Refuge: Doppelganger Read online

  DOPPELGANGER

  A Novel of Refuge

  by

  Doug Dandridge

  Copyright 2012 by Doug Dandridge

  The voice sounded through his own dream. Wake up, his mind screamed at him. Wake up. Now. His body protested. His eyelids fought against him. Tired. He was so tired. But there was danger.

  His eyes opened as he came to full alertness. Something was bending down over him, something that smelled of death. He caught the face of the creature out of the corner of his eye. The long canines, thrust out of the open mouth, preparing to tear at the soft tissues of his throat.

  Kurt swung his arm up as he rolled over in his bedroll. The creature was strong, but the Immortal’s strength was an order of magnitude greater. Bone cracked as the big fist struck the creature’s head. It fell away from him hard, hitting the ground and rolling away. The Immortal pulled himself up from his bedroll and to his feet in an instant. His gaze swept the camp, assessing the situation.

  The old man lay dead under his blanket, a pair of Vampires crouched over him, their eyes glowing red in the light of the fire. Another Vampire hovered over one of the wolves, the loyal beast lying unmoving with blood matted on its fur. Three more were gliding into the camp from the woods. And the one he had struck was getting back to its feet, blood oozing from its broken head.

  Seven against one. Not too bad of odds, he thought, though the Vampires probably were pretty sure of their victory over a lone human. He looked over to where his sword was propped up against his armor, lying against a tree. Careless of him, in his fatigue and sense of relaxation, to leave his weapons out of reach. Two of the Vampires moved between him and the weapons, daring him to go through them. Their clothing was torn and dirty, and they smelled of death. They looked and felt like new undead, short term in the grave.

  Kurt moved like lightning, his limbs blurring as he sprinted at the two Vampires. They moved swiftly to block him, mouths open in hissing screams as they brought their clawed hands up to strike. To Kurt they were moving in slow motion, like drunken men at the end of a hard night. He knocked one away with his right forearm while swinging a left hook into the body of the other. Both Vampires fell away with grunts of pain. He was home free, he thought, just before a screaming, slashing Vampire landed on his back. The others closed in on cue, a well-coordinated pack of jackals intent on bringing down the stronger lion.

  His feet were knocked out from under him as the Vampires piled up on his back; the Immortal went down heavily to the ground. Claws and teeth slashed at him. Not causing permanent damage, he thought with his accelerated mind. But blood loss would eventually get to him, and in a weakened condition they might just kill him.

  A hard swung arm knocked one Vampire away, and the Emperor tried to roll over and get into a defensive posture. The Vampire was back on him in an instant. He could do no permanent damage to them as well, not unless he could get his hands on one for more than a few seconds. But no matter how he twisted and turned they stayed on him.

  [I come].

  The wolf ran flat out into the circle of the fire, launching itself into the air as its gums pulled back to reveal its sharp teeth. Its heavy weight, its speed of motion, carried a Vampire off of its master. The wolf savaged the throat of the creature as they struck the ground. The Vampire flailed with its claws, ripping deep wounds into the hide of the wolf, while the animal whipped its head back and forth, tearing big chunks of flesh from the creature’s body. Suddenly the Vampire went stiff as the wolf threw its final weapon into the attack. The psionic blast took the Vampire by surprise, and the wolf continued to savage its breast and neck.

  Kurt pushed with all of his strength, going into overdrive, but the vermin stuck to him like tics. He tried to warn the wolf as three more Vampires appeared out of the night. Too late

  Dedication

  This Book is dedicated to all of those who believed in me when I couldn’t believe in myself. Thank you to all my brothers and sisters in both Fellowships for having faith in me.

  Contact me at [email protected]

  Follow my projects at http://dougdandridge.net

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  Copyright © 2012 Doug Dandridge

  All rights reserved.

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

  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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  Chapter One

  War. I have seen war on two worlds, in many manifestations. Wars of Conquest. Wars of Liberation. Wars of Punishment. Wars of Extermination. I have fought in many of these wars, fought for causes good and evil. I have led good men to their end. And in that time I have learned one thing. All war is evil, as it leads to the wholesale death of those who only wish peace. When will I lead the crusade against the Gods of Death? I say that it serves the Gods of Death to war on them, for Death is always the final victor in war.

  Speech by the Emperor Kurt von Mannerheim before the Imperial Parliament.

  Yanonia, the 22nd of Oceanus, the Year 2123 After Arrival.

  Struggling with every thought to stop her forward motion, the beautiful Elfin woman shuffled toward the lift. Hands helped her along, though the possessing spirit that now inhabited her body did not need the assistance. It controlled her as a puppet master does its charge, only her iron will adding some resistance to her legs. But not enough, she screamed silently in the corner of her mind that had been left to her.

