Master of Chains

by Jess Lebow

  “What?” Giselle stopped running and looked the skinny man in the face.

  Curtis smiled and pointed at the window in the far wall.

  Giselle sprinted over to the edge and looked down through the warped glass at the huge battle raging below.

  “When did you know they were out there?”

  Curtis shrugged. “The first time we passed a window.” He thought about it. “Yes, on the first floor, after we passed through the dining hall.”

  Giselle turned and took off toward the stairs. “Then why didn’t you say something?”

  “No one asked me,” said Curtis.

  “Come on,” she growled at the rest of the Broken Spear. Then she bolted down the stairs.

  Two flights later, Giselle found the entrance hall and the open front door that led out into the courtyard. She couldn’t make heads or tails of any of it. Pockets of fighting were scattered all over the place. The bodies of dead men lay on the ground, their blood staining the flagstones. And though he looked far different than he had the last time they had been together, in the middle of the swirling madness, Giselle spotted what she was looking for.

  “Ryder,” she said, smiling. “He’s alive.” Lifting her sword high in the air, she shouted the Broken Spear’s ululating war cry. “Yie, yie, yie, yie, yie!”

  The other warriors behind her did the same, filling the entire courtyard with the bouncing sound.

  Then they charged into the fray.

  Ryder stood facing Montauk, a chain swinging in each hand. Behind him, Liam held off the vampires coming from the other direction.

  “I never did like you,” said the master of chains.

  Montauk smiled. “That’s funny,” he said. “I thought I’d had you killed.”

  Ryder nodded. “I’ll hand it to you. I never would have guessed it was you.”

  Ryder’s chain lashed out, wrapping around Montauk’s sword arm. He pulled, attempting to disarm the man before caving his head in. But Montauk proved to be much stronger than Ryder, and he pulled back on the chain with the force of an elephant. Ryder was jerked forward and sent sprawling onto his belly at Montauk’s feet.

  “How could you have guessed?” taunted Montauk. “You with your miserably short lifespan.”

  Ryder tried to get to his feet, but Montauk stepped on his back, holding him to the ground with one foot.

  “But I suppose I should be thanking you for opening the gate.” Montauk laughed. “Then again—” He stepped down hard, crushing Ryder’s ribs against the flagstones— “It’s far more enjoyable to kill you again.”

  Ryder struggled to get free, but Montauk was just too strong. His chest felt as if it were going to collapse, and his ears were ringing. The muscles along his ribcage burned from being stretched. The harder Montauk pushed, the louder the noise in Ryder’s ears grew. The sounds of battle that had moments ago filled the courtyard were swallowed up by the whining.

  Then his vision began to narrow. It was just at the periphery at first, but then the center began to go blank. He lost track of Liam. The world was disappearing. Soon it would all be gone.

  Ryder turned his head, looking out over the courtyard. With his last sliver of vision, he could just make out a robed woman stepping up beside him. From what sounded like a great distance, he could barely make out her voice.

  “Let go. He’s mine,” she said. Then she slashed down with a curved blade on something outside Ryder’s limited vision.

  Montauk’s foot came off Ryder’s back, and the world flooded back to him. The ringing in his ears was replaced by the thumping of his heart. His vision cleared, and he could breathe again.

  Rolling to one side, Ryder struggled to his feet. Giselle had slashed a large wound in Montauk’s neck, and the man held his bleeding throat with both hands.

  Giselle pressed in with her attack, coming down—her scimitar in both hands—on Montauk’s face.

  “Enough,” shouted Montauk, and he raised a bloody hand, catching Giselle’s blade with his open palm.

  He tore the blade from her grip. Not bothering to turn it around, he slammed the hilt into Giselle’s chest, knocking the leader of the Broken Spear back into Ryder.

  “I’m done toying with you,” said Montauk, his voice gravelly and hoarse. He tossed Giselle’s blade aside. As he did, Ryder could see the slashed flesh on his palm knitting itself back together, healing as if he’d just consumed a magic potion.

  Stepping forward, Montauk grabbed both Ryder and Giselle by their throats. “Now you will die.” He began to squeeze.

