The Chain Breaker: Books 1-3

by Holmberg, D. K.

“No, I don’t like the idea that you’ve suddenly gone from taking jobs to taking jobs that involve sorcerers.”

  “This isn’t sorcery.”

  Wrenlow glowered at him. “We don’t work around magic, Gavin.”

  “We use the damn enchantment with each job.”

  “That’s different. That’s minor magic at best. And you know what I mean.”

  “I know,” he whispered.

  It wasn’t his intent, and he certainly didn’t want to bring Wrenlow into something he wasn’t comfortable with. The man had been a friend, an ally, and in the years they’d been working together, Gavin wouldn’t have completed some of the jobs he’d taken had Wrenlow not been a part of them. Together they had accomplished more than what he would’ve been able to do on his own.

  When he’d first started traveling with Wrenlow, however reluctantly, he wouldn’t have said the same thing. Over time, Wrenlow had proven himself and shown that he could be incredibly useful. In the first job they’d pulled together, Wrenlow had trailed behind him. Gavin had been stabbed in the side—not the first time and definitely not the last time—and Wrenlow had dragged him away, giving him time to recover. It had made him think twice about having somebody looking out for him. If he had, he wouldn’t have been as likely to be jumped.

  “We’re not going to get involved in sorcery,” Gavin said.

  “Are you sure?” Wrenlow’s gaze drifted to the El’aras blade. “If the El’aras are involved, then magic is already a part of it.”

  “I think…”

  He didn’t really know what to think. All he knew was that Wrenlow was right. The El’aras were involved, which meant an element of magic was involved. The timing of the attack combined with what he’d faced when he’d gone after the target made him suspicious.

  Could my employer have known?

  The idea that his employer knew about his capability, along with his history, bothered him. But then, Hamish had made it perfectly clear that he knew more about Gavin than what he would’ve wanted anyone to know. That was the most troubling thing. Maybe this was a job he needed to keep Wrenlow out of. Which meant going after information on his own.

  “Stay on the periphery of what you can find,” he said.

  “The periphery? What does that even mean?” Wrenlow asked.

  “It means don’t go and do something foolish.”

  “I’m not going to do anything that’ll get you hurt.”

  “It’s not me I’m concerned about. I know your feelings about magic,” Gavin said.

  Wrenlow grunted. “I’m not sure you do. You weren’t there when my family was slaughtered. You weren’t there to see how helpless I was.” Darkness clouded his face.

  “I’ve seen others who have gone through something similar.”

  “I know you think that was what happened to your family—”

  “It was,” Gavin said.

  He had so few memories of that time. He’d been little more than a toddler, and the memories he had were faint. He remembered an explosion and the sense of power, and nothing else. After that, Tristan had claimed him. He’d begun training and working with the man who’d become his mentor. The lessons had been easy at first, but they had become increasingly difficult.

  “Promise me that if magic is involved, we’ll move on,” Wrenlow said.

  Move on. It meant leaving the city. Leaving consistent pay. Leaving the Dragon. Maybe they did need to do that. He was getting attached, something that he’d learned was a danger.

  “I promise,” said Gavin, hoping it was a promise he’d be able to keep. “Just see what you can find out.”

  “What about you?”

  “I still have a job to do. I think I need to keep at it. If I don’t complete this job quickly, Hamish has made it clear that we’ll suffer.”

  “We don’t even know what he’s going to do to you. You’re too valuable to him.”

  “I would’ve thought the same thing, but now, especially with the El’aras in Yoran, I don’t know if that’s true.” He tucked the dagger back into his belt. “I’m sorry I woke you. I couldn’t sleep, and I just wanted to get started on this.”

  “I suppose if you faced the El’aras, I can understand why you couldn’t sleep. I’ll get working on this in the morning.” He flashed a smile. “There’s not a lot I’m going to be able to find out at this hour. I have a few contacts within the city I can go to, and we’ll see what I can come up with.”

  Gavin smiled. He appreciated that about Wrenlow. It wasn’t just how quickly he’d been able to develop a network of contacts all throughout the city. The man had an easy-going nature about him, and it made it so that others trusted him. In a way, it was almost like magic, though Gavin knew it was a skill Wrenlow had honed over the years, no differently than how he’d honed his fighting ability. It was that trust that he needed now.

  Heading back down the hall, he wandered into the tavern and took a seat at a table. The tavern was empty, and the scents from the night before lingered in the air: from the fire that no longer burned, old food, and ale that had gone stale, turning a little bit sour.

  He stood and began to move through the fighting patterns Tristan had taught him. At first, his body was stiff, tense. As his body warmed up, he began to work more rapidly. He could feel patterns flowing through him as he let the training come back.

  It was easy to embrace the various fighting styles, and he stayed within the confines of each before cycling to the next. When he was engaged in combat, Gavin often mixed fighting styles, rarely keeping to one in particular. They had all merged in his mind so that he could pull upon the most useful aspects of any of them. There were times when it was better for him to get back to the basics, to focus on the initial lessons he’d learned. Working through those patterns also calmed his mind.

  The tavern was empty enough, and he’d pushed the tables off to the side so that he had space to work. Even without that space, he could still slip through the openness of the tavern and find the patterns to dance from one to the next.

