The Order Returns (The Chain Breaker Book 6)

  The Order Returns

  The Chain Breaker Book 6

  D.K. Holmberg

  Copyright © 2021 by D.K. Holmberg

  Cover by Damonza.com

  All rights reserved.

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  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Author’s Note

  Series by D.K. Holmberg

  Chapter One

  Early morning wasn’t the best time to fight.

  Gavin darted to the side with the El’aras sword clutched in his hands, trying to keep the blade in front of him, wanting to hold it with a light grip and not squeeze it too tightly. He needed to improve his sword work, so he focused only on those techniques and not at all on his core reserves.

  The air whistled near him.

  Gavin twisted, spinning, and the shadowy form of his attacker made it difficult to move beyond the nearest tree. He used the trees as protection, though for him to test himself fully, he really should be out in the open.

  He cursed to himself. Why did he have to do everything the hard way?

  Gavin ran forward, putting himself into the small clearing on the edge of the forest. He turned, his steps light, focusing on one particular style of fighting. He had to use the Leier patterns—it was the reason he had come out here this early in the morning, and why he used the sword rather than any of his other, better-trained techniques. And it was the reason he didn’t use his core reserves.

  As the lithe form of his attacker emerged from the trees, Gavin braced himself.

  Imogen danced in a deadly series of movements. Each time he tested himself against her, he came to have a new appreciation for her skill. The first time he had sparred with her, he had recognized her talent. At that time, he had thought her merely an incredibly gifted sword fighter. That was, until he learned she had been holding back, much like he’d been.

  Now she didn’t.

  There was something almost languid about the way she moved, and Gavin couldn’t quite place it. He tried to piece the series of movements she made together in his mind so he could recognize her pattern, the way he’d recognized so many patterns over the years. It was how Tristan had trained him to fight. See a pattern, replicate it, and be prepared to take on your enemy once again.

  It should be straightforward.

  Ever since he had begun to master his abilities, it had been straightforward. There were few fighting styles that took Gavin long to assess their benefits and weaknesses, modify them to fit his own strengths, and then use them.

  The Leier style was no different.

  Or it hadn’t been.

  Imogen glided toward him. It was the only way he could describe it. She almost seemed as if she was flowing across the ground, like some stream that cut across the forest floor and carried her toward him.

  He was forced to twist, and he was almost a moment too late. He brought his sword up and blocked, and his blade clanged off her slender one.

  Gavin leapt back, and Imogen kept pressing forward. She was on the attack again—as she often was. She continued gliding toward him, and he had to spin, sweeping his blade in a series of movements that put him at a disadvantage. He danced around the clearing, forcing himself to avoid using his core reserves. He was here to improve his patterns.

  She shifted her movements. With a surprising burst of speed, she streaked toward him like a lightning bolt.

  Gavin did all he could to deflect the blow, bringing his own blade around. Instinct honed over decades of fighting helped him block her blade, but even then it still nearly cut through his arm.

  He jumped back again, and she shifted once more. Her blade swirled over her head, but it was her feet that he knew to watch. They would tell him where she was going to move.

  She didn’t say anything as they fought, which made her all the more dangerous. All the more deadly.

  When she started forward again, it was in another gliding sort of movement that flowed toward him. Gavin swung his blade, attempting to block, but this time he was not quick enough.

  He ducked and rolled out of the way, bringing his sword up at the last possible moment and pushing outward. He abandoned the Leier style, letting it go and focusing instead on a more rigid, blunted technique.

  Imogen paused. Her blade hovered in mid-stroke, and she looked at him with a flash of disappointment in her eyes that seemed to swallow the shadows. There were times when Gavin thought her eyes were so dark, they were almost purple.

  “That wasn’t why I came out here,” she snapped.

  Gavin took a deep breath. “I know, but I would like to keep my arm.”

  “Then do better,” she said.

  “Your fighting style has shifted,” Gavin said.

  She regarded him for a long moment, and he wondered if she would keep the secret of what she was doing to herself, but didn’t know that it mattered. The expectation was that he would watch the way she fought, and he would use his skill to replicate her technique as much as possible.

  “Haven’t you told me you’re the master of all styles?” she taunted.

  “I don’t think I ever claimed to be a master of all styles. Only that I could master all styles.”

  She glowered at him. “Then this should be easy for you.”

  Imogen glided back, her blade twisting again, and she waited.

  Gavin had to focus.

