Master of Chains

by Jess Lebow

  Ryder pointed to his own forehead. “What does this mean?”

  Nazeem rubbed the blue triangle with his index finger. “This is the mark they give you in Mezro when you break the law.”

  “Mezro? You are Chultan then?”

  Nazeem nodded. “Born and bred.”

  “What were you doing all the way out in Erlkazar?”

  Nazeem smiled. “I have told you this already. I was a smuggler.”

  Ryder chuckled. “Yes, I know. But why did you leave Chult? Why go so far from home?”

  “Mezro is a peaceful city. No one there even carries a weapon. If the undying Chosen of Ubtao catch you breaking the law, they brand you with this tattoo and throw you out of the city.” Nazeem’s smile faded. “I had to leave the Chultan peninsula in order to survive. No one will deal with you if you have been shamed by this mark. So I decided to go someplace where nobody knew or cared what it meant.”

  The two men walked on for a while in silence. Then Ryder spoke up. “Nazeem?”

  “Yes?”

  “What was your crime?”

  Nazeem seemed to think about the question for a moment. Then, “I killed a man.”

  Ryder thought back on all of Lord Purdun’s guards he’d faced in hand to hand combat. Many of them had died by his hand. “Did he deserve it?”

  Nazeem only nodded.

  More or less, Nazeem’s story was the same as Ryder’s. He’d been thrown out of his home for committing what the baron considered to be a crime. Ryder didn’t see his actions as criminal. They were necessary. They were the means of a revolutionary. If his oppressor was going to slowly kill the citizens by taking their food and taxing their wages, then he would respond by killing them back.

  The caravan came to a U-shaped bend in the road. The path led up north, farther into the mountains. The south side of the curve was defined by a forest of tall, prickly trees, each standing thirty or more feet tall. A pair of Broken Spear warriors stood in front of the trees, holding back the branches and ushering people single file through to the other side.

  Nazeem went first. Ryder ducked his head and followed him through the foliage. There were several rows of these trees, and their branches were covered with long, needle-sharp thorns. At each new row of trees, another pair of Broken Spear warriors stood holding back the branches. The treacherous tunnel was difficult to navigate, made doubly so by Ryder’s limp, beaten body. More than once he felt his flesh tear as it caught on the thorns.

  As Ryder finally came out of the trees to stand next to Nazeem, he straightened his back and found himself looking up at a huge multitiered stone palace, seemingly carved right into the side of the mountain.

  “Gods,” said Ryder under his breath.

  “Giants,” corrected a voice.

  Ryder turned to see the young robed bandit leader standing beside him and Nazeem.

  “Welcome to Fairhaven.” The robed leader pulled down the mask that covered his head, revealing long dark hair, mocha skin, and a smooth, hairless face. The leader of the bandits wasn’t a boy. “I’m Giselle.”

  She extended her hand in greeting.

  Ryder looked at Nazeem, then back at the lithe woman standing before him. There were women in the Crimson Awl. He’d fought beside them on many occasions. But none of them looked like Giselle. She was beautiful, and her eyes had a keen sharpness to them. It made Ryder feel as if she could anticipate his thoughts. The combination of these two things was so powerful that Ryder was at a loss for words.

  She cocked her head to one side, looking from one man to the other. “Are you unfamiliar with this custom?” She reached out and took Ryder’s hand in hers, shaking it up and down. “Taking a proffered hand is a show of greetings and friendship.”

  “Uh, yes, of course,” said Ryder, stuttering a bit. “I’m Ryder.”

  Giselle smiled. “Nice to meet you, Ryder.” She let go of his hand and offered hers to Nazeem.

  The Chultan took it and bowed his head. “They call me Nazeem.”

  “A pleasure,” said Giselle. She turned to face the huge spiraling stone stairs that led up into the palace in front of them. “This used to be the home of a powerful stone giant clan. But it’s abandoned now, so the Broken Spear call it home.” She turned and headed for the huge, four-foot-tall steps.

