The Broken Key (02) - Hunter of the Horde

by Brian S. Pratt

  “Your friend Chad is now dead I’m afraid,” the Drillmaster said rather sadly. “Too bad your lack of skill kept you from coming to his aid. I’m sure you’ll be able to explain that to his grieving mother the next time you see her.” His arm felt as if it was on fire yet he would not give in. Blow after blow he rained down upon Tad, but not one managed to breach his guard. It grew increasingly harder to lift the fat-ugly with each succeeding blow. Yet every time his attacks began to slow, Tad would step up his swordplay and begin jabbing him mercilessly in the chest.

  “Guard!” the Drillmaster exclaimed and Riyan immediately stopped his attack and once again placed his sword into the guard position. He worked to control his breathing and to keep the sword in the proper position. Once he had grown still again, he realized Tad had maneuvered him back to his original position in the line of Recruits.

  As Tad moved off to resume his route amongst the Recruits, the Drillmaster came to stand before Riyan. “Your skill has improved,” he said as he locked eyes with him. “I do not think you are totally without merit.” Then he turned and walked back to his position just as the sound of Tad’s sword striking another of the Recruit’s rang out across the courtyard.

  Riyan was shocked by the words of the Drillmaster. They were the first he had heard the man utter that weren’t derogatory in one way or another. A grin tried to break forth as he swelled with pride. But he stifled that grin in a heartbeat for he dared not allow it to show while at drills. Not unless he wished for more because of it.

  The drill continued for some time after that as each in turn had their session with Tad.

  A few of the Recruits hit their fellows and received severe recriminations from the Drillmaster. Chad, to his undying relief, was one of the ones who had not. Riyan was spared a third time with Tad, and in truth he was one of the few who actually had two sessions. All but five of the others only had the one. Chad had two as well.

  When that particular drill was over, the Drillmaster had them break formation for a short break where they could rest for a bit and have a drink of water to quench their thirst.

  There was little talk as the Recruits practically fell upon the benches in their exhaustion.

  But that was after they properly racked their fat-uglies on the stands.

  Riyan was more than glad to have a breather. His arm felt like lead and there had been times when he felt on the verge of fainting while he stood in formation with the fat-ugly at guard. He and Chad drank several ladlefuls of water each when the water bucket came their way. Most of their breaks between drills were roughly five to ten minutes long. Once in awhile it might be longer but more often than not it was closer to five.

  Once the water bucket had moved on and they were resting on the bench, Riyan saw a figure emerge from one of the many doors lining the courtyard. The man was rather old and it didn’t take him long to recognize Stryntner from the Archives. He nudged Chad and gestured to the old man. “Wonder what he’s doing here?” he asked.

  “I don’t know,” replied Chad.

  They watched him cross the courtyard and walk directly toward the Drillmaster. Once he reached him he came to a stop, then the two men began speaking to one another. At one point the Drillmaster turned his attention to where the Recruits were gathered.

  “Riyan!” he hollered and waved him over.

  Riyan immediately stood up and quick-timed it over to the two men. “Yes Drillmaster?”

  The Drillmaster nodded to Stryntner. “He has requested for you to be allowed to assist him within the Archives,” he said.

  Stryntner nodded, “That’s right young Riyan. I would greatly appreciate it if you could help me transcribe several of the older tomes. You see they are getting rather on in years and they may not last much longer.” He turned to the Drillmaster and added, “The parchment they were written on really wasn’t all that good. Though since then we have made great strides in the creation of parchment, and thus if we were to transcribe them from the old onto the new we would have them for many more years to come.” The Drillmaster took the ramblings of Stryntner in good grace and once he wound down turned to Riyan and said, “If you so desire Recruit, you may help our Keeper in the Archives. After drills.”

  “If it wouldn’t be too much of a bother young man,” added the old man.

  Riyan barely succeeded in keeping his face passive as he replied, “I would be honored to help you with any transcribing you may require.” Inside however, he was practically jumping up and down in joy at the prospect of being allowed within the Archives. Maybe now he’ll be able to find a lead on the last two coats of arms.

