The Broken Key (02) - Hunter of the Horde

by Brian S. Pratt

  Still over an hour before nightfall and he wasn’t tired enough to turn in. He did get a room for the night at a nearby inn before hunting down Terk. Bart still owed him that drink for all he did in helping him with the removal of the death mark.

  The first place he went in search of his friend was an old tavern in the shadier side of town. A place called the Halfling’s Stump, it was a hangout for those living on the seedier side of life. Full of miscreants, beggars, and thieves, it wasn’t the sort of place one would bring a lady of high society.

  Bart had come here often before circumstances forced him to move to Quillim. He left his horse at the inn and walked through town, taking in the sights and sounds of the pulse of the city. A grin came to his face unbidden as he worked his way towards the Stump. Why it was called the Halfling’s Stump has been argued about for years. The original proprietor has long since passed away and from what was told about him, he was tall and had both hands.

  When the Stump came into view, he saw that the place hadn’t changed in the least.

  He actually chuckled when he saw the broken wagon parked alongside the building in the alley next to it. Kippen, the man who ran the place now, had said for years that he was going to fix it and move south. From the looks of the state of disrepair it was in, he hadn’t yet.

  Five men and two women, couldn’t really call them ladies, were hanging out front near the door as he approached. They were clearly drunk even though it wasn’t even dark yet. When they saw him coming they called out to him, mostly rude comments which he paid little attention to. One of the women propositioned him but he declined the offer.

  Leaving them to their revelry, he entered the Stump.

  A rather dingy place, dark and smoky, the Stump wasn’t exactly what you would call a classy establishment. But for those who frequented it, the place was perfect. Bart paused just within the door and looked around. As luck would have it, he saw Terk sitting across from a woman at a table over against a wall.

  Bart grinned to himself and headed on over. Terk was paying far too much attention to his lady friend and failed to notice Bart’s approach. The lady on the other hand took notice of him right away. Before he could reach the table, Terk had noticed her eyes looking past him and turned to see what it was she was looking at. When he saw Bart approaching, he got to his feet and said, “Bart! When did you get back?” Bart came forward and greeted his friend. “Had some business in town,” he explained. “I’ll be heading out in the morning. Thought about buying you that drink I promised.”

  “Well, have a seat then,” he said. As Bart pulled up a chair to join him and his lady friend, Terk turned to her and said, “This is an old friend of mine named Bart. He and I go way back.”

  “Nice to meet you,” she said to him.

  Bart gave her a nod and replied, “You too, uh…?” Looking to Terk questioningly, he heard him say “Laura.”

  As Bart sat down, Terk said, “Been some people in town asking about you.” A chill went down Bart’s spine as he heard that. “Who were they?” he asked.

  “Don’t know,” replied his friend.

  Bart signaled the serving girl and ordered the three of them an ale. “Do you know what they wanted?”

  He shrugged. “From what I heard they said they had some business with you was all,” he explained. “I didn’t talk to them myself, heard it from Ashtyn.” Ashtyn was another of their friends that had grown up with them on the streets.

  Bart tried to keep his face passive. Inside, his mind was churning. Most likely it was one of Durik’s men trying to find out information about his whereabouts. If they were to encounter him here things could get unpleasant. He clearly remembered the table with straps in the basement of Durik’s home.

  “Troubles?” Terk asked.

  Bart came back to himself and realized he had grown quiet and still for a time.

  Shaking his head he said, “No.”

  “Good,” replied Terk. Just then the serving girl returned with their drinks. He took one of the mugs and said, “Now, let’s do it like we use to.” Bart took up his mug as well and said, “You’re on.” They both lifted their mugs to their lips and downed it all at once. Then their mugs slammed to the table simultaneously.

  Terk laughed and signaled for another round. That was but the first of many they went through before the night was over.

  A groan escaped him as the morning’s light pierced through his eyelids and knifed into his brain. Laying his arm over his face he tried to shut it out but it was no use.

  Cracking open an eye he glanced around and was glad to find that he had somehow made it back to his room at the inn. How he had managed it was a bit fuzzy.

  Then a snort from beside him caused him to turn and find Terk’s girlfriend lying in the bed next to him. A quick scan of the room revealed they were alone, Terk was nowhere to be found.

  He turned back and saw that she had an eye opened and was looking at him.

  “Morning,” he said.

  “Good morning to you too,” she said with a grin.

  “Um, where’s Terk?” he asked.

