The Kinshield Legacy (41 page)

Risan cracked his right eye open. Narrow shafts of light shone down through the crevices between the boards above him, illuminating particles of dust in the air. Thinking it too realistic to be a dream, he pushed himself upright on the stone floor. He should be used to waking up in a new place by now. But he wouldn’t complain; at least he’d woken up.

Risan’s left cheek throbbed and his head pounded. He licked his swollen lips and tasted dried blood. The gum where his tooth had been was tender when he touched it with his tongue. His left eye was swollen shut, the right nearly so. He tried running his fingers through his beard, and found dried blood caked there. Squinting to see in the dim light, he looked around.

Rats skittered into their hiding places, their nails scratching the floor. The cellar stank of urine and rotting food. Some old furniture lay heaped in one corner, and he stood to rummage through it, realizing then that his wrist shackles had been removed. His heart sank; no shackles meant he might starve before he escaped. Mayhap he could fashion a weapon or tool from the broken pieces of wood. He caught sight of a small blond boy, huddled on top of an old wardrobe, watching him.

“How now, young fellow,” he said, wincing at the pain in his mouth. He made an effort to sound jovial. “How do you find yourself in this cave?”

“It’s a cellar,” the boy replied quietly.

Risan looked around him with exaggerated motions. “Why, so it is. Are you prisoner here? Kidnapped like me?”

He shook his head.

“Do not tell me that wizard is your papa,” Risan said.

“No,” the boy shot back. He huddled further back on the wardrobe.

“Glad to know it. I am Risan. Who you might be?”

The boy bit his lip. “I’m not supposed to talk to strangers.”

“I am not stranger,” Risan countered. “I am Risan Stronghammer of Stronghammer Blades, maker of finest bladed weapons in all Ambryce, and husband to Arlet, loveliest woman you ever put eyes on. If I was stranger, you would not know so much about me, would you?”

The boy shook his head again, and a small smile brightened his face. “Dwaeth.”

Risan stood on the chair beside the wardrobe and offered his hand. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, young Dwaeth.“ The boy put his small, soft hand in Risan’s. ”Do not mind my new face. I am sure it is not as handsome as one I came here wearing. This one is compliments of our host, Mr. Ravenkind. Is he friend of yours?”

“He said he’s my uncle,” Dwaeth whispered. “He sent my mother away and he won’t tell me where she is.” He began to cry.

“Now, now,” Risan said. He crawled up onto the wardrobe with the boy, not much smaller than he was, and put his arm around Dwaeth’s shoulders. “When I figure out way to get out of here, I will help you find your mother.”

The boy slept fitfully in Risan’s arms. It was all Risan could do to sit still, so sore was his bottom from sitting for hours atop the wardrobe. He was all this child had now, and a few moments of discomfort would do an old Farthan no harm. He licked his swollen, scab-covered lips and drained the last drop of water from his dented tin cup.

A rattling sound from the top of the stairs announced a visitor. The door opened, and a pair of footsteps descended the top few stairs.

“Dwaeth.” Ravenkind’s voice. “Come upstairs.”

Dwaeth jerked to wakefulness and blinked.

“Come upstairs. I have a surprise for you, Dwaeth.”

“Mama?” the boy asked, sitting taller. He looked to Risan as if for confirmation.

“Do not hope for too much. Go. You do not want to anger Lord Ravenkind. I will help you down.” He climbed down from the wardrobe and opened his arms to the young boy. He lifted Dwaeth and set him gently on the floor.

“Dwaeth, don’t keep me waiting,” Brodas called.

Dwaeth took a few steps and turned, looking back at Risan with a quivering chin. “I don’t want to. I want to stay here with you.”

Risan knew the boy would be better off going upstairs than witnessing whatever cruelty or execution Ravenkind had in store for Risan. “You will be fine,” he said. “Just do what he tells you.”

“But what about you?”

“Crusty old Farthan like me cannot be hurt so easy. You do not worry about Risan.” He gave the boy a hug. “Be brave.”

He watched Dwaeth go to the stairs and climb slowly up. With every footstep, Risan felt his heart breaking a little more.

His own son hadn’t been much older than this boy, taken by the plague that had swept through the province twelve years earlier. Risan and Arlet had prayed to Yrys night and day, sacrificed everything but the clothes on their backs, but none of it had helped.
If you are listening now, Yrys, please keep Dwaeth safe.

Warrick came down first, armed with his sword. Risan made no move to attack. Warrick motioned with his hand. Another set of footsteps started down the stairs.

“Now, then,” Brodas said. “Since the sword won’t let me use its gems against you directly, we have to do this the old fashioned way.” The cold look in Brodas’s eyes made Risan shudder.

Warrick handed his sword and the knife at his hip to Brodas, and then advanced on Risan.

Risan feinted one way and dived the opposite. Warrick lunged after him. Risan tried to slip the battler’s grasp, but his tunic was caught in a powerful vice. 

Warrick shoved Risan to the table, wrestled his left arm behind his back and forced his right hand onto the table. He held it there by the wrist. Brodas swept the crumbs aside and splayed Risan’s fingers on the table.

A black eye would fade. Even a lost tooth was not so terrible. But now the monster was going to dismember him. Risan started to tremble.

