Master of Chains (29 page)

As they patrolled, the guards hardly even turned their attention away from their conversations. Only once did Ryder see a soldier actually look out off the wall through the crenellations. They really weren’t paying any attention to the ground in front of the Hold, seemingly convinced that the doors, the portcullis, and their presence would make anyone wanting to get in think twice.

They were wrong.

“Are you ready?” asked Ryder.

Curtis nodded. “Yes. I think so.”

Ryder frowned at the illusionist. “What do you mean, ‘I think so?’”

Curtis shrugged. “I mean I think I’m ready. I won’t really know if I’m ready until I actually try to be ready. Judging from every other experience I have, all signs point to me being ready.” He held a finger in the air. “But you never know. I provide no assurances.”

Ryder shook his head. “Get on with it.”

“Right,” said Curtis, and he began to cast a spell. Waving his hands over Ryder’s head, the illusionist spoke two quiet words then snapped his fingers.

Ryder looked down at his hands. All he could see was the dirt and stones on the ground below. His body was completely invisible.

“Guess I was ready,” said Curtis.

“Good work,” said Ryder. “Now head back and meet up with the others. You know what to do, don’t you?”

Curtis nodded. “I think so.”

Ryder sighed. “Well, I guess that will have to do.”

“All right,” said Curtis, and without another word he turned and walked back toward where the Broken Spear would be waiting for Ryder’s signal.

Ryder watched the wall. When the first guards came into sight, he started counting. When the same guards had moved out of view, he crept closer to the drawbridge. Darting under the huge links, he jumped, grabbed hold of the massive chain, and clung to its underside. Then he waited, finishing the count he started when the guards had moved out of sight. From where he was, he couldn’t see the patrolling guardsmen. He smiled. Even if he could, they certainly couldn’t see him.

Hanging there, upside down, Ryder counted. When he reached three hundred he began to climb. Hand over hand, he pulled himself up the chain. He moved cautiously, not wanting to rattle the links or to call any attention to himself. He was invisible, but not silent.

The going was slow, but soon he was close to the top. The chain entered the wall just below the bottom of the crenellations. As he got close, Ryder could hear the guards conversing.

“Do you think there is any truth to the rumors that the Crimson Awl are planning a raid on Zerith Hold?” asked one man.

Ryder stopped climbing to listen.

“No,” said another. “Haven’t heard much out of them for a while.”

Ryder smiled. By morning, they will have heard something out of the Awl.

He continued to climb until he got to the edge of the stone. The voices of the two guards grew softer as they moved on. When Ryder could no longer hear them, he hoisted himself up on top of the chain and through the hole in the wall.

Slipping inside, Ryder let himself down onto the darkened floor. As he had suspected, the chains ran through the wall and down into a torchlit courtyard beyond. About a man’s height above ground level there was a raised platform that ran the entire circumference of the courtyard. In the middle of the platform, the iron links of the chains connected to a circular contraption that was covered with gears and had a large crank attached to one side.

Though the chain was the way Ryder had intended to enter the Hold, the platform below was not empty. Archers patrolled along the edge, looking down toward the wooden doors and iron portcullis, ready to pincushion anyone who set foot inside. If he climbed down the chain, he’d likely be heard.

Guess I underestimated this entrance, thought Ryder.

Though it was a clear night, a slight breeze blew through the openings in the wall. Turning away from the courtyard, Ryder scanned the space around him. Up here, where the chains ran through the stone, there was a narrow room. Only a small amount of light came in through the slits from the courtyard below, but it was enough for Ryder to see a ladder leading through the floor.

Better than taking the chain, he thought.

Placing his foot on the top rung, Ryder lowered himself one foot at a time into the shaft.

The ladder ended maybe fifty rungs below and left off hanging in midair above a stone floor. Ryder stopped on the second to last rung, keeping himself entirely concealed inside the shaft. Below he could see only a small square of the stone floor, lit by a sickly orange-yellow glow. From the ladder he couldn’t tell what, or who, might be down there.

Closing his eyes, Ryder tried to listen. The wind coming in through the passage above him whistled lightly as it came through the rungs, making it impossible for him to hear anything.

