The Chapel of the Wyrm: Fallen Rogues, #3

By Gerhard Gehrke

An invading army. A queen deposed. A city in chaos.

 

A war for Diregloom has begun.

 

When a band of the duke's elite soldiers seize control of the island, Digger discovers he's at the top of their list of wanted men. But the duke has something more in mind for the city besides arresting all who dare oppose his edicts.

 

For Isabel and the sisters of the Black Rock Mission have been protecting a secret. Whoever possesses what they're hiding will decide the future of the city and all who live there.

 

As for Digger, this means choosing a side in a fight he doesn't want but can't possibly avoid.

 

Grab part three of the dark fantasy adventure from the author of the best selling Goblin Reign series!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lucas Ross Publishing
• Release date: Oct 22, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393876830

Gerhard Gehrke

Gerhard Gehrke is the author of Nineveh's Child, the Supervillain High series, and A Beginner's Guide to Invading Earth.

Book preview

Chapter One

ISABEL ROWED.

To not keep pulling the two oars of the tiny rowboat would let the churning gray waves swamp the tiny craft. All thoughts of an easy score had vanished fifteen minutes into her journey. Now all she wanted to do was survive the next moment, the next wall of water, lest the sea consume her.

Tam, the young thief huddled across from her, had given up trying to help and was hanging on to the gunwales, her head hunkered down against the spray, her black hair glued to her cheeks, her teeth chattering.

Isabel wished she could blame Tam for their current situation, but the voyage had been her idea.

West Island should have been a little over two hours of rowing from Diregloom. But the late morning squall was pushing the waves into high peaks taller than most men. A column of water broke over the bow. Direction was impossible to know. They might have been heading out past the island and onto the great ocean and the abyss beyond its boundaries where the sky swallowed the sea.

Turn back! Tam said.

And which way is that?

But Tam wasn’t listening. Back to Diregloom! We’ll die out here!

The swirling mist and white sky hid the sun.

How far had they gone? Her stomach roiled and it took an act of will to keep her grip on the oars and not throw up. West Island was out there somewhere. And a smart thief never turned away from a score that could set her up for life.

THEY’LL SEE US.

But Digger’s warning was ignored as Isabel broke from the shadows of the glassware shop’s awning and out onto the waterfront lane. The morning crowd was much different than the nighttime bustle of tourists, gamblers, and thrill seekers who would come to Loom Island to spend their coin and find their luck. The early birds were merchants and city workers preparing for the next night’s revelry.

Digger caught up to her and hiked his cloak’s hood to further cover his face. He stood a head taller than many they were passing, and the squad of city watch at the corner wouldn’t miss him. But the bleary-eyed cops were distracted.

Down beyond the brick casino with the tiled marquee Gold Island stood the docks. Part of the harbor had become a floating community of boat dwellers and makeshift businesses, while its many piers still functioned to provide Diregloom its necessary trade access to the sea and the dukedoms of the mainland.

But what held the city watch’s attention worried Digger.

Soldiers were disembarking from a warship flying Duke Tito’s black wolf-head standard.

Isabel had been right. The duke wasn’t just stopping boat traffic anymore. The freighter was one of three which had landed on Loom Island.

Digger estimated twenty men were getting off this third boat.

Heavy-handed for a social call, he said.

I want to get closer.

Every instinct told Digger to keep back. He was used to working the nights and avoiding this part of the city whenever possible. Isabel wasn’t waiting.

The street switchbacked down to the frontage road where a crowd was watching. A few stands made up a small market that normally serviced the merchants but more and more had become a first stop to relieve tourists of their coin. Here could be purchased faux catacomb medallions stamped with a muscled, fanged fel beast-man sporting a whalebone club, tickets to shows and spectacles, portraits painted by waiting artists, fried sausages on a stick, and ribbons, garlands, hats, and masks to whimsically hide the face of any tourist who decided to play at anonymity.

A puppet show in a clapboard booth was in full swing. Several children were paying rapt attention to a doll-sized queen on sticks as she flogged a marionette duke wearing his telltale round haircut and black ruffled tunic. His puppet trousers were gathered down around his knees.

