Master of Chains (22 page)

Something hit Liam hard in the back. He was lifted off his feet and thrown into the trees. Branches thrashed at his face and arms as he whipped through the foliage. Liam flailed his legs as he flew.

Liam’s forward momentum slowed as he smashed through the trees. He lost his grip on his enchanted blade as he crashed to the ground on a pile of broken branches. The impact knocked the wind out of his lungs, and he struggled to draw a breath.

Behind him, he could hear the rustling of footsteps through the bushes.

Every fiber of Liam’s body ached. With much effort, he flopped over onto his back to look up at the elf vampire. In her hand she gripped the collar of Knoblauch’s

armor, dragging the veteran’s partially limp body behind her as she methodically paced through the underbrush toward Liam.

Her words hissed from between her lips. “Looks like you both belong to me.”

Nazeem stood concealed in the shadows. He had watched Ryder pull the statue down on top of the undead giant leader and had seen him foolishly try to trip the beast with only the strength of his arms. That man was going to get them both killed. Damn Erlkazaran.

No one in Chult was that bold or that stupid. That included Nazeem. If Ryder wanted to get himself smashed into bits, then that was his business. There were limits to a man’s loyalty.

“You wouldn’t ask Nazeem to walk off a cliff, so why get him into this?” he whispered.

He liked Ryder. He seemed like a good man. A man a criminal like Nazeem could use to his advantage. A man like that could likely accomplish anything as long as it were in the name of justice or fairness or whatever cause those revolutionary types seemed to use to justify their existence.

Nazeem’s lack of riches seemed like a pretty good cause to him. And he had intended to find a way for Ryder to help him correct this injustice.

But judging from his heroics in the plaza before Fairhaven, Ryder was not only driven to fight inequality, he was also crazy. Nazeem liked to think of himself as a brave man, a man willing to take risks—an entrepreneur. But looking out at the two undead giants, he felt this venture was taking a turn for the worst.

Perhaps it was time to cut his losses.

Taking one last look at Fairhaven and Ryder, Nazeem skirted down the shadows on the edge of the rock wall toward the giant-sized stairs. “Goodbye, Ryder of Duhlnarim,” he said as he slipped over the edge of the first step and into the darkness beyond.

“I need a weapon.” Ryder crouched beside the open gate to Fairhaven.

“I told you,” said Giselle, “there’s nothing here that we haven’t already put to use.”

“No one here has a second? Not even a dagger?” Ryder threw his hands in the air. “How do you intend to—”

“I… I have something,” said Jase timidly.

Both Ryder and Giselle turned to the young man.

“I didn’t think it was much of a weapon until I saw you fight the giants with your shackles, but…”

“Great,” said Ryder. “Whatever it is, I’ll take it.”

“It’s in my footlocker,” said the young Broken Spear.

“Well go get it then,” spat Giselle. “And be quick about it.”

Jase nodded his head then took off running into the courtyard.

The undead giants had finished with Curtis’s illusion and were making their way toward the open gate.

“All right. Everyone stay calm,” whispered Giselle. “We wait until they cross the threshold, then we pull the rope tight. As soon as that smelly bastard hits the ground, we jump on him.”

The Broken Spear nodded their understanding.

The moments that followed seemed to take an eternity. The shuffling footfalls of the giants could be heard outside the gate, and no one inside moved a muscle. Ryder looked out at all the waiting warriors. He hadn’t studied them all that closely before. The few standing here were young, and they all looked completely terrified. All of them, that is, except Giselle.

Their leader had a grim glint in her eye, a look of complete determination, as if her will alone could carry the day and deliver these young men and women to safety. Ryder nodded. Perhaps it could.

Ryder could smell the first of the giants before it stepped through the gate. Its foul stench burned his nostrils, and he began breathing through his mouth.

The lumbering undead appeared inside the threshold. It took two steps more.

“Now,” shouted Giselle, standing up from the shadows and pulling on the rope as hard as she could. The fine muscles in her arms lifted to the surface, and Ryder could see her straining.

The other Broken Spear warriors did the same, and the rope snapped taut. The giant obliged and moved forward, entangling itself in the trap.

