by Randy Nargi
“What is it?” Etthar Calain asked.
“This is Ahantophan’s fortress. The floor plan, at least. This one page is all we could find in the archives, so it does not cover the entire structure, but it does show the dungeon. See? Here.”
Bander squinted at the diagram. It took him several moments to decode the symbols on the map and understand what he was looking at.
“This lies below the keep. See, here is the staircase down. It’s in the northeast corner of the keep. And you can see that the dungeon is not really a dungeon. It’s far too open for that. I am guessing that Ahantophan used this big area as a laboratory.
“What is that thin line?” Silbra Dal asked.
“I am not sure. It might be a walkway around the perimeter.” Meomannan Quill looked up from the scroll and asked if someone could fetch a candle. “This one section is very faded.”
“And that area to the east?” Bander asked.
“That, my dear Captain, is the apse.”
Bander didn’t say anything. He had no idea what an apse was.
Meomannan Quill continued, “I believe that the Tree Heart is located there.”
“Why is that?” Etthar Calain asked.
“Clearly, you are no dodman, old friend.” He cleared his throat as if to begin a lecture at Delham University. “Ancient architects and builders believed that certain structures or parts of structures held special power. In classical temples and other significant buildings, the apse was a place of energy. It is usually a domed vault or reliquary at the end of a hall. A sanctum.”
“Forgive my ignorance, Grand Guildmaster, but why would the Tree Heart be there?” Dusk asked.
“If you are installing a magical artifact to shield your entire structure from magic, wouldn’t you situate it in a place of power?”
Bander nodded. “This is good information. Unless the layout of the fortress has changed dramatically, access to this Tree Heart is relatively straightforward. In the keep, down one level, and then all the way to the east—to this apse.”
“And then what?” Faramir Boldfist asked.
“And then we destroy it.”
Meomannan Quill shook his head. “It is too powerful to be destroyed. And too valuable. You must disable it.”
“How?” Hirbo Thrang asked.
The old mage sighed. “I wish I knew exactly.”
“What of the gold?” Silbra Dal asked Meomannan Quill. “You said that the artifact uses gold bars for power.”
“Yes.”
“Then depriving it should cause it to cease its protection.”
Meomannan Quill said, “In theory, yes. But we do not know how it consumes the gold—or how long each bar lasts.”
“But it must be like a cooking fire,” Dusk said. “The flames would die if they were not fed wood.”
“Exactly, my dear. But, unlike a cooking fire, one bar of fuel may last weeks. Or even months.”
“I doubt it,” Hirbo Thrang said. “You know as well as I that the ancients who forged these relics ensured that there was a price for using the artifacts. It would not surprise me if something as powerful as this required a gold bar every day—or even every hour.”
“Speaking of artifacts,” Silbra Dal said. “Have you located those stolen from Skydagger?”
“No,” Meomannan Quill said. “They are scattered like seeds to the wind. Morin is smart enough to know that if he kept even two relics together, they would be visible to our trackers.”
Silbra Dal nodded. “If we don’t find those artifacts, all will be lost.”
“For once I agree with you, child.”
THEIR ENTIRE PLAN HINGED ON NIAM BEING ABLE TO LOCATE ASRYN’S TROVE. And then being able to convince the doldar to accept the revealed location as payment.
Twenty-eight hours after he left the Steading, Niam returned. He had a grim look on his face as he walked through the doors of the cooperage.
“I was beginning to give up on you,” Bander said.
“You were off by nearly fifty crates,” Niam said.
“That’s not bad.”
“Maybe not.”
“Where was it?”
“Up the coast from the mouth of the Feldel. Up in the cliffs. An old Beontan tomb.”
“That makes sense.”
“Yes, but it was well-guarded. And rather difficult to access. The shaft went down a good 60 yards. Maybe more. The doldar are still excavating.”
“But you saw it.”
“Oh, yes, I saw it.”
“And it was enough?”