  She started forward. He followed the pattern of her movement, watching, but doing nothing else. If he could identify the key to the pattern, he would know what he needed to do next. The problem was that he could not tell anything within that pattern. Not easily. The only thing he could see was that it seemed to be unpredictable, and yet effective.

  He had to defend using a series of movements he had perfected from the other Leier patterns she had demonstrated before. Each time he blocked, Gavin felt as if some part of him was delayed. There remained the temptation to summon his core reserves so he could handle her more effectively, but he viewed that as an unfair advantage.

  He twisted and then jabbed forward, driving the blade toward her. He managed to catch her off guard, or so he thought.

  She simply rotated, flowing in a way that avoided his attack.

  He darted back and was nearly startled by her sudden surge.

  When she came at him, he brought his blade forward as if to defend himself with a simple parry, but at the last second, Gavin used a series of movements reminiscent of her style, though not with the same casual grace she demonstrated.

  She retreated, pausing for a moment and gathering herself, and then when she came toward him this time, there was something
more pronounced about it. Faster. More violent.

  He reacted by twisting his sword, and tried to jab at her, but she remained elusive. She pressed him with movements so fast, so controlled, so fluid that he felt almost rigid in contrast.

  That was the part of her patterns he needed to mimic. There were plenty of hand-fighting styles that carried a certain fluidity to them, which was what he had to imitate now.

  Only, in this case, it wasn’t a matter of mimicking it. It was a matter of recognizing that, despite her seemingly casual nature, there was something quite structured to what she was doing.

  Gavin started to shift, letting that fluidity course through him.

  Then he saw it.

  The structure came to him.

  He flowed forward. That was the only way he could describe it. For the first time, it seemed as if Imogen was faltering.

  Gavin mirrored her technique. When she came at him, again like a stream across the forest floor, he did the same. His blade met hers, and he flowed like she did. Not quite the same, since she remained more controlled, but he suspected with time he could match it.

  When Imogen shifted, swirling her blade overhead, he did the same.

  When she darted toward him—

  Gavin still wasn’t prepared for that.

  He forced his hands down, blocking.

  She stepped back, brought her blade up, and bowed slightly.

  “Do you know how long it took me to master this style?” Imogen said, her voice quiet.

  “I imagine many years,” Gavin said.

  “And you accomplished it in a matter of moments.”

  He sheathed his blade. He had the sense that their sparring was done.

  “Not a matter of moments,” he said. “Well, maybe, but a matter of small moments over a lifetime spent training. All fighting styles have certain elements in common, and I’ve learned to synthesize them and find similarities. Yours was more challenging than most.” It might be the most challenging, he realized. “But there is another style of hand-to-hand combat that is similar enough that I could follow it.” He tipped his head in a bow. “I suspect you could take on other styles if you wanted to. Your skill is greater than anybody else I’ve ever encountered.”

  Without magic, he didn’t say. And he didn’t need to.

  Imogen sheathed her blade in a flurry. “I have yet to master my own patterns,” she said.

  Gavin frowned. “You haven’t yet?”

  She clenched her jaw, leaving him to wonder whether she would reveal more to him. Imogen was a secretive person, but they had come to share a mutual respect for each other. In the time he’d been in Yoran, Gavin had learned more about her, especially recently.

  “Those with the most potential in my land are offered an opportunity to train with one of the true masters.”

  “I suspect you were given that opportunity?” he asked.

  If she wasn’t, and if there were others with even more skill than her, Gavin might need to go to the Leier homeland to learn. How could he not want to better understand that fighting style?

  “I was given the opportunity. The honor. And I squandered it.” She shook her head. “There are times when I wonder what I might have learned had I stayed.”

  “You can always return.”

  She breathed out slowly. “Perhaps. Now that my quest has been completed, I have been trying to figure out what I must do.”

  “What do your people usually do when their quests are complete?”

  “Find another.”

  The way she said it suggested that there was more to it than that, but her tone also told him he should not push further. Besides, Gavin didn’t want to anger Imogen.

  “Does Gaspar know?” he asked.

  “When we first started working together, Gaspar knew I had to complete my bond quest. Then it became difficult. Far too difficult…”

  Her voice trailed off as she seemed lost in thought. Then she continued. “We knew the keystone was in the city, but there was so much magic here, so much minor magic, it was difficult for us to find. After a while, I started to think that perhaps I would never complete my quest.” She looked up at him. “There are many from my homeland who never do. They consider it their service to the Leier.”

  “How many complete their quest?”

  Her brow twitched for a moment, and he realized he had gotten to the meat of her concern.

