Empire of Chains (World in Chains Book 1)

by Ryan W. Mueller

  When he was on his second glass, the door opened to his right, and in strode a large man wearing a yellow surcoat.

  "Good afternoon, Captain Young," Berig said.

  "Good afternoon, Berig." Leon Young, captain of the Bradenton town guard, sat down two stools away. "Just got off duty."

  Berig should've felt nervous around the guard captain—the man had arrested him four times after all—but Berig considered him a friend.

  Some life you've got here, Berig thought. Your best friends are an innkeeper, a guard captain, and an Imperial Guard.

  The captain sipped the glass of ale Liam had served him. "You all right, Berig? You look troubled."

  Berig took a deep breath, then explained his predicament.

  Once Berig finished, Captain Young said, "I don't think there's anything I can do. I might not agree with Amar's interest rates, but there's nothing illegal about them. You got yourself into debt, Berig, and you'll have to get yourself out of it." He took another sip. "And if I catch even a whiff of anything illegal, you'll go straight to prison."

  "Some friend you are."

  "Guard captain first, friend second. Always."

  Berig had expected that answer. He gulped down the rest of his ale. "What should I do, then? How long am I gonna end up in prison?"

  "Well, under the Empire's laws, for debt of more than ten gold coins, a moneylender can ask for a sentence of up to five years. He'll turn you in either to us or the Imperial Guards. I promise we'll treat you fairly. Can't guarantee the same for the Imperial Guards."

  Liam put down the rag. "Maybe you could leave town, Berig."

  "Wouldn't work," Captain Young said. "As long as he stays around here, Amar will make sure the Imperial Guards find him." He stroked his reddish beard. "Maybe if you could get somewhere north of the Fire Mountains or east of the Forest of Darkness."

  "Yeah, that's right. I'll just go and cross places no one ever has."

  "Good point," the captain said. "The southern part of the Fire Mountains ain't so bad. My father used to take me there as a kid. But there are parts farther north that are too dangerous." He sighed. "That's the best I've got."

  Berig looked down at the counter. "Thanks for trying."

  "You'll figure out something," Liam said.

  Berig slid his glass across the bar, then rose and strode out the front door. Evening had arrived, but a few hours remained before the sun would set and the monster would approach. Liam and the captain had given Berig a lot to think about.

  Regardless of how much he feared death, it was his best option

  But how would he kill himself? A sword would be painful, and he doubted he'd have the courage. Poison would take too long and leave too much room for error. Maybe he could stay outside once night fell and let the monster get him. Or a quick beheading, the way Imperial Guards executed people. His old friend Gram could do it.

  Gram. That was the answer. If Amar died, all Berig's troubles would disappear. With a newfound bounce in his step, he walked around the business district, where Gram usually patrolled

  Then Berig stopped. He'd done a lot of bad things, but he'd never killed anyone, and the thought made him nauseous. It's him or you, Berig. You've gotta do it.

  A few minutes later, he found Gram patrolling the open-air market in the middle of town.

  "How's it going," Gram asked.

  "Not so well." Berig explained his situation, hoping Gram would agree to his plan. Yes, Gram was an Imperial Guard, and he looked rough, but he wasn't an evil bastard. Still, doubts lingered in Berig's mind. Amar had a family, and they would suffer without him.

  Even if Berig didn't wield the blade, the blood would be on his hands.

  Once Berig finished explaining, Gram said, "I take it you want me to do something."

  "Okay, this is gonna sound crazy." Berig took a breath, leaning against an empty vendor's stall, then spoke softly. "I need you to kill him for me. It's the only way out."

  "They'll know you had something to do with it."

  "I'm not the only person in trouble with him," Berig said. It was a weak argument, but he was running out of options. Already, he could see the barred door slamming shut in front of him, feel the soul-crushing humiliation of being caged.

  "It'll still look suspicious," Gram said. "You did tell the guard captain about your problem after all."

  "Then what should I do?"