  Giselle put her fingers to her lips and let out a rolling whistle, as Ryder had seen her do after the battle on the plain. From high above came a response—a similar whistle but much lower pitched. A rope appeared from the second level of the palace, with something dangling from it. As it came closer to the ground, Ryder realized that the something was actually a pair of small ladders.

  Giselle stepped forward and took them off the rope, then gave it a quick tug. The rope shot back up into the sky.

  “Come,” she said, waving for them to follow. “It’s not much farther.” Placing the first ladder against the stone, she climbed to the next step.

  CHAPTER 11

  Liam drifted in and out of consciousness. The only hint that time was passing in the dark, foul-smelling dungeon was the slow drip of water, the occasional exploratory scratching of the rodents, and the rumbling of his empty stomach. He’d been down in the dungeon for what must have been several days. To Liam, it felt like more than a month. His arms and legs were chained to the wall, and though he had enough slack to move around, there was nowhere for him to go. Even if there were, the room was in complete darkness.

  So Liam had taken to sitting on the floor against the wall, trying to sleep just to pass the time. With no light and consumed by absolute boredom, it wasn’t hard to drift off into blissful nothingness. But it was difficult to stay there. The hard stone was cold and it dug into his flesh. He would wake up what seemed like every few moments with a new pain in his neck or side or back. And he would shiver.

  From time to time, one of the rodents would become emboldened and try to take a nibble out of him. They didn’t bite hard at first, just testing to see if he tasted good. But a couple of times he was brought kicking out of his disoriented slumber by a sharp pain and the sound of squealing as the creature who had tasted his flesh was booted and went flying across the cell.

  During the times when sleep did not come to him, Liam thought about Ryder. He missed his brother. More than anything, he just wished he could see him one last time, spend one more evening at the Broken Flagon Inn drinking mead and reminiscing over their childhood. He had never contemplated a life without Ryder, and now that it was here he didn’t know what to do. He felt as though in the two months since his brother’s death, he’d been simply drifting. Life had happened to him. He had no control, and he didn’t want any. To have control meant that he knew where he wanted to go. But he didn’t.

  It hurt to think about his brother and the fact that he was gone. But it hurt more to think about the day when that pain would drift away. He didn’t ever want to stop grieving for Ryder. That aching was all that he had left, and if he couldn’t have Ryder back, then he would hang on to that pain forever if he could.

  After a time sitting in the darkness, his thoughts wandered, and he must have dozed off again. The sound of the bolt sliding startled him awake. The next thing he knew the door to his cell was opening, and a blinding light filled his vision. He held up his arm to block it. His eyes burned and watered as he peered around the back of his hand to see Captain Beetlestone and a pair of guardsmen, each holding a torch, step through the threshold.

  “You have visitors,” said Beetlestone. The captain leaned down and unlocked the chains that held Liam to the stone wall. “Get up.”

  Liam rolled to one side and lifted himself off the ground. It was harder than he imagined it would be. His legs were sluggish, and his joints complained at the effort.

  “How long have I been down here?” asked Liam, struggling.

  “More than a tenday,” said Beetlestone. The captain grabbed Liam under the arms and helped him get to his feet.

  Liam wobbled a bit, his legs tingling and n
umb.

  “Here,” said Beetlestone, handing Liam a small package wrapped in a handkerchief.

  Liam, transferring his weight back and forth between his legs in an attempt to get feeling back in them, grabbed hold of the package and unwrapped it. Inside, he found a whole loaf of country bread. He didn’t waste any time in tearing into the crusty loaf and shoving large bites into his mouth. The hunger pangs were just another constant reminder of how messed up Liam’s life had become. He filed them next to his sorrow and his aching body. But now that he had food, his empty stomach became all he could think about. He devoured the bread in great bites.

  “Slow down,” warned Beetlestone. “If you keep eating at that rate, it’ll come right back up.”

  His mouth full, Liam stopped chewing and took in a big breath through his nose. He finished the bite and swallowed. “So, who wants to see me?”

  “You’ll find out soon enough,” said Beetlestone. “Come on.”

  A cold chill ran down Liam’s spine. This couldn’t be good.

