“The Captain. The El’aras. The connection between the two of them is fairly straightforward.”
Gavin wasn’t entirely sure. Cyran had wanted the Shard, but what was there about the Captain?
Enchantments?
Even that wasn’t a target that Cyran had given him.
“There were others.” He thought about the merchant with the children that he’d smuggled. “I thought that maybe he was trying to disrupt the power in the city. But if this was all about magic, then I don’t really know how that fits.”
“At least you started to see that he was using us.”
Gavin started to smile.
He could tell just how hard it was for Gaspar to admit that they were a team. It was equally difficult for Gavin. They didn’t always work together—and they didn’t always work well together—but in his time within Yoran, they had become a team.
It was almost as hard for Gavin to admit that.
“He was using us, but I still don’t know why,” Gavin said.
“Get through this, stop the Fates, and we can figure out the rest.”
Gavin nodded. Gaspar was right.
“Let’s get moving,” he said.
He reached the door underneath the awning and looked around, prepared for smoke creatures or the Fate, but he didn’t see any glow from the sword. Stepping inside, he made it through the main part of the home and into the back room. He pulled open the trapdoor.
This door had been blocked to him before when he had tried to come out. Something had sealed off, likely magically, making it so that he couldn’t navigate through here. There was no sign of anything here now. Gavin had no idea why he should be able to pull it open so easily.
“This?” Davel asked him.
“I know it looks simple, but this is anything but.”
Gavin descended the broken ladder and headed along the hallway. He reached the door leading into the lair and debated how to open it. He thought about using either the El’aras dagger or the sword, but he didn’t know if that would reveal a different sort of truth about it. Instead, Gavin pushed on the door, holding on to that core energy within him, and it came open with a soft hiss. He tried not to think about how that hiss reminded him of what he heard when he placed the dagger against the door.
Once inside, he strode forward.
“You said you’ve been looking for the sorcerer’s lair. This is it.”
“It stinks,” Zella said.
Several of the other enchanters filed in, Mekal among them. They hurriedly made a circuit of it, and the constables followed them, creating their own pattern and looking along the side. Gavin couldn’t help but feel amused at how both parties investigated, as if one side would find something the other had missed.
He searched the room again, as well. Something was off.
The body.
“When I first came here, there were the bones of a sorcerer,” he said, motioning toward the back of the room. “And…” He headed toward the wall. The bones were gone. “I don’t know what that means,” he muttered.
“You don’t know what means?” Gaspar asked.
Gavin shot him an annoyed look. “There was a dead sorcerer here. If we presume that this is one of the Triad’s lairs, then it’s possible it was one of the Triad who died here.”
“That’s not necessarily the case,” Davel said.
“Why not?”
Davel crouched down to the ground and ran his hand through dust. That dust had to be the remains of the sorcerer who’d died, and Gavin resisted the urge to shudder.
“The Triad had plenty of sorcerers who worked underneath them. Each sorcerer in the Triad had others who served them. It was a pyramid of power, with the Triad sitting at the top of it. Far beneath each sorcerer were the enchanters,” Davel said, getting to his feet and wiping his hands on his pants. “When the rebellion came, it started at the bottom, working its way up.”
“So the enchanters attacked the lower-level sorcerers first.”
“Those were the easiest,” Davel said.
Zella nodded.
“And when they got to the Triad?” Gavin asked.
“When they got to the Triad, I think the Triad realized that either they were going to have to use their magic to continue to attack, or they were going to have to disappear. Two disappeared.”
“Two?”
“Well, there was one who decided to stay and fight. Howarth. A powerful sorcerer and one of the first to have settled within Yoran. Then there was Ilian, a man who was harder than any of the others. And Fenna.” He shook his head. “She was the worst of them all. No one was sad to see them gone.”
“They didn’t have silly names like the Mistress of Vines?” Gavin realized he should have asked about the Triad's names before now, and the fact that he hadn’t was probably to his disadvantage. “I would’ve expected them to create terrifying nicknames.”
“I think the Triad was enough.”
Gavin snorted. “You’re probably right. Though I don’t know. Howarth? That doesn’t sound altogether terrifying. Neither does Fenna.”
“It would have were you here then,” Gaspar said, and he swept his gaze around before settling on Gavin.
Only one had stayed.
Gavin looked to where he’d seen the bones.
Could that have been Howarth?
There had been the same smell that he’d noticed in the barracks.
And the smoke had been in Cyran’s lair.
Could the Fates have used their magic on the Triad?
“What makes you think this is the Triad?”
“There are three chambers like this,” Gavin said.
Gaspar started laughing. “This and your friend’s.”
“And one more.”
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
“I’m afraid he’s right,” Davel said. “Each sorcerer may have had their own chamber. It’s not at all surprising they would have retreated like this. I admit it’s a little bit more extensive than I would’ve expected, but the home above is quite nondescript and not at all what I would’ve expected with one of the Triad. When they were here, they were a bit… let’s say, flashier.”
