Master of Chains (27 page)

The pain momentarily froze Liam in place. It seemed his whole body exploded with sensory overload. At first he couldn’t tell where each of the wounds was. The searing pain jumped out, taking hold of every inch of him. It was a thumping wave that spread out farther and farther until finally it dragged him under.

He stood there unable to move for what seemed an unbearably long time. Then the pain receded, and the world came back. The fight before him took shape, and Liam regained control of his body. He held his left arm close to his ribs. Anything other than having it pressed tightly against his side brought complete agony. He glared at the Magistrates as they readied themselves for another attack. They were like separate parts of the same machine. They moved together, struck together, and for all Liam knew, they thought together.

Liam had on several occasions taken more than one soldier at a time—but not soldiers like these. One Magistrate was easily worth three elite guardsmen. And as Liam sized up the group around him, he started to feel the futility of his situation.

He might die here.

In that moment, Liam could see Samira’s face. He finally had her, and he might lose her again. Anger rose inside Liam. These men were here to take away from him the one thing he had longed for, the one thing he had been unable to have until now. They ceased to be authority figures. They were no longer the king’s messengers. They were here to destroy all that Liam held dear, and he wasn’t going to allow that.

The pain in his ribs and hip was flushed out by a burning hatred for the Magistrates, and Liam saw red. He struck back, raising his sword to eye level and spinning in a quick circle. His blade struck each of the soldiers in turn. Two of them managed to defend themselves against the sudden, whirlwind attack, bring their blades up fast enough to make Liam’s glance away. But despite their good steel and quick reactions, they couldn’t deter his furious swing.

He scored direct hits on each of the other three Magistrates, cutting one across the neck and catching the other two across their shoulders. The move was so sudden and unexpected that the circle of Magistrates surrounding Liam grew wider. Each of the soldiers took a step back, giving Liam more room to move. He had taken away one of their advantages, and the odds didn’t seem so hopeless.

Liam watched the Magistrates regroup. The fact that he was still alive at this point seemed to perplex them. They were obviously not used to drawn-out fights.

Out of nowhere, four spiraling magical blue-white orbs crashed into Magistrate Olivio, and he was thrown farther back, taking two steps before he regained his footing. Two more of the King’s Magistrates sprang into the air. Behind them, Liam could see two of Purdun’s half-giant guardians. They lifted the Magistrates off the ground and over their heads. With a heavy grunt—the only sound Liam had ever heard any of them make—both threw their captives at Magistrate Olivio.

The three heavily armored men crashed into a heap on the ground, clanging and banging as they tumbled around on the floor. Liam couldn’t be certain, but he could have sworn he heard bones breaking mixed in with the rest of the cacophony.

A third half-giant guardian appeared in the hole left by the tossed Magistrates. It reached into the middle of the fray, grabbing Liam with a single hand. It seemed every time he was in this room he was being lifted off his feet by one of Lord Purdun’s bodyguards. This time, however, he didn’t really mind.

The half-giant took a step away and put Liam down near a bookshelf on the edge of the room. Though the creature had likely saved his life, the ride was less than comfortable. The wounds in Liam’s side and hip flared again as he was set down. Liam wasn’t able to keep his feet, and he crumpled into a ball as he came to the floor.

He cringed against the pain. He’d never been hurt so badly in his entire life.

Prying his eyes open, Liam forced himself to look out at the melee in the middle of Lord Purdun’s sitting room. Only two Magistrates remained on their feet. Each now stood face to face with one of Purdun’s half-giant guards. Olivio and the other two conscious Magistrates were disentangling themselves from each other on the opposite side of the room. Behind it all stood Lord Purdun, his hands alight with a fiery orange-yellow glow.

“Magistrate Olivio,” shouted the baron, “I’ll give you another chance,” he said, lifting his hands over his head, a magical flame flickering between them. “Leave here now with your lives. Don’t force me to kill you.”

Just then the double doors blew open, and in charged Captain Beetlestone and the rest of Liam’s old unit. The room filled with elite guardsmen, and they surrounded the Magistrates. Lord Purdun’s troops outnumbered Olivio and his men more than five to one.

