He began making his way through the edge of the treeline toward the tents. Ever cautious to avoid making noise and wake the slumbering soldiers, he took one careful step after another.
Inside, he felt the rush of adrenalin he always felt at times like these. The excitement, the challenge of pitting one’s skill against an opponent’s, this was what kept many a thief on the Shadowed Path. At times such as this, Bart never felt more alive.
The sleeping men remained undisturbed throughout his trek to the tents. When at last he arrived, he paused to again scan the slumbering forms for any who may be stirring. Not seeing any, he turned his attention back to the tent wherein lay the key. All was quiet. Even the nocturnal creatures of the forest seemed stilled, as if afraid to awaken those in the camp.
Moving from the trees, Bart quickly made his way to the tent. Once at the tent flap, he placed his ear against it and heard soft snores emanating from within. Putting his hand to the tent flap, he paused as he again scanned the camp to assure himself all remained asleep. Then, pulling the flap slowly back, he entered.
As he passed inside and the tent flap settled back to its closed position, Bart paused a moment to allow his eyes time to regain their night vision. Shadows within the tent gradually grew clearer, the form on the cot now unmistakably that of Lord Kueryn, the River Man. Next to him on the ground rested the small chest containing the key segment.
His eyes went again to Lord Kueryn. The details of his face were mostly hidden by the darkness within the tent. But that his eyes were closed in sleep was apparent. Moving toward the chest, Bart stepped lightly. So cautiously and slowly did he move, that it was unlikely he even disturbed the air within the tent by his passing.
Coming to stand before the chest, Bart bent over and picked it up. He’ll worry about picking the lock and removing the key segment later. Standing up, he turned his eyes to the still form of Lord Kueryn. Pausing a moment, he waited until another soft snore issued forth before returning to the tent flap.
Once there, he parted it minutely and peered out. The sleeping forms scattered about the camp remained motionless, not a sound other than snores could be heard. Opening the tent flap wider, he passed through to the outside.
Stepping quickly with the chest tucked under his arm, he crossed over to the treeline and entered. After moving several feet into the trees, he paused and glanced back at the quiet camp that was still unaware a visitor had come and gone. Smiling to himself in satisfaction, he began working his way back to where Chyfe was waiting.
“My lord!” a voice cried, snapping Lord Kueryn out of a deep sleep. He recognized it as his magic user Geffen’s. The urgency in Geffen’s voice brought him fully awake.
“Enter,” he said as he came to a sitting position on the edge of his cot.
The tent flap was thrown open and Geffen came in with lords Hurrin and Geop, both long time allies in his rise to Warlord. “My lord,” he said, “the sentries were found dead.”
“What?” exclaimed Lord Kueryn. Immediately, his eyes darted to where he had set the chest containing the golden item that he was certain was somehow related to the King. Anger suffused him and rage threatened to snatch his reason. “It’s gone!” he shouted. Coming to his feet, he turned eyes red with fury toward the two lords.
They didn’t need him to explain what he was talking about. All three saw that the chest was no longer within his tent. “But…” began Lord Geop when he was cut off by Lord Kueryn.
“But what?” he demanded. “Are my men so inept, that they allowed someone to enter my tent? While I was sleeping?” The thought that he could have been killed was not lost on them.
Lord Hurrin turned toward Geffen. “They must have used magic,” he stated.
“Wards were in place to detect such,” countered Geffen. “None were triggered.”
Pushing his way through the others, Lord Kueryn exited the tent. Outside, the mood was somber and guarded. His men couldn’t have avoided overhearing the heated exchange that took place within the tent. None dared meet their lord’s eyes.
Not far from where he stood, two bodies lay near one of the campfires. To his shock, one was Jien, a tracker that was renowned for his skills in the forest. For him to be killed was almost beyond belief. One of his men knelt next to the two bodies. Bent over Jien, he had his shirt open and was examining a wound. He heard his lord’s approach and glanced back over his shoulder. “My lord,” he said then pointed to an area on Jien’s left shoulder that was blackened, “he was struck by a poisoned dart.” Indicating the man lying next to him, he added. “As was he.”
