The Chain Breaker: Books 1-3

by Holmberg, D. K.

  “Right. And there aren’t any sorcerers in Yoran either, now are there?”

  Cyran’s brow furrowed a moment. “The city outlawed them. They figured it was safer that way.”

  “That doesn’t necessarily keep them away.” Gavin shrugged as he studied the dagger. All El’aras blades were made of their metal. It wasn’t found anywhere else, and it was harder than steel, the blade able to stay sharp far longer than any other metal. It was what made them so valuable and so rare. The only way to acquire an El’aras blade was to take it off one of the El’aras, and very few people survived the attempt.

  “I wasn’t expecting to see any El’aras here either. And it’s more than us being too far from their lands.”

  Gavin flipped the dagger over. It was incredibly well balanced, though he wouldn’t have expected anything different. The El’aras smiths were the most skilled artisans in the world. They certainly should be, considering how many years they had to perfect their art, much more than human smiths had.

  There were a few letters engraved along this blade. Gavin didn’t recognize the writing, though he’d never learned to read El’aras. There had been no point in it because the nature of his work had never brought him to the El’aras lands. For all Tristan’s skill, he’d never taught Gavin how to read the El’aras language.

  “What do you think it says?” he mused.

  “I don’t know. I only recognize a few of the letters.”

  “You recognize it?” Gavin looked up, unable to hide the surprise. He wouldn’t have expected Cyran to have learned it.

  The other man shrugged. “He wanted me to know how to read some of their language. I think if I would’ve stayed with him, he would’ve wanted me fluent. He said it was valuable; a benefit to me as I collected various books and other items.”

  Gavin rested the dagger back on the table, turning it toward Cyran. “If you can read it, tell me what it says.”

  “That’s just it. I can’t read anything about it, but I recognize the words for sun, springs, and stream. Nothing more than that.”

  Gavin turned it from side to side. “Sun. Springs. Stream. Not the dangerous language I would expect from one of the El’aras.”

  “You do realize there are different groups of the El’aras.”

  “Actually, I didn’t.”

  “Were you not paying attention when he was teaching us?”

  “You know, my lessons were quite a bit different than yours. Most of mine involved trying to stay alive.”

  “So were mine,” Cyran said, his voice going distant.

  Gavin’s lessons had involved learning fighting styles to become a warrior, skills that he’d turned into his current line of work. Cyran had learned something entirely different, studying poisons, plants, and other things that were dangerous and deadly. He’d always had what Gavin thought to be a much gentler training.

  “What do you mean?”

  “How do you think he taught me about poisons? Do you think he did anything different to me than he did to you?”

  Gavin hadn’t given it much thought. They’d been friends when they were training with Tristan, which was easy since they rarely had to fight one another. There were other students that he sparred with who ended up becoming challengers, and it was difficult to be friends with men he was expected to fight, often to the point of injury. That wasn’t the case with Cyran. In that time, friendships were rare for both of them. That was probably why they both valued it as much as they did.

  “I didn’t think about it,” Gavin said.

  “No one really thought about it. Everybody thought he was too easy on me. I suppose, in your eyes, the type of suffering you experienced was a much more acute, more obvious sort of suffering, but it doesn’t mean the kind I encountered wasn’t nearly as bad.” He looked down at his hands. “He would have me take poisons to learn the agony I would need to know, to master those effects so I could use them when it came down to choosing which poison I needed.”

  “I’m sorry,” Gavin said.

  Cyran grunted and glanced at something near him on the table before looking back up. “You don’t need to apologize. None of this is your fault. I blame him.” Cyran watched him for a moment. “You took the attention away from us, but we never really appreciated it. Not the way we should’ve.”

  Gavin shook his head. “I wasn’t trying to take the attention away from anyone.” It was strange thinking about Tristan this much again. It had been years since he’d spent any time thinking about him. At least, until he’d received word from Cyran that he was in Yoran. At that point, Gavin had felt as if he had no choice but to see his friend, especially as his and Wrenlow’s jobs had dried up. Yoran was a different city for them, and as soon as they had arrived, they’d connected with Hamish and the mysterious employer. The jobs had all been perfect for Gavin. “All I wanted was to survive.”

  Cyran chuckled. “You wanted to do more than just survive. We all did. We wanted to get out.”

  “And I wanted him to tell me that I did a good job,” Gavin said softly.

  Cyran watched him another moment while he took a deep breath. “When he died, I decided I’d had enough. I didn’t want to kill. I think I never really did, but he didn’t give me much choice in the matter when he was still alive. When he was gone…”

  Gavin nodded. After Tristan had died, they’d all gone their own ways. Gavin had embraced his training and used it, though perhaps not in the same way Tristan would have envisioned. His mentor had wanted to use him for power. Gavin had wanted to make money, but he also wanted to find out what had happened to his family. This was something Tristan had always said he’d share, but the bastard had died before he’d been able to do so.

  “I’m glad you’re in Yoran.” Cyran smiled slightly, though it didn’t really reach his eyes. The darkness of the room seemed to linger there. “It really has been too long since we’ve had a chance to spend time together.”

