The Chain Breaker: Books 1-3

by Holmberg, D. K.

  He had to do that now.

  He could feel that there was energy inside. Faint, but definitely there. He grasped for it, reaching for the stores of energy he knew were within him. Then he pulled on it.

  He nodded to Gaspar. There was so little strength remaining within him. Not enough he could rely on it too long, but enough he might be able to survive.

  They stepped out of the building into an alley next to the Dragon. From here, Gavin could see the street in front of them. There was no movement—nothing to suggest there was anything dangerous coming—though he’d seen the concern in Anna’s eyes. He didn’t know her well, but he recognized fear. Fear from one of the El’aras was enough that he knew to be concerned by it too.

  Gaspar looked around. “What now—”

  Movement came behind them.

  Adrenaline rushed through Gavin as he pushed Gaspar out of the way and dove forward, thrusting the El’aras dagger into an oncoming attacker. He’d felt somebody, though he wasn’t entirely sure who they were. He spun, adding everything he could to overwhelm the attackers. He tried drawing upon strength, but there didn’t seem to be anything more for him.

  Gavin caught sight of a little movement and twisted around. Fatigue nearly overwhelmed him as he drove his fist outward. There was no real power left within him. Everything he was doing was by instinct and nothing more.

  He brought his fist around and crashed into something. Then he dropped his shoulder and stabbed with the dagger. It met resistance.

  Gavin staggered forward. Somewhere behind him, he heard a shout. It seemed to be calling his name, but he ignored it. He stumbled and found himself out in the open. Everything around him was a blur, as if there were a haze around him.

  He took a deep breath, trying to reach into that core strength again. He could feel energy buried within him, and he dove toward it. He called upon that power, and it bubbled up within him. Then he used it.

  It was the only thing he could think of doing. By holding onto that and taking every last bit of energy he had, he could overpower whatever came at him.

  Movement around him told him he was surrounded. Gavin darted toward one person and stabbed with the dagger. He couldn’t see anything other than an outline of a shape.

  Could these be El’aras? Why would the El’aras be attacking now?

  It didn’t make any sense, but a lot of what had been happening to him didn’t make much sense. He found another reserve of strength, and he blinked, clearing his vision.

  Dark cloaks and tattoos. He would swear on his life that these were Sumter attackers. It didn’t mean they weren’t skilled. Men from Sumter were always skilled sword fighters, but they weren’t nearly as deadly as the El’aras. Which meant he had time.

  He darted toward the first attacker and stumbled. While falling, he managed to twist and bring his dagger up. The fighting style was crude, and certainly nothing Tristan would be proud of, but maybe that didn’t matter. All that mattered was that he continued to fight.

  Gavin swung again, and this time, there was more movement near him. His eyes wouldn’t focus, making everything dark, and he stumbled forward once more. He could feel a presence nearby, and he swiped with the dagger. The next Sumter attacker fell. He spun again and took down another.

  How many were there? He thought about what he’d seen in the manor house. If there were that many attackers, it might be more than what he could handle in his current state.

  He had to embrace a different fighting style. Normally, Gavin mixed together all of the different techniques he’d been trained in, but in this case, perhaps that was a mistake. He didn’t have enough strength to shift between them, but there was one style that would be somewhat fluid and somewhat rough that he could use. Tristan had called it the Drunken Justan style, supposedly named after the man who’d taught it to him, though Gavin suspected it had another name.

  As one of the Sumter attackers came toward him, Gavin fell to the ground. He stumbled slightly while doing so, but this time the fall was intentional. The key to this fighting style was that every stumble had a purpose. When he twisted, he brought the dagger around and slashed across the man’s thigh. Then he spun back around, toppling over him.

  Gathering himself, he got to his feet. This fighting style fit him today. He staggered forward again, stumbling, and then crashed into the next attacker. He brought the dagger around, jamming it into their back.

