The Renegade Within
FireWall Book One
Mark Johnson
Contents
Free Firewall Content
Prologue
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
Chapter 22
Shadows In Fog
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Glossary
Acknowledgments
The FireWall Series
About the Author
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The search for the massacre’s perpetrator has moved to another land, but what did the demon leave behind in Armer?
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The Renegade Within and the FireWall series are works of fiction. All characters, events and locations in this book are fictional. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
This book is copyright. No part may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording or by any information retrieval system without written permission from the author, except for short excerpts for reviews, in fair use, as permitted by the Copyright Act. FireWall and its characters are copyright.
For rights and permissions please contact:
Mark Johnson
PO Box 64406, Botany, Auckland 2163, New Zealand
The Renegade Within, FireWall © 2020 Mark Johnson
Cover Art by Christian Bentulan © Mark Johnson 2020
Maps by Patrick McDonald © Mark Johnson 2020
Prophecy Press logo by Hannah Wynn
Paperback ISBN: 9798623526656
KDP ASIN: B086B93255
Created with Vellum
This book is dedicated to AMAN.
Prologue
“That is not a mine, sir,” said Sergeant Tummil.
Examiner Damulen Reeben muttered under his breath. Night was no time to investigate Polis Armer’s rural minelands, but orders were orders. Reeben followed the young man’s gaze to the stone tower.
“No. Mines don’t need lookout towers, do they?” Reeben replied. “We’ll have a look and get out of this valley before—”
“We’ve company,” Tummil interrupted.
Shadowed figures emerged from behind a nearby grassy hill. Reeben swore. “Tell me that’s not plate armor they’re wearing.”
“It is,” said Tummil, waving the other eight troupe members to lower their batons. “They’re Seekers all right, sir.” Tummil swallowed. The troupe muttered.
Reeben bit his lower lip. “Seekers means chaos energy. So, is it a dark shrine or cadvers in there? If the Seekers reckon there’s enough chaos energy floating about, we’ll leave them to it. Remember, watch out for anyone fighting over stupid things. But if there’s a poltergeist, you’ll know it. They’re not subtle.”
Tummil exhaled.
The Seekers stopped far enough from Reeben’s troupe for the parties to ignore one another. The Seeker Head approached, removing her helmet.
“Evening, Head. You had a safe walk out?” Reeben said.
“Terese Saarg, Armer Stone Chapterhouse.” The woman was the youngest Reeben had seen in command of a Head’s complement, perhaps thirty years old. Her brown hair rested on her shoulders against her slender metallic plate armor.
“Damulen Reeben, Jurat Quarter,” he said, taking her hand.
Her grip was firm. “The Center hologrammed us. Said they’d detected… irregularities.” She looked past him, to the lookout tower.
The mine’s door was thick enough to keep out the most crazed cadver. He knew that, for the door’s battered wooden remains lay in the mud a short way off, its internal side facing the sky, its hinges shattered.
“Whatever did that was trying to get out, not in,” Saarg said. “Is the site secure?”
“We scanned,” said Reeben. “It’s clear.”
Saarg frowned at the gaping stone doorway. “I believe you have jurisdiction, for the moment, Examiner.”
Very well, then, he thought.
Their truncheons at the ready, the eight investigators followed Tummil into the stone-and-mortar structure.
His muffled shout echoed moments later. “Examiner! We’ll need those Seekers!”
Saarg ordered her troops in. Reeben and Saarg entered behind them.
Inside, stale bread crusts were scattered over dust-coated bench tops, in cold, empty rooms. Dirty clothes and old newspapers lay discarded atop musty furniture. Then they came to the damp kitchen. A battered black hole was all that remained of a camouflaged trapdoor in the floor.
It was proof the place wasn’t a mine: This place hadn’t been used to attract raw iron to the surface. Whatever madmen had built this, they had actually dug into the earth!
Reeben took a deep breath. “Underground? Should we send for back-up?”
Saarg didn’t move. “I’m not sure we have time. If the Center learned of this place tonight, perhaps Polis did, too.” Fear painted Saarg’s face, haunted her eyes.
Rebeen’s throat tightened. “Masks! Lenses!” he shouted, fumbling for his own mask.
Saarg gave a similar command. Her face disappeared beneath metal and dark glass.
Reeben gritted his teeth behind his vent. “You have jurisdiction, Head.”
Saarg’s complement took the stairs, their clanking steps and the hum of their shockpoles the only sounds.
Reeben and Saarg descended, his Investigators following. The spiral shaft was tight. His breath quickened. As usual, his hip twinged when he stepped heavily on his right leg. Almost forty years ago, on his third raid ever, a thug with a wooden bat had gotten lucky. Once.
“The stairs are metal, Head.” Reeben’s vent made his voice metallic and harsh. The recycled air was stale.
“And deep. How did they dig this?”
“Not with spades.” He almost lost his balance and steadied himself, one hand against the stairwell’s smooth wall. If something waited down here, just above Swallowing depth, he wouldn’t be able to quickly climb those stairs.
They reached the bottom step. Reeben’s lenses rendered his gloves in shades of gray as he stroked the smooth walls. These walls. With no reinforcing wood or steel buttresses, it was as if they’d been baked into shape instead of excavated. He’d never heard of such construction techniques.
“It’s safe!” shouted a male Seeker. “But Head, you should see this!” Reeben didn’t see Saarg draw her shockpole, but he recognized its quiet hum. The thrill of its vibrations lifted the hairs on his neck.
Reeben followed her down the curved corridor, past small, tidy bedchambers and minimal lounges. He’d never heard of Darkness worshippers keeping such military precision.
“Through there!” called the Seeker, pointing at a doorway.
Reeben looked inside. “Burned Gods!” He leaped back from the door, suddenly glad of
