A Controlling Evil: Lorrach Chronicles, #1

By Dave Hayes

When evil comes, heroes will rise

 

A nation born in tragedy grows through sacrifice.

 

When the fragile peace of Lorrach is shattered, a young Captain Meyer springs into action, defending his homeland. Despite the unwelcome interference of his father, Meyer, with the help of old friends and new companions, embarks on an epic quest to find the source of the evil that has been unleashed on the world.

 

Far in the future, war and massive ecological disaster have destroyed the Earth. New nations rise from the ashes of the Dark Years. Much knowledge from the Before Time is lost.

 

As Meyer experiences the brokenness of the world, he learns to find hope in the peace of a life lived in service of the Great King and his Son. Meyer's mentors, friends and new relationships all teach him how to live peacefully in a brutal world. Can Meyer find a better way and re-write the history of a lost world?

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Speculative Hayes Publishing
• Release date: Aug 31, 2023
• ISBN: 9780645927702

Dave Hayes

Dave is a pastor in regional NSW, Australia and collects hobbies. He loves disappearing into new worlds and finding ways to be the hero… I mean write the hero!

Book preview

Copyright © 2023 David Hayes

All rights reserved

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

ISBN: 978-0-6459277-0-2

To everyone who listened to me talk about my hobbies

Contents

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter SIx

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty-One

Chapter Forty-Two

Chapter Forty-Three

Chapter Forty-Four

About The Author

Chapter One

North of Port Urdos, Lorrach

Captain Meyer sprang to his feet and rushed over to the young soldier who’d burst into the mess hall, screaming for him. He cast his eye over the blood and mud covering the man’s face and grabbed a crumpled piece of paper from his hand. The sharp tang of blood stung his nose. A strangled groan escaped the soldier’s lips before he collapsed to his knees.

Meyer’s eyes widened when he saw the green and red patch on the man’s arm. He was supposed to be far to the North, guarding the mountain pass. Meyer’s machine-like mind whirred as his eyes flicked back and forth, racing through every possibility. What on earth had happened?

He smoothed out the note, careful to avoid the many bloodstains across its grimy surface. His hand shook as he read. Commander Montague's handwriting appeared scrawled and brief, nothing like his usual voluminous reports.

Captain, deploy north, we are overrun.

2nd Regiment destroyed.

Hunt retreating with any that could be saved.

Men covered in metal, augmented soldiers, attacked out of the East, burning cities as they came.

They must not capture Port Urdos.

Meyer glanced at Henry Carver and Simon Gibbons. These men served as crew leaders. They’d fought with Meyer since their unit had been formed out of the success of the southern wars.

Carver and Gibbons had abandoned their breakfast when the bloodied private had burst in.

Meyer handed the note to Carver and ran his fingers through his dark hair as they read.

Carver raised his bushy eyebrows and passed the note to the Sergeant. The enemy must be terrible for Montague to write like this. The smoke to the East must’ve been cities burning like we thought. Will we be able to stop them? Carver fixed his eyes on his captain, waiting.

Meyer pursed his lips and pushed a burst of air out of his nose as he considered the answer. His mind churned, slotting facts and guesses into potential plans.

He tugged at his leather armour, adjusting straps and tightening his sword belt. He reached up to check the sword strapped to his back, its hilt resting behind his neck. It was like his body was ready for action before his mind had caught up.

The 2nd Regiment had a thousand men. They were well-equipped and well supplied, defending a mountain pass only about seven hundred metres wide.

We won’t know until we have more intel. It doesn’t matter really, the Commander’s right. We’re the only formed body of men between the mountains and Port Urdos. I’m just glad someone escaped to bring us the message. Meyer gestured at the soldier who now lay on a stretcher, attended by a medical team.             

Simon Gibbons wiped a rivulet of sweat off his bald head. This must be the trouble to the East that Montague was investigating. If these ‘augments’ he looked back down at Montague’s note to check, ‘burned cities’, they must be a large force. Hunt will have a hard time retreating. I wonder how many are with him? He handed the note back to Meyer. What are your orders, sir?"

The mess hall was silent now. The assembled soldiers waited, their meals forgotten. Everyone sat still, not wanting the wooden trestles to scrape.

Meyer’s mind raced through what the 2nd Regiment falling meant for him and his army. With the 2nd regiment wiped out, the eight hundred fighting men and women under Meyer’s command were the only soldiers between the mountain pass and Lorrach’s capitol, Urdos.

