The Chain Breaker: Books 1-3

by Holmberg, D. K.

  Dark shadows swirled around him, pressing on either side.

  He pulled the constable to the side of the road, propping him up against a nearby building. He needed to get the man help. This would also be an easy way for him to ingratiate himself with Davel Chan, especially given the tension between them ever since the attack on the Captain’s home. Gavin needed to keep peace—at least as much as possible, considering how he had possession of the jade egg, something the constables wanted back from him.

  A shout echoed down the street. The other constable? Gavin checked on the man, making sure that he was fine, before darting forward.

  When he rounded a corner, he found another constable—probably the other one he’d seen—lying on the ground, resting near one of the streetlights. Much like the other, this man twitched.

  What was going on?

  The constable was alive, though his skin was not cold like the last one’s had been.

  Gavin checked him over, searching for any sign of other injuries, but found nothing. Either he had been jumped, hit in the head, or…

  The El’aras dagger started to glow softly.

  Or has it been glowing the entire time?

  Gavin hadn’t been paying attention to it, which meant that it likely had been glowing. He simply hadn’t noticed.

  Balls.

  Could this be the Fate?

  He got to his feet, sweeping his gaze along the street. It was too dark for him to make out much of anything, almost supernaturally so. Could there be any sorcery presence here? He held on to the El’aras dagger, though it didn’t glow nearly as much as what he feared it might. As he swept the dagger around, he searched for movement within those shadows. He couldn’t find anything.

  Gavin slipped down a nearby alley, scrambled up the wall, and crouched on one of the nearby rooftops. He lowered himself so that he blended in with the darkness as he surveyed the street.

  It didn’t take long before he saw movement. A single figure strode down the street, darkness swirling around them.

  A sorcerer. It had to be the Fate that had attacked Gavin the night before.

  Gavin watched for a few moments before jumping to the next building, and then to the next. It didn’t seem as if the Fate had seen him.

  Yet.

  He jumped to the next rooftop, still watching the sorcerer as they strode along the street. They seemed unmindful of his presence. Still, whatever magic they used to make the darkness swirl around them was impressive.

  Gavin smiled. He would move quickly, to catch the sorcerer and question them. He needed to know everything about why they were in the city.

  He jumped down from the rooftop and landed on the street, then darted forward. He held on to the El’aras dagger before changing his mind and sheathing it. He grabbed the sword instead. The dagger might be easier for him to maneuver in tight quarters, but the sword would be more beneficial against a sorcerer. They knew magic, but they didn’t know traditional weaponry.

  Especially as it glowed under the magic that the sorcerer used.

  He reached the spot where he had first seen the shadowed figure. Gavin started to slow, sweeping his gaze around the street. It was empty. Stone storefronts pressed inward, and the occasional breeze pulled at a few signs. A small tree interrupted the flow of buildings here, a spindly bells tree that Gavin knew to avoid, much like the buildings seemed to avoid it.

  Where had he gone?

  He checked his pocket, making sure that he had another bundle of enchanted ropes. Hopefully, these would work better than the last, and he could wind them around in a better pattern.

  He reached another intersection and paused, looking in either direction, but he didn’t see anything. Night was dark around him. Darker than it should have been.

  Somewhere distant, someone cried out.

  Could that be another constable?

  Why was the Fate attacking them?

  So much for the Fate leaving after getting what he wanted from the Captain.

  Gavin was on the periphery of the city, which abutted the forest. Most of these cottages were smaller, more run-down, a few in need of roof repairs, and obviously owned by those without nearly as much wealth. It was a wonder that the constables even patrolled it.

  Another shout. This one was closer.

  He raced forward. The dark fog swirling around him looked something like smoke, though it was denser than any smoke he’d seen before. He held out the sword, sweeping it in front of him as he ran, the glowing light carving through the darkness and guiding him forward.

  He found another constable, then another, and then another.

  Gavin looked up.

  Three constables down in one part of the city?

  Where was the sorcerer?

  He raced forward after checking each of the constables, making sure that they were all still alive, and stopped at the edge of the forest.

  There was no sign of anything or anyone.

  One of the constables behind him cried out, and Gavin turned back. He wanted to chase the sorcerer into the forest, but at the same time, he also felt as if he needed to help the injured.

  Even if it meant helping one of the constables.

  “I’m going to find you,” he whispered to the Fate.

  Wind suddenly gusted around him, and it seemed as if the forest whispered back.

  He had to find where the Fate was hiding—before anything else happened.

  Gavin crept forward, following the flow of traffic on the street. The crowd seemed smaller, with people hurrying along on their tasks without looking around themselves the way they normally would. Could the people detect the presence of the sorcerer? He’d not noticed that with sorcerers in the city before, but then Gavin hadn’t paid attention to it, either.

  None of the constables had been permanently injured, though he had waited by them until other constables on patrol had arrived. He gave them space as they found their fallen colleagues, careful not to linger. He didn’t want to be blamed for what happened but wanted to ensure that somebody arrived to bring them out of the streets. It wouldn’t do for another sorcerer or somebody else to suddenly appear and attack them.

