The Chain Breaker: Books 1-3

by Holmberg, D. K.

  “What is it?”

  “Just something to keep you going.”

  “Is this something that Tristan taught you?”

  “Do you think he taught me everything I know?”

  Gavin looked around the inside of the home. Jars rested on the counter, some of which looked as if they’d been moved around recently. He was struck by the clutter. Cyran had always been neat and organized when working with Tristan. While studying poisons, it was essential to keep completely organized, mostly so that the poisons didn’t get contaminated. Gavin had learned that secret himself, knowing that were he to make a mistake, it might be his life that was forfeit. Though he didn’t know nearly as much about poisons as Cyran, he’d been forced to study them to the point where he could identify many, if not most, of the ones that Tristan used.

  The rest of the home didn’t appear nearly as cluttered. There were two chairs near the hearth, though there was no fire in it. He frowned.

  Hadn’t there been smoke drifting from the chimney?

  He glanced over at Cyran, who was resting in one of the chairs, waiting for an answer.

  “No,” Gavin said. “The same way that he didn’t teach me everything I know.”

  Cyran chuckled. “Maybe not, but you were always his favorite.”

  “It didn’t always feel like that. He didn’t have any problem abusing me when it served his purposes.”

  “You were never abused. Not the way that some of us were.”

  Gavin took a seat in the chair near the hearth. As he sipped the tea, he inhaled the fragrance within it, letting it fill his lungs. “You weren’t abused. I took the brunt of most of that.”

  “We were all abused, Gavin,” Cyran said. “You took the physical abuse. The rest of us… well, we took a different kind. Some of it wasn’t as bad as others, but you can be called stupid only so many times before you begin to believe it.”

  “Stupid? You were always one of his brightest.”

  “That’s not what he told me. And he made sure he told others how they were his favorite; how they were far more talented than me.”

  “He forced me to fight others. If I didn’t win, I wasn’t strong enough.”

  “You always won.” Cyran rested his forearms on his legs, leaning forward and studying him. “I always marveled at that. Even when you went up against some of the larger kids, you came out of it better.”

  “Better? I can’t tell you how many bones I broke,” Gavin said.

  “Bones heal.”

  “What doesn’t heal?”

  Cyran shook his head. “There are some things that don’t improve with medicines.”

  “That’s why you left,” Gavin said.

  “We all did. You took longer than the rest of us, but we all left.”

  Gavin took another sip of the tea. He really was starting to feel better, almost as if he could feel his core strength returning. It wasn’t the same as what he’d feel with a good night’s rest, however long that might be, but it was better than he’d felt in a while.

  “How long will this last?” he asked.

  “It’s an artificial stimulant. It’s going to make you feel more energized, but when you crash… I can’t tell you that it’s going to be pleasant.”

  “That isn’t an answer,” Gavin said.

  “I suppose not. You’re going to hurt.”

  “How so?”

  “You’re going to need to sleep. Like, seriously sleep. I know Tristan trained you so you don’t need as much as anyone else, but in this case, it’s going to make you sleep.”

  “When all of this is over, I think that might not be a bad idea.”

  Gavin wasn’t accustomed to it, but there was something to be said about a good night’s rest. For the most part, he got by on no more than a few hours at a time, and though he could function that way, it didn’t mean he felt well.

  “What did you need?” Cyran asked.

  “Information.”

  “What kind of information?”

  “We were visited by the El’aras last night,” Gavin said.

  Cyran sat up, shifting in place and looking at him. “The El’aras?”

  “We went back to the manor house. Gaspar thought it made sense to go and see if we could uncover anything about who hired me, but all we found were the El’aras.” He told Cyran about what had happened, including the fight with the men from Sumter on the way out. Cyran was quiet, watching him pensively. “When all was said and done, we dragged one of the El’aras out and brought her back to the tavern with us.”

  Cyran leaned forward. “Is she there now?”

  Gavin shook his head. “She’s gone. She’s El’aras, and powerful it seems, so ropes didn’t hold her all that well.”

  Cyran laughed nervously. “They didn’t try to kill you?”

  “Not this time.”

  Gavin took a deep breath and drank another sip of tea. He could feel his energy continuing to return with each one. He focused on the core energy within him, thinking about the power there and whether he could use anything within it to strengthen himself even more. He had never tried to use his core strength to replenish his own stores before, though such a thing should be possible. When he’d tried to use the energy in the past, it always left him incredibly weakened.

  He got to his feet, still holding the trunk under his arm. “I don’t know what I was hoping for by coming here. I guess I was thinking that you might’ve uncovered something more about the El’aras, but I know you didn’t want to look into it.”

  Cyran smiled, and he offered a hint of a shrug. “I can keep looking, but you know that I left Tristan with a purpose. Traveled in the South for a while…”

  “I know why you left,” Gavin said.

  “And I have a job here. A life. People I serve.”

