Refuge: The Arrival: Book 1 Read online

  Refuge: The Arrival

  Book 1

  A Novel of Fantasy/Science Fiction Fusion

  By

  Doug Dandridge

  Captain Antwoine McGurk pulled his hands down from his eyes and stared in disbelief at the scene that greeted him. He was expecting to see a blasted landscape, if he saw anything at all after being washed with nuclear fire. Instead he found himself staring from an undamaged face at a scene of rare beauty.

  His cavalry troop had been on the reverse slope of a hill north of Berlin when the three weapons within range had gone off. Now they were sitting on the side of a cobblestone track that ran between the trees of an endless forest to the rear. Just ahead were the perfectly tended fields of farming country, with cows and sheep grazing in open pastures, and a cluster of pleasant looking houses and barns about a half mile to his front. Figures were gathering in that small village, while other people hurried from the nearby fields. Several were pointing at the collection of tanks and APCs that were near the road.

  As the Captain watched one of the people mounted a horse and rode away swiftly in the opposite direction. The Captain pulled his field glasses and put them to his dark face, focusing on a distant structure on a hill several kilometers away. A castle sprung into view, similar to one of the capital castles he had seen in Germany, the homes of the rulers of one of the many small kingdoms of the sixteenth and seventeenth century lands of the Deutsch. But this was not the land of the Deutsch. Of that he was sure.

  “Those people look kind of odd, sir,” said Sergeant Ramirez, the tank’s gunner, leaning onto the lip of his hatch and focusing another pair of binoculars on the figures in the village.

  McGurk swung his own glasses toward the people and grunted when they came into focus. They seemed kind of small in reference to the wheels of the nearby wagons, the cows and the horses. Like children, or…

  “Hobbits,” said the Captain, a smile coming to his face.

  “Sir?” asked the gunner, looking over at the troop leader with a confused expression on his face.

  “You ever read Lord of the Rings, Ramirez?” asked the Captain.

  “I saw the movies,” said the Hispanic NCO.

  “Close enough,” said the Captain. “They look a lot like the little people from those stories.”

  “They look pretty harmless, sir,” said the gunner, nodding toward the village.

  “Hey McGurk,” came a voice over the radio/intercom. “You there?” The voice sounded very faint, with much more static than would be expected of the sophisticated communications system. Even if the atmosphere was roiled from multiple nuclear blasts.

  “That you, Taylor?” he asked, thinking he recognized the commander of D troop.

  “It’s me,” agreed the voice. “I thought we’d had it back there,” said Captain Taylor over the com. “What the hell happened anyway?”

  “A miracle,” said McGurk, crossing himself as he thought back to his early teaching in the Catholic Church. “We were about to be incinerated. And now we’re here instead. I call that good enough to be a miracle.”

  “And where is here?” asked the other Captain. “I’m trying to get a triangulation on your position through some other vehicles. Damned GPS doesn’t work.”

  “We’re on another world,” said McGurk, scanning the patches of trees on the other side of the fields. “This sure ain’t Kansas anymore. And I don’t think the satellites came with us.”

  “I didn’t want to really believe that,” said the other Captain. “Even though I’ve seen some strange plants and animals here already. But I guess it has to be true. Anyway, we have a fix on your position. We can’t raise the battalion or squadron, so I guess you’re the next higher link for me. Any orders?”

  McGurk swore for a moment under his breath as he looked at the castle. The gates had opened and a line of armored men on horses were leaving the castle. They were headed down the road from the top of the hill and coming in his general direction.

  Shouldn’t be too much trouble, he thought, looking around at the vehicles he had with him, most of his company. D Troops’ fourteen tanks would come in handy anyway, but…

  The flare of lightning caught his attention, dazzling bright even under the strong sun in the sky. He turned back to see a robed man on horseback point a staff toward his position and another crackling blast of lightning come searing down from the hill. It struck the ground a dozen feet from the forward scout track, leaving a smoking hole in the ground.

