World in Chains- The Complete Series

by Ryan W. Mueller

  "Not much of a traveler then." The bartender turned away. "I'll get your drink ready."

  "Thanks," Berig mumbled, kicking his legs against the underside of the counter. The bartender disappeared into a back room behind the bar. Strange. Liam had never done that.

  Maybe the tavern didn't carry the strongest drink in its normal stock. Nothing to worry about. Not everything was a plot against Berig.

  The bartender returned with a smoking stone cup, which he placed in front of Berig. It gave off a strong odor, one Berig couldn't recognize.

  "So what is this?" he asked.

  "Wouldn't want to give away my secrets, now would I?"

  "I guess not." Berig lifted the cup to his lips and sipped the smoking liquid. Strong, but not much stronger than Berig had drunk before. However, he also tasted something bitter he didn't recognize. After a few small sips, he downed the rest of the drink. It burned against his throat.

  "I'll take another one of those," he said.

  "No, I'd wait to see how that one affects you first."

  "I feel fine. Let me have another one."

  "No. Just wait, okay?"

  Berig waited, swinging his legs beneath the counter. He glanced around the dark tavern, his vision a little blurry. Was the drink affecting him that quickly? The murmuring of voices became indistinct while his vision blurred further. He shook his head, thinking he was imagining things, and made himself dizzy.

  "How're you feeling?" the bartender asked.

  "You put something in that drink, didn't you?" Berig's words sounded slurred, but not the normal slurring of a drunk.

  "Yes, I did."

  "Why'd you do that?"

  "I was waiting for you," the man said. "Imperial Guards came to me a couple days back, saying to be on the lookout for you. Name's Berig, ain't it?"

  Berig nodded, stomach churning.

  "Don't know why they wanted you, but it's a good bounty."

  Darkness swam in Berig's vision. "Damn you."

  "Nothing personal."

  Berig slipped off the stool, hitting the ground hard.

  * * * * *

  When Darien received the report of Berig's imprisonment, he leaned back in his throne and relaxed. Now he had Berig in Crayden, where he needed to be.

  But would Berig survive the city's destruction? Would anything go as Darien had planned? Many paths showed Nadia, Markus, and Berig escaping the city. Just as many showed them dying in there. This was the part he hated. How could he orchestrate their lives when the future left so much to chance?

  He could tell his Imperial Guards not to attack them, but there was no guarantee they'd remember that in the heat of battle. Guarantees were a luxury Darien didn't have.

  That moment of relaxation had passed. Now he tapped his fingers on the golden arms of his throne and let out a soft chuckle. The people of the Empire thought he lived in excess.

  But they didn't know that Darien had made other metals mimic the appearance of gold. It was a means of appearing more powerful. Gold had always implied power, even back in the Old World. To Darien, it was meaningless, and he saw how his palace might look excessive to some.

  However, power instilled fear, and Darien agreed with one of the long-lost political philosophers of the Old World. It is better that a ruler be feared.

  He wanted to be loved by his people, and some did love him, but he also intended to change the world. He'd seen the rest of the world before his imprisonment, and his spies told him it hadn't improved. These people would only make the necessary changes because of fear.

  One day, there would be peace, but not today.

  Chapter 10: At the Gathering

  "Why must I go to this gathering?" Nadia asked her father as they rode to Crayden's western side in a carriage. "Avia says you might be looking to find me a suitor for me tonight."

  "Yes, Nadia, it is time we looked to the future."

  "All right, if I must marry a noble, I choose Lord Ander Franklin."

  "Let's not be hasty, Nadia. There are other men out there, men who might make better high lords. You should keep your options open."

  "Is that all you care about, Father—who makes the best high lord? Don't my feelings matter? I'm the person who must live with the man for the rest of my life."

  "In some situations, duty is more important than your feelings."

  She heard the unsaid implications of that statement. He was talking about her mother, about his betrayal. If he expected that tactic to change her mind, he was insane. Her better mood had faded now, for she knew her father would choose the most infuriating man possible.

