The Chain Breaker: Books 1-3

by Holmberg, D. K.

  Why would he do so? Had he known what Cyran intended?

  “Why not?” Wrenlow asked. “Would he simply allow you to go away?”

  “I think he’d view finding him as another test.”

  “Why would he test you in such a way?”

  Gavin shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  He looked around the tavern and watched as Jessica and Gaspar talked with Erica. He glanced at Imogen, who remained quiet as she watched the conversation from the far side of the room. Her fingers tapped in something like a pattern while she observed everything, but stopped when she caught sight of Gavin looking in her direction.

  Eventually, he’d need to look for Tristan. But right now was the first time he didn’t necessarily want to go venturing anywhere else. He was content. Maybe that was what troubled him the most. Any time he had a sense of contentment in his life, something always happened to disrupt it or strip it away from him.

  Taking a deep breath, Gavin closed his eyes. “I’m going to rest a little while.”

  “Now?”

  “Gaspar is going to get the details I need for this job, and I figure that between the two of you, you can look into anything she tells you. She has a marker that she says was left behind when her son was abducted. Why don’t you look into that, see if there’s anything you can find out about it?”

  “What did it look like?”

  “A series of triangles with a circle around it.”

  “What?” Wrenlow sat up and cocked his head, looking at Gavin for a long time before turning to watch Gaspar and Erica. “Are you sure about that?”

  “Pretty sure. Why?”

  “I need to know what exactly it looked like.”

  Gavin leaned over, and he traced the shape on the table. He watched Wrenlow as he did, and the other man’s eyes widened.

  “What is it?” Gavin asked.

  “I recognize that symbol. That’s a marker for the Captain.”

  Chapter Three

  Gavin opened his eyes but couldn’t see through the darkness all around him. A haze clouded his mind. Tristan knew how much he hated the darkness and how much he struggled with it.

  Why would he do this to me now?

  Tristan must have placed something over his eyes. Gavin tried to shift and throw the blindfold off of his face, but there wasn’t any way for him to remove it.

  A binding pinned his arms to his sides. Was it leather, or was it rope again this time? Each time Tristan had bound him, he’d wanted Gavin to focus on that core strength, that energy that filled him, to break free. Gavin understood that each one was a test, Tristan’s way of challenging him, but he’d succeeded every time so far.

  There would come a time when he wouldn’t, but he hoped it would be quite some time before that happened. He didn’t want to disappoint Tristan.

  He tried again to look around, to see anything at all, but he couldn’t. He moved his hands and feet, which were free, but the bindings around his torso, arms, and legs trapped him in such a way that he could do little else.

  “Tristan?” Too much panic crept into his voice. That was a mistake. When it came to his training, revealing fear was considered a weakness. Gavin knew better than to show any vulnerability.

  He gathered himself, holding onto his strength balled up inside, and tried to focus on the bindings around him. The last one had been made of leather, which meant that this one would be something stronger. So far, Gavin had been able to snap his way free of all the bindings Tristan used, but eventually…

  No. He couldn’t think about what would happen when he failed.

  Tristan did not suffer failure well.

  He tensed and strained, and something cut into his arms and legs. It took Gavin a moment to decide what it was.

  Rope.

  Tristan had bound him in rope.

  The thickness of the rope suggested that it would be almost impossible for him to break free. He struggled against it but couldn’t escape.

  He thought about what Tristan had told him before, the way he’d wanted Gavin to find someplace deep inside of himself, to tap into a different sort of strength. But even as he focused on that, Gavin wasn’t entirely sure there was anything for him to draw upon.

  He strained again and again, and he failed again and again. His body grew sore and numb as he lost track of how long he was there, focusing on the energy within him and the power he strained against. Each time, he tried to push outward, holding pressure against the ropes.

  There was movement near him, and he stopped struggling. Gavin turned his head in its direction and listened to the sounds coming toward him. It was soft; the steady footsteps of somebody approaching him.

  Something struck him on the side of the face.

  Gavin’s head rolled with the force of the blow. It hurt, but he’d learned how to push that pain down, to suppress it so he didn’t experience anything. The next blow came, sharper, from a different angle.

  The wind guided him, the soft breeze of the blow telling him with just enough time how to anticipate it, and Gavin twisted his head so he could absorb most of it. At the same time, the blindfold came off. He could see.

  Tristan stood in front of him. He was a muscular man, about the same height as Gavin, and brown of complexion and hair. There was a blazing intensity from him. Whenever they trained, he was always dressed in leathers that protected him. Gavin rarely managed to strike with enough force to injure him, though he had never really wanted to hurt Tristan. It was more the challenge of it and a desire to break through his protections.

  “Better,” Tristan said.

  “I’m not going to be able to break these ropes,” Gavin said.

  “Are you so sure?”

  “I can’t tear through these.”

  “You can’t because you choose not to.”

  “It’s not a matter of choice. It’s a matter of knowing the ropes are too thick to work through,” he said, struggling against them while talking to Tristan.

  “Then you will stay here,” Tristan said.

  “For how long?”

  Gavin was accustomed to being forced to stay in one place for extended periods of time. He wasn’t at all surprised that Tristan would hold him here.

