Iron Breakers: The Floodgates (Iron Breakers Book 3)

by Zaya Feli

  Anik met his eyes before taking the sword. Pushing to his knees, he rounded on Halvard and Ren couldn't help but compare it to the way the lions had cornered their prey.

  Halvard's bulging eyes rolled up and settled on Anik's face. His lips moved, but no sound came out.

  Anik knelt gracefully, extending the sword so that the tip pressed against Halvard's unprotected gut. The flesh seemed to give and the blade slid in deep. Anik kept pushing, burying the blade to the hilt. A single tremble rocked Halvard's body before it went still.

  Anik slipped the sword free, leaned forward, and wiped the blood on the dead king's robes. Then he stood. He checked the blade, cleaning a lingering droplet with the edge of his sleeve before handing it back to Ren.

  Ren took it, running his fingers along the finely wrapped hilt and the stag's head on the pommel. Raising his head, he stared at the body of the man who had caused him so much grief. A part of Ren couldn't help but think it strange that Halvard had died so easily. Like any other man.

  Anik seemed to drag his eyes from Halvard's still body. He searched Ren's face, coming towards him with a hand outstretched. “How are you feeling?”

  Ren opened his mouth to speak, but instead of words, a sigh escaped him. He closed the space between them and drew Anik against his chest. Anik hugged him fiercely, a hand against the back of Ren's head. Ren revelled in it, let the warmth and comfort of Anik's body against his own soothe him.

  “I was so afraid I'd lose you,” Ren whispered, all the shock and adrenaline of the day's events manifesting as tears that trickled from his eyes and onto Anik's bare shoulder. Anik held him so tightly he could barely breathe, but in that moment, Ren never wanted to let go.

  “I'm so fucking proud of you.” Anik's voice was hushed, but Ren heard every word. He let them settle in his bones and supply him with the last bit of energy he needed.

  Anik released him too soon, raising his hands to wipe Ren's cheeks with his thumbs. “This place is crawling with guards. We need to get out of here.”

  “Here,” Ren said, handing Anik Hellic's sword.

  Ren let Anik lead him back towards the throne room. He could see Berin's still form from the corner of his eye, his body twisted unnaturally where he had collapsed.

  “Don't look,” Anik murmured, grip tightening on Ren's hand.

  Ren forced his eyes away, focusing instead on the door leading to the corridor, his head too full to wrap itself entirely around the scene.

  Halvard was dead.

  It was over.

  The door crashed open.

  Soldiers rushed through, surrounding them. The sound of splintering wood announced the arrival of guards flooding through the door of the greeting room behind them.

  Ren staggered, reaching for his sword, but a sharp sound from Anik made him pause.

  Ren turned towards him. Anik's face had lost all colour and his eyes were wide and scared. His grip tightened almost painfully on Ren's wrist.

  “Who would have thought you two would make it so easy for me?”

  The voice chilled Ren to the bone. He turned slowly, not wanting to face the man standing behind him. Ren had forgotten about him. In the midst of all his anxiety and relief, he had forgotten.

  Nathair stood with a hand on the hilt of his sword. Around him, a dozen guards pointed the tips of their swords at Ren and Anik.

  No. Halvard was dead. It was over. They'd won.

  Ren only realised he'd said the words out loud when they drew a mocking laugh from Nathair.

  “Oh, you stupid little boy. It's not over until I say it's over. Take them below.”

  Before Ren had a chance to draw his sword, the pommel of a sword filled his vision. The blow to his head sent a jolt of agony through him and then the world went dark.

  * * *

  Ren's hands were bound behind his back. His head throbbed. When he opened his eyes, the light seemed too bright, so he squeezed them shut. A hand closing around his jaw made him flinch. When he opened his eyes again, he looked into Nathair's stony face.

  Ren jerked his head back, the movement only making it pound worse, but it was worth it to get the man's disgusting hands off his face. Ren's breastplate was gone. So was his jacket.

  “The new crown prince has graced us with his presence,” Nathair drawled. He straightened, moving out of Ren's line of sight. “How lucky we are.”