  A man who would try to control her.

  They reached Lord Franklin's large stone manor, which sat close to the mountains on the city's western side. A few sculptures stood out front, along with well-tended gardens, but the building lacked the overdone ornamentation of many nobles' manors. After the driver helped Nadia out of the carriage, she and her father walked together toward the manor's front door, passing neat hedgerows that reminded Nadia of the gardens surrounding the castle.

  Lord Lewis Franklin stood in the open doorway. His hair was white, his face clean-shaven as was the fashion among nobles.

  "Good evening, my lord" He bowed and beckoned them inside. "I hope you find the night enjoyable."

  Her father strode past Lewis. "Yes, we expect to enjoy ourselves."

  "And good evening, Lady Nadia," Lewis said, and kissed her hand.

  "Good evening," she said, trying to remember the etiquette for formal occasions like this. She was of higher rank than all the nobles, but it didn't feel that way.

  Sticking close to her father, she stepped farther into the house, across floors of polished white stone and rich red carpets. Portraits and other paintings, some depicting beautiful landscapes, lined the walls. Chandeliers cast warm, welcoming light upon everyone.

  Crayden's nobles were milling about, conversing with one another and holding glasses of red wine. Nadia didn't recognize most of them, but she'd heard enough from Ander about the other nobles that she had no intention of getting to know them. Warrick supporters, all of them.

  Her father, after looking around awhile, turned to Lewis. "Has Lord Tylen arrived yet?"

  Tylen. Nadia had heard that name before. Ander didn't like him, if she recalled correctly.

  "Not yet, my lord," Lewis said, and her father's expression sank.

  A servant appeared near them, holding a platter with five glasses of wine. "My lord and lady, would you like some wine?"

  "Yes, of course," her father said, taking one glass for himself and another for her. He didn't thank the servant, but Nadia did.

  She sipped her wine, grimacing at the taste. Her father had told her she'd grow to like it in time, but she didn't see the point in drinking something that impaired her mental and physical abilities.

  "I have some people I want you to meet," her father said, smiling as if she should be delighted at the prospect.

  Nadia followed, greeting everyone politely, trying not to glare at the back of her father's head. She knew she'd forget all their names in a few minutes, but she tried her best to appear interested, longing all the while to break free from her father's stifling presence.

  Servants approached, bearing platters of small appetizers: things like aged cheese and smoked fish. They tasted good, but Nadia only ate for an excuse not to talk. She'd never liked socializing, especially not at such a large gathering. Her chest tightened.

  She tugged at her father's arm. "I need some fresh air. It's too warm in here."

  "All right. Just a few minutes, though."

  She walked across the sitting room, past other nobles deep in conversation, ignoring them. What did it matter if she seemed rude? At last, she reached the door to an empty deck of reddish wood, and stepped outside. Her trapped feeling dissipated as she leaned against a railing overlooking a steep drop.

  The door opened behind her, and she turned with anger. When she saw Ander, she relaxed. "Good
evening, Ander. I'm being terribly rude, aren't I?"

  "No, it's completely understandable. I can't stand being around most of those people. It's one of those things you learn to put up with after a while. I can't blame you for needing to escape the first time you've been to one of these things."

  "You followed me, didn't you?"

  "Maybe."

  Even in the moonlight, he looked handsome. Her feelings for him stirred again, try as she might to suppress them. She was supposed to avenge her mother, and how could she focus on that when she also wanted him?

  "You look troubled, Nadia. Is everything all right?"

  "Is there somewhere we can talk?" she asked. "Where people won't be able to find us?"

  "We can go to one of the rooms upstairs. You do only want to talk, right?"

  "Of course."

  He took her gently by the hand, a perfect gentleman, and led her up the stairs to a higher deck. They entered an upstairs hallway, then ducked through one of the wooden doors. Nadia settled into a soft red chair while Ander took a seat in another across from her.