  He took a deep breath, trying to find more of that source of energy within him. There had to be something there. It would be the last of his strength. He didn’t have much hope of being able to do much more, but if it bought Wrenlow and Gaspar time, it would be worth it.

  He threw himself toward the next man. As a sword came toward him, he twisted, his arms flopping. He brought a dagger into this man’s side, carving through him.

  Gavin crashed to the ground. He tried to get up, but someone was there, heading toward him.

  He blinked, and there were five—no, seven—Sumter attackers.

  Too many for him.

  Chapter Nineteen

  A light came toward him. For a moment, he wondered if it was Anna and her glowing hair, but this had a different shape. The glow was all he saw.

  It wasn’t Anna. It was Thomas.

  The El’aras sword master’s blade worked in a quick blaze, carving through the Sumter attackers. He then looked down at Gavin, his face little more than a blur. “Get up.”

  “I’m afraid that I’m spent.”

  “Get up.”

  There was something like the steel Gavin had often heard in Tristan’s voice in Thomas’s now. He scrambled, trying to get himself moving, but his body didn’t react the way it should’ve. He looked up, feeling stupid.

  “I can’t.”

  Thomas grabbed him, jerking him to his feet. Gavin leaned there for a moment, wobbling in place. Suddenly, Gaspar and Wrenlow were there, and they put their arms around his waist, guiding him. They were away from the street, he noted. The blurriness that surrounded him began to increase, making it difficult for him to see anything.

  “What’s wrong with him?” Wrenlow asked.

  “Poison,” Gavin said. “El’aras.”

  “This is not El’aras.”

  It was Anna. She was here?

  He smiled at her, though he felt foolish as he did so.

  “If it’s not El’aras, then what is it?” He tried to keep his eyes open, but he couldn’t. It was as if everything in him had failed. As much as he wanted to stay awake, the fatigue was too much. “I need to get to Cyran. He makes a tea that can help.”

  If there was anyone who would be able to help him, it would be Cyran. Only, Gavin didn’t know if he’d be able to stay awake long enough to reach him.

  “What kind of tea?” Anna asked as she stood in front of him. She was glowing more brightly than she had before.

  He reached for her hair.

  What made it glow like that?

  He’d been around other El’aras during his travels, and he’d never seen any who had hair quite like that.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “Something that restored me. Gave me energy.”

  “Do you have it?”

  “What do I have?” Gavin felt as if he were floating.

  “The Shard.”

  “Lost it. I was coming back to the Dragon with it. I thought I’d ask you about it, but…”

  She was silent for a moment. Were they still moving? Gavin couldn’t tell, but he thought they were. If they were moving, then he wanted to stop. He wanted to sit. Sleep.

  “Let me rest,” he said. “I need to restore my core. Then I can help you.”

  “You won’t be of any use to us like this. Drink.” Anna handed him something. It was cold—almost too cold. He started to push it away, but she took his hands and forced them toward his mouth.

  “Drink. Don’t argue.”

  “What is it?”

  “Sh’rasn.”

  The liquid hit his lips, and he nea
rly cried out. There was a burst of cold that surged along his lips, down his throat, and into his tongue. He tried to ignore it, but it was painful. Tristan had taught him to suppress pain. Gavin had trained for years to perfect that. Even now, he could hide the sense of pain, but there was something about this that made it difficult.

  “Swallow,” she commanded.

  Gavin didn’t have a choice. The liquid worked its way down. He tried to fight and cough, but Anna continued to run her hand along his throat, keeping him from doing anything else. The pain worked through him.

  “What did you do to him?” Wrenlow’s voice sounded distant, as if he were asking the question from across a room.

  Where am I? Where are we all?

  There was darkness around him, though a hint of the glow coming off of Anna’s hair made it so that he could see some. He tried to blink to clear his vision, but it didn’t do anything.

  “The sh’rasn will help,” she said.

  “With what?” Gavin managed to ask.