  Ren blinked, trying to clear his head. He looked around. The floor he sat on was cold, damp stone. At first, he didn't recognize his surroundings because he had spent so little time here. The servants baths were on the ground floor, built as an extension behind the castle. The round chambers in the floor were empty. On a table near the wall lay their weapons. Warm sunlight streamed in from the windows under the ceiling, casting Anik in golden light where he sat against one of the supporting pillars opposite Ren, hands bound behind his back.

  Ren tugged on the ropes, but there was barely any give. The length was wrapped firmly around the square pillar.

  Anik didn't move, head low and eyes wide. Ren could tell he followed Nathair’s every move.

  “Are you all right?” Ren asked, looking Anik up and down for fresh injuries but finding none.

  Nathair didn't give Anik a chance to answer, letting out a bark that hardly sounded like laughter. “Look at these lovebirds. How adorable,” he said, tilting his head towards a shadowed corner. “Don't you think?”

  Ren looked up, searching for the person in the shadows. A small table creaked as the figure pushed forward and came into the light.

  Ren swallowed. Niklas looked even worse than when Ren had last seen him. The old bruise on his face had been replaced by a fresh one around his throat, and his eyes were dark and empty. It took Ren's breath away. He had never seen his best friend so defeated. Ren's eyes narrowed and he turned them on Nathair. “What the fuck have you done to him?”

  Niklas made a soft sound, turning his face away. The smile that spread on Nathair's face when he came closer twisted Ren's gut. Before Ren could lose his courage, he gathered a glob of saliva on his tongue and spat in Nathair's face.

  The slap that followed landed so quickly that Ren had no time to brace for it and his head jerked painfully to the side.

  Across from Ren, Anik growled, wood groaning as he tugged on his bonds. “What the fuck do you want?”

  Nathair stood and rounded on Anik. “What do I want? We have time. This is the last place anyone will look for you. We might as well turn this mess of a situation into something enjoyable before we take our leave.”

  Ren raised his head, the spot where Nathair's heavy ring had made impact with his cheekbone throbbing. “Evalyne's winning the battle. Halvard is dead. There's nowhere for you to run.”

  “Two steps behind as always, Ren,” Nathair said. He turned away from Anik, hand going to his belt. He didn't carry a sword, but rather many knives of varying lengths and shapes. He drew one and wiggled it in Anik's direction. “The two rats you brought with you were very willing to tell me all about that little escape route you used to free the hostages. Once I threatened to slice the skin off their leader's well-defined musculature.”

  Anik made a sound of despair.

  Dread filled Ren's gut. Valkon and Cainon. He closed his eyes. If Nathair had gotten to them, they were already dead. Taking a breath, Ren struggled to focus. If they could keep Nathair talking, maybe Evalyne would have a chance to reach them in time. “The hidden door is half a dozen yards from here. Evalyne's soldiers will cut you down the moment you step out of the castle gate.” Ren made his voice hard.

  “Why, did you think you're just here to enjoy the show?” Nathair asked, raising an eyebrow at Ren. “Your people seem fond of you despite your weak blood. They're not going to take a shot at me if I have you in as a shield.”

  Ren's heart sank.

  “Halvard was a fool. For him, it was all about power. I tried to tell him he'd get himself killed, but he didn't listen. I'll kill the last prince of Frayne and return with an
army to strike this nation down while it's reeling from the loss of its entire royal family. The victory will be almost too easy.” He crouched in front of Anik, looking him up and down. “As you know, I like it when they fight back. Then again, I'm not going to say no when the good people of Frayne get on their knees and hand me their capital city.” Nathair moved behind Anik and Anik twisted, trying to keep Nathair in his line of sight, but he was too firmly tied.

  “Before we go,” Nathair said quietly, raking the tip of the blade up Anik's arm, “I'll enjoy getting a little revenge for the pain you've caused me.”

  Niklas backed against the wall, turning away. He looked like he was going to be sick, like he wanted to merge with the wall and disappear.

