Chapter 6
C alder stood frozen in the hall, struck still by the familiar and muted sound that came from the other side of the door he had locked. It was not the meek cry of a broken girl. It was the stifled roar of someone with rage to spare and nothing to lose. It was the battle cry of a woman who would ruin his life if he gave her a chance.
He tensed his jaw and narrowed his eyes. She would not be kept, and he would not be sleeping. For the first time in recent memory, Calder didn’t know what to do.
Exhaustion gnawed on his bones and frustration clawed at his flesh. He twisted, feeling the bite of pain from the newly cauterized wound on his side. It was a welcomed distraction from the uncertainty threatening to unravel the carefully crafted order he established to keep his own monsters at bay. While answers were elusive, he knew exactly where he could find pain. Following the sounds of the bustling keep, he made his way down the corridors to do just that.
With the sub-tenant and tenant-in-chief handling business in a nearby town, the men of the keep relocated to what they affectionately came to call the Den. An attractive name for an ugly place in the bowels of the keep, where they gathered to beat the absolute shit out of each other. Something that recent events made increasingly more appealing to Calder.
He made his way down the stairs, whose edges had been rounded by the countless men before him. The air was thick with the iron-rich scent of the bars below, the acidic aroma of the smoke from the torches, and a musty odor that he could never be certain was attributed to the keep or the men. The temperature dropped for a time as he continued his descent, but soon, the body heat of the waiting crowd below and their accompanying shouts chased the cold away.
A wall of shadowy figures appeared in the corridor at the base of the stairs, the light from the torches bursting through the spaces between them and revealing brief flashes of the bodies battling on the other side. Anticipation danced down Calder’s spine like a streak of lightning.
Surprised by his presence, hushed murmurs were exchanged as Calder pushed his way through the crowd. He wasn’t there to disrupt their game, he merely came in search of the same thing they did.
Release.
As he broke to the front of the crowd, he could see the two men currently locked in an intense match. Blood and sweat glistened over their darting forms. It was unclear if they had drawn blood from each other or if it was the product of previous rounds.
In the Den, the weapons varied night by night, and upon seeing tonight’s weapon of choice was knives, Calder’s smile grew sharp.
He watched the men tussle, their blades glinting in the torchlight. One of the men disarmed his opponent, pausing with his knife pressed firmly to his throat. Quickly, their expression shifted, and the man who lost kneeled. The victor let out a deep chuckle as the blade retreated before he slapped the man on the back and helped him to his feet. They congratulated each other on a well-fought match and then rejoined the crowd.
Most would not sign up to be beaten, broken, and bloodied, but pain reminded them they were alive. Brutality sang in their blood, and the chains on the back wall were a reminder that brutality was what this space was built for, just like them. A deep voice boomed, calling for the next fighter, and the crowd cheered.
Calder looked around at the many faces that were free of damage. With a smirk and confident stride, he walked into the center.
The crowd grew quiet as the men looked at each other. All those present were knights, but that did not mean they would willingly fight a Sea Raven. They were a different kind of monster.
A chuckle rang from the quiet crowd and they parted as the source of the amusement made their way to the front.
Banner fucking Kinkaid.
It didn't take long for him to meet Calder’s gaze, given that he was a head and shoulders larger than the average man.
The torchlight caught the decorative rings and beads threaded through the braids on the sides of his head, which joined the rest of his dirty blonde hair tied back with a leather strap. The shadow of the feather he twirled between his fingers danced across his olive skin as he approached. He tucked the feather into one of his meticulous braids when he reached the center.
“Tomorrow, I will either be able to boast of beating the infamous Sea Raven or that I at least had the spine to try. Something none of you clearly do,” he shouted to the crowd.
“For good reason,” Calder shot back.
Though Calder did not make friendships as a rule, Banner had a habit of ignoring rules.
“At least buy me a drink after you kick my ass?” he asked with a smirk.
When paired with a charming smile, many mistook Banner’s roguish nature and the mischievous glint in his eyes as traits mutually exclusive with bloodlust.
Many people are also fools.
Many of those fools are also dead, courtesy of the poison-filled hollow of his feather and the sharp gilded edge at the base that delivered it.
While Banner opted for a strategic approach rather than overt strength, having been trained by Calder, he was more than capable in a fight.
Calder nodded as Banner grabbed the knives from the man who shouted earlier, tossing one to his opponent.
The crowd cheered as the men squared off.
“Not often I see you down here. To what do we owe the honor?” Banner teased in a hushed voice.
Rather than answer, Calder twirled the knife in his fingers and allowed the hunger in his eyes to speak for him.
“So, someone pissed you off… great.” Banner rolled his eyes and lunged, swiping the blade level with Calder’s chest.