Knowing that he didn’t have any other choice, Ryder let go of the ladder and dropped into the passage below, grabbing the end of his enchanted chain as he came down in a crouch on the flagstones.

“Who goes there? Show yourself—”

Ryder’s falling from the ceiling had startled an unarmed man wearing an apron. He was holding a large wheel of cheese in both arms. He cast his gaze back and forth in Ryder’s general direction, but it was clear the man didn’t see him.

Creeping quietly to his left, Ryder pulled his chain off his hip. The scared servant paced sideways, turning his head this way and that trying to follow the sounds.

“Show yourself,” the man shouted again.

It was dark in the passage. The walls were lined with wooden shelves stacked high with mold-covered cheese and big slabs of salted beef.

Stepping behind the confused servant, Ryder flipped his wrist, flinging the end of his chain. The links of the enchanted weapon wrapped around the man’s legs, and Ryder yanked it back just as he turned visible again.

The apron-wearing man yowled in surprise and tumbled flat onto his chest, the wheel of cheese breaking his fall.

Ryder took a step forward, and with the slack in the chain he hurled the handle of the weapon at the man’s head. The enchanted links slammed into the downed servant’s skull, knocking him out cold.

“Sorry about that,” said Ryder, frowning. He looked down at the growing red lump on the man’s head. “Nothing a little rest won’t fix.”

Unhitching his chain from the man’s leg, Ryder scanned the hallway. Lit by two small torches, the stone passage led off in both directions. This was likely a service corridor, used by servants to travel across the Hold without getting in the way of the guards.

Ryder listened down both ways, hoping that no one heard the yelp the man had let out. Then, convinced as he could be that he hadn’t abandoned his stealth, he turned to his left, grabbed a torch from a sconce in the wall, and set off down the hall.

The passage led down and around the corner. There were no windows or doors, only long, narrow brick walls lined with foodstuffs and old pots. Ryder traveled on for some time, encountering no one on his way.

Eventually he came to a set of wooden stairs, leading down into a wider, well-lit hallway. From up above, it looked like the floor was covered in a fancy, woven rug.

He’d found his way in.

Extinguishing the torch, Ryder quietly made his way down the stairs. This hallway was much larger than the one he’d just come from. The walls were covered with oil-painting portraits of preposterously dressed men and women. Each one was illuminated by a softly glowing mage-lit stone that cast a warm glow over the rather stark, uninterested faces of those in the pictures.

On his left, a wooden rail guarded the edge of the floor that dropped off into darkness below. Ryder moved over to look three flights down into what appeared to be an entry hall. There were empty suits of armor, artwork, and statues all over the place. Above him there were two more floors.

Turning away from the edge, Ryder quietly made his way down the deserted hall and around the corner to a set of stairs leading up to the next level.

“If I were a baron, I’d live on the top floor,” he said, and he headed up.

At the top of the final flight of stairs, Ryder encountered a set of double doors. The dark wood was polished to a high shine, and the ornate brass doorknobs sparkled dimly in the low magelight. A pair of halberd-toting guards stood at attention beside them, one on each side.

It had taken him the better part of the night to sneak through Zerith Hold to this point. Other than one oblivious random patrol, there had been no sign of guards on any of the doors. Whatever was behind that door was more important than anything in the other rooms. Ryder was betting it was the baron.

Gripping the end of his chain, Ryder readied himself, then charged out of the shadows. The spikes of his chain lit up as he brought it down around one of the surprised guards’ hands.

Pulling the chain tight, Ryder ripped the halberd from the soldier’s grip and sent it clattering down the stairs.

The guard’s eyes went wide, and he started fishing around on his belt for his sword. The other guard managed to get his halberd pointed at Ryder, but that was all. The spiked chain slammed into the soldier’s face, discharging its electrical fire and sending a tremendous jolt through the man’s body. Before the man could recover, Ryder was on him again. He pulled the guard’s legs out from under him and smashed the other end of the chain into his chest. The soldier’s body jumped from the impact. He let out a muffled cry and slumped back.

Ryder turned his attention back to the disarmed guard. He was visibly frightened, trying to get his blade out of its sheath but having a hard time because his hands were shaking.

