Leybound Chapter Forty-Five | The Sun Tower (Patreon)

The passage was rough. The little boats were tossed on the waves, and several times they were sucked in perilously close to the jagged cliffs. The sounds of retching and groaning were snatched away by the chill wind, but eventually they gained the calm of the wide harbor and scrambled out of the boats in the deep shadows of the sea wall.

The tower was a darker shadow rearing over the city, and the streets were thronged with people all making their way slowly to the north gate. Traders, laborers, women tugging children, Faelen guards, and sailors formed a surging crowd, their excited chatter rising over the city. 

“Looks like Moran’s distraction worked,” Loic said. 

“Let’s hope he can make a decent enough show of it. If he gets killed right away, we’ll have a problem,” Riot replied. 

“You underestimate him; he admires you, both of you. I think he wants to prove himself,” Quinn said. 

For the first time, Riot found himself hoping that the arcanist survived, but then his attention turned to the dark tower, and he knew he was just as likely to end up in a cold grave as Moran. 

“Mix in with the crowd; if anyone gets separated, we meet at the tower,” Riot hissed to the line of crouching men behind him. “Let’s go.”

They moved out in a ragged line and soon joined the back of the crowd that moved northward. Riot picked out snippets of conversation; some said that the archaists had brought a dozen duelists to challenge the high faelen that controlled the citadel; others said it was just a lone man, a roving arcanist who was here to rid the citadel of the oppressors. One said that the lord of the tower had descended to defend the city, but his words were met with murmurs and dark stares at the tower in the center of the city. 

Their group quickly fractured, and as much as he tried to keep them all in sight, Riot soon found himself alone with Loic, who forced a path with his massive arms. Anyone who turned to complain quickly silenced when they saw who was pushing them. 

“Can you see any of the others?” Riot called. 

“Crease and Fletcher I can see. Miss Quinn and the smelly arcanist were ahead of us, but none of the others. They’ll make it to the tower,” Loic assured him. 

The young northman came to an abrupt halt and grunted, and Riot looked past him to see a man laid out on the cobblestones at his feet, a heavy cudgel rolling out of his limp hand. 

Four more thugs materialized around them, all heavyset, with the busted knuckles and scared faces of tavern brawlers. Loic bellowed and charged two of them as Riot was hit from behind and staggered forward, dark spots swimming in his vision. There was no room to draw a weapon here, and the crowd was still around them, so Riot raised his arms to block the fist blows from his attackers before surging forward and catching one man on the jaw with his closed fist. He heard the crack of bone as the man's head snapped back, and he followed up with a kick to his knee that sent his leg flailing out, and he crumpled to the ground. 

A fleshy thump next to him was followed by a gurgling sound, and the man behind Riot folded up on the cobbles with Loic behind him.

“Thanks,” Riot said, flinching as crack sounded nearby and a flash of arcane light burst out, followed by the screams and shouts as the crowd surged like frightened sheep. 

Loic and Riot pushed their way forward, relying on kicks and punches to move the panicked citizens out of their way. Riot stumbled and looked down to see the body of Odred, the small arcanist, dead or unconscious, on the floor. 

“Check on him,” Riot ordered Loic before searching the faces of the surging crowd around him for any sign of Quinn.

“He’s alive,” Loic reported. 

“No sign of Quinn, though.” Riot cursed, the street was emptying now, and there were flashes of red uniforms, Faelen guards coming to investigate. 

“Miss Quinn!” Loic yelled. 

The northman began to push forward again, calling out for Natalia, but Riot stopped him. “If they know we’re here, we don’t have time for this.” Riot seized the dazed arcanist by the scruff of his robes. “We need to get to the tower.”

The panic of the crowd fell away as they approached the squat fortress at the base of the tower. The dark streets were abandoned here, and the houses were derelict, as if no one wished to live in it's long shadow. 

There was a movement inside the large entranceway, and they approached cautiously, relieved to see that it was Crease and Fletcher, and behind them the rest of the leybound company. 

Fletcher sported a bruise on his left eye that was already beginning to blacken, and Lehan had a busted lip. Norton, the young boy they had found on the road after the ambush, sat against the wall with a dazed expression on his face. 

“Did we lose anyone?” Riot asked, scanning the faces in the gloom. 

"No, sir, a bit of bother, but we gave as good as we got,” Fletcher replied. 

“I saw Price, sir, at the back of the crowd, only for a second,” Crease reported. 

Loic returned from the back of the fortress. “There’s no one inside, and this is the only way in, just like Moran said.”

Riot nodded, looking down as the small arcanist moaned and rolled around on the floor. Riot seized him and pulled him up to his feet. “Where’s Natalia Quinn?”

"Nooo, no no,” the arcanist gibbered. 

Riot shook him violently, so his head lolled from side to side. “What happened?”

“A man, leybound with one eye. He took her.” Odred sobbed, tears streaming down his dirty face. “You must get her back, my mistress.”

“We have enough men to hold the tower; I could take a few and look for them,” Loic began. 

“No,” Riot interrupted him. “That’s what Price wants. We stay here and finish the job. Then we go and find that bastard.” 

Riot pulled Odred inside to the base of the tower and threw him against the small wooden door. “Open it,” he commanded. 

“My mistress, you must-”

Riot drew his sword and pointed it at Odred's neck, the tip pricking his bobbing Adams apple. “Open it.”

Odred gulped and fumbled in his filthy robe, producing a key and forcing it into the keyhole with shaking hands. There was a heavy clunk from inside, and the door creaked open to reveal a musty, dim chamber. 

The small arcanist stepped in and was instantly swallowed up by the gloom. 

“Odred,” Riot hissed, the words consumed by the heavy silence inside. 

Riot looked to Loic, who stepped back and clutched the pendant that hung from his neck as if warding off a great evil. “I said I’d fight men, not make deals with devils. We’ll hold the tower.”

Riot squared his shoulders and took a step forward inside, feeling a whisper next to him followed by a foul smell. Whipping around, he saw Odred dart back out of the small door that slammed shut behind him, Riot threw himself at it, but it was firmly locked. Outside, there were shouts followed by a sharp crack and a bellow of pain and anguish. 

“Loic! What’s going on out there?” Riot shouted, hammering on the locked door. 

A moment later, Riot heard Rimmer's voice through the door. “The little bugger got away sir, we couldn’t stop him. Loic can hardly walk; the little bastard kicked him right in the... well, in his unmentionables.” 

Riot leaned his head against the rough wooden door and sighed, then turned and made his way into the archanists tower.