Master of Chains

by Jess Lebow

  “They are within a day’s march, my lord.”

  Purdun sat back in his chair and steepled his fingers. “How did it come to this?”

  There was silence in the room for several heartbeats. Liam didn’t know what to make of it all. Had things gone differently for him, he might have been overjoyed that Zerith Hold was about to be the center point of one of the largest battles in the history of Erlkazar. But things hadn’t gone differently for him, and despite his earlier convictions, he believed Lord Purdun to be a good man. He didn’t deserve all this. He didn’t deserve the reputation that had been created for him.

  Captain Beetlestone cleared his throat. “Lord Purdun,” he started. “Things are going to get … chaotic in the next day. It is entirely possible that my men won’t be available to come to your aid if one of these groups manages to breach Zerith Hold.”

  “What are you suggesting?” asked Purdun.

  “I think it would be wise if you were to start wearing your armor inside the Hold.”

  Purdun nodded.

  “And I would like to assign to you another bodyguard,” Beetlestone looked up at Liam. “Someone to watch Liam’s back the next time he decides to take on six Magistrates by himself.”

  Liam thought he detected a hint of a smile on the captain’s face.

  “Who did you have in mind?” asked the baron.

  “Guardsman Knoblauch, sir,” said Beetlestone.

  Lord Purdun nodded, obviously weighing the suggestion in his mind. “You know my reservations,” he said finally.

  Beetlestone nodded. “Yes, but he is the best man I have. And if I may be frank—” He stopped, looking to the baron for approval.

  Purdun nodded. “Of course.”

  “If Knoblauch had been accompanied by a second man, one to watch his back as I am suggesting for Liam, then the unfortunate events of several years ago may never have happened.”

  Purdun took a deep breath and rubbed his hand over his face. “All right, Beetlestone. Send him up.” He turned to look at Liam. “We can use all the help we can get.”

  CHAPTER 23

  Ryder woke late in the day. The sun was high in the sky, and the soldiers of the Broken Spear were quietly preparing themselves. All of the plans had been laid out the previous night. They all knew what they were supposed to do.

  Ryder too knew what he had to do. He had to end this thing. He had to take the head from the serpent before it could strike at him. Once he had killed Purdun, he would locate Liam and the rest of the Crimson Awl. With the baron dead, they would have a real shot at taking Zerith Hold.

  Tonight would be the spark that ignited the fire. It would be the break the Awl had always waited for.

  He looked out over the men and women around him. With the addition of the Broken Spear, the Awl would be twice as strong. His gaze searched the group and fell upon Giselle.

  She was a fine leader. It would be nice to have someone to fall back on. The Awl had always lacked strong leaders. He hoped that Liam had risen to his expectations and been able to keep the momentum in his absence. He would soon find out.

  Then there was Nazeem. The Chultan sat calmly on the edge of camp, his legs crossed, his eyes closed, meditating. Ryder wasn’t sure where this man would fit into the overall plans. But somehow he knew that Nazeem would play a vital role. The tattooed man always seemed to be in the right place at the right time. He had a knack for showing up when he could do the most good. Ryder smiled to himself. He supposed those were skills one had to hone if one wanted to become a successful criminal. However he had come by them, Nazeem’s ability to seemingly appear and disappear at will would be useful tools moving forward.

  Giselle touched Ryder’s arm. “Are you ready?”

  He nodded. “You?”

  Giselle smiled. “We will be waiting for your signal,” she said. “You just stay alive long enough for us to have something to do. I would hate to have come all this way for nothing.”

  “I would hate that too,” he replied.

  Giselle placed her hand on his chest, her eyes lingering on his for a long moment. Then she reached up and gave him a kiss.

  Ryder felt a wave of sadness fill him. “Giselle—”

  “For luck,” she said. Then she pushed him away. “Now take Curtis and go. We will see you before sunrise.”

  Ryder placed a hand to his lips, the soft wetness of her kiss still lingering. Then he turned and walked away.