Gavin stepped toward the door, and he pressed the sword against it. There came a steady rumble as a section of the wall rolled apart.
He pulled the sword away. “Why don’t we go down here.”
The others looked at the now-open corridor. Gavin stepped inside, and they followed. He hurried through it. Having been here before, knowing where he was going and what was around, he wasn’t nearly as concerned as he had been the first time. He reached the branch point and turned, heading toward the other sorcerer’s lair he knew. When he reached the door, he pressed the sword against it, and it came open as it had before. Gavin stepped inside and waited for the others.
“They’re connected,” Davel whispered.
“If you go through that door”—Gavin motioned toward the other doorway with the El’aras writing on it—“you will find that not only are they connected, but there’s a similar nondescript building above this one. It’s more of a warehouse and a home, but it is still protected.”
“You said there was a third,” Davel said.
“I can’t access the third.”
“Show us.”
Gavin backed down the hall and followed the other corridor. When he reached that door, he pressed the sword against it, but nothing changed. It was the same as when he had been here before, when he had attempted to push on the door to try to open it. There was nothing from it.
“I can’t open it, but I believe that the other lair I know is on the other side of this. It doesn’t open the same as the others, but I wonder if Cyran did something that prevented it from being able to open in that way.”
“Three sorcerers. Three lairs.” Davel stared at the door, tracing his fingers over it.
Zella stepped forward, and she pulled something from her pocket.
“What are you doing?” Gaspa
r asked.
“We need to see if this will work,” she said.
“If what will work?” Davel asked.
It was a slender blade, and it reminded Gavin of the El’aras dagger and the sword he carried. She pressed it against the door, but nothing happened.
She stepped back, frowning at it. “It was worth a shot.”
“What about the egg?” Davel asked. “If you’re right and it was a tool of the Triad, it would only make sense that they would have needed it to open their doors.”
Gavin had to wonder, and he reached into his pocket. Ever since the creation of the enchantments and the time he spent with Davel, he had kept the egg on him. He had been hesitant to store it anywhere, worried he would lose it. More than ever, if the Fates were after the egg, then he would have to find some way to protect it.
He held the egg toward the door. There came a soft hiss, which intensified as he pressed it against the door. Gavin twisted the egg, and then the hiss became something worse, a sound that filled his head and echoed within his mind. The door started to glow. It took on a faint white sheen, the color of Gavin’s sword and dagger when magic was used around him.
Could the door be somehow channeling magic?
What if he added his to this? It wouldn’t be any different than what he had done with the enchantment by calling upon his core reserves. Gavin took a deep breath, reached for that energy, then pushed it out through the egg.
There came an increasing surge, and the door exploded with light.
Gavin was thrown back. He cupped the egg against him, shielding it with his body to ensure it wasn’t damaged. He rolled over and got to his feet.
The door had been shattered.
He stepped forward.
Davel grabbed him. “Are you sure that’s safe?”
“I don’t think any of this is safe,” Gavin said.
He waited for a moment, and the others followed him. Stepping into the room, he looked around. The awful smell struck him first.
The smoke creatures had been here.
“This has to be the Triad,” Davel said.
“It does,” Zella said.
“You didn’t know about this?” Davel asked her.
She shook her head. “We’ve been looking, same as you, because we have long suspected that the Triad left items of power behind.”
Gavin looked around the room. Of all the spaces, this one was the most well-preserved. There was the lair he’d most recently found, empty other than the sorcerer’s bones. There was the other that had enchantments, but nothing that looked dangerous. And then there was this one, a place that had the sword Gavin now carried, among other items.
“What now?” Zella asked.
“I suppose nothing. I wasn’t really expecting there to be anything here, but that this actually is a lair of a Triad… The smoke creatures followed me here,” Gavin said. “I thought I saw movement when I was in this space, and by the time I got up to the upper level, I could still see movement, though I didn’t know what it was or what it meant. It wasn’t until I got outside the house that I started to see that smoke moving along the street. I ran into the forest, but it chased me in and back out, forcing me to run through the streets until I got to the barracks.”
“We can just give them the egg,” Gaspar said. “If it will protect the enchanters.”
Davel shook his head. “We don’t know that.”
“It seems to fit, though, doesn’t it? Everything we’ve found suggests that what Gavin is saying is correct, much as it pains me to admit that. And if he’s right, then we have to wonder if perhaps there is another connection we haven’t identified.”
“We will not give the Fate the egg,” Davel said. “In the meantime, we need to make as many enchantments as possible.”
“Now you want our help?” Zella asked.
“If we want to protect the city, we need to have it.”
Zella looked behind her toward the other enchanters before turning to Davel. She was dressed in a long cloak with dozens of symbols worked into the fabric—each one likely an enchantment, and each one likely some way of offering her layers of protection that she wouldn’t have otherwise. How many of the other enchanters had something similar? For that matter, Gavin wondered if he should have something like that. Maybe he would be better protected if he did.
