Byzantium Infected Box Set

  Byzantium Infected

  By James Mullins

  First Kindle Edition December 25th, 2019

  ©2016-2019 James Mullins

  Published in association with Longinus Industries

  Editors: Doug Cree and Lee Jenkins

  All rights reserved. This book may not be reproduced in any form, in whole or in part, without written permission from the author.

  This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously

  Prologue

  Mount Hira 610, Arabia

  Mohammed sighed contentedly as he looked up at the many-hued masterpiece in front of him. The sun had just crested the horizon and was shining upon Mount Hira. For a brief time after dawn each morning, the normal tan and brown colors of the eastern face of the mountain were transformed into oranges, reds, and purples. Overcome by the beauty he spoke, “I am truly blessed to behold such beauty.”

  He reached down and scooped up a handful of the sand at the base of the mountain. The grains felt cool to the touch. He opened his fist just a bit to let the sand particles fall back to the earth. He watched the grains fall, “Straight down good no wind. Today’s climb should be easy.”

  Mohammed began his ascent. The stones, not yet heated by the sun, were cool and pleasant to touch. About halfway up the mountain he stopped climbing and looked up. The peak stil towered above him, but thanks to his efforts, had grown much closer.

  Looking down, he felt that it was about the same distance to the bottom of the mountain as it was to the top. A faint bit of wind tickled the hairs on the back of his neck. Curious, he turned around. A gasp of surprise emerged from his mouth. Despite his swarthy complexion his face noticeably paled.

  In the distance, from the ground to the heavens was a brown wall. As he observed the wall, it slowly filled out the horizon to his left and right, “Curses, I must find some shelter before that abomination arrives and flays the skin from my bones.” He hastened to continue his ascent. After a dozen minutes he paused to catch his breath. Turning to observe the progress of the storm he thought, I have maybe thirty minutes to find shelter.

  Mohammed looked around. Recognizing where he was, he increased the pace of his ascent. I must make for the cave. As he clambered up the cliff face, a gust of wind pushed him into it. His forehead struck the hard-rocky surface, causing little white dots to cloud his vision. Despite his disorientation, he was able to hang on. Clinging to the rocks, he turned toward the oncoming storm. It was nearly upon him.

  Mohammed continued to scramble up the mountainside toward the cave, but he had run out of time. The wind howled into his ears and seemed to both push him into the cliff and pull him at the same time. Grains of sand hammered his skin causing him to cry out in pain. The beleaguered veteran of the desert thought. My skin feels as if a thousand bees are stinging me all at once! I must get to the cave soon, or there will be nothing left of me but my sandblasted bones.

  Mohammed looked around trying to get his bearings. Satisfied he knew where he was, he scrambled up the cliff until he reached a plateau. He smiled when he saw the familiar shadowed maw of the cave entrance a few feet away. He carefully picked his way over the shifting rocks toward the cave. Suddenly, a gust of wind picked him up and flung him to the left and then slammed him to the ground. Again, he saw white spots and felt dizzy.

  Mohammed shook his head and cleared the spots from his vision. He then stood and began stumbling through the storm in the direction he thought the cave was. As he slowly walked, he tripped on a large red rock and fell to his knees. The pain of the jagged stones biting into his skin was intense. Trying to ignore the pain he struggled against the wind. Managing to stand up again, he realized that he had lost his way.

  As Mohammed pondered which direction to head, the howling of the storm increased in intensity. I know not which way to go. Picking a direction at random, he started walking again. As he walked, it was a struggle just to remain upright. The strong winds buffeted his body and tried to push him off the mountain. Losing his balance, his feet slipped out from under him. His body struck the ground hard, and he began to slide toward the edge of the cliff.

  The wind shifted direction and began pushing him away from the edge, “Praise God.” The wind, a fickle ally at best, changed direction again, swirled into a dust devil, and pushed him toward the edge once again. Mohammed thrashed around, desperately trying to find anything to stop his descent. Through the swirling sand, he spotted a large rock with a good hand hold on the edge of a cliff just before the gaping oblivion of open air.

