Fractured Bonds: A Dark Fantasy (Fractured Lands Book 2) Read online

  Fractured Bonds

  Fractured Lands Book 2

  By Greg Alldredge

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

  ISBN: 9781797971421

  Contact the author at

  [email protected]

  @G.Alldredge on Facebook

  @MrAlldredge on Twitter

  greg.alldredge on Instagram

  © 2019 Greg Alldredge

  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.

  Cover Art by Ryn Katryn Digital Art.

  Melinda Campbell, Copyeditor

  www.MCEdits.com

  For my wife, thank you for believing in my crazy ideas.

  Chapter 1, Kanika:

  Chapter 2, Ollie Shoemaker:

  Chapter 3, Kanika:

  Chapter 4, Brett Villa:

  Chapter 5, The Spy:

  Chapter 6, Zorra Villa:

  Chapter 7, The Spy:

  Chapter 8, Brett Villa:

  Chapter 9, Ollie Shoemaker:

  Chapter 10, Meyers Shepard:

  Chapter 11, Hayline Shoemaker:

  Chapter 12, Meyers Shepard:

  Chapter 13, Saunders Coleson:

  Chapter 14, Hayline Shoemaker:

  Chapter 15, Kanika:

  Chapter 16, Lane Stone:

  Chapter 17, Saunders Coleson:

  Chapter 18, The Spy:

  Chapter 19, Zorra:

  Chapter 20, Kanika:

  Gods of the Shards:

  Chapter 1, Kanika:

  Before she opened her eyes, the creaking and groans told Kanika she was on a ship that sailed the cracks. Her body ached, not just hurt but screamed. Afraid to open her eyes, she remembered the horror that befell her ship, the Resolute, and how many died before her. Tears fell from her closed eyes over the death of her father and the sailors she considered her family. They mixed with the bilge water as they dripped from her filthy cheeks. Fuck me, she thought.

  Water rushed over her body, which meant the ship sank or she was in the hold, the lowest level of the craft, sitting in the filth that needed to be pumped out. The saltwater stung the lower part of her body. She knew from the flair of pain that her body had been violated. She was unsure how many times, but a raw pain burned inside her in more ways than one.

  Her shoulders throbbed, arms held outstretched over her head by crude shackles. Afraid to move, she contemplated a possible way of escape from this hell. A soft whisper of sound and the stench of unwashed bodies compounded her fears. Risking all, she willed her eyes open, able to clearly see out of only one—her left eye would not follow her command and stayed shut. With the smallest of movements, she scanned the hold. Bodies lay shackled in cells, men and women both stripped, with the women separated. She was a captive in the hold of a slaver’s ship.

  A woman’s soft voice whispered to her, “They’ll be changin’ the watch soon. That’s when the guards ‘ill be down ta take care of their needs. Best ta stay layin’ down, and sleepin’ perchance they’ll be passin’ ya by. Ya can hear them before they come.”

  Kanika struggled to find who spoke, all she really wanted was to be free of the filth and cage she had been locked in. Killing each of the crew on the ship would be a bonus. “Who are you?” she whispered without ever seeing the source of the voice.

  “People call me Lizzie. I’m a high priestess of Anshika—”

  “You’re a witch.” She spit through her teeth.

  “—Goddess of the Moons. I’ve been called such yeah.”

  She had heard of such but never met one, intrigued she forced her head around to get a glimpse of the woman in the adjoining cell. What she found didn’t impress her much, the tiny woman seemed covered in her own filth.

  “They did this to you because you are a witch?” Kanika asked.

  “I’ve been here longer than most, they can’t sell me, most people fear me. The few that didn’t fear me came to rape me, this deters ‘em.”

  “Can’t you call your magic down and destroy them all?” Kanika returned to her relatively comfortable position on her side facing away from Lizzie.

  “It doesn’t work like that, but the all-seeing Anshika has foretold your comin’. Thin’s are about to change. The awakenin’ is about to happen.”

  “Sounds like shit to me. You know anything useful?” Kanika laid her head down, trying to decide the best way out of this mess.

  “I know a great many thin’s—” before she finished her thought, the eight bells rang out clear from above, and the tread of heavy footfalls echoed down the ladderway. “They be comin’ now. Mind yourself…” The witch didn’t take time to add more.

  Kanika expected more attackers, she plainly made out a single pair of feet descending the wooden ladder at the head of the compartment. The slaver’s bare feet sloshed in the putrid water. How any man could get a hard-on in these conditions was beyond her. The water had to be up to his ankles, filled with the refuse from the human cargo.

  A clanking sound announced the guard’s approach, it must have been the key. The asshole taunted the female captives with the sound ringing through the fetid space. If Kanika found an opportunity, she would kill the man with that key, or any other weapon available.

  For some reason, the witch in the cell next started chanting. That would get old quickly. The footfalls stopped, Kanika grew sure, right outside her cell. Key scraped against metal as the key was inserted into the lock. The cell door protested movement, layers of rust coated the hinges, nearly binding their movement.

