The Lamplighter (Lamplighter Saga Book 0) Read online

  The Lamplighter

  By

  C. Brennan Knight

  The Lamplighter

  ©2017 Caje Brennan Knight

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Cover Art by ChrisCold

  Cover Design by Brian Fisher

  Table　of　Contents

  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

  Epilogue

  Chapter　1

  The dream never changed, no matter how many times Pearl had dreamt it. It always began with Pearl laying on her back, prickled by the green, frail blades of fake grass beneath her. She would stare at the large, blue moon dominating the black, star-speckled sky. Music, soothing and melancholy, drifted through the air, familiar beyond the repetition of the dream, but its strange lyrics spoiled any recollection.

  Sitting up, she found herself behind the large, square house where she always started the dream. Made of dark stone, the building had no doors, and rusted metal bars closed off each of its windows. But Pearl didn’t care about what laid within this house. She wanted to find the music’s source and followed it to the front of the house. A strange, empty village awaited her, each house similar in structure, but built of different materials. Paths of gray stone rooted the houses to a road as black as the sky above.

  By this point in the dream, Pearl often found she had some lucid control of her actions, a sign of the dream’s impending end. She had mentally prepared for this as best she could, and turned to the house sitting to her left. Made of wood and painted in her favorite shade of blue, the building reminded Pearl of her own home, something she had only just noticed. She sprinted to the door, the music growing louder as she reached for the door knob. She only ever made it this far, so she hesitated to touch the door, for fear of ending the dream too soon.

  But she reached out again, her hand grasping the door knob and twisting. With a small shove, the door swung open without a sound and the music escaped from the house. Pearl gathered herself, unsure if she should continue into these uncharted territories, and took a step inside. The music came from a room to her left, and she peeked in to find a slender figure standing in the middle of the room, looking away from her. Never in this dream had she encountered another soul, and she recognized it as the intrusion it was. This person wasn’t supposed to be here. A choking dread washed over her and seized her voice away.

  As if they had sensed her, the person stood up straight, their head touching the ceiling then warping it to make more room for their abnormal height. She prayed to wake up before the person saw her, closing her eyes tight and then opening them again, hoping to find herself back in her room. Yet she remained in the dream, and the slender figure turned towards her like the hands on a watched clock. In her body’s only attempt to escape, Pearl fell against the wall behind her and slid down to the floor. The slender person gazed upon her in horrid silence, their face white and blank like untouched parchment. Then came the screaming. Not from the person, but within Pearl’s head, shattering her thoughts like glass and drowning out the music.

  Pearl awoke screaming and shot up in her bed, only to collapse again under the ache of injuries and bruises a few days old. The collective pain kept her on her back. She tried to rub the sleep from her eyes, but found her arms stiff, heavy, and almost useless.

  “Damn it.” She had gotten farther in her dream than ever before, but still not far enough. If only that…something..? Her eyes creaked open like the doors of an ancient tomb, slow and encumbered. She had seen something in her dream, but couldn’t remember it anymore. The more she tried to remember it, the more she forgot it, until... What was she thinking about? “So close. Maybe next time.”

  She propped herself up, a challenge with her arms’ lack of strength, but after a few attempts, she got onto her elbows. Looking around, she discovered she wasn’t in her room, but instead in a room carved into brown stone. Straw littered the center of the room, underneath the lone, hanging lantern, which illuminated all but the corners of the room. The cot Pearl laid upon, one of three in the room, felt like a stone slab, its fabric pulled so taut. The wall opposite Pearl bore the only exit, a plank door on iron hinges.

  She struggled to get up, her whole body stiff and weak. Someone had dressed her in a new white shirt and pair of black pants meant for a small man. Not that Pearl minded. She preferred form fitting pants to the cumbersome frivolity of dresses. Beside her cot, a dark blue jacket and a black traveling cloak laid on top of a pair of black shoes. Underneath her shirt, bandages wrapped her entire body, the thickest of which covered her back. The wounds beneath sent jolts of pain through Pearl as she twisted to inspect her body. Where was she and what had happened that left her so wounded?

  She thought back. Her fifteenth birthday. The ceremony. Crowley pulling her aside. Mrs. Graham…

  The door swung open from the outside and a large man squeezed into the room, his muscles just fitting through the door frame. A sword hung sheathed at his side, and the air cooled in his presence. Pearl grimaced as a shiver traveled her body, stirring pain from every injury. He looked right at Pearl and then a smile cracked across his stoic face.

  “Pearl.” The man spoke with her father’s voice and shared his hair that had more salt than pepper, but looked twice as big as him. Then he seemed to deflate, his body shrinking in all dimensions, until meek, soft spoken George Chaucer remained. “Pearl, you’re awake.”

  “Father?” Pearl asked, unsure and confused. A moment ago, this man towered over her, and now he stood barely an inch taller than her. In the past, her father often appeared to grow taller whenever anyone threatened Pearl, but she had thought it a show of authority and intimidation, rather than an actual transformation. “Father, what’s happening? Where am I?”