  “I think it would be a good idea to come to us,” said Captain Antwoine McGurk. “And don’t let appearances fool you. Be careful. These people might be more than meet the eye.” Or, he thought, watching the horsemen come his way, they might be exactly as they appear.

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to Robert E. Howard. He captivated me with his tales of sword and sorcery, of barbarians striding through primitive worlds of the imagination. I visualized Atlantis, Valusa, Cimmeria and Aquilonia through his eloquent prose, as well as all of his larger than life heroes. He was a master, and he died much too soon. We missed out on a lot great fiction when he took his life at an early age.

  Contact me at [email protected]

  Follow my projects at http://dougdandridge.net

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  Copyright © 2012 by Doug Dandridge

  All rights reserved.

  This book is Copyrighted 2012 to Doug Dandridge, all rights reserved. If you enjoy this work then please tell a friend and have them buy a copy online. I think the price is reasonable. Please do not pirate this work. I am a hard working part time writer, and am not making a fortune on my work. Please respect my efforts.

  Books by Doug Dandridge

  Doug Dandridge’s Author Page at Amazon

  Science Fiction

  The Exodus Series

  Exodus: Empires at War: Book 1

  Exodus: Empires at War: Book 2

  Exodus: Empires at War: Book 3: The Rising Storm (Coming Spring 2013).

  The Deep Dark Well Series

  The Deep Dark Well

  To Well and Back

  Deeper and Darker (coming Summer/Fall 2013)

  Others

  The Shadows of the Multiverse

  Diamonds in the Sand

  The Scorpion

  Afterlife

  Fantasy

  The Refuge Series

  Refuge: The Arrival: Book 1

  Refuge: The Arrival: Book 2

  Doppelganger: A Novel of Refuge

  Others

  The Hunger

  Daemon

  Aura

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  Cast of Characters

  Empire of Ellala’lysana

  Half Lich Emperor Ellandra Mashara. Four thousand year old Emperor of the Death worshiping Empire of Ellala’lysana. Nearing the end of his race’s natural lifespan, he has embarked upon an attempt to become undead in order to “live” forever.

  General Prince Tristialla Mashara. Twenty-six hundred year old son of the Emperor. Commanding General of the Armies of the Empire.

  Queen of the Undead Kilesandra Lishana. Three thousand year old (two thousand of mortal existence) priestess of the undead.

  Archduke Millosa Jakara. Archduke and Death Priest. Ruler of the Archduchy of Krashnagorda.

  Chieftain Girison Tortural. Village chieftain of the Gimikran people, Priest of Life, and a leader of resistance to the Gods of Death.

  Hunt Leader Lasasadar Klinisura. Hunt leader of the Conyastaya peoples and a leader of the resistance of the Gods of Death.<
br />
  High Priestess of Life Leinora Glassandora. Priestess of Arathonia and half-sister of Hunt Leader Lasasadar.

  Mangratha: Seer of the Grogatha peoples and servant of the Emperor, while also feeding information to the resistance.

  Kingdom of Lianardas

  King Ellidron Kjanara. King of the Kingdom of Lianardas and lifelong enemy of Ellala’lysana.

  Princess Lissindra Kjanara. Daughter of Ellidron and High Priestess of the Gods of Life.

  High Commander Fenris Hallanta. Commander of elite border patrol cavalry regiment of the Kingdom.

  Other Allies

  Garios na Gonron. High War Priest of the Kingdom Under the Mountain.

  The Human Immortals

  Kurt von Mannerheim. Ex Wehrmacht officer, Captain of Panzergrenadiers. Born 1912. Seriously wounded by fire at the battle of Kursk and recovered with no apparent injuries. Has not aged since the apparent age of thirty.

  Ismael Levine. The Wandering Jew of legend. Born Year 43 BC under the Roman Empire. The oldest know human immortal.

  Paul Mason-Smyth. Major, British Army of the Rhine (BAOR). Born 1984. Executive officer of First Battalion Sherwood Foresters (Mechanized Infantry). Unaware of his status at the time of transport.