“Pull,” shouted Giselle. She redoubled her efforts.

The giant took another step. But instead of falling, it dragged the rope and the Broken Spear warriors with it. All eleven of them slid forward a step, their feet slipping on the dry, dusty ground.

“I can’t get a grip on the ground,” shouted one of the warriors.

The giant took a second step, and the group slid several more feet. A few of them even lost their grip, and the rope came free of their hands.

The second giant came through the gate. The Broken Spear warriors still clinging to the rope had all been pulled out of the protection of the shadows and into the middle of the path that led through the front gate.

“Look out,” shouted Ryder.

The gigantic undead growled and brought its club down on the closest Broken Spear warrior it could find. The man was focusing so hard on keeping hold of the rope that he never even saw it coming. The club smashed the man’s head down through his shoulders and into his own chest. Blood splashed across the ground, looking like specks of black rain in the pale moonlight.

“Let go,” shouted Ryder. “Scatter. Fight for your lives.”

Giselle looked back from where she held the rope, then echoed Ryder’s warning. “Run for the shadows.”

Just then Ryder felt someone tug on his elbow. It was Jase.

“Here,” he said, holding out a length of steel chain.

Ryder took the weapon from the young man with a smile. He never thought he would be so happy to see a simple length of chain, but under the circumstances, he’d take it. “Thanks.” He slapped Jase on the shoulder. “Now scatter.”

Jase nodded and bolted for the dark edges of the courtyard.

Ryder did the same, skidding to a stop behind a broken section of rock that had fallen down from the wall high above. Dropping into a crouch he quickly examined the weapon young Jase had given him. It was beautiful. It was made of fine blue steel. Unlike the regular chain that Ryder had used hundreds of times on the farm to hitch carts to oxen, the links on this one were rectangular. In the middle of each was a thick, sharpened spike attached to the rest of the chain on a hinge. The point could swing one way or the other, supposedly depending on how the wielder swung it. Along the edge of each link there were tiny sigils—what looked like a pair of triangles with their tips attached and an extended S running through from the middle of the base of one to the base of the other.

The spikes were absent on each end and along a stretch in the middle of the chain. These spikeless links were a darker color than the others. It was hard to see in the gloom, but when Ryder grabbed hold of the end, he could feel that the darkened sections were wrapped in some sort of leather or hide. This wasn’t just a chain; it was a masterly crafted weapon.

“That’s more like it,” said Ryder. He lifted his gaze to find the giants in the middle of the courtyard.

The pair of them had their backs to Ryder. They stood before the wall on the opposite side of the courtyard, bent forward, looking down at something. Though he couldn’t see for sure, Ryder thought it looked as if they had someone cornered.

He gave his new chain a quick tug. “Time to give you a test run.”

Charging across the open space, Ryder brought the chain around in a long loop, letting it pick up momentum. At a full run, he skipped twice and brought the flailing spiked chain over his head as he closed on the first undead giant.

The chain whistled as it whipped through the air, and it lit up with crackling purplish energy. Ryder brought it down on the giant’s back, and it sizzled as it struck, discharging the built up energy into the undead creature. The beast’s hide lit up with arcane energy, and the spiked chain tore a huge gash across its back.

The giant let out a tremendous roar, stomping its foot and shaking the ground. It spun around and slapped at the crackling energy that played across its body. As it did, Ryder could see Giselle and two of her Broken Spear warriors with their backs against the wall.

Giselle stood bravely before the other two warriors, holding them back with one arm and menacing the giant with her long sword.

Then Ryder heard Curtis’s voice. “Excuse me.”

Ryder felt something brush by him, and a string of footprints appeared in the dusty ground accompanied by the sound of running. The prints led right up to the cornered trio then they stopped.

Ryder heard Curtis’s voice once more. “Visi indisi vaso.” And right before his eyes, Giselle and the Broken Spear warriors disappeared.

The giant looked down, then to both sides, obviously confused.

“Psst,” whispered Curtis. His voice sounded as if it were coming from somewhere in the middle of the courtyard. “Ryder. Draw them away.”

