The Chain Breaker: Books 1-3

by Holmberg, D. K.

  Tristan wouldn’t quit until he was beaten. Broken. Even destroyed.

  Gavin got up slowly. There was a kick to his side, but he ignored it. He heard laughter.

  Find your core strength.

  He had no idea whether there was any possibility of doing that. He had no idea whether or not he had that within him. Maybe he didn’t possess what Tristan believed him to. Only, everything else Tristan had taught him had been accurate. Everything else he’d been working on had served him.

  Why wouldn’t this help me as well?

  Gavin tried to dive deep within his sense of self, searching for some awareness or power, but even as he did, he didn’t find anything. Movement caught his attention, and he tried to turn and twist, to be ready for the next attack. When Tristan struck, Gavin caught it with his arms and deflected it.

  “Better,” Tristan said.

  “When can I sleep?”

  “When you defeat me.”

  Gavin wanted to tell him that it’d be impossible even if he weren’t sleep-deprived, but that answer wasn’t going to satisfy Tristan. He knew better, which meant that he was going to have to figure out whatever answer Tristan wanted to hear. Maybe it really was a matter of beating him.

  Not that Gavin thought that such a thing was even possible. He had faced Tristan many times using all of the different fighting styles he’d been taught, and never once had he come close to actually defeating him. Now that he was exhausted, there was no hope for him.

  Core strength.

  Those words seemed to reverberate in his mind, a demand made by Tristan. Gavin tried to summon that strength by thinking about what he was asked to do, but he couldn’t come up with anything. He felt helpless as he struggled.

  Another blow struck him from the side, this time forcing him to roll over. He landed on his back and stared up at the ceiling. The lanterns around him provided a bit of light, though not nearly as much as he would’ve liked. Gavin was never able to see that well in the dark, and he always complained about the lighting in the room. Tristan preferred the darkness and used it to his advantage. Maybe this had something to do with Gavin’s fear of the dark.

  Even as tired as he was, his mind drifted to the sounds of whimpering—the sounds of when his parents had been murdered and taken from him. He’d been so young that he couldn’t remember anything else, but the sounds of their deaths stayed with him. He suspected they always would.

  Gavin heard Tristan’s footsteps on the stone as he approached again. He rolled as he threw his arms out in a blocking pattern, catching Tristan’s leg. He twisted his wrist and jerked, not caring whether he was successful. All he cared about was sleep.

  He climbed back on his feet and drove his elbow down, slamming into… nothing.

  Pain jolted up his arm. Something cracked. He could feel the pain and the agony within the broken bone, and he knew he wasn’t going to get out of this without more suffering.

  Now that one of his arms was useless, how was he going to be able to defeat Tristan?

  Gavin crawled and tried to stand. “I can’t beat you. Not like this.”

  “You only think you can’t beat me like this. You need to find it within yourself.”

  “How?”

  “By drawing upon your core strength.”

  Gavin struggled, wanting nothing more than to prove himself to Tristan. That was all he ever wanted. Tristan demanded obedience and respect, and the price for failing him was too great. He didn’t want to fail his mentor. None of the students wanted to.

  His left arm hung useless as he got to his feet. There was pain, but he knew how to push it away. He didn’t know how badly he was injured, but he’d experienced enough breaks in his training to be familiar with that kind of agony.

  He held himself up and looked all around him, trying to clear the fatigue from his mind. For a moment, he was able to. Gavin didn’t know if that was only his imagination or not.

  How could I suddenly have such clarity?

  He tried striking again, but this time there wasn’t the same strength within him. As he attempted to kick, he couldn’t get his body to work how it needed to. He could feel that there was something wrong with him. When he tried to focus his mind, he couldn’t feel anything other than a sense of pain. With that pain came panic. Gavin tried to keep moving, but everything within him was screaming and fighting what he was feeling inside.

  Tristan attacked again. Gavin could feel the whistle of the wind as it came toward him. He tried to ignore it, focusing instead on the strength within him. That was what Tristan wanted him to do—to find that core energy. But he wasn’t even sure how to do that.

  What did it mean?

  He rolled off to the side, trying to avoid the next attack. There was nothing in him.

  So far, I’ve managed to survive, but for how much longer?

  Gavin struggled, trying to stand again. Pain and fatigue mingled and made everything difficult for him. He strained, wanting nothing more than to get up.

  That was what Tristan wanted him to do. If he could get to his feet again, then he might be able to fight back. Gavin struggled. Everything within him throbbed from pain. He could barely move his arm, and the ache of it left him practically trembling.

  “You have to find your core,” Tristan said.

  It sounded so easy, but he strained to figure out how.

  Gavin could feel movement near him. He tried to do as Tristan suggested, turning his attention inward. Within himself, there was a little bit of strength from the reserves of energy he still had. He focused on that while thinking about what Tristan had told him, thinking about the power he needed to find.

  If there was energy there, how was I supposed to access it?

  He was tired. So tired. Everything he’d been through screamed against him, struggling to make sense of what was happening. Gavin knew he needed to find some way to get to freedom, to survive this, but with every passing moment, he could feel failure looming.

