In Harmony We Trust - Ryan Matthew Harker (most popular novels of all time txt) 📗

at the unintelligible curses that came from the assassin’s direction and Candlelite insisted that they abandon her to the undead.
“Yeah, and good riddance!” Absinthe added.
But if it was unavoidable then Jeshux would not allow it and it only took twenty seconds or so before Sefu saw the light.
“All right Jeshux, I’ll surrender!” Sefu cried. The inhuman beings would soon be right on top of her. “But I’ll not be bound and gagged while threatened by those things.”
“I don’t think I can allow that!” Jeshux replied. By now the zombies had grown to more than a hundred and more were joining their ranks.
“Damnit commander, I can help you!” Sefu pleaded.
“No doubt by putting a knife in my back and slitting the throats of my companions, eh assassin?”
“You have my word! None of you people will come to harm by my hand!” Sefu sounded on the verge of tears. Her terror was driving her to emotion that she had not felt in years. “And afterward you can bind me again,” she added.
“You people,” Absinthe said sarcastically.
“She’s telling the truth,” Candlelite told Jeshux when the soldier looked to him. “But do you think we can trust her?”
“Only about as far as I can throw her,” Jeshux told him. “All right Sefu! I suggest you start running pretty damned quick. We’ll cover you.”
The assassin wasted no time in breaking her cover. She fired a few rounds at the nearest of the creatures and sprinted to the stairs. A salvo of gunfire blazed over her head. The horde behind her took up an inhuman cry of rage and frustration and moved even quicker to bring her down.
“Hurry up Sefu!” Jeshux ordered as she hit the bottom step.
“Yeah, get your ass in gear!” Candlelite added.
The undead moved twice as fast and were right behind her. Sefu could hear them hot on her heels and did not dare to look back as she took the stairs two at a time.
“Woo hoo!” Max cried. “These bastards ain’t your gran’ daddy’s undead!” Cackling he strafed his rifle from left to right, the weapon looking far too large for his spindly arm to even hold level.
Sefu reached the landing bare steps ahead of the advancing army and joined Jeshux and the others as they fell back through the front doors of the guild hall. They managed to shut the doors just as the first zombie reached them, smashing in its teeth and breaking its nose. Even through the thickness of the doors they could make out the creatures cries of frustration at being denied its prey.


The palace and, surprisingly enough, a good portion of the city still stood although the countryside for most of five hundred miles on all sides had been transformed into a barren wasteland, devoid of any distinctive features and reduced to nothing but naked soil. Houses, roads, trees, even low hills had been completely disintegrated in the backwash of the arcane energy bomb’s detonation. Not a living thing survived the massive explosion and most inanimate objects over the size of a bowling ball ceased to exist. The awesome power that Harmony had harnessed in his ultimate weapon failed to discriminate.
The sorcerer however was not impressed. Having been witness to the entire beautiful symphony of mayhem through a large and powerful pair of magnifiers equipped with filters to screen out the blinding glare, he had seen immediately that the palace still stood and was infuriated at the audacity Zakeriah displayed in not succumbing to his onslaught.
Harmony put the magnifiers down on a table at his side before the intense light had begun to subside and enraged, the sorcerer ordered his army into a forward march. He was determined to press his assault as quickly as possible so as not to allow his enemy any chance to recover.
As night fell to the light of a waxing moon rank after rank of sick and twisted creatures, and humans, poured down the side of the mountains to the freshly scoured, recently created flatland below.