Ryder nodded, not knowing where Curtis was, but assuming the illusionist could see him.

Taking two large steps backward, Ryder twirled his spiked chain over his head. It lit up again, and when he brought it down on the ground the energy dissipated across the stones and through the dirt.

“Hey,” he shouted. “Over here.”

Both undead giants turned and took a step toward the master of chains. And Ryder in response took ten large steps back. As he hoped, the giants followed. Their legs were larger than his, and they covered more ground. Eventually, he was going to run out of room.

“All right,” he said to himself, “now what?”

Nazeem lowered himself down and dropped from the end of the last stair. Turning around, he bumped right into the returning Broken Spear raiding party.

“Where do you think you’re going?” said a tall, robed warrior.

Nazeem looked out over nearly three dozen Broken Spear.

“Fairhaven is under attack,” he blurted, pointing back up the steps. “Giants. Undead giants. Giselle and the others are in terrible danger. We must hurry, there isn’t much time.”

The warrior nodded then looked back over his shoulder. “To Giselle,” he shouted. In a single bound he leaped to the top of the first stair and turned around to offer Nazeem his hand. “Come, it’s faster this way.”

Nazeem looked once at the path that led away from the stairs to the Giant’s Plain. Then he nodded and grabbed hold of the hand. The man pulled, and Nazeem climbed up the edge of the stair with ease.

The others followed suit, headed up the steep path toward Fairhaven.

Ryder scrambled up the ladder that led up the steps to the top of the wall. The undead giants followed close behind him. They had an advantage. The steps in Fairhaven had been made for creatures of their size. For every four steps Ryder took, the giants took one, and they gained on him as he climbed.

At the top of the stairs he bolted down the walkway. He didn’t know where he was going to go, only that he wanted to draw the creatures away from Giselle and the others. But now that he’d done that, he had no more plans, no more surprises or easy escapes.

On the flat ground, Ryder tried to put some room between him and his pursuers. But on top of the wall he quickly ran out of room. His path was blocked by a pile of rocks—debris from the top of the crenellations being smashed in. Ryder tried to climb up it and over to the other side, but as he put a foot on the pile, it shifted and tumbled into the courtyard far below, bouncing off a large dead tree and nearly taking him with it.

Jumping back to avoid falling off the edge, Ryder turned to face the oncoming giants. With his back against the wall, he had no choice but to try to fight them. And judging from his last encounter, this wasn’t a fight he could win.

Whipping the enchanted spiked chain over his head, Ryder steeled himself for the fight. The giants closed the distance quickly and bore down on him.

“Forgive me, Samira,” he said as he prepared to strike at an oncoming giant. “I did not mean to leave you like this.”

The first giant hefted the bolder it had been carrying and hurled it at the cornered fighter. Ryder expected to have to deal with the creature’s club, but not this, and his reaction to the flying stone was slow. He jumped to his right, away from the projectile and off into the thin air above the courtyard.

Behind him, the bolder connected with the defensive structures on top of the wall and shattered in a shower of sharp stones. In front of him, the darkness of the courtyard opened up, and the ground rushed toward him. Flailing as he fell, Ryder didn’t think, he reacted. Flinging the chain out, it wrapped around the narrow trunk of the same dead tree the stones had bounced off.

Catching on itself, the chain pulled tight, and Ryder’s arm was nearly yanked out of its socket as he held on for dear life. He swung out and around the tree, circling the trunk. It wasn’t the most graceful move, but it saved his life, and Ryder thanked the gods that it had been a chain Jase had given him rather than a sword.

As he came to rest against the tree, Ryder grabbed hold of the trunk with his legs, dislodged the chain, and slid all the way to the ground. The moment his feet landed on the paving stones, he felt someone touch his shoulder, and he spun, prepared to fight another undead giant.

Instead he turned to see Nazeem smiling at him. “That was a pretty good trick,” he said, pointing to the tree.

“Nazeem, you’re alive.”

The Chultan nodded. “I am a very hard man to kill,” he said. He hitched his thumb over his shoulder. “Look what I found.”

Through the gate came what looked like the rest of the Broken Spear.