by Jess Lebow
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.
Ryder spun around, knowing his little brother had been hit. “Liam!”
Liam pulled his arm in toward his side, trying to minimize the pain, but in doing so, opened up his back. Two of the guardsmen lunged at the same time, taking advantage of his exposed body. Liam swung down with his right hand, trying to parry, but his wounded arm slowed him down.
Both blades came in, slipping past his defense.
Liam tightened his gut, preparing for pain. Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of Ryder’s sword. It came out of nowhere, a silvery flash that caught one guardsman across the forearm and slapped aside the other’s blade. With his off hand, Ryder shoved Liam out of the circle.
Liam stumbled forward, crashing into the guard he’d already injured. The two of them fell to the ground. Liam tucked his sword up tight against his body as they tumbled across the dirt. When they came to a stop, he rolled forward with all of his might, pushing away from the soldier. He somersaulted twice then leaped to his feet, twenty paces from where he had begun. The guard’s heavier armor had weighed him down, and he struggled to get up from his back like an upside-down turtle.
“Run, Liam!”
Liam looked back at his brother. Ryder was surrounded by four guards with no one watching his back. He turned a quick circle, brandishing his blade to keep the guardsmen at bay.
Liam took two steps toward his brother.
“Watch out,” shouted Ryder.
Liam looked down just in time to see the injured guardsman on the ground swing at his ankles. He leaped into the air, jumping over the blade. Coming down on the prone soldier, he drove the tip of his long sword through the man’s helm, pinning his head to the ground.
Putting his boot on the fallen soldier’s shoulder, Liam pulled his weapon from the ruined skull then turned to help his brother. Ryder lunged at one guard just as another lunged at him. His blade hit its mark, driving deep into the soldier’s neck. But the guardsman’s blade also struck home, slicing Ryder across the belly.
“Ryder!” Liam broke into a run.
Ryder dropped to one knee, his left arm holding his stomach, his hand covered in blood. He gazed down at the wound in his belly then up at Liam. He looked so sad, so scared, like a lost child. Liam had never seen his brother like that, and it sent a shiver down his spine.
Liam skidded to a stop.
“Run, Liam,” said Ryder, his voice raspy and strained. He pointed away from the carriage with his chin. “Go.” Then he turned his attention back to Lord Purdun’s elite guardsmen.
Liam was frozen in place, unable to move. He just stood there, watching his brother’s blood spill to the ground.
Ryder couldn’t stand, but he held the remaining three guardsmen at bay from his knees. He swung his long sword in a wide arc, then jabbed at them with the sharp tip. Each strike was accompanied by another splash of Ryder’s blood. The ground was painted with the stuff.
The guards took a large step back, and Ryder turned to look at Liam.
“Look after Samira. Tell her I love her.”
With Ryder’s attention turned away, the biggest of the three guardsmen charged forward.
The blood in Liam’s veins ran cold. “Ryder, look out!”
“Run, Liam.” Ryder turned and brought his blade up into the guard’s gut.
The big man let out a screech as he impaled himself. Ryder held the hilt of his sword as best as he could, but the guardsman in all his armor was just too heavy, and the soldier fell forward, smothering Ryder.
For a moment, every inch of Liam’s body tingled. It was as if he were trying to fight against the forward movement of time, and it tore at his skin. This was the moment in which he would lose his brother. This was the moment of his greatest failure, and he desperately wanted to go back, to stop everything before this instant, to replay the moments of his life over and over again, always stopping before he reached this part.
Four more soldiers came around the back of the carriage.
Liam stood there stunned, the fibers of his body struggling to keep him rooted in time—but it was no use. This was a fight he could not win.
The other guards wasted no time, charging in, stabbing at Ryder’s prone body. Liam winced, the wounds of his brother stinging doubly for Liam. He wished desperately that it could be him lying there on the ground. He wished he could trade places with his brother, take his place under the killing blows of the guardsmen.
His face grew hot, and he began to see red. This trap was yet further proof of the treachery of Lord Purdun. Liam’s lip curled up into a sneer. His body was steeled by the hatred and pain now coursing through his body. The baron would pay for this. But first, his guardsmen would all be sent to Hell. Liam lifted his sword.
“Liam …” came a strangled voice.
It was Kharl. The young man was still alive, but he was bleeding from a large wound in his side.
“Liam, please help me.”
Liam looked back at Ryder. His brother had stopped moving. He lay on the ground, his torso bent back over his heels and his hand still clutching the hilt of his sword. The big guardsman lay on top of him, impaled on the tip of his blade. The fury t
hat had momentarily taken hold of Liam suddenly fled. His hatred turned to sadness, and his arms felt tired and weak.
“I’ll tell her,” he said. “I’ll make sure she knows.”
With what little strength remained in his body, Liam turned away from his brother and helped Kharl up from the ground. With the young man’s arm over his shoulder, Liam took off into the forest, leaving the carriage and the bodies of the other six men behind.
CHAPTER 2
Kharl groaned as his weight settled against a large tree. He was bleeding from a jagged cut down the right side of his ribcage and a puncture wound in his thigh.
Liam peered out around the tree, watching for Lord Purdun’s guardsmen, but the only things behind them were more trees and the memories of what had just happened.
“Who else?”
Liam looked down at Kharl. “What?”
“Who else escaped?”
Liam shook his head. “Just us.”
Kharl lowered his head, his chin touching his chest, and sobbed. “I knew it. I knew this was a bad idea.”
Liam shook his head. “Someone set us up. They knew about our plans.”
Kharl ignored him. “What were we thinking? How can we ever beat Purdun? All this revolution, all this freedom for the people of Duhlnarim, is just going to get us killed.” Kharl slid down the tree to the ground, his chest quivering and his sobs cutting off his words. “Damn … Purdun … Damn … Ryder … Damn … you Liam …”
Liam dropped into a crouch, grabbing Kharl by the shoulders and looking him in the eyes. “Pull yourself together.” He shook the young man. “I know you’re scared, but pull yourself together. Ryder is dead, all right. Do you hear me? Dead!” He let go of Kharl. “And I won’t have you damning him now.”
Kharl lowered his eyes, covering his face with his hands as he continued to cry. “I don’t want to do this anymore. I just want this to be over.”
Liam wanted to comfort the young man, but the image of his brother collapsing under the falling guardsman played over in his mind. The heavy pang of guilt that he felt over not being able to save him pushed to the surface. The pain inside welled up and began to boil, a deep ache that grew from the very center of his chest and spread out to squeeze his stomach, arms, and throat. It threatened to strangle him, and for a moment, Liam wished it would.