World in Chains- The Complete Series

by Ryan W. Mueller

  He stepped onto the large porch, taking deep breaths, and rang a bell beside the door. When at last the door opened, a servant eyed him suspiciously. "Have you business with Lord William?"

  "Tell him his cousin Tylen is here."

  The servant's eyes widened. "Forgive me, Lord Tylen. I didn't recognize you." He gave Tylen a small bow. "I will inform him that you're here. Please come into the sitting room."

  Tylen followed the servant into a room furnished with plush red couches and chairs. Light-colored carpets ran along the reddish stone floors, and many fancy portraits adorned the walls. In all, Tylen had to appreciate William's taste, even if he didn't care for the man's politics.

  But maybe William and the Order had a point. After what Warrick had done to Crayden, could Tylen continue supporting the man? Tylen could still see that wall of flame when he closed his eyes, could still hear the high lord's screams as they tortured him to death. Tylen had been so close to achieving his dreams, and they'd all slipped away so quickly, so senselessly.

  He was a shell of a man now. Pathetic. Useless.

  The servant returned with William, who glared at Tylen.

  Tylen rose in greeting. "Good afternoon, William."

  "Good afternoon, Tylen," William said coldly. "Why are you here?"

  "You've heard about Crayden, haven't you?"

  "Yes, I have. I hadn't expected you to survive. Nor did I expect you to come crawling to me even if you had. Do you think Maria and I wish to take you in?"

  Tylen felt sick to his stomach. "You're family. That's what family does."

  "You ceased being family when you defended Warrick in my home. All you care about is power, and you'll attach yourself to whoever can give you that power, even if it's someone as evil as Warrick."

  Rage boiled within Tylen. How could William claim to be superior when he wouldn't even give Tylen a chance? Couldn't he see how desperate Tylen was?

  "I've changed my mind on Warrick," Tylen said. "After what happened, how can I support the man any longer? I'll be like you, profess support while really opposing him."

  "No, you won't, Tylen. You'll do whatever benefits you the most. We're done here."

  "What about Maria?" Tylen asked, desperate. If William didn't take him in, he'd have nowhere to go, with only two gold coins to his name.

  "She didn't even want to see you," William said.

  "Can't you give me a chance to prove I've changed?"

  "No, Tylen, you will never change. Now get out of my house. You're smart and resourceful. You'll figure out a way to get on your feet again."

  Tylen turned away, passing a small table. With a quick sweep of his hand, he knocked a vase to the stone floor. It shattered loudly, and William swore at him. Tylen didn't turn back to see William's face, though. He didn't need to.

  "You'll regret this, William."

  Hot with anger, he stomped out of the house and slammed the door in the servant's face. His steps carried him to the market district, where he watched people going about their business in bright spirits. How dare they be happy when he was so miserable?

  Two gold coins. He tossed them lightly, still fuming. Yes, that was more money than some people had, but not enough to give Tylen the comforts he needed. What had he ever done to deserve this?

  Someone slammed into him from behind, and the gold coins clattered to the cobblestone streets. Tylen hit the ground with a heavy thud that knocked the wind out of him. As he recovered, the person who'd hit him looked down at him.

  "Sorry for running into you," he said, then took off at a run. At first, Tylen was confused, but then he noticed that his gold coins had disappeared.

  Enraged, Tylen jumped to his feet and chased after the thief. The man darted down the street, weaving through the crowd, slipping into narrow alleys.

  Heart pounding, Tylen followed the thief onto another cobblestone street, where the man glanced back over his shoulder, collided with a group of shoppers, and fell. This was Tylen's chance. He unsheathed his sword and cornered the man.

  "Give me back my money, you damned thief!"

  "It's my money now. You'll have to take it from me."

  "That can be arranged."

  The thief scrambled to his feet, catching Tylen by surprise, and took off again. Tylen raced after him, pushing through crowds of curious onlookers. At last, he chased the thief into a dead-end alley. The man stopped, looking at Tylen with wide eyes.

  Tylen advanced, sword drawn. "This is your last chance."