  Jacquelyn Smith. First Lieutenant U S Army. Born 1994. The youngest of the transported immortals. Unaware of her status at the time of transport.

  The United States Army

  Major General Zachary Taylor. Commanding officer of the U S 3rd Armored Division. Highest ranking NATO officer to be transported to Refuge.

  Colonel Walter Delgado. Commanding officer of the third brigade, U S 3rd Armored Division.

  Captain Antwoine McGurk. Ranking officer of 3rd Squadron, 3rd Armored Cavalry Regiment.

  Warrant Officer One Jessica Stuart. Pilot of a Comanche Gunship helicopter. Assigned to U S 1st Armored Division.

  Private First Class Salvadore Maritoni. Rifleman with Company B, 1st Battalion, Third Brigade, 1st U S Armored Division.

  Master Sergeant Paul Baurieth. A Team second in command, Fourth Special Forces Group.

  Sergeant Major Cliff Jackson. Senior NCO, U S 3rd Armored Division.

  Deutches Bundeswehr

  Oberst Walther Wittman. Commander, First Brigade, 4th Panzergrenadier Division.

  Leutnant Franz Sturgil. Platoon Leader and tank commander, Company 1, 1st Battalion, First Brigade, 4th Pzrgrn Division.

  Senior Sergeant Johan Schmidt. Platoon Sergeant, 2nd Platoon, Company 3, 3rd Battalion, 3rd Brigade, 3rd Gerbigsjager Division.

  The German Civilians

  Dr. Vogel Kreigel, Biologist, Geneticist and creator of the Neowolves (New Wolves).

  Beate Terbourg, Citizen of the small Northern German City of Soegel.

  Dirk Winslow, half German half Black American lead guitarist and lead man for The Tarantulas, an up and coming German Rock Band.

  The University Faculty

  Professor Heinrich Raeder. PhD Chair of the Physics Department, Technical University of Munich.

  Professor Gertrude Fleiger. Professor of Chemistry. Technical University of Munich.

  Professor Margaret Deitricht. Professor of Physics and Nobel Laureate, Technical University of Munich.

  James Drake. Exchange student from London, Doctoral candidate in Physics and Schizophrenic. Technical University of Munich.

  Dieter Sturmfeld. Doctoral Candidate in Chemistry, Technical University of Munich.

  The Mages

  Doctor Gunter Schneider. Psychiatrist, Charite Campus Benjamin Franklin Klinic fur Psychiatrie.

  Stephan Neigal. Schizophrenic on Earth. Fire Mage on Refuge.

  Katherine Heidle. Schizophrenic on Earth. Storm Mage on Refuge.

  Marcus Strom. Schizophrenic on Earth. Nature Mage on Refuge.

  Prologue

  Mangratha hated coming to the palace and having to be in the presence of the Emperor of Ellala’lysana. If not for his peculiar talents he would not have to enter the death smell presence of the Ellala Lord. He could stay in the quarters of his people, the Grogatha, in their slave hovels, and not walk the marbled halls of the beautiful people, as they patterned themselves. The slender, effeminate people that any of the squat and muscular Grogatha could break with their bare hands. But the Ellala were a people mighty in magic and the instruments of war, which was why his people were their slaves.

  The Ellala looked down their long noses at him, but tolerated his presence due to his mage’s robes. They knew how special one of his people, not known for their magical abilities, was to possess any magical power. He was the Grogatha of the decade, the one who concentrated all of the magical ability of his race into one individual. And he was a seer, able to peer into the future to see what others could not. One such as he was very valuable to the one known as Ellandra Mashara, whose concern for the future was well known within the Empire.

