Master of Chains (23 page)

They sprinted into the center of the courtyard, many of them with bows in hand. Dropping to one knee, they nocked arrows and let them fly at the top of the wall.

“Look out,” Nazeem grabbed Ryder by the arm and yanked him away from the dead tree.

A heartbeat later, the first of the two remaining undead giants fell from above, landing atop the skinny tree and crushing it utterly. The second followed shortly thereafter.

With the immediate threats gone, Ryder slumped to the ground.

“I need a bath,” he said.

Nazeem sniffed the air. “You aren’t kidding.”

The Royal Herald of Erlkazar opened the double doors with a practiced flair. In the center of the throne room, he dropped to one knee, bending at the waist to perform an elaborate bow in the middle of the huge, woven Zakaharn rug. Standing again, he cleared his throat and looked up at the dais and the throne where King Korox of Erlkazar sat.

“My lord, King of all five baronies and the kingdom of Erlkazar,” said the herald, “I present to you Master Montauk of Ahlarkham.”

The double doors swung open again, and Montauk stepped into the throne room.

As he expected, it was an opulent affair. The circular room was broken into two discrete sections by a ring of pillars halfway between the wall and the center of the room. They created a reception area in the center and a long, curved walkway on the outside edge.

On the other side of the pillars was an open area. High above, on a huge ceiling dome, was an elaborate painted representation of the Black Days of Eleint. It depicted the secession of Elestam and the slaying of the counts and barons who conspired with the Duchy of Dusk to overthrown the Morkann family—a reminder of how Erlkazar came to be an independent country, separate and autonomous from Tethyr.

On the outside of the pillars were the king’s dais and throne and more than two dozen heavily armed guardsmen. The pillars served to keep the soldiers hidden from the view of visiting dignitaries—present but unobtrusive was the king’s policy. In addition to the bodyguards, the outer ring also held the king’s personal art collection. Paintings and sculptures from all over Faerun were displayed in recessed alcoves along the curved wall. King Korox’s collection was thought to be one of the best and most valuable collections in all Faerun. The king’s favorite story to tell foreign monarchs was about several well-known historical texts in Cormyr. Each of them included descriptions of the destruction and loss of a particular statue of Ondeth Obarskyr that was now in the king’s own possession. He would say even the sands of time couldn’t detract from his collection.

Montauk admired the room as he strode through. Someday, he thought, the Twisted Rune would hold a meeting here. When the country fell to civil war, the capitol would be easy pickings.

He smiled and bowed as he approached the throne. “My lord.”

The king sat atop his gilded throne, a goblet of wine in one hand and an ornate pearl-hilted dagger in the other. He regarded the bowed man with heavy eyes.

“Rise, my subject,” said the king, lifting his goblet off his knee to take a drink of the blood-red wine inside.

Montauk got to his feet, placed his hands together, and bowed his head once more. “Thank you, my lord.”

The king took a large breath, his chest heaving inside his golden breastplate. “You have petitioned my council for what you have called a grave and urgent matter regarding Ahlarkham.”

“That is correct, my lord.” Montauk kept his head slightly bowed, never making eye contact with the monarch.

“Well, out with it, man,” said the king, leaning forward in his throne. “For I much desire to hear news from the realm of my sister, Princess Dijara.”

“The people, my lord,” replied Montauk, “the good farmers, merchants, and fishermen of Ahlarkham are up in arms.”

This got the king’s full attention. “Up in arms? Over what?”

“Over unnecessary taxation, my lord.”

The king waved his hand. “Bah. Taxation is never popular, but it is a necessity. The people will grumble, but they will never revolt over it.”

Montauk raised his eyes. “You don’t think so?”

The king shook his head. “They know that without the baron and the taxes they pay to him they would not have the protection of his army. They would be forced to defend themselves against the dangers that run wild in the countryside.” He waved the pearl-hilted dagger in his hand. “The trolls, goblins, and drow are far worse than any tax. The people know this.”

“This is precisely my point,” said Montauk. He took a step closer to the throne.

The king bristled a little at the move, but he allowed Montauk to stay where he was.