  The thief tried to slip by Tylen, but Tylen was quick as well. He plunged his sword through the thief's back, and the man hit the ground hard, breathing anguished, gurgling breaths. The two gold coins fell from the thief's hand, and Tylen scooped them up. The man looked up at Tylen, his face pale, blood staining the ground near him.

  "You got what you deserved," Tylen said, feeling no sympathy. "I gave you a chance. You didn't take it."

  Tylen wiped his sword on the thief's clothes and was about to sheathe it when a voice came from behind him.

  "Now this doesn't look good."

  Tylen turned, and his heart sank. An Imperial Guard with a short, dark beard stood at the end of the alley, looking at Tylen with narrowed eyes.

  Tylen's legs were quaking. "He stole from me. He gave me no choice."

  "It is not your judgment to make. That judgment belongs either to us or the city guard. We can't have people exacting their own inconsistent justice."

  Tylen forced his voice to remain steady. "I'll keep that in mind. Thank you."

  "You know I can't let you off that easy. Like it or not, you've committed murder." The Imperial Guard smiled. "But maybe we can reach some kind of arrangement."

  Tylen glanced around, looking for an escape route, but the crowd had dispersed, keeping a safe distance. He didn't blame them. "What kind of arrangement?"

  "Give me those two gold coins, and I'll pretend this never happened."

  "I can't do that. This money is all I have left. There has to be another way."

  "Well, I could always kill you," said the Imperial Guard. "But I figured you might value your life more than a little money."

  "I won't have a life without this money."

  "Well, I'm sorry to hear that, but if that's the case, I'll just have to kill you."

  Tylen tightened his grip on the sword. "I'm a skilled swordsman. I wouldn't recommend it. Leave me alone, and I won't have to kill you. What does the loss of a thief matter?"

  "Emperor Warrick teaches us that all people are important, no matter how poor. He once had nothing to his name, and he rose to great heights. How do you know that you didn't just prevent someone from going on to a great destiny?" The Imperial Guard looked Tylen in the eyes. "And I doubt you'll prove a more skilled swordsman than me."

  Tylen got into his fighting stance. "We'll see about that."

  "Very well. It's your death." The Imperial Guard made the first move, a quick thrust toward Tylen's chest. Tylen deflected the thrust, then darted out of the way as the Imperial Guard tried another thrust, testing Tylen.

  Tylen dashed back onto the main street, drenched in sweat. He had to be insane to think he could do this.

  Their swords met in a quick series of clinks and clanks, and the fight began to wear on Tylen. He hadn't recovered from chasing the thief.

  A crowd had gathered around them, but Tylen paid it no attention, focusing on the battle, on surviving. The Imperial Guard was clearly a superior swordsman, now that he wasn't holding back.

  Tylen narrowly dodged a swish of his opponent's sword, then ducked behind a nearby barrel, trying to catch his breath. His heart pounded in his ears as his opponent approached.

  "Come on out," the man said. "That's no way to fight."

  Still out of breath, Tylen moved out from behind the barrel. The Imperial Guard leveled a quick swing at him, and Tylen rolled out of the way. Then he got to his feet, forcing all his will into his next attack.

  He swung wildly, and the Imperial Guard
ducked out of the way. Now Tylen was off-balance. Stumbling, he tried to get back in position, but his opponent's sword slammed against his, sending it flying. Tylen watched in horror as his sword clattered against the cobblestones, too far away to retrieve.

  The Imperial Guard stepped closer, his expression unreadable. The crowd had given both of them a wide berth.

  "Where'd you learn to fight like that?" the man asked.

  "Trained a lot in swordplay, back in Crayden."

  "Crayden?"

  "I left before it was destroyed," Tylen said, fear like a dagger in his chest. By all appearances, the attack on Crayden had been meant to kill everyone.

  Oddly, the Imperial Guard smiled. "Well, whoever trained you did a good job. Your fighting style is a bit too clean, too trained, but there's no doubt you have skill." He stroked his short beard. "There might be a third option for you."