  Berig prayed that Gram would come up with an answer that didn't involve murder. Even now, as desperate as Berig was, he felt sick at the thought of killing Amar.

  Frowning with concern, Gram scratched at his few days' growth of brown beard. "Well, there is something, but it's kind of insane."

  * * * * *

  Darien Warrick smiled as he read the Webs of Fate. The strands of Berig's life had grown clearer, showing him where he needed to be. It had taken a little effort, but nothing beyond Darien's capabilities. All he'd done was plant the seed of an idea in Gram's head.

  Gram had done the exact thing Darien had expected. Good men were easy to manipulate.

  It had been a long time since Darien could call himself a good man. Did the end justify the means? He was looking to make a better future for everyone. How many lives could he destroy on the way? How could he know if he'd even succeed?

  Was he torturing innocent people for nothing more than personal gain?

  Berig's life bothered him the most. He had taken only one parent from Nadia, and she had a comfortable life. More comfortable than anything Darien had known at her age. Likewise, he had taken Markus's parents but left him with an uncle. Yes, Markus had to work hard, but that was nothing unusual in this world. He'd enjoyed stability and comfort.

  But Berig was different. Even before Darien had ordered the village burned, ordered that Berig and his brother be spared, he'd known the kind of life Berig would endure.

  A life of hardship and cruelty. A life much like Darien's own.

  But it was necessary. The world was full of conflict, overrun with monsters and other dangers, plagued by corruption and prejudice. People liked to believe in God, but He'd done nothing for them. Darien wasn't even sure He existed. As far as Darien knew, there were three higher beings. Perhaps they could be called gods, but they weren't so different from sorcerers like Darien.

  Whatever they were, they'd already failed once, leading to the Old World's destruction. Darien couldn't let that happen again. Every sacrifice he made was necessary.

  Oh, how he hated that word.

  Chapter 4

  Nadia arrived at the Order meeting with Kara and her two guards, Varek and Len. She'd left earlier that evening on the pretense of spending the night at Kara's, keeping her true doings secret from her father. As always.

  If he discovered what she was doing, he'd never let her leave the castle again.

  The house's central room proved a tight fit for the more than thirty rebels in attendance. Nadia's party took seats in the first row, joined by Kara's cousin Aric and Aric's friend Lord Ander.

  "I'm glad we all got here safely," Ander said, scratching his clean-shaven chin. Even if he was thirty years old, he looked the picture of perfection. Sturdy build. Dark brown hair. A good man too. Nadia hoped her father would choose Ander as her suitor.

  However, with her life plans, she had no room for a husband. Any man she chose to love, and who loved in her return, would suffer if she died trying to kill Warrick.

  "Did Kara tell you what I discovered?" Nadia asked Ander.

  "I heard, but I have no idea how we can get these magical staffs, or if anyone will even be able to use them." He gave her a sympathetic smile. "I know how much this means to you. We'll talk more after the meeting."

  Low conversation filled the room, but Nadia felt no desire to speak yet. She'd wait to deliver her news until after the meeting, and only to those she trusted most.

  This secret could not fall into the wrong hands.

  Carlos Little, the Order's local leader, began the pre-meeting prayer from a
podium in the front of the room. Nadia closed her eyes and clasped her hands in her lap.

  "God our Protector, God our Lord, please hear our prayers," Carlos said. "Please protect us from the evils of Warrick's regime. Please give us the power to save the people from Warrick's tyranny. Please forgive us for the sins we have committed, as we also forgive those who have wronged us. Allow us to reach the destiny You gave us. In Your name, we pray. Amen."

  Following the prayer, people spoke about routine Order business. Protecting people from Imperial Guards. Concealing profits to avoid Warrick's excessive taxation. Shipments of black market goods from other cities. Boring. They never accomplished anything important.

  Toward the end of the meeting, a visiting member of the Order from Varner City stepped to the podium, holding a wooden staff about three feet long. Nadia couldn't believe her eyes. Hadn't Ander told her they couldn't obtain staffs like these?

