Master of Chains (18 page)

“That hurt,” he said.

The captain laughed. “I hope so.”

Liam took two quick strides and charged at Phinneous. The guard captain shifted his weight, adjusting his feet and taking a defensive stance.

Liam’s feet kicked up dust as he propelled himself forward. When he was within a single step, Phinneous swung down on him, but Liam managed to slip to one side, just missing being cleaved in two by the bigger, slower man.

Inside the captain’s reach, Liam dropped his shoulder and plowed right into the man’s chest. As he connected, Liam realized how stupid the move was. Running full force into the huge captain had felt much like he imagined running straight into a barn wall would feel. The man was solid and armored, and Liam immediately regretted his decision.

Liam drove forward with his legs, but he could feel his momentum slowly being drained as he tried to push the bigger man backward. Phinneous seemed to simply absorb the blow. Liam came to an almost complete stop.

In the next moment, it felt as if the world had tipped sideways, toppling the entire parade ground and Captain Phinneous with it. Liam found himself charging forward again, moving his legs as fast as he could to try to catch up with the rest of his body. Phinneous had started to fall backward. The man was so muscular it had taken Liam an extra heartbeat to get his massive frame moving, but once it started going, it really started going.

The captain backpedaled, but his feet got caught on each other, and he tripped. Liam pulled up, slowing and catching his balance. The captain continued on, stumbling into a row of soldiers standing at attention and knocking three of them to the ground. There was a crash, and the four men fell into a jumble of armor and meaty limbs.

Liam stood up, breathing hard, and checked behind him for the other three soldiers. But none of them moved, each standing stunned, looking at their captain in a heap on the ground.

Phinneous struggled to free himself from the other men. Several still-standing soldiers bent down and helped lift him up.

Shaking them off as he regained his feet, Captain Phinneous glared at Liam. “You’re going to pay for that.” His bald forehead wrinkled, and he took a step toward Liam.

“That’ll be enough, Captain.” Captain Beetlestone stepped in front of Phinneous.

The two men locked eyes, and they stared at each other. There was complete silence in the parade yard. Every guardsman watched the conflict between the two captains. Liam watched right along with them.

After a long moment, Phinneous made a sound like an angry kobold then stepped around the blocking captain, leveling his gaze on Liam.

Beetlestone again cut him off. “I said that’s enough. Take your beating like a man.”

The mood in the parade grounds shifted. There had been a sort of animalistic excitement while Liam had been the subject of attention. He had felt like a gladiator in an arena. The guardsmen were the crowd, and he was the show. It had been entertainment to these men.

Now things had changed. The look in the guardsmen’s eyes told the whole story. They were afraid. There was dissension among the commanders, and that shook these soldiers. The men who led them into battle disagreed on something.

The air grew thick with tension. The outcome of this conflict had become more than just the fate of Liam of Duhlnarim.

Phinneous took another step to the side, moving around Beetlestone as he did, not taking his eyes off Liam. For his part, Beetlestone didn’t move, letting Phinneous simply step around.

The blood in Liam’s veins had begun to slow as he caught his breath, but the sight of Captain Phinneous coming for him again filled him with a new burst of adrenaline. Would this man ever stop trying to kill him? Liam hadn’t been an elite guardsman for even a whole day, and he was already regretting his decision.

The bald man advanced. The scars on his face had grown red, and they stood out against his otherwise pale skin. Liam stretched his neck to one side then the other. The anticipation sent a tingling across his skin as the guard captain grew closer and closer.

Behind Phinneous, Captain Beetlestone turned around and drew his sword. “It stops here.”

Phinneous, hearing the sound of steel being drawn, stopped, though he didn’t turn around. “What do you intend to do, Beetlestone? You gonna stab me in the back?” His words dripped with doubt and ridicule. Yet the man didn’t move.

“If it comes to that,” replied Beetlestone.

Captain Phinneous’s jaw grew taut, and his eyes narrowed.

Liam watched the bald man, waiting. The entire parade yard sat silent and still. No one breathed; no one blinked. The only movement was a bead of sweat that slowly made its way between Liam’s shoulders.