The queen puppet’s falsetto shrieks carried over the crowd. Shame, shame, shame, dear brother. Taxes, taxes, taxes is all you think about! We pay, pay, pay while you cry, cry, cry. Try sitting through the archbishop’s windy sermons now with a thrashed bottom!

The children and more than a few adults laughed. But the soldiers on the dock had a palpable effect on the mood of the crowd. On any given day, the duke’s boats arrived and left. After all, Bahia was Loom Island’s conduit to most of the other counties, lying just across the water with the best docks south of Pinnacle. But this many soldiers?

Something was amiss, and fel and purebloods alike had worry on their faces.

A few more brazen youths had gotten closer to the group of soldiers. The soldiers were arranging packs of gear, armor, and weapons in a tidy line.

Flatulent cheers and catcalls gave way to taunts.

A freckled teen began shouting. Duke Tit-oh’s men are here! Hey, you pegs! You scrote sacks! If you want to save on a good time, grab a hold of the peg in front of you and give us all a show. Might save a scrip note and make a friend!

Isabel took up position next to the dockmaster’s hut. Notice anything?

Yeah, Digger said. That Wharf Rat isn’t getting thumped.

Not that. The soldiers’ backpacks. Would they need all that if they’re just going up to the castle for another exchange of nasty letters between Claudia and Tito?

Three days’ rations, bedroll, personal effects, short sword or spear. Sixty pounds of bliss before you account for water.

Digger’s own days as one of Duke Tito’s rangers weren’t so far behind him that he could forget such burdens. While they’d had horses, more often than not their duty had involved hiking the treacherous ground of the eastern desert and hills unsuitable for riding.

Yeah, and not just that. No city watch. Those Rats would normally scatter. And they’re sure making a lot of noise.

Ruse?

That’s what I was thinking.

Digger took a walk. Further along the frontage road he got a better view of the warship. A skiff was being held in place by a half-naked boy beneath an open porthole. Another youth stuck his head out before shoving a sack of cargo down onto the waiting skiff. A second and third bundle followed before the youth in the ship squeezed out and lowered himself down into the waiting arms of his mate. They paddled off quickly.

On the dock a soldier was yelling at the taunting Wharf Rats, whose jeers only escalated. Only when two more spear-wielding men joined the first did the gang dissipate, running off and blending into the crowd.

Isabel let out a laugh. That’s how we did it.

I have a hard time believing you ever did anything like that. Might chip a fingernail.

Believe what you want. I ran with them, but that was before any of these kids were even born. You can see with your own eyes something’s going down with the duke’s men. You said it yourself that we can’t wait for whatever it is to happen.

And you knew they were coming here.

She nodded. I wish in this case I was wrong.

Maybe you are. This is probably a show of strength. Get Claudia’s attention. And knowing her, she’ll send them packing along with their gear and their boats.

A series of whistles blasted from the upper road. The city guard was here but it wasn’t for the Wharf Rats. They went from stand to stand, finally arriving in squad strength next to the puppet show. When the puppeteers didn’t stop whatever new violation was being visited upon the duke, one of the cops tore away the curtains and screens and shook the booth until the two admonished performers emerged and began to pack up.

The waterfront is closed! a watchman shouted. The cry was repeated by the other cops.

I’m not wrong, Isabel said.

He studied the crowd’s reaction. When it began to dissipate, fel and pureblood alike, he and Isabel hurried off up the street and away from the harbor.

It was time to meet back at the Dragon and Rose and figure out what they were going to do about it.

Chapter Two

WEST ISLAND APPEARED over the tops of the waves. Its low profile and mountain ridge were almost indistinguishable from the moving water and billowing clouds.

Almost there, Isabel said.

But Tam was curled up with her head pressed against the inside of the rowboat, having dry-heaved her way through the past hour. The sea had eased up slightly but still threatened to swamp their boat if Isabel’s attention waned. Calf-deep water swirled around her feet.

Keep bailing. Tam!

The girl snapped out of her misery and splashed double handfuls of water back to the sea.

A single harbor came into view. But landing there would be risky.

Isabel ignored the fire in her shoulders and arms and the agony that was the blisters on her hands. The surf and spray pounded loud and the boat slapped the ocean after every crest with a tremendous whack!

She rowed for what she could only hope was a suitable shore away from the harbor.

