Quest's End: The Broken Key #3

by Brian S. Pratt

  The boat fell almost vertically for ten feet before striking the water again. The impact was fierce and Chyfe lost his grip on his oar. Flying out of his hands, the oar was soon lost to the river.

  “Bart!” Chyfe yelled as he twisted around. He didn’t need any words, his empty hands said everything.

  Bart gave him the oar he’d been using for a rudder. They had to have two working in tandem in the middle or they would never remain pointed downstream.

  Still riding massive swells that threatened to capsize them, their boat followed the river as it made its way around a bend. That’s when they saw the waterfall appear on their left.

  Easily a hundred feet wide and fifty feet high, there was an incredible amount of water pouring down. This had to be the other river they had been expecting. The river they were upon flowed directly beneath the cascading mass as the two rivers merged. Easily half the surface of their river was being engulfed by the falling water. The other half was a churning nightmare.

  “Oh my god!” exclaimed Riyan when he saw it. There was nowhere for them to go but straight toward it.

  “This must be the Wrath of Hennon!” shouted Kevik.

  Now impotent without his oar, Bart could only watch as the river pulled them ever closer. In the middle of the boat, Chyfe and Soth worked to keep them pointed in the right direction. “To the right,” he shouted to the rowers. “Keep us out of the falling water!”

  Chyfe nodded. He and Soth struggled to keep them straight and away from the worst of the swells, while at the same time edging their boat further to the right.

  “Faster!” shouted Bart as their progress to the right wasn’t moving along quick enough. “If that water hits us we’re dead!”

  Soth and Chyfe rowed as if their lives depended on it, which it most likely did. As they rushed headlong toward the cascading water, so too did the boat work its way slowly to the right.

  Bart shouted encouragement to them but it was lost in the now deafening roar of the falls. So intense was the sound that it felt as if it was reverberating through to their core.

  The water level within the boat was now becoming dangerously high. Everyone but the rowers began using their hands to bail. It seemed that for every bit they removed, even more would pour in as the next swell rolled over them.

  Rowers rowed and bailers bailed as they approached the base of the falls. The churning mass of water threatened to suck them beneath the cascading water. It was all Soth and Chyfe could do to keep them out of it.

  In and out, out and in, went the oars until their arms screamed with pain. But they refused to give into it, for to give in was death. The river rushed along at the base of the falls, the current aiding them in escaping a watery death. Then before they knew it, they were past, but not out of the woods yet. Ahead lay a last series of cascades and drops before it was over.

  “A little further and we’re home free!” shouted Riyan.

  Sucked along by the current, their boat raced into a whitewater hell.

  Wham!

  Their boat was struck by a swell causing it to lurch to the side. Then it felt like they were airborne as they went over a drop-off.

  Wham! Crack!

  Hitting the water with a jarring impact, another of the boards cracked. “Come on,” Bart said to the boat. “Hold together a little longer.”

  “Rock ahead!” yelled Seth.

  “To the right!” shouted Riyan. But the current was too strong and they were taken to the left.

  Wham!

  They slammed into the rock and the front of their boat splintered away. Then the current took them over another drop-off.

  Wham!

  The boat struck another rock and this time it completely disintegrated. Kevik tried to dispel the goo holding them to the boat but the impact knocked the wind from him. Before he could get himself under control again, the section of boat to which he was attached began dragging him under.

  Panic threatened to take his reason from him but he somehow managed to get it under control. Speaking the words beneath the water, he dispelled the goo. As soon as the goo disappeared, he ceased being dragged under and began kicking for the surface. In the churning water it was hard for him to know which way was up. Before he could reach the surface, the current slammed him into a rock.

  The sudden impact startled him and he lost his grip on his staff. He hadn’t even realized he still held it until it left his fingers. Now with both hands free, he gripped the rock and worked his way to the surface. Despite the pulling current threatening to drag him back into its icy grip, he managed to cling to the rock and broke free to fresh air.