  Ryder grabbed Montauk’s hand with both of his own. He scratched and clawed, but he couldn’t pry the man’s fingers loose from his neck. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Giselle trying to do the same thing. Her skin flushed, and there was panic on her face.

  Then, as he watched, the leader of the Broken Spear stopped struggling. Her body didn’t go limp, she just seemed to relax. Her eyes were still open, and hatred burned in them. Giselle hadn’t given up, and she hadn’t resigned herself to death. That was maybe the only thing this woman wasn’t capable of.

  Ryder felt Montauk flinch. The grip around his neck tightened, then dropped away, and Ryder was free. Behind Montauk, something shimmered into existence. It was a person. In the next moment, Curtis came into view. He had his hand up against Montauk. Gripping a dagger in his hands, he held the blade buried in the man’s back.

  Montauk let out an inhuman shriek. He was pinned like a bug by Curtis’s dagger, and he thrashed about, trying desperately to get off the illusionist’s blade. Then his skin began to stretch and melt. It wobbled and drooped, looking as if it would simply fall from his face and body.

  Ryder got to his feet. Stumbling back, he grabbed hold of Giselle’s shoulder, pulling her away from Montauk.

  The new head of the Crimson Awl flailed for a moment longer. A scowl grew on his disfigured lips, and he stood up straight, shaking his fists in a triumphant gesture. There was a soft popping sound, and Montauk’s melting flesh simply vanished, leaving in its place an ancient and withered visage. The creature that stood where Montauk had been seemed vaguely female. She had long, graying hair, an ornate dress, and fangs.

  The creature raised her arms, and a deep shadow filled the courtyard. All fighting inside Zerith Hold came to a complete stop, and the air was filled with a collective hiss from the Crimson Awl.

  “Submit now. Bow down before Shyressa,” said the woman, her words echoing across the entire courtyard. With a casual flick of her wrist, she swatted Curtis away with as much effort as she would pay to a buzzing insect.

  The skinny illusionist went flying, and his dagger clattered to the ground.

  Ryder felt a chill wind blow in, and he shivered against it. He felt Giselle grip his arm. She was shaking. If these were to be their last moments, he was glad she was there with him.

  A huge boom filled Zerith Hold as the heavy wooden doors and portcullis of the front gate exploded inward. Splinters of wood and shards of metal flew everywhere, and a huge cloud of dust and smoke erupted into the night sky.

  Then a black horse and its rider appeared out of the swirling debris, trailing tendrils of smoke behind him as he rode into the courtyard, his sword drawn and raised over his head. Though Ryder had never seen him in the flesh before, he recognized the man from Erlkazar’s golden coin—this was the Crusader King, King Korox.

  “To the baron!” King Korox shouted.

  More riders emerged from the smoke. They poured in, appearing as if by magic out of the mists. To Ryder it looked like an entire army—and then some.

  The withered woman glared down at Ryder. She let out a deep, bone rattling growl.

  “This is not over,” she said. Then she wrapped the sleeves of her dress around her body and evaporated, leaving behind only a thin stream of translucent mist that lifted into the air and rose over the wall.

  The rest of the Crimson Awl did the same, turning themselves into insubstantial clouds of gas and escaping into
the night.

  CHAPTER 28

  Liam knelt beside Baron Purdun as the king lay into him.

  “Of all the foolish things to do,” chided Korox, “why did you have to disobey my summons?”

  Lord Purdun, down on one knee, apologized. “Please forgive me, my liege, but there was no other way. Had I not been here when the vampires attacked Zerith Hold, it may have fallen.” He looked up at the king. “I sent messengers, but they were intercepted.”

  Liam cringed.

  “It was only by the might of your Magistrates that I managed to communicate with you. I have Magistrate Olivio to thank for that.”

  The king nodded. “Well, I want a full explanation of this matter.”

  “Yes, my liege,” agreed Purdun. “But not now.”

  “What?” The king was obviously not in the mood to be told when or how things were going to be done.

  “Zerith Hold was not the vampires’ only target,” Purdun explained. “All of Duhlnarim is under siege.”

  The king spun his horse. “Then get to your feet, man. We ride to their aid.”

  Lord Purdun jumped up. “An excellent idea, my king.”