Not rocks, she prayed. Please not rocks.

CLAUDIA’S CATACOMBS echoed with her soft footsteps.

No one was working the subbasement to the castle, which she had turned into her subterranean playground. Her servants knew her well enough to leave plenty of oil lamps burning before clearing out and leaving her in peace.

After the events of recent days—the invasion of her castle by the mad fel killer Marcus, her own round of impromptu games, the fire, and the murder of Rochus, her steward, along with a few guards and a servant—she had some thinking to do.

Her intention to expand the catacombs east beneath the wall was going to be expensive and take a long time. Cost was a chief consideration even if it had never stopped her projects before. She had the money.

But despite the trolls who had invaded her games and killed a few of her guests, her event hadn’t been a total disappointment and ticket sales alone had covered her end.

It wouldn’t be difficult to stage another similar contest utilizing the streets of Diregloom and any one of several industrial properties, all at great savings.

Yet she worried.

Her guests, for one, hadn’t been pleased. Quite a few of those she considered part of her court had fled back to the mainland, and some with injuries. She tried to remember who exactly had died.

Not the end of the world, though. She could make new friends and the ones who had left would return, surely.

But wasn’t the waterfront bustling even after word had spread about a murderer of purebloods running wild? And now that the murderer had been taken down by the champion of her catacombs, the tourists would come in force.

She walked to the chessboard, where spring-loaded triggers beneath each square would send bolts or poison darts flying. Stepped on one. It didn’t click. The mechanisms for many of them had been stripped out and used for the spectacle at the sawmill. Repairing it all would be simple enough. But the chessboard was old news and boring, and she had so many new ideas in her head and in her notebooks that rehashing an encounter wouldn’t be necessary.

Besides, without the surprise, her fans would consider it a big yawn.

She sat on a fake rock made of wood and rubbed her ankle. It had twisted when she had been chased down by Marcus and the swelling persisted. Her doctor wanted her to use a cane, but she hated how it made her walk like she was an old woman.

Someone was wheezing behind her. Not her nephew Jamie. He was out in the city spending time with his fel lover, Sprite. He’d return soon enough as she had work for him.

You breathe too loud, Corporal.

Corporal Dario, recently promoted from the watch to her castle guards, stopped his lurking and stepped into the light. His gray hair was pulled back into a short ponytail. His face hung slack and he had bags under his eyes. The guards had been busy the past few days, doubling their patrols after having allowed invaders, including a lumbering ogre, inside the walls. They had nearly seen their beloved queen slain. The corporal, bless his heart, was taking to his new role as the head of castle security.

Lady Claudia, he said with his usual comportment.

I assume you’re here because there’s something which won’t wait.

It’s Captain Gaspar, ma’am. His summons...

"The duke’s summons, she corrected. I replied in writing. There’s nothing more to talk about."

Captain Gaspar has insisted that you appear and join him.

I will not be dictated to on my island and in my home. He will wait for my brother’s response and will have to do his best to be patient. And you may remind him that he doesn’t get to insist on anything.

I will relay the message.

Before the corporal could leave, she motioned for him to hold on. Oh, Dario? What is this Gaspar like?

Ma’am?

What’s he like? His disposition? A sporting man, would you say? After a couple of nights in Diregloom, do we have any observations as to his appetites?

He spent the night on his boat along with his men. They kept watch. Turned away the working girls, as I understand it. But he’s a corpulent man.

Is he now?

Corporal Dario nodded. But not feeble. While he swaggers, he carries himself like someone who can still swing his sword.

She giggled. Literally, I’m assuming.

He’s all business, and so are his Ravens. His men are the duke’s best and aren’t to be trifled with.

That’s what they said about his rangers.

She spent the next hour thinking about traps. Finally she knew she couldn’t ignore the rumbling in her stomach. A soft egg would suffice and then she would go to the clock room and resume her letter writing. There were voices echoing down the grand hallway. She sent a servant off to find out what the fuss was. The servant returned minutes later and stammered her report.

It’s the lord duke’s men, my lady. They won’t leave. Your guard has them at the entryway. Corporal Dario was struck across the cheek.

