“You told me I should be careful with it.”
“You should be careful with it unless you are suffering. There are times when drawing upon your core strength is critical. Not only for your survival but for the survival of others who might be depending upon you.”
“What happens if I overuse it?”
“Don’t,” Tristan said.
“I don’t know if I have enough control over it to trust not to do that.”
“I think the opposite is true. I think your experience with the others, even as weak as they are, is what makes you stronger.”
Gavin took a step toward Tristan and nearly staggered. The strength within him started to fade again. As he tried to reach for Tristan, he fell, stumbling forward.
Tristan was at his side, and rather than trying to harm Gavin, he instead lifted his student. “Perhaps I was a bit too harsh,” he whispered.
“What was too harsh?”
“The beating after you broke free.”
“I thought you said that hardened me.”
“It does, but you can’t get so hardened that you don’t have a core of compassion within you.”
“Compassion?”
Tristan looked down at him, and Gavin had a hard time keeping his focus. More than that, he had a hard time thinking of his mentor as someone who had any compassion in him. Most of the time with Tristan, there was nothing but the edge. The violence. The desire to train. Gavin knew he would eventually need to be able to do what Tristan asked of him, to have the power he wanted for him. Gavin knew he would eventually need to be able to handle himself the way Tristan expected. He had no idea what Tristan was training him for, only that whatever it was had to be important.
“Just because I can be harsh doesn’t mean I lack compassion,” Tristan said. “And just because you’ve suffered doesn’t mean that you should lose your ability to hold onto that compassion.”
Gavin tried to stay awake, but he was tired—so tired. As he struggled, he started to drift, his mind starting to slip, and he drifted in and out, flashes of images coming to him before he passed out completely. When he came around, he was in his dormitory again. The dormitory where he trained and learned how to fight was a brutal place. In the considerable time he’d spent there, he’d come to think of the place as home, despite how sparse it was.
Tristan didn’t believe in decorations within the training compound and certainly no decorations within the dormitory. The only thing Gavin had was the people. There were those he trained with and those he’d come to know quite well, including Cyran.
A wall of windows was high overhead, letting in a stream of light to the main part of the dormitory, the bright sunlight hot regardless of the time of day. Gavin had learned to hate the sunlight and the heat, much like all who came here.
The other students were there, but so too were the ropes he’d broken free of. He rolled over and stared at the ropes.
Why would Tristan have brought them to me? Was it a reminder of his strength? Was it a reminder of my suffering?
Gavin never knew what the man intended.
He sat up and found the other students watching him. They looked at the ropes, and they seemed to understand. This was just another of the many times when Tristan set him apart from the rest. Gavin didn’t understand what purpose Tristan had in driving a wedge between him and the other students, but every time he thought he was getting closer with them, Tristan would do something like this. Any sort of connection Gavin had with the other students would disappear.
It was difficult to make friends, mostly because many of the other students he worked with were also his competition. He had to fight and spar with them; had to defeat them. He spent more time with some of the others who were learning different techniques, working with medicines and herbs and healing balms. Perhaps that might be something he could learn, too.
He stood and took a step, but he stumbled and fell on the ground again. One of the other students turned away from him, and Gavin tried to reach for them but couldn’t. He was tired and weak.
Why weren’t they helping me?
Because no one helped him.
He was Gavin Lorren. The Chain Breaker.
They would leave him to suffer.
He lay on the ground for a long time until one of the other students helped him by propping him up and handing him something to drink. Gavin sipped the liquid, feeling the way it burned as it went down his throat. Gradually, his strength returned, giving him a little bit more power. When he finally climbed back into the bed, he didn’t have to wait long before sleep claimed him.
Chapter Four
The inside of the Dragon was quiet. Several lanterns lit up the inside of the tavern, giving off a flickering, warm light. A crackling flame burned in the hearth, though unnecessary given the warmth of the day. The air still smelled of baking bread and roasting meats, the foods Jessica had made earlier in the day when she had more patrons. All of it felt like the Dragon.
“How sure are you that this is from the Captain?” Gavin asked, sitting at the table with Gaspar and Wrenlow.
Wrenlow held the marker in hand. He rubbed his thumb along the surface before setting it on the table and spinning it. “I’m sure. I’ve seen it a few times. With as much as he’s involved in within the city…”
“How? You haven’t left the Dragon all that often,” Gaspar said.
“I might not have nearly as much as either of you, but I’ve gone out. And I’ve seen this. I know I’ve seen it. And I do have contacts. That tells me enough about the Captain to know we need to be careful.” Wrenlow looked up at Gavin. “He’s dangerous, Gavin. Involved in all sorts of shady deals throughout the city. And he’s connected. The constables won’t even touch him.”
“What does it mean that it’s the Captain’s mark?” Gavin asked, looking over at Gaspar. “You’ve lived in the city a long time. What do you think about it?”
“Surprises me the kid recognizes it. I sure as hell didn’t,” he said, nodding toward Wrenlow. “Damn man has been the bane of the city ever since the sorcerer’s lost power.”
“I have seen it,” Wrenlow said, probably harder than he needed. “He gives them out to those who serve him.”
Gavin grabbed the marker and set it on its edge, twisting it so that it spun in place in front of him. The marker had a distinct symbol on one side; a series of circles mixed with an image of a flame. Its design was too unique to be replicated unless it was by someone who truly knew the marker.
“I don’t really want to go into the Captain’s fortress,” Gavin said.
“We couldn’t,” Gaspar said.
“Why do you say that?”
“It’s dangerous.”
“It’s only dangerous if we go in ignorant,” Wrenlow said.
“We?” Gaspar asked.
“Fine, you. Is that what you want me to say, that I’m not going to go? That I’m not nearly as critical a part of the team as you or Gavin or Imogen?” Gavin reached toward his arm, and Wrenlow shook his head. “Don’t. If you’re going to do anything, tell him off.”
Gavin looked at Gaspar. “He works just as hard as we do. His role on the team is different.”