A Clash of Honor by Morgan Rice Read Free Book Online Page B

any worth, she’s probably gone already. His whores don’t last long.”
    Erec turned to go, when he felt a warm, clammy hand grab his wrist. He turned, surprised to see the innkeeper grabbing him.
    “If it is whores you seek, why not try one of mine? They are just as good as his, and half the price.”
    Erec sneered at the man, revolted. If he had more time, he would probably kill him, just to rid the world of a man such as he. But he summed him up, and decided he wasn’t worth the effort.
    Erec shook his hand off, then leaned in close.
    “Lay your hands on me again,” Erec warned, “and you will wish that you hadn’t. Now take two steps back from me before I find a nice spot for this rapier in my hand.”
    The innkeeper looked down, eyes opened wide in fear, and took several steps back.
    Erec turned and stormed from the room, elbowing and shoving patrons out of his way as he burst back outside and through the double doors. He had never been so disgusted by humanity.
    Erec mounted his horse, which was prancing and snorting at some drunk passersby who were eyeing it—no doubt, Erec figured, to try to steal it. He wondered if they would have actually attempted it if he had not returned until a few minutes more, and he made a note to himself to tie his horse more securely at the next place. He marveled at the vice of this town. Still, his horse, Warkfin, was a hardened warhorse, and he knew that if anyone tried to steal him, he would trample them to death.
    Erec kicked Warkfin, and they went charging down the narrow street, Erec doing the best he could to avoid the throngs of people. It was late in the night, yet the streets seemed to become more and more dense with humanity, people of all races mingling with each other. Several drunk patrons screamed out at him as he charged past them too quickly, but he didn’t care. He could feel Alistair within reach, and he would stop at nothing until he had her back.
    The street ended in a stone wall, and the last building on the right was a leaning tavern, with white clay walls and a thatched roof, which looked as if it had seen better days. From the looks of the people going in and out, Erec sensed this was the right place.
    Erec dismounted, tied his horse securely to a post, and burst through the doors. As he did, he stopped in his tracks, surprised.
    The place was dimly lit, one big room, a few flickering torches on the walls, a dying fire in the fireplace in the far corner, and strewn with rugs everywhere, on which lied scores of women, scantily dressed, chained to each other and chained to the walls. They all appeared to be on drugs, and Erec could smell the opium in the air, and saw a pipe being passed around. A few well-dressed men walked through the room, kicking and nudging the feet of the women here and there, as if testing out the merchandise and deciding what to buy.
    In the far corner of the room there sat a single man on a small, red velvet chair, wearing a silk robe, women chained to either side of him. Standing behind him were huge, muscular men, their faces covered in scars, taller and broader even than Erec, looking as if they would be thrilled to kill somebody.
    Erec took in the scene and realized exactly what was going on: this was a sex den, these women were for hire, and that man in the corner was the kingpin, the man who had snatched Alistair, and probably snatched all of these women, too. Even now Alistair might be in this room, Erec realized.
    He burst into action, frantically hurrying through the aisles of women and scanning all the faces for hers. There were several dozen women in this room, some passed out, and the room was so dim, it was hard to tell right away. He looked from face to face, walking through the rows, when suddenly a large palm smacked him in the chest.
    “You pay yet?” came a gruff voice.
    Erec looked up and saw a huge man standing over him, scowling down.
    “You want to look at the women, you gotta pay,” the man boomed in his