  “You mean your friend from the Stump?” she asked. She smiled and placed an arm across his chest and snuggled closer.

  “Yeah,” he said. Ordinarily waking up next to a pretty girl after a binge like the one he and Terk had been on last night was a fortunate circumstance. All too often you woke up to ‘something else’. Once he had tied one on like last night and woke up next to, well, every time he thinks about it he turns red and a shiver courses through him.

  “He passed out so I went with you,” she said. “He certainly didn’t mind.” She moved her head closer and started nibbling on his ear.

  As much as he liked the attention he was getting, he needed to see about his friend, and allay any notions that his friend may be having about him stealing his girl. Sitting up in bed, he could feel her arm across his chest trying to pull him back.

  “I really must be off,” he told her.

  “Are you sure?” she asked. Pulling the covers down a bit, she attempted to change his mind.

  He had to steel himself against his more carnal impulses. After swallowing hard, he said, “Yes.”

  “Too bad,” she said. “I like you.”

  “I like you too,” he replied. He slipped his trousers back on and pulled his tunic over his head. “You take care now,” he said. Grabbing his pack, he headed for the door.

  “Will I see you again?” she asked.

  “Not likely,” he replied as he paused before the door, “sorry.” Opening the door he quickly passed out to the hallway. Once the door was closed, he stood there a moment as he tried to calm himself. It was almost more than he was able to do to move away from the door, but he did it. After he reached the stairs and was on his way down to the common room his hormones began calming down.

  He took a moment to pick up a couple copper’s worth of bread and meat before hurrying out the door. Eating as he walked, he headed back to the Stump to see if Terk was still there.

  Taking a man’s girl without his okay was a definite breach of friendship, and being drunk beyond all reason was no excuse. Bart wanted to make sure he made it right with Terk before he left town.

  At the Stump, he found Terk lying outside in the back alley with several other former patrons of the Stump. Rather than allowing them to sleep it off inside, they had hauled the drunks out in the alley. It’s doubtful if any of them have anything of value left as thieves were aware of the taverns which did this.

  Bart stepped over a man and came to his friend. “Hey man,” he said as he shook his shoulder. “Wake up.”

  Groaning from the pain ripping through his skull, Terk opened his eyes to see his friend standing there above him. “What happened?” he asked.

  Offering his friend a piece of the bread, Bart replied, “We tied one on.”

  “I guess so,” he said. Terk took the bread and started nibbling on it. He looked around at his surrounding and sighed. �
�In the alley again.” He checked his pockets and sure enough, everything that was in them was gone.

  “Gone?” asked Bart.

  Terk nodded his head.

  Bart lent his friend a hand as he helped him to his feet. He walked with his friend out of the alley and began moving down the street. “I took your girl to my room last night,” he admitted. He had mulled over various ways in which to say it, but couldn’t come up with anything better than to come right out with it.

  “How was she?” he asked.

  Bart shrugged, “I don’t remember.”

  Terk paused in the street a moment, looked at his friend, then laughed. With that laugh Bart knew his friend held no animosity towards him. “Let me get you back to your place before I head out,” he said.

  “You’re leaving again?” he asked.

  “I told you that last night,” replied Bart.

  “Did you?” Terk asked. “Can’t remember nothing.”

  “Me either,” Bart admitted.

  After a block or two, Terk was again steady enough to make it on his own without requiring Bart’s help. He led Bart to his shabby little room a few streets over. At the door to the room, he paused and said, “Thanks for getting me out of that alley.” Bart shrugged and grinned. “It was the least I could do.” Then he and Terk said their farewells. As Terk opened the door, Bart turned to leave.

  “Don’t be such a stranger,” Terk said just before entering the room.

  “I’ll be around from time to time I’m sure,” he replied. As he left the building, he heard Terk shut the door. Bart couldn’t help but grin and shake his head. Friends like Terk were hard to come by.

  As he passed through the streets toward Phyndyr’s, he tried to recall what happened last night but it was all a blur. The throbbing in his head was beginning to subside by the time Phyndyr’s shop appeared down the street. He’ll be glad for this to be over with and get the information Kevik needed back to him.

  When he was but one block from Phyndyr’s, he slowed when he saw a man crossing the street ahead of him. The man was heading directly for Phyndyr’s door. He seemed somewhat familiar, brown hair with a well worn traveling cloak. As realization came to him, Bart stopped in the middle of the street. That was the man who had talked with Durik that night at The Dunderdells in Kemmet. From the conversation he had overheard this man and Durik have, the man entering Phyndyr’s had already been to Quillim inquiring about them. Now the trail has led him to Phyndyr’s.