“For now. A truce,” she said.
Gavin had to think that was beneficial, though he didn’t know if it would be in time. “We still need to understand these smoke creatures,” he said. “Someone who knew the power of the Fates.”
“If only the Keeper remained,” Zella said.
“The Keeper?”
“The Keeper of Records. When the sorcerers ruled the city, the Keeper of Records maintained an archive of sorts. If we had the Keeper, we might be able to find what we need.”
Davel sighed softly, glancing from Gavin to the enchanters before nodding. He twisted his shoulder slightly, and his mouth twisted in a sour line, as if trying to decide if he wanted to reveal some secret he had wanted to keep buried.
Davel clenched his jaw. “I might be able to help with that.”
“What?” Zella said.
“Come with me.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Heading into the barracks for a second time was strange. The constables sat around at their stations and looked up when Davel entered, jumping to their feet when the line of enchanters poured in.
The inside of the barracks was not nearly as ornate as Gavin would have expected, given the level of its importance within the city. It had a low ceiling and stone walls, and somewhere somebody burned incense to push back the stale odor that still managed to permeate everything. There was also a dampness, as if some moisture seeped in through the stone. There was no upper level, as all the barracks descended far below the ground or far enough. Gavin had only seen the main entrance and the stairs leading down, though he suspected there were other rooms on this level that he had not yet observed.
“What is this?” one of the constables asked, eying Zella and Mekal.
“Easy, Thomas,” Davel said.
“Easy? Look what you brought in here,” Thomas said. He was a slender man with dark hair and a sharp nose. Several bracelets adorned one wrist—all enchantments. His gaze lingered on the enchanters, and his jaw clenched, as if he wanted to leap at them.
“I know what I brought here,” Davel said. “If I’m not mistaken, I still lead the constables.”
“Are you sure about this?” Gavin asked.
“No,” Davel said, nodding toward the stairs to the back.
Gavin descended the stairs with the others, and he glanced over at Davel. “You’re certainly having trouble with your people these days.”
“They will see the value in my leadership soon enough.”
“With too much change like this, you run the risk of rebellion.”
“I always run the risk of rebellion,” Davel said.
They headed deeper than they had the first time. Whereas the magical room where Gavin had worked with Davel before seemed to be quite a way beneath the ground, Davel descended even farther now. As they went, Gavin felt a sense of the walls starting to squeeze around him. There was a pressure, a buildup of energy, and he tried to fight the sense of claustrophobia pressing around him.
He’d been in worse places. Tristan had seen to that. He’d forced Gavin to experience tight caves and had even buried him alive at one point, all to try to get him over a fear of confinement. It had worked, though he still didn’t care much for it.
Gavin swept his gaze along the hallway, settling on each space before realizing what it was. “This is your prison?”
It was no prison like anything he had ever seen. It had to have some magical connection, some way for them to confine those who had power and ensure they didn’t cause danger to the constables or anybody else within the city.
“Such as it is,” Davel said and continued descending into the depths of the barracks.
Finally, they stopped. He led them forward, and they reached a narrow tunnel with a row of cells. He motioned for them to follow.
Their numbers had dwindled. Several of the enchanters had remained out on the street, and only Zella and Mekal had come down into the prisons with them. Davel had brought two constables with him, and Gavin suspected that they were both heavily enchanted. Gaspar and Wrenlow were there too.
Gavin stopped at one of the cells. The bars were smooth and slick, and they seemed to have some energy to them. He gripped them tightly, feeling the metal, trying to identify something more from it. He couldn’t.
“What sort of prison is this?” he asked.
“One that will hold anything of magical power,” Davel said. “You should be thankful we have something like that.”
“Something like the prison that holds those who can use magic?” Zella asked. “Such as a prison that would confine my people?”
“It does nothing to your people.”
“That’s not true, and you know it.”
Davel stared at her, saying nothing.
“Anyway,” Gavin said. “Where is this Keeper?”
“Not far from here,” Davel said. “Come with me.”
They hurried along the hallway, and they stopped at a cell near the back. Gavin looked in each of them as they went, but he didn’t see anything inside, just the empty cells. He could imagine that, at one point, these all were occupied by powerful magical users. When they reached the back of the prison, Davel motioned for him to look inside the cell at the end.
A single person sat on a cot at the back of the cell. Long, lanky gray hair hung down into their face. A dirty brown robe—or had it once been white?—covered them but looked several sizes too large. They were curled up into a ball, and they ignored the fact that any of them were out there. Gavin couldn’t even tell if it was a man or woman.
“How long have they been here?” he asked.
“Ever since the war,” Davel said.
“You’ve kept them here this long?”
“They were with the sorcerers.”
Gavin couldn’t imagine being imprisoned for that long, what it must be like for this person to be held captive as long as they had been.
The Chain Breaker: Books 1-3 Page 76