  "What third option?" Tylen asked.

  "Well, someone like you might be a good addition to our ranks. You're skilled with a sword. You don't seem to have any problem with killing when necessary. To be completely honest, we need to boost our numbers a bit. What do you say?"

  "What's the alternative?" Tylen asked.

  "Same as before."

  Tylen took a few deep breaths. "Then I guess there's no choice. I'll join you."

  The man smiled as he held out a gauntleted hand. Tylen shook the hand, wondering with terror what he'd just pledged to do.

  "I'm Commander Enders by the way," the man said. "You can call me Sam, though."

  "Thank you for sparing my life, Sam. You didn't have to do that."

  The commander looked away. "Wouldn't want to see such talent go to waste." He returned Tylen's sword. "Let's get to the garrison."

  Tylen followed, numb with shock. After seeing the destruction of Crayden, the way Imperial Guards had treated the high lord, could he pledge his support to Warrick?

  It was about survival, about giving himself the best life possible. It always had been.

  * * * * *

  Darien sat upon his golden throne, looking down at Captain Enders. "You did well."

  "Thank you, Your Majesty."

  "It was a convincing performance," Darien said, "but now you must make sure you don't fail. Tylen's situation is precarious. I need him firmly on my side, so I need you to take him under your wings. You're one of the more decent men I command. He needs to see that we're not monsters. Otherwise, I fear he will never truly join me."

  "I understand, Your Majesty."

  "You are dismissed."

  Commander Enders turned the corner, leaving Darien alone with his thoughts. Thoughts that grew more troubled every day. No one else could understand how close Darien felt to breaking. He maintained a calm mask, but he felt at times as if he were crumbling.

  Tylen worried him at the moment. Darien had not always intended for Tylen to serve him. That was supposed to have been Markus. But both of them had chosen other paths, and Darien had been forced to adjust.

  Now he wasn't sure he could win Tylen to his side. The farther he looked into Tylen's future, the more dark strands he saw, the more divergent paths he read.

  At some point, Darien would have to accept that he couldn't control everything.

  Chapter 37: The Swamp's Dangers

  Berig lay on the ground while the others rushed to him. Aric reached him first, dropping his sword and kneeling beside him. Carefully, Aric removed the remainder of Berig's shirt, then examined the scratches.

  "Am I gonna live?" Berig asked, so weak he could barely move. He wanted to fight for life, but that sounded like too much of an effort. Maybe if he just closed his eyes . . .

  No. He'd fought to survive this long. He wouldn't give up now.

  "These scratches are very deep," Aric said, "and I fear they might get infected." He shot a glance at Talia. "Get the bandages. Quickly."

  She disappeared from view while Aric continued examining Berig's chest, shaking his head. Berig gritted his teeth against the stinging pain. A few moments later, Footsteps sounded against the muddy ground. Talia had returned with an armful of medical supplies, accompanied by Farah.

  "Get me the alcohol," Aric said.

  "You don't need to," Farah said.

  Everyone looked at her.

  "I can heal him," she said, as if that were completely normal. She knelt beside Berig and placed her hands on his injured chest.

  "What do you mean?" Aric asked. "Are you saying you can use magic?"

  She nodded, but kept her hands on Berig. Soon Berig's pain dulled. He looked up at Farah in wonder. He'd heard that some people had abilities like this, but he'd always thought those things myths. Warrick had magic, of course, but he was different.

  When she removed her hands, she said, "I've healed the worst of it. Now you can get to work, Aric. He'll still need the wound cleaned and stitched."

  Berig looked up at her. "Thanks."

  She nodded, then strode away silently, a greater mystery than ever. Who was she, and why had she accompanied them?

  Aric examined Berig with a frown. "She did a good job, but you've still got some scratches. If I don't treat them, they'll get infected." He uncorked the alcohol. "This is going to hurt like hell. You ready?"

  "Not really."

  The liquid hit Berig with burning fury. He screamed and writhed on the ground.