Magistrate Olivio dropped his long sword and rose to his feet. “All right, Lord Purdun,” he said. “We will do as you ask.”

The other Magistrates lowered their blades.

Purdun lowered his hands, letting the magical energies he held dissipate harmlessly into the air.

“Captain Beetlestone, please escort these men out of Zerith Hold. You can return their weapons when they are safely outside.”

“Yes, my lord,” said Beetlestone. He and his men collected the Magistrates’ swords and began shuffling them out of the room.

As he left, Magistrate Olivio turned over his shoulder to look at the baron. “I hope for your sake that you are right about this.”

“That makes two of us,” said Purdun.

An army of servants ran around the baron’s sitting room, repairing tables and uprighting chairs. Liam lay on a long, richly appointed couch. Lord Purdun’s personal healer hovered over him, poking at the wounds in his side.

Every time the pudgy, robed man pressed on a wound, Liam drew breath in through his teeth.

Lord Purdun paced along the wall, deep in thought.

The healer poked Liam one last time, then pressed both his hands against his side. Closing his eyes, the cleric whispered some words to himself. Divine energy flowed through the healer’s hand, and Liam let out a huge sigh. The pain in his side slipped away, and Liam was filled with relief.

Getting up off the couch, Liam lifted his arm. There was no pain. And where there had been weeping wounds in his hip, ribs, and forearm, there were now just tiny, pink scars.

“Thank you ” he said.

The healer bowed, then turned and waddled his portly girth over to the half-giant who had succumbed to the strange yellow liquid. Shortly after the fight had ended, the guardian had awoken, getting back to his feet without a single word and returning to his place in the corner.

The healer examined him as Lord Purdun looked on.

After a moment the cleric shrugged. “He appears to be in fine shape. It was probably nothing more than an alchemical sleeping draught.” The portly man turned to the baron. “If I had to guess, I would say it’s a common tool of the Magistrates. Much easier to subdue criminals if they are dead asleep.”

Purdun grunted his understanding then turned and walked over to Liam.

“You all right?” he asked.

Liam nodded. “I think so.”

“Good.” He looked Liam in the eye and he cracked a smile. “You know, I’ve never seen a man take on six Magistrates by himself before.” He started to laugh. “Either that was the bravest thing I’ve ever witnessed—or the stupidest. I’m not sure which.”

Liam performed a shallow bow. “At your service.”

Purdun smiled and slapped Liam on the arm.

“My lord,” said Liam. “Do you think the king will do as you’ve asked? Even after we sent his Magistrates home in such poor shape?”

“Well” said the baron, pondering for a long moment. “I don’t honestly know. He probably wouldn’t believe me. This whole story is starting to sound too unimaginable.” Purdun shrugged. “But no matter what, we’re under a lot more pressure now. Shyressa has put her plan in motion. The appearance of the vampires just before a visit from the King’s Magistrates is no coincidence. We must be vigilant. If we are not, it will likely cost all of us our lives.”

The Royal Herald of Erlkazar pushed open the double doors to King Korox’s throne room. When he reached the middle of the round woven Zakharan rug that dominated the center of the room, he bowed as he had thousands of times before.

“My lord, King of all five baronies and the Kingdom of Erlkazar,” said the herald, “I present to you Magistrate Olivio.”

King Korox lowered his goblet of wine to the table beside his throne and sat up straight. Olivio had returned early. This matter was going to require a smooth and diplomatic hand. His sister was going to be none too happy with him for having apprehended her husband.

Korox grunted. Purdun was going to be none too happy with him for apprehending him. But they were old friends. They had been in the Crusaders together. Surely he would indulge his king and close friend.

Through the door Magistrate Olivio entered. He walked across the round room, bowing in the center of the rug as was customary, then continued to approach the throne. Officers in the King’s Magistrates were the only soldiers in the kingdom allowed to approach the throne without first being given permission. It was they who were charged with keeping the laws of the land. It was their steel that kept the king safe from assassins and power-hungry nobles from other lands. If he couldn’t trust them, who could he trust?

As Olivio came near, King Korox noticed that the man’s face was battered and bruised. He also appeared to be walking with a slight limp.