If the capitol fell, the Republic of Lorrach would be laid bare. The nation’s entire economy and infrastructure depended on it.

Meyer’s soldiers were far from helpless. They’d been highly successful in the many bitter fights to liberate the southern countries from cruel warlords and invaders from beyond the sea. They were called charioteers, recalling great armies, now only read about in rediscovered books from before the Dark Years.

Meyer shut down his speculation and forced himself to focus. He allowed hope to grow inside him. His soldiers had been training for this purpose. The beginnings of a plan fell into place in the back of his mind, a deep vault, always churning. Many called him cold, but those who knew him trusted his resolve to win.

Meyer turned to his Crew Leaders. Men he trusted. They leaned forward.

Carver, prepare the chariots. Gibbons, arm the men, full battle ready.

The rest of the soldiers in the room exploded into action. They’d been watching Meyer intently since the soldier interrupted their breakfast. They streamed out of the mess hall and headed to the garages. A siren signalling action stations screeched through the Mêlée.

Carver and Gibbons remained standing while the mess hall emptied.

What is your plan, sir? Carver asked.

Advance North, as far as we can. I’ll send the rangers ahead of us. We’ll deploy in chariot formations. Perhaps in the open ground we’ll have more chance than Montague did. I’ll know more when we can get a visual of these augments.

Meyer slowed his breathing down, pushing his thoughts to the back of his mind. He needed to be present. To your stations now. I’ll meet you in the command centre.

With a nod, the two crew leaders marched past Meyer and out the door.

Meyer blinked as he stepped into the early morning sunlight. The entire camp dashed about as if someone had stomped on an ant nest. Meyer smiled; the men and women under his command were well-trained.

Gibbons peeled off and headed to the armoury. Gravel crunched under his feet as he went. His aides and soldiers were already handing out swords, shields, bows and overflowing quivers.

A select few carried hand-held pulse guns. Their energy source depleted quickly and were only used in the most desperate of moments.

Lines of soldiers formed, moving towards the garages. Their chariots waited for them. They were skid steer buggies armed at the front with a small Pulse Cannon, and on the back, a second soldier wielded a PRP, a Personal Rapid Pulse gun, mounted on a pivoting platform. These machines were new to Lorrach and Meyer loved them. Lorrach’s historians had discovered the Before Time technology to build them deep under Lorrach’s capitol, Port Urdos, somehow untouched by the chaos leading to the Dark Years. Mechanics rushed about the Chariots with solar power cells and tyres, making final preparations.

As Meyer and Carver scanned the scene, a wiry man ran up and saluted. Denis Aims served as Crew Leader for a unit of Lorrach’s Rangers. The Rangers fought with bows and every Ranger carried a long, straight fighting knife that could double as a short sword. Most Rangers could use explosives, which they had discovered deep underground in Before Time manufacturing sites around Lorrach.

Excellent, Aims, deploy your Rangers to the North. I need intel and cover for any survivors of the 2nd Regiment, Meyer ordered.

The North, Sir?

Yes, Aims, our time is short.

Aims blanched, Yes, sir! He spun and ran towards the barracks.

Meyer watched Aims disappear around the corner, confident that he would do his work well. His rangers were the best in the business, handpicked as a forward support unit for the charioteers. If there were any survivors desperately retreating south out of the mountains, Aims would protect them.              

The Rangers wouldn’t be able to stop whatever destroyed the 2nd Regiment and captured the mountain pass, but they’d be able to create enough trouble to protect a retreating rear guard.

Meyer turned to Carver, who’d returned to his side. Contact Richard Merryweather at the line. Tell him to deploy the reserves to the rear and then meet me at command.

Carver nodded. His eyebrows bristled as he marched towards the communications tower.

Meyer stood for a beat and scanned the area. He stooped and made some final adjustments to his leather boots and resumed his inspection of the camp. Satisfied that everything was in motion, he walked towards the large moving platform they used as a command centre. Thick armour covered its caterpillar track, and it had a concrete structure bolted to it, housing their radios and war maps.

It gave the charioteers a tactical edge when they moved forward on a battleground as far and as fast as they could. Choosing where a battle started gave them plenty of room to manoeuvre and the ability to fight on their own terms. It was a strategy that’d worked for them before.

Meyer knew there’d be nothing ordinary about this battle. They’d always been fighting with larger armies. Being the last line of defence was a new thing for them. This would be an all out fight for the continent and the other nations that relied on them for security. He shuddered as he thought of what led the General to write such a bloodstained note.

