clinking as he walked out of Armand’s comfort chambers.

Allow me to introduce you to my first born, Davis Armand, heir to Deer Valley and my second eldest Matteas. Of course you’ve already met our friend Jackson Tua. Dean and Jackson eyed each other wearily.

Both brothers shook hands with Dean as Brett, Knaxx and Gershon were ushered into Dillon Armand’s chamber. This is Brett Wagmire, Knaxx and Gershon, my brothers-in-arms and former cellmates. Boys, these are Lord Dillon Armand’s sons, his eldest son and heir to Drest Hill, Davis Armand and his second eldest Matteas. They will be escorting us to Ezeriah.

After the pleasantries were exchanged, a runner entered the comfort chamber to inform Lord Armand that the men were assembled and waiting.

We are set, said Lord Armand as he ushered Dean and his group out of the comfort chamber. Armand fell in step beside Dean. You were fortunate to find yourselves in Deer Valley this time of year.

Why is that?

The ice storms here make travelling the valleys very treacherous, nobody for miles would have been able to help you.

Armand trackers led the huge entourage through a series of hidden, wide paths that neither Dean nor his scouts would have found. On their voyage Dean retold Lord Dillon Armand his harrowing tale. Before long they found themselves on the main road and on route to Ezeriah. After hours of trekking on bumpy roads a set of enormous rock faces blocked their paths, like giant sentries guarding a castle. Dillon Armand pulled Dean aside, Ezeriah is up ahead, the fortress is set within the rock faces. Easy to miss for the foreigner, but those were the specifications that royal engineers of old were given by King Idwal Gauis to build Ezeriah centuries ago, Armand cleared his throat. Forgive me if I still find your story hard to believe.

Dean Jayden shrugged his shoulders. I suppose I wouldn’t either if I were in your boots. I would like to show you our new found abilities, but I fear we might do more harm than good. Either which way, we’ve delivered the survivors to Ezeriah as promised.

A squad of ten guards in with phoenix emblems on their dark grey uniforms and armed with long assault rifles came out to challenge the large group. Lord Armand stepped forward, the guards recognizing one of the king’s standard bearers and rushed to open the giant gates. The procession of survivors walked on through, some thanking the Lord of Deer Valley while most thanked Dean Jayden and his men. When the last of the entourage past the threshold Lord Armand turned back to find Dean and the Naga Brotherhood going the other way.

Dean! he called out. Where are you going? Only a madman ignores the dangers!

Dean turned back, his lips curving into a very thin smile and shouted back. Lord Dillon, thank you for your concern. But ask yourself why you haven’t seen my any of my men take food, water or rest along the way. Then recall our story and see if you still have any doubts about what we are.

Brett ran up to Dean. Where are we headed?

South, he responded. Back to Falcotta.

Chapter 2

Tor Castle

Overlord Darius looked out from his terrace, watching with satisfaction at the latest group marching in from the farthest lands of the Simtar Region known as Maladus, notorious for producing the Maladus Marauders. The Maladus Marauders added their strength, three thousand guns along with Darius’ mighty armada and his reserves of one thousand, blood thirsty reavers from the violent city of Ammorah. Ascula’s prediction suggested that the swelling Clothian armada would run through Falcotta in a matter of months.

Overlord Darius made his way down the winding stairs, his footsteps echoing in the long hallway. As soon as Darius reached the courtyard he began inspecting his killing machines one by one and was pleased with what stood before him. When the Clothian was done he commanded his captains to dismiss his armada and meet in his work chambers.

His captains arrived and found Overlord Darius at his massive work table, poring over the various maps held down with miniature gargoyle figures. The Overlord looked up from his maps. The time has come. The Blood Moon Scrolls are out there, find them and you shall find me a generous lord. Falcotta is rudderless now that Premia is without any leadership, the land is ripe for the taking, Darius turned to his captains. Captain Aggripos, Captain Reindhart, you will lead the expedition. Meet with General Viscera in the field. I think fifty thousand soldiers should suffice?

Aggripos and Reindhart muttered their agreement. Excellent. I will keep a garrison of two thousand guns to hold Tor. The Overlord finished addressing his captains and sent them off to prepare for their mission. He then headed to his laboratory where his scientists laboured day and night. What stage of the experimentations are we in? he asked.

The scientist, a man called Chingis with a long mane of white hair, pale white skin and a flat nose was about to administer the dose of the Moliah Strain to a soldier dressed in the maroon outfit of the forces of Messsalina when Chingis spoke. My lord, we’ve already made a large batch of the strain and we were about to inject our guest.

Overlord Darius nodded in approval, waiting. Chingis approached the table where the Messalinian soldier was strapped in with thick leather straps and iron buckles. The Messalinian looked at Chingis in horror as he saw the needle enter his arm, struggling in vain as the prisoner was injected with the Moliah Strain. It took only a few minutes but the results pleased the Overlord as the Messalinian transformed into a blue skin grotesquery with fierce red eyes. At first the prisoner did nothing but lie on the table, empty, cold eyes scanning the room about. A few seconds later the prisoner bolted upright, snapping his restrains as though they were twigs. The beast turned, glared at Chingis and was ready to pounce when it froze, sitting on the table, only the soft growls and heavy breathing were heard.

Ascula, you never cease to amaze me, rasped Overlord Darius. He had held out his staff, the gargoyle’s head glowing to a shimmering red shine. The Moliah Strain responds to your sorcery, Darius said to Ascula as he stared at the subdued beast. He nodded his head, calling for his guards to wheel the prisoner back to his cell. The second phase is now complete.

The Clothian left his laboratory with Ascula walking in stride beside him. The pair arrived at his personal chambers to find two dead guards, one lying face down while the other was slumped against the wall, five feet away from the entrance, both with deep slash wounds across their throats. Overlord Darius and Ascula looked at each other impassively, entered the chambers to find an unexpected guest waiting for them. I’m surprised my guards were no match for you... Overlord Darius’ voice trailed off but almost instantly he found his next words, My apologies, remind me my dear, but who are you? Darius asked his guest. Ascula glared at the intruder sitting with her legs stretched out dressed in a shiny, one piece leather suit and a pistol hanging off her belt. A bloody rag used to wipe her blade clean lay crumpled beside the woman with red hair.

The visitor had a sly smile. "I served under Emperor Ellis before he was killed. You, my lord may call me Femme Fatale