  “Until you break free of the bindings.”

  “And if I can’t?”

  “Then you can’t.”

  Tristan slapped him, catching him on the left cheek with a sharp blow that overwhelmed his ability to ignore the pain. That pain sent Gavin wanting to pull away, tears streaming down his face. Because he’d allowed himself to cry, Tristan would be irritated enough to strike him again. He waited for the next blow, which would be just as sharp and just as painful, but it never came. He turned, bracing himself for the attack, but there was none.

  Tristan backed away. “You have the strength within you, Gavin Lorren. You have always had that strength within you. You must find it.”

  “How?”

  “If I were able to tell you, then you wouldn’t be able to find it.”

  “That doesn’t make sense.”

  “It makes perfect sense, especially if you understood the power you possess.”

  “I don’t possess any power.”

  “Not with that attitude, you don’t.”

  Gavin continued to strain against the ropes, but he could do nothing to escape from them. He tried pulling on them, struggling with the bindings. At least now that his blindfold had been removed, he could see what was holding him. The room was small, just enough to contain the chair he sat in, along with a basin near the wall. Tristan blocked his view of the door, though he could make out the faint outline of it. The thin light trailed into the room, barely enough for him to see. A faint glow surrounded Tristan. That was probably Gavin’s imagination, or the effort he put into trying to break through the ropes.

  The ropes were wrapped tightly all around him. His hands and feet were as free as he’d suspected, but he couldn’t even move his fingers up to try to grasp for a section of the ro
pe. He tried to shimmy his legs to loosen his bindings, but that didn’t work either.

  Gavin struggled again, and then he threw himself back.

  Maybe I could break through the chair.

  He strained, jerking against the straps and trying to pry his arms free, but every attempt failed. The bindings cut into his skin. Gavin pushed that pain away, ignoring the surge of agony that ripped through him.

  His mentor had taught him how to do everything he knew. And now he wanted Gavin to learn how to break free of these ropes. Only, the chair was too stout for him to shatter. How was he supposed to break through ropes if he couldn’t even break through the chair they were wrapped around?

  He sat there and waited. Eventually, Tristan would have to return. He would come back and untie Gavin, or perhaps he would pose another challenge.

  He never did.

  Time passed. Gavin’s throat began to dry. His bladder burst, and he soiled himself. Still Tristan didn’t return.

  Gavin waited. This had to be some sort of test. Eventually Tristan would return. But as time went on, he slowly realized that his mentor wasn’t going to come. If he was going to get out, he’d to have to break free, much the way Tristan told him he’d have to.

  Gavin had no idea what was required, but he didn’t think he had the necessary strength. The bindings around him were too tight, and he didn’t have any way to loosen them. If Tristan somehow believed he’d be able to rip through them with strength, then he was mistaken.

  Frustration filled him. Gavin focused on his training, looking for some solution he had yet to see. Oftentimes, Tristan had already shown him the answer, and Gavin only had to find it. Too often, though, it was too difficult.

  He focused on the energy within him, what Tristan had called a core reserve of energy. A place of power. It was deep within him, and if he focused enough, if he dove within that power, Gavin might be able to call upon it and use that to get free. He steadied himself, breathing in and out, holding onto that sense of energy.

  There.

  Gavin pressed on the bindings wrapped around him, holding onto them as tightly as he could. The ropes strained, and he could feel the pressure around him, everything working into his flesh.

  Still he pushed.

  There was that core reserve of power.

  But with as long as he had gone without food and water—time he’d lost track of—Gavin doubted whether he would even have enough strength or reserve to break free.

  Even if I did, would Tristan know that I was free?

  Maybe Tristan didn’t care.

  Gavin no longer knew whether any of this mattered to the man. It was possible that Tristan had only wanted him tested; to starve, to suffer. It wouldn’t be the first time Tristan had tormented him in such a way, though it would be the first time he’d withheld food and water. Of course, Gavin was getting older. As he aged, the challenges posed to him became more difficult.

  He reached for that power deep within him. He could feel that core energy simmering beneath the surface. Gavin drew upon it, and the power exploded outward.

  The ropes resisted him, but then they snapped apart.

  Gavin sagged back in the chair. He’d broken free of only the ropes around his arms, and he picked at the ones around his legs—a task that proved almost more difficult than he was capable of doing in this state.

  He stood, wobbling slightly.

  How long have I gone without food or water?

  He staggered across the room. A basin of water rested there, and he picked it up, sipping at it. He knew better than to lap too hungrily at the water, especially after having gone as long as he must have without it. Gavin set the water down and breathed out, then leaned one hand on the door. He pulled it open and found Tristan sitting on the other side.

  “Good,” he said.

  “That’s all?”

  “What more do you think I should say to you?”

  “You left me there.” He could barely get the words out. “Tormented me. You starved me.”

  “Good.”

  “You need to stop saying that.”

  “Because you feared death?”

  Gavin took a step back, staring at Tristan.

  Was that why?

  He didn’t think so. In his training with Tristan, he’d learned that death was a part of life. Fighting meant losing. Eventually, he would die. He had long ago come to terms with that.

