Godsknife: Revolt Read online

  Copyright

  www.EvolvedPub.com

  ~~~

  GODSKNIFE: REVOLT

  Book 1 of the Godsknife Series

  Copyright © 2016 Timothy C. Ward

  Cover Art by www.designbookcover.pt

  ~~~

  ISBN (EPUB Version): 1622539303

  ISBN-13 (EPUB Version): 978-1-62253-930-7

  ~~~

  Editor: Lane Diamond

  ~~~

  eBook License Notes:

  You may not use, reproduce or transmit in any manner, any part of this book without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations used in critical articles and reviews, or in accordance with federal Fair Use laws. All rights are reserved.

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only; it may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please return to your eBook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  ~~~

  Disclaimer:

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination, or the author has used them fictitiously.

  Books by Timothy C. Ward

  GODSKNIFE:

  1- Revolt

  ~~~

  SCAVENGER:

  1- Evolution

  2- A.I.

  ~~~

  Author Website:

  www.TimothyCWard.com

  Publisher Website:

  Timothy C. Ward

  Dedication:

  I love you all. Onward.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Books by Timothy C. Ward

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  What's Next from Timothy C. Ward?

  More from Evolved Publishing

  In a small, candle-lit cave, Anthon stood at the head of a table where his recruit, Jeremy, prepared to recite the final set of numbers. Anthon remembered fourteen months ago, when the now naked nineteen-year-old was a freshman at Iowa State with his face buried in a campus map—Jeremy had been so thankful for Anthon’s directions to the cafeteria.

  Jeremy’s face didn’t show much thankfulness now, as he sweated and gagged on the worm travelling up his windpipe.

  You’re almost there, Anthon thought.

  Watching a recruit call out the orden-worm was his least favorite part of his duty to Order. Success or failure in Jeremy's naming of the final number was life or death—live, and become an Order mage, and an atom to serve in Shila’s orden-powered circle; or die, and Chaos kills another.

  Further motivation to rid the world of its sickness.

  Jeremy hacked phlegm and swallowed. “Eight.”

  Good. You can do this.

  Shila offered a brief nod from the other side of the table. In spite of her apparent need to evoke respect through her chiseled demeanor, a bit of warmth couldn’t hurt their recruit’s confidence.

  It’s just the three of us, Shila. Would it kill you to show him why we rejoice to call you Priestess?

  “Seventeen thousand....” Jeremy’s voice scratched out through the narrow tunnel of air left between throat and worm. “...Four hundred, sixty—” He retched before he could speak the last number. The echo hit the short ceiling and bounced back dimensions between it and every surface before him.

  If Jeremy fails—if I fail—his death will toss me into a Chaos spiral for days.

  Shila had only given Anthon ten minutes of meditation to build the buzz of Orden before the ceremony. It itched on his gums and tickled through his eyelashes, ready for use in the sight of need.

  Jeremy turned onto his side and let a string of yellow-red drool hang into a two inch pool on the pixilated gray and pink stone.

  Anthon’s stomach clenched as Shila speared him with her disapproval. No one who struggled this much had risen to her inner circle.

  His reason for not having that privilege was different. If she was afraid their past relationship would diminish the merit of earning that position, surely he’d earned it by now. Jeremy passing the test should warrant that conversation soon.

  He gently pressed Jeremy’s shoulder back down into the stone. The skin warmed under his touch—a small violation.

  Shila’s directed stare warned him not to let that happen again, and he released his touch, issuing a short bow of apology. He wished he could speak for Jeremy, but that power had to come from within. Only then could Jeremy conquer the deadly worm.

  The equation had to come from the soul, an understanding of the Order of the Universe, and a mastery over it. Only then would the orden-worm choose the food laced into the atom’s stomach, burying itself in its host, after which the two would survive or die together in symbiotic harmony. If Jeremy did not name the final number, the orden-worm would enter his nose, feed on his brain, and methodically work its way down to his toes... until he was a sagging shell of skin on bones.

  Jeremy took a deep breath through his nose, tilted his head back and looked Anthon in the eye—terrified, but resilient.

  That’s the recruit I know.

  Jeremy nodded, closed his eyes to swallow, and hacked up, “Sa-van.”

  Yes.

  The orden-worm squealed a shrill cry as it wiggled up out of Jeremy’s mouth. Its snake-like head poked out from inside the curve of Jeremy's tongue, slid over the tip, and bent up near the atom’s flared nostrils. It clamped its teeth together and hissed, with two white fangs cutting down like a sharp ‘w’ over the single fang on the bottom lip.

  Jeremy’s eyes again shot wide as he watched the orden-worm turn to face him.

  A gray tongue slithered between the worm’s teeth. Some worms had been tainted somehow and chose to feed on their hosts regardless of the correct number spoken, perhaps because the atom did not truly possess Order.

