Duskbreaker: Inferno: Psalm of Gideon, #1

By L.D. Hardin

In the waning months of WWI, a cataclysm struck, and the world died.

 

The legendary artifact of Solomon's Cauldron was unsealed, and millions perished in a magical firestorm that engulfed the Earth. When it collided with Hell, the two planes of existence merged. As cursed immortals, survivors face a new reality. Humanity struggles to survive in a world half infernal, half the ruins of a life they can't have, full of Daemons, magic, monsters, and Reveniens, those miraculously resurrected when the cauldron opened. For Lucifer, Armageddon came and went with a whimper. The machinations of mortals bought him a hollow victory. Bent on the complete merging of the realms, he seeks a method to win by his hand.
 

Thirty years after the convergence, the war with Lucifer and his armies still rages. The Revenien Gideon, an agent for the Order of the Protectors of Life, and his Fallen Angel allies, Mastema and Ramiel, must find the lost text of the Key of Solomon. A document that could undo the curse on humanity and win the war, unless Lucifer succeeds first. In the hands of the Emperor of Hell, the merging of realms will be complete and seal humanity's fate.

 

Will Gideon find the book and save humankind from extinction? Will Mastema find redemption? Or Ramiel mend past mistakes? Will their struggle end in victory or defeat at the hands of the Lord of Darkness? Pick up your copy of L. D. Hardin's novel 'Duskbreaker' today to find out.

• Language: English
• Publisher: L. D. Hardin
• Release date: Sep 28, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393042518

L.D. Hardin

L. D. Hardin is a poet, writer, and author of the recent novel Duskbreaker Volume One: Inferno. A Disabled Veteran, Hardin spends his time raising his children, writing, and indulging in all things geeky. In 2012, Hardin completed a series of creative writing courses at Yavapai Community College and earned the Outstanding Creative Writing Student Award for 2012. A lifelong writer, he first began creating other worlds and characters in the third grade. Now, you can find him working from his home in Phoenix, Arizona or on the web at https://www.facebook.com/leif.hardin and https://www.patreon.com/LDHardin

Book preview

Chapter One

South of Heaven

Anno Regni Umbra XXII (Year of the Reign of Darkness 1940)

Aperpetual gloom stretched across the horizon like a grim veil, undisturbed for twenty-two years. A never-ending dusk. The world as we knew it ended in 1918. Under this crepuscular light a group of survivors knelt before a man draped in ceremonial robes. The flames from tall iron braziers lapped at the air as the priest read scripture from the Christian Bible.

And he will sit as a smelter and purifier of silver, and He will purify the sons of Levi and refine them like gold and silver, so they may present to the Lord offerings in righteousness. Malachi 3:3, the Priestly tone carried over the crowd.

A woman clad in a the black double-breasted cassock waited at the side. A tuft of chestnut hair was brushed from her face as the clergy finished. Mud and muck sloughed off of her worn riding boots, and her spurs jangled in the night air as she walked to a monk observer. On the hilt of her Shashka she rested her hand, tapping a rhythm on the grove of the hilt. Out of continued boredom she switched her tapping to the holster of her Model 3 revolver slung low on her hip.

Light from the flickering flames danced across her pale face. The Maximilian gorget clamped around her neck gleamed with fresh oil. Impatiently she fidgeted with the straps and bits of armor she wore. For a moment, she starred at the marred exterior lost in memories. No amount of oil hid the scars of battle, but did well to hide those of life. Cutting a powerful and noble figure against the glow of the brazier, she was a sight to behold.

A mysterious member of the order, Inessa was one of many senior instructors tasked with training prospective Purifiers. Though the recruits had a less endearing title for her, The Iron Bitch. The other priests finished reciting their respective scriptures. Relieved the ceremony was winding down she took a Black Cat cigarette from a tin and lit it. Utilitarian in much of her beliefs, she saw no value in the pomp and circumstance. With the last drag and an apathetic flick of the butt she strode before the group. A commanding, thick East Slavic accent filled the air.

Rise as Purifiers and may the blessings of the Council of Apostles be with you always, Inessa said. They stood and spoke with a single voice.

From fire, ashes and the dusk shall be purified, they said.

Multiple Clergy from many faiths who were waiting nearby made their way through the crowd, giving further blessings on the congregation. This concluded the anointing ceremony of a graduating group of Purifiers, the paramilitary wing of the  Protectatores Vitae.

Report to Supply Sergeant Luther for you permanent equipment before the end of the day. Dismissed, she said. The crowd erupted into cheers. While the former trainees celebrated, Inessa shared her thoughts with the Priest.

