“What type of men?”
“The dangerous type.”
He reached the alley.
Gavin didn’t like his odds if there was a sorcerer, not as tired as he felt. The use of his core reserves had tapped enough of his strength that he wasn’t sure he had enough to try it again. If it came down to attempting to use it or dying, he would have no choice, but he didn’t like those possibilities.
Gavin looked up at the buildings. There was darkness overhead, but he might be able to scale the walls. He had done it before. He’d learned a specific fighting style, Pakol, that helped him stretch out his arms and legs away from him and scramble along that way. The ancient fighting style was all about fluidity and rapid movements, avoiding quick and sudden jolts. The fluidity allowed him to bound his way up the walls, but only if he worked quickly. It depended on where he climbed as well. Gavin wasn’t entirely sure that this place was quite as stable as he needed for the technique to be effective.
The blade continued to glow, exposing him. He sheathed the sword. There was no way for him to climb while holding on to the blade, but he couldn’t see anything without it. He might be able to feel something or detect anything nearby, but he would have to work quickly.
Gavin pushed off the side of the building and kicked his way up. Climbing that way allowed him the opportunity to scale the side of the building, and he reached for the rooftop.
Something whipped beneath him. Gavin lifted himself up, managing to get above whatever grabbed him right before something else pulled at him.
He rolled onto the roof and sprang to his feet, then started running. He unsheathed the El’aras dagger, wanting something to warn him of a magical attacker nearby. The dagger glowed, lighting his way. Though he knew he should be concerned by that glow, he was still thankful for the benefit it offered.
Gavin followed the slope of the roof. He tried to hurry as quickly as he could, but he stumbled. As he rolled down the rooftop, the thundering of footsteps caught his attention. He tried to brace himself, worried about crashing into the next building or even tumbling off the rooftop, but he skittered to a stop. Thankfully, he didn’t slide all the way off. If he had, though, at least he liked his odds. He knew how to twist while falling, and he could careen to the ground without crashing and breaking too much. Besides that, he healed relatively well.
He stood up and turned toward the sound of footsteps.
Somebody was chasing him.
He jumped from one rooftop to the next, clearing an alley. As he did, he paused, looking down at the El’aras dagger. It didn’t glow nearly as brightly as it had been before.
Gavin looked behind him. At least three pursuers.
So much for one person responsible for what had happened to the Captain.
There had only been the one, though.
He didn’t think these attackers had magic, given how the light of the dagger was fading. That didn’t mean they weren’t dangerous, though, only that they weren’t going to attack him from a distance. He jumped across another alley, racing up the sloped slate rooftop, and then jerked to a stop.
Something held on to him, wrapping around him and keeping him from moving. Gavin tried to lunge against it, to surge past that sense of power, but he couldn’t do it. There was too much magic used against him.
He attempted to reach for that core reserve of power deep within him, but there wasn’t much left. If he were to pull on it, he didn’t know if he could survive the attempt.
He had to try a different technique. He strained again to get free but couldn’t get through. Every attempt failed.
Gavin’s El’aras dagger started to glow even more brightly.
He needed strength.
“Gavin?”
In his concentration, he hadn’t been listening to Wrenlow. Even now, as he heard his friend’s voice, he didn’t know if he could speak loud enough for Wrenlow to hear him. With the type of magic used on him, it was possible it would restrict him from doing anything—and saying anything.
“Sorcerer,” he whispered.
“Where are you?”
“Rooftop.”
“Can you do anything?” Wrenlow asked.
“No.”
The movement behind him loomed even closer.
Gavin could already feel the magic constricting him. He didn’t have enough strength to break the magical bands. All he had was the El’aras dagger.
Is there any way to channel power into that?
“Where on the rooftop?” Wrenlow said.
Gavin took a deep breath, flicking his gaze around. “I don’t know. Several streets over from where I was first attacked.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
Gavin almost laughed, knowing there was nothing that Wrenlow could do to help him. He was alone. Any help Wrenlow might send wouldn’t get to him in time.
Power continued to squeeze him, and he fought against it, straining to see if there was any way that he could break free. He continued to struggle, feeling the sense of energy coalescing around him.
The sound of footsteps across the rooftop drew his attention, and Gavin turned his head to see where the footsteps were coming from. As he focused, he tried once more to draw upon the core reserves of energy within him. Gavin called on that, letting that sense of power bubble up within him.
There had to be something that he could do; some way to reach that energy.
The footsteps were coming closer, and the three attackers were moving across rooftop as well. The combination of the two would be more than what Gavin could withstand.
Irritation filled him—something he might be able to use, to help him summon energy. When it came to calling upon his core reserves, it was all about finding strength.
The band of power around him squeezed even more. Gavin reached deep within him. He held on to that sense of energy, and the power bulged. It was only a little bit, enough that he felt the energy starting to slide. He shifted his arm that was holding the dagger so that he could pull it up. He placed the dagger near his chest.
The blade faced outward, and Gavin held it tightly, squeezing it as the magic pressed against him. He twisted the end of the blade and pushed it slowly forward. Gradually, he could feel the blade cutting through the magic.
