Master of Chains (3 page)

The young man, the son of a local merchant, had never been on one of the raids before. He hadn’t heard a word Ryder said. His eyes were focused on the road and his right hand gripped the hilt of his long sword so tightly his knuckles were turning white. A line of sweat had started to form along the edge of his golden blond hair, and he looked a little pale. Liam could have sworn he was shaking.

Ryder must have noticed it too. “Don’t worry,” he said, smiling at Kharl. “You won’t even have to use your sword.”

Kharl nodded hesitantly. “But what if they give us trouble?”

Ryder shrugged. “Then I suppose you’ll get the opportunity to use your sword after all.”

Kharl shook his head. “No. I mean, what if they don’t give us the letter? What do we do then?”

Jarl, a great big bear of a man with a tattoo of a mermaid on each forearm, spoke up. “We take it from them, lad.”

The other men nodded their agreement.

“But…” Kharl stuttered. “But… do we… ?”

Ryder put his hand on the young man’s shoulder. “Kharl, I won’t ask you to kill anyone in cold blood, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Kharl nodded, his shoulders relaxing a bit.

“But if things do get out of hand, you may have to defend yourself.” Ryder suddenly got serious. “If that happens, if you find yourself in the position where it’s your life or his—” Ryder looked up at each of the other men, his eyes lingering on Liam a moment longer than the rest, then back at Kharl— “Then I expect you to kill that man dead. I won’t be losing anyone on this raid. Is that understood?”

Kharl nodded, and the other men grunted their assent.

“Good.” Ryder chuckled, and the moment of seriousness passed. “You know, Kharl, you can do me a favor.”

“Really? What?”

“Your mother makes the best beef stew in all of Erlkazar. When you get back, see if you can’t get her to make a pot and invite Samira and me over for dinner.”

The worry on Kharl’s face faded. “All right, Ryder. I’ll do that.”

Liam shook his head. His brother had always had a way with people. “Hey, Kharl.”

The blond man leaned back to look at Liam. “Yeah?”

“I want some of that stew too.”

Kharl threw his arms out wide. “You’re all invited.”

The sound of horses and wheels grew louder as it came around the bend, transforming into a well-appointed carriage pulled by a pair of majestic-looking horses draped in the livery of Lord Purdun. The coach wasn’t in any hurry. The doors were painted with the familiar shield-and-double-crossed-sword crest that turned Liam’s stomach every time he saw it. It was the official seal of Lord Purdun, the owner and master of the land on which all of Liam’s family and friends lived and had to pay taxes for.

Just as Ryder had said, there were only two guards and the driver. Whoever rode inside was concealed by velvet drapes covering the windows. Liam imagined the occupant was some corpulent, bloated diplomat with a double chin and greasy fingers. Who better to deliver a letter of alliance from the bastard Lord Purdun to one of the other regional barons?

The carriage drew near, and Ryder rose onto the balls of his feet, still hidden from the road by the tall brush. He held his hands to his face and whispered to Liam, “Before you can truly move forward, you have to be willing to live with the consequences.”

Then Ryder smiled and looked at the other men. “It’s time to give it to old Firefist.” He dropped into a deep crouch, then sprang out of the bush. “Now!” he shouted, pulling his long sword from its sheath as he came down in front of the carriage.

Liam didn’t hesitate. He was the second of the eight men to reach the road and draw his weapon, taking his position beside his brother.

As Liam had expected, the horses were startled by the sudden appearance of armed men on the road. They bucked, and the driver had to struggle to keep control of them.

“Halt!” shouted Ryder, holding his palm out to the coach.

The other men leaped out of their hiding spots—two more up front, the final four behind, boxing in the coach on the packed dirt road.

The guards on top of the carriage had to hold on to the seat to avoid being tossed from their perch. But as the horses came to a stop, they stood up and drew their weapons.

“Don’t be foolish,” shouted Ryder. “We’re eight. You’re only two. Just drop your weapons and give us the letter you carry, and there will be no need for you to be harmed.”

Liam wished he were as eloquent as his older brother. No wasted effort, no beating around the bush, just the facts, plain and simple.

The guards stood motionless, still gripping their swords. They looked far more relaxed than Liam thought they should. Hells, they looked more relaxed than he felt.