  "What did you want to talk about?" he asked.

  "I'm not sure. So many things. I don't know where to start."

  "Start wherever you'd like."

  How could her father not like Ander? He treated her with respect, and she'd never heard a bad word about him. Her father had to know Ander was part of the Order.

  She took a deep breath. "All right, I've found more information on White Fire and Woodsville. Cyrus Middleton believes that White Fire is hidden there. You know he wouldn't write something like that if he wasn't sure it was true."

  "That's interesting. It might be worth looking into."

  "So, you believe me then?" she said, the tension in her shoulders easing.

  "Yes, I think I do. But why tell me before the others?"

  "You're the one who can use that staff. Only magic will be effective against some of the things in those ruins. I'll need you."

  She squirmed in the chair. If he didn't agree, she had no idea what she'd do. She couldn't go into those ruins alone, regardless of any foolish threats she'd made before.

  "I'll be there," he said at last. "It's crazy, but I'll do what I can to help. I talked a bit with Aric after the meeting last night, and he convinced me that maybe we do need to do something more active with the Order. After all, why fight if it's only to stay afloat?" He sighed. "But it'll have to wait."

  Nadia leaned forward. "Why?"

  "We're calling an emergency meeting of the Order tomorrow night. Our spy network has brought us some troubling news. They don't have anything specific, but there's intelligence that Imperial Guards are about to do something big, something involving Crayden."

  Her insides knotted with fear. "Is this intelligence reliable?"

  "Very reliable, unfortunately."

  "What can we do to stop them? If Warrick grants them some of his magic, we won't be able to stand against them. Not even with your magical staff."

  "I know," Ander said. "But we have to defend the people the best we can. Don't worry. I've been practicing with my staff." He took a small piece of paper from his pants pocket and handed it to her. It contained the time and location of the meeting. She read it, memorized it, then tore it into pieces, which she tossed into the room's crackling fire.

  "Anything else you wanted to talk about?" Ander asked.

  She didn't know how to explain her feelings. When she opened her mouth, no words came out, and her face burned.

  "Don't worry, Nadia. I know you like me."

  "You do?"

  "You always sneak glances at me when you think I'm not looking. You want chances to speak to me alone. You get nervous around me. It's quite obvious."

  "Well, I guess—yes, it's true, but don't you think it's odd? You're almost twice my age. What could we have in common?"

  "Not that odd," he said. "I've seen noble women as young as you marry men as old as my father. Isn't it better that we at least know we like each other? Many marriages are simply marriages of convenience, or power. There's no love there."

  She looked down. "That's a fact I know all too well. Even if we wanted to get married, it wouldn't happen. My father wants someone else to marry me."

  "That doesn't surprise me. He must know I'm involved with the Order. The last thing he wants is a man to encourage you in your ambitions. It might seem cruel to you, but I'm sure he believes he's protecting you. You're all he has left."

  "I know," she said, fighting against tears. She couldn't let Ander see her crying. "I know he still loves me in his own way. He wants what's best for me, but he doesn't know what that really is. You're one of the few who know what I really want in life."

  He stood up, walked over to her chair, and put his hands on her shoulders. "I do know. And I also know that's why we can never truly be together. I can't say I know exactly how I feel, but I think I might love you, Nadia. But it can't happen. I know that."

  "You're right." Her tears fell now. "I can't afford to be attached to anyone, not if I truly intend to kill Warrick. Attachments get in the way."

  He moved around to the front of the chair. "I know. Maybe there will come a day when that's no longer the case. Until then, I wish you luck."

  Before she could think better of it, she wrapped her arms around him and brought her mouth to his. Their lips locked. He returned the kiss reluctantly at first, but then he infused it with passion. They remained together a few seconds before breaking apart.

  He smiled. "That was . . . unexpected."

  "Was I too forward?"

  "Maybe, but that doesn't mean it was wrong."