  So he walked the marbled steps to the palace, sitting on its bluff overlooking the convergence of the two rivers where nestled the Imperial Capital of A’atapona. The spring sun glinted off the flowing waters. Something screeched overhead, and Mangratha looked up to see a flight of dragons, the sun glaring from the helms of their riders. He shuddered for a moment as he thought of those beasts attacking his rebellious people, a vision his sight had shown him to come in the future. A vision in which the flames of the beasts killed the mighty warriors of his clan with ease. He could not tell when that would come to pass, only that it would, which made it so much more terrifying.

  The pair of guards at this, the back entrance of the palace, looked down on him with ice blue eyes, standing proud in their gleaming ceremonial armor. They crossed pikes for a moment to bar his way, then pulled them apart to open the path. They knew who he was. They knew who had called for him. And no matter how they felt for one of his race they would not jeopardize their souls to slow his progress. Instead they would assert their superiority in this one minor way.

  Mangratha walked through the entrance and into the palace proper, as always captivated by the work of art that was the building itself. The multicolored marbles, polished woods, and gleaming metal fittings were fashioned to present a beautiful whole to the observer. The many Ellala walking those halls in their splendid robes and jeweled necks and fingers simply added to the harmony. Mangratha allowed himself to take in the beauty before the realization of his present task stole the joy from his rough heart.

  His path led downward, toward the lair of the creature that called itself Emperor of this land. A creature that could masquerade as a dweller of sunlight, but one who preferred the dark dank depths of the subterranean basements. It was a path that Mangratha knew well, and wished that he did not. The magical glow globes dispelled the darkness of the corridors where he trod, but could not dispel the chill in the air, or the darkness in his heart.

  With ambivalent feelings he reached the door to the chamber. He wanted to get there quickly, so as not to anger the creature. And he wanted to get there not at all, so he would not have to face it. He had to face that he was here, so he raised his hand to strike the heavy metal portal.

  “Oh do come in, Mage,” came the sweet voice of the creature that dwelled within before the Grogatha could strike the door. The door opened of its own volition, and the dimly lit room beckoned.

  Mangratha steeled his heart and walked into the room, his eyes locked on the slender Ellala who sat in the throne like chair. The seer could feel the death emanating from the creature. Its own death, as well as the deaths of countless others that had gone into staving off its entrance into eternity. He knew as some others in the government knew the true nature of Emperor Ellandra Mashara. The man had lived most of the four thousand years allotted to his people, and he was not satisfied. So the man was pursuing the way of the Lich, to live eternally. And many had died to supply the life energy for that process, and the binding of the spirit to this world for many more thousands of years.

  Then his eyes locked on the large ball of crystal in front of the Empero
r. The horrible tool he had been called to read this day. It drew him with a hypnotic power such as that used by the Vampires of the realm, pulling him to it with a force he could not resist. He shuddered as he approached the large sphere, for he could see the shadows that moved within the globe of their own power. The only thing the spirits of the dead that powered the ball could do.

  “Tell me what you see, seer,” said the Emperor. “The ball will not succumb to my entreaties. Surely it will for you.”

  And if it does not I am dead, thought the seer, his eyes focusing on the ball. His mind questing to see and hear its secrets. He will have no more use for this one, and a great fear of what I know.

  Mangratha shuddered for a moment as the shadows refused to part. Would he have to lie to his liege? He had played that game with others, but was sure that the half lich would see through any such subterfuge. No, he had to tell the truth. And that meant he had to see through the shadows.

  Suddenly the shadows parted and he gasped. He could see the bright flashes, the sun like flares of monstrous weapons. He could see the mushroom shaped clouds of fire and smoke rise from the tortured surface of another world. He could hear the screams of those burned in those fires, and the screams of their souls as they moved before the infernos into an afterlife strange to him.

  “Tell me what you see, seer,” said the Emperor, leaving his seat and moving to look over the shoulder of the Grogatha, putting a boney hand on that shoulder. “Tell me what you see.”

  “I see death and destruction on a scale unimagined,” said the seer, his voice coming from far away as he entered the trance state. “I see weapons of great destructive power burning away a civilization of which we can scarcely dream.”