Michael R. Fletcher - Beyond Redemption

FOR MY LOVES,

EMMA AND CHARLOTTE

T his is a novel of manifest delusion. As such, the classifications of Geisteskranken (Delusionists) will probably mean little to you. At the end of the novel youll find a very short definition of each classification as well as a complete list of characters. A great deal of additional information can also be found at http://michaelrfletcher.com/beyondwiki/. Or feel free to read and discover for yourself. Sometimes the difficult path is the most enjoyable.

Apologies to those who can actually speak German.

T he old gods were broken by wars and plagues of the mind, left reeling like the most bloodied veterans. Infected with horror at the cost of their actions, they retreated into dementia. Insanity as escape. Seeking to free themselves, they fled to a world of delusion, a world uncorrupted by jealousies and psychoses. And yet, in the end, even this they would pollute. So deep was their need, so desperate their flight from their bitter past, that they ignored the one truism all must bow before.

Belief defines reality.

The twisted fears of the old gods wormed themselves into this creation and became real. Their darkest thoughts took on life. The inhabitants, at one time mere characters dreamed to entertain, became substantive and entertained delusions of their own.

Dreams became nightmares, and nightmares became reality, stalking the earth as albtraum, manifestations of mans earliest fears given flesh.

And the cycle continues.

Creatures birthed by the delusions of such imperfect gods can hold no hope for sanity. These nightmares define new tomorrows, and the gods look on in mute horror at what they have wrought.

NEBRILE GHAST, WAHNVOR HIGH PRIEST

Where delusion defines reality, the Gefahrgeist is king.

VERSKLAVEN SCHWACHE, GEFAHRGEIST PHILOSOPHER

T he consequences of their last job chased them west. One ever-shrinking step ahead of justice, they arrived at yet another decaying city-state.

Bedeckt, eyes slitted against the abrasive wind, rode into town flanked by Stehlen and Wichtig. Launisch, Bedeckts monstrous black destrier, hung its head in exhaustion. Theyd ridden hours without rest and Bedeckt was no small man.

He scanned the evident poverty and doubted this place had ever seen better days. The few structures built from stone instead of warped and fading wood looked ready to fall in. It didnt matter; he didnt plan on being here long.

Bright eyes, pinpricks of desperation, peered from dark alleys, watching. Nothing new there. He and his companions couldnt help but attract attention, Bedeckt with his bulk and scars, Wichtig with his flawless good looks. He glanced left to Stehlen. Her horses ears kept flicking nervously as if it expected to be struck without warning. Bedeckt didnt blame the creaturehe felt much the same whenever Stehlen came within arms reach. She rode hunched forward against the blowing grit, horrid yellow teeth bared in a snarl that seldom left her pinched face. Her right hand rested upon the pommel of her sword. If anyone stared too long, shed likely kill them. Not that anyone ever seemed to notice her. A mangy dog, lean to the point of skeletal, followed them for a few yards until Stehlen turned jaundiced eyes on the mutt. The dog flinched away with a whimper.

Bedeckt glanced at Wichtig. The man looked annoyingly perfect as always. Nothing in all the world could muss that coiffed hair or dent his immaculate smile.

What a self-centered arse.

Dust from the road tickled Bedeckts already raw throat and he sneezed, spraying a wad of bright green snot from his nostrils. Hed been feeling under the weather for a week now and showed no signs of improving.

You sound like shite, old man, said Wichtig.

Im fine. He needed an inn and a warm bed. Gods, hed kill for an ale, no matter how bad.

Stehlen spat into the road and Launisch shied. Even the war-horse feared her.

Idiots right, she said. Lets get you into bed.

Youve been wanting to do that for Wichtig snapped his mouth shut when Stehlen turned her gaze upon him.

If Bedeckt was lucky, the two would kill each other and leave him in peace. My horse is tired and my arse aches, he said.

Your horse is tired and your arse is sore because youre fat and old, said Stehlen, her horses ears twitching away from her words.

So whats this piss-pot of a city called? Wichtig was slumped casually in the saddle as he took in the run-down fortifications and the sloppily uniformed and inattentive guards. He sniffed gingerly at the air and wrinkled his perfectly straight nose in exaggerated distaste. I apologize: this place isnt a piss-pot, its a shite-hole. Totally different odor. He flashed a grin of straight white teeth at Bedeckt. A gust of wind ruffled his reddish-brown hair and for a moment he looked the hero, two slim swords peeking over wide shoulders, his muscular arms resting easily on thighs. Expensive clothing worn to greatest effect. Only his eyes, flat and gray, gave lie to the act.

How could such a self-centered murdering bastard look so heroically perfect? Truly the gods were twisted. Bedeckt, of course, looked exactly like what he was: an aging warrior well past his prime with a bad back, worse knees, too many battle scars, and a love of ale. Hed never looked as pretty as Wichtig, even in his prime. Had he, perhaps things would have turned out differently. But he doubted it.

Better be an inn in this dung heap, said Wichtig.

You ever know a town this size without an inn? And its called Unbrauchbar... I think. Bedeckt warily scanned the city guardswho continued to studiously ignore themand scratched at his fist-flattened nose with the remnants of his left hand. The last two fingers were missing, severed at the first knuckle in a pointless war many years ago. A massive, double-bladed ax hung within easy reach from a leather loop in his horses saddle, its blade pitted from rough use. He glanced at Stehlen. You been here before?

Stehlen ran a long-fingered hand through matted and clumped dirty blond hair. They were musicians fingers, though shed never played a note. Pale and watery blue eyes with flecks of green, the whites a sickly and unhealthy yellow, squinted out from under the tangled hair. Her angry gaze dashed about as if she were searching for something to hateit didnt seem like shed need to look far. She flared the nostrils of her hooked nose as if perhaps shed find what she sought by smell.

No, she answered.

Good, muttered Wichtig.

Stehlen scowled at Wichtig. Why good?

You probably wont know anyone here.

So?

So maybe no one here will want to kill us, he said.

She ignored him. Why here? she asked Bedeckt.

Bedeckt answered without looking at her. Because here is better than where we were.

If Wichtig hadnt bedded that

But he did.

If you hadnt killed those

But I did. Bedeckt finally glanced at her and frowned as she showed crooked yellow teeth in a disappointed grimace. I also seem to remember some of the Lords property going missing. The theft had a fair amount to do with the killing. Wichtigs actions had sparked Stehlens thieving, but Bedeckt couldnt figure out how or why. The Swordsman had bedded the Lords wife, and Stehlen stole the womans jewelry shortly after. Were the two events linked? No, they couldnt be. At least he hoped they werent.

Stehlen tried to look wounded and innocent and failed. She didnt have Wichtigs flair for deceit.

You dont have any gold left, do you? Wichtig asked Stehlen. It would be nice to stay in a bit of style.