  He still didn’t have an answer as to what had happened or why the sorcerer had attacked constables. Gavin had searched for evidence of additional attacks but found nothing. No other constables were injured. There was no other sign of the strange sorcerer, and no other glow from his sword or dagger to indicate magic used around him.

  It was now early morning, and his few hours of sleep had restored him enough that he at least thought he wouldn’t have to worry about getting overpowered by somebody. If he were to come across the Fate, at least he had enough strength—and core reserves—that he might be able to call upon the power so he could break free. Not that he wanted to have to do that, plus he didn’t think a sorcerer would attack openly in the middle of daytime either.

  Regardless, he kept the hood of his cloak over his head, keeping himself concealed. He swept his gaze along the street, looking for any sign of movement, but he didn’t see anything.

  The only thing he was aware of was the sense of activity in the city. It was not typical for this time of morning. Or maybe it was. Gavin didn’t come out in the mornings often.

  Gavin hadn’t realized the home he’d been heading toward the night before had been so close to the market, but as he followed the flow of traffic, he thought it convenient that it had been. At least Gavin had some additional concealment this way. He moved as quickly as he could, staying as covered as possible.

  The sounds of the city around him were almost overwhelming. It was part of why he enjoyed working at night, under cover of darkness and in relative silence. The only distraction in nighttime was from listening to Wrenlow in his ear, but even that wasn’t terrible.

  Gavin breathed in. The smell of the city was different in the daytime as well. At night, there was almost a sense of coolness to the air, which seemed to wipe away the stench of bodies and filth and every
thing that crowded around him now. But there was an energy here now, and he couldn’t help but find everything slightly entertaining, from the merchants pushing carts along the street to the street performers tumbling or dancing to the people shopping.

  He veered off down a side street, away from the market. Gavin reached the building the Fate had been heading to the night before, then paused across from it. The red awning was there, much more visible in the daytime. It was different than the other buildings.

  Why this place?

  Perhaps that was the better question.

  Gavin watched for a while but saw no one, and he hurried across the street. He tested the door, found it locked, and jammed a knife into it. He twisted the knife and popped the door open. It wasn’t nearly as effective as the kind of lockpick that Gaspar used—especially since the old thief could relock the door, something Gavin’s technique wouldn’t allow—but it did the job.

  Once inside, he closed the door and started to shuffle through cupboards in the kitchen. It was a small home and easy for him to sort through quickly. No other furniture and no decorations were found here. Dust clung to the air, filling his nostrils, and everything that he touched seemed to kick up even more dust. Empty. The main part of the house was empty as well.

  He headed to the back room, where he’d been forced to go out the window, and he paused at the window. At least he knew he could go through the alley if it came down to it, but he didn’t see anything otherwise.

  Only, there was something.

  A faint outline on the floor.

  He crouched down and began to work his knife into the seam of the crack that he saw. The blade wasn’t sharp enough. Reaching into his sheath, he pulled out the El’aras dagger and tried that, leveraging it into the crack. Gavin wiggled the dagger from side to side to see if he could lift the trapdoor—at least, he was increasingly certain that it was a trapdoor.

  The El’aras dagger managed to get deeper into it, and he pried, mindful that he might blunt the dagger. El’aras blades were incredibly sharp. Gavin worked his way around the trapdoor, carving through the cracks. The dagger wasn’t strong enough.

  The sword.

  Gavin unsheathed it, and the sword fit into the crack. He slid the blade around the edges, and he leveraged it. The trapdoor started to open.

  His heart hammered. This was a sorcerer’s lair.

  This was where the Fate had come.

  Gavin knew of other similar lairs. It seemed dangerous he would come across another one. He continued to work the sword into the trapdoor and felt the door start to pull up. When he could get his fingers underneath it, he pried and lifted the door.

  He held the sword down into the hole. There was no glow from below.

  At least there was no sign of the Fate.

  Gavin moved carefully down the ladder, holding the sword in one hand, prepared for a waiting Fate. He paused at the bottom of the ladder. The darkness stretched in front of him. Gavin moved forward but didn’t see or hear anything. The shadows started to swallow him. The farther he went, the more the light from behind him began to fade, ultimately plunging him into complete darkness.

  The smart play would be getting help.

  He’d seen what would happen taking on one of the Fates.

  But if he surprised the Fate before anyone else was hurt…

  He slid his feet along the stone, holding the sword out, but there was no movement. Gavin paused when he felt something press in on him, squeezing and pushing him back. It was a strange sensation, a magical sensation. He had no idea what it was, only that he could feel something out there and around him. It left his skin tingling, the hairs on the back of his neck on edge, and an uncomfortable tension inside of him.

  Then he found a door.

  Or rather, the door found him.

  He crashed into it and bounced off. Gavin held his nose, stifling a cry.

  He reached out and felt the door. Its handle was curved, forming almost a complete circle but with some waviness to it. Holding on to it left him with a tingling through his hand. Gavin squeezed the handle briefly before releasing it. He tried again and twisted it, but the door was locked.