  Coughing and gagging, he looked around but couldn’t see or hear anyone else. “Riyan!” he cried out. “Bart!” But the only sound he could hear was the roar of the water. Keeping a firm grip on its irregular surface, he hung on for dear life as he tried to regain some of his strength.

  After a short time, his pulse quieted down and he was able to think rationally once again. The chattering of his teeth and the numbness of his limbs told him he couldn’t afford to remain in the freezing water any longer. He tried to maneuver so he could see around the rock to the rest of the river, but his frozen fingers lost their grip and the current sucked him away.

  He fought the current, somehow managing to keep his head above water. Time and again swells smashed into him and drove him under only to again regain the surface a moment later.

  Then an approaching shadow caught his eye, it was a fallen tree lying jammed between two rocks just above the waterline. As he neared, he reached out and snagged one of its limbs. Coming to a stop, he fought the current as it tried to dislodge his grip and drag him further downriver.

  The cold water was leeching the strength from him quickly. Gasping against the bite of the cold, he looked around at his predicament. Still a third of the way from shore, it was going to be a tough swim to reach it.

  “Riyan!” he hollered. Then after a short pause to hear a reply, he called, “Bart!” When no answer was forthcoming, he realized he was on his own. Glancing upriver from whence they came, he saw the waterfall and the turbulent waters where it plunged into the river. It was a miracle he still lived.

  The thought that perhaps he was the only one to have made it attempted to push its way into his mind but he quickly squelched it. He wasn’t going to allow himself to ruminate about such things until he found proof to back it up.

  He took only a few moments to steel himself against the struggle that was to come, then with a deep breath, he let go of the branch. Immediately, the water dragged him away.

  Kicking and splashing, he worked frantically to get to the shore. Never having had much experience with water, his efforts were only slowly bringing him closer. Foot by foot, he worked his way ever closer to the shore as the water continued to take him further down the canyon.

  “Kevik!”

  Hearing his name being called, he looked up and saw Riyan and Bart running along the water’s edge on the west bank. Riyan was staring at him and waving his arms as he again cried out, “Kevik!”

  He was not alone! With strength renewed, he put more effort into his struggle for the shore. Though he was kicking and using his arms with great determination, it didn’t seem like he was getting any closer.

  Then all of a sudden, his legs struck a submerged rock. Panic seized him at the unexpected contact, but it was short lived. He was quick to realize that the submerged rock rested on the bed of the river and that the depth of the water was no longer over his head. Splashing was heard as Bart and Riyan raced through the water to him.

  “Thank the gods you’re alive,” Riyan said as he reached him. Taking hold of his arm, he helped the magic user to his feet.

  “Glad you thought to get rid of the goo,” commented Bart. “We would surely have drowned, attached to the shattered remains of the boat as we were.”

  Kevik only nodded as he leaned heavily on Riyan’s shoulder. Walking with him toward the shoreline, he glanced around.
“Where are the others?” he asked.

  “We don’t know,” replied Riyan. Then he noticed the anguished look on Kevik’s face. “But don’t worry, I’m sure they’ll turn up.”

  “Hmm?” asked Kevik as he turned to look at Riyan. “Oh, it’s not that. I lost my staff.”

  Upon hearing that, Bart began scanning the river and the debris washed up on its shore. There was no sign of Kevik’s staff.

  “First my master’s,” moaned Kevik. “Now this. Not much of a magic user am I?”

  “Hey!” exclaimed Riyan. “Stop that right now! I will not hear such things from one who has saved our lives time and time again. If not for your magic, we never would have walked out of Algoth alive.” When Kevik failed to meet his eyes, he placed his hand under his chin turned his face toward him. With a stare saying he’ll brook no argument, Riyan said, “You are a great magic user.”

  Bart clapped him on the back. “That you are,” he agreed.