A third won't return from their first missions. Half of the survivors will come back too traumatized to be of any use. Those that remain will be hard, fierce and worthy of the title of Purifier. Really, It's a shame the council won't let me purge the weak ones when I see them, she said. The Priest shook his head.

The rhetoric he had heard too often before still turned his stomach each time it met his ears.

All life is sacred, Commander Inessa. If we resort to purges, we'd be no better than the Daemons we fight,

Impudent laughter carried an unsettling note as she scoffed at the notion.

Haven't you been paying attention the last two decades, nothing is anymore Iago. The weak perish and the strong survive. Your piety is why we're loosing, she said, walking away.

When the next batch of meat arrives, you know where to find me, she said dismissively, waiving goodbye. The callousness nature she projected sickened him. The anointed Purifiers began dispersing into small and passed congratulations to one another. For them, the first assignments would come tomorrow. Until then, she left them to their own devices.

A man clad in garb similar to Commander Inessa clasped at Iago's shoulder.

Oh, Inessa can be insufferable, wouldn't you say? A devilish smile stretched across his warn face.

Yes, it's unfortunate Vicar Hiram, she can be. A black cynicism had swayed many to such thinking, he said as his shoulders sank. With a chuckle, he pulled a flask from his cassock.

Lift your spirits, friend? With a warm smile, he offered the first drink. With a shake of his head, he waived away the offer.

No, I don't partake libations cloud the judgment, Hiram unpersuaded took a generous gulp and wiped his mouth.

Suit yourself. Don't let her get you down. Crass as she can be she's close to the truth, he said slapping him across the back.

Iago gave a heavy sigh and clenched his lips closed. On the outside he showed restraint, while inside he wished to scream. How so many had lent themselves to black thoughts and lost their way, he couldn't fathom. Especially the First Judge, Gideon.

Indeed, he said, forcing a smile. My apologies Vicar, I have other matters to attend, if you would excuse me, Hiram offered a wide, jolly grin and took another swig.

Oh, don't let me keep you, he said, tipping the flask toward Iago.

While he scanned the crowd of graduates, his thoughts dwelt on Inessa's words. How was it faith was a commodity so starved? Will the newest group of Purifiers bring order to the chaos? The solace of this was his only hope. As he continued to observe the crowd, his view came to a cloaked figure. There was no doubt in his mind it was Gideon who often observed the training and graduations from afar. This habit lent itself to rampant speculations. After a quick nod, Iago hurried along his way. A voice like ice called to him from the dark.

You prowling for fresh fodder, I take it?

With a quick flick he lowered the hood, and turned to faced the source of the voice.

Ah, Inessa, I see the Council still has you grinding meat, he said.

The raucous laughter punched through the night, accompanied by the ominous jangle of spurs. The sound announced her advance from the shadows.

And I see they let you out of your cage,

Yes, to stretch my legs a bit,

Stone-faced, she looked out over the courtyard. A sly grin painted her face.

Well, we both know you're being reinstated after your little, incident. Personally, I approve of your methods, though others see you in a unique light, she said, nodding toward a newly minted Purifier.

The man sat under a nearby tree writing a passage in his journal paying Iago, or anyone else any mind. As he finished his entry a group of recent graduates interrupted him. A tall thin man barley of age spoke up first.

Hey, Caspian, you know who you're getting grouped with?

The cap on his fountain pen was replaced, and it was tucked it into the leather-bound journal and latched it closed. Oddly, his demeanor was stilted and cold for a former schoolteacher.

Not as yet, it's my understanding we will receive our assignments tomorrow, Edward.

An awkward smile stretched across his face as he danced his gaze back and forth.

Right, we're hoping to get placed with Gideon, The young man nudged the man next to him. How about you?

A clenched jaw and twitch of the eye betrayed his disdain for the name.

The thing isn't even human. Why the hell would you want to serve under it!

What was merely social awkwardness turned to combative tension. Angered, he clutched his journal tight the shoved it into a pocket inside his cassock.

"What do you mean? That man's a Reveniens, Gideon of the Bible, come back like Jesus," Edward barked back.

Resurrected yes, but nothing like Christ, he shot an icy glare towards him. How do we know it's what it claims to be and not lying? How long before it turns on us? Will you be the one to stop it when it gnaws through your friends and devours their entrails? No, I think not, Murder tainted his eyes as he continued. That thing isn't human and shouldn't be treated like one let alone given command. For all our sake's, I wish the council saw reason, I'd be glad to dispatch the thing myself. Go, leave me be,

The group and Edward left without a further word spoken between them. For a time he remained under the tree, ruminating in silence with his cold thoughts. Unnerved by the vulgar spectacle, Gideon glanced at Innesa.