  “I’ve been meaning to stop by…” Gavin had, but he’d been reluctant as well. Going to Cyran meant that he would potentially open wounds that had started to heal. It brought back memories of Tristan that he’d suppressed.

  “I know you have.” Cyran smiled again, this time the corners of his eyes softening. “I was thinking maybe we’d be able to work together and talk without needing to kill someone.”

  Gavin grinned. “Where’s the fun in that?”

  “I don’t see fun in killing.”

  Gavin twisted in place. The pain in his arm was already starting to fade, and the pain in his back had also retreated. In time, he’d recover. He didn’t need Cyran and his healing to know that he’d fully recover. He’d always healed quickly, which was one of the reasons Tristan had prized him. Favored him, in some ways. Because of that, Gavin had advanced quickly and developed his place with the old assassin. He had learned but had always been tested. Always challenged. “Thank you,” he said.

  “That’s it?”

  Gavin started to stand. “I need to get back. There was a job that went sideways.”

  “I gathered. I guess I didn’t realize you’d get involved with the El’aras, but…”

  “But what?”

  “But if they’re here, then you really should stay out of it. Whatever they’re doing is dangerous. Not only for you but for the city. They shouldn’t be here. If they’re willing to risk… whatever it is that they’re willing to risk… you don’t want any part of it.”

  Gavin flashed a smile. “What makes you think I’m not the one they should fear?”

  Cyran grunted, scratching at his chin. One hand was stained with ink or soot. “I saw how injured you were. I know just how badly you were hurt. You might be able to shake it off, and with everything he taught you, you might be able to withstand more than most people. Even you’ll eventually reach a point where you can’t overpower things. Even you have your limits.”

  “Let’s hope those limits aren’t anytime soon,” Gavin said with a laugh as he walked to the door.
/>
  He knew he should listen to Cyran. Not only was he a skilled healer and a friend, but he had a quick mind. That was an aspect Tristan had also valued. He’d used that mind, that knowledge, and had twisted it, perverting it for his own purposes.

  “I’ll stay safe. If you hear anything about what they’re after, send word to me at the Roasted Dragon.”

  “I know where you are,” Cyran said.

  Gavin stiffened.

  Cyran knew how to find me?

  It wasn’t that he thought he’d managed to hide himself all that well. His employer now knew where his base of operations was, so he shouldn’t be surprised that someone who’d trained with Tristan did too. “If you know where I am, then why haven’t you come to visit?”

  “What makes you think I haven’t?”

  Gavin paused at the door, looking at his old friend. There was so much history between them, so much that they’d experienced together, that he wanted to stay and visit. At the same time, it was difficult for him to linger when there was so much more he needed to do.

  “If you need anything, just send word,” he said.

  “You know the same goes for you,” Cyran replied.

  Gavin stepped out in the street, pulling the door closed. The sun was setting, which meant he’d slept through the rest of the night and most of the day. That might be why he’d recovered as much as he had, but it had been too long, especially since he needed to figure out what had gone wrong on the job.

  Pain occasionally flared, though he held onto his focus. As he walked, he thought about the training Tristan had given him, his mind going back to some of those earliest lessons. Seeing Cyran did that to him, but there were times like these that did too. Times when he needed to regain some of his strength, when he found himself thinking back to all those years ago where he could use that knowledge to focus his energy and strength.

  When he reached the end of the street, he glanced back. Several lights were on in Cyran’s home. For a moment, he thought they were shadow figures moving near the home, and he hesitated, tensing.

  If I’ve brought the El’aras to Cyran…

  Not that his friend couldn’t take care of himself. Even though he’d abandoned Tristan’s training, it wasn’t as if he was helpless. Cyran was trusting, which had always put him into a precarious situation with their training. It was why Gavin had felt he needed to protect Cyran from Tristan and why he’d tried to keep him from suffering the way that so many others suffered under Tristan’s attention.

  He watched for a moment longer but didn’t see any other movement along the street, certainly nothing to suggest the El’aras had reached the home. After a while, he headed back, winding through the streets and taking a circuitous route toward the Roasted Dragon. Though he didn’t know how late it was, it was certainly late enough that he thought it was time to return. Wrenlow would be concerned about him. Jessica as well.

  Thinking of her put a smile on his face, and he moved quickly. There was nothing like a glass of wine and a woman like her to take his mind off of a job that had gone wrong.

  Chapter Six

  Gavin rolled over and pulled his arm out from underneath Jessica. She mumbled something in her sleep before dozing again. He pulled the sheet up to keep her covered and sat on the edge of the bed. She’d been sleeping when he’d gotten back after wandering past the manor house again without finding answers.

  The lantern glowed softly in the corner. He always preferred to have a little bit of light, just enough to push back the shadows so he wouldn’t be surprised. It was a habit that had saved him before.

  Getting to his feet, he stood and stretched. The bit of rest had helped. He didn’t need much sleep—training had forced him to learn how to function on very little. Now that he was awake, his mind started racing, thinking through what had happened with the job.

  He needed answers. First, he needed to figure out where his target had gone, but now he needed to know more about her. Since he’d failed with his first attempt, it was time to do more detailed scout work. Though his employer might not have given him many details, that didn’t mean there weren’t details he could find. Or Wrenlow, who was much more likely to succeed.