  Ren's eyes darted from Niklas to Nathair, pulse quickening. Anik's eyes were wide with fear, muscles tense, and Ren remembered what Anik had told him about his time in the Iskaal dungeons, what Nathair had done to him. It ignited a fury in Ren so intense he could barely contain it. “Keep your hands off him or I swear, I will-”

  “What?” Nathair angled the blade, slipping the tip under the skin of Anik's upper arm, slicing a half-circle into his flesh.

  Anik jerked against the pillar, his jaw clenching audibly.

  “What will you do?” Nathair continued. He leaned forward, stroking a hand down Anik's bare chest to the edge of his trousers.

  Anik flinched, but Nathair simply repeated the motion.

  Ren tugged on his restraints, the coarse rope biting into his flesh.

  Nathair continued. “How painful do you think castration is? I've always wondered. Of course, I've had some practice, so I'm quicker than I used to be.” He let the tip of the blade follow the path of his hand down Anik's front. “Do you know how long it takes to bleed out from a severed cock? Give me your best guess,” he continued, raising an eyebrow at Ren.

  Ren swallowed the bile rising in his throat. What if Evalyne wasn't fast enough? Would he have to sit here and watch Anik bleed out? When he spoke, the words came out breathless. “You've had Anik before,” he said, sounding nowhere near as confident as he would have liked, but he had to try. “You know what he's like. What he can take and what he can't. Where's the fun in that? You've never had a prince. You have no idea what makes me scream.”

  Anik's eyes widened, face draining of colour. “No, Ren, you idiot. Shut up!” Anik thrashed, boots skidding against the floor.

  Ren hated putting that fear in Anik's eyes, but fear was better than pain. For a moment, Nathair seemed to consider it, raking his eyes hungrily over Ren's body, making Ren feel naked despite the layers of clothes. Then Nathair huffed and shook his head. “A shame I need you intact for a swift escape. I'd have liked to find out if you're tougher than you look, but perhaps we'll have time for that on the road.” Getting to his feet, Nathair strode to the windows, standing on a stool to look outside. “We do, however, have time for a quick castration. Boy, get the ropes and tie the dog's legs apart,” Nathair said, waving a hand in Niklas' direction.

  A shout sounded from the other side of the door, followed by another. Loud thumps rattled the wood. For a moment, Ren thought Evalyne's soldiers might have made it in time, but then the shouts were followed by screams of horror and a roar that vibrated through the stone floor.

  Ren's eyes widened. Anik's head shot up and he looked between Ren and the door. Even Nathair stopped in his tracks.

  Ren's gaze flicked to Niklas. Niklas met his eyes, face pale and eyes brimming with tears. Niklas mouthed something, three words that were unmistakable. Then he lunged at the door, grabbed the handle, and yanked it open.

  Nathair's shout, his attempt to reach Niklas, came too late.

  The first lion burst through the open door, slamming into Niklas' chest and knocking him over like he weighed nothing. The second leapt clear of the first and landed in the centre of the room, looking around before it settled its gaze on Nathair.

  Nathair raised his knife, hand trembling so much Ren thought he might drop it. Then Nathair seemed to change his mind and turned, bolting towards the far wall in an attempt to get around the massive beast.

  No man could outrun a lion.

  The lion caught Nathair by the legs as he rounded Ren's pillar.

  Ren closed his eyes and curled up tight, the lion's tail whipping against his face as it pounced on the screaming man with a growl that seemed to shake the walls. Ren couldn't see flesh tear and bones crush, but he could hear the sounds of it, the gruesome wet wrenching of muscle and crunching of bones.

  The third lion stalked inside after the first two, walked straight past Ren and Anik, and joined the one by the pillar. It snuffled Nathair's shredded remains with interest, earning a quiet rumble from the lion who had made the kill, but with none of their targets alive to chase, the lions lost interest, bellies full from feasting in the courtyard.

  The first two left the baths without looking back. The third lingered, wandering over to nose Ren's bloodied trousers. It stuck out its tongue and tasted the blood on his knee, huffing out a warm breath before raising its head. It looked Ren dead in the eye and Ren stared back, undaunted. The creature turned, following the others. Ren looked after them, then turned to Anik.