A hiss threatened to escape between Calder’s gritted teeth as he leaned out of the path of the blade. A trickle of warmth skated down the muscles of his abdomen from the newly angered wound. He righted himself and then dropped his forearm on Banner’s elbow, knocking away the arm. Calder brought around his knife, but Banner blocked the strike. Sliding his boot between Banner’s spread stance, Calder hooked his heel and pulled his leg out from underneath him.
As Banner fell to his right knee, he swung his left foot, forcing Calder to jump back. Using the momentum, Banner spun and rose with gravitas.
“Cute,” Calder offered drolly.
Banner gave him a wink, and they began to prowl towards each other once more.
“Hmmm, you’ve got crazy eyes. Is it a paramour, mayhaps?” he asked Calder with a raised brow .
An observation that received only a growl.
“Not one to kiss and tell?” Banner teased with a knowing smile.
Calder decided two things in that moment.
The first was that the tumultuous events of the day clearly had an impact on his normally stoic features. The second was that, friend or not, he was most definitely going to kick Banner’s ass.
They began to circle each other, and Banner stepped back closer to the wall. Strategically, it was a poor decision as the position left him vulnerable, and Calder almost chastised him but realized too late that it was he who had made the mistake.
Banner slipped his foot under one of the chains, and with a swift kick, launched it outward.
The kiss of the metal against Calder’s cheek drew another growl from deep in his chest and he stumbled back, shaking off the impact. The crowd erupted in shouts and whistles. Banner bowed to his admirers before readying himself for Calder’s retaliation.
Banner laughed.
Calder snarled.
They both charged.
The pair became a blur, slowing only when their limbs were tangled. Their knives shook, suspended between them, ready to strike, held back only by the strength of the other. Calder’s lips pulled back in a feral manner and his opponent’s eyes darted briefly to the exposed teeth inching closer. Banner’s jaw clenched from exertion as he fought to hold his guard against Calder’s brute strength.
“You know,” he grunted. “You seem a little tense, boss…” With each word Banner spoke, Calder exerted more of his strength. “More than usual… wanna talk about it?”
Calder answered by throwing his head forward, savoring the satisfying crack of Banner’s nose and the blood that followed. Knocking Banner’s arm away, Calder planted a powerful punch in the center of his chest .
Before Banner recovered, Calder kicked the knife from his hand, the metal clattering across the stone, and pressed his own to Banner’s throat.
Banner vibrated with laughter beneath Calder’s grip, crimson staining his amused smile. If people were not afraid of Banner, they were not paying attention.
Calder shook his head at the madman, who sucked in his bloody bottom lip as if trying to hold back another snarky comment. He released him and then began to walk away.
Banner spat out a mouth full of blood. “Don’t forget about my drink, Raven! Remember, I know where you live!” his shout was teasing and not the temperament of a man who just had his face bashed in.
The haunting echoes of laughter filled the corridor as Calder made his way topside.
Reaching the courtyard, he tipped his head back and took in a deep breath, savoring the crisp cool air entering his lungs and the tension that seemed to expel from his muscles along with his exhale. When he opened his eyes, however, every muscle in his body locked up as his blood ran cold. His gaze narrowed to where Emer’s room would be located and the open window that mocked him.
“There’s no fucking way,” Calder doubted, certain the scared creature he had left locked in the room wouldn’t have jumped out of a second-floor window.
As if in answer, a raven cried in the night and Calder began to run.
As the knight ran through the halls, Emer stumbled through the night.
There was nothing in the keep that she trusted—not the quiet, the darkness that settled, the stones of the walls, or the birds in the sky.
As she ran, sweat streaked down her neck, searing into the wounds in her shoulder from where the bark of the ash tree had torn into her exposed skin, courtesy of the too-large-tunic. It was unclear if the slickness of her palms was from fear of being caught or if the scraps of her dress that she used to wrap her hands and forearms had failed. Those were problems for a new day. Tonight, her only concern was to become a ghost to haunt the only person who knew she existed. Given that Calder would be held responsible for not only his lie but for losing her if he confessed, she doubted he would raise the alarm now that she was out of the keep.
If he intended to hunt her down, he would do it without the help of his brethren. That thought kept her feet moving despite the exhaustion that was setting in.
There was a moment before she jumped from her window to the tree in the courtyard that her doubt had become a tangible being. The tendrils of darkness below her crept up from the shadows and grew closer with each moment she hesitated. She promised her father that she would do anything .
So, she jumped.
Now, racing along the outer edge of the keep, her chest heaved and her muscles screamed. Despite the pain, she felt a smile tug at her lips.
Calder had seen her broken on the shore, but what he failed to understand was that she had been broken long before he found her and she knew how to put herself back together. She only wished she could see the look on his face when he realized his mistake.