  It bothered him that Hamish knew as much about him as he did. Yoran was small enough that Gavin wasn’t surprised Hamish had found him, but it was the fact that the man had dispensed that knowledge with a hint of a threat that troubled him most. The threat meant that his allies were in some danger. Some of them worked within the city’s underground and were accustomed to danger. Then there were those like Jessica. She didn’t deserve that threat.

  He shifted to the Jasap style. It put some pressure on his back, and he twisted, using everything he could to move through that style so he could limber up. He needed the flexibility. The longer he worked through those patterns, the quicker he fought. If there were El’aras in the city, Gavin was going to need all the speed he possessed. Hopefully, he wasn’t going to have to face any of them again, but he had to be prepared. That involved his body—along with his mind.

  When he was done with the Jasap style, he moved straight into the Bo style. This one was more aggressive, whereas the Jasap was more of a flow from movement to movement.

  Gavin jerked his hand forward and pulled it back, then swung his feet around.

  He lost himself in the patterns as he switched from style to style, going through everything he’d learned and embracing the calm the training brought him. This was one of the many things he still did that Tristan had taught him. In doing so, he could find the speed and focus he needed.

  Memories of those training sessions, times spent sparring with Tristan, flashed in his mind. He thought of his older and much more experienced mentor, the way that he had brutalized Gavin in the earliest years, forcing him to develop or suffer. He’d had little choice but to improve. Over time, the beatings hadn’t been nearly as severe, though he had never bested Tristan.

  When he was done, he’d worked himself into a nice sweat. The sound of clapping came from behind him and caught his attention. He spun and found Jessica watching him.

  “I didn’t know you liked to dance,” she
said.

  Gavin shook his head. “It’s not dancing. It’s practicing. Preparing to fight.”

  She stood up and started to stretch her hands out from her. As she did, she moved them in a rhythmic fashion. He couldn’t deny there was something similar to the different patterns he’d gone through, much like he couldn’t deny that there was something appealing about watching her as she worked through those patterns. She had wonderful curves, and as they flowed from position to position, he could practically envision how those curves felt beneath him.

  “It seems just like dancing to me,” she said, smiling at him.

  She reached out, taking his hands. He squeezed as he fell into the same rhythm. There was a hint of a Malian rhythm to it, though part of it was Porth as well. By mingling his fighting styles, he was able to mimic at least enough of her dancing technique. He continued through the movements, embracing the way she danced.

  “Didn’t I tire you out?” she asked, leaning close to him.

  “You did, but my mind was working too much.”

  “I’d rather have your hands working.” She shifted one of his hands, sliding it on her hip. She leaned in, breathing in at his neck, and smiled again. “Of course, I value your mind as well.”

  She kissed him, and he kissed her back.

  Ever since coming to Yoran, Jessica had been the one constant. He appreciated that she was there for him, never asking for more than what he could give. Considering he didn’t know how long he was going to stay in the city, he didn’t know how much he could really give her. He had a sense of what she wanted, but he also had a sense she knew he might not be able to offer it to her.

  “I’m going to be busy for a little while,” he said.

  “It’s an even better reason for us to spend more time together for what’s left of the night. Especially since you left me last night.”

  “I didn’t have much choice.”

  “No?” She traced her finger along his chest.

  “What I’m doing might be dangerous.”

  “I gathered that. I suspect everything you do has the potential to be dangerous.”

  “Not always… but often.”

  She looked up at him, and her gaze lingered on his, her eyes seeming to pierce some deep part of him. “I’m not looking for love, Gavin.”

  He smiled, but he could see the lie behind her words. “You don’t need to—”

  Gavin never got the chance to finish as the door exploded open.

  There was a burst of fire, followed by an immediate enchanted darkness that was overwhelming. He pushed Jessica behind him, positioning himself in such a way that he could block her from the attacker. He reached for the knives and came across the El’aras dagger instead. As he pulled it free, it started to glow softly.

  “Shit,” he whispered.

  “What is it?”

  “Bad news.”

  “I take it that whoever’s coming isn’t friendly?”

  Gavin shook his head. If the El’aras dagger was glowing, it meant there were others coming with it; that their magic was being used.

  He flicked his gaze upstairs and thought of Wrenlow. Thankfully, he was in bed. There were others upstairs who were also sleeping, others who might be able to help him. It was late enough that the tavern was completely empty. He should be thankful for that. If it weren’t empty, then everyone who was here would be dead.

  Instead, it would be only him.

  Chapter Seven

  Gavin leaned toward Jessica. The inside of the tavern was quiet. His breathing and the hammering of his heart were the only sounds, other than a faint creaking of boards. Everything within him was on edge as he scanned the inside of the tavern by the light of the glowing dagger, looking for movement. He didn’t see anything. He’d have to handle this on his own, but first he had to ensure Jessica would not be injured.

  “I need you to go upstairs,” he said, pushing her toward the stairs. “Hide.”

  The El’aras dagger started to pulse even more powerfully. He could feel the energy within the dagger, and he didn’t need access to magic to know that what was coming was more than what she could withstand.