Movement caught Meyer’s attention as he walked. His personal aide, Jonathan Spenser, a short, stocky soldier, ran towards him, carrying his captain’s pulse gun.

Jonathon rode on the back of the chariot and fired the PRP with deadly accuracy. They’d fought together many times and could almost read each other’s thoughts.

Aims said something about an attack from the North? Jonathan mused as he helped his captain buckle on his weaponry.

Yes, Montague sent a note, metal-covered, augmented soldiers. Hunt is retreating, Meyer replied.

Well, sir, keep calm and carry on, Jonathan said, mimicking the cultured accent of their allies from the island of Lunden.

They’d fought beside the Lundens several years ago and Meyer found them too polite and stuffy, although they were ferocious warriors, often outstripping the best of Lorrach's own regiments. Meyer knew Jonathan was imitating them to help Meyer relax. He’d always found Jonathan’s calm acceptance of whatever happened reassuring.

Jonathan chatted away as they continued towards the command centre.

Chariot’s fuelled and ready. The greasers have done a good job on the old girl. The engines are running beautifully and the new batch of tyres are shipshape.

Meyer’s mind wandered as they walked. He liked the pulse guns in his arsenal. Lorrach’s historians had only recently revived them after finding subterranean Before Time manufacturing facilities, full of machines and technical manuals showing how to use them. Knowledge about why they worked, or how to recreate them, had been lost in the dark years. Lorrach’s historians had searched constantly for hints and ideas, but had found nothing in the last twenty years.

The Pulse Cannon and Personal Rapid Pulse guns had given him a significant tactical advantage in the southern wars. No one else had them. Meyer pursed his lips, knowing that not everyone in Lorrach liked them.             

As they approached the door, Meyer clasped Jonathan’s arm and put a hand on his shoulder. See you soon, he said.

Jonathan nodded and headed towards the garages. His sturdy legs propelled him forward, ready for action.                            

Before he could move again, several soldiers rushed up to Meyer to give reports on the various units that made up their small army. Impatient to get moving, Meyer talked as he edged towards the entry stairs of the command centre. He brushed his hair out of his eyes to concentrate on each soldier. He didn't want them to think he was annoyed on the eve of battle.

The last of the soldiers finally trotted away and Meyer entered the command centre. As he closed the door, he felt the platform lurch forward and heard the deep-throated roar of the chariot engines firing up all around them. It had begun.

Chapter Two

Three days earlier, Putian, Nation of Danei

W e must stop the Republic of Lorrach before they conquer us, General Kai Rukai's voice boomed across the amphitheatre. He stood on a wide open stage before a crowd that stretched into the shadows at the back of the room. Mark my words, they are evil. General Kai Rukai's voice boomed across the amphitheatre.

The assembled nobles and rulers, resplendent in exquisite robes and jewel encrusted and plaited hair, clapped and cheered.

Rukai beamed. His smile matched the glitter of the morning sun striking the gilt-edged columns surrounding the speaking platform. He rubbed his hand over his top lip, hiding a smirk. He hated the king and hated having to bow and scrape in such a public place.

The King of Danei raised his hand and the chatter ceased. The silence throbbed with expectation. Every eye fixed on the King.

General, I agree that Lorrach’s so-called peacekeeping is a thinly veiled excuse to add to their territory and influence, but why should we worry? Lorrach is many leagues from here.

King Truku. The General bowed his head in mock respect as he spoke.

I’ll make him eat out of my hand.

They have already imposed themselves on the nations south of them. They’ve placed a garrison at the mountain pass to their north. Their production of weapons, their chariots, are increasing.

General Rukai paused, not wanting to sound too eager. He spoke again in a softer tone, Our spies report that Lorrach’s ambassadors are pressuring countries to adopt the same style of government and laws. They’re as good as taking over nation by nation. If we don’t act soon, they will come here. He kept his face neutral, hiding the white anger and disgust inside him.

The King looked steadily at his general. He readjusted his wide purple belt, adorned with embroidered serpents and dragons. How can we think of making any difference? Our armies are insufficient. They don’t put the kind of pressure on Lorrach that would force a change in their behaviour. We are no threat to them.

My King, there is a way. Our historians have revived Before Time technology. We can create powerful armies and use them to defend our homeland.

And annihilate Lorrach.

The king nodded, I have seen your augments, General, and they are impressive. But are they ready? And is it wise to use such a powerful weapon?

