The Broken Key (02) - Hunter of the Horde

by Brian S. Pratt

  The tavern was down the street past one of the woodworking shops and the chandlers.

  Light came from the windows and raucous laughter spilled through the doorway every time someone passed through. Outside of The Dunderdells was an old chap sitting against the wall by the door. When he saw Bart approaching, he held his hand out, begging for a coin.

  Bart slowed his steps as he looked the old man over. From his time in Wardean, he could readily tell if the beggars were begging because they had to, or was someone out to cage a few extra coins. This old man was of the former. It looked like half of his right leg was missing and he had an overall miserable appearance. Bart dug into his pouch and flipped him a silver.

  When the man caught it, he was surprised at the type of coin he had received. The coin quickly disappeared into his ragged shirt. He nodded his head and mumbled,

  “Thanks.”

  “No problem old timer,” Bart said. He didn’t mind giving to those who genuinely needed it. But he would just as soon spit on those who did it just for the money as it took coins away from those whose survival depended on the coins they took in.

  He reached the door and pushed it open. The noise inside rolled over him like a wave.

  The place was packed and he was rather unhappy that the only spot available was on one of the stools at the bar. He didn’t like that for two reasons. First of all, nine times out of ten you’re sitting with your back to the room which makes you vulnerable. Secondly, and from the looks of where the open stool was sitting it’s true tonight as well, you’re usually crammed in between two others.

  Having little choice, he went over and took his seat between a couple on his right and a lone drunk on his left. Hardly the best situation.

  “What can I get for you?”

  He looked up at the large man behind the counter. Not very tall but built muscularly and had a look that said he wasn’t about to tolerate any sort of misbehaving. “An ale would be nice,” Bart said.

  The man was quick to place a foaming mug before him. Bart laid down two coppers and the man took the coins. As he began sipping his drink, he turned and gazed out over the people at the tables. He could tell these were primarily locals. Off to one side there was a group of seven older men sitting around a large table. One of them had to be Durik.

  All of a sudden, his arm was jostled by the drunk on his left and half of his remaining ale went sloshing to the floor.

  “Shory ‘bout that, ol’ chap,” the drunk next to him said.

  Bart gave him a dirty look but held his tongue.

  “Let ol’ Bunn buys you anuter,” the drunk said, slurring his words.

  “That won’t be necessary,” Bart assured him.

  Then he felt the drunk’s arm go around his neck. “You’re a nice enough fella,” ol’

  Bunn said.

  “Yes, yes, yes,” Bart said as he worked to disengage himself from the drunk.

  “Is this guy bothering you?”

  Bart turned to tell the barkeep that he could handle this when he saw that the barkeep had been addressing ol’ Bunn.

  “Naw,” ol’ Bunn replied with a gap toothed grin. “Thish is my new fwiend.” Then he patted Bart on the back and drained his mug in one gulp.

  Bart was fuming inside. This was just the sort of thing that always seemed to happen when he had the misfortune to sit at the bar. He sat there and endured ol’ Bunn’s attempts at small talk, all the while trying to avoid the noxious odor he was emitting with every word.

  Then to his relief, he saw a couple leave one of the tables and head for the door. True, it was near the middle, but at least it was closer to the table with the seven older gentlemen and away from ol’ Bunn. Getting up from his chair he quickly made a beeline to the table before anyone else could take it.

  Bart took the seat that gave him the best view of the seven men. He had no sooner settled in when he heard from the bar, “Hey, what about your ol’ fwiend Bunn?” His ire peaked when he glanced back and saw the drunk staggering across the room towards him.

  The freshly filled mug in his hand sloshing its contents on the floor, as well as on other patrons, with every unbalanced step he took. “Go away,” Bart said quietly under his breath.

  Working quickly, he reached into his shirt where he had the rolled leather containing his darts. He removed one of the darts as well as the third of the vials in line. Once the dart and vial were in hand he glanced around to see if anyone was paying him any attention and might have seen what he was doing.

  By this time the drunk was almost to the table. Then he all of a sudden lost his balance and sat in the lap of a lady at an adjacent table. She screamed, the gentleman she was with forcibly yanked ol’ Bunn off her lap, and many of the patrons erupted in laughter.

  For a second after ol’ Bunn had been pulled back to his feet, Bart thought he may wander off in another direction. But luck was not with him this evening. Ol’ Bunn caught sight of him from the corner of his eye and turned around. He began staggering once again toward Bart’s table.

  Bart shook his head in irritation as he put the cork back in the vial before returning it back to the rolled leather. Then he stood up with the doctored dart cupped in his right hand and moved towards ol’ Bunn. “Here,” he said to him, “let me help you to your seat.”

  “Why that’s awfully kind of you,” ol’ Bun replied with a smile.

  Then when Bart’s right hand came to ‘assist’ him, he poked him in the shoulder with the point of the dart. He was surprised that ol’ Bunn didn’t react in any way when the needle entered his skin. He must have been so drunk that he hadn’t even noticed.

