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  INCEPTION

  Book Two of THE BLACK KNIGHT Series

  Written by Christian J. Gilliland

  © 2019 Mountaindale Press. All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by US copyright law.

  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.

  Table of Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Afterword

  About Christian J. Gilliland

  About Mountaindale Press

  Mountaindale Press Titles

  GameLit and LitRPG

  Fantasy

  Acknowledgments

  For my girls: Brielle, Penelope, and Everly.

  Everything I do, I do for you.

  For Atley and Shelley. Thank you for always supporting me.

  For Shawn and Tyler.

  Prologue

  21st of Ramlia – 346AG

  09:00 – Black Knight Base 21

  The sky was gray and overcast over the Calduur Mountains of northern Canrom. The wind blew lightly over the land and rustled the lush trees and vegetation that filled the area. Small flowers had bloomed in the grass and trees for the month of Ramlia, the summer month, had come and was already three weeks in. While the world was bustling with life around them, the inhabitants of Black Knight Base 21 had taken the day to mourn the loss of two of their own. Jeph Scaven and Crinnan Jamiso.

  “He was a good soldier," captain Bran, the hulking white-haired and single-eyed Gaian announced to the crowd of mourners that stood before him. His voice rang out over the silence like thunder over the sea. “Crinnan was young… quiet… he was strong. The boy had his life ahead of him. It is truly a shame that we lost him the way we did,"

  Behind Bran was a stone altar with a flame burning on top of it. Crinnan’s sword and chest piece rested at the foot of the altar; his sword had been found in the Weald, his armor had been left behind in the Izla'Axi caverns. The mourners looked on with faces that were mostly devoid of emotion. They had all grown accustomed to death, numb to it… only those that were close to Crinnan showed visible signs of pain.

  “I wish there was more we could have done," Bran reflected as he lowered his head. “I wish he could’ve continued the fight with us… I suppose the reality now is that he has given us another reason to fight… the reason being that his fight was never in vain. That his memory will live on,"

  A middle-aged male Humaan and dark-haired she-Elf stood behind the towering Gaian Captain. The man, Commander Crinnan Jamiso Sr., had his arm wrapped around his wife’s shoulders. She stood silently with her arms crossed and head lowered; a furious look was painted onto her face.

  “Lord Crinnan, would you like to say a few words?" Bran asked, turning to the two. Commander Crinnan looked at his wife and squeezed her shoulder. He let go and stepped forward.

  Bran looked at Commander Crinnan who stood a foot and a half below his eye level and placed his massive hand on Crinnan’s back. “I’m sorry old friend," Crinnan nodded at him, and Bran stepped back and stood next to Crinnan’s wife.

  Commander Crinnan stood for a moment and stared at the ground before him in silent deliberation. He looked at the mourners before him, and they waited patiently as he gathered his thoughts. Finally, he sighed and spoke.

  “What does a man say…" commander Crinnan asked, his voice aged but smooth. “What does a man say at his son’s funeral?" he bit his lip and nodded his head again.

  “As many of you know, Crinnan is not the first child I have lost. My first daughter and eldest son both went missing long ago. Ladia and I pray that they still breathe. While we may hold on to even the slightest shred of hope for them, I fear that my son Crinnan’s fate is decided," he wiped a tear away from his eye and cleared his throat. “Crinnan is… was… very much like his mother," he said with a chuckle. “Kind of an asshole."

  The mourners laughed, for many of them knew of the younger Crinnan’s reputation. He did not like to be looked at, touched, or spoken to, and he always had a sharp word or balled fist for most who tried. He always preferred to be left alone.

  Commander Crinnan looked back at his wife and saw that however faint, a half smile had momentarily formed on her face. He knew she would probably rip his ear off later for his comment, but making her smile was worth the lashing he would undoubtedly receive...

  “I remember when he was young," commander Crinnan continued, “He was a little fireball. He would always get into fights with his elder siblings. Nobody was too big for him…" Crinnan laughed as a memory popped in his mind. “Why, I remember one time I took his toy sword away. He punched me square in the dick," the mourners laughed again and so did Crinnan.

  “God, I loved that kid," Crinnan's face briefly wrinkled up with sadness. “I will always love that kid… you see, behind that hard exterior, behind those walls that he built for himself was the most beautiful heart. He felt so much harder and deeper than any of my other children… he experienced the world differently than the rest of us. He protected animals from his brother Kiersen, protected his twin brother from… his brother Kiersen… He would always snuggle up in my or Ladia’s arms at the end of the day. When we would kiss the top of that thick-haired head, he would try to burrow deeper. My son loved being loved. He hated showing love though… but that is something I can forgive," Crinnan sighed deeply, and looked out at everyone.

  "While I have done my best, I have not always been there for my children," the commander admitted with sorrow in his voice. "I wish... things could have been different. Had I been able to be there to protect them, Sayraa, Kiersen... Had I been there with Crinnan I would have given every breath I had to protect him," he sighed, and tears fell down his face.