  "We've recently received this staff and others like it from Mountainside through a smuggler." The man held the staff high. "We're bringing them to the Order throughout the region. Cyrus Middleton created this staff, giving us access to magic. A chance to fight."

  Low murmurs sounded, and Nadia leaned forward with interest. Would the Order find a way to do something meaningful?

  But why had this man shown up now, when she needed magic the most? She didn't believe in coincidences. Somebody had to be planning this. But who?

  "Unfortunately," the man said, "very few people can channel magic through the staff. We will each have to hold the staff to see who can. To most people, it'll feel like an ordinary staff. To those few who can use it, it will feel . . . different."

  He stepped away from the podium and handed the staff to the closest person. One by one, people took it in their hands. Nadia could sense the building disappointment with each uneventful exchange. She squirmed in her seat, waiting for her turn. When she took the staff, she expected to feel its power. After all, she'd always had her visions and intuitions.

  But she felt nothing. Her heart sank, and she passed the staff to Kara.

  Nothing happened for Kara either, but when Ander took the staff, he looked down at it with wide eyes. "I-I think I feel something. It's amazing."

  Everyone clapped, but their enthusiasm soon died. Only Ander could use the staff.

  The man from Varner City returned the staff to Ander. "That staff now belongs to you. Use it well." He stepped away from the podium. "And with that, I'll take my leave. I have more meetings to attend."

  Ander and Aric held a whispered conversation as Aric examined the staff with a gleeful smile. Nadia felt the urge to smile as well. Aric was quite the scholar. Something like this had to be fascinating for him.

  The visitor left the house, and the meeting concluded shortly thereafter. Once people began filing out, Nadia pulled Ander, Aric, and Kara aside. Varek and Len remained nearby.

  "I have something I need to share with you," she said. "And with Carlos too."

  They called him over.

  Nadia took a deep breath, displaying the book she'd found. "I think this book, along with my mother's notes, holds the key to killing Warrick."

  They all looked at her with raised eyebrows. After another breath, she explained everything she knew about White Fire and Woodsville.

  "So that's where we have to go," she said. "If we can find that scroll, we can kill Warrick."

  Kara frowned. "I still say you're guessing here. You don't know that this scroll the commander wrote about was White Fire. That's simply what you hope it is."

  Nadia glared at Kara. She was supposed to take Nadia's side.

  "I'd have to agree there," Ander said. "Nadia, I know how much you want to kill Warrick, and you know we all want that to happen, but we can't keep chasing impossible dreams. Going to a place like Woodsville for anything less than a certain bet is not a good idea."

  Nadia leaned against a wooden desk, trying not to snap at them. Why did everyone have to tell her she was being foolish? Didn't they understand that they weren't accomplishing anything with the Order?

  "This is a chance to change things," Nadia said, keeping her tone level and patient. "Sometimes you have to take chances. I understand perfectly well that this idea is insane, that I could even be wrong. But what's the point of resisting Emperor Warrick if we're never going to change anything? We might as well give up."

  She looked at the others' faces, praying they'd understand. Kara continued frowning, and Ander's expression was blank. Carlos shook his head.

  Aric, however, stroked his reddish beard. "Actually, she has a point. I'm not saying we should go into Woodsville on so little evidence, but we shouldn't eliminate the possibility either. After all, why would Warrick go to such efforts to hide a mere scroll? Logic says that scroll must be dangerous to him, perhaps something that could kill him."

  Nadia exhaled with relief. "Thank you."

  "However, as I said, we can't act on so little. I'm sorry, Nadia."

  Nadia understood his reasons, but she couldn't give up without trying.

  "You don't understand," she said. "This is a perfect opportunity. What are the chances that we would acquire these staffs now? We can't ignore providence like this."

  "It is but one staff," Ander said. "I doubt I can stand against the creatures of Woodsville alone."

  Nadia held back tears. "I guess I'll have to go there by myself then."

  It was an empty threat, and it sounded childish even to her ears. But if it came down to it, maybe she'd have to follow through.