  Liam got to his feet.

  Lord Purdun began to issue orders. “Liam, Knoblauch, you’re with me.” Without a moment’s hesitation, he walked across the courtyard to stand before Ryder, Giselle, and the rest of the Broken Spear.

  Liam cringed again. He and his brother hadn’t fully patched things up. The next few moments could destroy the delicate peace that had developed during the fighting.

  The Baron of Ahlarkham looked Ryder up and down then shook his head. “I don’t know what to make of you,” he said of Liam’s chain-covered brother.

  Ryder opened his mouth as if to explain himself, but the baron cut him off.

  “Captain Beetlestone,” shouted Purdun over his shoulder.

  Liam gripped the hilt of his long sword.

  “Yes, my lord,” replied Beetlestone.

  The baron smiled. “Get these men horses.” He looked back at Ryder. “And bring this man his weapon. We’ll need all the help we can get.”

  Shyressa rematerialized in a graveyard just outside Furrowsrich village. The rest of her Crimson Awl minions did the same.

  “Years of work,” she spat. “All of that time, wasted.”

  Shyressa couldn’t remember the last time one of her plans hadn’t succeeded.

  “There will be retribution for this.” She stalked back and forth, tapping her fingers on top of the headstones. “I will take Ahlarkham tonight, even if I have to kill everyone in it.”

  Lifting her arms in the air, she spoke the words to an incantation. One that she dearly loved.

  The ground around her shook and roiled. Headstones turned on their sides as the earth churned and pushed up from underneath. From out of the soil crawled the dead of Duhlnarim. Bony hands clawed at the dirt as every body in the graveyard pulled itself out of its supposedly final resting place.

  “This will do fine,” purred Shyressa, her mood improving. “Just fine.”

  At the head of the Broken Spear, Ryder and Giselle raced down the road from Zerith Hold toward Furrowsrich. As they got closer, Ryder felt it had been a lifetime since he’d last seen this familiar terrain. So much had happened, but he didn’t have time to think about that now.

  The undead were back in Duhlnarim. His mother, his father, and Samira were in danger.

  Turning down the road into Furrowsrich, Ryder’s breath caught in his lungs. The place was crawling with zombies. The creatures bashed at the locked doors of the village houses. With each thump, blood-curdling screams issued out into the night.

  “This way,” shouted Ryder, forcing his horse off the road and into the fields behind the village.

  Over rows and rows of planted vegetables, the horses rode through Furrowsrich. Leaping the low fence behind the house Ryder had built with his own hands, he came around to the front. The door was wide open, and a row of zombies was making their way inside.

  Not bothering to bring his horse to a stop, Ryder threw his legs over the edge of his saddle and came down at a full run, barging into the back of the zombies and bowling them over as he came through the front door at full speed.

  Ryder collided with two zombies and continued on, running them into one of the support beams holding up the roof. The heavy chains hanging from his shoulders added their weight to his momentum, and in combination, he smashed the rotting creatures to something resembling horse manure. Their decayed flesh and brittle bones made for a soft cushion, and Ryder stepped away from the stout, wooden pole unharmed.

  Inside the house, half a dozen zombies had Samira, Angeline, and Douglas backed into a corner. Douglas stood in front of the two women, a burning log from the fire in one hand. He tried to hold back the walking dead, swinging the flaming timber back and forth. But it wasn’t doing much good. The zombies were still advancing.

  “Ryder!” screamed Samira. There was real terror in her voice. “Ryder, help us! Please help us!”

  Ryder unleashed his spiked chain, letting it fly at the back of the first zombie. The enchanted links crackled with purple energy as they came down around the head of its victim. The zombie’s rotted flesh seared under the electrical assault, sending a plume of thick gray smoke into the air, and the end of the spiked chain encircled the creature’s neck. Giving it a sharp pull, Ryder tore the creature’s head from its shoulders.

  The zombie took one more step, then fell over, dead again.

  The rest of the group, now aware that they were under attack, turned around and came for Ryder.

  “That’s right,” he said, gripping his chain in the middle and spinning it in a large circle before him. “Come to Ryder.” He backed up as they advanced, drawing them away from his family.