  Gavin slipped on his clothes and slid the El’aras dagger into his belt while making sure his knives were there. He padded down the hallway to Wrenlow’s room and knocked softly.

  When Wrenlow opened the door, he did so with sleepy eyes. “Gavin? What time is it?”

  “Time to get working.”

  Gavin pushed into the room and paused. Wrenlow’s room was a disaster. He had stacks of notebooks spread all across the table. His clothes were strewn about, and a blanket was piled in one corner.

  “Gods, you really should take better care of your room.”

  Wrenlow rubbed his eyes and blinked. “You come to me now after you were gone all day? What makes you think I’m not taking care of it? I know where things are. You don’t have to worry about my organization.”

  “I’m sorry I got jumped and not you. Besides, I just want to make sure you can find everything here.”

  “What makes you think I can’t?”

  “Look at this place.”

  “I have looked at it. I am looking at. There’s nothing here to be concerned about.” Wrenlow groaned. “You don’t have to train me to be you.”

  Gavin stiffened for a moment. “I’m not trying to train you to be me. I don’t think you could be me.”

  “Thanks.”

  Gavin shook his head. “I don’t mean it like that. I just mean that you don’t need to be me. You’re enough the way you are.”

  Wrenlow looked at him and blinked, then rubbed his eyes again. Finally, he turned away. “I know where everything is that we need. You don’t have to worry about that with me.”

  Gavin opened his mouth to say something but bit it back.

  What was there to say? Nothing. Not really.

  They had traveled together long enough and knew each other well enough that Wrenlow understood he was the only person Gavin trusted.

  He smiled at the thought. He took a seat on the bed, shifting the blanket to clear some space for him to rest. Now that he was awake, he felt much better. There was still a twinge of pain in his back, but nothing like it had been. The other injuries had almost completely faded.

  “I need you to do a little bit of digging.”

  “I have been doing some digging. I want to see what we can find out about Hamish and track him back to your employer, and then—”

  “It’s not just Hamish.” Gavin pulled the dagger out, and he handed it over to Wrenlow. The other man had already been in bed by the time Gavin had returned to the Dragon, and when Jessica had found him and dragged him upstairs, all thoughts of mentioning the El’aras to Wrenlow had gone from his mind.

  “What is this?”

  “An El’aras dagger.”

  Wrenlow’s breath caught. “How did you find this?”

  “They found me.” Gavin told him about the attack in the alley the night before and how he’d barely survived. Wrenlow listened, gradually looking more alert the longer he shared. By the time he was done, Wrenlow was staring at him.

  “That’s what you were off doing. You should be dead.”

  Gavin nodded. “I should’ve been dead a long time ago.”

  “No. I mean, if you were cut, you would’ve been poisoned.” He grabbed Gavin’s arm and pulled his sleeve up, seeing the bandage. “Everything I’ve read tells me the El’aras use a special poison on their blades. Sorcerers are the only ones who can stop the El’aras.”

  Gavin had heard the stories the same as any. The El’aras had been pushed beyond the borders of the Relanar Forest through the effort of the Sorcerer’s Society. Were it not for them, all these lands and cities would have been overrun by the El’aras.

  “I’m sure they’re poisoned,” he said, realizing he should’ve considered it before. “Part of my training has been to help me deal with poisoning.” That was likely t
he reason that he’d struggled so much getting to Cyran’s home. At the time, he hadn’t given it much thought, but it made sense. That meant his friend would’ve known to treat him for the type of poisoning.

  Of course he would. Cyran had seen the El’aras blade.

  “The poison should’ve been fast acting. I don’t know how you would’ve been able to survive. Honestly, Gavin, how is it that you’re even still standing?”

  “Let’s just say that the poison isn’t as terrible as you believe.”

  Wrenlow shivered. “I can’t imagine any poison not being as terrible as what I believe.” He looked down at the dagger, running his finger along the hilt but making a point of not touching the blade. “There was a time long ago I saw a book that had some of the El’aras writing in it. I wish I would’ve taken it. Then again, I never would’ve expected that I’d be talking to someone who actually fought the El’aras. At least, faced them and survived.”

  “I almost didn’t survive. Don’t be too impressed. It’s luck, nothing else.”

  “How many did you face?”

  “Why does that matter?”

  “It matters because if it was one or two, then sure, I’d believe it was luck. If it was more than that…”

  “That’s all it was,” Gavin said, sighing. There were times when he wished he could tell Wrenlow the entire truth about him, but there were certain things the other man didn’t know and didn’t need to know. The truth would end up causing only trouble for both of them.

  Wrenlow continued tracing his fingers along the hilt, staring at it. “It’s an impressive blade.”

  “I need you to look into who might’ve hired the El’aras within the city. Do so carefully. From what I understand, there’s some sort of treaty that should prevent them from being here. The fact they’re here suggests that either they’re willing to violate the treaty or they have the express permission of someone powerful within the city to be here.”

  Wrenlow looked up. He handed the dagger back. “I don’t like this.”

  “You and me both.”