  Stryntner nodded with a slight smile. “Very good then,” he said. “Come see me this afternoon.”

  “I will sir,” Riyan replied. When he saw the Drillmaster nod for him to return to his fellows, Riyan immediately turned and walked back over to where Chad, Seth, and a few others were gathered together.

  “Well?” Seth asked.

  Riyan allowed the grin out that had been barely kept in check. “I’m to go and help him with transcribing some old tomes every day after practice,” he explained.

  “That’s great news!” Chad blurted out. Then he quieted down when he realized the others were staring at him oddly. “I mean, it’s great that you get to see those musty old books.”

  Riyan nodded as he watched Stryntner take his leave of the Drillmaster. Just after he passed through the door he had originally entered though, the Drillmaster resumed their drills.

  Once drills were over, Riyan quickly cleaned himself and put on a fresh tunic. He wanted to make a good impression on Stryntner.

  “Good luck,” Chad said as he was about to leave.

  “Thanks,” replied Riyan. Chad and the twins were heading over to the mess for a bite to eat once he left. His stomach was growling too, but he could put that off for a short time.

  Racing up the stairs to the third floor, Riyan quickly reached the door to the Archives.

  With excitement infusing every part of his being, he knocked on the door. He was figuring on being most helpful and accommodating in the performance of his duties so that he may be allowed to peruse the tomes on his own time.

  A few seconds went by and still the door remained shut. He knocked again. Perhaps Stryntner hadn’t heard him the first time. Again there was no response to his knocking.

  His excitement began to fade as nervousness took its place.

  He was sure Stryntner had wanted him after his drills. He stood before the door another couple of minutes in indecision, even placing his ear against it in the hopes of learning if there was anyone inside. When that turned up nothing, he grew concerned.

  Hoping that it wasn’t a breach of etiquette, he banged his fist as hard as he could on the door. The noise from the three strikes reverberated up and down the corridor. When the door still didn’t open, he thought to himself that either Stryntner was deaf, or not within. Since he hadn’t been given permission to enter, and it didn’t look as if Stryntner was inside, he sat on the floor with his back to the door to wait. He was no sooner sitting comfortably on the floor when his stomach grumbled. He fervently hoped he wouldn’t be waiting too long.

  “So you guys learned to read and write in that village of yours?” asked Seth.

  They had received their food and sat down at one of the many tables within the room.

  Most of them were empty, the other Recruits and members of the Guild had yet to arrive.

  One of the benefits of being a member of the Guild was that the Guild’s mess would feed you even if you couldn’t pay, though of course it was customary to give a few coppers if you were able.

  “That’s right,” replied Chad. “All the kids in Quillim went to the common room of the Sterling Sheep for a couple hours between the morning and noon meals. We learned our letters and numbers.”

  “We didn’t have that,” Soth admitted. “Our father said he never learned to read, that it was a waste of time.”

  “Would h
ave liked to though,” said Seth. “I’ve come across a couple instances where being able to read would have been handy.”

  Soth grinned and chuckled. “Like the time when that cute girl handed you a note as she left the dance a year ago.”

  Seth blushed and nodded. He turned to Chad and said, “I didn’t know what it said.

  Did she want me to come after her? Meet her somewhere?”

  “He was so embarrassed to ask someone to read it for him that he never found out,” explained Soth.

  “You mean you still don’t know what that note said?” Chad asked Seth.

  “No,” replied Seth ruefully. “Our father moved us down here shortly afterwards and I never ran into her again.”

  “Too bad,” said Chad. “I would teach you but I doubt if there’ll be much time for that.”

  “You got that right,” agreed Seth. “Probably too old for it now anyway.” Just then Chad caught movement out of the corner of his eye and turned his head. He was surprised to see Stryntner entering the mess in the company of two men they’ve seen from time to time eating in here.