  “All right, listen up,” said Captain Phinneous. He had his entire unit assembled in the common room of the barracks inside Zerith Hold. “I have volunteered all of you for late-night guard duty tonight.”

  This brought a few moans and groans from the men.

  Under other circumstances, Phinneous might have been angry. But not today. Today he was going to get a little revenge. Nothing could spoil his good mood.

  “All right, quiet down,” he said. “I know none of you like that too much, but I have a little surprise for you.”

  The men quieted down.

  “I have word that Ryder of Duhlnarim has found his way back to Ahlarkham.”

  “I thought he’d been shipped off to Westgate,” shouted a soldier.

  “Aye, lad,” said Captain Phinneous. “Somehow the bastard has earned his freedom, and he’s come back to finish what he started.”

  Phinneous looked at each of the men, making sure his words sank in. “I have it on good authority that he’s going to try to infiltrate Zerith Hold tonight.”

  “Ah,” shouted the same guard. “And we’re going to be there to catch him.” He slapped the guard next to him on the arm in celebration. “We’ll all be heroes.”

  The men let out a huzzah!

  Captain Phinneous shook his head. “No, lads,” he said. “I’ve got an even better idea.” The men grew quiet again as Phinneous leaned in, talking just above a whisper. “We’re gonna let the man in and let him get all the way to the baron’s sitting room.”

  “Why would we do that?”

  Captain Phinneous smiled a huge bucktoothed grin. “Because, boys, we’ll have a surprise waiting for our guest when he arrives. Stay sharp tonight. I’ve got hunch we’ll be in for a spectacular show.”

  It was the darkest part of the night. The moon had yet to rise over the Deepwash as Ryder and Curtis inched their way closer to Zerith Hold.

  There were only two ways into the fortress. The most accessible was the same way Ryder had been taken out—through the stables and barracks in the back where all of Purdun’s elite guardsmen lived and slept. Even with Curtis’s illusions, Ryder doubted there was much of a chance of his making it in through there undetected.

  The other way was through the front gate. Though it, too, was heavily watched, there were far fewer guardsmen around and not nearly as much traffic. The back of the Hold was where all the real business—the comings and goings of merchants and soldiers—took place. The front was more for diplomatic purposes, and it didn’t see as much use.

  That night, Ryder was going to be a visiting foreign dignitary—an uninvited ambassador from Fairhaven.

  Though the portcullis and double doors that blocked entry to Zerith Hold were down and closed, the drawbridge had not been raised. A person so inclined could walk right up to the front door of Zerith Hold and knock on the heavy wood. That wouldn’t be the way Ryder chose to enter.

  The huge chains that lifted the bridge back up against the doors of the Hold hung slack from the top of the wall. They attached to the wooden drawbridge by two large cast-iron hooks that were forged directly into the bridge. The links of the chain rose into the air, sagging as they climbed toward the top of the wall and through two large holes in the stone. Ryder had never seen the other side of the door, but he assumed the rest of the chains were connected to a wheel or a pulley, some mechanism that allowed a handful of guardsmen to open and close the drawbridge as the need arose.

  Ryder watched the guards on top of the wall. From what he could tell, there were only a handful of the
m up there. They were paired off, and they marched from one end of the wall on a strict rotation. In the time it took Ryder to count to three hundred, one patrol had covered the entire length of the wall and had moved out of sight.

  As they patrolled, the guards hardly even turned their attention away from their conversations. Only once did Ryder see a soldier actually look out off the wall through the crenellations. They really weren’t paying any attention to the ground in front of the Hold, seemingly convinced that the doors, the portcullis, and their presence would make anyone wanting to get in think twice.

  They were wrong.

  “Are you ready?” asked Ryder.

  Curtis nodded. “Yes. I think so.”

  Ryder frowned at the illusionist. “What do you mean, ‘I think so?’ ”

  Curtis shrugged. “I mean I think I’m ready. I won’t really know if I’m ready until I actually try to be ready. Judging from every other experience I have, all signs point to me being ready.” He held a finger in the air. “But you never know. I provide no assurances.”