  Somewhere near him, Tristan laughed—a sound Gavin had come to hate. In all their training, the man made a point of taunting him and reminding him of just how little he could do. Tristan had defeated him time and again, and he always showed Gavin just how helpless he was to withstand that kind of attack. He held onto that irritation. Maybe there was something within it that he could use.

  Gavin turned toward the movement he detected. When he felt the air around him surge, he jumped. There was something deep within him that demanded he jump, and he held onto that feeling. By focusing on that power, he turned and spun in the air to find the right position. When he landed, pain jolted up his arm, but he ignored it.

  He swept his leg, kicking where he’d detected the sense. He swung his fist at the same time. The combination connected, and between the two, he managed to strike. Gavin leapt forward, holding onto the pain and the rage, and he let himself be filled with that anger. When his fist connected, he turned and rolled off to the side.

  “Enough,” Tristan said.

  Gavin got up, and he took a deep breath.

  Tristan nodded. “Better.”

  “That’s all I get?”

  “What more do you need?”

  “I want to be told I’m doing well.”

  Tristan came close enough that Gavin could see him despite the blood and tears in his eyes. He struggled to maintain focus. Up close like this, not only could he see his mentor, but he could smell him too. Most of the time, Tristan smelled of pine, along with a sweet undercurrent that Gavin had never identified. This time, the pine seemed almost pungent and practically overwhelmed him. The sweetness was absent.

  “If you want to be told that you’re doing well, then you need to do well. I’m not going to give out praise just because you want it,” Tristan said, then turned away from him.

  Suddenly, he spun back around while sweeping his leg. Gavin darted back, bringing his knee up in a partial block, but he attacked at the same time. He used his good arm, swinging his fist, but Tristan was prepar
ed for that.

  What he wasn’t prepared for was Gavin swinging his injured arm and shoulder toward him. It throbbed as it slammed into Tristan’s jaw, but he knocked the man down.

  Gavin pounced. He landed on top of Tristan, and with his good arm, he started to punch. Up close like this, he could feel the strength within Tristan. He pulled on that energy, calling on it, and he pummeled. He used everything within him to fight. He punched over and over, and with each one, he could feel something within him exploding with strength he didn’t know he had.

  “Enough,” Tristan said again.

  Gavin slowly climbed off. He’d thought he was tired before, but the exhaustion that washed over him now was unlike that. He panted, the pain making it difficult to focus on anything other than the steadiness of his breaths.

  “What did you feel?” Tristan asked.

  Somehow, he didn’t seem to be harmed. Gavin thought he’d pummeled him to the point where he should’ve been injured in some way, but there was no evidence that anything had happened to him.

  “Anger.”

  “Of course you felt anger. What else did you feel?” Tristan asked.

  “I don’t know. What was I supposed to feel?”

  “Where did that strength come from?”

  Gavin leaned forward, resting his hands on his thighs. “I don’t have any strength.”

  “I would disagree. Look at how you suddenly were able to attack when you didn’t have anything left before. You had strength. Where did it come from?”

  Gavin didn’t know.

  “Find that place,” Tristan continued. “That’s your core. That’s what I want you to learn to reach into. When you can master that, you will find that you can be stronger than you ever believed. When you can understand the nature of that core power within yourself, then you will be unstoppable.”

  “Unstoppable?”

  Tristan watched him. “More than you could ever know.” He slipped an arm around Gavin, guiding him forward. “Come. We will get you healed, and then you will rest. You might find that you need to sleep for longer than you are used to sleeping, but after what you did today and the success you had, I would say that you earned it.”

  “Is that praise?”

  “I told you that you would get praise when you did well.”

  Gavin smiled. Praise from Tristan was rare, and when he got it, he valued it. He cherished that praise, holding onto the sense that he’d done well. He slept for days.

  When he came back around, something was different. Tristan forced him to reach into that core power again and again, and Gavin found it easier to do each time.

  The memory started to fade, and Gavin opened his eyes. He quickly assessed himself for injuries, but there didn’t appear to be any. Whatever had happened had left him unharmed, just fatigued.

  He sat up and looked around. The room was dark, and he jumped up, realizing that he was in a small room. He spun in place, trying to get a sense of where he was.

  The El’aras dagger rested on a chair near the bed.

  His bed.

  The Dragon.

  He had been brought back.

  How?

  Gavin slipped into his clothes. As he strapped on his belt, he made sure his knives were in place, then flipped the dagger into the belt as well. He pulled his cloak over his shoulders and looked around the rest of the room for anything else but didn’t see anything. There was only Jessica’s belongings. A brush. A hairpin. Nothing else. It was almost as if she’d never been with him, and as he stood there and looked at everything in the room, he couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps it would’ve been better for her had she not.

  Gavin pushed those thoughts out of mind. He opened the door and headed down into the tavern. He felt a sense of movement behind him and spun around.

  Wrenlow approached, dressed in a loose-fitting jacket and pants. He studied Gavin, worry wrinkling his youthful face. He scratched his chin where a beard had started to grow, though not nearly as much as what Gavin knew Wrenlow wanted. He always wanted to look older and had been that way ever since they’d met.