  A smile broke across Ryder’s lips. He’d taken on three undead giants. He could handle five undead humans by himself.

  The Broken Spear appeared in the doorway just then. They rushed into the small house, drawing their weapons and surrounding the zombies.

  Ryder shrugged. Help was always good. He lunged at the first undead. His chain turned its brittle corpse into a pile of broken bones. The Broken Spear followed his lead, charging into the fray and cutting down the foul beasts in short order.

  Douglas threw the flaming branch into the fire pit. “Where have you been, boy?”

  Angeline brushed past the old man and folded her arms around Ryder despite his chain-wrapped appearance. “We thought you were dead,” she said, squeezing him tight. “We thought you had left us.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I got a little sidetracked.”

  Over his mother’s shoulder, Ryder stared down on Samira, sitting on her knees in the corner. She looked tired and scared. The last few months had taken their toll.

  Disengaging from Angeline’s embrace, Ryder went to Samira’s side. “It’s all right. You’re safe now.”

  Samira looked up at Ryder. There was sadness in her eyes.

  Giselle came to stand beside the two of them. “So,” she said, “I take it this is your wife.”

  Ryder looked up and nodded. There were a lot of things that needed to be said, but right now he didn’t know how to say them.

  “Who is this?” asked Samira.

  Ryder opened his mouth, not sure what was going to come out.

  Giselle cut him off. “I’m just a friend. Ryder did me a big favor, so now I’m returning—”

  Outside, the high pitch of a horse shrieking tore through the night, accompanied by the sounds of battle.

  Jase came bursting through the door, interrupting Giselle. “Ryder, it’s your brother. He’s in trouble.”

  Samira jumped to her feet. “Liam, no.” She gathered her dress in her arms and went running into the night.

  Liam fought for his life—and the life of the baron.

  They had ridden into Furrowsrich at Liam’s insistence. The place was crawling with zombies. The elite guard had managed to di
spatch most of the shambling dead in short order. But they had been merely a ruse.

  The vampires had been lying in wait, and they pounced out of the treetops on Lord Purdun, Liam, and Knoblauch. The three men stood now with their backs together, surrounded by the hissing, shrieking undead. At the head of them all stood their mistress.

  “If it isn’t Lord Purdun,” purred Shyressa.

  “What is it you want, Shyressa?” Purdun didn’t look at the vampire as he spoke, keeping his eyes on her threatening minions.

  “Nothing much.” There was a giddy edge to the vampire’s words. “Just control of your barony.”

  “And you think if you kill me you’ll get my throne?” Purdun shook his head. “It doesn’t work that way.”

  “No?” toyed Shyressa. “We’ll see about that.”

  Shyressa leaped forward wrapping her arms around the baron and biting down on his neck.

  “Lord Purdun,” shouted Liam. The vampire had moved so fast, he hadn’t had time to react. He spun and stabbed at Shyressa, but the tip of his blade passed through the cloth of her gown and out the other side.

  “Hold,” shouted the baron. “Mind the others.” He pointed out the advancing horde.

  Liam did a double take. It wasn’t the baron the vampire had wrapped in her embrace—it was Knoblauch. The veteran guardsman had been just fast enough to step in between the baron and his attacker. He’d been given the chance to atone for his sins, and he’d taken it. This was the price he paid.

  Liam couldn’t see Knoblauch’s body, wrapped up as it was in the vampire’s gown, but he could see the man struggle inside her embrace. It reminded Liam of watching a spider slowly devour its prey.

  There was no more time to mourn. The vampires closed in on them, and Liam fought frantically. It was all he could do to keep their clutching, clawed hands from grasping his arms and legs. Liam felt the panic of desperation, and his sword moved faster than ever before. Still, with every passing moment, the undead closed down on him.

  He was going to share the same fate as Knoblauch. He was going to be sucked dry.

  A heavy rattling sound filled Liam’s ears, and a pair of chains came whipping over his shoulder, knocking two vampires to the ground. Ryder appeared at Liam’s side, chains flinging out from his body, slapping aside grasping claws. They laid low undead, and they forced the advancing vampires back, giving Liam back the slimmest glimmer of hope.