“A dart?” asked Geffen. Without thinking, his hand went to the sight of where he too had been struck by a dart.
The man nodded.
“Search the area!” commanded Lord Geop. “He couldn’t have gone far.”
“I want the ones responsible for this found and brought to me,” Lord Kueryn exclaimed. As his men erupted into a flurry of activity, he turned back to Geffen. “Can you find them?” he asked.
Reaching into his robes, Geffen produced the dart that had struck him back in Hylith. “If this is the work of the same man,” he replied, “I can find him.” Then casting a spell, the dart rotated in his hand and pointed back toward the southeast. Glancing at his lord, he nodded.
Before Lord Kueryn could order the pursuit, Lord Hurrin came before him and said, “We dare not follow. The attack is soon to be underway and we would never be able to make it through on the eastern side of the mountains. All of Byrdlon will rally to their defense!” Lord Kueryn’s anger radiated like a palpable presence. “We must adhere to the plan my lord.” Praying that reason would win out, Lord Hurrin held his ground.
Many years ago when Lord Kueryn was on the verge of manhood, he had braved the Wrath of Hennon at the height of its fury. He never talked of the experience, other than that he had barely made it through alive.
His small canoe had been smashed to pieces against the rocks and his head had been swept into another, rendering him unconscious. He awoke sometime later in the shallows on the riverbank. If he hadn’t been lying on his back, he surely would have drowned.
Not far from where he had been washed ashore sat a cave. Night was falling and he took shelter there until the following morning when he would return home. It was after he had a fire going that he noticed its light was being reflected by something in the back of the cave. Intrigued, he went and discovered that what had reflected the light, was a single, copper coin. Half buried in dirt, it bore the symbol of the King. Further searching uncovered a total of a dozen of the coins, five copper and seven silver.
It wasn’t until later when he had been named Warlord of the Orack Tribe that he had the wherewithal to return to the cave and do some serious excavation. That was when they discovered the ancient, underground catacomb.
Several items of note had been found, most notably the golden key segment. Though he didn’t know what it was, he knew it was a significant find. The removal of the treasures contained within the catacomb proceeded at a steady pace for awhile.
Then, another room was unearthed that shed light on the golden object. In the room was a mural depicting men standing in front of a sigil inscribed wall. A man in robes stood just before the wall and held forth a golden torc from which emanated beams of light. When the key segment was compared to the torc in the mural, it was concluded that it was indeed part of it.
That’s when the major portion of the excavation began. Everything but the bones of the dead was to be removed and gone through in the hopes of finding the rest of the torc depicted in the mural.
Then not too long ago, rumors began to reach Lord Kueryn’s ear that a major cache of coins had been found. A shepherd and a miller’s son had somehow discovered a large quantity of the King’s coins. Other rumors of the shepherd and miller came saying that they had located the King’s Horde.
It didn’t take long before he came to believe that the sigil inscribed wall depicted in the mural was the entranc
e to the long lost King’s Horde. Riders were dispatched into Byrdlon to discover if what he had heard was true. None came back with anything definite, just a reiteration of the rumors he already knew.
Now, someone had come and taken the segment of the torc. In his heart he knew it could only be the shepherd and the miller’s son. One piece of information one of the riders brought back inferred that they had the help of a thief and an inexperienced magic user. Their thief must have been the one to infiltrate his camp and make off with it.
Rage threatened to take his reason as he thought again of the theft. Only by a sheer force of will did he master it and not give in to the need for immediate violence. Turning to Lord Hurrin, he nodded. “Yes, continue as we have.”
From the south, a rider came racing toward the camp. Lord Kueryn turned and saw the rider bearing the chest that had been taken. “You found them?” he demanded. Coming forward, he met the rider and took possession of the chest. It was still closed.