  Before he touched her, she felt his presence standing over her. The sound of rough hands rubbing on cloth reached her ears. Eyes closed she only guessed what horrors the monster did over her body. Her stomach turned at the thought of such garbage so near to her and yet still out of reach. Her mind shrieked while she forced her body to remain still. The chanting in the cell next to her grew louder, the tempo increasing the closer the creature slumped over Kanika.

  Hands like sharkskin grabbed her ankles. She wanted to recoil, to lash out with every fiber in her body, yet she quieted her mind and remained limp. She knew some bastards like their victims to fight back. She wouldn’t give the dickbiter the pleasure of fighting. Prepared for the worst, she forced her mind calmer despite the chanting, yet the witch continued to a crescendo. Kanika was flipped on her back, her legs forced wide.

  The ship took a sudden lurch when a massive wave struck the port side, causing the ship to roll to the starboard. Kanika’s assailant had been bent over her body, his pants down around his knees. Unable to compensate for the sudden movement and the loss of stability, he pitched over, landing on top of Kanika. The weight of the man knocked the wind from her, causing her ploy of unconsciousness to fail.

  The surprise became much greater for the sailor. Kanika used the change provided her to go on the attack. Even with muscles sore from the abuse she’d suffered from the likes of the ass on top of her, she forced herself to attack. Her legs wrapped around the man’s waist, and she used every ounce of her remaining strength to lock her ankles and crush the wind from him.

  His face close to hers, he shouted, “Bitch, stop it!” She fought back the vomit from the stench of the man’s breath. His howl briefly drowned out the chanting thumping in Kanika’s head.

/>   She smashed her forehead into the man’s nose. Blood burst from his broken nose, splashing down his face, but his bad day was getting worse. His eyes crossed, on the verge of unconsciousness. With a crunch of her abdomen, she lifted his throat closer to her mouth.

  Needing him quiet or dead, like a trapped animal, she used the only weapons left to her. Mouth wide, she sank her teeth into the exposed flesh of the man’s throat. A soft squeak escaped his lips when her jaws locked on his windpipe, she felt the bones and cartilage crunch under her might. Forced to fight for his life, he pummeled her head with blows from his fists, but it was too late for him—his hyoid bone and larynx crushed. In a fit of rage, her head jerked and ripped his voice box from his throat.

  Blood sprayed her naked body, his squeak became a gurgle while he tried to speak, his life’s blood emptied first onto Kanika then filled her cell. His body eventually went limp between her legs before he dropped on her chest.

  She spat the remains of his neck into the water and kicked his corpse off her. The thought of what she had done struck her; she vomited.

  Breathing deeply, she tried to think clearly. Her head throbbed with pain, the rush of adrenaline the only thing that was keeping her going. An inspection of the cell and she realized the key remained in the cell door. She might’ve killed her attacker, but her means of escape might as well be across the crack from where she stared at it. The cell door swung open with the key lodged in the lock.

  “Damn it,” she cursed softly under her breath, body slumping in disappointment.

  “Check his neck, the keys for the shackles should be around his neck,” Lizzie whispered. “Hurry, more might come at any time.”

  Kanika shot her eye to the hatch where the dead man entered. A shot of fear ran through her soul. She swore as the sound of footsteps approached overhead, walking towards the ladder. Over her lifetime she had spent years running the decks barefoot. With practice, her toes became flexible. She now used them to push back the blood-soaked cloth of the sailor’s shirt, where she found a cord tied around his neck.

  The footsteps returned, echoing through the space. Her total concentration on the cord, she lost track of her surroundings and what happened beyond her little world of the cage. The occupants of the pen across the narrow path followed her progress intently.

  “Hurry!” the witch in the next cage hissed and began softly chanting again.

  Kanika found the key. She would chew the man’s head off if she could reach it. The cord, soaked in blood, made it hard to grip with her toes. Taking the utmost care, she lifted the strap from the man’s neck.

  The hatch opened. Sure she would be caught before she freed her hands, two feet appeared on the top step and stopped. Laughter and jokes were interchanged from above. The key free of the corpse, Kanika raised her feet over her head and handed herself the key. There arose a collective sigh once she grasped the key in her hand. The entire cargo hold had held their breath watching her movements.

  With a single click, her right wrist became free. With help from the chain, she set herself upright and unraveled the bindings from the crossbars of the cage. Before she finished, the feet on the ladder continued down the steps, and the hatch closed.

  The shackles now free of the bars, Kanika held a ready weapon. She’d only a few moments to devise her attack. She crept aft, best she could, considering the damage to her body. Once around the first corner, she waited. Her swing would need to be timed flawlessly, or all would be lost. The approaching slaver would raise the alarm before she killed him.

  The approaching man hesitated in shock when he found his dead comrade sloshing about on the deck. Before he had a chance to think, Kanika bolted from around the corner, the manacle on the chain’s ends a perfect weight to swing as a weapon. The added force from the whip of the chain crushed into the man’s head, sending four teeth and a spray of blood flying into the cell.

  He dropped like a keg of nails. Kanika wanted no chance of his returning to fight again. She beat his head with the shackle until gray matter showed through the bloody hair and bone.

  Satisfied he was dead, she reached for the key in her cell door. More men might come at any moment, she needed to free as many as possible and take the ship. The first rescue was the shit-covered witch in the cell next to her. Unsure if the chant helped her, she felt it was the best she could do.