  Bart pulled out one of the chairs at the table and helped the drunk into it. Then he returned to the seat he had been sitting in before getting up to take care of the situation.

  The poison that was on the dart took effect fairly fast and it wasn’t long before ol’ Bunn’s head was on the table. To anyone who happened to look their way, it appeared that he had simply passed out.

  The poison that he doctored the dart with wasn’t fatal, just caused the recipient to slip into unconsciousness for awhile. Bart replaced the dart back within the rolled pack unobtrusively and then settled down to drink his ale. He glanced around once more to see if anyone was the wiser, but no one appeared to be paying him any undue attention.

  With ol’ Bunn out of the way, he could once more turn his attention back to the seven men, one of whom he’s fairly certain is Durik. One of the men stood out more as Durik than the other six. They were dressed rather commonly while the seventh had an air about him that spoke of a higher social standing.

  “Durik!”

  Bart turned from his discreet observation of the seven men at the sound of Durik’s name. A man had just entered through the front door and was making straight towards a table on the opposite side of the room from where the seven men sat. A rather nondescript man with brown hair, he wore a dirty traveling cloak that looked as if he’d been on the road for some time. Bart watched him as he came to a stop next to a table with three men. One was just beginning to gray and had a hard look to him. The other two sat opposite him and were younger, not much older than Bart.

  Coming to the conclusion that he must have been mistaken in thinking Durik was among the seven, he now turned his attention to what was transpiring over at the other table.

  The man leaned close and whispered something into the older man’s ear. Then the older man got to his feet and said something to the other two younger men that Bart was unable to make out. Following the man who had whispered into his ear, he left the two younger men sitting at the table and walked out of the inn.

  Bart waited half a second before rising to his feet leisurely. Trying not to appear to be in much of a hurry, though he desperately needed to follow Durik and the other man, he headed for the door. Once outside, he scanned up and down the street and saw the two men moving away to the right.

  Leaving the inn behind, he quickly moved to follow. The two m
en walked in silence until reaching the edge of town where they came to a stop under a large birch tree. There they began speaking to one another.

  Bart maneuvered closer in the dark. When he reached the outside edge of the last building, he began working his way from tree to tree until he could make out what they were saying.

  “…find them anywhere,” the man wearing the traveling cloak said.

  “Didn’t you ask around Quillim?” Durik asked.

  “Yes, and if anyone knows where they are they aren’t saying,” the man replied.

  Durik glanced behind him and scanned the darkness for a second. Bart was hidden behind a nearby tree so escaped detection. “No one’s ever found silver coins in this quantity before,” Durik finally said. “A couple here and there from time to time, but hundreds? They may know something that will lead us to the Horde. I want you to find them!”

  The man nodded. “I’ll ask around some more,” he told Durik. Then he asked, “Were those two more fools inquiring about the coins you placed at the inn?” Durik chuckled, “Yes they are. Take care of them for me before you go. Something’s afoot, I can feel it.” He then turned towards the man and said, “We can’t afford to have anyone out there searching for the Horde besides us, not now.”

  “I’ll take care of it,” the man said.

  “Good,” Durik said. “I’m heading home. Report back here in a week whether you’ve found out anything or not.”

  “What should I do if I find them?” the man asked.

  “Send word and wait for me to arrive,” he replied.

  “As you wish,” the other man said. Then the two men went in separate directions.

  Bart watched the other man as he headed back to the inn while Durik moved off into the darkness away from town. When they were both far enough away not to notice him, he began following Durik.

  So, they’re looking for us, he thought. They must have found out who it was that had sold Thyrr the coins. He was sure that if Durik found Riyan and Chad, that he would first find out what they knew, then kill them.

  Glancing over his shoulder, he saw the man as he continued heading for the inn. He could appreciate the trap Durik had set. Anyone who was interested in the King’s Horde, or just the coins, would come find him when they saw those four coins on the wall at the inn. Then it was a simple matter of taking them out to reduce the competition. Bart had almost fallen into that trap himself.

  Turning his attention back to the shadow that was Durik moving in the darkness away from him, he moved out from behind the tree. Continuing to keep him just within sight, Bart followed.

  Chapter Five

  _______________________

  Durik continued through the dark for another mile before an estate appeared in the moonlight. The windows of the manor house were dark. Bart followed at a discreet distance then came to a stop behind one of the trees growing in the front lawn. He watched as Durik walked to the front door of the manor, used a key to unlock the door, then went inside.

  Shortly afterwards a light appeared in the window of the room on the other side of the door. Bart remained where he was and watched as the light made its way through the house. First along the ground floor before it disappeared for a short time, then reappearing on the second floor. The light finally came to a stop in the room at the end of the second floor on the right. There it remained for a solid hour before going out.

  Bart kept an eye on the manor house for another ten minutes after the light went out.

