The Dagger-Key and The Lost Treasures of Kebadon

by Daniel Ferguson

  * * *

  Meanwhile the Grongels and Kyhawn walked through the city of ruins towards the temple. As deep gray clouds clustered over them, a wind came in and around them, again making eerie whispers like children crying. Kyhawn felt the sounds crawl up his legs as if ghostly snakes were coiling around him. Yet he was the only one who seemed to feel it. To shake off the feeling he spoke sharply, “You guys are barmy to think you’re going to get off this island alive—with that chest.”

  Jayden spoke as if he hadn’t heard a word Kyhawn said. “If I had a map that led to these stones, I’d keep it a secret.” He held up an orange colored stone. “I wonder if this trade school, book-reading lover lied to keep these stones for himself?”

  “He had to tell us the truth. He’s too afraid not to.” Yamm tucked the map in his pocket as they continued to follow behind Kyhawn and Malnur.

  Jayden nodded. “Yeah, we do have him frightened. And we do have a map. Yamm, you made a smart move by grabbing up that old box we left on the mountain trail.”

  “We’ll be there soon, Kyhawn.” Malnur gripped his arm. “If I were you, I wouldn’t talk to Emit the way you’ve been talking to us.”

  “You getting soft on us, Malnur?” Jayden chuckled.

  Malnur looked distressed. “You know how Emit can be when he gets impatient.”

  Yamm grinned, followed by a sneeze. He ran his shirtsleeve over his forehead, wiped the sweat off, and then wiped his nose on his cloak. “Don’t try and run, Kyhawn. You won’t get far with a dagger in your ribs.”

  A twist of anger mixed with fear lurked within Kyhawn as they entered the temple ruin. To his left he noticed an altar resting on a wide stone platform. Candles and lanterns were spread across the platform. To his right, where Zacs once sat during worship and prayer, darkness overwhelmed the light. Two silhouettes slowly emerged.

  “I see you have … him? Why have you brought him?” The voice grew angry. “Where’s that female, Alil?” The dark figures drew near the lanterns, which gave them a distorted illusion of power as the light reflected off their faces, thought Kyhawn.

  As Emit and Mekon’s dark shadows followed behind them, Yamm shoved Kyhawn to his knees. Kyhawn glared up at Emit. “You’re nothing but sea trash. I doubt you’re able to open that peg-lock chest.”

  Emit slapped him down onto the dirt floor. His orange eyes flared with anger. “Tie the land-lover to the altar,” he ordered, abruptly kicking Kyhawn in the stomach. “That’ll teach you not to speak to me in such an ill manner.”

  Although in pain, Kyhawn slowly got to his knees. Just as he started to say something, Emit once again shoved him, but this time the back of Kyhawn’s head hit the altar steps, leaving him unconscious. “Drag him to the altar,” Emit demanded. “Could be he’ll do after all.” He gazed at them. “But tell me, what happened to Alil?” He paused, and ran his finger over his mustache. He grinned, “Was she too much for you?”

  Jayden defended his mates. “We apologize, Emit. But this one was so easy to capture. You said yourself he was also a dear friend of that officer of the law, Washburrn.”

  Healcox, an older hairless Zac dressed in fancy garments, ripped Kyhawn’s shirt open, a crazy look in his eyes. “I want to cut out Washburrn’s liver and eat it raw.” He made a fist and ran it over Kyhawn’s upper body.

  Kyhawn came to and found himself surrounded by Grongels. His dark orange cloak draped the stone altar with his shirt torn wide open.

  “You don’t look so tough now,” Yamm grinned.

  “Let’s torture him.” Jayden gave Kyhawn a sinister smile while laughing with the others at his menacing remark.

  Kyhawn grunted as he struggled to free himself.

  “If it weren’t for that chest, I’d skin you alive.” Emit peered into Kyhawn’s large brown eyes. He sat on the edge of the altar and rubbed his fingers up and down Kyhawn’s body. Kyhawn jerked madly. Emit licked his fingers. “You might taste pretty darn good after a few hours over an open flame.”

  “You’re sick,” Kyhawn grunted. “You’re just plain sick.”

  Emit grabbed Kyhawn’s shirt collar, pulled his head upward, and spit in his face. He jumped to his feet and started to walk away, but stopped and looked at Malnur. “Watch him,” he demanded. “Yamm, Jayden—get out there and watch for Washburrn—and anyone else who might be with him. I’ve given him twenty-four hours. We keep watch until them. And if you see anyone else with him, you’re welcome to use them for target practice.”

  Emit then went to the cellar, the place where they had been hiding off and on throughout their stay. As Mekon followed his leader he wished the next Double-Sun-Day were three months away instead of only a week. These were the hottest days of the year, the only ones in which a Kebadon ritual could be performed. Healcox and Namferic followed closely behind them.