  Ryder shook his head. “Get on with it.”

  “Right,” said Curtis, and he began to cast a spell. Waving his hands over Ryder’s head, the illusionist spoke two quiet words then snapped his fingers.

  Ryder looked down at his hands. All he could see was the dirt and stones on the ground below. His body was completely invisible.

  “Guess I was ready,” said Curtis.

  “Good work,” said Ryder. “Now head back and meet up with the others. You know what to do, don’t you?”

  Curtis nodded. “I think so.”

  Ryder sighed. “Well, I guess that will have to do.”

  “All right,” said Curtis, and without another word he turned and walked back toward where the Broken Spear would be waiting for Ryder’s signal.

  Ryder watched the wall. When the first guards came into sight, he started counting. When the same guards had moved out of view, he crept closer to the drawbridge. Darting under the huge links, he jumped, grabbed hold of the massive chain, and clung to its underside. Then he waited, finishing the count he started when the guards had moved out of sight. From where he was, he couldn’t see the patrolling guardsmen. He smiled. Even if he could, they certainly couldn’t see him.

  Hanging there, upside down, Ryder counted. When he reached three hundred he began to climb. Hand over hand, he pulled himself up the chain. He moved cautiously, not wanting to rattle the links or to call any attention to himself. He was invisible, but not silent.

  The going was slow, but soon he was close to the top. The chain entered the wall just below the bottom of the crenellations. As he got close, Ryder could hear the guards conversing.

  “Do you think there is any truth to the rumors that the Crimson Awl are planning a raid on Zerith Hold?” asked one man.

  Ryder stopped climbing to listen.

  “No,” said another. “Haven’t heard much out of them for awhile.”

  Ryder smiled. By morning, they will have heard something out of the Awl.

  He continued to climb until he got to the edge of the stone. The voices of the two guards grew softer as they moved on. When Ryder could no longer hear them, he hoisted himself up on top of the chain and through the hole in the wall.

  Slipping inside, Ryder let himself down onto the darkened floor. As he had suspected, the chains ran through the wall and down into a torchlit courtyard beyond. About a man’s height above ground level there was a raised platform that ran the entire circumference of the courtyard. In the middle of the platform, the iron links of the chains connected to a circular contraption that was covered with gears and had a large crank attached to one side.

  Though the chain was the way Ryder had intended to enter the Hold, the platform below was not empty. Archers patrolled along the edge, looking down toward the wooden doors and iron portcullis, ready to pincushion anyone who set foot inside. If he climbed down the chain, he’d likely be heard.

  Guess I underestimated this entrance, thought Ryder.

  Though it was a clear night, a slight breeze blew through the openings in the wall. Turning away from the courtyard, Ryder scanned the space around him. Up here, where the chains ran through the stone, there was a narrow room. Only a small amount of light came in through the slits from the courtyard below, but it was enough for Ryder to see a ladder leading through the floor.

  Better than taking the chain, he thought.

  Placing his foot on the top rung, Ryder lowered himself one foot at a time into the shaft.

  The ladder ended maybe fifty rungs below and left off hanging in midair above a stone floor. Ryder stopped on the second to last rung, keeping himself entirely concealed inside the shaft. Below he could see only a small square of the stone floor, lit by a sickly orange-yellow glow. From the ladder he couldn’t tell what, or who, might be down there.

  Closing his eyes, Ryder tried to listen. The wind coming in through the passage above him whistled lightly as it came through the rungs, making it impossible for him to hear anything.

  Knowing that he didn’t have any other choice, Ryder let go of the ladder and dropped into the passage below, grabbing the end of his enchanted chain as he came down in a crouch on the flagstones.

  “Who goes there? Show yourself—”

  Ryder’s falling from the ceiling had startled an unarmed man wearing an apron. He was holding a large wheel of cheese in both arms. He cast his gaze back and forth in Ryder’s general direction, but it was clear the man didn’t see him.