The king stood up. “What happened to you? Were you ambushed? Where’s Purdun?”

Magistrate Olivio shook his head. “No, my lord, we were not ambushed. We were bested by Lord Purdun and his guardsmen. The baron did not accompany us back. He is holed up inside Zerith Hold.”

“What!” shouted the king. He was fuming. “He disobeyed a direct order from my Magistrates?”

Olivio nodded. “Yes, my lord. He did.”

“Did he deny the accusations?”

Magistrate Olivio shook his head. “No, my lord. Baron Purdun acknowledged that the vampires had indeed returned, and that they were causing problems in Ahlarkham. He further acknowledged that there was a group of revolutionaries stirring up the locals.”

“And he still refused to be escorted to Llorbauth?”

“Yes, my lord. He said that if your highness was indeed worried about the reappearance of the undead causing a peasant uprising then you should be sending troops to aid him, not to bring him in.”

King Korox scratched his chin. “I see. Did he say anything else?”

“Yes, my lord. He said that taking him out of Ahlarkham was an attempt by the vampires to get him out of the way so that Ahlarkham would be leaderless during an all-out assault.”

“What is your opinion of all this, Olivio?”

The Magistrate thought for a moment. “My lord, his story is far-fetched.”

“Yes it is. But Purdun is not the type to exaggerate or to make things up.”

“That is my opinion of Baron Purdun as well, my lord,” replied the Magistrate.

King Korox turned around and lifted his still-full goblet of wine off the table. Lifting it to his lips, he downed the entire thing in one large gulp. Wiping his face with the sleeve of his robes he turned back to Olivio.

“All right. Prepare the rest of the Magistrates,” he ordered. “And bring me my armor. We march to Ahlarkham.”

The trip back to Duhlnarim was long. The Broken Spear was in the habit of traveling discreetly, which suited Ryder’s purposes. He was close to returning. The journey had begun. He had waited this long; he could wait a few days longer.

Giselle led the group through land that Ryder never would have guessed was passable. They must have traversed every possible hidden route and passage between the Giant’s Plain and the Deepwash. Twice, while traveling past the borders of Impresk—and once again in the foothills outside of Carrelath—they effortlessly bypassed armed patrols of King Korox’s soldiers without causing so much as a raised eyebrow. The soldiers of the Broken Spear were ghosts passing through the mortal realm, visiting but not leaving a trace.

As they crossed over from the hills of Carrelath and into the familiar borders of Ahlarkham, Ryder felt a tremendous joy fill him. Soon he would be embracing his mother. Soon he would be seeing his younger brother.

And soon he would gaze once again upon Samira.

The thought of his wife brought with it as much sadness as it did joy. He had missed her so. But he didn’t know what he was going to tell her about Giselle. He didn’t know how she would react. She might not want him back if he told her the truth, but he couldn’t think of resuming his life with her without being honest.

Then there was Giselle. She was even more of an unknown. How would she react to seeing Ryder with Samira? Ryder didn’t know which he feared more, having to fight Lord Purdun’s elite guard or having to face the two women in his life.

“Now that you are home again,” said Nazeem, interrupting Ryder’s introspection somewhere in Tanistan, north of Five Spears Hold, “what will you do first? Kiss your beautiful wife?” The Chultan raised his eyebrows.

Ryder shook his head, glad for the intrusion. “I have unfinished business with Baron Purdun.”

“You will go risk your life for your cause before you will go tell your family you are alive?”

“Believe me, if I could, I’d go to them straight away,” said Ryder, “but then I would have to leave them again.” Ryder could see that Nazeem didn’t understand, so he continued. “If Purdun found out I had returned, there would be a huge price on my head. Every bounty hunter and guardsman in the barony would be after me.” He shook his head. “Until the baron is dead, I will never be at peace. Besides, the fewer people who. know I have returned, the easier it will be.”

“The easier what will be?” asked Nazeem.

Ryder smiled. “Sneaking into Zerith Hold and killing Lord Purdun.”

Nazeem craned his neck to look back at the men and women of the Broken Spear. “How do you intend to sneak all of us into the baron’s stronghold?”

“I don’t,” said Ryder. “I’m going in by myself.”