Master of Chains - Jess Lebow [7]
Kharl nodded hesitantly. "But what if they give us trouble?"
Ryder shrugged. "Then I suppose you'll get the opportunity to use your sword after all."
Kharl shook his head. "No. I mean, what if they don't give us the letter? What do we do then?"
Jarl, a great big bear of a man with a tattoo of a mermaid on each forearm, spoke up. "We take it from them, lad."
The other men nodded their agreement.
"But…" Kharl stuttered. "But… do we…?"
Ryder put his hand on the young man's shoulder. "Kharl, I won't ask you to kill anyone in cold blood, if that's what you're asking."
Kharl nodded, his shoulders relaxing a bit.
"But if things do get out of hand, you may have to defend yourself." Ryder suddenly got serious. "If that happens, if you find yourself in the position where it's your life or his-" Ryder looked up at each of the other men, his eyes lingering on Liam a moment longer than the rest, then back at Kharl- "Then I expect you to kill that man dead. I won't be losing anyone on this raid. Is that understood?"
Kharl nodded, and the other men grunted their assent.
"Good." Ryder chuckled, and the moment of seriousness passed. "You know, Kharl, you can do me a favor."
"Really? What?"
"Your mother makes the best beef stew in all of Erlkazar. When you get back, see if you can't get her to make a pot and invite Samira and me over for dinner."
The worry on Kharl's face faded. "All right, Ryder. I'll do that."
Liam shook his head. His brother had always had a way with people. "Hey, Kharl."
The blond man leaned back to look at Liam. "Yeah?"
"I want some of that stew too."
Kharl threw his arms out wide. "You're all invited."
The sound of horses and wheels grew louder as it came around the bend, transforming into a well-appointed carriage pulled by a pair of majestic-looking horses draped in the livery of Lord Purdun. The coach wasn't in any hurry. The doors were painted with the familiar shield-and-double-crossed-sword crest that turned Liam's stomach every time he saw it. It was the official seal of Lord Purdun, the owner and master of the land on which all of Liam's family and friends lived and had to pay taxes for.
Just as Ryder had said, there were only two guards and the driver. Whoever rode inside was concealed by velvet drapes covering the windows. Liam imagined the occupant was some corpulent, bloated diplomat with a double chin and greasy fingers. Who better to deliver a letter of alliance from the bastard Lord Purdun to one of the other regional barons?
The carriage drew near, and Ryder rose onto the balls of his feet, still hidden from the road by the tall brush. He held his hands to his face and whispered to Liam, "Before you can truly move forward, you have to be willing to live with the consequences."
Then Ryder smiled and looked at the other men. "It's time to give it to old Firefist." He dropped into a deep crouch, then sprang out of the bush. "Now!" he shouted, pulling his long sword from its sheath as he came down in front of the carriage.
Liam didn't hesitate. He was the second of the eight men to reach the road and draw his weapon, taking his position beside his brother.
As Liam had expected, the horses were startled by the sudden appearance of armed men on the road. They bucked, and the driver had to struggle to keep control of them.
"Halt!" shouted Ryder, holding his palm out to the coach.
The other men leaped out of their hiding spots-two more up front, the final four behind, boxing in the coach on the packed dirt road.
The guards on top of the carriage had to hold on to the seat to avoid being tossed from their perch. But as the horses came to a stop, they stood up and drew their weapons.
"Don't be foolish," shouted Ryder. "We're eight. You're only two. Just drop your weapons and give us the letter you carry, and there will be no need for you to be harmed."
Liam wished he were as eloquent as his older brother. No wasted effort, no beating around the bush, just the facts, plain and simple.
The guards stood motionless, still gripping their swords. They looked far more relaxed than