  “With the separation.”

  “I just need to recover.”

  “You need more than that.” She stayed in front of him, then tipped the mug to his lips again. This time, Gavin didn’t fight. There was no point in doing so. He swallowed, letting the liquid roll down his throat. “This is more than what is normally used, but I suspect you’ve pushed harder than most would have.”

  “Are you sure about this?” Thomas asked. He was nearby—near enough that Gavin could feel him. The sword he carried continued to glow, though its intensity wasn’t nearly as much as what he saw from Anna’s hair.

  “It’s necessary if we want the Shard,” she replied.

  “He doesn’t have it.”

  “No, but he can get it. Can’t you?” she asked, watching Gavin.

  He shook his head. “I don’t know where it is. Told you, when I was coming to the Dragon, I stumbled. It was with me until then…”

  He coughed, trying to clear his throat, but something else happened: His vision started to improve. The pain within him didn’t ease, but that didn’t matter. Gavin could ignore the pain. He looked at Anna. Now that he could see a little bit better, he could make out the glow of her hair—and the concern on her face. Was she worried about him?

  “Most people struggle with the sh’rasn more than this,” she said.

  “Struggle how?” Gavin asked.

  “Pain, mostly. I would’ve expected you to scream.”

  “I’ve experienced quite a bit of pain in my days.”

  “Really? That is… unfortunate.”

  She handed him the mug, and this time Gavin took another drink on his own. When the cold hit his lips and washed along his tongue and throat, he swallowed quickly. Whatever this liquid was happened to be helping. He breathed in, and energy began to return to him.

  Thomas watched with suspicion in his eyes. Gaspar and Wrenlow were on the opposite side of what appeared to be a narrow alley. There was darkness around him, though the glow coming from Anna’s hair and Thomas’s sword helped him see.

  He looked around. “Where’s the dagger?”

  “That’s your first question?” Wrenlow asked.

  “I’ve got a lot of questions. I need the dagger if I’m going to protect myself.”

  “He does need it,” Anna said, turning to Thomas.

  Thomas glared at Gavin, then pulled the dagger from a hidden sheath. He handed it hilt first and took a quick step back.

  “How do you feel?” she asked.

  “Better. What did you do to me?”

  “It’s not a matter of what I did to you, it’s a matter of what had already been done to you. I simply countered it. It was a nasty bit of poisoning. I wouldn’t expect to see it in Yoran, but with the way you were acting…”

  “What do you mean, ‘a nasty bit of poisoning’?”

  “The kind you experienced is one that’s well-known to the El’aras. You were treated with the same thing.”

  “It wasn’t on your blade?” he asked, nodding to Thomas.

  “I wouldn’t dare use that,” Thomas said, disgust filling him.

  “What about the Sumter attackers?”

  “I doubt that any of them would have the means to concoct it. Whatever was done to you required the proper concentration, especially seeing as how potent it was.”

  There was only one explanation.

  Gavin took a deep breath. He was feeling better, and what was more, the core reserves of his strength were starting to return. He could feel that energy within him and thought he might even be able to draw on it if necessary. It was more than what he’d felt in quite some time. He hadn’t realized just how much he’d been missing until now. Now that he could feel it, he recognized that power and the way he needed to call upon it.

  He looked over at Wrenlow and Gaspar before turning his attention to Anna. “Unfortunately, I think I know what happened to me—and to your Shard.”

  Could Cyran really have done this?

  Gavin had gone to him for help, and not only had he been betrayed, he’d been poisoned as well. It didn’t make sense that his oldest friend would do that to him. He couldn’t believe it, but he didn’t have any other explanation.

  Everything started to come together in pieces, though none of it made sense.

  How could Cyran have been the one?

  Other theories formed, ideas that made even less sense.

  Cyran couldn’t be…

  Gavin shook that thought away and took a deep breath, nodding toward the mug. “How much can I have?”