  Tears almost began welling up in his eyes at the words his friends were saying. Unable to speak, he nodded in acknowledgement.

  “Now,” Bart said, “let’s find the others.” With that, the three friends began heading downriver.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  __________________________

  Not far from where they rescued Kevik, they found Chyfe. His body was hung up amidst a pile of driftwood and he looked for all the world like he was dead. Bart raced forward calling his name but Chyfe gave no response. Thinking the worse, he was surprised to find him still alive. His forehead sported a large knot from where he must have struck a rock on his pell-mell journey down the river.

  “Riyan!” Bart yelled as he began pulling him from the driftwood, “I need your help.”

  Leaving a still shaky Kevik behind, Riyan rushed to help.

  “He’s still alive,” Bart said as he joined him. He gently turned Chyfe’s head toward Riyan. When Riyan saw the knot, he nodded. They soon had him free and brought back to where Kevik was sitting on the shore.

  “Do you still have the healing gem?” asked Bart.

  Kevik checked his pouch and nodded when he found it.

  “Good,” replied Bart. “Stay here with him and fix him up. Riyan and I will continue to hunt for the others.”

  Nodding, Kevik placed the gem on Chyfe’s forehead. The gem’s light shone forth and the healing began.

  “Two down, three to go,” commented Riyan.

  “We’ll find them,” Bart assured him. Silently he added that he hoped they’d find them alive. He didn’t want to add to whatever fears Riyan already held.

  “Chad!” Riyan hollered.

  “Seth, Soth!” Bart yelled as they raced down the shoreline.

  The river continued its journey down the canyon, steadily growing calmer and quieter. Further ahead, they saw where the canyon took an abrupt turn to the right and passed from sight.

  “Chad! Where are you?” Riyan’s voice cried out as he sought his friend. Looking not only on this side of the river but the other, he grew more worried as time progressed.

  “Riyan!”

  Riyan came to a sudden stop when he heard Chad’s voice. He scanned the area but couldn’t find him.

  Bart gripped his shoulder with one hand as he pointed across the river with the other. “There he is.”

  Following Bart’s direction, Riyan looked toward a sandbar on the other side of the river. He saw Chad waving his arms frantically. Standing as he was before a pile of driftwood, he was hard to make out.

  “Are you okay?” Riyan shouted across the water.

  “Yes,” he replied. “Though I think my ankle is twisted.”

  “Stay there,” Riyan hollered. “We’ll get you.” He saw Chad wave in acknowledgment.

  “How do you propose we do that?” asked Bart.

  Riyan glanced around at all the driftwood on the beach. “Make a raft and paddle our way over,” he said.

  “Think you can do that?” Bart asked.

  Nodding, Riyan replied, “May take a bit, but yeah.” He and Chad used to construct rafts and float out upon the lakes near Quillim during the summer. What he had to work with here wasn’t much different than the materials they used back then.

  “Alright,” he said. “You work on getting to him and I’ll try to find the twins.”

  “Good luck,” Riyan said.

  “You too,” replied Bart. Riyan was beginning to gather pieces of driftwood as he headed toward the bend in the river. There, the wall of the canyon jutted out to within a few yards of the water.

  Calling the names of the twins, he ran along the shore. No answer was forthcoming. Upon reaching where the river began to pass around the bend, he was about to shout again when he heard voices coming from around the other side of the bend. Relief washed over him briefly before he realized the voices were not those of Seth and Soth.

  Immediately, he slowed and proceeded with much greater caution. He paused just a moment as he removed the rolled leather containing his darts from his pack and placed them inside his shirt. Once they were in their familiar position, he again started toward the bend.

  “…do with them?” a voice asked.

  Bart slowed to a crawl as he reached the canyon wall.

  “Send both of them up to the top,” another said.

  Both of them? Bart didn’t like the sound of that.

  Other voices began speaking as well, all of which Bart was unable to sufficiently make out. From the sound of it, the twins had been caught. But by whom? Bart wasn’t about to take any chances. He pressed his back against the side of the canyon and removed the rolled leather containing his darts.