Then Phinneous pointed his blade at Liam. “This isn’t over.” He turned around and headed back toward his unit, knocking aside two of his guardsmen as he disappeared into the sea of soldiers.

Liam lowered his guard. He was breathing hard, and his arms were shaking from the exertion. Sheathing his blade, he bent over to retrieve his castaway short sword. As he stood back up, Captain Beetlestone filled his view.

“You’ll be reporting to me from now on,” said the captain. “Fall in.”

Ryder tried to ignore the current state of his life—namely, that if it weren’t for the cage, he’d be on his way back home. His captivity for the past few months afforded him no luxury except time, which made him long for it all the more. His wounds were now completely healed. He could easily make the trek, but there was little he could do to realize his desires. In the meantime, he focused his attention on getting accustomed to Fairhaven.

Once a day a young man by the name of Jase—a night watchman for the Broken Spear—would come and get Ryder out of his cage and escort him around the grounds so he could stretch his legs and get some exercise. There wasn’t much to the place. There were a few artifacts left over from the giants, but other than that, the abandoned palace was sparse.

The Broken Spear was composed of warriors. They had no families, no attachments, and no need to make aesthetic improvements. They didn’t even keep livestock or pets. Ryder assumed this was because it would be too difficult to get them up the ladders.

When he wasn’t out on a chaperoned walk, Ryder thought often of his home and of Samira. He wondered how Liam was doing. Probably already leading the Awl against Baron Purdun. He smiled to himself. Liam would keep everything in order while he was gone. The thought of Liam planning a raid against Zerith Hold made him swell with pride.

Nazeem spent his imprisonment tinkering with things. He had scavenged the entire cage, broken the thin branches off the brush growing in the dirt, and woven them together into mats, which he placed on the ground for the two of them to sleep on. With a small pile of dead leaves underneath them, they weren’t bad.

The Chultan had taken his imprisonment with the same even-tempered acceptance as he had the long, forced march from Zerith Hold. He had an amazing ability to accept the inevitable. Nazeem never seemed to get angry or sad. He just took everything as if it were all part of the plan. It made Ryder feel rather childish for being so homesick.

Over the past day the Chultan had also managed to fashion himself a sling out of a strap of discarded leather. There was plenty of ammunition, and Nazeem was sorting through every pebble and stone he could reach, looking for the pointy ones.

As day turned into night, Nazeem sat cross-legged in the corner of their cell. He dropped a double handful of stones on the ground and began sorting them.

“You better be careful with that,” said Ryder, looking at the sling his friend had built. “You could give a man a nasty headache with one of those stones.” Ryder laughed at his own joke.

Nazeem only smiled, then stood up and placed one of the rocks in his sling. He spun it around once quickly, then let the stone fly. The projectile whizzed through the air and slammed into the stone wall behind Ryder with tremendous force. It shattered into countless tiny shards and rained down on Ryder’s head.

“Be careful,” reiterated Ryder. “If Giselle catches you with that thing, there is no telling what she’ll do to you.”

The Chultan lifted the leather to his forehead and tied the ends behind his head, turning the sling into a headband. He held his hands out, presenting his new fashion. “Surely it is of no threat to anyone.”

Ryder lay back on the woven mat Nazeem had made for him. “I stand corrected.”

It was quiet up in the Giant’s Run Mountains, especially tonight. The air was calm, so the little whistle of the wind through the broken gates and over the ramparts was noticeably missing. All Ryder could hear was the crackling of the small cook fire on the other side of the courtyard and the tumbling of Nazeem’s stones across the ground as he sorted them.

“I see the warriors of the Broken Spear are leaving on another raid,” said Nazeem, changing the subject.

Ryder lifted his head. In the dimming light, through the bars of the cage, he could see a group of the robed warriors walking out the open doorway. “All of them?”

“No.” Nazeem smiled as he looked down on his pile of rocks. He pointed to the top of the wall. “The lovely little one you watch so closely is staying here.”

Ryder followed the Chultan’s hand up to see Giselle standing atop a stone near the crenellations. “Nazeem, I am a married man,” he protested.