“More than enough.”
“Then you did well.”
“I’m not so sure about that.”
Bander lifted one eyebrow.
Niam continued, “I never thought this would work. Now I actually have to go through with this insane plan.”
“Well, yes, there’s that.”
He took Niam through the details that the team had worked out and gave him the diagram of the dungeon level that Meomannan Quill had provided.
“You’re not making me feel more confident,” the short man said. “And don’t say that I have the easy part.”
“No, I wouldn’t say that. Matter of fact, I have the easy part. I just have to kill everyone.”
“You’ll have help. I’ll be in there alone,” Niam said.
“Not really. You’ll have a partner.”
Niam shook his head. “Maybe.”
Bander called over the rest of the team, and they went over the plan several more times—until everyone was sick of talking about it. Then they ate.
Niam departed with half-hearted assurances that he and Jaden would not fail. The rest of the team grew quiet for a good while. Then Faramir Boldfist broke the silence.
“When do we go in?”
“Normally, I like to do this late at night. Four hours after midnight. That’s when people are at their most sluggish. Mentally and physically.”
“But that time wouldn’t make sense,” Dusk said.
“No. No one would knock on the fortress gate at that hour.”
“So, when do we strike?” Wegg asked.
“Dawn,” Bander said. “Rest up.”
As everyone began to check their weapons and gear and prepare for bed, Hirbo Thrang sat down on Bander’s cot. The mage looked exhausted.
“You really think this will work?”
Bander said, “It’s as good a plan as any.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
“Hope for the best, plan for the worst. That’s one of the few things I remember my father telling me when I was a lad.”
“Good advice,” said Hirbo Thrang. “I’m just concerned about the ‘worst’ part. If they fail—”
Bander cut him off. “If they fail, I’ll try to get them out. You and Silbra Dal will stand by to teleport us out of there as soon as we clear the Tree Heart’s area of effect. We can take the battle to the field surrounding the fortress. Meomannan Quill will be there too, and he promised at least a dozen mages to assist.”
“I don’t think Gredarl Kar will be lured from his lair that easily.”
“Perhaps not, but then we retreat to fight another day.”
Hirbo Thrang was silent.
“What?” Bander asked.
“I’m worried about Bryn.”
“What’s done is done. He’s beyond worrying about now.”
Eventually, they all went to bed. It took Bander longer than usual to fall asleep. He was thinking about what Hirbo Thrang had said. Thinking about the million ways it could go all wrong. Hope for the best, plan for the worst. But what if all your plans failed?
Chapter Thirty-One
AT THREE HOURS PAST MIDNIGHT, BANDER WOKE THE TEAM. They rushed to prepare, loading the horses with supplies and weapons. Soon they were all saddled up and ready to ride.
Luckily, the moon was bright enough so they could navigate to the highway and then south towards the fortress.
Nearly three hours later, they were on the dirt track r
unning east towards their destination. Eventually, they arrived at the structure Bander and Wegg had seen, but not close enough to identify. It was a small arbor covering a ring of cobblestones set into the ground.
“A waystation,” Hirbo Thrang said. “Visitors teleport here and walk to the fortress. This is probably the edge of where magic is disrupted.”
Wegg squinted into the dark morning mist. “We must be at least a mile away.”
“That can’t be,” Silbra Dal said.
“Test it,” Bander said.
Silbra Dal cast a light spell. It worked normally.
“Do that every hundred yards,” Bander said. “I want to know the precise border of the disruption.”
The path turned south and they continued for a half mile or so, then Silbra Dal announced that her spells no longer functioned. Hirbo Thrang checked for himself and nodded.
“That is a singularly powerful relic,” he said.
“What do we do now?” Faramir Boldfist asked.
“We get off the road and wait,” Bander said. “Everyone, move into position.”
