Wrenlow pulled a chair out and sat across from him. “I don’t like this,” he said.
“I don’t like it either.”
“What’re the odds of having two magical beings come after us in Yoran at the same time?”
“Not good,” Gavin said between drinks. He wiped his arm across his mouth before setting the ale back down.
“I’m serious.”
Gavin tipped back his drink, swallowed it quickly, and set the mug back down on the table in front of him. “I’m serious too. I don’t think the odds of any of this are good, which is what troubles me.”
“Why?”
“There’s a reason we’re in Yoran.”
“Because the jobs guided us here,” Wrenlow said.
Gavin looked up. He was drained, but it seemed as if he were just about to make some sort of connection he needed. “The jobs guided us, but it was something more than that. We were guided. Something else brought us here.”
“What’re you getting at?”
Gavin didn’t answer. Instead, he stood and walked to the kitchen to pour himself another mug of ale. He returned to his seat across from Wrenlow, who hadn’t moved. He was still leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, watching Gavin with a worried look in his eyes. “I’m not really getting at anything. I guess what I’m saying is that we’ve been in Yoran for a few months now.”
“We have,” Wrenlow said.
“Before that, we were in Jessup.”
“And before that, we were in Tial and then Unahf and—”
“I remember,” Gavin said.
They didn’t stay too long in those cities, though that was partly because the jobs had dried up. None of the cities were nearly as large as Yoran. In a city like this, situated on the northern border, it was easier to find more work. Because of the sheer size of Yoran, with several hundred thousand people living within its borders, there was an almost endless supply of jobs. The key was finding the right employer, but once they’d reached Yoran, the employer had sought him out almost immediately. Gavin hadn’t had any difficulty finding work.
It was almost too easy. He’d known from the beginning that things didn’t feel quite right, but the jobs had been the kind he’d almost been meant to take. It was like they’d been crafted for him, knowing that he didn’t take just any job or target. He needed a reason.
Tristan had always tried to work that out of him, wanting him to lose that side of himself, but Gavin had failed. It was one of the few times he’d disappointed Tristan during his training.
He closed his eyes, sleep almost claiming him as he remembered the first time he’d disappointed Tristan. There was a target in the riverside village of Carp. The man couldn’t have been more than his mid-twenties, with dark black hair, a mischievous smile, and a confident walk. Gavin had slipped along the rocks, moving quickly.
“You see your target?” Tristan had asked.
Gavin remembered looking out at the target, already calculating the various ways he could take him out. A drowning would be the cleanest, but it’d be the most difficult for him.
“You want it to look like an accident or to be obvious?” he’d asked his mentor.
“A good question, and any employer should specify. Some prefer not to be involved, whereas others want to send a message.”
“What kind of message?”
“The kind suggesting that those who oppose them will find a similar fate.”
Gavin had drifted forward and moved casually, though he’d stayed near the small buildings that lined the river. He’d kept the target in sight, which wasn’t difficult. The man hadn’t been moving that quickly, and Gavin still hadn’t felt completely comfortable with this.
“What did he do?” he had asked.
“What do you mean?”
“The target. What did he do?”
“You ask that question each time,” Tristan had said.
“Most times you answer.”
“You know you have to stop asking.”
“I don’t want to,” Gavin had said. “I want to know what he did.”
“Why would that change anything? A job is a job. That’s what you’re being trained for. You need to be prepared for the types of jobs you’ll be asked to do.”
Tristan had brought back his hand, and Gavin had twisted, ducking underneath the blow.
He’d expected a satisfied smile of Tristan, but it never came. Most of the time, when they were training, Tristan had offered him that reassurance when he’d done something well. In this case, there had been nothing but disappointment in his mentor’s eyes.
“You ask about what a target did, but all that should matter to you is what the client is willing to pay.”
Gavin could only stare and shake his head. “No.”
“No? That’s the nature of the job,” Tristan had said.
“Then I don’t want the job.”
“You know what happens if you leave.”
“I know… but I still want to know,” Gavin had said.
Tristan had watched him, and the disappointment had never left his face. “You’re training for a job. You won’t be able to serve if you fail me here.”
“I’m not trying to fail you. I’m just trying to understand. Don’t you think I’m going to do a better job if I understand the reason behind what you offer?”
Gavin had watched the target move along the street and hadn’t paid any attention to Tristan.
The blow had come out of nowhere. It had struck him in the face, knocking him down.
They had been standing between a pair of buildings, and he’d been trapped. He’d tried to raise his hand to deflect the next attack, but Tristan had been quick. More than that, he’d been the one to train Gavin and teach him all of his fighting techniques. He was a master of all of them and used that to his advantage. Tristan had pummeled Gavin and knocked him to the ground, beating him until everything had started to go black.
“You don’t get to question!”
That was the only thing that had lingered in his mind as he’d passed out.
Gavin shook himself from the memory, and he looked at his mug of ale.
“What is it?” Wrenlow asked.