  A bullet whined off the stonework of the hall, as the muted phut of a steam pistol sounded behind her, returning fire.

  “Stop shooting,” cried a voice she recognized as one of her security detail. “You’ll hit the Empress.”

  Gwenara Ellysium von Mannerheim, Empress of the Empire of Free Nations, now felt doubly violated. Violated that in her person she was providing a shield to this lawless gang, her own subjects afraid to use the force needed to stop them. And more violated than she had thought possible, the riding beast of another will. A will that possessed her body and soul, permeating every centimeter of her, sharing her hopes and dreams and memories.

  The lift tubes opened ahead, their translucent surfaces shimmering with magical energy, the oval of their doorways providing a view into the long drop. One of the terrorists stepped into the first tube, mumbled some words, and shot upward in the lift field. Another, then another followed. A fourth entered a nearby tube and fell downwards
.

  Then it was her turn, as a captor pushed through the narrow opening of the downshaft with her. The tube opened into a rounded shaft that could hold a dozen people. Even though her possessor would not let her move her eyes enough to see the long shaft below her, she knew it fell almost seven hundred meters straight down.

  “Basement” muttered the Elf that held her captive. The field released beneath them and they fell at half the acceleration of the planet’s gravity. A little over two minutes to the bottom. The sounds of fighting rose above them, the other terrorists buying time to prevent pursuit.

  “How is she?” asked the Elfin leader.

  “She is fine,” answered the guttural voice from Gwenara’s lips. “No damage to mind or body.”

  “Good,” replied the terrorist. “We need her whole and sane.”

  “Then I must be out of her in ten minutes,” she heard herself reply again.

  “Plenty of time,” said the Elf. “Plenty of time.”

  Plenty of time for what, she thought, even as she withdrew her mind back into the protected corner that even the possessor could not access, behind the powerful psionic shield she had erected. Shouts still echoed down the tube, her men fighting toward the lift. Many of her men had already died, among them her favorites. Was there anything I could have done to prevent what happened? The events before her capture played themselves out in her eidetic memory, her guilt ridden mind searching for any way that she might have influenced past events.

  * * *

  The lift tube slowed her ascent as she approached the observation deck of the newest of the Elfin Towers. Her upward motion stopped as the gentle force of the tube pushed her out onto the floor of the deck. Catching her breath at the beauty of the expanse of glass and steel to her front, she walked forward flanked by the plainclothes guards of the Imperial Secret Service. Her sitters, as she thought of them.

  A trio of the uniformed Imperial Guards waited to her front, along with a pair of her accompanying mages, the Imperial Warpriest Kellium Zoriski alongside of the younger Communications Mage. The Elfin Empress’ sharp ears picked up the sounds of the rest of her detachment stepping out of the numerous tubes. They fanned out through the floor, reinforcing those who had already secured any entrance to the deck.

  The Dwarven Warpriest, Korgan Grimmbarg, ran up as fast as his short legs would carry him, bowed to the Empress, and reported to the head of the security detail.

  “Nothing is amiss, my Lord,” said the Dwarf to the Dark Elf.

  “Very good,” said Major Thallius.

  Not that anything is likely to happen here in the heart of Ataponia, thought the Empress, walking toward the shimmering glass wall that let out onto the city, barely noticing the beautiful foliage that the Elfin builders had placed in profusion.

  I have seen this many times before, she thought as she looked out at the city below. But the sight of Ataponia, the greatest city of the Empire and the home of over seven million citizens, always brought a rush of excitement. Greenery there was in abundance, as the other races emulated the environmental concerns of the Elves who had originally founded this city. Wide avenues traversed by throngs of people, afoot and in carriages. Parks set among the high buildings and apartments, a place for people to gather and play.

  A huge airship to her left caught her gaze, drifting lazily across the sky, smoke rising from its stacks. Smaller airships also crowded over the city, personal craft, taxis and search/rescue vessels. A dragon squadron, silvers, lazily flew a wedge formation at altitude.

  Next her eyes wandered to the Seine, crowded with river craft of all types, while people the size of mites crossed the many bridges, and a long train passed over the river from the dockyards. The enormous skyscrapers of the downtown district were only overshadowed by the backdrop of the mountains under which the underground dwellers built their neighborhoods. Sunlight reflected from various points of those mountains, the solar storage facilities providing much of the magical power of the city.

  Moving her field of vision, she smiled as she looked over the center of the city, at the Imperial Arch of Victory, the many Cabinet buildings, and the huge palace complex beyond. The glow to her right caught her attention, and she swung her gaze toward the Cathedral Complex of the Life Gods. The glow of power shone bright on the central spire of the Basilica of Arathonia, while the domes of the eleven lesser cathedrals glowed with a pure white light of their own. The power of the Gods harnessed for the people’s use.