  Straining with all his might, he reached out to grab the rock as he slid by it. His fingers touched the rock and clamped down, trying to get a grip on the smooth stone. They failed. His fingers slipped off the stone, and over the edge, he went. I’m falling!

  Almost instantly Mohammed’s body crashed into the ground. He landed on his left leg, and the impact sent shooting pain up the limb. The water skin he had slung over his shoulder exploded upon impact with the hard rocky surface. The parched earth swallowed the precious liquid in the blink of an eye.

  Mohammed panicked. Hurt, and without water, he thought groggily. He spent several moments recovering his senses. As the grogginess abated, he looked up at the opening of a cave. I know every nook and cranny of this mountain, but I have never seen this cave before.

  His left leg chose that moment to remind him of the extent of his injury. The pain of his injured leg caused him to gasp out loud. For several moments there was nothing in his world but the blinding pain. After several moments, it settled down into a dull throb. He felt like he could make his way into the cave.

  Mohammed began crawling toward the opening but paused when he noticed a faint scrawl writing above the entrance. The Arabic letters formed a name. The name had faded over time and was very difficult to read. He studied the name trying to make out the individual letters.

  Squinting, he was able to make out the writing through the swirling sands. The first letter looked like a J. He was unable to read the next two letters. The fourth letter, appeared to be an R. The next two letters appeared to be Es, and the final letter looked like an L.

  Mohammed thought to himself for a moment. He recognized that sequence of letters. The two unreadable characters must be an I and a B. “Jibreel,” Mohammed said out loud. Thanks to the sandstorm his throat was parched, and it came out as a croak.

  Mohammed entered the cave and rested for a moment. He let his eyes adjust to the darkness. The throbbing in his leg was still painful but seemed to be subsiding. The interior of the cave was pitch black. As his eyes adjusted, he was able to make out a very faint outline. He heard the sound of water bubbling at the back of the cave. Relieved, Mohammed gave a silent prayer of thanks and crawled toward the sound.

  As the bubbling water became louder, he heard some gravel shift nearby. “Hello?” He paused. “Is there anyone there?” After several moments waiting for a response, he heard a low moan, or was it a growl?

  It sounded faintly human, but it could have also been an animal, “I won’t hurt you.” Again, sound came forth, but this time it was distinctly louder and closer. Mohammed could hear what sounded like shuffling steps moving toward him. He tried to stand up, but his left foot slipped out from under him.

  The throbbing in his leg erupted into an agonizing bout of shooting pain. Unable to stand, he fell to the cave floor. The impact with the hard rock stunned him. Without warning, teeth tore into his shoulder and pulled away a piece of his flesh, “What are you doing?” He screamed.

  Full of adrenaline and with the aid of the cave wall he was finally able to stand up. He limped outside into t
he raging sand storm. Not caring at all about the storm, Mohammed limped as fast as he could from the cavern.

  Finally, after he felt that he had put a safe distance between himself and whatever creature bit him in the cave, he looked down at his shoulder. It was bleeding freely. He could see tooth marks in the torn edges of his flesh. A human mouthful sized chunk of his shoulder was missing.

  Mohammed suddenly felt faint, stumbled, and fell to his knees. His body felt like it was on fire. A few seconds later he lost feeling everywhere as his skin first tingled and then turned numb. Desperate, he tried to stand up as the edge of his vision darkened, but his body refused to respond to his command. He was overwhelmed with burning hunger as his vision failed, and the darkness took him.

  Approximately twenty-five years later

  Chapter 1

  November 9th 635, Armenia Province, Byzantium

  Athos took a deep breath and tried to remain perfectly still. He was crouching in some underbrush he had piled up in an effort to conceal his position. He skulked on top of a small cliff overlooking a deer path. As he waited, his eyes marveled at the colorful canopy of leaves dotting the forest. The variation of color was breathtaking sight to behold. Varying shades of red, yellow, green, and gold blended together to form a natural masterpiece.