A ghost of a smile played across the General’s face. He knew his moment had come. We can deploy armies across the continent in three days, Lord King. We must use great power. It will shorten any conflict and ensure our victory.

The General held his breath while King Truku stood. The assembled nobles murmured and fussed, waiting for the King to speak. General Rukai held his breath, willing himself to stay calm.

Deploy your augments; we must protect our people. The King turned, a sad expression on his face, and walked through a door set to the side of the stage.

Yes, my King. The General stood straighter, his eyes gleamed.

And then your days will be numbered.

◆◆◆

General Rukai slammed the door of his private training room and marched over to the rack of swords and maces waiting near a wide-open window. He grabbed a short sword and ran his finger along the edge as he watched the birds fly over the ornamental pond and verdant gardens outside. The beauty had long since stopped making any impression on him.

Bah, King Truku is so weak. I will crush him and make Danei great again.

He stepped back into the centre of the room and swung his sword around, flowing into an intricate series of movements. He poured all his energy into keeping his body and sword in motion. With each precise position, his control was perfect, his weapon held without wavering. Many enemies had died thinking they could best the general in swordplay.

A soft knock at the door caught his attention. Yes, who is it? he barked.              

General, I have news from the factory.

Excellent, come in, come in.

The servant pushed open the door and bowed. General, we have activated the augments across the continent. If all goes well, they will attack Lorrach from the south and the north in three days.

Are the augments we’re leaving in Putian waiting in the right places?

Yes, General, we moved them exactly where you asked.

Have you sent my orders to the King’s household guard? I need them out of the city.

Yes General, they left this afternoon. Only a small contingent remains.

The servant handed over a rectangular box. It was as wide as Rukai’s chest and adorned with a leather strap.

General Rukai grasped it, a wide smile stretched across his face.

◆◆◆

Present Day, Port Urdos, Republic of Lorrach

Kyan padded to the front of the warehouse and paused. He pressed his ear against the hole in the door, straining to listen. His nose twitched as the smell of ancient wood wafted from his touch.

The dust and dirt accumulated over hundreds of years seeped into the wood grain, giving many of the beams and wall planks an oily sheen.

Once Kyan was sure no one was outside, he pushed gently on the door, easing it open. He slipped out and ran across the cobblestones to the dark shadows thrown by the stone buildings opposite him.

He wore a long robe adorned with a single dragon, gathered in the middle with a leather belt. Kyan rearranged it so he could easily reach his ornate dagger. Its carved handle showed a serpent coiled around it, the blade extending from the serpent’s mouth. He tucked his long, plaited hair into his belt and waited. He held his head to the side, listening.

The soft slap of waves hit the dockyard walls. Gulls screeched over the long jetty, fighting over scraps left by the dockworkers the day before. The first rays of dawn threatened to break out across the sky.

His hideout was at the end of several ancient warehouses in a row that stretched out from the dockyard. Many had been repaired and were in use. He turned over in his mind all he knew of these buildings. They covered the shafts leading to vast underground facilities left intact at the end of the Dark Years; solar cell factory, grain storage, ship repairs, pulse gun factory. Kyan spat when he scanned past this building. He hated the Lorrachs and their capitol. Their grab for Before Time technology had shamed Danei. They couldn't leave this slight unanswered.

Kyan noticed large wet puddles and remembered the rain earlier that night. He sniffed the air, glad the rain was unaffected. He wouldn’t need to avoid contamination.

Satisfied no one was close by, he crept along, keeping to the dark shadows until he reached the end of the buildings. He craned his neck to look around at the wide open space leading up to the jetty, stretching out from the dock into the darkness over the water. Kyan grinned, pleased the dockworkers were sleeping late. They’d been drinking late into the night before.             

Kyan sprinted across the open space. He reached the taller buildings opposite him and didn’t pause as he climbed. Broken bricks gave him hand and foot holds until he reached the wooden framed upper stories, which were far easier to climb. When Kyan reached the top, he lay flat, gasping for air.

As he caught his breath, Kyan wiped sweat off his face. His fingers ran across a wide scar that ran from next to his right eye down to his chin. Kyan propped himself up on his elbows and peered over the low wall that ringed the building he’d climbed. His partner, Shyan, crept out the door he’d left minutes before. The first rays of morning light made his shaven head glow. Shyan headed off in the opposite direction. Kyan hoped their augment army had stayed hidden. It was too early to unleash them.

Satisfied Shyan wouldn’t be spotted, he pushed himself up and shuffled across the rooftops, moving closer to the capitol buildings.

