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

want to be a part of this,” there was steel in her voice. “Then you must not want any part of me.” And with that said she stood and fled the cave.
“Absinthe!” Candlelite called and got up to go after her. “Absinthe!”
He chased his lover as she fled from the cave and finally caught up with her after about a hundred yards, his longer legs able to propel him quicker through the deep snow than her own.

Grabbing her by the shoulders Candlelite spun her around to face him
.“Abbie!” he pleaded as she tried to break free. “Abbie!”
Once out of the crude igloo Absinthe’s tears had flowed freely and now her grimy face was streaked with their frozen tracks.
“Abbie,” Candlelite said a third time and pulled her close, hugging her to him. “Absinthe, please don’t. I love you.”
Finally she stopped struggling and with a sob collapsed into his strong arms.
“You’re not the only one who’s a part of this,” she said between breaths. “You’re not doing this alone.”
“I know,” he said hugging her tightly. “I know.”
Then something struck him as funny. He looked around and suddenly realized what it was.
“Hey! It stopped snowing,” he exclaimed. “And there’s no wind!”
Absinthe raised her head from where it lay on his shoulder. “You’re right,” she said. “But it’s still cold.”
Candlelite turned and yelled over his shoulder, “Hey everyone, it stopped snowing! Come out here, the sun’s coming out!”
The rest of the people came out of the snow cave, shielding their eyes from the dazzling sun and marveled at the sudden change in their fortunes.
“Well I’ll be damned!” Vohrmint declared.
“Man, that sucker’s bright,” Max said looking towards the sky.
Jeshux and McAriicoys exchanged puzzled looks.
“I don’t like this,” McAriicoys said. “Harmony had us on the ropes. Why let up now?”
“You’re right,” Jeshux agreed.
“Commander General Jeshux!” a high voice shouted from behind them.
Everyone spun toward the sound of the voice, the four men and Sefu shouldering their rifles while Candlelite and Absinthe, having left theirs in the cave, stood helpless.
On the hill above their cave stood a tall, stately woman dressed in flowing purple robes with luminescent green trim. Her hair was dirty dishwater blonde streaked with pure white. The woman’s aura radiated age but her body was that of a woman in her twenties. Only her eyes confirmed the centuries her spirit carried. Around her stood hundreds of men and women who wore green trimmed brown robes and swayed gently back and forth as if a soft breeze blew around them or as if they were caught in an underwater tidal pull, sea amoebas rooted to an ocean bed. All of them wore the same blank look on their slack faces.
“Florencii!” Jeshux hissed.
“Good day, Jeshux,” the Archmagi smiled warmly.
“It was.”
“Oh, come now. Is that any way to greet an old friend?”
“All of my friends are standing over here,” the mercenary told her.
“I see,” said Florencii with a sigh. “Very well then, if you all will please drop your weapons and come with me.”
“And if we don’t,” Jeshux asked.
The Archmagi raised one of her hands and all of the zombies took a step forward.
“You wouldn’t,” Jeshux challenged. “I know you.”
Two of the creatures broke ranks and rushed Vohrmint. The brave soldier stood his ground for as long as he could and at the last moment sighted his rifle to dispatch one of the zombies through the head. The caricature of a man dropped at his feet while the other one was stopped just as efficiently by McAriicoys.
“Thanks,” Vohrmint wiped a cold sweat off of his brow and McAriicoys nodded.
Jeshux stared hard into the Archmagi’s eyes and grimaced. “Alright, drop ‘em,” he said throwing his rifle down with disgust.
The other three men followed suit and Absinthe and Candlelite walked over to join their friends.
“Ah, and these must be the Chosen Ones,” Florencii observed as if the preceding incident had not occurred. “I am the Archmagi Florencii Splendora Ambrosia, how do you do?”
Absinthe and Candlelite did not say anything but responded with stony looks.
“Ah,” the Archmagi sighed. “It doesn’t have to be like this, really, we can all still be friends.”
“No Florencii, we can’t,” Jeshux spoke what was on all of their minds. “You’ve made your choice as to who your friends are and you’ve known for a long time that we’re opposed to everything those friends stand for.”
“Yes, I suppose I have,” Florencii admitted. “But my actions are the price I must pay for the powers I wield.”
“You have no power Florencii,” Jeshux said in amazement. “Can’t you see that? You’ve only an illusion of power and that was given to you by Harmony!” The mercenary spat the sorcerer’s name from his mouth like it was a foul poison. “You’re his puppet, nothing more.”
The Archmagi’s eyes flashed, reflecting Jeshux anger and she motioned her servants forward. The rifles were picked up off of the ground and the packs were collected from within the cave. A ring of the undead encircled the mercenaries and their charges.
“Now if you all will be so kind as to come with me,” Florencii said congenially and turned away. “We have an appointment to keep and I’m afraid we’re already late.”