Claudia hobbled down the corridor, hitching the hem of her dress up so she could hurry. A dozen of her castle guards were standing around a cluster of black-clad soldiers who occupied the double doors at the entryway. A large soldier stood at their center and was facing down Corporal Dario.

Captain Gaspar’s thin red hair and clean-shaven face stood in contrast to the rest of his men, who wore their helmets with face shields down.

Whatever tumult was going on died down as everyone looked to her.

Captain Gaspar, I assume.

The captain nodded a greeting. Formal, but not deep enough for a man of low noble birth. Lady Claudia, I have orders from the duke to bring you with me back to Bahia.

And I sent a reply to my brother. Your involvement as intermediary isn’t required. And now you invade my home?

No offense is intended. But the duke didn’t send a request.

The duke’s sovereignty ends where the shore begins.

Gaspar licked his lips. Loom Island is one of his counties.

Loom Island is my domain as queen. I’ve sent my letter. You will wait for me to receive a reply. Then you will be instructed as to whether I concede to his invitation.

Lady Claudia, you’ve delayed us for days. We can wait no longer.

Is that what it will be then, Captain? Bloodshed as your men fight mine? Arrest me like some common rogue and drag me off in chains?

She tried to work out in her head who would win such a contest. Sadly, she didn’t know enough about the Ravens. Her own guards were trained but hadn’t proved a match for Marcus or her catacomb champion when they had broken into the castle following her impromptu games at the theater.

Captain Gaspar shook his head. No, my lady. No bloodshed. But Duke Tito was explicit with his orders. This island is to be brought under law. His law. I will leave it to him to explain this. But for now, if you won’t come with us, you’re to be kept here in the castle along with your comforts and servants.

How dare you. My island—

Will continue to function. The city watch will do its job under our direction. Your guards will be kept here and will protect you.

You can’t do this.

Direct your venom to our duke, my lady. I’m sure once you decide to visit him in person the matter will be cleared up. But for now, you’re to stay here until you change your mind.

She clenched both fists as the captain and his Ravens exited her grand hallway and made their way across the courtyard towards the gate. His men were already standing guard at the front of the castle, having replaced her own men.

Corporal Dario dabbed a bloody lip. Your orders?

Send for Jamie. Find out what else this captain is doing in my city. Summon every guard off-shift and bring them here.

What are we planning?

But she barely heard him speak. They can’t do this. They can’t. Diregloom is my city. This is my island. They don’t dare, and my people won’t let this happen to their queen.

Chapter Three

THE HARD ROCKS BENEATH the swirling foam slammed the bottom of the rowboat and almost caused Isabel to drop the oars. Tam was nearly thrown headlong into the sea as she sprawled into the floor of the boat. A wave struck them sideward and almost rolled them. Isabel pulled one oar with what strength remained in her and pushed them past the rocks into a seething mass of waves. She spotted a narrow beach choked with stones beneath a cliff.

The bow bit into sand even as a wave broke on the stern and doused them with more water.

Isabel threw the oars inside the boat and vaulted to the beach. The boat was too heavy to move on her own.

Tam!

Her fellow Wharf Rat tumbled over the gunwale. Isabel hauled her to her feet.

Pull! If we lose the boat, we’re truly dead.

Foot by foot, they hauled the boat in, the tide mercifully helping push the craft forward until it was beached.

Tam collapsed, fighting to catch her breath. How did you talk me into this?

Too late to turn back now.

The storm appeared to simmer above them, a churning spume of black and pewter clouds. The pounding waves drowned out all other sounds.

Isabel licked salt water from her lips. Turning back wasn’t an option. She studied the cliffside and chose what she hoped would be the best path up before beginning her climb. And Tam, despite her obvious exhaustion, followed without further complaint.

ROT HER BONES.

Sprat Hellard occupied the end of the bar along with Gregory and Sebastian, his two fel flunkies Digger had rescued from the last round of games. Both had showed up at the bar the next evening eager to do whatever Digger or Hellard asked of them. The ogre had wasted no time in recruiting both for his army of resistance against the queen, which now consisted of three members.

Two tables of pureblood patrons had stopped their conversations after the ogre’s outburst and were staring.

Keep a lid on it, Digger said.

Rot the queen’s bones, Hellard repeated, and I hope her boat back to Bahia hits a rock.