  Creeping quietly to his left, Ryder pulled his chain off his hip. The scared servant paced sideways, turning his head this way and that trying to follow the sounds.

  “Show yourself,” the man shouted again.

  It was dark in the passage. The walls were lined with wooden shelves stacked high with mold-covered cheese and big slabs of salted beef.

  Stepping behind the confused servant, Ryder flipped his wrist, flinging the end of his chain. The links of the enchanted weapon wrapped around the man’s legs, and Ryder yanked it back just as he turned visible again.

  The apron-wearing man yowled in surprise and tumbled flat onto his chest, the wheel of cheese breaking his fall.

  Ryder took a step forward, and with the slack in the chain he hurled the handle of the weapon at the man’s head. The enchanted links slammed into the downed servant’s skull, knocking him out cold.

  “Sorry about that,” said Ryder, frowning. He looked down at the growing red lump on the man’s head. “Nothing a little rest won’t fix.”

  Unhitching his chain from the man’s leg, Ryder scanned the hallway. Lit by two small torches, the stone passage led off in both directions. This was likely a service corridor, used by servants to travel across the Hold without getting in the way of the guards.

  Ryder listened down both ways, hoping that no one heard the yelp the man had let out. Then, convinced as he could be that he hadn’t abandoned his stealth, he turned to his left, grabbed a torch from a sconce in the wall, and set off down the hall.

  The passage led down and around the corner. There were no windows or doors, only long, narrow brick walls lined with foodstuffs and old pots. Ryder traveled on for some time, encountering no one on his way.

  Eventually he came to a set of wooden stairs, leading down into a wider, well-lit hallway. From up above, it looked like the floor was covered in a fancy, woven rug.

  He’d found his way in.

  Extinguishing the torch, Ryder quietly made his way down the stairs. This hallway was much larger than the one he’d just come from. The walls were covered with oil-painting portraits of preposterously dressed men and women. Each one was illuminated by a softly glowing mage-lit stone that cast a warm glow over the rather stark, uninterested faces of those in the pictures.

  On his left, a wooden rail guarded the edge of the floor that dropped off into darkness below. Ryder moved over to look three flights down into what appeared to be an entry hall. There were empty suits of armor, art
work, and statues all over the place. Above him there were two more floors.

  Turning away from the edge, Ryder quietly made his way down the deserted hall and around the corner to a set of stairs leading up to the next level.

  “If I were a baron, I’d live on the top floor,” he said, and he headed up.

  CHAPTER 24

  At the top of the final flight of stairs, Ryder encountered a set of double doors. The dark wood was polished to a high shine, and the ornate brass doorknobs sparkled dimly in the low magelight. A pair of halberd-toting guards stood at attention beside them, one on each side.

  It had taken him the better part of the night to sneak through Zerith Hold to this point. Other than one oblivious random patrol, there had been no sign of guards on any of the doors. Whatever was behind that door was more important than anything in the other rooms. Ryder was betting it was the baron.

  Gripping the end of his chain, Ryder readied himself, then charged out of the shadows. The spikes of his chain lit up as he brought it down around one of the surprised guards’ hands. Pulling the chain tight, Ryder ripped the halberd from the soldier’s grip and sent it clattering down the stairs.

  The guard’s eyes went wide, and he started fishing around on his belt for his sword. The other guard managed to get his halberd pointed at Ryder, but that was all. The spiked chain slammed into the soldier’s face, discharging its electrical fire and sending a tremendous jolt through the man’s body. Before the man could recover, Ryder was on him again. He pulled the guard’s legs out from under him and smashed the other end of the chain into his chest. The soldier’s body jumped from the impact. He let out a muffled cry and slumped back.

  Ryder turned his attention back to the disarmed guard. He was visibly frightened, trying to get his blade out of its sheath but having a hard time because his hands were shaking.

  “Intruder!” shouted the man, his voice wobbling.

  The end of Ryder’s spiked chain clocked the man in the head and wrapped itself around his neck. With a quick flick of Ryder’s wrist, the guard was pulled from his feet and sent tumbling down the stairs.