“It’s nothing,” Gavin said, tipping back the mug and drinking.
“Something is troubling you.”
“Maybe it’s just an overactive imagination.” He glanced toward the door, nodding. “Get some rest. I don’t know when we’re going to need to move again, but if we have to make it look like Anna’s dead, it’s going to be a complicated assignment.”
“What about the Apostle?” Wrenlow asked. “I have my feelers out on that, but I haven’t been able to find anything so far.”
“I suspect we aren’t going to find anything.”
“Why?”
Gavin got to his feet, the chair he’d been sitting in tipping back and clattering to the ground far too loudly. He lifted it and swung it back into place before setting the mug of ale on the table. “Because I think we were meant to ask Anna.”
He strode toward the door, pausing there for a moment with his hand on the doorframe before stepping out into the darkness.
Wrenlow’s voice sounded in his ear. “What’re you doing? Where are you going? Don’t you need rest?”
Gavin resisted the urge to tell him he did. He was exhausted, and after having used his core strength, he didn’t really have all that much energy remaining. He needed to rest, if only so that he could fully recuperate. Instead, he wanted to be out in the night. To be alone.
“I’ll be fine. Get yourself some rest. We can talk in the morning.”
“Gavin—”
He tapped on the enchantment. As he walked through the city, he let the darkness and the quiet surround him. It was late enough that there weren’t many people out, and in the solitude of the night, he was able to find a sense of peace. He hurried along the streets, enjoying the quiet.
There was something about stalking through the city at night
that he found particularly comforting. After a while, he ended up on the street with the manor house. He didn’t know if he’d done so intentionally or if his subconscious had drawn him there. Either way, there was no movement inside.
Why had Anna returned there?
She had disappeared into hiding because they’d targeted her, but something had brought her back. That seemed significant to him, though he wasn’t entirely sure why. As he stared at the house, he remembered that she’d been in the upper room where he’d gone. Not only that—he had intervened before she’d found anything.
He made his way to the manor, and when he reached the outside wall, he lingered for a moment to listen. There was no sound of movement. In the darkness, he couldn’t see much and resisted the urge to pull out the El’aras dagger. He climbed over and crept through the yard toward the house.
Gavin hesitated. The bodies of the Sumter attackers were gone.
Had Thomas removed them?
He tested the door of the house, which was still unlocked. He hurried through the hall and up the stairs, padding as quietly as he could until he reached the second level. Once there, he lingered for a moment before heading straight to the room where he’d found Anna.
Why had she been here?
He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. Only then did he unsheathe the El’aras dagger. Thankfully, there was no glow from it.
He paused in front of the chest where Gaspar had found the rope. He sorted through the belongings inside but didn’t find anything valuable. There was a cloak, a blanket, and a dress. Probably all Anna’s.
He paused another moment and then started to flip through the wardrobe. This held only dresses, and there was nothing in any of them that he thought would be valuable. Perhaps to one of the El’aras, but not to him.
Gavin paused and moved back to the center of the room.
Why had she returned? I know that’s significant… but how?
As his eyes struggled to adjust to the darkness, he couldn’t make anything out other than shadows in the room. He was tempted to find a lantern, but that ran the risk of attracting attention. Maybe the El’aras dagger could help him find something. It was magical, and if there was anything here valuable to someone like Anna, it would be something equally magical.
He started to circle the room. As he did, he pointed the dagger at the walls and everything within the room while moving slowly, deliberately. He made an entire pass, but nothing caused the dagger to react. Not that he expected anything to change. It would’ve been too much good luck for that to be the case.
Gavin closed his eyes, holding the dagger out from him. It was almost as if he could sense something through his closed eyes, and he swung in a steady circle. As he did, there was a point where he began to feel a hint of resistance. He didn’t know if it was his imagination or not, but it felt somewhat like when Anna had caught the dagger. Maybe it wasn’t his imagination.
He moved toward the resistance, and when he opened his eyes, he found the dagger pointed at a stretch of empty wall. He walked to it and stood in front of it. “This?” he whispered to the dagger.
What am I doing?
He shouldn’t be talking, and certainly not to the dagger. If he wanted to talk to somebody, Wrenlow would certainly be willing to speak to him. All he had to do was turn on the enchantment, and his friend would be there. He might be sleeping, but Gavin was certain Wrenlow would wake up if he was needed.
He closed his eyes again, focusing on the wall. He turned the dagger, twisting it in place. As before, there came the sense of resistance, and this time he was certain he hadn’t imagined it. He opened his eyes, brought the dagger up, and pressed the blade into the wall. It was simple wooden paneling, and the El’aras blade went right through it like butter.
Gavin peeled back the paneling and froze. There was something within the wall—an access panel he’d overlooked. He reached in and pulled out a metal box suspended in the wall, then returned to the center of the room and popped open the box.
His eyes widened. Inside was what looked to be a fragment of crystal. It glowed softly, reminding him of the El’aras sword and dagger when there was magic around. He glanced over at the dagger, but it remained dark.