  He loved this time of year. The beauty of the woods took one’s breath away. Below him, the game trail wound its way between two cliffs. The spot he had chosen was perfect to cast a spear down upon anything that chose to use the path. Hemmed in by the two cliffs an animal could only go forwards or backward to escape.

  Athos made eye contact with his brother. Kristophor had climbed a birch on the opposite cliff and was concealed by the golden canopy. He was laying chest down on a large branch. His legs straddled the branch for stability. In his hands, he held a bow. He had stuck three arrows into a branch within easy reach of his right hand. This setup would enable him to fire off four shots in quick succession.

  Kristophor returned Athos’ intense gaze with a nervous smile. At ten years of age, this was the first time he had been allowed to join Athos on a hunt. There had been no choice. Lazar, their father, and Athos’ normal hunting partner had fallen ill. With their families’ stomachs protesting from a lack of food, Athos was forced to bring Kristophor.

  It was folly to hunt alone in these mountains. There were all sorts of threats that two people could deal with much easier than one such as wolf packs and bears. Scratching a living out of the side of a mountain was difficult at best, but the harvest this year had been particularly bad yielding barely enough grain to plant seeds in the coming spring. That meant that they had to hunt for their meals in the mountain forests that towered over their farm.

  A deer kill could supply enough food to feed the family for a month. Athos and Kristophor’s mother, Anna, and younger sister, Elizabeth, waited with their father back at the farm for the result of their hunt. At seventeen years of age, Athos had a very lean and muscled body. His gray eyes showed a keen intelligence, but just as often betrayed a lack of confidence.

  He was dressed in a threadbare and weather-stained pair of trousers and a simple tunic. For warmth, he wore a deerskin his mother had fashioned into a coat for him. Kristophor was similarly attired. His piercing blue eyes contrasted sharply with the dull browns of their clothing.

  A slight breeze blew causing the branches of the trees to sway and creak. Leaves fell to the ground around Athos further concealing him. Sudden movement to his left jerked him from his thoughts. The movement was slight and was picked up by his left eye’s peripheral vision. The animal came down the path causing the leaves on the path to crinkle with each step.

  Athos very slowly turned his head to peer at the spot he had seen movement. Minutes ticked by and he cursed himself for allowing his thoughts to take over, dulling his senses.

  After what seemed like an eternity, but in reality, was maybe five minutes, a shape appeared on the section of path Athos could see, It was a huge buck! The antlers of the large deer must have had eight points. The well-muscled body weighed 15 stone, possibly more. A deer such as this would feed his family for a nearly two months after they smoked most of it.

  Athos made eye contact with Kristophor and held up one finger. One finger meant deer on the path. Kristophor nodded in response and slowly looked to his right. A little gasp left his mouth as he saw the deer for the first time. The deer froze at the unexpected noise. The buck pointed his nose up in the air at a seventy-degree angle and sniffed several times.

  Athos held his breath praying the deer wouldn’t detect them. A gentle breeze touched the left side of his face. Thank God, he thought. We are downwind. Satisfied that his nose revealed no predators, the buck walked slowly up the path. Athos tried to breathe slowly, but his nervousness made his breath come out in rasps. The warmth of his breath caused little puffs of steam to emerge from his mouth.

  The buck slowly approached the spot on the path below Athos. Come on. His body tensed with anticipation as his heart quickened in response. Adrenaline surged into his bloodstream causing his perception to slow. The buck took the last few steps forward until he was directly below Athos.

  The young hunter leaped up, his spear held in his right hand. The buck saw Athos move and froze. Athos pulled back and cast the spear at the animal’s neck. Simultaneously, the deer leaped forward and raced down the path. The spear struck the fleeing beast on the right hind quarter sinking in. Blood burst from the wound, but the buck didn’t stop. I’m going to lose my spear!