  “…back to camp…”

  “You heard the…”

  Snippets of conversation came from around the bend, then they began to grow quieter. It was almost as if they were moving away.

  Bart quickly doctored his six remaining darts. One he kept in his right hand, three in his left. The other two were nestled loosely in the middle of the rolled leather once he had returned it to his shirt. He was about to start moving around the bend when the unmistakable sound of footsteps came from the other side. It sounded like two individuals.

  Bart pressed himself against the wall again and waited.

  “Can’t believe anyone would be dumb enough to ride the Wrath,” one voice stated.

  “There’re always those who think they can’t die,” another said.

  Bart listened as the duo made their way ever closer to where he stood. “Think they’re from Tryn?” the first one asked.

  “Maybe,” replied the second. “They’re not wearing Orack’s colors though.”

  If Bart had any doubts the twins were in these men’s hands, that settled it. Standing with dart in hand, Bart watched as their shadows appeared. Then when the first of the two men appeared from around the bend, Bart stepped away from the wall.

  The two men stopped in surprise just as one was hit with Bart’s dart square in the chest. Before the second had a chance to react, he too was struck. The poison on the darts, entering their body so close to their hearts as it did, quickly stopped its beating. Without a word, both men staggered then fell to the ground, dead.

  Bart had another dart in hand as he hurried toward them. His eyes scanned the point from which they appeared to see if any more were on their way, but found the two men to be alone. Upon reaching their side, he retrieved his two darts and quickly redoctored them.

  The two men weren’t soldiers. Rather, they wore civilian clothes and were very dirty. When Bart checked their pockets, he discovered that each of them carried a number of small candles. Curious. Once his darts were again ready for battle, he left the two men behind and continued to slowly make his way around the bend.

  He didn’t have far to go before the canyon opened up before him. He saw a group of eight men walking away from him on the beach. Six were armed, and in the middle walked Seth and Soth. They were heading to a camp of sorts set against the wall of the canyon. In and around the
tents of the camp were another half score men.

  Motion on the wall of the canyon caught his eye. A man was making his way down a series of steps that had been crudely cut into the canyon’s wall. Another below the first had a large box or crate strapped to his back as he made his way up. The steps progressed from the top all the way down where they came out near the rear of the tents.

  But that was not the most interesting feature of this area that drew Bart’s attention. Not far from the camp and a hundred feet above the canyon floor sat a dark opening in the side of the canyon. Near it, stacked in a haphazard manner, were crates similar to the one the man on the steps carried. More of the crates were stacked near the base of the steps leading to the top of the cliff.

  Unable to give the area more than a passing glance, his gaze was soon back on the group with the twins. He watched as they brought Seth and Soth to one of the tents. There they directed them to enter. Once they were in, the tent flap was closed and two men were posted as sentries outside.

  Bart had seen enough. Moving back to the two dead men, he dragged their bodies over to a pile of driftwood and hid them as best he could. Then he hurried back upriver to Riyan and the others.

  He found Riyan some distance further upriver than where he had left him. He was beginning to push his makeshift raft into the water to cross over to Chad. The conglomeration of intertwined branches and narrow logs didn’t look like it would work. But when he pushed it out onto the surface of the water, it floated and remained together.

  Hearing Bart’s rapid approach, Riyan stopped and glanced in his direction. He knew something was wrong as the twins weren’t with him. Keeping a hold on his raft to prevent the river from taking it, he asked, “What’s wrong?”

  “We’ve got trouble,” Bart said. He then gave Riyan the gist of the situation. When he finished, he turned his attention downstream to where Chad sat on the other side of the river. From where Riyan had chosen to enter the water, the current should carry him downriver just fast enough for him to land close to Chad’s position. A hundred yards further downriver was the bend around which lies the camp where Seth and Soth were being held.