Blasts from the arcane energy canon came steadily now. Every five to ten minutes buildings throughout AnEerth’s capital shook violently and debris fell in an almost constant shower to rain down on residents and citizens everywhere.
King Zakeriah was frantic with worry, worry for his people, worry for his city, and worry for his entire planet. Despair was knocking at the door and all he could do was curse helplessly with every impact of the Dark Sorcerer’s canon.
Nefarious entered the throne room and approached the dais. He flinched under the king’s glare but kept his stride from faltering. He reached the foot of the dais and lifted his eyes to his lord’s as he bowed.
“Your majesty,” Nefarious ventured.
“What is it?” Zakeriah asked haughtily.
“My Lord, I’m afraid I’ve got bad news,” Nefarious began hesitantly.
“Of course you do,” the king grumped. “Spit it out already.”
“My Lord, the shields are failing rapidly.”
Zakeriah groaned and Nefarious continued, “The mages and sorcerers are doing everything they can to strengthen them but at the present rate of bombardment the technicians are only giving them six more hours.”
“Six hours,” the king echoed.
“Six hours, Sire.”
“I heard you the first time.”
Something in the king’s voice made Nefarious take a quick step back. “I’m sorry your highness,” he apologized.
“No matter,” Zakeriah said softly. Suddenly a calming wave washed over his entire body. “Could you please inform my wife that I would like to speak with her?”
“Of course, Sire,” Nefarious was somewhat taken aback by the king’s sudden change in demeanor. “Is there anything else you need, your highness?”
“A glass of water maybe,” Zakeriah suggested. His mind had locked into a course of action that he knew there would be no coming back from.
“Yes Sire. I’ll have it brought in immediately.”
“Thank you Nefarious.”
The magician bowed deeply, turned and hastily left the throne room. There had been something in the king’s eyes that had left him feeling slightly disturbed, something a little mad maybe.


Lord Quazetkic was surprised at how few personnel Harmony had left behind to guard his ultimate weapon. Besides the three operators who ran the thing there were only a few handfuls of goblins, about a dozen men, and a single pack of werewolves. It seemed that everyone else had followed the sorcerer to the capital.
“We’r’n luck, boyo,” Havershom whispered from his right side.
The two of them, along with Lord Turinoc, had left their men with the Lord Keriee and hiked fifteen miles to spy out their enemy’s mountain peak encampment.
Security was lax. There were not any perimeter guards, no sentries of any kind. The goblins sat around their cook fires bickering amongst themselves; the men were busy helping the canon’s operators maintain the various aspects of running the massive weapon, and the werewolves were all huddled together off on the edge of the camp fast asleep.
“This ought to be easy enough,” Turinoc rumbled softly. “Harmony may have strength in numbers but he’s got no discipline.”
“Shh,” Quazetkic peered intensely around the camp. “Something is not right here. I cannot quite put my finger on it but this cannot be right.”
“Wha’ is it, Quazie?” Havershom elbowed him. “Ya canna b’lieve a good thing win ya see it?”
“Shut your mouth Havershom!” Quazetkic spoke quietly but his tone was fierce and the other man went mute.
“What is it Quazetkic?” Turinoc asked from his left side.
“I am not sure. Give me a minute.”
The lord ran everything through his head. He noted the positions of all of the people in the encampment, noting every movement and activity they participated in. He looked to the sleeping werewolves. The hulking animals were not stirring except for the rhythmic rise and fall of their great chests. The three men had anticipated their presence and had made their way from downwind so as not to alert the beasts to their arrival. So far the wind had not changed.
What is going on here? Quazetkic thought. He found it hard to believe that the most ruthless villain on two planets would command so little respect that as soon as his back was turned all of his men would turn lackadaisical.
“Come on,” he whispered. “Let us leave here.”
“Aye, let’s go rally th’ troops,” Havershom said and backed slowly into the brush.
During the hike back to where they had left Keriee and their men, Quazetkic pondered the subliminal incongruities of Harmony’s gun camp but no matter how he tried he could not figure out what was wrong. Finally he gave up. He must have been wrong and everything was exactly as it appeared to be.
Once the three men rejoined their comrades they filled Lord Keriee in on the layout of the enemy’s camp and the number of personnel guarding the canon. Quazetkic kept silent about his concern and did not relay his doubts about how easy the liberation of the canon would be.
“Th’ dogs were all fas’ asleep,” Havershom was telling Keriee. “They won’ stanna chance.”
Keriee nodded silently and turned to follow Quazetkic as he walked away.
Keriee caught up to him and asked, “What’s wrong?”
Quazetkic stopped at the other man’s voice, turned and said, “I do not know.” He sighed. “Something though, something did not feel right.”
“The lack of discipline?”
“That was part of it, yes,” Quazetkic admitted.
Keriee stroked his mustache, “And the other part?”
“I do not know,” Quazetkic repeated. “I have been mulling it over all the way here but it keeps eluding me.”
“And you still want to do this?” the older man asked with compassion in his eyes.
“Do we have a choice?”
“I suppose we don’t,” Keriee answered. He clapped Quazetkic on the shoulder. “I’ll go get everyone ready.”
“I will be there shortly. I have to think about this a bit more.”
“Fine,” Keriee said and turned to walk back to the rest of the men.
“Keriee,” Quazetkic said.
“Yes?” the lord turned back.
“Try and damp Havershom’s fire a little. If I have to put up with his high spirits for much longer I am going to feed him to those werewolves”
Keriee smiled. “I think I may have to help you.” And then he walked off.
Quazetkic managed a chuckle before he became serious again. Keriee may not say much but as the most level headed of the other three lords he was definitely the one he most trusted not to let the excitement of the upcoming campaign