Tear·Sin

By Travis Lee

Poor boy. Coming into Hell to challenge the Unburnt.

The knights of Madri seek death in battle, wandering the countryside, fighting injustice in a rapidly modernizing world. When the legendary knight, Ganton the Unburnt, joins the trans-oceanic slave trade, Tyrsan decides to stop him. A young knight eager to prove himself, Tyrsan faces a worldwide cabal of slavers, corrupt officials and Ganton, the greatest warrior in the world gone mad.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Travis Lee
• Release date: Oct 1, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310637957

Travis Lee

Travis Lee lived in Wuhan, China for two years. He currently resides in the States.

Book preview

Tear·Sin

by: Travis Lee

Copyright 2015 Travis Lee

Smashwords Edition

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Table of Contents

1: the burning tattoo

2: the coral dagger (i)

3: to rise above peons

4: masks

5: the legendary knight

6: the coral dagger (ii)

Chapter One

The Burning Tattoo

1

You said they wouldn't find you.

Captain Cilias stood on the forecastle, a moonlit sea unfolding before him. The last months' raids had yielded a great haul of slaves, thanks to the man standing behind him. The crew hadn't wanted a knight aboard the ship; cold stare, humorless, the man was a swordhead through and through. But even swordheads could prove useful.

You're afraid, Captain.

Cilias reached for his pistol. The knight stood at least four heads taller, his name and exploits legendary throughout Madri: Ganton the Unburnt, who'd slain six rogue knights in a burning inn, emerging unharmed. Cilias knew his reputation.

On the raids he'd seen it justified.

Where did you see him?

I didn't.

Captain Cilias turned around, hand not leaving his pistol. It held six shots. Maybe not enough to bring the swordhead down, if Ganton even gave him a chance to fire. Knights did not use guns. They hardly used their swords.

They had hands.

How do you know?

Ganton crossed his arm over his chest. In the shadow of the knight's overshirt lurked his tattoo, a black star caging the great crystal which bonded all knights in eternal brotherhood. Every knight got this tattoo at the end of their training. It burned in the presence of other knights.

Captain Cilias slipped a finger around the trigger. Looks like they found you.

Ganton said nothing.

I -- As Cilias spoke, he raised his pistol. He'd intended to move quickly, emptying it into the knight and hoping for the best. But Ganton was quicker. He didn't touch his sword.

He used his hands.

Cilias's pistol fell. Ganton lifted him up.

You knew what I was when you brought me aboard. Ganton said, his voice cracking. It was only a matter of time.

Ganton let go. Cilias caught his breath and said, What are we going to do?

"You will do nothing. This is between knights."

2

The cargo hold was filled with five rows of slaves, all hooded, their hands bound with rope. While King Michael had made slavery a capital crime, waiting in Madri were men rich enough to wear their own crowns. The sea didn't respect the king and neither did the rich.

You are here. Ganton's tattoo was searing. Come forth, brother. Face me.

The ship sailed smoothly over the night sea. No one spoke.

Very well.

Ganton yanked the closest slave's hood off. An old savage. He looked up at Ganton like a sick man at an angry and anonymous god. Ganton grabbed both sides of his head and hooked his fingers in tight, just under his jaw.

He gave a hard twist. The crack filled the cargo hold.

The old man slumped over.

Ganton unhooded another slave, who began to beg in his own language. Ganton grimaced. Something . . . offensive about this man. His hands felt dirty.

He drew his sword.

And someone spoke up.

A knight carries his sword so that he may never need use it.

Ganton went still.

Do you need a sword to kill a bound man?

Rise, said Ganton, or I'll take his head right now.

Everyone is headed to the same place, said a man rising in the back. Us especially, brother.

Ganton kicked his way through the slaves. He grabbed the knight and hauled him to the front.

Ganton unhooded him.

A young man with a young beard. A face barely into knighthood, he nonetheless carried the look of someone who felt every second of his short time on this world.

Brother, Ganton said. What should I call you?

Tyrsan.

Ganton had never heard that name. Which meant . . .

A junior knight. Who's your elder?

Tobias.

Where is he?

Not here.

Where is he?

Not. Here. Need to hear it again?

Ganton let the full meaning of his words sink in. A junior knight sent to kill him. No, he thought. Not sent.

You came on your own.

Of course I did.

Ganton nodded. Young and foolish. Are you made any other way?

The junior knight said nothing.

You have more balls than Tobias, but still, you should not have come here. There is nowhere to go, boy and no one to help you. He glanced at the old man. No one.

Ganton swung his sword and the young knight moved. He knocked the slave out of the way with his shoulders and spun. It happened so quickly that Ganton had trouble understanding right away. He saw his lowered sword, the slave on the deck,.

And the rope binding the young knight's hands, in pieces.

Ganton backed away from a kick. His heart was racing. He knew this feeling and he welcomed it like