Morgan Rice - A Clash of Honor

Erec was disgusted by this man, but he wanted information, and didn’t want to waste time, so he reached into his pouch and put a large gold coin in the man’s hand.

The man’s eyes opened wide as he examined it.

“King’s gold,” he observed, impressed.

He looked Erec up and down with a look of respect, and of wonder.

“Have you ridden all the way from King’s Court, then?” he asked.

“Enough,” Erec said. “I’m the one asking questions. I have paid you. Now tell me: where is the trader?”

The man licked his lips several times, then leaned in close.

“The man you seek is Erbot. He comes through once a week with a new batch of whores. He auctions them off to the highest bidder. You’ll likely find him in his den. Follow this street to the end, and his establishment lies there. But if the girl you seek is of any worth, she’s probably gone already. His whores don’t last long.”

Erec turned to go, when he felt a warm, clammy hand grab his wrist. He turned, surprised to see the innkeeper grabbing him.

“If it is whores you seek, why not try one of mine? They are just as good as his, and half the price.”

Erec sneered at the man, revolted. If he had more time, he would probably kill him, just to rid the world of a man such as he. But he summed him up, and decided he wasn’t worth the effort.

Erec shook his hand off, then leaned in close.

“Lay your hands on me again,” Erec warned, “and you will wish that you hadn’t. Now take two steps back from me before I find a nice spot for this rapier in my hand.”

The innkeeper looked down, eyes opened wide in fear, and took several steps back.

Erec turned and stormed from the room, elbowing and shoving patrons out of his way as he burst back outside and through the double doors. He had never been so disgusted by humanity.

Erec mounted his horse, which was prancing and snorting at some drunk passersby who were eyeing it-no doubt, Erec figured, to try to steal it. He wondered if they would have actually attempted it if he had not returned until a few minutes more, and he made a note to himself to tie his horse more securely at the next place. He marveled at the vice of this town. Still, his horse, Warkfin, was a hardened warhorse, and he knew that if anyone tried to steal him, he would trample them to death.

Erec kicked Warkfin, and they went charging down the narrow street, Erec doing the best he could to avoid the throngs of people. It was late in the night, yet the streets seemed to become more and more dense with humanity, people of all races mingling with each other. Several drunk patrons screamed out at him as he charged past them too quickly, but he didn’t care. He could feel Alistair within reach, and he would stop at nothing until he had her back.

The street ended in a stone wall, and the last building on the right was a leaning tavern, with white clay walls and a thatched roof, which looked as if it had seen better days. From the looks of the people going in and out, Erec sensed this was the right place.

Erec dismounted, tied his horse securely to a post, and burst through the doors. As he did, he stopped in his tracks, surprised.

The place was dimly lit, one big room, a few flickering torches on the walls, a dying fire in the fireplace in the far corner, and strewn with rugs everywhere, on which lied scores of women, scantily dressed, chained to each other and chained to the walls. They all appeared to be on drugs, and Erec could smell the opium in the air, and saw a pipe being passed around. A few well-dressed men walked through the room, kicking and nudging the feet of the women here and there, as if testing out the merchandise and deciding what to buy.

In the far corner of the room there sat a single man on a small, red velvet chair, wearing a silk robe, women chained to either side of him. Standing behind him were huge, muscular men, their faces covered in scars, taller and broader even than Erec, looking as if they would be thrilled to kill somebody.

Erec took in the scene and realized exactly what was going on: this was a sex den, these women were for hire, and that man in the corner was the kingpin, the man who had snatched Alistair, and probably snatched all of these women, too. Even now Alistair might be in this room, Erec realized.

He burst into action, frantically hurrying through the aisles of women and scanning all the faces for hers. There were several dozen women in this room, some passed out, and the room was so dim, it was hard to tell right away. He looked from face to face, walking through the rows, when suddenly a large palm smacked him in the chest.

“You pay yet?” came a gruff voice.

Erec looked up and saw a huge man standing over him, scowling down.

“You want to look at the women, you gotta pay,” the man boomed in his low voice. “Those are the rules.”

Erec sneered back at the man, feeling a hatred rising up within him, and then faster than the man could blink, he reached up and struck him with the heel of his palm, right in his esophagus.

The man gasped, eyes opened wide, then dropped to his knees, clutching his throat. Erec reached up and elbowed him in the temple, and the man fell flat on his face.

Erec walked quickly through the rows, scanning the faces desperately for Alistair, but she was nowhere in sight. She was not here.

Erec’s heart was pounding as he hurried to the far corner of the room, to the older man sitting in the corner, watching over everything.

“Have you found something you like?” asked the man. “Something you want to bid on?”

“I’m looking for a woman,” Erec began, his voice steel, trying to keep calm, “and I’m only going to say this once. She’s tall, with long blond hair and green-blue eyes. Her name is Alistair. She was taken from Savaria but a day or two ago. I’m told she was taken here. Is that true?”

The man slowly shook his head, grinning.

“The property you seek has already been sold, I’m afraid,” the man said. “A fine specimen, though. You do have good taste. Choose another, and I will give you a discount.”

Erec glowered, feeling a rage within him unlike any he’d ever felt.

“Who took her?” Erec growled.

The man smiled.

“My, you do seem fixed on this one particular slave.”

“She is not a slave,” Erec growled. “She is my wife .”

The man looked back, shocked-then suddenly threw his head back and roared with laughter.

“Your wife ! That’s a good one. Not anymore, my friend. Now she is someone else’s play thing.” Then the innkeeper’s face darkened, into an evil scowl, as he gestured to his henchmen, and added, “Now get rid of this piece of trash.”

The two muscle-bound men came forward, and with a speed that surprised Erec, they both lunged him at once, reaching out to grab his chest.

But they did not realize who they were attacking. Erec was faster than them both, sidestepping them, grabbing the wrist of one of them and bending it back until the man fell flat on his back, and then elbowing the other in the throat at the same time. Erec stepped forward and crushed the windpipe of the man on the floor, knocking him out, then leaned forward and head-butted the other one, who was grasping his throat, knocking him out, too.

The two men lay there, unconscious, and Erec stepped over their bodies and towards the innkeeper, who was now shaking his chair, eyes opened wide in fear.

Erec reached forward, grabbed the man by the hair, yanked back his head, and held a dagger to the man’s throat.

“Tell me where she is, and I might just let you live,” Erec growled.

The man stammered.

“I will tell you, but you are wasting your time,” he answered. “I sold her to a lord. He has his own force of knights and lives in his own castle. He is a very powerful man. His castle has never been breached. And beyond that, he has an entire army on reserve. He’s a very rich man-he has an army of mercenaries willing to do his bidding at any moment. Any girl he buys, he keeps. There is no way you will ever get her free. So go back to wherever it is you came from. She is gone.”