The city had survived but McAriicoys heart had been shattered.
Sitting in the small cell provided by the city barracks, the room that just the day before had been so cozy, the military man was lost in a sea of grief so deep that it easily threatened to drown him. He ignored all summons, indeed the door was locked and despite the pounding and the raised voices as far as he was concerned the world was as quiet as the grave. In fact he wished it was the grave, his grave.
Instead though the grave belonged to a hero, a petite little blonde hero, a hero chock full of grit and with enough attitude to take on the world, a person would have thought she would win too. She almost had. Just three more seconds and Pentooli would still be alive.
McAriicoys put his head in his hands, tears squeezing from his eyes, as he rocked back and forth on the thin mattress of the bunk.
Someone came to the door again, pounding, demanding to be let in, pleading to be let in, McAriicoys heard none of it and eventually they went away. The only things that intruded upon his world now were sweet smiles, musical laughter, and a shared cup of coffee. Little things of the last twenty-four hours flitted through his weary brain and memories of the not so recent past, harsh demeanor, quick wit, a stinging tongue, icy stares but confidence too, and confidence was what this coldness had always conveyed to him. Where others had always seen aloofness and anti-social tendencies McAriicoys had always witnessed passion and self-confidence, a drive towards success that was not to be distracted by such petty sentimentalities as friendship or, heaven forbid it, love.
But for some reason this fiery woman had been attracted to him, had allowed him through some formerly secret chink in her impenetrable armor to the soft, lovable and fiercely tender person inside. Why? WHY?
McAriicoys let out a heart wrenching sob and suddenly climbed to his feet. He got dressed quickly, grabbing his armor and weapons he strapped everything in place with the mechanical precision of a soldier with not decades but centuries of practice.
Pentooli had died a hero. She had not died in vain. If it had not been for her the city would have been completely destroyed and countless more lives would have been lost. The wizards and techs had had trouble generating enough power to boost the shield much further than the palace; Pentooli came up with a solution. Unfortunately it was entirely in her head and she had to oversee its implementation personally. So she went out along the city wall to reprogram a connecting rod in the shield perimeter. Everyone was tense with expectation, they could sense the inevitable. The shield had shimmered into existence and the city raised a cheer.
Three seconds later the arcane energy bomb detonated.
Three seconds! McAriicoys slammed his sword home in its scabbard.
Three seconds more and Pentooli would have been within the protective perimeter of the shield.
McAriicoys swallowed his grief down into a hard ball in the pit of his stomach. A grim determination replaced the look of anguish that he had been wearing for the past fifteen hours. Pentooli may not have died in vain but her death would still be avenged. Harmony would be made to pay.
McAriicoys had no need to straighten the barracks room as his grief had not allowed him the luxury of either food or rest. Placing his beret on his head he gave his surroundings a cursory once over, noted he had forgot nothing, and then with one last lingering look at the chair that Pen had sat in while she had sipped her coffee he turned, unlocked the door and strode from the room.
The captain of the guard was kept busy running around like a chicken with its head cut off since the detonation of the arcane energy bomb but he had left an aid in his place outside McAriicoys door to wait for the mercenary to emerge.
“Sir!” the young man saluted, obviously impressed by the mercs battle ready attire.
“At ease,” McAriicoys growled. “What’s your name son?”
“Private Pleanar,” Pleanar failed to relax.
“This isn’t boot camp private. I said at ease!”
Private Pleanar visibly tried but he was wound pretty tight. The young man was clearly in awe of the veteran soldier and being pretty raw, was uncertain about how he should conduct himself in the presence of such a celebrity.
McAriicoys sighed at the youth’s enthusiasm. “All right Pleanar, this is what I want you to do.”
“Yes, sir!” the private came fully to attention.
McAriicoys sighed again. “Two things,” he said. “Number one, send word to the King, tell him I’m on my way to the palace and I need an audience with him. Number two, get my men together and tell them to meet me in the palace courtyard within the hour. Got that?”
“Yes sir!” Pleanar saluted smartly and then failed to move.
“I mean now Pleanar!” McAriicoys barked.
Private Pleanar grinned goofily from ear to ear before he ran off, stumbling as he gained momentum.
Kids! McAriicoys thought. But he felt a lot better ordering the youngling off and a familiar calm settled in as he followed the retreating back of the young guardsman down the hall. It was good to have a plan, to be in charge again and he allowed himself a grim smile.
Once out in the open air McAriicoys looked towards the blue sky and marveled at the opaque barrier that shimmered like a mirage over the capital, Pentooli’s legacy. He pushed the thought aside not wanting to be overcome by the despair he had so recently conquered.
He contemplated finding a horse but after observing the human congestion in the streets he decided against it, figuring that he would make better time to the palace on foot. The right decision as the traffic of people got worse the closer he got.
Upon reaching the palace gates McAriicoys was pleased to note that the young private had done well. A member of the royal guard was waiting and informed him that the King would see him and also that his men were already starting to arrive.
As he crossed the courtyard McAriicoys returned the salutes that were directed towards him by the handful of mercenaries already assembled.

King Zakeriah sat in the great assembly hall on his throne looking weary in his resplendent robes and silks. He had taken off his crown and it sat on his lap while he rubbed his temples with both hands. Queen Mega’N sat beside him, perfectly composed, and she rose smoothly upon noticing McAriicoys arrival.
“Mr. McAriicoys,” the Queen purred. “Good of you to join us.”
Missing was the Queen’s usual sarcasm. She was actually pleased to see the grizzled warrior and the sideways look she cast in the King’s direction told him why. The King looked especially haggard around the eyes when he looked up from his lap.
The Queen might be a vicious woman with a reputation for having a wicked tongue, McAriicoys thought. But she truly loves Zakeriah. Although from the look in her eyes McAriicoys surmised that the Queen was nearly as weary as the King.
“McAriicoys,” Zakeriah exclaimed. “I am glad to see you!” He stood and clamped his crown back on his head.
McAriicoys approached the throne and kneeled. He looked up at the King and said, “We need to talk.”

Within a half an hour McAriicoys was back in the courtyard where the mercenaries waited idly after receiving his summons. He approached the many clusters of mercenaries that milled around and talked amongst themselves.
The mercenaries noticed McAriicoys and assembled quickly to stand tall and proud, rank after