A Clash of Honor by Morgan Rice

low voice. “Those are the rules.”
    Erec sneered back at the man, feeling a hatred rising up within him, and then faster than the man could blink, he reached up and struck him with the heel of his palm, right in his esophagus.
    The man gasped, eyes opened wide, then dropped to his knees, clutching his throat. Erec reached up and elbowed him in the temple, and the man fell flat on his face.
    Erec walked quickly through the rows, scanning the faces desperately for Alistair, but she was nowhere in sight. She was not here.
    Erec’s heart was pounding as he hurried to the far corner of the room, to the older man sitting in the corner, watching over everything.
    “Have you found something you like?” asked the man. “Something you want to bid on?”
    “I’m looking for a woman,” Erec began, his voice steel, trying to keep calm, “and I’m only going to say this once. She’s tall, with long blond hair and green-blue eyes. Her name is Alistair. She was taken from Savaria but a day or two ago. I’m told she was taken here. Is that true?”
    The man slowly shook his head, grinning.
    “The property you seek has already been sold, I’m afraid,” the man said. “A fine specimen, though. You do have good taste. Choose another, and I will give you a discount.”
    Erec glowered, feeling a rage within him unlike any he’d ever felt.
    “Who took her?” Erec growled.
    The man smiled.
    “My, you do seem fixed on this one particular slave.”
    “She is not a slave,” Erec growled. “She is my wife .”
    The man looked back, shocked—then suddenly threw his head back and roared with laughter.
    “Your wife ! That’s a good one. Not anymore, my friend. Now she is someone else’s play thing.” Then the innkeeper’s face darkened, into an evil scowl, as he gestured to his henchmen, and added, “Now get rid of this piece of trash.”
    The two muscle-bound men came forward, and with a speed that surprised Erec, they both lunged him at once, reaching out to grab his chest.
    But they did not realize who they were attacking. Erec was faster than them both, sidestepping them, grabbing the wrist of one of them and bending it back until the man fell flat on his back, and then elbowing the other in the throat at the same time. Erec stepped forward and crushed the windpipe of the man on the floor, knocking him out, then leaned forward and head-butted the other one, who was grasping his throat, knocking him out, too.
    The two men lay there, unconscious, and Erec stepped over their bodies and towards the innkeeper, who was now shaking his chair, eyes opened wide in fear.
    Erec reached forward, grabbed the man by the hair, yanked back his head, and held a dagger to the man’s throat.
    “Tell me where she is, and I might just let you live,” Erec growled.
    The man stammered.
    “I will tell you, but you are wasting your time,” he answered. “I sold her to a lord. He has his own force of knights and lives in his own castle. He is a very powerful man. His castle has never been breached. And beyond that, he has an entire army on reserve. He’s a very rich man—he has an army of mercenaries willing to do his bidding at any moment. Any girl he buys, he keeps. There is no way you will ever get her free. So go back to wherever it is you came from. She is gone.”
    Erec held the blade tighter to the man’s throat until he began to draw blood, and the man cried out.
    “Where is this lord?” Erec snarled, losing patience.
    “His castle is west of town. Take the Western gate of the city, and go until the road goes no further. You will see his castle. But it is a waste of time. He paid some good money for her—more than she was worth.”
    Erec had enough. Without pausing, he sliced this sex trader’s throat, killing him, blood pouring out everywhere, as the man slumped down in his seat, dead.
    Erec looked down at the dead body, at the unconscious henchmen, and felt revolted by this entire place. He couldn’t believe it