  It reminded him of how he had to try to jam the dagger and the sword into the trapdoor. Could he do something similar now? He started to run the blade of the El’aras dagger around the perimeter of the door but didn’t find anything.

  Maybe there was a way for him to force it open.

  Not necessarily with magic… or perhaps with magic.

  Gavin called upon the core reserve of power within him. That might be all that he needed to do. As he focused on that sense of energy, he shoved his shoulder into the door.

  The door resisted him.

  Gavin tried again, ramming his shoulder into the door over and over. Each time he did, some resistance around him faded. He continued to slam his shoulder into it. The door creaked, then groaned, and then it finally crashed open.

  It was dark.

  No Fate here.

  He took in a slow breath, noticing that the air had something of a pungent aroma. Gavin swept the sword out in front of him, probing as he took a step, then another. There was no glow to suggest any hint of magic. He needed to figure out some way to illuminate the room.

  He stepped in and moved slowly, probing forward. Finally, he came across a table. Gavin ran his hand along the surface of the table carefully. His hand bumped something. A lantern.

  He grabbed it, twisted the handle. The lantern started to glow with a pale white light, though he hadn’t lit any oil or anything inside of it. Some sort of magical lantern.

  Gavin held it out.

  The light revealed a curved room. Walls sloped overhead, stretching high above him. Gavin couldn’t see far into the darkness, but the light of the lantern gave him barely enough of a way to perceive the peak of the ceiling.

  The air had a strange odor to it. Each time he took a breath, he couldn’t shake the feeling that the odor was lingering in his nostrils, as if trying to work its way deeper into his mouth.

  He swung the lantern from side to side, quickly assessing whether there was anything else there. Whereas Gaspar was quick about determining if there were any items of value in a room, Gavin was much more skilled at searching for threats. No sign of the Fate—or why he would have been heading here the night before.

  Gavin paused in the middle of the room, where the odor seemed more pungent. He couldn’t find the source, so he stepped deeper in. It was much larger than he would’ve expected, certainly larger than the lair in Cyran’s home. He stepped toward the back room, then he saw it.

  He knew immediately what it was.

  A body, but so far decomposed it wasn’t even identifiable as a body. Velvet robes hung around it. As Gavin came close, the smell still struck him, and he had the sense that the smell had been contained for ages. It was almost as if it had been bound here so that it wouldn’t assault anyone.

  This had to be a sorcerer—the one who owned the home.

  Could this be the reason the Fate had come?

  Gavin needed to check the sorcerer’s body. He reached his hand into the cloak and felt inside the pockets, but he didn’t find anything. He nudged the sorcerer’s body, and the bones collapsed, dust spewing up. Gavin brought his shirt up over his mouth.

  He nudged the body with his foot, pushing it off to the side. It covered nothing but more stone.

  Gavin stepped forward, heading deeper into the room, sweeping the lantern around. He turned the brightness up, and the magical lantern glowed more intensely, pushing back the darkness.

  He glanced down at his El’aras dagger. Surprisingly, it glowed as well.

  Magic was here.

  Gavin dimmed the lantern again, glancing down at the dagger.

  The glow persisted.

  So much for surprising the Fate.

  Gavin stepped out and closed the door. He still didn’t see anything.

  In the light of the lantern, strange symbols on the su
rface of the door caught his attention. Gavin traced his hand across them. He held the dagger up to the door, and he frowned for a moment. The writing on the dagger was similar to the writing on the door.

  El’aras? Why would the El’aras have helped create these doors?

  Something sounded nearby.

  He had to keep moving.

  Stop the Fate.

  Gavin hurried toward the trap door, and the sound came again. The brightness of the dagger intensified.

  Gavin reached the ladder leading out of this crawlspace. He started up slowly, and the sound came once more. This time from overhead. As he neared the top of the ladder, he prepared himself to fight the Fate.

  The trapdoor slammed shut above him.

  Gavin shoved his shoulder up against the trapdoor but couldn’t move it. He tried again and again, but each time he met resistance. The ladder was cool to the touch; an old wood slick and worn down over time. If there was somebody out there, he liked his chances better fighting rather than hiding.

  He pushed on the trapdoor again. He focused on his core reserves, concentrating, and then he shoved. With a surge, he felt the trapdoor starting to move.

  Then the ladder cracked.

  Gavin dropped down a step. He could no longer throw his shoulder into the trapdoor the way he had before.

  Whatever he had detected was up there still—either that or the sorcerer who’d caused his El’aras dagger to glow was using some sort of magic on the trapdoor to make it so Gavin couldn’t escape.

  Gavin shoved again.

  The step beneath him cracked again.

  Gavin dropped again.

  The Fate had to have sealed him in.

  He was stuck.

  At the bottom of the ladder, he looked up at the trapdoor overhead. There were no markings on it, much like there were no markings on it from above. It was simply a door.

  He tapped on the enchantment. “Wrenlow, are you there?”

  There was silence.

  Gavin looked up at the trapdoor again. The glow of the dagger persisted, giving him enough light to see more clearly, although the magical lantern light allowed him to be able to peer above him too.