  Dull thuds began to erupt as arrow after arrow struck the buck’s neck. Three arrows pierced the left side of the buck’s neck. A fourth arrow hit it on top of its mid back. The animal kept running for about half a minute and then toppled snout first into the hard ground.

  Athos and Kristophor ran for the buck. The dying animal’s labored breath caused puffs of steam to emerge from its mouth. The beast had come to rest on its right side. Wisps of steam also puffed from the buck’s life blood as it oozed from the multiple wounds in its body. As the deer lay dying the wind kicked up causing a cascade of golden leaves to rain down upon it. A moment later, the awareness in the buck’s eyes faded away as the two boys reached him.

  Athos swept Kristophor up into his arms, “Amazing shooting little brother!” Kristophor smiled at the praise. The younger brother looked down at himself and was mortified that his arms were visibly shaking. “Be at ease little brother; I was the same way when I got my first kill. You get so excited you shake.”

  Kristophor looked up at Athos, “Thanks for understanding Athos.”

  “No one will hear about this back at the farm, only of your amazing shooting skills.”

  Athos set about the work of getting the corpse of the buck ready to travel. As he worked, the young hunter took the opportunity to instruct Kristophor. Athos gave Kristophor a general overview of what he was doing. “First you have to open it up from just under the rib cage to the lower belly near the tail. Once you do that, you have to take out all of the guts inside. Leave those behind. It will keep the wolves off of you, as you carry your kill back to the farm.”

  Athos continued taking the time to instruct Kristophor as the sun got lower and lower on the horizon. Finally, he completed the task just as the bottom of the sun touched the western horizon. Athos attempted to heft the buck onto his shoulders, but the weight of the animal was too great, and he failed, “Whew! This fellow is so big I can barely lift him.”

  Athos tried to take a few steps, but very quickly stumbled to his knees under the immense weight of the buck. Kristophor grabbed his left arm as he fell. This prevented Athos from completely losing his balance.

  “This is too heavy for you to carry brother. How do we get him home Athos?”

  Athos’ face contorted into a perturbed look, “We will have to build a sled and drag him back to the farm.”

  Athos looked around for the materials he needed. He spotted a couple of branches on a nearby tree that would work, “Kristo
phor see if you can find a tree with a thin vine growing on it while I work on breaking three of these branches off. Hurry, we don’t have much daylight left.”

  “Ok,” Kristophor immediately started looking through the forest to find a tree with a vine on it as instructed.

  Athos walked over to the tree he had spotted. There were two branches about seven feet off the ground and a third one out of reach. He jumped up, grabbed the lower branch and pulled himself up onto it. Once he had his entire body on the branch, he stood and grabbed the first branch he needed. It was about three inches around.

  Athos pulled back and forth on it like he was rowing a boat until he heard it starting to crack. With more care, he placed his left hand on a different branch for balance and continued pulling on the branch with his right arm. He was rewarded with a loud crack, and the branch came off of the tree. As it struck the ground, it caused several leaves to fly up into the air.

  Next, Athos lowered himself until he was hanging from the branch that his feet had been standing on, and began pulling on it as hard as he could. As he built up momentum, the branch began to crack under his weight and effort. After about two minutes, the branch made a loud snapping noise, and Athos fell two feet to the ground, easily landing on his feet with perfect balance. Athos repeated this process for the third branch. His efforts were soon rewarded, and it too snapped off the tree.

  The teenager looked around for his little brother, “Kristophor?” The sun had sunk below the western horizon, and it was very quickly growing dark. Off in the distance, a wolf howled. We need to get this done and moving.

  Athos called out again a little louder this time, “Kristophor?” From behind him came a loud scream that turned his blood to ice, “What horrible manner of creature is behind me?” Athos leaped three feet forward ripping the hunting knife he used on the buck out of his belt. He frantically looked around for his spear, but couldn’t see it in the dim light. The next thing he heard was giggling.