  “There is a limit to how much the El’aras can tolerate. Mostly, it’s a matter of the pain.”

  He tipped back the contents of the mug and swallowed it in one gulp. The pain that flared within him was incredible, and he tried to tamp it down and ignore it. Even as he attempted to do so, he struggled.

  Gavin collapsed.

  “What did you do?” Wrenlow asked Anna.

  “This is on him,” she said.

  Gavin looked up and saw that she had an arm restraining Wrenlow. Pain continued to work through him, which he fought to ignore. He took a deep breath, holding onto the energy within him, trying to push back that pain and agony. He had no choice but to do so.

  Finally, it started to ease and fade away. Getting back to his feet, he took another deep breath and found more of what he needed—that energy and that strength.

  He looked over at Thomas. “We might need your blade.”

  “We?”

  “If you want to get your Shard back, it’s going to have to be a ‘we.’” Gavin looked over at Gaspar, adding, “And I might need your thieving skills.”

  “Why?”

  “Cyran was one of Tristan’s best students. He didn’t always see it that way, but he had one of the brightest minds. I’d always relied upon the fact that he was on my side. I hadn’t considered that he might be working against me.”

  Even now, Gavin had a hard time coming to terms with it—but everything fit. More than that, a different suspicion had started to form. The jobs had always seemed so perfect for him, almost as if they’d been tailored to him.

  Because they had been.

  He should’ve been more suspicious before now, but he’d simply taken the jobs and was willing to do the work. It had been a long time since he’d questioned this.

  Tristan would’ve been disappointed in him.

  “If Cyran is responsible for what happened to me, I suspect he’s the one who also took the Shard. He’s probably even our employer,” he said, glancing at Wrenlow.

  And he would’ve been the one responsible for Sumter. He’d mentioned traveling in the South, and there were the items Gavin had seen in the house.

  Wrenlow’s eyes widened. “Why would your friend do that?”

  “I don’t know. But I intend to find out.”

  He started down the alley, and when he reached the end of it, there was movement along the street. It was late enough in the day that he stepped out without
worrying about anyone else. He did need to know whether Jessica was safe from the attack.

  “What about the Sumter attackers?” Wrenlow asked.

  “That has to be Cyran too,” Gavin said.

  He didn’t have a lot of experience with Sumter, only that they were skilled swordsmen from the South. They were probably working for Cyran, but he had to wonder if perhaps there was something else to that, especially since he felt as if he understood so little.

  He hurried through the streets. Now that his energy had returned, it was easier for him to make his way, and the others kept pace with him. Gavin glanced over to see Anna and Thomas staying with him.

  “You don’t have to come with us,” he said to her.

  “I intend to reclaim the Shard,” she said.

  “Even if it means putting yourself in danger?”

  “For the Shard, I will.”

  Yoran was large, and it took a while for them to navigate to the edge of the city. When they reached the central market, Gavin hesitated. This was where he’d collapsed. This was where Wrenlow had found him. He’d been going in the wrong direction from the Dragon. It was a wonder Wrenlow had found him. He had to thank him, but later.

  Moving onward, he weaved through the street until he reached Cyran’s home. There was no smoke rising from the chimney as there had been before. He paused on the street, glancing at the others. “This is his shop. His home.”

  Anna closed her eyes, and when she opened them, she shook her head. “There is no one here.”

  Thomas moved forward, and he slammed his sword into the door, prying it open.

  The door exploded, tossing Gavin, Wrenlow, and Gaspar back. Anna reacted, holding her hands out and twisting her wrists slightly. Something curved around Thomas, who looked frozen.

  Gavin got to his feet and helped the other two up. He turned and watched Anna and Thomas, who stood in the doorway. Neither of them looked harmed, though Thomas frowned as he stared inside, sniffing.

  “An interesting precaution,” Thomas said.

  “Dangerous, as well,” Anna replied. “He would have to have control over it to have placed it.”