  The one key lesson Tristan had always tried to instill upon him was that when he fought, and when he eventually died, he should do so for the right reason. He should do so knowing that he’d fought the way he wanted to. If he trained well and was prepared, then any fight he entered would be one he could win.

  Gavin leaned on the wall. “What now?”

  “Now you prepare for—”

  Tristan darted forward, driving his fist toward Gavin.

  He was tired, but he knew this was another aspect of the testing. He dropped and spun his leg, trying to hook Tristan’s, but he wasn’t nearly as quick as he normally was. He tried to slam his leg into Tristan and trip him, but Tristan overpowered him.

  Gavin stumbled forward, and he smashed his fist into Tristan’s shoulder. Tristan grabbed his arm, twisting it behind his back, and then threw him forward.

  Gavin stumbled again and then staggered away.

  Tristan shook his head. “Better, but you still have work to do.”

  He jumped, spinning in the air, and Gavin recognized the technique. It was one they’d been working on recently. Gavin threw the appropriate block and then twisted, dropping down and punching the area where Tristan would land. He missed, everything half a step too slow.

  Tristan flipped his leg around, catching Gavin in the back of the head with his heel. Gavin sprawled forward and didn’t bother getting up. He didn’t think he’d be able to.

  Tristan stood over him, glaring down. “Get moving.”

  “No.”

  “If you don’t get moving, you’re going to take a knife to the back.”

  “What makes you think I’m not going to take that anyway?”

  “Because you’re going to get moving.”

  Gavin pulled himself up, moving slowly. Even as he did, he didn’t know if it mattered. He could barely get himself going. Everything within him ached, a pained sense that left him with agony.

  He got to his knees. When Tristan spun and twisted with a kick, Gavin reacted by throwing out his arm. He blocked, but barely so. Tristan smiled at him, a grim expression to it.

  Gavin was prepared for the next strike. He deflected it and then went sprawling forward again. He rolled off to the side. It was a struggle to maintain movement. He attempted to get back up, but even as he did, he could feel Tristan barreling toward him again.

  Gavin twisted, using everything in his ability to get back to his feet. There was another thing he could try. He somersaulted forward and crashed into Tristan’s legs.

  Tristan laughed as he stepped off to the side, and the sound of that laughter set him on edge. Gavin launched, driving forward with both fists, trying to catch Tristan in the belly. Still, the man laughed.

  Gavin rolled again, kicking outward. Most of the time, he had to get lucky to catch Tristan off guard. He didn’t know if he’d be lucky this time, but he was determined to throw himself at Tristan, even though his mentor didn’t even seem to be fighting back.

  He kicked and missed, and Tristan laughed again. He lunged toward Tristan, twisting and rolling, but his punch met nothing but air. He spun. Slowly his strength was returning. More than that, he could feel his core strength replenishing.

  Maybe that was a mistake. Tristan had warned him that drawing upon core strength too often—and too powerfully—might drain his energy in such a way he wouldn’t be able to recover. Gavin didn’t know if it was true or not, but he was determined to defeat Tristan this time, which would involve using as much power as he could. He didn’t care, and even if he did, that wouldn’t have stopped him.

  Fr
om a distance, he could see Tristan trying to reach the hallway. He was still laughing. At least, he was in Gavin’s mind. Wrapped up as he was in his core strength, Gavin felt that energy roll through him as he held onto that power. He sprinted to catch up and then launched at Tristan, grabbing his shirt and throwing him. Tristan slammed into the wall and went ricocheting back.

  Tristan got to his feet and grinned at him. It seemed as if Gavin could never hurt him, as if anything he did was little more than an irritant. Just once, Gavin wanted to do something that would actually hurt the other man.

  “Better,” Tristan said. “You learned to draw upon your strength.”

  “You told me I should be careful with it.”

  “You should be careful with it unless you are suffering. There are times when drawing upon your core strength is critical. Not only for your survival but for the survival of others who might be depending upon you.”

  “What happens if I overuse it?”

  “Don’t,” Tristan said.

  “I don’t know if I have enough control over it to trust not to do that.”

  “I think the opposite is true. I think your experience with the others, even as weak as they are, is what makes you stronger.”

  Gavin took a step toward Tristan and nearly staggered. The strength within him started to fade again. As he tried to reach for Tristan, he fell, stumbling forward.

  Tristan was at his side, and rather than trying to harm Gavin, he instead lifted his student. “Perhaps I was a bit too harsh,” he whispered.

  “What was too harsh?”

  “The beating after you broke free.”

  “I thought you said that hardened me.”

  “It does, but you can’t get so hardened that you don’t have a core of compassion within you.”

  “Compassion?”

  Tristan looked down at him, and Gavin had a hard time keeping his focus. More than that, he had a hard time thinking of his mentor as someone who had any compassion in him. Most of the time with Tristan, there was nothing but the edge. The violence. The desire to train. Gavin knew he would eventually need to be able to do what Tristan asked of him, to have the power he wanted for him. Gavin knew he would eventually need to be able to handle himself the way Tristan expected. He had no idea what Tristan was training him for, only that whatever it was had to be important.