  She glanced around, listening for footsteps and voices. "We should probably get back to the party."

  "Good idea."

  They returned to the gathering, giving no indication that anything had happened. As soon as Nadia stepped through the door, she saw her father waiting for her.

  "Ah, there you are," he said. "It's time for you to meet Lord Tylen Watson. He's the man I've chosen to be the future high lord of Crayden."

  She shared a quick glance with Ander, then turned away. She couldn't afford to dwell on what she wanted. Time to play her part, make it seem like she was interested in Tylen. She remembered now that she'd intended to ask Ander about him.

  Her father led her back to the sitting room, then walked over to the most stunning man she'd ever seen. He had deep brown hair and eyes, a face that could have been sculpted, and a lean but muscular frame. His stance exuded confidence, and he wore robes of a deep red, studded with gold buttons.

  "This is Lord Tylen Watson." Her father wrapped an arm around the man's shoulders. "Doesn't he look the very image of a high lord?"

  "Yes, Father, he does," she said, impressed despite herself.

  "Pleased to meet you, my lady," Tylen said with a bow.

  She returned the bow, not sure that was proper etiquette. "I am pleased to meet you as well."

  She was anything but pleased, but she had to behave like a proper lady.

  He smiled, showing his white teeth. "You are most courteous, my lady."

  Her intuition gave her a sudden warning. His looks were too tailored, his responses too measured and formal.

  "Would you care to join me for dinner, my lady?" he asked with another bow.

  "Of course," she lied, trying to keep her composure.

  She and her father accompanied Tylen, taking seats at the large oak table in Lord Lewis's dining chamber. There were probably more than a forty nobles in all, most of whom were busy talking, paying little attention to her. Good.

  Lewis and Ander took seats near them. Servants arrived with platters of succulent food, the aroma making Nadia's mouth water. She had to make a concerted effort not to shovel the food into her mouth like the guards in their barracks. That would cause outrage at a gathering like this, and it was something she would never do in a normal situation.

  The more she looked at Tylen, the more uneasy she felt about him. Ander d
id not glance at Tylen or engage in conversation with him throughout the dinner. A bad sign.

  Tylen said all the right things, every word fake and rehearsed. Who was he as a man?

  "I was sorry to hear about your parents' passing a few years back," her father said to Tylen.

  Tylen chewed slowly, then swallowed. "It was the plague. I was sad to see them go. That is not to say I agreed with everything they did, however. They associated with members of the Order, and such associations can be damaging to the reputation of a great noble house like ours. We must remember that we owe our fortune to Emperor Warrick."

  Around the table, most of the people nodded and murmured their agreement, including her father. Disgusting. Didn't these people realize they were selling their souls so they could live comfortably? Now she knew why Ander didn't like Tylen. Tylen was a Warrick supporter. Avia might say that that alone didn't make him a bad man, but anyone who willingly supported Warrick was damned right with him, at least in Nadia's mind.

  No amount of fake smiles and flattering words could change her opinion on Tylen. She did her best to keep her face neutral the rest of the night, but she stabbed her food with more vigor than usual.

  By the time they left the manor late that evening, she was in a foul mood. She trudged to the carriage, feeling as if she could choke the life out of her father.

  He climbed into the carriage after her. "I know what you're thinking."

  "How could you make me marry someone like him?"

  "It's best for you. You need to get over your mother's death. Like it or not, you have responsibilities as a future high lady. It's time you learned to support the emperor like a good noble."

  She glared at him. "So you chose a man to control me."

  "I love you, Nadia, and I don't want to see you die like your mother."

  "I'd rather die than marry Tylen."

  Chapter 11: To the Mountains

  Markus and Rik waited in their small room at the inn, sitting at the edge of a bed that groaned with every movement they made

  The hours passed. Night deepened. Markus paced as the hour of their departure approached. The clock tower a few blocks away would tell them when it was midnight. With thirty minutes to go, there was a frantic knock on their door. Markus opened it.