  His loaf in one hand, Liam followed Beetlestone out of the cell and down the hall. The guard captain led him into a large room at the far end.

  Obviously Purdun didn’t want whoever it was to see how they had been keeping Liam. Though this new room was still a cell, it was much larger and cleaner than the one Liam had just been in, and there were barred windows high up in the walls that let in fresh air. Liam took in a lungful of the stuff. It felt so good.

  In the middle of the room, hanging from the ceiling, were at least a dozen sets of shackles. Unlike the chains in his last cell, these didn’t allow the prisoners to sit on the ground. Beetlestone gently nudged Liam toward the hanging shackles.

  “Left,” he said, grabbing at Liam’s wrist.

  Liam complied, too tired to fight back.

  “So, what do you think of our dungeon now?” quipped the captain.

  Though the remark was meant to sting, Liam could tell Beetlestone didn’t really put his heart in it. His voice was somehow sad, almost apologetic.

  When Liam was securely fastened to the ceiling, the captain and his two guards exited the room, leaving the wooden door wide open. Once they were gone, Liam gave the chains a hard tug. They rattled against each other, swaying back and forth, but they held him fast. Letting the chains hold his weight, he leaned forward, holding his arms out to his sides. Up on his tiptoes, he twisted to one side then the other, feeling a little bit like a child on a playground. His mind had wandered for days on end, and now he finally had some light and something to play with. If he was going to be held against his will, at least he could entertain himself.

  Standing up straight, he broke another piece off the loaf of bread and stuffed it in his mouth. Though it wasn’t very pleasing, it did satisfy his grumbling stomach.

  From down the hall Liam heard footsteps. Then two people appeared in the door.

  “Gods. Look at you, Liam.”

  Liam lowered his head. He had expected some sort of interrogator, someone who would try to coax information out of him now that he’d had some time to suffer in the dungeon. He didn’t expect this.

  “Hello, Mother.”

  Angeline came running into the room only to stop several steps before her son. “Are you all right?”

  Liam looked at himself. His clothes were filthy. He smelled, and he was slouched from having spent the last few days sleeping on a stone floor. “What do you think?”

  Angeline put her hand to her mouth, and tears welled up in her eyes.

  Liam instantly regretted his gruff response. “I’m fine. A little worse for the wear, but I’ll live.”

  “That’s what you get for being involved with those Awl,” said Douglas.

  Liam looked up at his father. “Now that I’m chained up you’ve come to finish that fight, pop?”

  “Stop it,” interjected Angeline. “Both of you.” She looked at Douglas then turned and put her hands on Liam’s shoulders, trying to calm the situation.

  Liam glared over her at his father. He hated the man. He’d never had the courage to even think that before. In his exhaustion, he’d lost his inhibitions, his fears over the consequences of having such thoughts. He had been afraid of what the other farmers in Duhlnarim would think about him if they knew his secret feelings for the man who had brought him into the world. But sitting for more than a tenday in a stone-walled dungeon had given him plenty of time to fear much larger things. He had very little left to lose, and this man no longer scared him.

  “Then why did you come?” he asked, not lowering his eyes.

  “One of Purdun’s guardsmen came and asked us to,” replied the old man, staring back at Liam, a look of disgust on his face.

  “We came because we were worried about you,” interjected his mother. “You just disappeared. We didn’t know where you were. We thought maybe you’d been killed on one of those stupid raids, like Ryder.”

  The sound of his brother’s name made Liam break his staring contest with his father. He took a step back from his mother.

  “Ryder died fighting for what he believed in,” he said, not raising his voice. It hurt him to hear her belittle Ryder’s sacrifice. “You both are just too stupid or thoughtless to recognize that.”

  “Oh, Liam.” Angeline began to cry.

  Douglas put his arm around her. “See what you did?” he shouted.

  Liam looked at them both. He was tired of feeling sorry for them. “What do you want from me? Why did you come here?”

  “We just came,” said Angeline, trying to hold back a sob, “to try to talk some sense into you.”