“The people know what it is they are supposed to get for their taxes,” Montauk said. “But they aren’t getting it.”

“Baron Purdun employs a full-time army. He has some of the best soldiers and equipment in all of Erlkazar.” King Korox turned sideways in his throne, shifting his weight onto his hip. “Besides, if he were having trouble keeping the peace he would have sent a message to me or one of the other barons.” He took another sip of his wine. “I have heard of no such communications.”

Montauk took another step forward. “My lord, the vampires have returned.”

The king sat up straight. “The vampires?”

Montauk wrinkled his brow. “Yes, my lord. They have returned, and the people fear for their lives.”

“Why have I not heard of this before?”

“Pride, my lord,” said Montauk. “Perhaps Lord Purdun doesn’t want his king to think he cannot handle this problem.”

The king shook his head. “Purdun is not that sort of man. It’s been only a handful of years since the old kingdom fell. He knows the stories. He was there—he was a Crusader, for gods’ sake.”

“True, true,” said Montauk. “But things have been quiet in Erlkazar for some time. Despite the growing threat, Purdun feels he can deal with the situation without outside help. His reputation as a hero and as a Crusader makes him stubborn and proud. The people know this, and they grow tired of the baron’s attempts to regain his former glory.”

The king placed his goblet on the arm of his throne and scratched his chin. A servant immediately jumped up onto the dais, grabbed the wine, and disappeared. The king sat silently on his throne for several moments, then looked up at the painting in the dome above. He pointed to it.

“The Black Days of Eleint were a direct result of the barons failing to please the whims of the people.” He shook his head. “Morkann failed to see how deeply the dissent of the people ran, and it nearly cost him his life.” He slammed the hilt of his dagger down on the arm of his throne. “That was how Erlkazar came to be a country independent from Tethyr.”

Montauk nodded his agreement. “This is why I bring this problem to you now, my lord, before it is too late.”

The king looked down on Montauk from his dais. “Tell me more.”

“Nightly the town of Duhlnarim comes under attack by the undead. The people have organized a rebellious group called the Crimson Awl. They work to install a real leader in Zerith Hold, one who will protect them and keep their families and farms safe from the vampires.”

The king stood up from his throne, gripping his dagger tightly in one hand. “And I suppose you are that man.”

Montauk bowed. “At your service, my lord.”

“And what would you have me do with Baron Purdun?”

Montauk took another step forward.

The king put his hand up. “That will be quite far enough.”

Montauk nodded. “My sincere pardon, my lord.” He took a step back. “I would suggest you do to Lord Purdun what King Morkann did when faced with the same situation.”

“Place him in irons?” The king scoffed. “You forget, Master Montauk, Baron Purdun is married to my sister. He is part of my own family.”

“Yes, my lord, but the history books are full of stories about monarchs losing power because of the machinations of a greedy relative.”

“Are you suggesting that Lord Purdun is after my throne?”

Montauk shook his head. “No, my lord. Only that to overlook the obvious simply because of family ties is a mistake made frequently by the dispossessed and the dead.”

King Korox sat down on his throne, a look of deep contemplation on his face. He snapped his fingers. In an instant, a servant was at his side, placing a full goblet of wine in his empty hand.

“I will give this matter my utmost consideration, Master Montauk,” said the king. “I thank you for bringing it to my attention.”

Montauk bowed again. “Of course, my lord. I do what I can to serve my country and my king.”

The king waved his hand, and with that, Montauk turned and exited the double doors, the concerned look on his face replaced with a wide smile.

Ryder sat in a ceilingless room—illuminated by starlight—high in the spiraling tower of Fairhaven. He let one leg dangle over the edge of a huge tub of hot water—an extravagance to say the least. The Broken Spear had boiled the water over the fire and carried it in buckets all the way up the stairs to this chamber. Giselle had ordered the water be drawn and had given Ryder the privilege of the first bath.

The tub itself was huge—easily as big as the public baths in Duhlnarim. When he was younger and had thought he could make a life somewhere off the farm, Ryder had taken a job in the nobles’ quarter, cleaning up after the rich people. Scrubbing out the bath basins had been the last straw. The wealthy people of Duhlnarim were far filthier than even the pigs on the farm. He had decided, then and there, knee-deep in a dirty public bath, that he would far rather slop the filth of the animals than the filth of Duhlnarim’s upper class.