What was this?
The sound of creaking wood elsewhere in the home alerted him that he might not be alone. Gavin hesitated for a moment before turning to the door. It wasn’t worth it for him to linger here. Gathering the metal box and the dagger, he considered going toward the stairs, but he wasn’t about to risk getting caught if somebody was down there. Not with the crystal fragment and not until he knew what it was. If nothing else, it might be his safety net.
He tucked the box under his arm and turned toward the window. He paused for a moment, listening for the sound of movement around him. When he was satisfied there was no additional creaking, he almost turned toward the stairs again. Again there came a faint sound, little more than a scraping.
Gavin crawled out the window, hanging on the ledge for a moment before dropping. Since he’d done it before, he knew to roll, and he landed less awkwardly than he had the last time. He popped up to his feet and hurried across the yard by slipping between the bells trees.
He paused once he reached the wall. As he lingered there for a moment, he watched the window where he’d just been. A figure appeared in the window. Someone had returned.
The El’aras dagger didn’t glow, so whoever was there wasn’t magically connected, but the timing was suspect.
Why would they have come at the same time I had? Had they been following me?
It troubled him. The coincidence was too much. For that matter, the coincidences lately had all been too much. He scrambled up the wall and dropped down on the other side into the street, then hurried into the darkness of night.
Chapter Sixteen
Gavin lingered on the outskirts of the city, pacing along the street, though trying not to look as if he were. He was tired. There’d been no chance for him to rest, but he needed sleep. Everything within his body seemed to cry out for it.
Where was Cyran?
The fact that he wasn’t at home was surprising. Dawn had started to break, and with it would be daylight. All Gavin needed was some rest.
He remembered when he’d lost his friend one other time. Tristan had given him the assignment of finding Cyran, and it had been the only time Gavin had intentionally failed. He’d known that Cyran and several of the other students had snuck out from the compound, though he didn’t know why. Even though he was friends with Cyran, he was never close with the others. It was difficult for him.
Tristan had demanded Gavin find them. He knew the punishment for failure would be severe, but once he realized why they’d left, he hadn’t cared what happened to him.
Bristol and Horace, two of the younger trainees, were with Cyran. Both had been injured, though Cyran was not. Despite his denials, he’d been favored by Tristan for many reasons, not the least of which was his incredibly bright mind. The trainees’ injuries likely came from their sparring, though Bristol had burn marks along her jaw and her hands. When Gavin had found them, he’d believed that it had been an accident, though there were times when he wondered otherwise. He knew firsthand just how often Tristan could use violence as a motivator. None of them had wanted to return with him, at least not until they had a chance to recover. They’d known they wouldn’t have that opportunity with Tristan watching.
Gavin had left them alone to heal. The beating he’d received had been severe, though by that time in his training, he’d long ago learned how to withstand pain. Handling the beating for that punishment had not been difficult.
Cyran had never thanked him. Gavin didn’t know if Cyran understood just what he’d done for him, though the looks that Bristol and Horace gave him suggested that they were aware of what he’d done and what it’d meant. Gavin’s naturally rapid healing had helped conceal the full extent of his own injuries for his failings, and considering that he
didn’t want to ever share with others what he went through, he didn’t explain to them what Tristan had done to him.
Gavin pushed those thoughts away. Memories of that time kept coming to him, more often now than was useful. He needed to focus, which meant that he had to remove all external influences, and that included memories of his own training.
He clutched the metal trunk under his arm, trying to keep it covered by his cloak. The El’aras dagger was sheathed, as were his other knives, and he paced along the street. Thankfully, it was not all that busy at this time of the morning. There wasn’t anyone here who seemed to pay any attention to the fact that he’d been pacing here. Gavin hadn’t even been mixing up his movements, not the way Tristan had taught him. He knew better than that, but his mind was not only tired but distracted.
Finally, he caught sight of smoke drifting out from the chimney.
Had he been there the whole time?
It didn’t matter. He needed his old friend’s help.
Hurrying forward, Gavin reached the door and raised his hand to knock right as the door opened. Cyran jerked his head back and reached for something under his traveling cloak. When he realized who was there, he quickly calmed himself and smoothed his hands down the front of his cloak.
“Gavin, you startled me.”
“I wasn’t trying to. I was coming to you for help.” Gavin looked beyond Cyran, but he didn’t see anything inside the home. He glanced over his shoulder, along the street. “Where are you going at this time of the morning?”
“Nowhere.” Cyran took a step back and motioned for Gavin to come in. “Who needs healing now?”
“No one. Well, maybe me.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing other than extreme exhaustion.”
Cyran looked at him for a long moment with a determined expression in his eyes, then he turned and hurried to his kitchen. He returned a minute later with a steaming mug in hand and offered it to his guest. Gavin nodded his thanks and took a tentative sip. The drink had a bitter taste, but he immediately felt a jolt of energy coursing through him.
The Chain Breaker: Books 1-3 Page 17