  “Well,” said Liam, holding his arms out to make the chains shake, “I’m a captive audience. Talk all you like.” He leaned back, falling backward until the chains caught him, holding him off the ground by his wrists.

  Liam hung there, his head resting back, his eyes closed, smiling to himself. He’d never been able to tell his folks off like that. There was no guilt, no fear of reprisal, none of the feelings he’d had when getting in a fight with his parents as a child. His captivity had changed him. The chains of the dungeon had set him free. Despite the aches in his bones, and the weakness from lack of sleep, Liam was stronger now, and it felt great.

  He leaned farther back, stretching the tired muscles in his neck. Then he lifted his head. He wanted to see the look on Douglas’s face. Opening his eyes, he looked up at Samira. Both Douglas and Angeline were gone.

  “Hi,” said Samira, a reserved smile on her face.

  Liam stood up, suddenly feeling ashamed of his appearance. “What are you doing here?” He blushed, his sense of triumph transformed into flustered insecurity. “I mean, hi.”

  “Oh, look at you,” she said, stepping up and taking hold of his face.

  Where she touched him, it stung, and he pulled back. Putting his own hand to his face, he felt a long fresh scratch, complete with dried blood, running across his right cheek.

  “Where did that come from?” he asked.

  “I was hoping you’d know that.”

  Liam shrugged. “Must have been the rats.”

  The smile on Samira’s face dissolved into a look of disgust. “Rats?”

  Liam nodded. “In my cell.”

  Samira scanned the floor.

  Liam shook his head. “Not here. They had me in another cell before you came.” He looked around. “One about a third of this size. No windows. Kind of damp.”

  Samira put her hands on his cheeks and turned his face to hers. “What are you doing this for?”

  “Doing what?”

  “Putting yourself through this,” she said.

  “What choice do I have?” replied Liam. “I didn’t ask for this.”

  “If I ask you a question,” she said, letting go of his face, “will you answer me honestly?”

  “Of course.”

  “Did you try to attack Lord Purdun in his own chambers?”

  Liam smiled. “You heard that, did you?” Samira nodded. “Is it t
rue?”

  “Yes,” he said. “Twice.”

  “Twice?” Samira’s voice rose as she said the word. She put her hand over her mouth, as if embarrassed of her outburst. In a more hushed tone, she said, “Really?”

  He nodded, still smiling. The thought of how bold and truly stupid that was made him warm inside. Oddly, he was proud of himself for being so foolish.

  Samira covered the smile on her mouth, but Liam could see in her eyes that she too was amused by his brash behavior.

  “Ryder would have been proud of you,” she said.

  Liam nodded his agreement. “Yes, I think he probably would have been.”

  “But he also wouldn’t want to see you like this.” She grabbed hold of his filthy, tattered shirt and gave it a tug.

  “I don’t want to see me like this.”

  “Then be done with it,” came a voice from behind Samira.

  Liam looked around his brother’s wife. Lord Purdun stood in the doorway.

  “Well, if it isn’t my old friend,” said Liam. He grabbed Samira by the arm and turned her around. “Samira,” he said, his voice thick with sarcasm, “may I present to you the Baron of Ahlarkham, Lord Purdun.”

  Purdun obviously didn’t get the slight, because he smiled and bowed as he entered the room. “Thank you, Liam. And you must be Samira.” Purdun crossed the stone floor and took Samira’s hand.

  Samira dropped into a curtsy. “Yes, my lord,” she said.

  “So, Liam, are you ready to accept my offer?” asked Purdun.

  There were no guardsmen here, and Purdun’s personal bodyguard likely wouldn’t fit inside the tiny room. Liam noticed that though he was chained up, Purdun kept a good distance from him.

  “What offer?” asked Samira.

  “Liam hasn’t told you? I’ve asked him to join my elite guard.”

  “And my answer is still no,” spat Liam.

  “Has none of this—” Purdun spread his arms to indicate the stone walls and hanging chains of the dungeon— “had any impact on you?”

  Liam’s eyes narrowed. “Yes it has,” he said, his voice rising. “It’s strengthened my—”