  Gavin looked around Cyran’s home. It was sparsely decorated, more workshop than anything else. In that way, it reminded him of Tristan and the kind of places he preferred. He wasn’t altogether surprised. His own preferences tended toward Tristan’s as well. Partly that came from the years of training—or torment, such as it was.

  “I don’t need to keep you from whatever you were running off to,” Gavin said.

  “I wasn’t going anywhere.”

  “You were. When I came, you were heading out.”

  Cyran smiled tightly. “Maybe I was, but when my oldest friend—my only friend—comes to visit, I figure I owe it to him to be here for him. Especially considering how much trouble you’ve gotten me into since you’ve returned.”

  Gavin laughed. “I haven’t gotten you into any trouble. It wasn’t until just recently that I even bothered you.”

  “It’s not a bother. With you, it’s never a bother.”

  Gavin leaned back, finishing off the tea. He turned toward the door. “Don’t look too hard with the El’aras. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

  “I know how to be careful, Gavin,” Cyran said.

  “I know you do. And I know you aren’t going to do anything foolish, but… don’t get dragged back into this.”

  “What makes you think I will?”

  Gavin forced a smile. “I know how easy it is to be drawn into this life again. I know how hard it is to leave in the first place. You deserve better. You’ve always deserved better. That’s why I tried to protect you.”

  Cyran watched him, nodding. “You did what you could.”

  “I tried, but I never was as successful as I wanted to be.”

  “I don’t think anybody could’ve been successful against him.”

  Gavin lingered near the door, watching for a moment. There was something in the way Cyran said it that struck a nerve. “You really hate him, don’t you?”

  “Don’t you?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t deny he made my life miserable, but he also changed it. Were it not for him, I don’t know what would’ve happened to me.”

  “Have you ever considered that he was the one responsible for what happened to yo
u?”

  “I don’t think Tristan was the one who killed my parents. My brother. Everyone else in that home.” Gavin said it more forcefully than he intended and shook his head. “I’m sorry, Cyran. I’m tired.”

  “I understand. And I’m not saying Tristan was the one who killed them, but what if he was responsible for it? Have you ever considered that?”

  “Is he responsible for what happened to your family?”

  They were all orphans, or they had been until Tristan had taken them in and begun training them. Each of them had been given different assignments based on the skill set Tristan believed them capable of. For the most part, his analysis and assessment of someone’s inherent skill were incredibly accurate.

  It had been for Gavin. For Cyran too.

  “I don’t know,” Cyran said. “I looked, but I didn’t find anything.”

  “I’ve been looking,” Gavin said.

  “I know you have.”

  “You know that?”

  Cyran smiled again. “You’ve always been looking, Gavin. You aren’t so good at hiding your motivation as you would have others believe.” He leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. “Even when you were with us, you didn’t hide much.”

  “I didn’t try to,” Gavin replied.

  “You were always ambitious.”

  “That was how I didn’t take beatings.”

  “But you were also always willing to do what Tristan wanted of you,” Cyran said.

  “I wasn’t as willing as you would think.”

  “You were his favorite. I would’ve expected that, as his favorite, you did everything he asked of you.”

  Gavin found himself rubbing his jaw where it’d been broken. Tristan had beaten him when he’d failed to take out the target near the river. That had taken him a few weeks to fully recover from. In the time spent healing, he’d been forced to eat only liquids and hadn’t seen any of the other students.

  It was common for him not to see any of the other students though. Tristan had kept him separated—partly to train him and partly to create a division. Gavin had learned how to understand Tristan’s planning and recognize his manipulation. He’d been manipulated his entire life. Still, he didn’t hate his mentor.

  Gavin shook away those thoughts. “I haven’t thought about him this much for years.”

  “Really?”

  “I try not to. If I let myself sink into those old memories, it becomes… difficult.”

  “I have a hard time not thinking about it,” Cyran said.

  “Even though you got out?”

  “Some wounds haven’t completely healed.”

  Gavin held his gaze. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. You’re here. It’s… well, it’s nice having someone else who understands what we went through.”

  “It makes it harder though,” Gavin said.

  “I suppose it does.”

  “Not that I would change anything. I’m glad you welcomed me to Yoran.”

  Cyran laughed. “Yoran is a large city. You don’t need my welcome.”

  Gavin took a deep breath. He was feeling a little lightheaded, and the tiredness that had been threatening him started to bubble up. He focused on the core strength within him again. “I should let you go,” he said.

  “Are you sure?”

  “I am. Don’t dig too deep on the El’aras.”

  “You’ve already said that.”

  “Have I?”

  Cyran nodded. “You have, but you also told me that you’re tired, so I suppose that makes sense.” He smiled. “You should be careful.”

  “I was trained for this, you know.”

  “I know,” Cyran whispered.

  Gavin pulled the door open, and he headed out into the street. The daylight was unbearably bright, making it difficult for him to focus. His head throbbed.

  Was that because of the sun or something else?

  The strength within him started to fade. With each passing moment, it dissipated more and more.

  How long would I be able to stay awake?