  Seth turned to find out what had caught his eye and asked, “Isn’t Riyan supposed to be transcribing with him right now?”

  “I thought so,” replied Chad.

  They watched the three men get their food and take a seat at one of the tables on the far side of the hall.

  “Maybe he got Riyan transcribing already?” questioned Soth.

  “Probably,” replied Chad.

  It would crawl, stop for a few seconds, then move again. Most of the time it would alter its direction, rarely continuing in a straight line, almost as if it didn’t know where it wanted to go.

  Its movements never carried it out of an area roughly a foot across. What the bug could be doing, why it was doing what it was, was something Riyan’s been puzzling over for a half hour now as he watched its movements on the wall opposite him.

  The corridor upon which the Archives lay had been quiet. Not one person had made an appearance and he was beginning to think that Stryntner wasn’t going to show. The now incessant grumbling of his stomach continued urging him in giving up the wait and head down for some food. In fact he’s already made up his mind that if Stryntner doesn’t show soon, he’ll leave.

  His mind wandered back to the time in the Ruins of Algoth where he had picked the lock in order to free Bart and Chad when they were trapped. More than once he’s thought about trying to pick the lock to the Archives in order to gain entry. After all, the old guy could be passed out and in desperate need of a healer or something.

  Maybe I should look in just to see if he’s alright. Leaving the bug to its dance on the wall, he stood up and turned to face the door he had been resting against. “I hope he doesn’t get the wrong impression,” he said to himself as he pulled forth his knife. Moving the point to the lock, he took the handle of the door in the other hand and inserted it in until he felt the metal within.

  He started to attempt to pick the lock when the handle of the door turned in his hand and the door swung open an inch. It wasn’t even locked! Riyan grinned at himself as he replaced his knife in its scabbard.

  Slowly pushing the door open, he said, “I’m here as you requested.” Opening the door just far enough to stick his head in through the opening, he said, “Hello?” The interior of the room was dark. Faint light filtered in through the few windows giving the room an eerie feeling. “Hello?” he hollered a little bit louder. Pushing the door open further, he took one step into the room then stopped.

  In the gloomy light, he could tell that the room was just as it had looked during the brief glimpse he had of it that last time he was here. He scanned the room but there was no indication of any source of light at all. Obviously, Stryntner wasn’t there.

  Disappointed to say the least, he stepped back out of the room and shut the door.

  Standing there in the corridor, he wasn’t sure what he should do. His stomach knew exactly what it would like him to do, and let out with a particularly loud indication of the course of action it wanted him to take. But if he left, would that reflect badly on him?

  He finally gave into hunger and left the Archives behind as he headed down to the mess. The place was crowded as usual and he took a moment to see if Chad and the others were still eating but failed to locate them. They must have already finished and returned to their room. He did find Tad eating at a table by himself, so once he received his food, headed over to join him.

  “Mind if I sit down?” asked Riyan as he came to the table.

  Tad looked up and shook his head. “Go ahead.”

  “Thanks,” replied Riyan. Taking a seat in a chair opposite Tad, he was quick to still the grumbling of his stomach with a large piece of roast beef.

  “Where are the others?” asked Tad.

  “They came to eat right after we were finished for the day,” replied Riyan. “I went up to help Stryntner in the Archives.”

  Tad nodded. “That’s right,” he said. “Heard about that. How did it go?” Riyan sighed. “He wasn’t even there.”

  Chuckling a little, Tad gave him a grin. “He’s a little scatterbrained,” he explained.

  “Probably forgot all about you coming up there.”

  “You think so?” asked Riyan hopefully.

  “Yes,” replied Tad.

  “What should I do then?” he asked.

  “Maybe I can help you there,” offered Tad.

  “How?” Riyan continued eating as he looked at his instructor with renewed hope.

  “I’m not helping out with the drills tomorrow,” he explained. “So I’ll ‘delay’ him and keep him in the Archives until you arrive.”

  “You would do that for me?” asked Riyan.