  “You must free the men first, as quietly as possible. We’ll have a chance with more help,” Kanika told Lizzie as she unlocked her.

  As much as Kanika wanted to free the few women, most looked unready to fight. They hid cowering in their cells as best as their chains would allow. The witch took off to release as many as she could.

  The men were not individually chained. They had rings attached to both wrists, and a chain was run through them before it attached to the deck, effectively pinning them on their backs. Once the first lock clanked opened, ten men were freed. While the witch ran off to free the others, Kanika searched the two corpses in her cell. Unfortunately for the cargo, the slavers were smart enough not to bring weapons into the hold when they came to rape their captives.

  She had freed a small army and had no way to arm them. “Shit,” she whispered to herself. She inspected the bodies one last time, hoping to find anything that might be used as a weapon and found nothing. At least we can tell them apart from us. They are dressed, we are all nude.

  She listened as the freed men plotted their next move. Before they got the lot of them killed, she headed for the ladder to stop any premature attack. She arrived just in time, the first batch of men approached her blood-drenched body sitting on the steps.

  “Thanks for setting us free, woman, but now is the time for the men to take this ship.” The largest man stepped forward. She inspected his body, his muscles would make a pleasant diversion for the old Kanika, before the abuse her body had recently undergone. She had little use for such things now. Especially a man with a chip on his shoulder.

  “If you climb those stairs, we are all going to die.” Kanika held her ground sitting on the steps of the ladder.

  “She is right,” a familiar voice rang out. It was Bran, the bosun from the Resolute, her former ship. She fought the urge to jump up and hug him. There was another matter to fix first.

  “Look, we just want out of this hole. If we die fighting, at least it will be in battle, instead of locked up like animals,” Muscleman whispered.

  “I would rather only the bastards above us do any dying. Let’s plan for an attack. I am sure we outnumber them…” She paused to estimate heads. “Three to one. All we must do is attack wisely, and they will not stand a chance against us.”

  Muscleman placed his hands on his hips, hissing through his teeth, “And who are you to give orders?”

  Before Kanika answered, Bran cut in. “That is Kanika, first officer from the Resolute, my first officer. I was her bosun.”

  “I don’t care who you are, to me you’re a worthless slave like the rest of us,” Muscleman hissed trying to be quiet.

  Kanika knew there was no time for this. If the idiot didn’t shut up, the crew above their heads was going to discover the escaped cargo and quell the rebellion before it got started. With Bran at her back, she was ready to kill Muscleman where he stood. Before she struck, the men standing behind Muscleman parted. She saw the look in their eyes as they studied someone moving between them. It was a look of fear and disgust, Kanika had seen it many times in the past.

  The men continued to part until the witch Lizzie stood directly behind Muscleman’s right arm. She spoke with the voice of an angel, so softly Kanika barely heard, “Who are ya ta be given orders? You did nothin’ to free us. Now stand aside before ya die.”

  Kanika witnessed the expression change on Muscleman’s face. Open defiance turned instantly to fear, and before he spoke his voice morphed into reluctant bravado. “Stand aside, witch. It’s time for men to do the heavy lifting. You women stay in the back and get ready to cook.”

  Kanika
watched as the short woman pointed her right index finger at the man’s chest. Lizzie whispered, “Do ya risk ma touch? If this finger touches, ya will not see the next sunrise. Your soul will be damned to the hole, forever fallin’ never to return.” She moved to touch her finger to the center of his chest over his beating heart, and he backed away. “Now stand aside, and let the woman who rescued ya lead. If she is killed, then ya will have your chance.”

  Kanika had never witnessed such a huge man shut down so quickly from such a small woman without violence. However, she knew the fear of a witch’s reputation was as mighty as a sword.

  “All are free. What ‘chur orders, ma’am?”

  “We wait to strike when the time is right, not a second before,” she whispered to everyone standing.

 

  All in place, they just needed to wait for the right moment to spring the plan into action. It had been some time since the first two victims entered the cargo hold. Eventually, someone would come to torment the captives; that’s when they would strike. Kanika would let no one test the hatch to discover if it was unlocked, she didn’t need to. Anyone with a sense of security would recognize the need to keep as many locks between you and the people that wanted to kill you. She was sure if they tested the hatch and it was locked, it would alert the crew above that the cargo had gained their freedom.

  The moment to act came, announced by the footfalls on the deck above as someone approached the hatch. Kanika’s assumption was correct, from her new vantage point she clearly heard a key open the lock above. She briefly wondered what the signal was for the two dead bodies to exit the hold when they were finished. Shortly it would not matter if her plan worked. They were about to escape the hold and fight their way through the crew deck.

  The feet of the crewman appeared in front of her, standing on the top step to close the hatch. She grabbed his feet and, with all of her might, pulled as hard as she could. Jerking the man in front of her off-balance, he fell out-of-control face first into the treads. Before the man moved, another woman wrapped her chain around the back of the man’s neck and pulled with all her might between the steps. A sickening crunching sound filled the cargo hold as the man’s neck bones were crushed, killing him instantly.