Yes, I See what you mean, he said. With a dubious, knowing look, she spoke in a hushed tone.

There are those who wish you harm, be mindful whom you trust,

With a tip of her head, she slipped into the shadows again. An unease crept along his senses. It begged him to leave, and so he obliged and returned to his quarters within the main keep. Saddened by what he had witnessed, he hoped he never crossed paths with the man under the tree.

ANNO REGNI UMBRA XXX (Year of the Reign of Darkness 1948)

A group of four men sat atop the dome of the Old Bailey. The structure was little more than tattered and blackened rubble. One man stood with Lady Justice at his side, her face pocked, marked and gouged. The brass body was blistered away into slag. Evidence of the searing heat caused by the Interitum Procella. The storm of annihilation signaled the end of the world. The man was Gideon, son of Joash, returned to the living when the last seal of Solomon broke and the cauldron spilled forth the Daemons contained within.

Found by the Vatican Remnant they instructed him in the ways of the world, learned languages and the art of modern warfare. Afterwards, he was named Primus Iudex, The first Judge and given command of a detachment of Purifiers. Later, he would dub this group The Black Riders. So christened for their disposition and the taint of their sins. The worst of the best skilled men and women seeking redemption for crimes committed in life. Acts of homicide, rape and carnage carried out in the name of Governments and personal causes alike. In the eyes of the pious they were outcasts, to those they protected, heroes .

The man surveyed what once was London, the sky above was a swirling, undulating Stygian drape over the land. Now, it was a world where humankind and the infernal beasts of nightmares walk the same soot laden, gore caked streets. A realm infested, damned to exist as an extension of hell. Silently, he observed a group of Daemons, marching in line a few hundred meters away. With a hunter's eye he watched the column and ran his thumb over a Shield of David clasped between his fingers.

What do you see back there, Ed?

From his post guarding the group’s back, Edelmiro called. A former Spanish Caballeria de Filipinas turned agent of the Council. An M1898 Mauser Karabiner sat across his lap. In the distance he spied movement, readied his rifle and scanned the desolate ruins of the old city through his prismatic scope. All he saw was an emaciated dog suffering from a terrible case of mange scavenging the garbage for sustenance.

Uh, I've got nothing but old dogs back here, he said with disappointment.

There, it's Mastema, the bastards leading a scouting party toward the old Girls School, He stroked the stubble on his weather warn face.

Wide-eyed, Edelmiro shook his head, then tuned away with a defeated sigh. A third man spoke up as he climbed to the top of the dome, taking Gideon's large brass binoculars. Dressed in the breastplate of a British lancer over a stained and dingy priest's cassock. The collar stuck haphazardly from underneath his protection.

Oh, Bollocks, what the devil is Lucifer up to? Vicar Aubrey Hiram said.

A fourth man remained quiet, sitting on the fractured tiles, and bent girders of the dome. Like a careless child, he toyed with slivers of debris and stared at the courtyard below. Lost in distant thoughts, the man didn't respond. From his vantage point, Gideon looked down at his comrade, Becket, the adventurer and former cavalryman. Known as an agent of The Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn. Irritated, Hiram handed the binoculars off and looked at the American with rebukeful eyes.

What, no comment from the Spiritualist? snapping as he continued. After all, it was your people who blessed us with all this, he said gesturing to the ruined landscape.

Raising his hand, Gideon silenced the Vicar.

Enough Hiram.

Pausing, Becket straightened his tattered green woolen tunic and leather jerkin. After he picked up the rifle, he was off after a quick sorting of his equipment belt and bandoleers. Blackened metal fittings once gleamed with polish, now was caked with grime and the gore of slain men and creatures alike.

No problem, It's fine Gideon, he said shuffling past the men. The Vicar is entitled to his opinion, Hiram turned to follow him, jaw clenched tight with a glint of rage in his eyes.

Is it now, old boy? It's a fact a member of your little club of heretics opened Solomon's cauldron, bringing about damnation on the world, Conviction frothed every word as they passed his water starved lips. A smug half smile graced the corner of his mouth as Becket turned back to the Vicar.

And they were heretics even to our Order Hiram, they wanted immortality and now have it, as do all of us in this hell. If your through waxing nostalgic I think we had better move before we're spotted, he said. As he tucked his binoculars into their case, Gideon turned  and faced the group.

No, I think not, we should intercept. The Apostles have a bounty on Mastema I intend to collect, He said. Becket snapped around. The smirk morphed into shock and concern.

