Ryder thought back on all of Lord Purdun's guards he'd faced in hand to hand combat. Many of them had died by his hand. "Did he deserve it?"
Nazeem only nodded.
More or less, Nazeem's story was the same as Ryder's. He'd been thrown out of his home for committing what the baron considered to be a crime. Ryder didn't see his actions as criminal. They were necessary. They were the means of a revolutionary. If his oppressor was going to slowly kill the citizens by taking their food and taxing their wages, then he would respond by killing them back.
The caravan came to a U-shaped bend in the road. The path led up north, farther into the mountains. The south side of the curve was defined by a forest of tall, prickly trees, each standing thirty or more feet tall. A pair of Broken Spear warriors stood in front of the trees, holding back the branches and ushering people single file through to the other side.
Nazeem went first. Ryder ducked his head and followed him through the foliage. There were several rows of these trees, and their branches were covered with long, needle-sharp thorns. At each new row of trees, another pair of Broken Spear warriors stood holding back the branches. The treacherous tunnel was difficult to navigate, made doubly so by Ryder's limp, beaten body. More than once he felt his flesh tear as it caught on the thorns.
As Ryder finally came out of the trees to stand next to Nazeem, he straightened his back and found himself looking up at a huge multitiered stone palace, seemingly carved right into the side of the mountain.
"Gods," said Ryder under his breath.
"Giants," corrected a voice.
Ryder turned to see the young robed bandit leader standing beside him and Nazeem.
"Welcome to Fairhaven." The robed leader pulled down the mask that covered his head, revealing long dark hair, mocha skin, and a smooth, hairless face. The leader of the bandits wasn't a boy. "I'm Giselle."
She extended her hand in greeting.
Ryder looked at Nazeem, then back at the lithe woman standing before him. There were women in the Crimson Awl. He'd fought beside them on many occasions. But none of them looked like Giselle. She was beautiful, and her eyes had a keen sharpness to them. It made Ryder feel as if she could anticipate his thoughts. The combination of these two things was so powerful that Ryder was at a loss for words.
She cocked her head to one side, looking from one man to the other. "Are you unfamiliar with this custom?" She reached out and took Ryder's hand in hers, shaking it up and down. "Taking a proffered hand is a show of greetings and friendship."
"Uh, yes, of course," said Ryder, stuttering a bit. "I'm Ryder."
Giselle smiled. "Nice to meet you, Ryder." She let go of his hand and offered hers to Nazeem.
The Chultan took it and bowed his head. "They call me Nazeem."
"A pleasure," said Giselle. She turned to face the huge spiraling stone stairs that led up into the palace in front of them. "This used to be the home of a powerful stone giant clan. But it's abandoned now, so the Broken Spear call it home." She turned and headed for the huge, four-foot-tall steps.
Giselle put her fingers to her lips and let out a rolling whistle, as Ryder had seen her do after the battle on the plain. From high above came a response-a similar whistle but much lower pitched. A rope appeared from the second level of the palace, with something dangling from it. As it came closer to the ground, Ryder realized that the something was actually a pair of small ladders.
Giselle stepped forward and took them off the rope, then gave it a quick tug. The rope shot back up into the sky.
"Come," she said, waving for them to follow. "It's not much farther." Placing the first ladder against the stone, she climbed to the next step.
Chapter 11
Liam drifted in and out of consciousness. The only hint that time was passing in the dark, foul-smelling dungeon was the slow drip of water, the occasional exploratory scratching of the rodents, and the rumbling of his empty stomach. He'd been down in the dungeon for what must have been several days. To Liam, it felt like more than a month. His arms and legs were chained to the wall, and though he had enough slack to move around, there was nowhere for him to go. Even if there were, the room was in complete darkness.
So Liam had taken to sitting on the floor against the wall, trying to sleep just to pass the time. With no light and consumed by absolute boredom, it wasn't hard to drift off into blissful nothingness. But it was difficult to stay there.
The hard stone was cold and it dug into his flesh. He would wake up what seemed like every few moments with a new pain in his neck or side or back. And he would shiver.
From time to time, one of the rodents would become emboldened and try to take a nibble out of him. They didn't bite hard at first, just testing to see if he tasted good. But a couple of times he was brought kicking out of his disoriented slumber by a sharp pain and the sound of squealing as the creature who had tasted his flesh was booted and went flying across the cell.
During the times when sleep did not come to him, Liam thought about Ryder. He missed his brother. More than anything, he just wished he could see him one last time, spend one more evening at the Broken Flagon Inn drinking mead and reminiscing over their childhood. He had never contemplated a life without Ryder, and now that it was here he didn't know what to do. He felt as though in the two months since his brother's death, he'd been simply drifting. Life had happened to him. He had no control, and he didn't want any. To have control meant that he knew where he wanted to go. But he didn't.
It hurt to think about his brother and the fact that he was gone. But it hurt more to think about the day when that pain would drift away. He didn't ever want to stop grieving for Ryder. That aching was all that he had left, and if he couldn't have Ryder back, then he would hang on to that pain forever if he could.
After a time sitting in the darkness, his thoughts wandered, and he must have dozed off again. The sound of the bolt sliding startled him awake. The next thing he knew the door to his cell was opening, and a blinding light filled his vision. He held up his arm to block it. His eyes burned and watered as he peered around the back of his hand to see Captain Beetlestone and a pair of guardsmen, each holding a torch, step through the threshold.
"You have visitors," said Beetlestone. The captain leaned down and unlocked the chains that held Liam to the stone wall. "Get up."
Liam rolled to one side and lifted himself off the ground. It was harder than he imagined it would be. His legs were sluggish, and his joints complained at the effort.
"How long have I been down here?" asked Liam, struggling.
"More than a tenday," said Beetlestone. The captain grabbed Liam under the arms and helped him get to his feet.
Liam wobbled a bit, his legs tingling and numb.
"Here," said Beetlestone, handing Liam a small package wrapped in a handkerchief.
Liam, transferring his weight back and forth between his legs in an attempt to get feeling back in them, grabbed hold of the package and unwrapped it. Inside, he found a whole loaf of country bread. He didn't waste any time in tearing into the crusty loaf and shoving large bites into his mouth. The hunger pangs were just another constant reminder of how messed up Liam's life had become. He filed them next to his sorrow and his aching body. But now that he had food, his empty stomach became all he could think about. He devoured the bread in great bites.
"Slow down," warned Beetlestone. "If you keep eating at that rate, it'll come right back up."
His mouth full, Liam stopped chewing and took in a big breath through his nose. He finished the bite and swallowed. "So, who wants to see me?"