  He hugged her, tight at first, but eased up when Pearl yipped in pain. He held her close without speaking, and Pearl embraced him back, the warmth soothing her body and mind. A smile crept onto her face, and a tear leaked from her eye. “I don’t know why, but I’m so happy to see you. It’s like when you would hold me after a bad dream.”

  “I’m happy to see you too, Pearl. My pleasant Pearl.” He broke the embrace to look over her body. “How are you feeling? Are you bleeding anywhere?”

  “No. No blood,” Pearl informed him, lifting her shirt enough to show her white bandages. “But my whole body hurts. What happened to me?”

  “What was the last thing you remember?”

  “The ceremony. The gifting of the swords. I had just become a Lamplighter, then Crowley pulled me aside to speak to me. Something to do with Mrs. Graham…did something happen to her?”

  Her father frowned, his eyes drifting away from Pearl as he processed her words. “T
he ceremony was four days ago. You’ve been asleep for past three, and much has transpired in that time.” He motioned to the door. “Come. I’ll explain on the way.”

  Pearl followed her father into a hallway carved out of rock and earth, with wooden planks and beams supporting the ceiling and walls. Braziers made of dark metal hung on the earthen parts of the walls, and illuminated the hall with a soft, warm glow, though something unsettling undermined the warmth, hidden in the shadows beyond the light’s edge. The hall stretched to the left and the right outside the room. Her father went left and then took the first right, with Pearl close behind him. He knew his way through these halls, despite the lack of any markings.

  Pearl paid attention to each turn, creating a map in her head back to the room they started from, but soon found herself lost. Nondescript wooden doors, their frames cut into the earth, led to mysterious rooms beyond. Pearl peeked through those she found ajar, but found most rooms empty, filled with hungering darkness that devoured the light from the hallway. One room had a fire burning in the corner, the light from which shined on the weapons hanging from the walls. Swords, knives, and axes shimmered and flickered in and out of the shadows.

  “Father, where are we?”

  “Three days ago, you and two other newly anointed Lamplighters escorted Mrs. Graham into the woods while she picked berries. Ordinarily, we wouldn’t have sent an escort for something so simple, but with the disappearances of late, Father Alexander and the other leaders didn’t want anyone leaving the village alone. When you didn’t return after Nightfall, we sent out a search party.” An urgency and gravitas Pearl didn’t know he possessed filled his voice. “You alone were found.”

  A mumbling of human voices echoed down the hall towards them, the faint sound filling the silent hallways like the rumbling of thunder. Her father continued, “I had brought you home to allow you to rest, but the town began to fall apart. Once Frederick threatened to burn our house down just to get to you, I moved you here.”

  Frederick Crowley, the lesser of the two Crowley brothers. So much so, no one acknowledged Frederick’s last name, and referred to his elder brother Michael solely as ‘Crowley.’ Just hearing the name ‘Frederick’ made Pearl’s heart leap in fear.

  “Now, he’s on a witch hunt. This was all he needed to get people to openly hate you, and they’ve formed a mob around him.”

  “But where is ‘here?’”

  “The church. We’re under the church right now.” He raised a finger to his lips as they reached the door from which the voices came. They hushed when he knocked on the door and, after a few seconds of shuffling around on the other side, Brother Gen opened the door.

  “Good. She’s awake. We’re running out of time,” Father Alexander exclaimed from within, his calm authority evident in his words, but the compassion of the priest Pearl knew abandoned. He sat at the lone table in the room. His nimble fingers danced on the surface of a small golden orb, sealing it shut. He didn’t rise to greet her. His bony body had lost its frailty, its angles now harsh and dangerous. His white beard looked less like soft wool and more like a thistle bush. “Nightfall approaches and the mob outside grows restless. We must send her now.”

  “Perhaps we could stall them for another evening?” Brother Gen offered, his gentle voice and innate kindness the few things unchanged in the world Pearl had awoken in. He stood a head taller than her, and his brown hair cut like a bowl worn as a hat. “The Khaous grow smarter and more monstrous every night. Let’s send Pearl in the morning, then await support from Sanctuary.”

  “Any reinforcements from Sanctuary would arrive too late. Little holds Frederick’s crowd from torching the church after he set George’s house ablaze with no opposition or repercussions. And that’s assuming we’re worth the resources.” Father Alexander held out the golden orb towards Pearl. “With our duties here, there is no better choice than Pearl. No one is as prepared as she. Take it.”

  “Where are we going?” Pearl rolled the walnut sized orb around in her hand. The polished gold glowed in the light of the fire burning in the corner. Seams on the top half marked the small, sealed hatches holding whatever it contained. She slid her finger over the smooth bottom half.

  “You alone are making this journey,” Father Alexander answered. He pointed at Brother Gen, and ordered, “Prepare the horse.”

  As Brother Gen left, Father Alexander continued. “He will direct you from the village. Listen to his instructions, lest you want to find yourself lost in the forest and easy prey for the Khaous. Your ultimate destination is the house of a man named Theseus Aeker. It is imperative you deliver that orb to him.”