No... Are you insane? There are at least a hundred Daemons down there with a High Lord, and you want to ambush them? We should send for reinforcements and bring up the tanks,

Mad as a hatter. Edelmiro interjected under his breath. Hiram sighed and shook his head. The same concern graced his worn face.

I... agree. We are four of hundreds of Purifiers dispatched to confront the Daemons. To take on Mastema, a Lord of hell without any reinforcements or armor is suicide, man, Gideon strode to his friend and patted him on the shoulder.

Remember Vicar, we're immortal, Plastered across his face was a maniacal smile. As for the tanks, they're out of commission at the moment. Low fuel and they need parts. Luther said it'll be at least a week before they're up again, he said.

Yeah, until we're eaten, Edelmiro said.

Frustration seized Becket as he shook his head in disbelief. Why the hell is the armor always down? In frustration, he slung his weapon. What about the armored cars?

They dispatched the cars to Oswestry to aid the Birmingham Eden-Tide in clearing out a den of Vampires, Gideon scooped up his pack and adjusted the strapping. Safe to say they won't be back for some time. In a moment, I'll be sending Kulbir and Byrne with the horses, you're welcome to go with them if you wish. I'm sure they'll enjoy your company, he said.

With a heavy sigh he conceded the argument, secured his gear, and offered no further objections to Gideon's plan. It was nothing but a fool's errand, he felt, to embark on such a quest and couldn't shake the feeling of impending doom.

From his lookout, Edelmiro climbed down. His face was forlorn and weather-beaten. As Gideon descended a series of ropes to the street below he waved the rest of the group along. With their leader on point, it was his job to bring up the rear. An unwelcomed task as he hated being last. 

The smile never broke from Gideon's ancient, wind chapped face. The rest of the men fallowed him down. None among them were eager to face down a Daemon High Lord in the streets of London. Most wanted to return to the Ipswich Eden-Tide for a bath and a meal.

The men mustered on the street near their horses. A Nepali Havildar was standing watch over them along with an Irish Infantryman. The boyish grin still graced his lips as he approached them.

Alright, you two take the mounts and link up with Khan's group. Let him know we're intercepting Mastema and might need support, With a nod Kulbir went set to his task while Byrne shrugged and lit a cigarette.

Oh, I always miss the best parties. So, you'll make it up to me with a bottle or two of good Irish whiskey. Eh? With a chuckle, he waved them off. After they gathered the animals, they headed to the west. The rest set off to the north-east toward the school, hoping to cut off their intended prey.

London was changed into a chthonian playground, with small pockets of sanctuary collectively called Eden-tides existed. The nearest Eden-tide was Ipswich, too far to traverse for most, with horses being a commodity reserved for Purifiers and messengers. Countless horrors awaited travelers who dared to travel by slow means. Streets were no better, with the stench of rot corrupting the very air they breathed. Iron cages were slick with the inner juices of their inhabitants, decaying vessels lined the roads, as a sign of what owned this world. The very walls of the city pulsed with the ochre venom of evil. For a time they traveled and came to the ruins of several flats near the school.

We're close, Edelmiro whispered.

Shrill bellows and guttural returns echoed through the dank blood and water saturated alleyways. The perpetual eventide veiled many of the skittering horrors lurking in the nooks and crevasses dotting the landscape. The sulfur infused smog clung to the ground, parting to reveal the chunks of rotted flesh and bone beset by insects of native and infernal birth wove their paths through the morass of decay.

Hold a moment... cover yourselves behind the debris, he ordered.

The group stalked to their obscured vantage point near the front steps of the City of London School for Girls, readying themselves for battle as they moved. Here, the pungent smog was thicker, it reduced visibility to mere meters. A cascade of shadows danced around the pale vapor. The unit was signaled to hold as Becket took a position near his commander and readied his rifle.

Are we going to let them pass?

Yes, we need to count their numbers first, Gideon said.

As he nodded along with the conversation, he slipped an orb from a pouch.

Yes, I want to see this bastard first hand before cleaving his head from his shoulders,

Right, all for the glory, eh? Agitated he thumbed his safety back on.

The column of creatures moved into sight with their shapes becoming more clear with each passing step. A vague humanoid form led the group, its skin was taunt and leathery in appearance. Its flesh pulsed and shifted under the surface, suggesting something else swarmed beneath its epidermis. Heavy breaths exuded a foul graven stench accompanied by the leaden lumbering of cloven hooves.

"Consult your Codex Omnia," Gideon nodded to Hiram. "I want to confirm his identity and know what the hell is following him," he said.