  He focused on his core strength. It was strange that he needed to do this so often these days. He’d gone nearly a year since using that technique, and here he had done so several times in one night. Thankfully, he’d had enough sleep that he’d replenished his energy.

  “I’m not going to leave you here. If you need help, I’m able to—”

  He pushed her toward the stairs again. “I know you’re willing to, but I’m saying you aren’t able to. Go. This isn’t a request.”

  She glared at him, then stormed off. Her footsteps up the stairs were much louder than they should’ve been. She was bound to wake the entire tavern, though knowing her, that was probably what she wanted.

  Gavin focused on what he could feel through the dagger. He’d never had an El’aras dagger, so he didn’t know what the glowing meant, but he suspected it wouldn’t be good.

  The darkness remained, filling the inside of the room. El’aras magic.

  Creeping forward, he held the dagger out from him, trying to use it to pierce the blackness. As he swept the dagger through it, it started to clear. Other glowing blades were visible. He counted five.

  Five El’aras.

  The only advantage he had was that they might not know about his training, but the fact that they’d sent this many at him suggested they realized he posed some sort of threat. He’d have to act as quickly as possible and then hope for enough time to overpower this wave of attack.

  Then he and Wrenlow would have to move on. At least, he would have to move on. If he’d drawn the attention of the El’aras to the Dragon, then he couldn’t stay here any longer.

  Gavin lunged. The suddenness of it should’ve drawn the El’aras off guard. He twisted in the air, swinging his legs up and around, his muscles still loose and warmed from his practice.

  He connected with something, but the speed of his attack threw off his ability to determine what was taking place. He drove his heel all the way through, whipping his leg around, and kicking. As he slashed with the El’aras dagger, he was greeted with a flash along the blade. He had no idea whether that meant he’d connected, as the blade was so sharp and deadly it might only mean he’d cut through a table. He kicked off again.

  In the darkness, the only thing he could see was the various daggers all around him. There were still five, though one of them now rested on the ground. Gavin lunged for it, rolling and sweeping it away from whoever was there, and he now held it in his other hand.

  Both of the daggers glowed. There were four El’aras still out there, though the fifth might be alive. He picked out another target.

  Focusing his energy and thankful he still had enough reserves remaining, he brought the daggers back together, swinging them around in an arc as he darted forward. He swept them on either side, slicing at the El’aras as he dodged out of the way.

  One of the blades connected. He could feel it this time, though he wasn’t sure what he cut. Twisting the blade, he attempted to carve through the El’aras. Something surged through the blade. He rolled toward the far side of the tavern and landed near the entrance. He needed to get out, but as he reached for the door, he found it blocked. He dove off to the side, bringing the dagger up.

  It was just in time. Another blade swept toward him. There was a clang of metal on metal, a sound that rang out like a bell. He swept his leg around to kick at one of the attackers, who grunted. Gavin focused his power within himself, then flipped back to his feet and stabbed with the dagger.

  The blade caught nothing but air. His momentum carried him forward, and he twisted to the side. If nothing else, he needed to end up back on his feet. He landed near the door again.

  One of the El’aras nearby carved their blade toward him. Gavin ducked and brought up his own dagger, slashing above his head. It sunk into the wooden frame of the building. He jerked his hand back and
punched with the dagger clenched in his fist, twisting it at the end as he brought the blade toward the El’aras. Again he caught nothing but air.

  The strength he’d recovered was already starting to fade. He didn’t know how much longer he could withstand this kind of a fight, especially here in a confined space. He needed to get back outside where there was an advantage in fighting on the street. The El’aras wouldn’t be able to use the darkness against him as easily out in the open. And those he cared about would be less likely to be harmed.

  He jumped, flipping into the air and spinning his legs. One foot connected with an El’aras, and he landed on his shoulder. Pain flared, but he ignored it. His mind processed the pain and knew it was dislocated, though he’d done that before.

  He got up and popped his shoulder back into place, then darted toward the fallen El’aras. He wasn’t fast enough. The attacker was already moving.

  Gavin backed toward the wall. Three came toward him.

  But where is the fourth?

  There should’ve been another here, and though he’d kicked or punched one—he no longer knew which—he didn’t know where they’d gone.

  A voice shouted in his ear. “Gavin? Jessica said—”

  He hurriedly tapped the enchantment, cursing to himself.

  What was she thinking, waking Wrenlow up? He wasn’t going to be of much help here.

  Movement dragged across the floor near him. There was no sign of a glowing El’aras dagger near it, which meant that whoever was coming close to him was one of the disarmed attackers.

  Gavin jumped and crashed into something that knocked him back to the ground. His head throbbed, and he shook off the sudden dizziness that rolled through him in waves of agony.

  Light bloomed from the far end of the tavern. It allowed him to see the El’aras turn. He reacted by jumping forward, and he jammed his daggers into the back of one of the El’aras and kicked. He spun, swinging toward another, but this time found an emptiness where the El’aras had been.

  There were two or three remaining. Still too many.

  At the bottom of the stairs, lantern light revealed Jessica’s face as she looked out at him. “Gavin? I can’t see anything here. I roused the others—”