Jess Lebow: Master of Chains

With only a single glance back, the young lord continued to run. Menrick, his mentor and confidant, was dead. Purdun had enough of that tomb for a lifetime. He wanted to put the whole episode as far behind him as humanly possible.

Deep inside the crypt, Shyressa pulled her teeth from the weeping neck of the wizard. Stepping down off the dais, she lowered his limp body to the ground beside one of the stone sarcophagi. Then she picked up the discarded blade lying on the floor. Examining the hilt, she read the inscription on it.

"Well, well," said Shyressa. "Lord Purdun." A smile crossed her weathered, now magically burned lips. "I think we shall meet again one day." Turning to survey the room, she lifted her hands into the air. "Rise, my children."

A loud grinding sound filled the chamber as the stone lids on all the sarcophagi began to slide away.

1363 Dr

Ryder ran his hand over Samira's soft black hair. He felt her arms tighten around his middle.

"Don't go," she said.

He returned her squeeze. "I must."

Samira looked up at him, her beautiful blue eyes filling with tears. "Then promise me you'll return. Promise me that you're not going to get yourself killed doing something foolish."

Ryder smiled. She loved him. She loved him dearly, but knowing that only strengthened his resolve.

"I promise you, Samira, I will return to you." Though it pained him to do so, he pushed her gently away. "I will be back before nightfall." Then, grabbing his belt and sheath from the table, Ryder kissed his wife goodbye and stepped out the door into the afternoon sunshine.

"Close the bar behind me, and don't let anyone in until I get back," he said over his shoulder.

He could hear the extra-heavy crossbeam slide into place behind him as he crossed the dirt road. On the other side, Liam was leaning against a heavy tree, his arms folded on his chest.

Ryder clasped him on the arm as he approached. "You ready, little brother?"

Liam slapped the hilt of the sword dangling from his belt. "Ready."

Ryder nodded, satisfied. "Then let's go meet the others."

Liam knelt in the bushes alongside the well-traveled dirt road running west from Zerith Hold, Lord Purdun's fortress in Duhlnarim, through Furrowsrich village and out of Ahlarkham. Six other men knelt beside him, including his brother. They were waiting for a carriage that was reportedly leaving the Hold with a diplomatic letter bound for High Watcher Laxaella Bronshield, the still-mourning baroness of Tanistan. Liam and the others intended to make sure that letter never reached its destination.

Liam, Ryder, and the rest of the Crimson Awl had made significant headway in the past few months against Lord Purdun's elite guard. The last thing they needed was for Lady Bronshield to add her might to that of Purdun's. The Awl would worry about one barony at a time, starting right here at home. But to do that, they had to make sure the neighboring lords didn't broaden the scope of the fight too soon. That was why they were all here, to stop Purdun's request for aid from getting through to Tanistan.

In the near distance, Liam heard the telltale sound of horse hooves and rough wooden wheels rolling over the packed earth.

His brother must have heard it too. "This is it," said Ryder. "You all know your jobs. There should only be two guards. If we're swift about this, nobody needs to get hurt."

Liam looked over the other men. Locals, all of them. They nodded at Ryder's instructions. All of them, that is, except Kharl.

The young man, the son of a local merchant, had never been on one of the raids before. He hadn't heard a word Ryder said. His eyes were focused on the road and his right hand gripped the hilt of his long sword so tightly his knuckles were turning white. A line of sweat had started to form along the edge of his golden blond hair, and he looked a little pale. Liam could have sworn he was shaking.

Ryder must have noticed it too. "Don't worry," he said, smiling at Kharl. "You won't even have to use your sword."

Kharl nodded hesitantly. "But what if they give us trouble?"

Ryder shrugged. "Then I suppose you'll get the opportunity to use your sword after all."

Kharl shook his head. "No. I mean, what if they don't give us the letter? What do we do then?"

Jarl, a great big bear of a man with a tattoo of a mermaid on each forearm, spoke up. "We take it from them, lad."

The other men nodded their agreement.

"But…" Kharl stuttered. "But… do we…?"

Ryder put his hand on the young man's shoulder. "Kharl, I won't ask you to kill anyone in cold blood, if that's what you're asking."

Kharl nodded, his shoulders relaxing a bit.

"But if things do get out of hand, you may have to defend yourself." Ryder suddenly got serious. "If that happens, if you find yourself in the position where it's your life or his-" Ryder looked up at each of the other men, his eyes lingering on Liam a moment longer than the rest, then back at Kharl- "Then I expect you to kill that man dead. I won't be losing anyone on this raid. Is that understood?"

Kharl nodded, and the other men grunted their assent.

"Good." Ryder chuckled, and the moment of seriousness passed. "You know, Kharl, you can do me a favor."

"Really? What?"

"Your mother makes the best beef stew in all of Erlkazar. When you get back, see if you can't get her to make a pot and invite Samira and me over for dinner."

The worry on Kharl's face faded. "All right, Ryder. I'll do that."

Liam shook his head. His brother had always had a way with people. "Hey, Kharl."

The blond man leaned back to look at Liam. "Yeah?"

"I want some of that stew too."

Kharl threw his arms out wide. "You're all invited."

The sound of horses and wheels grew louder as it came around the bend, transforming into a well-appointed carriage pulled by a pair of majestic-looking horses draped in the livery of Lord Purdun. The coach wasn't in any hurry. The doors were painted with the familiar shield-and-double-crossed-sword crest that turned Liam's stomach every time he saw it. It was the official seal of Lord Purdun, the owner and master of the land on which all of Liam's family and friends lived and had to pay taxes for.

Just as Ryder had said, there were only two guards and the driver. Whoever rode inside was concealed by velvet drapes covering the windows. Liam imagined the occupant was some corpulent, bloated diplomat with a double chin and greasy fingers. Who better to deliver a letter of alliance from the bastard Lord Purdun to one of the other regional barons?

The carriage drew near, and Ryder rose onto the balls of his feet, still hidden from the road by the tall brush. He held his hands to his face and whispered to Liam, "Before you can truly move forward, you have to be willing to live with the consequences."

Then Ryder smiled and looked at the other men. "It's time to give it to old Firefist." He dropped into a deep crouch, then sprang out of the bush. "Now!" he shouted, pulling his long sword from its sheath as he came down in front of the carriage.

Liam didn't hesitate. He was the second of the eight men to reach the road and draw his weapon, taking his position beside his brother.

As Liam had expected, the horses were startled by the sudden appearance of armed men on the road. They bucked, and the driver had to struggle to keep control of them.

"Halt!" shouted Ryder, holding his palm out to the coach.

The other men leaped out of their hiding spots-two more up front, the final four behind, boxing in the coach on the packed dirt road.

The guards on top of the carriage had to hold on to the seat to avoid being tossed from their perch. But as the horses came to a stop, they stood up and drew their weapons.