  Jeremy's breaths pumped in and out as the thump of his heart rate climbed back over one-eighty.

  Easy now. Creation is ours to order. Grasp your birthright.

  Jeremy looked up into Anthon's eyes again.

  Anthon could only display the stern look he'd shown all his atoms during the most demanding times of their training. Chaos snaps thin branches.

  Be the trunk, he mouthed. He did not look up, not wanting to see Shila’s likely rebuke.

  Jeremy’s heart rate dropped below one-eighty. He grinned—as much as possible with a worm between one’s tongue—and directed his stare at his new partner.

  The worm rose past his nose, pointed its head
at Jeremy's left eye, and hissed. When Jeremy didn’t flinch, the orden-worm tilted toward his other eye, paused, and then curled back around.

  Anthon exhaled in time with his atom. Good work, Jeremy.

  The orden-worm curled over Jeremy's chin. It stretched long enough to remain in his mouth as it touched down on his sweat-glistened and expanding chest.

  The young atom exhaled his heart rate into the one-fifties as the worm aimed for its prize. Jeremy wasn't done yet, but at least the pain to come would have a positive impact.

  Pride turned Anthon's observation into a positive one as well, both in himself and in his pupil.

  Shila lifted her gaze to Anthon’s. She'd grown so much since they first met as newbies to this hidden world. She’d replaced the dirty pink shirt with dandelion-colored pattern that had covered her prepubescent body, and now wore skin-exposing, tightly tied straps, which displayed the most coveted form in their circle. The way her age distanced him from the girl he knew made Anthon feel worse than any orden high could redeem.

  He knew she had to hide that girl in order for her to be a strong leader, but if it meant burying that soul under a mountain of rock, why bother? For Order? Even he wasn’t that faithful.

  The orden-worm reached Jeremy's navel, arched its head back, maw gaping to make room for its fangs—

  Firm, Jeremy. No fear.

  —and plunged into the divot of flesh. The atom clenched and hocked spit.

  A few dribbles dotted Shila’s skin; Anthon dared not look her in the eye.

  The worm slithered out the rest of the way from Jeremy’s mouth as it burrowed itself in a concentric circle around the atom’s naval. The newly raised scar formed two loops before joining the widest part at the bottom. The worm halted its feeding frenzy as its length shivered under Jeremy’s pale skin.

  Jeremy exhaled and rested his head on the stone.

  Anthon patted his atom’s shoulder, releasing a dose of orden to calm Jeremy’s nerves. At his touch, the worm pulsed its thank you. “Welcome to Order.”

  “Satisfactory.” Shila took Jeremy’s hand and helped him off the table. “But left room for improvement. I trust you’ll make up for it.”

  She led him through the black shale wall, their bodies passing through as easily as ships through fog, minus the disturbance of gas. In her bedroom, her tap on their circle’s stored orden would flow into him and bond him to the circle.

  Anthon turned the other way and cast his height and dimensions on the wall. Before his hand reached the surface, he clenched his stomach and forced the molecules to part. Darkness and warmth allowed him to share company as he stepped through. Dark passed to light in a hallway lit by window panels, with a picture of a snow-covered mountain horizon, untouched by human interference—a portrait by Citkich, one of Anthon’s favorite Order artists.

  He could use the rush of orden Citkich must have felt when he’d finished. Jeremy had passed, and Anthon should be happy.

  Evelyn saw him exit the wall, jogged to him, and stopped cold when she saw his face. She waved her hand and stepped back. Her focus caught on his midsection, and her lip quivered.

  He traced her stare to the spots of blood on his yellow robe. He’d had thicker stains after Marc’s failed bedding. “It’s okay. He passed.”

  She parted her lips, then turned around, mumbling threats that would get her kicked out of the circle if she wasn’t careful. Her pant legs sashayed between her thin legs. Since she was one of his trainees, he knew her uni size—he hated to say uniform; sounded too stiff to him—and could yank her back from the nine feet four inches between them. He could, but never did. That wasn’t how he treated his trainees.

  “Evelyn, wait.” He increased his pace, replaying the conversations they’d shared, which verged on blasphemy.

  The girl had found lesserthan scripture; from where, she wouldn’t say.

  If he had to let her go, he would. Better that than let Shila do what he feared she could if she heard a hint of Maker text.

  He caught up. “Evelyn, please... talk to me.”

  She stopped. “Mortal words can’t rewrite time, nor unbind him from that demon.” Her pose faltered and the end of her braid swished over her shoulder. She might have been fighting back tears.

  “You can’t talk like that in here,” he whispered. No one else had joined them in the hall, but listening ears were not always visible, especially in Shila’s mount. “I know you liked Jeremy, and—” He lifted her chin and waited until she looked him in the eye.

  She did so in defiance, red veins within glazed eyes.

  “He told me what you talked about Saturday.”

  She ripped her jaw away, and swung her arm up in anticipation of an attack he didn’t make.