  The tea didn’t work as long as he had expected. Maybe Cyran had lost his touch. Gavin was forced to dive into that core strength again, letting that energy fill him. He maintained his connection to it, using as much of it as he could as he powered through the street.

  He wandered and tried to keep his focus, which was difficult to do when it seemed as if the city had changed on him all at one time. The streets became unfamiliar. Gavin staggered, weakness washing over him. He wasn’t going to be able to make it.

  Something was off.

  Was I sick? Drugged?

  He looked around. It felt as if somebody was following him. Had the El’aras found him? They had poison. He’d seen it with how they used the blades. If they had slipped past him and cut him…

  He needed to keep moving. He needed help, and there was only one way to get it. He tapped on the enchantment but heard nothing on the other end.

  “Wrenlow?” He whispered his friend’s name as he continued along the street, staggering forward. “If you’re there, I need your help.”

  There was nothing but silence.

  Gavin stumbled and managed to catch himself before moving forward again. He had a vague sense of where he was in the city and had to hope that he could follow the direction of the sun in order to guide himself back to the Roasted Dragon. He’d been there often enough over the last few months that he should be able to go by instinct.

  His mind seemed to be spinning; everything around him moving.

  “Wrenlow?” He heard the concern in his own voice. He’d used so much strength and energy to survive over the past few days. He’d been awake for too long, and he’d tapped into his core strength too many times. He knew better than that.

  He staggered, dropping to his knees. “Wrenlow?” he said again.

  He looked up, noting the position of the sun. It was bright. So impossibly bright. Gavin blinked against it, and he scrambled once again to his feet. He had to call upon all of the strength within him. He had to find that energy to somehow reach the Dragon.

  “Wherever you are, Wrenlow, I need your help.”

  He stumbled again. As he crouched on the cobblestones, he could feel movement near him. He was in danger. He lunged forward, crawling, but he started to drift.

  Reach the Dragon. Rest. That was all he needed.

  He was tired. So tired.

  Movement nearby startled him, and he swung his fist uncontrollably. Tristan would be disappointed. He’d taught Gavin better than that.

  This wasn’t normal. Had he used too much of himself? This wasn’t the first time he’d felt this way, pushed to the edge of his reserves. Maybe he’d done it again. Even when Gavin had been tired during training, Tristan had wanted him to have control over his fighting technique and to be able to use every last bit of energy. If it were going to come down to death or putting every last bit of himself into an attack, Gavin needed to choose the latter.

  He could feel that energy within him, that drive to try harder. He had to summon some hidden strength. Even as he tried, he didn’t know where he was going to find it.

  A familiar voice near him drew his attention.

  “Cyran?”

  He resisted the urge to kick. If Cyran was there, then he was safe.

  Gavin finally drifted off, sleep claiming him.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “How do you feel?” Tristan asked.

  Gavin tried to hold his eyes open, but he was drained. Every part of his being seemed to scream against what was happening to him. He’d been awake for hours—days, really.

  I could barely stay alert, and now Tristan wanted me to find some way to remain awake even longer?

  “How am I supposed to feel?” His words came out slurred, his voice groggy, no different than his mind. He could feel thoughts crawling through his skull. Nothing seemed to work the way it should.

  “You have to learn how to fight through this.”


  Tristan was there, something striking Gavin on the side. Almost as if delayed, pain raced up along his flank, and he pushed it away. If nothing else, he’d learned that lesson well enough to know that he could ignore the pain within him. Tristan had made sure of it. He blinked to try to clear the sleepiness from his eyes and the fog that hung over his mind, but he couldn’t.

  “How am I supposed to ignore my body’s need for sleep?” he asked.

  Something else struck him, this time on the other side. Gavin cried out, but that was rewarded with another strike. Any reaction to pain was an invitation for another attack. He knew better. He knew what Tristan would do to him if he gave any sort of response.

  “Within us, we all have the innate ability to tap into something more,” Tristan replied.

  “More?”

  Gavin struggled with what his mentor was teaching him. It seemed as if there was a lesson there, but within that lesson he felt nothing but confusion.

  “The core part of your being. Your strength. You have it. I’ve seen that within you, Gavin.” With that, Tristan struck him in the gut.

  Gavin doubled over, trying to fight the pain off and steady his breathing, neither of which were easy. He panted as he struggled to control all of his emotions, the pain that was rolling through him, and the sense of agony that filled him.

  He had to find some way to do so. Even as he attempted to hold onto that emotion and that sense of pain, he could feel something moving near him.

  Gavin turned, and when Tristan struck, he blocked.

  “Good,” Tristan said.

  He was little more than a blur, though Gavin doubted that was actually true. As far as he knew, Tristan was right across from him.

  “You need to find the sense of strength within you, and then you can hold onto that. When you learn how to access that core strength, you will find something you can command when everything else is failing you.”

  “How?”

  “I can’t tell you how to find your core strength. It’s different than mine.”

  Another strike, this time battering at his shoulder. Gavin crumpled and wanted nothing more than to lie there, but he knew better. If he were to stay in place, motionless, another strike would come.