The sun rose higher as Kyan jumped from building to building. Wide porticos and covered verandahs allowed him to move easily from building to building.

He paused more often to check the streets below as he got closer to the capitol buildings, watching women and children walking outside to hang their laundry, the first chore of the new morning. Shop owners swept dust from the front of their stalls, men strode out of their houses, carrying their tools. Kyan had followed many of them before, learning their habits and listening in on conversations.             

Kyan reached the ring of buildings sharing a wall with the capitol compound and shuffled low over to the far corner. Waiting here were food canisters and water. The top of the parapet wall had broken apart to create a small alcove. If anyone looked over from another building, all they’d see was a crumbled wall. It was the perfect spy nest.

Kyan grinned, happy the night watchmen were too lazy to check everywhere. Nobody had disturbed anything. He reached over to the wall and pushed his fingers between cracks in sandstone to pull out loose stones. From here, he could see the whole capitol precinct arranged around a central building.

The ornate stone buildings with intricately carved statues of birds and animals hanging from the parapets both appalled and fascinated him. The strengthening morning light danced across their stone features.

Despite the grandeur, Kyan hated the decadence. He lived in squalor while Lorrach bossed its neighbours around, getting whatever they wanted. 

Kyan spat as his anger threatened to burst out. His finger reached up and traced the full length of his jagged scar. He knew General Rukai would have convinced the King to unleash the augments by now. Dwelling on the victory that awaited him calmed Kyan.

He focused his attention on the capitol square. The cobblestones glistened as the morning sun burned off last night’s rain. Movement across the square caught his eye. The buildings on that side were less ornate and more functional, simple stone structures easily used for a variety of purposes.

A man wearing a brown tunic walked out of a door and up some stone steps. Kyan’s watchful gaze followed the man as he crossed the courtyard to the main building. Thick columns and ornate parapets ringed the structure. Their immense size cast matching shadows across the courtyard, making it appear as if the man winked in and out of view.

Kyan opened his small red book. All the details of his watching were recorded here.

Ah, that is the one they call Wynrich. He is a strange one.

He knew Wynrich wasn’t like the rest of Lorrach’s elite. Wynrich hated how Lorrach used recovered technology, and Kyan had recorded most of a loud argument with the President. Wynrich wanted the technology used to revive pulse guns retooled to make machines that would heal the devastated land. He’d argued for solar cells to be given for free, so people could light their houses instead of candles and coal that made children sick. Instead, the President used the solar cells for the chariots Lorrach’s armies now used. 

One good apple can’t redeem a rotten barrel.

He watched Wynrich disappear through the columns and into the large doors. Noting in his book that Wynrich had arrived on time for his regular meeting with the President.             

Kyan returned the book to his pocket and shuffled into a more comfortable position. He needed to know if the capitol’s routine changed. When they unleashed the augments, Kyan wanted everyone to be where they were supposed to be.

The sun grew hotter as it rose and Kyan watched the capitol square fill and empty as people bustled about their tasks. Occasionally, he would check his notes and add new information or record the snatches of conversation that wafted up to him.

A siren wailed in the distance. Loud shouts reached Kyan.

The dockyard! Has someone found us?

He replaced the stones in the wall, fumbling in haste, and hustled across the rooftops, following the noise. Gulls screeched as they swirled around the dockyard roofs, disturbed from catching fish off the jetty. Kyan raced across rooftops, barely looking down, coming close to falling several times. Slowing as he got closer to the dockyard, he breathed deeply to slow his heart rate. He could hear dock workers running about. The jumble of many voices washed over him.

Jumping across the last couple of roofs brought him closer to the commotion. He crept to the edge and peered out over the wide, open space in front of the main dock. He glanced down the street and saw his abandoned warehouse undisturbed. His heart rate finally dropped.

They haven’t found us, so what is going on?

He looked back to the dockyard. Pulled up on the beachhead and tied to the jetty were all kinds of boats and barges. There were even several row boats. A great mass of people flooded across the jetty and filled the open space.

Kyan’s eyes widened. Many were covered in blood and most carried a random assortment of household goods. He looked at the ships; they bore flags of the low countries. A noise caught his attention on the jetty. Soldiers carrying bows and empty sheaves stepped from a sleek frigate. Leading them was a woman wearing blood-stained brigandine armour. Her hair tied back, giving her a severe look to match the scowl that greeted anyone in her way. Kyan didn’t know who she was, but could recognise the pattern splayed across the archer’s shoulder plates.

Tarifa. The augments must