The Stone Wolf (The Chain Breaker Book 4) by D.K. Holmberg (digital book reader TXT) 📕

Once he stepped inside, Gavin closed the door, sealing it tight again. He paced around the room for a moment, trying to work free the issues that he had, debating what he needed to do. To get to Wrenlow, he was going to have to sneak out of the city, get to Tristan, and complete whatever job Tristan had for him.

That’s what this was, after all. A test.

Complete the test, get the prize, and then move on.

This time, rather than sleep or food, as was often the case with Tristan, the prize was his friend. And likely Olivia too. That meant Gavin had to do whatever he could to get to them, to ensure he completed the task Tristan asked of him so that he could keep his friend alive.

He needed to clear his head.

There was only one way to do that. It was late enough—and dark enough—that he didn’t want to venture back out into the city again. He would use this time to work through some of his training and prepare for whatever he might need to do in order to defeat Tristan. That was what it would come down to. Gavin had to be ready, but he also knew that his old mentor had learned a few new tactics. Maybe he should’ve been training more with others in the meantime.

He stopped at the table and set the piece of paper down, then removed everything else from his pockets. He didn’t want any temptation to use the enchantments he had.

Over the last few weeks, Gavin had started to rely on them far more than he ever had before. When he navigated in the darkness, he’d even come to depend on the enchantment that lightened everything, which was a danger. He hadn’t even realized he’d been doing it.

He knew better than that, which was why he had to get back to the basics of his training. For all of Tristan’s faults—and Gavin now believed that his old mentor had many of them—he had trained Gavin well.

Gavin was a fighter. He knew over a dozen fighting styles and had mastered all of them. He was unrivaled.

Other than Tristan.

He stepped into the center of the chamber, setting his hands on either side of him, and he positioned himself in the fighting stance. He focused on his breathing, letting it come slowly, building as it did, and then began to flow through the movements. Gavin cycled through every single fighting style that he knew, and as he transitioned from one to the next, he ignored the feeling of power within him. He wasn’t going to get caught up in trying to summon the core reserves. The only purpose of that would be to distract him from what he needed to do, and Gavin couldn’t be dependent on anything other than his own skill. Much like everything else, his core reserves could fade, and he could end up relying on that energy, only to find it missing when he needed it.

He had to focus only on his skill, nothing else. Not that core magic. Not any enchantments. Not even weapons. Nothing other than what he could have with him.

He danced through the movements, letting his mind go blank. As he flowed through the fighting styles, he started to envision Tristan across from him. He had to visualize what Tristan would do; the way Tristan would oppose his moves. And if he could come up with that, then Gavin thought he might be able to find a way to overpower him.

It would take his focus. And yet, there was something distracting about concentrating in that way. There was something off, as if imagining Tristan across from him transported Gavin to a time when he doubted himself—something he had not done since he’d stopped training with Tristan. After leaving Tristan, Gavin had come to view himself as a fighter, a warrior, but he also viewed himself as a person of his own unique principle. Now it was as if Tristan was trying to manipulate him back into working on his behalf, the way he had wanted Gavin to serve all that time ago.

Gavin finished moving through all of the patterns he knew. A sheen of sweat covered his body, and his breathing took a moment to steady.

None of it had helped, really, other than to remind him of the fighting techniques he had memorized long ago. The real benefit would’ve been in sparring and proving himself against somebody else. But in this case, Gavin didn’t have any reason to prove himself against anyone—he didn’t have anybody he could prove himself against.

A faint chill washed over him. He looked up toward the door. That sense was familiar—and it was definitely magical. Strange that he would be so attuned to it now, but there was no doubt in his mind of what he detected.

He darted over to the table and grabbed for the dagger, then changed his mind and picked up his sword. Inside this room, the sword might be more valuable, especially as he could navigate around here with the sword and use it to keep spacing for himself.

Gavin approached the door, thinking that maybe it was the same strange women who had attacked him before. As he neared, he thought he heard something on the other side.

He started to call upon the core reserves within him, thankful he hadn’t used them during his practice, which meant he still had strength left. Then again, if he needed something more, he had the sh’rasn powder on the table that would replenish his reserves.

He decided not to use that energy—there was a danger in doing so that he wasn’t sure he wanted to use unless needed. Besides, in this place, he didn’t think that anybody could sneak in on him quite as easily. There should be a measure of protection here, which Gavin could take advantage of.

A knock came at the door, and Gavin frowned.

What kind of attacker