Gregory and Sebastian both nodded their agreement.

Monty was standing behind the bar, slicing a lime. If what Isabel told us is true, that could mean it gets worse for us.

You think it’s good now? Hellard asked.

Digger grabbed his arm. Out back. Now.

Forcibly escorting an ogre out of a bar was a feat few would dare, and Digger wasn’t sure he could win if his friend decided to fight him. But Hellard went along, muttering the whole way.

Once out in the alley, Digger confirmed they were alone. You can’t talk like that. Not in there. Not with a bunch of tourists listening.

They need to know the time for fun and games is over.

What they need to know is that it’s a scrip note for a beer and five for a plate of food. That’s Sofia’s place. You don’t get to bring down trouble on her head. We’ve done enough of that. Any one of those purebloods might tell a guard what a fel was saying and then we’d have the law here throwing their weight around.

I thought that’s what the tourists come to the Dragon and Rose for. The local color. To see the fel catacomb champion and pay for overpriced drinks.

I’m sure you haven’t missed it. Crowds have lightened up since the games.

Hellard sneered. That’s what happens when purebloods start getting hunted for sport.

Marcus had murdered a few tourists and guards before setting after the queen. Between Digger’s former ranger comrade’s rampage and Red Eye’s games being interrupted by Claudia’s own bloody contest, Diregloom had a growing body count.

Be careful what you wish for. The duke’s men landing here is no joke. We heard they went up to the castle. One of Isabel’s Wharf Rats says they’re going to arrest her. We won’t survive this being stupid.

You’re saying I need to keep my mouth shut.

Digger studied the ogre’s face with its sly grin. The big guy remained hard to read.

You just need to be careful. Your voice carries.

Gregory and Sebastian came out through the storeroom exit.

Hellard waved them along. Come on, boys. Let’s go down to my place where we can say whatever we want.

Your place? Digger asked.

The last time he had seen the ogre sleep, he had been crashing in the upper loft of the bar.

He followed them down the alley past the burned-out bakery Isabel was using as a shelter for the Black Rock Mission sisters. She had gone to great lengths to hide them in anticipation of some impending disaster. She hadn’t shared any details with him. The next three buildings in line were all empty, having been bought out by Isabel with her proceeds from the sale of her catacomb prizes.

Hellard led them out to the street-side entrance of a two-level townhouse at the end of the block. He used a key to unlock the door.

What did you say to Isabel to get her to give you a key?

Simple, my friend. It’s called rent.

There wasn’t much inside besides a few old broken pieces of furniture and some pallets. One room had a blanket thrown down between two piles of debris. The bathroom was a hole in the floor. Then Hellard led Digger upstairs.

A large room had been cleaned out. Ink, pencils, blotters, and paints were set out on a table and appeared to have been used. Several curling pages had paperweights holding them down.

Digger leaned in and saw each featured a hand-painted illustration of a fel male. The writing beneath it made Digger’s stomach grow sour.

‘Rise Up Fel,’ Digger read aloud. ‘Throw off the shackles of pureblood donation.’ Might want to check the spelling on that. What is this?

Hellard clamped a hand on Gregory’s shoulder. This is me discovering our friend Gregory’s artistic talents and Sebastian’s position at a printery. This didn’t happen by accident. I’m not normally one to give credit to the gods, but these two fine fel were given to us like a gift. That’s supposed to be a drawing of you on that page.

I’m not involved in this.

Yes, you are. You’re going to be the face of the second edition once I can get you to sit down for a proper portrait. I’m working on the headline now. ‘Join or Die.’ Or is that too blunt? How about ‘Smash the Purebloods! Do it for your children!’

This isn’t a joke.

I’m not joking. This is the best time for us and we can’t let it slip through our fingers. Everyone’s going to know your face. ‘Champion of the Death Games Needs You!’ That has a ring to it.

I’m going. Leave my face and name out of this.

Too late. You’re already bigger than yourself. The city loves you and the fel need you.

Digger tromped down the stairs and out the door. He needed air. Space. Whatever bad joke Hellard had in mind was beyond atrocious. The notion of spreading pamphlets and inciting the fel made him queasy. And now the ogre wanted to make something grotesque out of him.