His experience made him appreciate just how much work had gone into preparing the bath before him. Somehow, the absurdity of his location and the extra effort required to produce such a lavish thing made it feel that much better. He lowered himself fully into the water, closed his eyes, and took in a deep lungful of warm, humid air.

As the warm water relaxed his muscles, he let his thoughts drift back to Samira. She had always loved baths. She would certainly enjoy this one. When he got back, the first thing he was going to do was take a long bath with her.

He imagined her with him in the giant tub. He though back on baths he had taken with her before. The memories were so vivid he could almost feel her skin on his.

A hand caressed his shoulder and ran up the side of his neck. The sensation sent a warm tingle down his spine. It had been so long since he’d been with a woman, even his fantasies felt real.

The hand massaged the sore muscles on the back of his neck, and Ryder let out a sigh.

“If only,” he said.

“Are you enjoying this?”

Ryder’s eyes shot open. He spun around in the water.

On the floor beside the huge basin sat Giselle. She was wearing only a woven shirt, loose at the neck, that stopped just at the top of her naked thighs.

“Uh…” Ryder said, trying not to linger on the smooth arch of her hip, “hi.”

Giselle smiled and raised an eyebrow. “Hi.” She stood up.

Ryder looked up. She was stunning. With his eyes he traced up her long, soft legs—from her bare feet crossed on the stone edge of the basin, all the way to the edge of her shirt. Above that, the loose neck of the garment was open to the middle of her chest, exposing the subtle curve of her breasts.

Her hair was tied into a knot behind her head, and as she reached up to untie it, the bottom of her shirt lifted up even higher. “Do you mind if I get in?” She let her long black hair fall down over her shoulders.

Ryder felt the same warm tingle run up his spine and spread out across his arms and chest. “Uh… uh…”

Giselle laughed. “I’ll take that as a no.” She lifted her shirt up over her head and let it fall to the floor. She dipped her foot into the warm bath, making little circles in the water with her big toe. Then she crouched at the edge of the gigantic basin and lowered herself in.

Fully submerged to her neck, Giselle splashed the warm water, circling around Ryder as she did. She kept her eyes locked on him the whole time.

“You showed courage out there,” she said, slowly moving her arms back and forth under the water.

Ryder could feel her movements. The waves pressed up against his chest and moved the tiny hairs on his legs. It was as if her hands extended through the water, reaching out to caress his skin.

He looked away from her eyes. “I would say the same about you.”

Giselle moved back into his field of view. “I’m glad you were with us.” She moved closer, putting her hand on his arm.

Ryder looked down at where she was touching him. “You are?”

“Uh-huh.” Giselle slid her fingers down his arm and took his hand. “Come here,” she said, pulling him toward her and placing his hand on her hip.

Ryder felt the urge to pull away, but Giselle stepped in closer, pressing her chest to his. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, and he could feel his heart quicken.

She ran her hands along his back, pushing him against the edge of the tub. Leaning in, she pressed her lips against his. They were soft and warm, and they felt so good. He stood there, letting her kiss him, not knowing exactly what he should do.

She must have sensed his hesitancy because she pulled away.

She looked disappointed. “What is it?”

“It’s just…” He looked into her eyes. In the flickering candlelight the dark brown appeared almost black. They were so deep. “I could get lost in those eyes.”

Ryder reached around her hip and wrapped her up in his arms, pulling her back to him and plunging into a deep kiss. Giselle pressed herself against him, seeming to almost melt in the warm water into his skin.

She placed her head on his shoulder. “What are you thinking?” she asked.

“I’m thinking,” replied Ryder looking once again into her eyes, “that I am a weak, weak man.”

Then, grabbing her with one arm, he lifted the two of them out of the tub and gently pushed Giselle down on top of the warm stone. Starting at her lips, he kissed her skin, following down the arch of her neck.

Giselle closed her eyes and leaned her head back, moaning softly.