  “And what about you?” Pearl looked to her father. “Why can you not come with me?”

  “Well…” He stared at Pearl and looked for the answer on her face. “The lamps are dark, and I am a Lamplighter. I must stay and protect those under my charge.”

  “Those under your…” Pearl repeated in confusion. “Those people? The ones you said let our house burn down?!? Frederick, who would have me burned on a stake?!? We should leave all of them to the demons, and go to this Theseus’s house together.”

  “My duty is to protect the living and to serve justice. I do not have to like those I defend, but I must defend them nonetheless. You must learn to put your emotions aside when you serve higher ideals.” Pearl couldn’t think of a rebuttal, her father’s unwavering certainty ending the conversation.

  “Pearl, respect our decisions.” Father Alexander now sat bent and tired, his body worn by burdens he alone shouldered, the commanding elder replaced by a broken old man. “Every moment of our lives, we finds ourselves at a crossroads of seemingly endless decisions. For your father and I, our decisions of the past have made the way forward apparent. But for you, there is no clear path, just a multitude of potential. This journey we’re sending you on…it’s hypocritical, yes, us choosing your fate for you, but you must survive, and no other path can insure this. Respect our decisions and live.”

  “But—“

  “The journey is long.” Pearl’s father put a hand on her shoulder and waved her towards the door. “You must leave soon, or Nightfall will descend upon you.”

  “Pearl,” Father Alexander called out to stop her. His eyes watered as he looked at her and his mouth moved without a word, until he found what he wanted to say. “We are at war. And in war, blood shed is inevitable. But we, the soldiers, were supposed to be the only ones to bleed.”

  “This little experiment of yours would say otherwise,” Pearl’s father remarked, his voice laced with venom, as he guided Pearl from the room. Again, they entered the maze of earthen halls. Her father led the way, never second guessing his path. Neither of them spoke, and in the silence, the echoes of their footsteps filled the space around them. A hallway to Pearl’s left darkened as they passed, the braziers dimming themselves to smoldering embers. Shadows poured into more of the hallways, as if night had seeped underground. They made one last turn and reached a wooden staircase that led into the dirt ceiling. Then Pearl’s eyes adjusted and she saw a pair of wooden doors at the top. At last, her father spoke, “This will take you outside the town. No matter what, do not return until we send for you. I…the bags have most of your things in them. I thought they’d make your stay at Lightholme comfortable.”

  His voice wavered, betraying the sorrow behind his stern face, so when they hugged, it was she who comforted him. For the most part. Not knowing when she would see her father again worried Pearl. They had no one else but each other, and neither knew what it meant to be apart. But she promised, “I’ll see you soon.”

  When her father released her from his spine cracking embrace, he smiled and wiped the single tear falling from his eye before it reached his cheek. “My pleasant Pearl. Travel swift and safe, and with my love.”

  “Good bye, father.” Pearl lingered to watch her father disappear around the corner. Had her farewell been enough? Unanswered, the question sat in her heart like hot lead. She clim
bed the stairs and pressed against the doors above her. Her first push failed, and loosened dirt sprinkled onto her face. The second and third attempts bore no success, but by the fourth, she found her footing and when she pushed against the doors, amber daylight seeped through the gap between them. With a final shove, Pearl threw open the right door. Brother Gen, waiting in his humble brown robes, caught the door and set it down with a soft thud. She didn’t need his help, but when he offered a hand, she accepted it. Pearl had never seen Brother Gen leave Father Alexander’s side, so the awkward sight of him alone disturbed Pearl.

  “You’ve said your farewells?” He showed emotion on few occasions, but today he appeared shaken. His wide eyes jumped from side to side, and his body moved in a series of flinches, as though he expected an impending attack at any moment. The soft, warm glow of the setting sun belied the dangers of the impending Nightfall, an hour or so away by the sun’s position. “And you have the orb?”

  Pearl nodded and revealed the golden ball. He smiled, another oddity, and handed her a sheathed sword, which she recognized as her own. Chosen during the ceremony, its lightness afforded her some speed, yet it had enough weight to do some damage. She pulled the sword out to check its edge, then wrapped the sheath’s belt around her waist. A short walk away, tied to a tree, a stallion with a coat as black as the forest’s depths waited. Pearl ran her hand over his body. She had ridden before, and knew a horse built for speed when she saw one.

  Brother Gen helped her mount up and handed her the reins. The steed considered his rider and made his reluctant approval known with a snort. Brother Gen pointed into the woods and told her, “Ride North. Directly North. The way is clear of trees, for the most part, so you can travel along a straight path. Lightholme is surrounded by a wall of trees, much like the one around New Bethlehem, but tighter and denser. Do not slow as you approach it. It will part for Nocturn. And keep the orb safe.”

  A fevered commotion arose in town, drawing both of their attentions with a jerk. “Godspeed, Pearl. We will…send for you. When we can.”