He would have to put a stop to it. But it would need to wait until he could speak clearly and not explode.

He crossed town and made it to his apartment. Stumpy, the crow with the curled foot and missing beak, waited on the bannister and cawed. Digger didn’t have anything to share. He slammed his door and collapsed down on his bedroll with an arm over his face.

Shut the world out and let it go away.

WHEN DIGGER RETURNED to Hellard’s shop that evening, the door was locked and no one answered as he pounded on the doorframe. He took the alley to the back of the burned-down bakery. Before he could knock, Jamie emerged from the cellar.

Is she in?

The wisp of a princeling always managed not to appear nervous when looking up at Digger, unlike so many others. She’s...busy. She’s going to meet me at the bar in an hour. You can find her then.

Why did she rent that space to Hellard? Does she have any idea what he’s up to?

He pays in coin. Things have gotten expensive lately. And Hellard offered to provide security.

Digger looked to his left and right. Seems he’s not around. Isabel’s getting the raw end of a deal. But that’s her business. What he’s got going will bring trouble.

She told me about the soldiers closing the waterfront.

What do you know about these Ravens?

Not much. They keep going up to the castle and then back to their boats. Aunt Claudia is exchanging letters with my Uncle Tito.

You could go up to the castle and find out more. That way we’re not guessing.

Jamie appeared to consider the request. The nobleman had proven himself when he had kept Digger’s brother, Monty, safe while Digger had gone to pursue Marcus. And while Digger knew he could be trusted, unlike most of his kind, part of him still expected the inevitable disappointment of betrayal.

I’ll go, Jamie said. But later. After Isabel and I talk.

Tell her about my concerns.

Join us and tell her yourself. Your brother likes to see you and he says you haven’t been around.

Just be sure to tell her. And then find out what else the duke is up to on the island.

Jamie left him standing alone in the alley and vanished inside the bar. Then came the sound of someone locking Isabel’s cellar from the inside. Had the sisters been eavesdropping?

Digger lingered in the alley, listening for any sounds or voices coming from the cellar. But it was quiet now. If Isabel was down there she wasn’t saying a word.

The bakery’s cellar connected with the one beneath the Dragon and Rose. If Isabel had purchased the adjoining buildings down to the corner where Hellard had settled in, it explained where all her money had gone. It all seemed a bit much to shelter a half dozen fel women no one appeared to be looking for.

As long as Lady Sofia’s bar remained uninvolved, Isabel could do as she pleased. This business of Hellard’s was troubling, though. Honey for flies, and the city watch would be buzzing if the seeds of the ogre’s mad plot bore fruit.

Monty emerged into the alley. He dumped refuse into a trash can. Digger began to approach him but paused in the shadows when Lady Sofia followed. They whispered to one another and Sofia pecked Monty on the cheek. Monty laughed at something and then they both went back inside.

The two were happy, he decided, and he wasn’t going to interrupt their day by sharing his concerns.

One more day. Wasn’t that enough for any of them?

He had thought about returning to the graveyard and seeing if Xavier would let him go back to work. After all, Digger needed money for his own rent, and he wasn’t about to go to the castle and take Queen Claudia up on her offer to be her in-house champion for whatever fresh madness she had in mind. But the unease hadn’t left him.

Between the duke’s soldiers’ increased presence in Diregloom and Hellard’s scheme, something was brewing, and Digger wanted to keep watch and make sure none of it would spoil anything for Monty.

At least for one more day.

Chapter Four

THE CLIFF STOOD REPLETE with shifting rocks and soft soil which threatened to betray every hand- and foothold. But despite several near-catastrophic slides back down to the beach below them, Isabel and Tam made it to the thick scrubs and grasses crowding the top of the ridge.

Walking still proved treacherous. Their hours in the rowboat made the solid ground beneath their feet move as if the very island was trying to throw them off. Isabel steadied Tam as they pushed through the bushes to an overlook.

The Black Rock Mission’s hospital lay below. The collection of stone buildings were huddled together in a small vale near the harbor. A pair of lashed-down sailboats bobbed on the water against the dock. The stormy sunlight cast only a gloom down from above. The shuttered windows of the hospital showed no signs of life.

But there was life.

She had heard every word the