Leybound Chapter Thirty-Seven | The Fall (Patreon)

Riot followed the path of the raging river and the scattered cracks of Leybound charges.

The first body he passed was Rife, a quiet man with lumpen, Leybound scars. He was dead. Blood had gushed out of the burned hole in his leg and pooled in the rocks.

Loic was ahead, crouched behind a rock, and Natalia appeared next to him, standing briefly to let the dirty gray charge of arcane light fly higher up the ravine before ducking for cover once more.

Her target was the ragged prisoner that had killed Riley on the road, and Riot slowed as he approached. The mangey beard was gone, and the rags had been replaced with an ill- fitting covenant uniform, but there was no mistaking him. It was the same Leybound prisoner from the farmhouse, Gerrard Price. He wasn’t hiding. In fact, he stood on the rocks above them like he was standing on the battlements of a castle. There would be no desperate charge to dislodge him, only an uphill slog to find the point of a sword or a burning charge of arcane power to the gut.

Riot threw himself down beside Loic and Natalia.

“What’s happening back there?” Natalia said, shouting to be heard over the sound of the pounding water.

“Moran and the others are holding the ridge; we have to pull back now. Is that Price?” Riot said, looking to Loic.

“Traitorous bastard.” Loic growled.

“That proof enough for you? I told you, he sold us out,” Riot retorted.

“He’s wearing their damn uniform,” Loic said, glaring up the ravine.

“I don’t give a damn if he’s painted his face and taken up embroidery; Moran and the others are holding the ridge; we’re leaving.”

Riot grabbed Loic's shoulder, and the northman turned on him, a murderous look on his face. “He needs to pay for what he did to Riley.”

“Loic, we pull back; Price can wait; he is not the mission,” Quinn insisted.

The young northman’s lip curled, and a vein throbbed on his forehead. “Price!” He bellowed.

“Loic Fitchen? I thought that was you,” Price called over the roar of the river.

“You fight for them now?” Loic shouted.

Price’s laughter floated down to them. “You know me better than that, Loic. I am a survivor. You always put too much faith in honor; I told you you had to make sacrifices to win and to survive.”

“Enough of this.” Quinn finished forming the gray charge in her cupped hands and stood, but before she could release it, she gave a cry and spun around.

Riot reached out for her, and she slapped his hand away with a curse, clamping a hand to her shoulder where the flesh was still burning.

“We can take him,” Loic growled.

“Don’t be a fool. He wants us to go up there; we go back,” she snarled.

But Loic ignored her, instead drawing ley power into his cupped hands. More ley power than Riot had seen anyone hold before. The gray light expanded as the young man drew his hands apart, his muscles corded with the strain.

“Loic, don’t be a fool,” Natalia snapped.

“You know we can’t let him get away with it, stone-eye,” Loic hissed to Riot.

Riot glanced up at the ravine where Price stood. He was taunting them; he had the high ground. But Loic was right; traitors were worse than deserters, and Price was a killer, and smart. They couldn’t leave them alive and have him follow them.

Riot drew his sword. “We go together,” he said.

“Get ready,” Loic grunted. The flaring light in his hands was a foot wide now, and his arms were shaking with the strain of holding it. There was a deep crack, like the earth had been sundered, and everything in front of them exploded in gray light.

The air was filled with the tortured sound of shredding trees, and Riot staggered forward, blinking as he fought to steady his gaze. A low-hanging branch caught him in the face, and he flopped to the floor, dazed, and hauled himself to his feet. He could hear the pounding water to his left, but there was no sign of Loic.

“You should know, Loic generally knocks himself unconscious when he does that. The power to shatter a city gate without the skill to control it.”

Price was a few yards away. His left eye was a burned, empty socket, and the skin on the left side of his face was pulled tight. It looked like someone had branded some kind of symbol into his chest, but that was nothing compared to the Faelen officer that crawled around in the undergrowth nearby. His face was a bloody ruin, and he reached out an arm that ended in a bleeding stump. “Help me,” he begged, staring around with ruined eyes.

“Who in the gods is that?” Riot replied.

“This is Tarir-del; he was going to keep me as a pet, to bring out at parties.”

Price was taking his ease, holding the sword nonchalantly. The blade was in the Faelen style, but it wasn’t like the swords most of them favored. There was no shine, no engraving. It was made of dark steel and had a grim, workmanlike appearance. “You surprised me when you activated the hedron. I hadn’t planned for that.”

“Damn thing nearly killed me. If that’s why you’re here, I don’t have it,” Riot said.

The sounds of fighting had died down in the ravine, and the Faelen would soon be there, picking their way toward them.

Price shook his head. “I’m not here for the hedron, sergeant.” He pushed the Faelen officer with his boot, so he flopped over and groaned. “I was here for him, but that’s done now.” Price raised the blade, pointing it at Riot. “But you and I have a score to settle; you took my eye.”

Riot was tired, deep into his bones, and Price looked like he knew how to use the sword. “You can come with us, Price. After what they did to you, you can say you were a prisoner."

“You think that Ritta Kerne will let me live?”

“Probably not,” Riot conceded. “Go back into the hills; disappear, the gods know you deserve it.”

“Listen to yourself. Why make bargains on their behalf? I can see the fouling on your skin. They made you Leybound and sent you out to face me, and you don’t even know why you are here.”

His words rang true. Riot had no idea why he was out here risking his neck, following orders. He’d been a fool to think that being Leybound could help him rise above his station. Nothing had changed. “If it’s not the hedron, what do you want?”

"No, Riot, nothing so easy as that. While you serve their interests, you will serve blindly. But I will give you the same offer you gave me. I will take one of your eyes and let you go to the coast and back to the city; if you are lucky you’ll make it before the ley line consumes you.”

“What about the others?”

“I will take the woman, you can keep Loic.”

"Not going to happen.”

“Then you leave me no choice.”

Price took the four steps toward Riot with such speed that Riot barely got his own blade up in time to block the blow.

“Look what they did to you, you fool,” Price said, and with a snarl, he wrenched the blade back and kicked Riot full in the stomach, doubling him over. “Killing you will be less pleasure than I had hoped; it's almost a mercy.”

Riot staggered back, and he barely managed to keep the tip of the sword up as Price attacked again, his blade darting again and again as Riot desperately parried. He caught Price's blade on the guard and threw his head forward, but Price bent his own head down slightly, and Riot cracked his own nose onto the man's crown. Blood streamed down his lips into his mouth and dripped from his chin, and Price kicked Riot in the back of his injured knee, and he fell, his short sword falling from his hand.

Price picked it up and tossed it into the rushing water next to them.

“I killed orcs in the mountains, Riot. Compared to them, you are a lamb.”

Price stabbed his sword into the ground, and with a deep breath, let the ley power fill his cupped hands.

Riot watched, mesmerized. Every other Leybound held a handful of raging, misty ley power that leaked over the edges, but Price held a subdued, tamed, mirrored pool of gray light, barely a ripple disturbing its surface.

Riot flung out his hand. Moran had drained the ley power from his body, so he would have to rip down both barriers, the one holding back the ley line and the one blocking the hedron scar. He'd be cooked alive, but the Leybound would live, and Natalia Quinn and Loic would survive. And gods knew he was tired, and if he was going to die, then he would take Price with him.

Riot saw a ripple in the air, and Natalia Quinn emerged and threw herself at Price, catching him between his shoulder blades and sending him staggering forward.

Riot surged to his feet just in time for Price to slam into him, and he stepped back into the empty air above the raging waters. His flailing hands grabbed a hold of Price's jacket, and they both tumbled into the raging waters below.