  “Really, Ev? When have I struck you?”

  “Things are different. I see differently. Who knows what you’ll do to keep your priestess safe?”

  “You’ve known me five hundred twenty-two days.”

  “Stop with the numbers. It’s magic as twisted as she is.”

  “I told you to keep your voice down,” he whispered. “If you want to leave, I will help you.”

  Better that than see her banished. He wasn’t high enough in Shila’s hierarchy to ask what happened to the lost ones.

  Evelyn considered his help, and flashed resistance. “I’m not leaving Jeremy.”

  Her boyfriend was experiencing the most pleasure of his life. He wasn’t going anywhere.

  “Ev, he’s made his choice, and now he has to stay and be trained.” Jeremy had decent self-control, but the intoxication of orden’s first dose was a hazard to all newborns.

  Evelyn covered her face as she sobbed.

  He continued. “The most dangerous thing for him now would be not getting the training that’s to come. With his new power, he’s as much a danger to himself as you, and to anyone else he encounters.”

  She threw her hands down. “Don’t you hear yourself?” She armed off a tear from her cheek. “Making people dangerous is not a teaching of Order. Even I know that.”

  “Dangerous only if used unwisely. World-changing when used properly.”

  Evelyn opened her mouth to interrupt—

  “We sweat and bleed to keep our cistern from depleting. Chaos is up to something, and we need all the newborns we can deliver. What better alternative do you see outside?”

  “You know well the three powers that make up our existence.”

  Oh, girl.... He took her arm and led her down the hall. “I told—”

  “Is everything all right over here?” Mercer appeared around the corner of an adjacent hall, his attention directed at Evelyn with an unpleasant coolness. “Has your rod given you advice you are unwilling to heed?”

  Anthon disapproved of the term for trainers—rod—which made pupils an object to be beaten into submission. “It’s not—”

  “I’m not talking to you, Anthon.” Mercer sliced a hand between them as his stare bore into Evelyn. “Your answer, atom.”

  “I understand his advice,” she said, “but I find it shortsighted.”

  Anthon’s heart beat rose. Be careful, Ev.

  Mercer almost smiled. “Oh? How is his question of a better alternative to Order shortsighted?”

  She lifted an upturned fist and extended a forefinger. “I guess that depends on how high you can count. That’s one.” Middle finger. “T—”

  Anthon swung a backhand into Evelyn’s mouth, stopping her from speaking what could get her banished.

  She stutter-stepped backward, shocked at his assault.

  Anger curled his fist. You think you’re shocked? He had no idea what he’d have to do to overcome the Chaos in that action.

  Now wasn’t the time to break character, not if they planned to get rid of Mercer.

  Anthon absorbed the dimensions of her uni, orden-slipped his finger into the noose-loop on her collar, and yanked her off her feet. His orden-worm heated his stomach at the use of power. It was the first time he had ever u
sed that piece of their uni.

  It felt awful.

  He carried her away from Mercer, drowning her curses by counting out loud the distance between points of rock in geometric sequences.

  Mercer did not follow them.

  That minor success did little to ease the tightness gripping his upper back. Discipline reminded him of the night his father forced him out of the house. He could still feel the tug on his shirt. In the aftermath of that wicked night, their family had split. He’d never seen his brother again, and his parents... he would never forget the way Chaos and clan Fiend had changed them—even his mother, who was just following after the man she’d married.

  Anthon led Evelyn down a long series of hallways, keeping his hand up in the orden connection that held control of her uni—for appearances—until he reached a crease in the Order mount. He sent his orden into a crack, which pushed the wall into a crevice tall enough for her to walk through; she was in no condition to walk through stone.

  Three acres of cornfields separated their mount from a farmstead’s pond. When they reached it, the sunset’s rays colored its waters purple and red. Beyond it rose a two-story, dark blue house as desperate for maintenance as the grass that sprouted around its sides.

  He lowered his hand and released the connection between him and Evelyn.

  She whipped her arm into the space between them, narrowly missing connecting a sidepalm to his throat.

  “Ev, please, forgive me. I had to stop you from forcing Mercer to take you away. You know I would never hurt you. Here is your way out.” He lifted a palm to the farm beyond. “Josai is a kind man. Tell him I sent you.”

  Shila would banish him, maybe worse, if she knew what he was doing.

  Everything I worked for....

  He inhaled through the tight knit of Chaos in his chest. This had to be done. “I’ve brought him atoms wanting to defect before. We have an understanding. He doesn’t know what we are, but will take care of you until you can afford to leave on your own. He can craft a story to convince police where you’ve been.”

  She looked up at him with rage, blood from her cut lip drying dark on her chin.

  He wanted to wash her wound clean, but feared snapping whatever restraint kept her from lashing out. “Mercer won’t rest until you’re a lost one. Josai’s farm is how you survive tonight.”