  “Breathtaking, is it not, your Highness?” said the architect, another Ellala Elf, who had moved silently beside her.

  “The view is fine,” she said in her contralto voice, brushing her long golden hair behind her ears and turning her solid blue eyes towards the man, “as is the building providing the view.”

  Gwenara leaned out and looked down at the last statement, admiring the garden like square from which the building rose. Like all the Elfin towers of the Point Neighborhood, this building held many levels of greenery. Only a nation that allowed the talents of its many people to mingle could accomplish such a feat of engineering and architecture. Only the combination of Elfin architecture, Dwarven materials science and human engineering would make such a tower possible.

  Feeling the presence of another to her left, she turned to find Matthew, the youngest of her uniformed bodyguards, standing beside her, trying to keep his attention on the crowd behind her instead of the gorgeous vista ahead. The boy was her favorite among the guards, so curious and inquisitive, not appearing experienced enough to walk with the elite of the Empire. Until one looked at the Golden Wolf adorning his helmet, the sign of a warrior of extreme bravery.

  “Beautiful, is it not, Matthew?” she asked the youngster.

  “Yes, my lady,” he said, looking directly into her solid blue eyes with a smile on his face.

  Gwenara wondered whether the boy was remarking on the scenery or on her. High Elven, or Ellala, culture allowed the taking of lovers, even when married, and she was curious to experience such a young human. But her husband, though an Immortal, had still been raised to believe that monogamy was the true way of marriage, and she loved and respected him enough to respect his viewpoint.

  “The people are waiting, your Highness,” said the voice of Major Thallius.

  For yet another of these interminable speeches, she thought. But an Empress had political duties to fulfill, no matter how they bored her. She turned and waved at the now crowded observation deck, throngs of people of all races here to cover the dedication of the newest of Ataponia’s skyscrapers.

  Then it hit her, a feeling growing in the back of her mind, like that she felt when a dream of import tugged at her during the night. Something was wrong here. Her eyes scanned the crowd, locking for a moment on the eyes of a tall Elf near the rear. Dark eyes stared back, pupils opened to maximum, even in the brightly lit observation deck. Light red hair. Strawberry blond her husband’s people called it. Rare in the Empire, though not unheard of.

  But very common in Tarakesh. There was a feeling emanating from him as well. Something was wrong, and that man had something to do with it. Her guard seemed unaware of anything amiss, her psionic and her warpriest looking calm and relaxed as they scanned the crowd.

  “Major Thallius,” she said, reaching to touch his shoulder. The strange Elf’s eyes widened in alarm as he hurriedly pulled a red handkerchief and blew his nose. Then all hell broke loose, and she realized that she had set off the trap by her very actions. Hidden weapons were drawn by many in the crowd. It seemed to happen in slow motion, as if she were trapped in a spell, and everyone else did not realize what was going on.

  Gwenara saw the squat curved shape of a steam pistol rising up in her direction, held in the hands of the Elf with the strawberry blond hair. An assassination was her first thought, as she began to call the words of protection to her lips. The gun spurted a cloud of steam. People in the crowd screamed in panic and looked for somewhere to run. The pellet whizzed by, shattering the glass
of the observation wall, ripping a large hole in it. The winds rose through the opening, snatching at her clothing and threatening to pull her out into the abyss of the sky.

  “My Lady,” screamed Matthew, reaching to interpose his shield between her and her assassin.

  A fireball burst, striking a quartet of Secret Service Agents, turning men into screaming torches who ran this way and that. The warpriest tried to extinguish the flames, before a bolt of crackling electricity ended his efforts with a stench of burning flesh. Another bolt of destruction hit, and more steam pistols spoke. Then, as the Archmage Kellium Zoriski waved his hands, threatening all enemies with mighty magic, a field of magic negation sprung into being, making even the mighty archmage’s powers of assault useless.

  Gwenara felt her own magical energies drain away as if a plug had been pulled. A negator, was her thought, one of those rare humans who could short circuit all magic within range of their abilities. The magic would not work until he allowed it to work. Her eyes searched through the crowd, trying to locate the man, before her mind was occupied by other matters.

  The High Elf she had first noticed fired his second shot, the pellet striking Matthew in the side of his helmet and knocking him off of his feet. The helmet resisted the penetration of the shot as well made armor should, its inner padding absorbing the shock as the tough alloy sprung back. But the impact unbalanced him, and the young man slid on broken glass through the opening to outside, his hands grasping for any purchase before he fell from the man-made cliff.

  Gwenara reacted immediately, diving for the floor as her hands reached and grasped her guard’s wrists, feeling herself being pulled from the room as well as she tried to dig the toes of her high boots into the polished surface. Wide eyes stared into hers, as the youth fought down his terrible fear with thoughts of duty.