A device of tarnished silver and brass styled like the lower cannons of the Middle Ages was revealed with a tug of his sleeve. Every inch was etched with runes, glyphs and scripture from many Judeo-Christian and spiritual texts. With a flip of a tiny latch, he opened a six-inch long cover on the underside, he removed an onyx stylus from a leather loop on the lid. A diffused carmine hue emanated from the florid device. Springing to life as he typed away on small ivory keys powered by some unseen electrochemical source.

"The Omnia says it's him, Mastema the Hostile, Angel of disaster, the father of all evil, and a flatterer of God. What the hell is he doing with Jikininki and Lamassu?"

When the column marched along Gideon looked on taking a headcount of enemies. Within his mind, he planned an attack maximizing Infernal casualties.

Is there anything else Vicar? Hiram shrugged, A bunch of things we already know, he travels with Nephilim, commanding them, he said. Puzzled, Edelmiro interjected.

Greater Daemons never mix with lower ones, right? With a smirk, Becket tapped him on the arm.

Yeah, we're figuring out some old texts were a bit off,

Good to know... I guess,

The creatures lumbered past the group. A pungent odor filled the already putrid atmosphere. Carried with it was the slick sound of jowls as they smacked closed, then opened again. Its mouth gaped open and revealed multiple rows of misshapen jagged teeth and hundreds of forked flicking tongues. Its breathless speech screeched and boomed through the air without the movement of lips or perceivable vocalization..

Ah, sons of Adam, children of Yahweh-Elohim, I know your minds and hearts as you stumbled in darkness to find me. And so you have. Come, our goals the same, let us join and God be praised, Mastema said. Each in the group cast gazes of confusion to one another.

How the bloody hell did he know we're here? Hiram whispered to Gideon, who was clenching his Shield of David.

I know your stench, he laughed, and I hear your heart,

Hiram's eyes widened at the revelation, perceptive abilities that keen meant High Lords had to be Fallen.

Bollocks, so it is true, Mastema is one of the first. Lesser Daemons are a corruption of a mortal spirit, they have a soul like anything else. The Fallen don't have souls like you or I, that makes them harder to kill. We should leave, With a dismissive wave he brushed him off It was then, Gideon stood up from the rubble.

Trust me, my friend, he said.

With caution, he approached the horde and stopped a few paces before him. As he starred up at the imposing mass of infernal flesh, he noted his pulsing skin, claws, teeth and tongues. Stoic, unfaltering in his bearing, he folded his hand in front of himself and stood motionless.

Tell me Daemon, why should we join with you? The creature raised his head, he glared with one eye and scrutinized every inch of his six-foot frame. As he spoke, his lips remained still.

Our goals are the same human, the destruction of Lucifer and his unholy host. The removing of this blight upon the Earth so the Glory of God may yet return,

A sarcastic smirk crept over his face as he scoffed at Mastema's proposal. Over the infernal company he panned his gaze, the returned to the Daemon. From his observation he calculated their numbers and his groups' odds. The High Lord waited, impatient he shifted his weight as they stood in silence. Gideon finally spoke up after a few moments.

As a Fallen, you can't be trusted to keep your word with any deal we make. Cast from heaven and God's grace for betrayal doesn't strike as trustworthy,

In thought he paused and gripped the orb tightly.

Why after so long would you forsake Lucifer? Unless it is your vary nature, to betray and lie, Mastema lowered his head, silent he closed his eyes as Gideon continued. What is to prevent you from devouring all of us at your whim?

With a raucous laugh, Mastema lumbered closer to him. The rest of the group raised their weapons in response.

God be praised in his infinite glory. Oh, how the Heavenly Host knows my heart. Yes, I once served Lucifer, feeling the neglect of our merciful father. Lost, he promised we would never be alone again, we would know his love for all eternity. My visage is a mark of Lucifer's affection; it is twisted and malformed like a cancer. I was blessed with this, The monstrous hand gestured over his face before he continued.

For betraying our Heavenly Father, for coveting and my pride I earned my reward. What I seek is redemption, human. Those who are here and those like us pursue the renewed grace of our merciful and great God in Heaven For thine is the Glory!

Within the horde, Daemon's lowered their heads in silence; some mouthed prayers while others stood motionless, averting their eyes from Gideon. The air was tense; a dread loomed over the two groups.

I'll ask you again. How can I know you're telling the truth?

With a nod of his massive head, Mastema uttered a few words in an ancient tongue. With a claw he carved a Shield of David and holy sigils into his forehead. The emblem glowed a brilliant white light as soon as he completed it. As if it were being crushed under an invisible weight his body pulsed and bones cracked and shifted. Putrid flesh melted from his frame and fell in worming clumps. Steam billowed up from his body, obfuscating the rest