“I said ‘drop your weapons!’ ” shouted Ryder. He stepped to the side of the carriage, the afternoon sun glinting on his polished blade.

The guards looked at each other, then tossed their weapons to the ground.

“The letter is inside,” said one of the guards, lifting his hands into the air. “The countess carries it. Please don’t harm her. We’re responsible for her safety.”

Ryder glanced back at Liam, a smirk on his face. Then he nodded. Without a word, Liam followed his brother to the side of the carriage.

Ryder knocked on the wooden door with the hilt of his sword. The heavy pounding scratched the paint, marring the jade green and royal blue of Lord Purdun’s crest.

The door remained closed.

Liam spared a glance back at Kharl. The young man was shifting his weight from side to side, but he kept his gaze squarely on the two guards, his sword drawn, just as he’d been instructed to do. Tonight, in the pub, the young man would be telling stories of his own bravery, and the nervousness he felt now would be nothing but a distant memory.

Ryder knocked on the door again. “We seek only the letter you carry,” he said. “Surrender it, and you will not be harmed.”

Still the door remained shut.

Ryder’s simple smile faded and was replaced with a look of serious contemplation. It was a dangerous look. Liam had seen it many times—whenever his older brother didn’t get his way. Liam had feared that look since they were both little boys. It meant Ryder had reached his limit. It meant he no longer intended to play nice.

“Countess, this will be your last warning,” said Ryder. “You have until the count of three to come out and give us that letter, or we will come in.”

Liam gripped his sword. This was not the way they had hoped it would go.

“One…”

Time seemed to slow down. Liam could hear his heart pound in his chest. They had known this was a possibility, but nobody wanted this to get rough.

“Two…”

The door burst open and slapped against the wall of the carriage. Right behind it poured out a half-dozen of Lord Purdun’s guards. Six more jumped out the door on the opposite side.

Ryder’s sword came up and parried the first guard’s blow as he backpedaled away from the carriage. “It’s a trap!”

The other men jumped into action.

Liam stepped up beside his brother, stopping Ryder’s retreat. The two of them lunged forward.

Unable to stop the onrush, the guard’s eyes went wide. He managed to bash aside Liam’s blade, but he was too slow to catch Liam’s brother’s. The tip of Ryder’s long sword found a crease in the man’s half-plate and sank into the flesh below. Twisting sideways, the guardsman pulled himself off the blade like a piece of skewered beef, dropping his sword and giving way to the five armored men behind him.

The baron’s elite guards encircled the brothers, three training their swords on Ryder, and two on Liam. Liam spun around, placing his back against Ryder’s. This wasn’t the first time they had fought like this. Liam hoped it wouldn’t be their last. Both men began turning a slow circle, holding their attackers back at sword point.

Standing there in the middle of a ring of armed soldiers, the eye in the middle of an oncoming storm, Liam caught sight of Kharl. The young man was battling the two carriage guards. They had regained their dropped swords and had locked the young man into combat. One was circling around to the side, attempting to pin Kharl between them. For a relatively inexperienced fighter, Kharl was holding his own. He parried a blow from each side, then took a large step back, keeping the guards from flanking him. Despite the young man’s terrific effort, he was still losing ground. He was in a fight he couldn’t win. He just didn’t realize it yet.

Liam scanned the area, hoping someone else could get to Kharl before it was too late, but the other men were busy with guards of their own. Counting the carriage drivers, there were fourteen armed elite guardsmen to eight freedom fighters. Kharl was on his own.

If the men they fought were just hired toughs, this wouldn’t be an issue. Liam would put anyone in the Crimson Awl up against two local thugs. It would be no contest. But the baron’s elite guards were trained soldiers. They had good weapons and the best armor—and they knew how to win a fight.

The sound of Ryder’s sword bashing aside a guard’s blade brought Liam back to the fight at hand.

A pair of soldiers rushed the brothers, one on each side. Ryder stepped left, Liam right. They moved together like a multi-headed creature sharing a single spine. Their blades moved in perfect harmony, striking out at different foes. Liam didn’t need to see what his brother was doing. They had been practicing this style of fighting since they were young.

Liam held a tree branch tightly in both hands. It was his eighth birthday. As a present, his uncle had made him a toy wooden sword. That sword was now in the hands of Tyler, the local bully.