They broke into teams and distributed Meomannan Quill’s minor scrying crystals. As planned, each team quickly built a low stick shelter which they then camouflaged with long stalks of grass. They hunkered down and remained silent. Around them, dawn was just beginning to break. The sun crawled west, lighting up the sea of grass that flowed throughout the Rangelands.
After a time, Bander heard the sound of a wagon approaching. He walked out into the road. One man drove the wagon. Another sat next to him. They both looked like doldar. Jaden was on a horse, riding in front of the wagon. They all halted in front of Bander.
“Right on time,” Bander said.
“It took some doing,” Jaden said. “A lot of doing, actually.”
“Are you ready?”
“Always.” The bounty hunter grinned. He introduced Bander to the two doldar. One was clean-shaven and about fifty years old. The other was Niam—in disguise—with a long, drooping fake mustache. He looked ridiculous.
The clean-shaven man was named Eiji. He was an actual doldar. A legate, in fact.
Bander thanked him for his help.
“I’ve already been thanked,” Eiji said. “With many, many tarfets. It has been a pleasure doing business with you.” He motioned to the back of the wagon. “We have also fulfilled our obligation to Lord Governor Asryn, so all is satisfactory at present.” He bowed slightly. “All I need to do is to survive this encounter.”
“All of us feel the same,” Jaden said.
Bander handed him a scrying crystal and explained what it was. “Silbra Dal will monitor these continually. When we can hear your voice, we know that you were successful.”
“If,” Jaden said. “If you can hear my voice…”
Bander clasped him on the shoulder. “When.”
“Do you want to see him?” Niam asked, pointing to the back of the wagon.
Bander shook his head. That's the last thing he wanted to see. He wasn't superstitious, but he also wasn't eager to see Death's grimace before he needed to. "Let's just get this battle started."
NIAM POUNDED ON THE GATE. The sound echoed off of the stone walls that rose up from the glittering crystals at their base. Before too long, he heard the clang of a latch and a spy hole slid open.
“State your business!”
Niam said, “The honorable Eiji of Thindrel, Legate and official representative of the sovereign city-state of Basu, presents the corpse of Lord Governor Bryn Eresthar as per our contract with Lord Governor Abuth Asryn IV. We are here to deliver Eresthar’s body and collect the remainder of our payment.”
There was a brief agitated exchange between the men on the other side of the door. Finally one of the guards instructed Niam and Eiji to wait.
They sat for over a half hour. Eiji was very still. But he was alert—just conserving his energy. It was clear that the doldar knew how to pass the time.
Eventually, the gate was pulled open by two guards. Four more waited inside with crossbows aimed. Lord Governor Asryn stood with his hands on his hips. His personal guard, a giant of a man named Neeth, stood a few steps behind. Niam recognized the brute from Aberhall. With any luck, the guard wouldn't recognize him.
“You better not have woken me up this early in the morning without a damn good reason, doldar!”
Eiji exited the wagon and bowed to Asryn. “Your Grace, we have completed our mission. Bryn Eresthar is dead and his body lies in the back of our wagon as proof.”
“This I’ve got to see!” He took a few quick steps towards the back of the wagon, then caught himself—probably suspecting some sort of trap. “Neeth, get over here and look in that wagon for me and tell me what you see!”
The hulking bodyguard dutifully waddled over to the back of the wagon and yanked the shroud off of Bryn Eresthar’s body. “It’s him.”
Asryn’s eyes widened at the sight of his longtime enemy—finally vanquished. “Well, I’ll be!” He withdrew a stiletto from his belt and stabbed the corpse in the stomach. He whistled to himself. “You finally got ’im.”
“Unfortunately he eluded us in Laketon, but our men tracked him to Aberhall.”
“Aberhall? That son of a bitch was coming after me?”
“Apparently so. We took him as he lay in wait in the forest outside of your residence.”
“That snake!”
“Where would you like the corpse?”
“Chopped up in little pieces, but that will have to wait until later. For now, maybe I’ll just string him up in the courtyard.” He waved at the guards, “Move this wagon inside!”