The sorcerer who approached him used even more power as he did, drawing upon enough magic to crush Gavin.
Now that Gavin held the El’aras dagger up, he had some control over the blade. He might be able to use that control and find the key to breaking the power wrapping around him.
More power squeezed him again. Gavin ignored it, focusing instead on the dagger. It was the only thing he could concentrate on, the only energy he had. He’d have to use what he could of the dagger to find the strength to break free.
Gavin twisted the blade. He tilted, just enough that he could cut into the spell. As he did, the spell squeezing around him started to shift. And relax.
He tried again. This time, he attempted a different technique.
“Gavin? They shouldn’t be long.”
“Who shouldn’t be long?” he said through gritted teeth.
“Help.”
He didn’t think he had time to wait for help. Wrenlow would likely have called Gaspar or maybe even Imogen. She might be able to help, but only if she got here in time. He’d seen her handle the Mistress of Vines, so he knew a sorcerer didn’t terrify her, but this felt different somehow.
Gavin twisted, forcing the blade forward. It carved slowly, the magic holding him starting to fade, but the footsteps sounded even closer to him. He shoved the El’aras dagger outward, drawing upon the last of his strength—at least, what he thought was the last of his strength.
The magic holding him slithered away. Gavin danced back and dropped low, narrowly avoiding the sorcerer’s next attempt at trying to wrap him in power. As he did, Gavin brought the El’aras dagger up overhead.
He rolled down the sloped roof, banging his knee on a metal chimney. He didn’t want to
stay here any longer than was necessary, and at least having these others near him gave him an opportunity. Gavin took that chance by rolling, and he slammed into something.
He didn’t see anything, only felt the resistance against him when he rammed into it. He tried to get back to his feet, but he struggled. Gavin slashed outward with the El’aras dagger. The blade carved through magic, not an attacker. The magic exploded around him, and he tumbled to the side, kicking.
He barely escaped, and he rolled again, this time spinning his legs and sliding down the rooftop. When he reached the edge of it, he dropped to the street below.
Gavin had no idea where he was, only that he had to move as quickly as he could. The sound of pursuit roared behind him as he ran. He ignored that, focusing on sprinting. Only, he couldn’t head straight toward the Dragon.
If the pursuers knew it was him out there and discovered where he was staying, the tavern would be attacked. Again. Gavin wasn’t going to be responsible for the Dragon getting attacked a second—or, really, a third—time.
What he had to do was take a roundabout way, but even that might not be the most effective. Wrenlow might have called for help for him, but there might be other help he could summon. If only he could reach the enchanters.
They owe me, don’t they?
Zella had sent the old lady to him. It was because of her that he’d gotten mixed up in whatever this was.
Gavin raced ahead and switched directions. Now, as he was running, he did so with a different purpose. He wasn’t heading toward the Dragon but was instead heading through the city, trying to meander as quickly as he could but moving generally toward the enchanters. They were here somewhere.
Gavin held out the El’aras dagger, using the blade to help guide him, worried that there was still a hint of a glow to it. Magic was still out there, which meant he wasn’t any safer. Fatigue washed over him, enough that he thought he might collapse, but he had to keep moving.
In the distance, the sounds of the city started to shift. Still, he could hear footsteps behind him. It was dark, late enough that he shouldn’t see anything, but he could make out everything around him with the glowing dagger. Even the streetlights in the city had been extinguished for the night.
Gavin rounded a corner, and then he saw the building he sought. As he glanced over his shoulder, the steady sound of movement came toward him. The dagger continued to glow, getting brighter.
This was a mistake.
Gavin raced up to the short door made of darkened oak. None of the buildings nearby had lights on. The only thing that glowed was his dagger. He pounded on the door, worried that this wouldn’t work.
“Open up,” he said, hammering his fist on the door.
The dagger flashed with sudden bright light. Bands of power swirled around him.
He should’ve been holding the dagger up to his chest just in case, but he had made a mistake. He’d been using it for light, not protection. Gavin shifted his hands, and he brought the dagger back up, though even that wasn’t enough. He couldn’t move as the bands of power squeezed him.
Then he felt something else. Another sense of pressure behind him.
He glanced back over his shoulder, his head still able to move. The door was open, and darkness loomed on the other side.
Where are the sorcerers? Where are the other attackers?
Something exploded near him. The power holding on to him faded. Gavin stumbled, falling backward. There was another explosion, and then a third. They came one after another, relentless bursts of power.
He staggered back, collapsing into the building.
He scrambled deeper into the room. The door thudded shut. Gavin rolled over, pulling out the dagger. The room was small and simple, reminding him of the windowed room that he had darted out of while trying to find what he’d been hired to acquire. No decorations adorned the walls, and there was no furniture inside. In this room, there wasn’t even a rug.
Just a figure looming in front of him.
Gavin looked up. “Thanks for the help, Zella.”