  Still, she worried that going to Woodsville was the wrong thing to do. Perhaps someone wanted her to go there and had supplied the Order with this staff to make it happen. She had no idea if such a person had good intentions, but she couldn't sit there and do nothing.

  She had to avenge her mother.

  Chapter 5

  Markus shuddered as he looked into the vast, tree-filled valley ahead of him. A strange darkness hung like a curtain over the ruins of Woodsville.

  Rik grinned. "Let's investigate."

  "You're kidding, right?"

  "No, we'll never have the chance again."

  "Rik, what we're doing is dangerous enough—"

  "But don't you want to know if the stories are true?" Rik pointed at the ruins. "Personally, I think they're a bunch of crap. People have a way of exaggerating. Let's take a look."

  "There's some kind of dark cloud hanging over the city. Can't you see it?"

  "No, it looks just like anywhere else."

  Markus squinted at the dark city, wondering if he was imagining things, but there was no doubt. The city looked as though it were cast in eternal shade. Through gaps in the thick foliage, Markus saw rectangular stone buildings, cracked and worn with age.

  Something moved in the shadows.

  "You done being scared?" Rik asked. As much as Markus liked Rik, he hated it when his friend took on that mocking tone. It always goaded Markus to action.

  "I'm not scared," he said, though he was. "I just think it's a bad idea." He pointed at the city. "Are you sure you don't notice how dark it looks?"

  "You're just imagining things."

  "I wasn't imagining things last night," Markus said, fighting back his anger. "I felt something you couldn't. Doesn't it make sense that I might be seeing something you can't?"

  "Yeah, it could, but I still want to check out the city. If it gets too dangerous, we can always turn back, right?" Rik started down the long hill leading to the edge of the ruins. "You coming or not?"

  Markus hesitated, but the thought of leaving Rik to enter this place alone terrified him. Life without Rik sounded bleak and empty.

  They descended the steep hill, dislodging small rocks as they grew closer to the unnatural darkness.

  "I think we've gotten close enough." Markus strained to keep his voice calm. "Can't you feel the evil in the air? It's everywhere. Let's turn back."

  "I don't feel a thing. You're just scared."

  As Markus
followed Rik, glaring at the back of his head, the sky darkened—that strange darkness only Markus could see. They reached the first cracked and crumbling stone building at the city's edge. Trees and vines had grown all around the stone, blocking the windows and door.

  "Don't think we're gonna get in that one," Rik said.

  "I don't want to go into any of these buildings," Markus muttered. Rik didn't seem to hear, or maybe he was ignoring Markus.

  They pushed through low-hanging branches and vines, walking in eerie silence. No birds chirping. No insects buzzing. No animals scurrying through the underbrush.

  "Doesn't it bother you how quiet it is?" Markus asked.

  "Maybe a little bit." Rik continued until they found a house where the entrance wasn't blocked. He ducked through the door, and Markus followed, trying to calm his quick breathing and pounding heart. As soon as they entered the house, the air became frigid.

  "I-I don't like it in here," Markus said. "It's cold again."

  "I don't feel a thing, and we haven't seen anything dangerous."

  Markus paused near the house's entrance, watching Rik investigate. Apart from stone counters and old vases and urns scattered about the house, the place showed little evidence that people had once lived there. Not surprising, since the Great War had taken place nine hundred years ago, four hundred years before Warrick's rise to power.

  "Come over here," Rik said. "I think I found something."

  What now? Markus thought, glaring as he walked over to Rik, who was pointing through the tangle of vines growing along the wall. There was a large opening there, a door of some kind. The closer Markus came to it, the more the cold intensified, and the more his legs trembled.

  He stopped a few feet from Rik. "I really don't like this."

  "I want to know where it goes." Rik took out his axe and hacked at the vines, loosening them, then tearing them away. Beyond the opening, cracked stone steps led downward into blackness. Markus came nearer to get a better look, but when he reached Rik's side, his legs collapsed. The air felt so cold his bones ached. Evil came from that opening.