“No my lord,” the rider replied as Lord Kueryn removed a key and placed it in the chest’s lock. “Their camp was found deserted a mile to the south.”
Turning the key, he unlocked the chest and opened it. The golden key segment was not within. Rage again enveloped him and he took it out on the chest, smashing it to the ground.
“Lord Hurrin,” the River Man said as he turned to his long time ally. “Send riders after them. I want to know where they go and with whom they speak.”
“As you wish,” Lord Hurrin replied. Soon, four riders were heading south in pursuit. “I believe these are the same people who fled Hylith, and caused so much damage in Tryn.”
Lord Kueryn turned a glaring eye on Lord Hurrin. “You don’t have to tell me that which I already know,” he said. “I want everyone mounted. The sooner we’re at the lake, the sooner we’ll be through the mountains.”
Then, he vowed to himself, we shall find those who stole this and extract our revenge. But not until they divulge all they know about the King’s Horde!
As soon as they had returned from stealing the key segment, Bart opened the chest and removed the key. Riyan was all for reuniting the four segments right then and there but Kevik advised against it.
“We are not certain what effect such an action will have,” he replied. “And with a magic user not more than a mile away…”
“I agree,” Bart said. “We’ll keep this one separated from the others until we reach somewhere less dangerous.” Opening his pack, Bart placed the fourth key segment within. He glanced to Riyan and saw him reluctantly nod in agreement. “Now, let’s get out of here before they discover it’s gone.” Swinging up into the saddle, he turned his horse to the south and rode off.
They continued southward along the river throughout the remainder of the night. When dawn arrived, they took a short break to rest the horses before once again returning to the saddle. Bart pushed them hard as he knew pursuit wouldn’t be far behind. The River Man would never allow such an affront to go unanswered.
When they reached the village later that afternoon, they took the road headed east. From Riyan’s map, they knew it led to Kendruck. From there it would be clear all the way home to Quillim.
Later that afternoon, on the shores of a lake nestled high in the Tinderlock Mountains, smoke rose from a campfire. A single tent sat not far away and the area had the look of having been occupied for several days. One man sat on a log near the campfire, smoking his pipe, while another paced about in growing impatience.
“They should be here by now,” the pacing man stated. Pausing, he glanced again to the south.
“Relax,” the other man said. “They’ll be here when they do.”
The pacing man glared at the other. He hated to wait on people. When he took this job, it was with the clear understanding that he wouldn’t have to be here at the lake for more than two days. It’s now been four. Aside from the cold and lack of comfortable accommodations, his companion wasn’t the most stimulating person when it came to conversation. A mountain trapper hired for his knowledge of the Tinderlock Mountains, Burdy was the one to get them over to the north side with as little difficulty as possible.
Burdy on the other hand could happily sit and wait for days, weeks if necessary. He was in his element. When he was approached about leading a group over the mountains, he had been more than happy to oblige. After all, winter wasn’t the best time for trapping.
Smoking his pipe, Burdy watched as Erz paced. Inwardly he grinned at the man’s discomfort. He had little patience for those in a hurry. When his trained eye noticed riders coming from the south, he was almost disappointed. A couple more days and Erz would have been livid, instead of just annoyed. Oh well, can’t have everything.
“I think you’re friends have arrived,” Burdy told Erz, pointing to the approaching riders.
“What?” exclaimed Erz. Turning toward the direction Burdy indicated, he saw the riders coming. “About time,” he murmured under his breath as he waited to meet them.
When the riders drew near, Erz stepped forward and said, “Welcome milord.”
The lead rider glanced over to where the trapper was seated on the log. “Is that him?” he asked.
“Yes milord,” Erz replied. “He’ll see us over the mountains.”
Lord Kueryn nodded and said, “Excellent.”