Chapter Seven
Gavin leaned at the window, looking out. He didn’t see any sign of his pursuers. That didn’t mean they weren’t out there. It just meant that he couldn’t see them. Maybe the enchanters had intimidated the pursuers enough to give him space. He just didn’t like the idea that he didn’t know what was going on.
He also didn’t like the idea that he was dealing with sorcery. Again.
It was times like these when he wished that he would have asked Olivia to create another enchantment. One that enhanced eyesight might not be a terrible idea. He refrained from using the enchantment he kept on him to augment his speed and strength. Becoming reliant upon that kind of enchantment could be dangerous if it meant that he’d end up depending upon it rather than his skill. He had trained far too long to lose that.
There was nothing but darkness out there, and as he glanced down at the dagger, he knew that heading out wasn’t quite safe just yet. The blade continued to glow with enough light that he knew he had to be cautious.
“Why have you brought this to us?” Zella asked.
“You’re the one who got me involved,” he started, pulling the note he still had in his pocket and holding it out to her, “so don’t get on my case. Besides, it was the only thing I could think of doing.”
“You could have handled it.”
Gavin glanced over his shoulder. There were two other enchanters with her. One of them was Mekal, who glared at him, though not with the same intensity that he once had. Mekal looked to be in his mid-teens, though Gavin knew that he was older. His beard had filled in a little bit since Gavin had last seen him, and he had wide-set eyes and a dark shock of hair. He was a few inches shorter than Gavin, though taller than his brother, Kegan.
The other person with her had a youthful face that was unfamiliar to him.
“This is me handling it,” Gavin said.
“By bringing danger to my people.”
“Well, if it’s any consolation, you started it.”
Zella cocked her head, looking as if she wanted to say something, but she bit it back. She watched him with her deep brown eyes, her hawkish stare seeming to sweep over him, and he couldn’t help but feel as if he wanted nothing more than to back away.
She had dark hair and a sharp chin, and though she looked young, she wasn’t. None of the enchanters were actually young. All of them seemed to have frozen in time, the moment the enchantment had swept over the city and torn their families away from them. When power had shifted.
Gavin turned his attention back out to the street, looking through the window. “The Captain is dead. I went to talk to him. Got attacked by one person and followed him. Now there are at least two sorcerers here.”
“We have detected three,” she said.
Gavin glanced back. “Three?”
She nodded. “Three, but we have been able to erect enough of a barricade around us that prevents them from getting too close.”
He frowned. “How long will something like that hold?”
“Long enough.”
“Long enough for what?”
“For us to leave,” she said.
Gavin smiled tightly. His time around Zella had proven just how strong she was, yet he doubted she wanted to tangle with any of the sorcerers. Despite her confident stance, he didn’t think there was anything the enchanters could do against sorcerers like that.
“One of them called himself the Fate. Does that make any sense to you?”
Wrenlow hadn’t known anything about the Fates, but Wrenlow wasn’t nearly as plugged in to the magical world as Zella. Perhaps she would know something that Wrenlow wouldn’t.
Her eyes widened.
“What is it?” Gavin asked.
“Are you sure that’s what they said?”
“My hearing isn’t bad,” he said.
“They said the Fates?”
Gavin nodded.
Zella disappeared
into a room at the back of the building, though he could still hear her shuffling around.
“Who is he?” Gavin asked Mekal, nodding to the newcomer before turning his attention back to the window.
“This is Jesol,” Mekal said.
“What sort of enchantment skill does he have?” Gavin asked.
He had learned that the enchanters each had their own areas of expertise. Mekal was skilled with animating figurines that he created. Gavin had barely survived when Mekal had used one of those figurines against him.
“Many skills,” Jesol said.
Gavin looked back and grinned at him. “Good.”
“What do you expect to see out there?” Mekal asked, coming closer.
Gavin shook his head. “Maybe nothing. Maybe something.”
“That really doesn’t help,” Mekal said.
“There were three attackers when I was on the roof, not counting the sorcerer. I figure that any one of them could be here. Of course, I can’t see a damn thing, so I can’t tell if they’re out there.”
Gavin continued peering out in the distance. Mekal joined him at the window and stood alongside him, peering over his shoulder.
“You don’t have to stand so close,” Gavin said.
“I thought I would help.”
“You’re not helping by standing there.” Gavin shifted his feet, moving over so that Mekal could look out with him.
He turned away from the window. There was no movement. There was nothing.
“I’m sure we could help you see better at night with an enchantment,” Mekal said.
“No enchantment,” Gavin said, tempting as it was.
“What do you have against them?”
“I don’t have anything against enchantments, per se. It’s just…” Gavin still preferred not to use enchantments if he could avoid it. There were only a few he trusted—like the one that allowed him to communicate with Wrenlow. If that failed, he didn’t feel like he would be as lost as he might be were he to come to rely upon an enchantment for sight or speed or strength.
“You don’t like us much,” Jesol said.
Gavin glanced over at him. “I don’t know you much. It’s not a matter of liking or not.”
The Fates of Yoran (The Chain Breaker Book 3) Page 7