The guards motioned at Niam and he slowly drove the wagon through a twenty-foot long tunnel and into a large inner ward, which was mostly empty except for an old woman dragging a bucket across the grounds.
“Halt!” the guard commanded.
Niam pulled the reins and watched as Asryn walked over to the cluster of guards.
“Don’t just sit there. Get Eresthar out of there!”
The guards dutifully complied, sliding Bryn Eresthar’s corpse from the wagon.
“Where do you want it, Your Grace?” the captain asked.
“Just dump it anywhere. I got some business to do.”
The men unceremoniously dropped the body and took a few steps back, unsure of what to do next.
Niam looked around the courtyard, looking for his target. He knew that this was the moment of truth and he'd have one chance to get this right. To his left, he saw a row of stone columns forming a peristyle along most of one side of the keep. It wasn't ideal; he was told to look for another tunnel or passage, but he didn't see anything close enough.
While Eiji distracted Asryn by asking about the remainder of the payment for the death mark, Niam drove the wagon in a circle—ostensibly to turn it around. But he apparently miscalculated and the rear of the wagon smacked into one of the columns and scraped along it, making a loud grinding sound.
Two of the guards raced over and began to berate him.
“How was I to know it is so difficult to turn around in here? You should have warned me!” Niam yelled back.
He attempted to extricate the wagon but only seemed to wedge it tighter against the columns. It was only after one of the exasperated guards took over the reins were they able to free the wagon and turn it around.
By that time, Eiji had concluded his negotiations with Asryn. The doldar climbed into the wagon.
“How did it go?” Niam asked.
“He agreed to pay half of what he owed,” Eiji said. “He said the whole thing took too long.”
Niam shook his head. “Typical of these wealthy bastards.”
He drove the wagon down the dirt road and away from Gredarl Kar’s fortress, hoping that the vehicle was now lighter by two bodies.
Chapter Thirty-Two
THE MOMENT THE WAGON HAD CONNECTED WITH THE COLUMN, JADEN SLID FROM HIS HIDING PLACE AND ROLLED INTO THE SHADOWS. The extra weight
in his satchel had thrown him off a bit, but he had quickly compensated. Jaden had then climbed up into a dark corner near the ceiling using his special gauntlets equipped with tiny hooks which allowed him to find purchase even on polished stone. Hanging there, motionless like a bat, he had waited until the wagon—and the guards—had cleared the area.
Now he was free to figure out the best way to navigate the keep, where—according to the floor plan Niam had given him—there was a staircase down to the dungeon level. He called up the plan in his mind. There was a large central hall with a corridor running north and south.
To the north, there was a kitchen and a scullery and a buttery. He briefly considered stopping off in the latter for a swig of ale but decided against it. After all, it was only an hour or so after dawn.
Somewhere north of the great hall and east of the kitchen was his destination: the chamber leading to the dungeon. Now all he had to do was get there—without being seen.
This was going to be tricky. At this hour the kitchen would be a hive of activity. It would be best to avoid it. He pictured the plan again, concentrating on remembering where the stairways going up might be. Those, too, would be hectic, as serving staff carried food to the upper chambers.
Jaden wondered if there was some way around the main corridor that led to the kitchen. If he recalled correctly, there might be a passage between the staircase chamber and the steward’s room. He decided to make his way south in the hopes of gaining access to the latter.
After listening at the main doors to the great hall, he made his move—silently slipping into the great hall. It was a cavernous room, with enormous beams of hewn ceaon. A massive fireplace and mantle dominated the south wall, and beyond that were doorways to the north and south. The walls were covered with thick, dusty tapestries, an array of exotic weapons, and tall paintings in heavy gold-leafed frames. Jaden ignored them all and padded along the thick Myssian carpet, hugging the wall until he made it to the south passage. He listened for a moment there, then walked quickly down the corridor. The first door should lead to the steward's room.
It did.
But unfortunately, the room was occupied.