Chapter Thirty-One
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While passing through Kendruck, they heard rumors about a large force of Tribesmen who were laying siege to Yerith Keep. Reinforcements from both Duke Yoric and Duke Knor were converging on the battle. Apparently Yerith Keep had been the target for the large force they had discovered near Sterrith. Why they chose to attack such a fortified place was a question many were asking. It didn’t make sense.
At the junction north of Kendruck, they took the road heading northeast and continued for the remainder of the day. When night began drawing nigh, they stopped at one of the roadside inns.
Everyone gathered in Riyan’s room where the four segments were taken out and laid upon the table. Riyan laid his three segments upon the table first, making sure to leave a few inches between them. Then Bart took his out and placed it on the table before him.
“What should we do now?” Riyan asked Kevik. Being the resident expert on all things magical, they turned to him for advice on the best way to bring the segments together.
Kevik shrugged. “I’ve thought about this moment quite a bit over the last few weeks,” he replied. “To be honest, I don’t know. It all depends on the magic contained within the segments. If we bring them together and reform the circle, they may fuse together and become one, or they may not.”
“Would there be any possibility of harmful effects?” asked Bart.
Again, Kevik shrugged. “I just don’t know. Though, I think that unlikely.”
The companions stared at the four segments, each contemplating the best course of action.
Riyan reached for the segment lying closest to him. “The key must be reforged if it is to open the Horde,” he said. “Right?” He glanced to Bart and Kevik who both nodded.
“Based on the description of the wall you gave me,” Kevik offered, “it would have to be.”
“Alright then,” said Riyan as he placed two fingers upon the segment. He looked to Bart, Kevik, and Chad who each took hold of one of the others. “Now,” said Riyan, “we’ll move them all closer together at the same time.”
“Agreed,” said Bart. Each then began pushing their segment inward as they slowly brought together what had been apart for over a thousand years.
Seth watched as the four segments were brought closer together. “This may not accomplish anything at all,” he said. Glancing to his brother, he saw that Soth’s full attention was focused on the segments moving ever closer toward each other.
Riyan heard his comment and ignored it. Nervousness grew as his segment edged closer to reforming the circle. Will this work? he asked himself. Continuing to move the segme
nt forward, he brought it into contact with Chad’s and Kevik’s. Then Bart moved his in line with the others. The circle was formed.
Each held their breath in anticipation. But nothing happened.
“What…?” began Seth, when all of a sudden a pulse of golden light flared from the circular key.
The unexpected flash startled Riyan and he tried to draw his hand back, but discovered he couldn’t remove his fingers from the segment he touched. Fear welled up from within. Beside him, the others struggled in their own attempts to free themselves.
“I can’t let go!” cried Chad, panic lacing his words.
Seth came to Riyan and gripped him around the chest. Then he tried to pull him back with all his might.
“Stop!” Riyan yelled as Seth’s efforts were putting great strain on the joints of his hand. “You’re tearing my fingers off!”
Letting go, Seth watched in worry as the circular key began pulsating with a golden light.
“Kevik,” Bart asked, “what should we do?”
Before he could respond, a wave of energy seemed to flow slowly outward from the key. Each of the four who were in contact with the key could feel it like a palpable presence as it passed through them.
“What’s going on?” Riyan shouted.
Kevik shook his head. “I don’t know,” he replied.
Then the outpouring wave of energy came to a stop. For a brief moment, it felt as if the world had come to a grinding halt. Still unable to disengage from the key, the four companions glanced with uncertainty at the others.
Breaths were held, none dared move or disturb the quiet in anticipation of what may come next. Then the wave of energy that had poured from the key suddenly snapped back with painful results. As it passed back through Riyan, it felt as if it tore something away. Crying out with pain, the cry suddenly intensified when the segment of the key he touched grew red hot. The smell of charred flesh permeated the room as the flesh of those fingers touching the key was burnt.
Quest's End: The Broken Key #3 Page 43