“Yes, but married or not, you are still a man.”

Ryder thought about it for a moment as he watched Giselle lean out on the wall, cupping a hand to her mouth to yell something down to the departing warriors.

She was certainly beautiful. And that beauty was only enhanced by her rugged surroundings and seemingly inexhaustible ability to cope with changing situations.

“It’s hard to argue with your logic.” Ryder rested his head back down on the mat. He closed his eyes and thought about Samira. She was strong too, though in a different way than Giselle. Samira had put up with a lot more from him than any person should have to. She held her ground, even when she didn’t know the odds. She waited patiently, not having any idea when her waiting might come to an end. While he had gone out to fight, raising his sword to satisfy his own feelings of frustration and powerlessness, Samira was strong without having to take action. That, thought Ryder, might be the more powerful type of strength, and the more difficult to master as well.

With thoughts of his beautiful wife on his mind, Ryder drifted off to sleep.

A nearly full moon was high in the night sky when he was awakened by the sound of the cage door opening. It was Jase. He looked a little panicked.

“What? What is it?” said Ryder as he came out of his sleep.

“Shh,” said Jase. “Be quiet and follow me.”

Ryder got to his feet. Peering out through the bars, he could see Giselle and several other Broken Spear warriors up on the wall.

“Jase, if you’re trying to help me—”

“There is something coming this way,” interrupted the young night watchman. “Giselle asked me to wake you and your Chultan friend.”

Ryder was puzzled. “She asked you to come get us?”

Jase nodded. “Please, it’s urgent.”

Ryder turned to shake Nazeem, but the tattooed man was already standing.

“All right,” said Ryder to the young man, “lead on.”

Jase tossed Ryder the ruined shackles that had bound him on his way out here.

“You’ll need these,” said Jase. Then he turned and headed across the courtyard, past a line of dead trees beside the wall, and over to the ladders that lead up.

Ryder and Nazeem followed.

When they got to the top, they found Giselle standing on a stone block, peering over the edge with a captain’s glass, a length of rope slung over her shoulder. There were several Broke Spear guards beside her.

“Is it them again?” asked one of the sentries.

Jase climbed up on the stone and motioned for Ryder and Nazeem to do the same.

Without looking away from the view, Giselle started speaking. “Sorry to wake you, but many of our warriors are out on another raid, and we are shorthanded for a fight.”

“A fight?” asked Ryder, trying to look over the wall. The stone was irregularly shaped, sloped up at one end, so only Giselle and the one Broken Spear guard standing beside her had enough height to look out. “With whom?”

“See for yourself,” Giselle stepped aside and let Ryder climb up to her vantage point.

Looking out over the wall, the mountain pass beyond was very dark. The bright moonlight penetrated only the very center of the canyons and pathways that led up to Fairhaven. The plain beyond was well lit, but Ryder was certain whatever it was they were looking at wasn’t that far off.

“What am I looking for?”

“Find the stairs,” directed Giselle.

Though Ryder wasn’t all that familiar with Fairhaven or the view from this height, he followed the statue-lined path to the end of the stairs he had come up when he’d first arrived. He could see where they wound down the mountainside and disappeared into the darkness beyond.

He scanned back and forth, but he could make out only rock and more rock. Nothing out of the ordinary.

“I don’t see—” Ryder stopped in the middle of his sentence. Just there, where the stairs came out of the shadow into the moonlight, he saw something move. Then it disappeared again in the darkness.

Ryder blinked and ran his hand over his face, clearing the last of the sleep. Then he opened his eyes as wide as he could and looked again. Out of the shadows stepped a tall, gaunt man carrying something heavy in one hand. The intruder walked upright, and though it was a long way away Ryder could have sworn that whoever it was took one of the four-foot-tall stairs in a single step.

Then it dawned on him. “Giants.”

“Yes,” replied Giselle. “We’ve seen them in the surrounding hills from time to time. They mostly come out at night.”

“Mostly?” asked Ryder.

Giselle nodded. “There was something I didn’t tell you when you first arrived in Fairhaven.”

“You mean other than the fact that you were going to imprison me against my will?”