  "I'm sorry," Aric said, pouring more on his wounds. After the initial burn, the pain had faded, but Berig still clenched his teeth against it, feeling like he might pass out. Then Aric began stitching up the wound, and the pain became even worse.

  When Aric finished stitching, he wrapped bandages around Berig, who stood on unsteady legs, trying to get the world to stop spinning.

  There was a reason most people didn't go on adventures. Maybe Berig could turn back now and leave the Black Swamp. He could surely find a life in one of the cities. Thieving had been good to him before, and it couldn't be any more dangerous than this insane quest.

  But, no, he couldn't go back to that life. The fire in Crayden had convinced him that he needed to do something more, something that would make a difference.

  What that was, he had no idea.

  "How're you moving?" Aric asked.

  Berig tested out his limbs. It seemed he could move at a normal pace, but if he made any sudden movements, the cuts on his chest flared with pain.

  He shrugged, and winced. "Could be worse, I guess."

  They returned to the campsite. Their dinner had finished cooking, but Berig didn't feel hungry now. Still, he forced some down, knowing he'd need his strength. Everyone expressed relief at his narrow escape and puzzlement at Farah's abilities. Farah herself remained apart from the group. Once again, Captain Davis also seemed quiet.

  Berig sat down next to him. "You okay?"

  "I should've been quicker," the captain said. "You could've died."

  "But I didn't. No harm done."

  Captain Davis shook his head. "I wish I could agree with you, but I'm supposed to be a protector, and I did a damned poor job of protecting you."

  "It ain't your fault," Berig said, but the captain ignored him. With a heavy sigh, Berig gave up. At least he had some idea what was bothering the man. In truth, Berig understood those doubts all too well. He'd failed before, back in his thieving days, and people had been hurt.

  No use thinking about the past, though. Berig focused on his food instead.

  During their meal, Ander made a new rule. No one could go venturing off by themselves again. Berig wished they'd had that rule before.

  He slept poorly that night, his cuts stinging as he rolled over on the soft ground. When he woke the next morning, he felt stiff and sore.

  The swamp seemed unchanging as they walked. Muddy ground. Gnarled trees. Thick mist. Occasionally, they dodged pools of black water as growls sounded in the distance.

  That afternoon, the mist thinned, and Berig prayed they were almost through the swamp. Soon they arrived at an enormous black lake.
A broken path of islands crossed the lake.

  "Should we risk it?" Graig asked. "They're close enough together to cross."

  Ander examined the path. "No, we should go around."

  "You sure about that?" Captain Davis asked.

  "Berig won't be able to cross with his injuries," Danica said, "so we all might as well all take the long way."

  "Good point," Aric said, glancing at Berig. "Don't worry that you're slowing us down. The lake shouldn't be that large. It'll just be another twenty or thirty minutes, if that."

  Berig burned with guilt. He'd sworn he wouldn't slow down the group, and now he was doing just that. What good did he do anyone? He had no skills, no strengths, nothing people like Ander and Aric could use.

  Talia frowned with concern. "You okay, Berig?"

  "I'm fine, just thinking. Sorry I'm slowing you down."

  Graig patted him on the shoulder. "Don't worry about it. You couldn't have known that cat was going to attack you. You need to take it easy on yourself, Berig."

  That was easier for someone else to say. Berig's only achievement in life was surviving so long. What did they see in him that he didn't?

  "Yeah, I guess I just blame myself too much," he said. "I'll be fine." That was a lie, but he didn't have the energy to argue at the moment. He'd never been much for debating with others. It was easier to accept things as they were.

  Ander led the group to the right around the lake, keeping a safe distance from the black water. Berig, however, kept looking at that water as he traversed the uneven ground. He could have sworn he saw something moving within the lake.

  His stomach churned. "Could there be monsters lurking in the water?"

  "It's possible," Aric said. "All the more reason to keep our distance."

  Berig tried to quell his fears. Surely Ander and Aric would keep everything under control. They were natural leaders. Ander with his ability to take charge and keep the group going when emotions might get in the way. Aric with his calm and reasoned manner, but with a bit more sympathy beneath that exterior.