  "It is why I fight this damned war. To make a better world for my children. It is why I cannot stop!" anger spread across his face for a moment, and he paused to compose himself.

  “Another day, another death, right?” he seethed, digging deep within himself to find the kind of words a leader needed to say. “This time it was my son… so what must a man do? Do I lay down? Submit? Do I give up?" commander Crinnan trembled with fury and passion. His eyes were ablaze with fervor, and he swept his gaze over the assembled soldiers in front of him. As his lip curled into a snarl, he took a mighty step forward and pounded his fist against his chest.

  “Fuck no!" he began to speak faster and more furiously, “The battle isn’t any less won or any more lost with the death of my son or Jeph Scaven… we now have an even deeper responsibility to keep fighting, to win! We fight for true freedom. For those that hate us we fight. For those who think they are already free, we fight… We fight for our sons, for our daughters and grandchildren, our husbands and wives… We fight for those fighting next to us.
We must never stop, even when not if, we lose something or someone we love. My son died, yes, and I will never forget that boy... and I will make damn sure that my sword cuts down a hundred other father’s sons if that’s what it takes to free this world from Govia’s grasp!”

  The mourners nodded, and some clapped or cheered. Commander Crinnan turned to his wife and looked at her for a moment and then back to the crowd.

  "Today, we remember Jeph and my son and all the others who have fallen to protect our way of life! Today we mourn. Tomorrow, we pick up our swords and we shove them through the hearts of all who will stand in our way. We will cut down every Govian who would ever dare think of getting in our way!"

  Captain Bran stepped forward and pumped his massive fist into the air. “For Crinnan!" he bellowed, returning his thunderclap of a voice for all to hear. The mourners returned his shout with their own.

  “For Crinnan!”

  Chapter One

  Crinnan XI

  21st of Cidraa – 346 AG

  90 Days Prior to Awakening

  He felt as if he were falling a great distance as the wind passed through his hair and over his body. His gaze was cast downward, and he curiously watched as the world grew smaller and further away instead of closer as he would have expected it to if he were truly falling. That was when it hit him, he realized he was in fact not plummeting toward the ground, but instead rapidly ascending into the sky.

  The darkness of night had gone. The growling of his attackers and the pain that they had induced was nothing more than a memory. Crinnan’s arms flailed as he floated upward, or at least he thought they did. When he looked for his body, he saw nothing. That of all things made him panic.

  He passed through the clouds or what he perceived were the clouds and was engulfed in the brilliant light of the Brothers. The brightness blinded him, and he saw only the radiant exuberance that one would when facing only toward the suns. A comforting feeling of heat spread over the skin that he did not have. He thought he felt warmth and solace in the light, but Crinnan discovered that he was no longer a physical being. He was nothing more than his thoughts.

  Crinnan tried to think, to figure out what was going on. The last thing he remembered was being dispatched by his sergeant Kavin, to scout the area. His squad was camped in the Izla’Axi caverns West of the Belhaasi Weald. Their mission had been to gather intel on a radio tower that had recently been constructed south of the Canruusi Canyon. It was supposedly powerful enough to give the Govian Empire communications abilities throughout the entire country of Izla’Axi; they were to observe it and determine whether they were going to be able to destroy it.

  Crinnan had been sent with his squad mates Jeph and Pancho to make sure the area was secure. He remembered walking through the darkness of the Belhaasi Weald, flashlight in hand and a cigarette hanging from his mouth. He saw it all clearly; his memory was as vivid as if he were watching himself. He saw the ambush, the Toraan monsters jumping from the trees, eviscerating him and taking his body to consume. He watched his guts fall from his stomach, saw his eyes close and witnessed the life fade from him. Crinnan saw himself die.

  “No," he cried as his “body” stopped ascending. A wave of sudden terror overcame him. Having realized he was dead, he knew what was coming; the Hells awaited him. He was afraid, no he was mortified.

  “Fuck!" he angrily shouted as he stared into the light of the brothers, “Not this. Not now!”

  Twenty-three years was all he had. Twenty-three years of living, breathing, eating, drinking, fucking, fighting, and shitting it all back out. As he floated above the clouds and stared into the brother’s light, he realized that it all was in vain. He realized that his life had been worthless, that he had been a failure, a damned tool in a war that had only brought him to his death. Had he still had his eyes, he felt like tears of disappointment would have begun to fall.

  “Where are you?" he called out as he looked around, “I knew this day would come! Let’s get this over with," at that, a brilliant, blinding white light even brighter than the Brothers exploded from what would have been the center of his body and for the briefest of moments he saw nothing.

  Everything went silent. He heard nothing, neither the wind nor the steady beating of his heart. When he finally came to, he found that his body had been returned to him. He looked down at his hands, the same hands he had looked at his entire life and he bit his lip. As he shook his head, he realized he was completely naked and that he stood on a crystal clear glass floor surrounded by radiant white light. He knew that he was no longer alone.