“Intruder!” shouted the man, his voice wobbling.

The end of Ryder’s spiked chain clocked the man in the head and wrapped itself around his neck. With a quick flick of Ryder’s wrist, the guard was pulled from his feet and sent tumbling down the stairs.

With stealth no longer an option, Ryder grabbed hold of the knob and shoved his shoulder against the door. It opened, and the master of chains stepped though to the other side.

Even lit as dimly as it was, Ryder could tell right away that he’d come to the right place. The room was opulently decorated. Bookshelves lined the walls, and the center of the room was dominated by little clusters of chairs, couches, and tables. It looked like the kind of place a baron would count his money and plot how he was going to get more.

On the far side were a series of medium windows that looked out on the harbor and the Deepwash. In the low light, Ryder could just make out two figures standing beside a closed door on the other side of the room—more guards. They already had their swords drawn, no doubt alerted by the shouting outside.

Ryder swung his chain at his side. It glowed purple and blue, painting everything in the room the color of bruised flesh.

The guards split up, swinging around to try to flank Ryder.

“Drop your weapon and stay still, or we will use deadly force,” said one of the men.

“I wish I could give you the same option,” said Ryder, “but in the name of the Crimson Awl, your lives are forfeit.” Taking two steps, he lunged at the guard closest to him, extending his crackling chain to its full length and reaching over a couch to strike at the man’s helmet.

The guard’s blade intercepted the chain, batting it harmlessly to one side. “Dear Ilmater,” said the man. “Ryder. Is that you?”

The low mage stones in the room flared, banishing the shadows and bringing the guards into stark view.

Ryder felt the pit of his stomach drop to the floor. “Liam.”

Liam stared across the room at his dead brother. “I watched you die,” he said, not lowering his sword. “You’re dead. I saw it with my own eyes.”

“Liam, what are you doing here? Are you lying in wait for Purdun?” He pointed at Knoblauch. “Is this man also with the Awl?”

Liam took a deep breath. “Not exactly.” Behind Ryder he could see Knoblauch still creeping around to flank his brother. “What… ? How … ?” He didn’t even know what questions to ask.

Images flashed through his head. The day of the ambush. His meetings with Purdun. The events that had lead him to the moment where he stood on guard against his own brother.

“Liam,” said Ryder, keeping one eye on Knoblauch, “I’m here to assassinate Purdun. Help me get in, and let’s get out of here.”

Knoblauch launched himself over a chair at Ryder’s back. But the master of chains was fast. Dodging the oncoming blade, Ryder brought his chain up in time to catch the guardsman on the back of his leg, tearing several of the metal plates out of his splint mail and sending the veteran sprawling against the couch.

“Stop!” shouted Liam. “Just stop, everyone.” He needed a moment to get everything clear in his head.

Ryder took a step back, his eyes darting back and forth between Knoblauch and Liam. “What’s going on here?” he glared at his brother. “Liam! It’s me, Ryder. Your brother.”

“This is your brother?” said Knoblauch as he got to his feet.

Liam nodded, holding his hand up to stay Knoblauch while he got everything straight in his head. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “Yes.”

“Liam, we don’t have much time. There will be guardsmen here any moment.”

Liam lowered his sword. “There are guardsmen here already.”

Ryder looked at Knoblauch. “But there are two of us. Surely we can take this one.”

Liam shook his head. “I’m also in Purdun’s elite guard.”

Ryder’s face dropped. “What?”

“I am an elite guard,” repeated Liam, not able to look at his brother.

Ryder’s eyes narrowed. “You sold out?” He shook his head. “How could you?”

“It’s not what you think,” pleaded Liam. But even as he said it, the words felt hollow on his tongue.

“No?” said Ryder, making a show out of looking around the room. “So you’re working both sides?” He made a move toward Knoblauch, launching his spiked chain at the veteran.

“Stop,” shouted Liam, reacting to his brother attacking his friend.

Knoblauch batted it aside with seemingly little effort. But Liam could tell by the look on Ryder’s face that his brother hadn’t really tried to hit the veteran. It had been a test—just like when they were young.