  “Very few,” she said softly.

  Gavin debated what to say to her next. He wanted to choose his words carefully, especially as she deserved that from him. But he never had the chance.

  A sudden cold washed over him.

  He looked up, toward the north.

  “That was magic,” he said. “Not in the city, but it’s considerable.”

  Gavin reached into a pouch he carried, grabbed one of the stone golems inside, and tapped on it with a hint of his core reserves to activate it. The enchantment began to stretch, forming a stone wolf.

  He glanced over to Imogen. “I could use help.”

  For a moment, the conflicted expression on her face lingered, but then it faded. She grabbed her own stone enchantment, a tiger, and with a quick flick of her wrist, the enchantment stretched and grew until it took on its full size. She scrambled onto the tiger’s back.

  Without a word, they started north.

  The forest bordered the western edge of Yoran, the massive trees rising high around them, towering above. Were Gavin to continue to head west, it would take him into the El’aras lands, beyond any place he had ever traveled. It was a wonder that he had never ventured into those lands during his training with Tristan. There were times when he had come close. He thought about when he had been asked to go after the Toral ring, and how that had brought him closer to power—specifically, El’aras power—but he had never journeyed fully into their lands. Maybe that was the reason he felt so reluctant to do so now.

  The stone wolf carried him through the forest, then out of the trees. The landscape beyond, which surrounded the rest of Yoran, was a flowing, grassy hillside. There were occasional trees, but none with nearly the same height or sense of foreboding he had from within the forest. The wind picked up now that he was out of the trees, carrying a crispness to it. It lost some of the earthy odor, that of dampness, decay, and a sweetness that Gavin could never quite place, and replaced it with a hint of spice that drifted on the cool air.

  A sudden wash of cold came to him again.

  Magic, but from where?

  He raced atop the stone wolf, Imogen alongside him, neither of them speaking. He wasn’t sure what he detected, only that something was there.

  They topped another small rise, continuing their journey north. They weren’t all that far from the city, but the stone golem moved quickly, faster than any horse could. Gavin supposed he could reach for the paper dragon he had on him, but that was far more noticeable. Until he knew what they were dealing with, he would prefer anonymity.

  Down below he caught sight of three creatures with riders, paused on the roadside. They weren’t horses—enchantments, more likely, but they didn’t look anything like the stone enchantments he and Imogen used.

  The riders were all dressed in deep crimson robes, and they faced Yoran.

  Another sense of cold washed over him.

  “Sorcery,” Imogen breathed out softly.

  “They’re from the Society,” Gavin said.

  He and Imogen were out in the open. There was no point in concealing their presence now. He twisted the stone ring around his finger, debating whether to call on the power within it. Anything he used through the ring would be uncontrolled and possibly destructive, but it would demonstrate magic. When dealing with the Society, he had learned that they only responded to force.

  A fourth burst of cold.

  One of the sorcerers moved their hand in a strange pattern. Gavin braced himself, immediately calling upon his core reserves and filling himself with that power.

  He was ready when the atta
ck struck, which was like a snake that spiraled around him, or a series of ropes that threatened to hold him.

  “Really?” Gavin muttered.

  As soon as the magic began to surround him, he pushed outward with his core reserves, and he exploded energy beyond him. That was an easy power to break past. Perhaps it would’ve been far more challenging for him before, but knowing he could cut through magic made it easier for him now.

  Imogen jumped from the stone tiger, her blade unsheathed, and moved in her slow, flowing movement. When the sorcerer turned his attention to her, she slipped off to the side, sweeping her blade down.

  The movement disrupted his pattern.

  Gavin wasn’t sure how he knew that, only that he could feel the disruption. In the time he had come to learn about his own magic, he had also realized that there were other aspects of magic that he continued to discover.

  And this was one more.

  He maintained his hold on his core reserves, knowing that if he did not, he would run the risk of these sorcerers constricting it.

  “What do you think they’re after?” he asked, but Imogen was silent.

  If these sorcerers were with the Fates, they would know that Gavin was in the city—unless it was all some plan to remove him from Yoran. He wouldn’t put it past the Fates to do that.

  He twisted the ring on his finger. Power flowed within him.

  The three sorcerers formed a half circle, and this time, they formed a pattern together. As that power began to build, Gavin braced himself.

  Imogen looked as if she wanted to race forward.

  “Not yet,” he said. “If they’re with the Fates, I don’t want them to know what you can do and how you can disrupt them.” She frowned at him for a moment, then she nodded. “Just be ready.”