  “I guess I am here," he choked. He was fearful of looking up for he knew exactly what was before him, “And I suppose you must be…”

  “Dura’Ana," a voice more beautiful than he could ever imagine said, “I am,"

  Crinnan looked up and saw before him the form of a female adorned in a flowing white dress. Her silky black hair and the fabric of her clothes seemed to float all around her; her face was hidden behind the same white light that previously enveloped him. In her right hand, she held a sword, in her left, a golden book… the Book of Mercy as it was called by her followers.

  “Crinnan Jamiso," she sang, her voice sounded like a chorus of angels. He only allowed himself a moment to marvel though, for she was not his goddess, “Why did you deny me in life?”

  “Fuck yourself," Crinnan growled as he clenched his fist, “You and your son thrive off of the pain of others. You made my life hell. Do what you must goddess, I am not afraid,"

  “You are, afraid child," Dura’Ana corrected him., “You opposed me in life, you curse me in death. What must your judgment be?”

  “Send me to the Hells bitch!" Crinnan shouted, “It does not matter what I say, I am Hells bound no matter what. I cannot stand to look at you another minute; get it over with!"

  At that, the book of mercy in Dura’Ana’s left hand crumbled. The goddess swung the sword in her right hand and vines of darkness began creeping toward Crinnan from all directions. He watched and his heart pounded yet he did not move. He was consoled only by knowing that he would meet the same fate that every Black Knight before him had, that he had earned his place in the Hells.

  The vines quickly took hold of Crinnan and wrapped themselves around his wrists and ankles. Dura’Ana reduced in size so that the two of them stood eye to eye and she stepped up to him. Without another word on her part, she planted the sword into Crinnan’s chest and the black tendrils seized him and suddenly became everything he saw.

  Heaven vanished and Crinnan once again saw the planet far beneath him. He fell from a height he did not know existed and watched as the world grew bigger and bigger. He grit his teeth and his lips trembled as the ground drew nearer.

  When Crinnan’s body finally struck the solid ground, the world seemed to shatter like glass. It tore through his skin and left jagged splinters all through his body. What wasn’t shredded by the glass was ripped apart as he passed through the rocky layers of Duraan, the glassy planet taking every bit of flesh it could. Eventually, he found the bottom of the world and it opened up and allowed Crinnan to pass through. Crinnan, who was naught more than bone and blood at that point, burst into an entirely new world.

  Had the ground not been engulfed in flame the world would have been naught but blackness. Crinnan’s bones passed through wave after wave of smoke and he began to hear the roaring and crackling of the fire beneath him. He heard the screaming, the shouting and the laughter of the demons within. He had entered the Hells.

  The sound of solemn organ music began playing, softly at first, accompanied by the voices of a chorus. They sang in an ancient language, one he did not understand, but the as he drew nearer and nearer to the burning ground the tempo and volume increased, to a point where it sounded like the chorus was screaming.

  Fear enveloped him. He did not know what was going on but when he was nearly one hundred feet from the ground somehow something flashed before him. It was a sentence spelled out into red glowing w
ords and it seemed to float in the air above him no matter where he looked.

  You have died.

  “No shit!” Crinnan shouted. However the strange words had appeared, he couldn’t help but notice that they weren’t very helpful.

  The burning ground was approaching quickly. Crinnan knew he had no more flesh to lose, but he braced his bones for impact. He closed his eyes tight just as his skeleton slammed into the ground, shattering into more pieces than he had bones. Everything went silent.

  “Wow, so this is forever?" he found himself asking as he laid sprawled out through the fire of the Hells. He listened to the pleading and screaming around him, watched as laughing armored demons stomped through the flame in pursuit of fleeing prisoners. He tried to close his eyes but realized there were no eyelids. For all he knew, there weren’t even any eyes…

  It was a strange sight to behold, the daily activities of those who accompanied him in the Hells. He watched as the strong hunted the weak. Some of them planted daggers into their target’s backs, some just chopped them in half with giant glowing swords. Everyone screamed, some with delight some with terror. Crinnan couldn’t make any sense of it, was it a war? Was the place being plundered?

  For what seemed like days, Crinnan lay on the ground in pieces and watched as more bodies fell from the sky and shattered just as he had. As he laid there, he thought most of his mother. In life he had not spoken to her much for the two had grown very distant. He knew she loved him and he, of course, loved her, but it was not something they spoke of. Yet, it was the most comforting thought he could find, the idea of being a child once again locked in her embrace.

  “No!" he suddenly heard someone shout. A smooth, wet and pale skinned corpulent demon with a hook the size of Crinnan in his hand was hot in pursuit of someone. The demon laughed and whooped as he chased his prisoner. Crinnan watched as the monstrous looking creature caught up with its target and quickly swung his hook. The point of the massive weapon impaled the terrified being and the monster lifted him up off the ground.