  “Not entirely for you,” he replied. “Stryntner’s a good friend and I know he needs help.” He lowered his voice and leaned closer to Riyan as he added, “He’s getting on in years and his mind’s not what it once was. But don’t tell him I said that.”

  “I won’t,” assured Riyan.

  “There’s been talk of replacing him for years but no one’s had the heart to do it,” said Tad. “He’s been here longer than anyone can remember.” Riyan nodded. “I’ll do what I can.”

  Tad gave him a grin. “I know you will,” he said.

  The next day after drills, Riyan again cleaned up and hurried to the Archives. Unlike the last time, the door was open and light was coming through. Just before he reached the door he glanced to the wall where the bug had been crawling around yesterday and was glad to see the bug had finally made its way elsewhere.

  “…she’s been trying my patience for years now,” Riyan heard Tad’s voice coming through the door. “What should I do?”

  Riyan came to the opened door just as Stryntner replied, “Tell her…” He stopped in the middle of his sentence when he noticed Riyan standing in the doorway. “Can I help you?” he asked as he turned his full attention towards him. From his tone of voice and facial expressions, it seemed as if he didn’t know who Riyan was.

  Riyan was a bit confused by the question until he saw Tad grin, nod, and wave for him to enter. Stepping into the room he said, “I’m here to help you transcribe some of the older tomes.”

  Stryntner stood there a moment as if he wasn’t sure what Riyan was talking about.

  Then Tad said, “This is the Recruit whom you asked to help you.”

  “I did?” Stryntner asked. “I don’t recall…” He thought about it for a second then it seemed as if understanding came and he said, “Riyan right?” Inwardly sighing with relief, Riyan nodded. “That’s right, uh…” He stumbled as he tried to come up with the proper form of address.

  “Just call him Crusty,” Tad said with a grin.

  At that Stryntner turned on him and said, “I told you never to call me that!” Tad grinned at him all the more then turned to Riyan, “His official title is that of

  ‘Keeper of the Archives’. So it is proper to address him as Keeper
if you like.”

  “Keeper,” murmured Stryntner,” yes, that will do.”

  Tad made to leave and said, “I’ll leave you two to get acquainted.”

  “Don’t forget what I told you about that girl,” Stryntner said before Tad walked out the door.

  “I won’t,” he replied. Then with a wink to Riyan he was gone.

  Several candles burned in different spots around the room giving sufficient light with which to see. Stryntner indicated a table upon which three of the candles were burning and motioned for Riyan to go and take a seat in the chair.

  Once Riyan was seated, the Keeper produced parchment, ink, and quills. He brought them over and set them upon the table before him. “Now, let’s see how well your hand is,” he said. “Write something.”

  “What should I write?” Riyan asked as he took up a quill.

  “Whatever you want,” he replied.

  “As you wish,” Riyan said. He took one of the parchments off the stack and laid it before him then moved the inkwell into position. Nervousness welled up just as it use to in the Sterling Sheep when he practiced his letters while someone was watching. Taking a deep breath, he quieted the nervousness and dipped the end of the quill into the ink.

  Once he scraped the excess glob of ink off on the inside of the inkwell’s lip, he started writing; A shepherd’s life is boring. Sitting and walking, walking and sitting. Oh, for the...

  “Hmmm,” Stryntner mumbled as he was reapplying ink to his quill. “You have a fair hand.”

  “Thank you,” replied Riyan. “Would you like me to continue?”

  “That won’t be necessary,” the Keeper said. Without a word, he turned about and moved to a shelf with several scrolls and removed one. Returning to Riyan he handed him the scroll and said, “Copy this for me.”

  Taking the scroll, Riyan set it on the table before him. He first moved aside the parchment he had already written on and replaced it with a fresh one. Then he took the scroll and carefully unrolled it. Placing it beside him, he saw that it was a list of over a score of very mundane items; rope, shoes, leggings, etc. Not the sort one would expect to be kept in a place like this.