  “Gavin? You should still be sleeping.”

  “I think I’ve slept enough.”

  “You haven’t. I’ve seen you like that before. Usually you need days to recover.”

  “I don’t know that we have days. With what’s going on, and the El’aras, and with Hamish, and the sorcerer”—Wrenlow took a step toward him, resting his hand on Gavin’s arm—“you still need to rest.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Are you sure?” There was a look of real concern on Wrenlow’s face.

  Gavin nodded. “I’m sure. How did I get back here?”

  “What do you remember?”

  “I remember my energy fading. I had focused myself for so long and so hard that I’d pushed too far. I knew I had, and when I went and saw Cyran—”

  “Your poisoner friend?”

  “I’m not so sure he wants to be called a poisoner anymore. He’s made a point of trying to be more respectable.”

  “You don’t think that poisoning is respectable?” Wrenlow asked, smiling.

  “It’s not so much what I think, it’s what he thinks. Regardless, he’s tried to become more respectable… well, I guess more.” Gavin shook his head, trying to think through what happened. He could barely remember being at Cyran’s house. He’d been given something that had built up his energy. “Anyway, as I was leaving his home, my strength started to fade, and that’s why I called you.” He looked up, frowning at Wrenlow. “How did you find me?”

  “I almost didn’t. The sound through your enchantment made it difficult, but there was a particular call that told me where you were.”

  “A call?”

  “You were near the central market,” Wrenlow said.

  The central market was not at all where he should’ve been going, which seemed unusual. Even when he was exhausted, even wiped as he was, Gavin would’ve expected he could maintain some sense of focus. In the past when he’d been as tired, he’d been able to use his core strength in order to find his way. Then again, it’d been a long time since he’d pushed himself that hard. There hadn’t been the need.

  “I had something with me,” Gavin said.

  “You had the dagger. I made sure to bring it.” Wrenlow glanced down at Gavin’s waist. “You have it.”

  “Not the dagger. There was a metal box. I found it in the manor house—”

  “I thought there wasn’t anything in the house.”

  “I went back. After I left here, I went back and found something in the wall. It was a…” Gavin wasn’t entirely sure how to describe what it was, only that it’d likely be El’aras-made, especially because it was in Anna’s home. He might be able to use it or trade it, but only if he could figure out what it was and what it might be worth. “Anyway, I found something.”

  “You didn’t have anything with you. You were lying on the ground. People were almost trampling you.”

  “What?” He could’ve sworn he’d heard a voice near him. That voice had seemed to know him, and there was something familiar within it.

  Could I have been mistaken?

  Gavin didn’t think he was. He remembered the way that voice had called him, the way it sounded, and the way that it seemingly told him it was going to help.

  “That wasn’t you?” he asked Wrenlow.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I…” Gavin sagged. He tried to reach for his reserves of power, but even as he did, something about it was off. Strange. He attempted to dive within it, searching for a way to replenish himself, but he couldn’t. He stumbled, and Wrenlow caught him and helped him back to his feet.

  “Gavin? I told you that you needed to sleep.”

  “Something is wrong.”

  “You’re exhausted. You’ve been going hard for the last few days.”

  Gavin tried diving into that reserve of power once more. With even a little bit of sleep, it should’ve been replenish
ed. He was familiar enough with this process that he knew it should be there.

  Instead, there was nothing.

  He tried to draw himself up, but he didn’t have the strength to do so and slumped to the ground. Wrenlow leaned over him. Gavin looked up at his friend, and a worried thought came to him.

  What if Cyran had done something to me?

  Chapter Eighteen

  When Gavin came back around, he slowly opened his eyes. There had been no dreams, nothing of his training, and nothing of his past. That might be for the best.

  He looked over at Jessica sleeping next to him, as she had been doing since her injury. She’d survived but wasn’t strong enough yet to make it down to the tavern. Gavin didn’t know when she would be fully recovered, but he hoped it would be soon. For now, he was thankful she lived. He ran his fingers through her hair before sitting all the way up and scooting to the edge of the bed.

  Wrenlow had left him fully dressed, and Gavin leaned over to collect the rest of his things. He reached for his knives but changed his mind and grabbed the El’aras dagger instead. Once he pulled it free, he ran his hand along the blade. The writing there was not familiar to him, though perhaps it should be.

  Gavin took a few slow breaths.

  Why was I suddenly thinking about my training so much?

  It had been years. Most of the time, he was aware of it more as a distant thought, but never quite so acutely. In this case, he found himself thinking back on Tristan almost daily. Maybe that was simply because he was here in Yoran and had been spending time around Cyran.

  Gavin held onto the El’aras dagger as he got to his feet. He stumbled and caught himself. Hesitating for a moment, he reached for the reserves of power within him, but as he did, he could feel that something was still off. Even after resting more, he still hadn’t replenished his strength.

  He looked back at the bed. Maybe he hadn’t been sleeping enough. He certainly had been sleep-deprived lately, and it wasn’t unthinkable that he could merely be exhausted, but the idea that this was just the result of fatigue surprised him.