  Anik stared at him with an expression of disbelief. “What in the world did I just watch?”

  A smile grew on Ren's face, not sure if it looked as manic as he felt. “I made some friends.”

  “No shit.”

  The glint of steel caught Ren's eye and he looked down to where Nathair had dropped the knife. Stretching out a leg and twisting his body, he managed to pin it under the toe of his boot and drag it closer. Kicking it backwards was awkward and he almost sliced his fingers when the blade skidded across the floor, but there was no way he'd sit here for one more second. Picking up the knife between his bound hands, he turned it and pressed the blade against the rope. The angle was near impossible and his wrist cramped within seconds, but the rope was bound so tight, it split with little effort. With a groan, Ren wiggled his arms, loosening the rope until he could slip out of its loops. He crossed the room and knelt beside Anik, making quick work of the knots that held him.

  The moment Anik was free, he wrapped his arms around Ren and drew him against his chest. He dropped his head on Ren's shoulder. “I went back, Ren. I went back to save a girl. I didn't run for the door when I should have. I caused this entire fucking mess.” His shoulders shook.

  Ren hushed Anik, holding him tight. “It's okay. We're okay. The hostages are free, Halvard is dead, Nathair is dead.”

  Anik raised his head, running a hand through his disordered hair. He tugged on the leather band to free the strands. “You didn't get to kill him like you wanted to,” he said, looking over Ren's shoulder at Nathair's mangled body.

  Ren followed his gaze. “Well,” he said, shrugging. “Eaten by lions would have been my second choice.”

  Anik stood, crossing over to where Nathair lay staring at the wall with unseeing eyes.

  Ren followed.

  It was a gruesome sight, flesh torn and bits of bone exposed, but Ren wanted to take it in. The sight of the man who had hurt Anik – hurt them both – gone for good.

  When Ren turned around, he recoiled. Niklas lay by the door, head twisted too far to the side, face and clothes splattered with blood. It was the same sight, only Ren's stomach turned and something tight and painful clawed at the inside of his chest. When he felt Anik's hand wrap around his neck and turn him away, he went willingly.

  “Come on,” Anik said.

  A deep, mournful horn sounded across the city, the sound finding its way even here, to the servant baths below the castle. Ren looked at Anik, then headed for the table to retrieve their swords.

  They leaned against each other, supporting one another's weight as they scaled the staircase to the upper level, through the corridors and into the grand entrance hall. The doors burst open and Ren stopped at the top of the stairs, watching soldiers flood inside. They were people Ren knew, people who had
worked to protect his family since before he was born. Ren could see their joy and relief as they embraced each other and shouted their excitement to their brothers. Among them were Lowlanders, looking around with curious fascination at the grandness of the Alerian castle. Slowly, the soldiers stilled as they looked to the top of the stairs and spotted Ren and Anik. One by one, they sank to their knees and bowed their heads.

  From behind them came a single figure, red hair wild around her face as she raised her eyes and greeted them with a wave.

  “We have the city,” Ren said, feeling a bone-deep relief replace the weariness in his body. They had lost so many friends, but now Ren could say with absolute certainty that their deaths hadn't been in vain. The gaping black holes they had left in his heart had been for a purpose.

  Anik turned his face into the side of Ren's neck and Ren felt him smile against his skin. Anik squeezed him with the arm around his waist. “Welcome home.”

  The End.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  This trilogy started as a wild and seemingly overambitious project in May 2015. Never before had I taken on something so large and detailed. Being more of a visual artist than a writer, and tackling this project in a language that wasn't my own made it a daunting task. But the massive amount of support I received from online communities before the first book was even published, completely blew me away. Hundreds of people signed up to follow the progress of this story, and so much of my motivation came from the support and encouragement of everyone who wanted to see this book complete.

  I owe so much to Thea Davison, who spent countless hours on Skype listening to my endless rambles, frustrations and ideas, and who read thousands of words of this story in an effort to help me polish dialogue and grammar. I couldn't have done this without you.

  To my lovely editor, Sarah Wright, who spent her free time making sure the final story was as good as it could be. Your help was invaluable.