  He came to the conclusion that Durik must have gone to bed so returned to Kemmet and to the inn in which he was staying. Bart found the proprietress was still up and paid her in advance for another two days just in case. Somehow, he was going to get into Durik’s manor and do a little poking about.

  He grabbed his pack and stopped by the inn’s kitchen on the way out where he bought a loaf of bread, some meat and cheese, as well as a small cask of ale. Then with his supplies slung across his back in a pack the people in the kitchen were happy to loan him, he returned through the dark of night to Durik’s place.

  Once he made it back, he found a spot not too far away where he could observe the goings on at the manor while remaining unobserved. It was within a group of tall bushes bordered by three trees whose protective cover hid him well.

  After an hour went by and nothing further happened, he made himself comfortable and tried to catch some sleep before dawn. Sleep though was slow in coming. His mind kept churning over the conversation he had overheard Durik and that other man have. It was clear they knew Riyan and Chad were the two who fenced the coins through Thyrr.

  But did they know about him yet? If that other man had asked around as he said he had, he may have discovered that Bart was their friend and disappeared about the same time they had.

  Whatever they may or may not know, Bart understood Durik to be a threat to himself and the others. Not to mention that he has been searching for the King’s Horde far longer than they have, and appeared to have a network of people in place at his beck and call.

  Things could get dicey fast if they were not careful.

  Then he smiled. Even if joining the Warriors Guild failed to produce any further lead, at least Chad and Riyan were now going to be able to defend themselves should the need arise. Just before slipping off to sleep, he concluded that the need would definitely arise.

  The first rays of the morning sun found Bart already awake and still in the same hidden spot as before. He had been up since shortly before dawn and Durik had yet to make his appearance. There was always be the possibility that Durik had left before Bart had awoken, but he doubted that.

  He pulled out some of the bread, meat, and cheese for his breakfast and sat there eating as he kept a watch on the manor. Nothing happened for the next couple hours.

  Then about mid morning a rider approached the manor and dismounted by the front door.

  A few moments after knocking on the door he was let in. At least now Bart knew that Durik was still within the manor. An hour passed before the rider reappeared through the front door. Durik stood in the doorway until the rider had mounted and begun moving down the lane leading from the manor.

  After the rider left, Bart remained in his hiding spot and continued keeping an eye on the manor house. If anything, he was patient, the hallmark of his chosen profession. A person in his line of work who wasn’t able to wait for the right moment to strike seldom lasted long.

  The hours clicked by and still Durik failed to show. During that time another rider, different than the one before, arrived at the manor house. He spent a relative short time within just as the previous rider had before exiting and riding away.

  It wasn’t until the sun was at the horizon and about to set that Durik finally made an appearance. He didn’t pass through the front door as Bart had expected. Rather he emerged from the back on horseback and headed into town. As he made his way down the lane to the road, Bart kept a constant watch on him. He saw Durik turn onto the road and was out of sight on his way towards Kemmet before leaving his hiding spot.

  Bart walked quickly to the front of the manor house, straight to the front door. When he reached the door, he cast his gaze back to the road for a last look to make sure Durik wasn’t on his way back. The coast was clear.

  Turning back to the door, he tried to open it and found it locked. He grinned and removed the rolled leather which held his lockpicks from his pack. After taking the two general purpose picks out, he began working on the lock. It was a fairly simple lock, one Bart had encountered dozens of times before.

  He always found it humorous that when people purchased locks, they never questioned their effectiveness. Most people simply assumed that they would keep others out and never realized that to a professional like Bart, you may as well not have bothered.

  It took him all of half a minute to have the lock picked. He returned his tools back in the rolled leather and placed it in his shirt. Once on a job, he usually kept them tucked in his shirt after the
ir initial use. Often he tended to need them more than just once so wanted them handy.

  Again he cast a look around the grounds before opening the door. He passed through to the inside then closed and locked the door again. The room he found himself in was a normal outer room where Durik could entertain guests. He’s sure that the room he wanted would have to be on the second floor. If Durik has been hunting the King’s Horde for as long as Bart thought he had, then it stood to reason he would have a room somewhere here in the house dedicated to it.

  Bart moved through the outer room and entered the hallway on the other side. He discovered that it ran the length of the building. Turning to the right, he followed the hallway down to where he was certain the stairs up would be. After all, last night after Durik came home, this was the way the light Bart had observed had gone.

  At each room he passed, he would pause a moment and inspect it. Most of the doors stood open but two had been closed. The brief inspections only revealed normal rooms one would expect in a home. One of the last was a study.

  The study contained a large desk, book lined shelves attached to the wall on the desk’s right, and a pedestal with the bust of a man on its left. Bart didn’t go in, but he did give it more of a once over than the others. But in the rapidly failing light, there wasn’t much that he could ascertain about it. If he failed to find anything upstairs, he’ll return down here to search it.

  After leaving the study behind, he came to the stairs leading up to the second floor.

  The hallway here on the ground floor continued past the stairwell for another ten feet before coming to an end. There at the end were two more doorways, one on either side.