“It would be a shame for you to lose your livelihood over something so easy to prevent,” Brodas said. “Tell me who you made the sword for.”

Risan’s heart pounded. He feared the pain, yes he did, but more than that, he feared this man becoming king. “Go to hell.”

Brodas lay the blade of Warrick’s knife against the little finger on Risan’s right hand. With one swift motion, he lifted the knife handle and rocked the blade down. It severed Risan’s finger where it joined his hand.

“Aaaagh!” The pain was searing at first, but it faded quickly leaving a sharp numbness behind. Brodas healed the wound instantly.

“We don’t want you to bleed to death.”

Risan shut his eyes and concentrated on slowing his heart and calming the ache.

“Who did you make the sword for?”

Risan opened his mouth to answer, then paused. It would be so easy to believe that with just two words he would be on his way home to Arlet: Gavin Kinshield. Brodas leaned closer to hear the name. “Yrys smite you,” Risan whispered.

“I imagine a blacksmith can still make weapons with one finger missing or even two, but at what point does a hand become useless?” Brodas asked. “When is a hand not truly a hand?”

The knife came down again, severing his ring finger.

The pain was greater this time. Risan’s mouth watered and his head swam. His legs crumbled beneath him.

Chapter 48

As dusk deepened into night and Gavin, Daia and Brawna made their way toward Lalorian, Gavin saw Daia glance repeatedly skyward. He grinned, but he wouldn’t tease her in front of Brawna. He had enough on his mind anyway, knowing that the time to face Brodas drew near. Even with a squad of experienced warriors, Gavin didn’t hold much hope of surviving the fight, but he would rather be killed in battle trying to keep Brodas off the throne than to live under the wizard’s rule.

Brawna’s arms started to relax around his waist, and she leaned into his back. He clutched her wrists in his hand to keep her from tumbling off Golam’s back in sleep.

“Why wouldn’t Ravenkind have killed her?” Daia asked quietly.

“He prob’ly thinks she knows somethin’ useful. Or he wants to use her as leverage against someone.”

Daia gasped. “Domach. Brawna’s Domach’s sister.”

“Oh, damn. Hidegild. Only it isn’t his own hide Demonshredder has to pay for.“

“You said Ravenkind killed your family. Tell me about him.”

Gavin should have kept his damned mouth shut. But he supposed he had to tell her sooner or later. He took a deep breath. “After I got my warrant tag, work was hard to find. Employers who wanted to pay cheap hired battlers without a warrant. The ones who wanted experience didn’t hire the newly warranted. I was barely earning enough to feed my family, and Talisha, my wife, was pregnant with our second child. Ravenkind promised a great reward for the recovery o’the Star Fire Gem. Gemsmiths said it would give a wizard unimaginable power.”

“I heard a story about that. Didn’t someone throw it into the sea?”

Gavin nodded. “Yeh. I hunted it down, and as I was going to his house to deliver it, I glimpsed the gem’s power. Even someone like me, with no magic ability, could use it to... ride along with another person. See through his eyes, hear what he hears. And I heard Ravenkind tell his cousin Warrick how he planned to use it against the Lordover Lalorian to seize control of the city. So I took it to the Bay o’Hope and threw it as far as I could.”

“How did Ravenkind find out?”

Gavin snorted. “I told him,” he said. “Too immature and cocksure to think anyone could best me in battle. What could he do, send his puppet-cousin after me? Then I learned that his idea o’revenge is hurting people you love.” He hoped Daia could imagine the rest and he wouldn’t have to relive the nightmare through its retelling.

“What happened?” she asked in a low voice.

Gavin sat at the kitchen table with Caevyan on his lap. He reached around her to lace and tie her shoe.

“Papa, can we go to the market for a sugar nut?” Her little hand touched his face, turning it toward hers.

Someone knocked at the front door. “I’ll answer it,” Talisha called from the bedroom.

“Let’s see if Mama wants to come too,” Gavin said. He kissed his daughter’s nose and pressed his prickly cheek against her neck. She laughed her cherubic music and pushed at his face. He pretended to nibble on her neck and ear. “Mmm! Who needs sugar nuts?”

“Gavin?” Talisha called, her voice thick with urgency.

He stood and sat Caevyan on the chair. “Stay here,” he said, pointing a parental finger.

Brodas Ravenkind stood in the great room, an artificial smile on his face.

Unarmed, Gavin lunged forward leading with a punch, pushing Talisha behind him. Brodas darted to the side. Gavin’s fist hit the door, blowing it apart with a thunderous boom.

Talisha screamed.

“Papa?” Caevyan called behind him.

“Take her! Run!” Gavin yelled at his wife. She turned obediently and waddled toward their daughter.

Gavin swung a hook and connected with the wizard’s temple. A chilly sensation shot up his arm and down his body. The feeling of pins pricking his body raced after it, enveloping him. The floor rose to meet him, flattening him with a thud.

He tried to push himself up, but his arms flopped uselessly against the wood floor. The unseen pins engulfed him, tingling where his face pressed against the floor.

He watched in horror as Brodas strolled into the kitchen. Something slammed into the cupboard, followed by the crash of dishes breaking. “No! Please, no!“ Talisha cried. Gavin couldn’t see what was happening. He tried again to get up, but couldn’t feel his arms or legs.