Master of Chains - Jess Lebow [17]
"Once Purdun's been removed from his position, the farmers will want me to be their new leader. To keep the peace, we will have the other barons of Erlkazar, who are all under our control, petition the king to appoint me as the new baron of Ahlarkham." He took a deep breath, his smile widening.
"And once we have control," Montauk continued, "we can begin our plans of secession. Each of the five baronies in turn will remove itself from Erlkazar, forming independent countries. After that, it's only a small matter of starting a war over territory, and the entire region will be in turmoil."
Shyressa nodded. "I do not want to deprive you of your fun. Still-" the ancient vampire waved her hands over her body, conjuring a blood-red cloak that covered her lithe frame- "I think I'll come along to see for myself just how well this plan is coming together."
Montauk bowed again. "As you wish, my lady."
She stepped down off the dais, coming up behind one of the spawn feasting on the remains of Lord Tammsel. "Let's bring a little gift for Lord Purdun." She reached down and stroked the hair of the undead man before her.
The minion looked up at his mistress, blood covering his face.
"You'd like to be reacquainted with your old friend, wouldn't you, Menrick?"
The vampire spawn dropped the bone he'd been gnawing on and turned to hug Lady Shyressa's legs.
"That's right," she said, enjoying the adoration from her beloved follower. "I thought you'd like that."
CHAPTER 4
"Wake up, you pig-slopping bastard!"
A wave of water hit Ryder in the face, and he sat bolt upright.
"Wha…Where am I?"
"Shut up, you," came the same voice.
Ryder wiped the water out of his eyes with the back of his hand. He was sitting on a soldier's cot in a cold, dank stone cell. A pair of weak torches, one on each side of a single door, lit the room. Four men-all but one wearing the jade green and royal blue uniforms of Lord Purdun's elite guard-surrounded him. The fourth held an empty bucket.
Unlike the others, this one sported a dirty white shirt, the sleeves rolled up, and a worn leather vest over the top. His head, face, and exposed forearms, all completely hairless, shined in the dim torchlight. A handful of scars crisscrossed the man's cheeks and forearms. Ryder recognized him immediately-Captain Phinneous. He was notorious among the Crimson Awl. Ryder had heard some of the older members tell stories about Phinneous around the campfire. Ryder never believed them. No man could be that cruel. Ryder's lips curled up into a grimace. Guess now he'd know for sure if the tales were true.
Ryder looked down at himself. His shirt was torn and bloodied, but the gash in his stomach was no longer there. He grabbed his gut, running his fingers along the fresh scar where the soldier's blade had cut him.
"I'm not dead."
The guardsmen laughed.
"Not yet," said the captain.
Ryder swung his feet around and planted them on the floor. He gripped the edge of the cot with both hands. "What is it you want from me?"
Captain Phinneous spun the bucket upside down, slapped it to the ground, put one foot atop it, and leaned down into Ryder's face. "We want you to tell us all you know about the Crimson Awl."
Ryder looked at the floor and shook his head. "Afraid I can't do that."
A sharp thud filled the small room, and the wooden bucket flew off the floor, hitting Ryder. The lights in the dungeon room flashed brighter as the heavy wood hit him in the face and his head flew backward, slamming against the stone wall. He could feel blood dripping from a new wound on his cheek, and his head began to thump with pain.
"That was uncalled for."
Captain Phinneous's fist connected with Ryder's jaw, and the lights flashed again.
"And that?" inquired the captain. "I suppose that wasn't needed either?"
Ryder gripped his jaw, jiggling it a little. It felt as though it might come unhinged. "Yeah, that too."
Four hands grabbed Ryder