  And although Kyhawn felt somewhat relieved they departed the room with only Malnur to keep an eye on him, he was frightened. He stared at the knots binding him. With a sad look in his eyes, he then stared at what was left of the ancient ceiling. A teardrop slowly ran down the side of his face. As he turned his head, his tear fell onto the altar.

  At that very moment Washburrn was following the path he thought they might have taken to the temple ruin. We’ve searched that temple ruin before. If only Dylc hadn’t hurt his leg the other day. He might still be alive. We might have discovered Emit’s hideout…and possibly had stopped this from happening. He thought as he observed freshly cut branches and vines. And on the ground before him were footprints. He crouched, and with his glasses on he noticed that some of the footprints were most likely Kyhawn’s. He placed a hand on a footprint and somehow he was able to feel his young friend’s sadness. He stood taking one last look at the vines. These vines, they’re as ancient as those ruins, he thought as he swung his sword cutting another vine. I should be coming up on the main trail soon.

  Earron and Coita discreetly followed close behind.

  When Washburrn reached the main trail, he stopped to pull a thorn from his leather boot, glanced down the trail, and took a second look. He wasn’t surprised when he laid eyes on the old box. When he knelt to gather the contents that had fallen out, all he could see in his mind’s eye was Kyhawn’s innocent face. A face he’d always remember. Sandy blond hair that hung slightly over his dark brown eyes, and the way he pressed his hand over his narrow chin when he was in deep thought. Washburrn took a deep breath as he realized the map of the island and the colored stones were missing. He looked around. I can understand their taking the stones, but a map of this island? He set the box aside and continued on up the trail.

  Earron eased a branch aside to get a better view of Washburrn. “The box,” Earron whispered as he picked it up and gave it to Coita.

  “What do you think?” Coita sat next to him, one hand on the box. “Do you think Kyhawn had to tell them about our cabacs?”

  “Let’s hope not.” Earron stared at the box. “We’ll hide them again by burying them near the beach tomorrow.”

  Coita rummaged through the box. “The stones are missing. The map of the island isn’t in here either.” He frowned. “But the invisible map and the other two pieces of parchment are here. The navigating tools are also here. And this old feather quill, but no stones.”

  “Who cares? We have the ones in our cabacs. But now we better get going before we lose Washburrn.” Earron adjusted his sword and hid the box under some foliage. He quickly stuck a few sticks in the ground to mark the spot.

  Coita peered ahead. “He’s gone off the main trail.”

  “Let’s hurry.” Earron took Coita by the shoulder.

  “Well, terrific. What do you kids think you’re doing?” Washburrn stood behind them. “Do you truly think following me is going to help matters?”

  “Yeah we do, sir.” Earron stood his ground. “And we’re not kids. What if something was to happen to you? What if they try to kill both you and Kyhawn after you give them that chest? W
e’ve known Kyhawn a lot longer then you. And you can’t do anything to stop us,” he argued, giving Coita a nudge.

  “Yeah, and what are you doing sneaking up on us?”

  “You’re lucky it was me and not one of those lowlifes up there, who would like nothing better but to have you two for a midnight snack.” He glared. “Do me a favor, and go to camp. Take the box back with you.”

  Earron’s dark orange eyes gave him a disagreeable look.

  “Earron, there’s no doubt some day you might make a first-rate law officer. But for now the best thing you two can do for Kyhawn is to let me show up alone. You were there. The note clearly stated that I show up alone. And I intend to honor it.” Washburrn knelt before them. “I’ve been in far more dangerous situations than this.” He gave them a reassuring look as he pressed his hands against his knees. “Now please, do as I say and return to camp.”

  Coita whispered into Earron’s ear, “Could be he’s right. He was a detective.”

  Earron looked straight into Washburrn’s eyes. “First tell us what your plan is, and why you don’t need us.”

  Washburrn shook his head. “I don’t have time to explain. The longer we stay here debating, the more time they’ll have alone with Kyhawn.”

  More concerned for Kyhawn than words could express, Earron peered again into Washburrn’s eyes. “Promise us one thing.”

  “Promise you …?”

  Earron tried to look hopeful. “Make sure you bring him down the mountain unharmed. And Washburrn?”

  “What is it now?”

  Earron’s round face was filled with respect. “Ko-la-ton e-moss-lon.” He bowed.

  Washburrn cracked a thin smile. “And may the luck of the gods be with you as well,” he said as he turned to continue up the trail.

  “We hope your plan works,” Coita said softly as he turned to Earron, who was watching the backside of Washburrn. Coita clapped him on the shoulder, “We should do as he says.” Moments later they began their way down the mountain on the main trail. And about half way down Coita stopped. “I need to rest,” he complained as he sat on a root crossing the rocky dirt trail and rubbed his foot.

  Earron stood beside him somewhat impatient, but he understood. “We have to tell the others. It’s suicide, him going up there alone. We’ll tell the ones on guard duty first.”

  “You mean the ones we snuck by earlier?”

  “Those two,” Earron said. “Who else?”

  Coita shrugged. “What am I suppose to do—read your mind?”