Liam could feel his brother’s back against his as they turned a slow circle, looking out at Tyler and his three friends.

“Don’t worry, Liam,” reassured Ryder, also with a branch in his hands. ‘I’m a good fighter, so you will be too.”

Liam nodded his head. If his big brother said it, it must be true. “All right.”

“Hey, Liam,” taunted Tyler. “You want this?” He shook the toy sword in Liam’s face.

Liam’s chest burned with hate.

“Don’t fall for it, Liam,” directed Ryder. “Let them make the first move.”

“What? Are you scared?” Tyler laughed. “Too afraid to come get your little toy from me?”

Liam gripped the branch tighter in his hands. He wanted so badly to swing it, to bring it down on Tyler’s head and make him give back his birthday present. But more than anything, Liam trusted his older brother.

“What’s the matter, Tyler?” taunted Ryder. “You’ve got us outnumbered. Looks like you’re the one who is scared.”

Tyler lifted Liam’s wooden sword over his head. “I’ll show you who’s scared.” Then he came running right at Ryder.

The three other young thugs followed the bully’s lead and came rushing in.

Liam felt something in the pit of his stomach clench, then he lost control. His arms reacted without his willing them to. He watched as the branch swung wildly from side to side. The whole thing didn’t seem real. He wasn’t in control, and he didn’t know the outcome. All he knew for sure was that his brother’s back against his was the most reassuring feeling in the whole world.

From behind him Liam heard a loud crack, and just like that the whole thing was over. The young punks retreated, not wanting to get hit by a flailing branch. Liam stopped swinging when they took a step back. Then he followed their gazes over his shoulder.

Tyler lay on the ground, blood pouring from his nose, Liam’s sword on the ground beside him.

“I’ll take that,” said Ryder. He picked up the birthday gift. The branch he held in his other hand was broken in two.

Ryder turned and grabbed Liam by the shoulder. “Come on,” he said. “I think they have had enough.”

Liam’s blade danced, parrying blows. He could feel his brother’s back against his own. Despite their teamwork, the guards they fought were not going to fall for any cheap tricks. They came in at the same time, thrusting in short bursts, trying to overpower the brothers. They kept Liam off balance, never giving him an opening. It was all he could do to defend himself.

The guard to his left feinted high then went low. Liam brought his sword down, smashing the attack to the dirt. The other guard came in high. Liam dodged to the side, bringing his sword up in a long arc and bashing away his opponent’s blade with a flourish. The two elite guardsmen took a step back, regained their composure, then lunged together. Liam snapped the forte of his blade around in a short circle, catching the tips of both blades with his and flinging them toward the sky. Had there been only one attacker, Liam would have lunged for a riposte. As it was, he’d be opening himself up to one of the two guards, so he held tight. He wouldn’t fall for the ploy. He could hear Ryder’s voice inside his head, “Let them make the first mistake.”

This back and forth dragged on for what seemed like an eternity. The guards would rush, and Liam would fight them back, threaten a bit, and make them retreat. Then they would return with a different strategy.

Liam could feel Ryder step, lunge, retreat, parry, then lunge again. From the pattern, he could tell that his brother was fairing similarly with his three. Defense was one thing, but there was no way they were going to win the fight if they didn’t make some headway soon.

“In the name of Lord Purdun, surrender now, and you won’t be harmed,” shouted one of the guardsmen.

“Never,” replied Ryder.

Behind him, Liam could feel his brother pick up the pace.

Just hearing Purdun’s name made Liam’s blood run hot with anger. He moved quicker, matching Ryder.

The guardsmen came in again. Liam dodged both blows in swift order.

Then he made his first mistake.

Stepping away from his brother, he lunged, sticking the tip of his long sword into the hip of the soldier on his right. The man wailed and stepped back, but the other guardsman took advantage of the opening, swinging his sword at Liam’s exposed middle.

Liam retreated, bashing aside the first attack, but the soldier pressed his advantage, swinging his sword again. The second blow slipped past Liam’s guard, catching him in the shoulder. His chain mail tunic took the brunt of the attack, but the tip ran up under the short sleeves, cutting a shallow wound into his arm. Liam hissed at the pain, pulling sideways and away from his brother.