  Bart moved to the side of the street Phyndyr’s shop lay on and ducked into a side alley. When he made sure no one was looking, he removed his pack and opened it.

  Reaching in, a plan began to form.

  Phyndyr heard the front door open and saw the man enter. He’d heard through several acquaintances about this man, though none knew who he really was. One thing Phyndyr did know about him was that he was looking for Bart.

  Getting up, Phyndyr walked forward with a smile and asked, “How can I help you? A scroll to help you at dice perhaps?”

  The man shook his head with a grimace. “No, nothing like that,” he replied.

  Phyndyr looked questioningly at him. He knew this man had already been to see Thyrr on two separate occasions. The first time he had been interested in who had fenced the silver King’s coins, the second time he was looking for information about Bart’s friend’s whereabouts. Rumors have already begun circulating within the circles of those in-the-know that Bart and his friends may have found the King’s Horde.

  “I was looking for some information,” the man came out and said. “I wish to find Bartholomew Agreani. I understand he’s a friend of yours.”

  “I’ve known Bart for quite awhile, that’s true,” he said. Then just as he was about to continue, the front door opened about a foot then stopped. “Pardon me a moment,” he told the man as he went and closed it.

  “Sorry about that,” he apologized as he returned to the man after closing it.

  “Sometimes the wind blows it open if it isn’t shut all the way.” The man simply looked at him. “Now, about Bartholomew, have you seen him lately?”

  Phyndyr gauged his response and came to the conclusion that he didn’t owe this man any sort of explanation. “No I haven’t,” he lied.

  The man’s eyes narrowed. “I have it on good authority that Bartholomew was in here yesterday,” he stated. “I want to know where he is and what he’s up to.” Phyndyr crossed his arms and frowned at the man. “I tell you he hasn’t been here,” retorted Phyndyr. “Why do you want him so bad?”

  “He stole something from my employer and I’m to recover it,” he explained.

  A seed of doubt crept into Phyndyr’s mind. He knew who and what Bart was. There was a slight possibility that this man was telling the truth. Either way, he owed nothing to him. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m afraid I can’t be of any help to you.” The man’s eyes narrowed. Phyndyr could tell that the man knew he was lying and wasn’t taking it very well. Then he saw the man rest his hand on the hilt of his sword.

  “It would be better for you if you were a bit more accommodating to my request,” he said.

  Phyndyr actually laughed at the man.

  The man’s face turned red. Whatever reaction he had been expecting, being laughed at definitely wasn’t it. “Tell me where he is or it’ll go badly for you!”

  “You dare threaten me, a Master Scriber in my own shop?” asked Phyndyr incredulously. “If you are going to pull your sword, do it and let’s get this over with.” Phyndyr stood there in front of him with a look that dared him to pull it.

  Perhaps the man hadn’t been aware of who and what Phyndyr was. Doubt crept into his eyes as he stood there. He glanced around the room, but other than the tables, there was nothing in it which would indicate this was a scriber’s shop. Deciding discretion was the best course of action at this time, he removed his hand from his sword’s hilt.

  “Now,” Phyndyr told him, “I suggest you leave.” He glared at him for a second then saw a flash of movement behind the man. Something struck him on the back of the head with an audible thud, dropping him to the ground. “Did you have to do that?” he asked before Bart took the hood of the cloak off and materialized before him.

  Bart was surprised that he had known he was there. “How did you know I was here?” he asked.

  Phyndyr flashed a quick grin at him. “One should never give away their secrets,” he said. Then he glanced down at the man lying unconscious between them. “What’s going on?”

  After replacing the knife with whose handle he had struck the man back in its scabbard, he replied, “If I could use one of your back rooms for a few minutes I’ll tell you.”

  Phyndyr nodded. “Be quick before someone comes in.” Bart picked up the man and slung him over his shoulder as he followed Phyndyr to the door leading into the back. Once through the door, Bart found himself in a small square room with a door on each side. From past visits he knew that the door opposite the one he had just passed through led to where Phyndyr’s apprentices and journeyman worked on creating scrolls. Also beyond that door was a room with a rather formidable door which sealed a room that held Phyndyr’s more valuable merchandise.

  Phyndyr was quick to shut the door behind him and then moved to the door on their right. “Bring him in here,” he said as he removed a ring of keys and unlocked the door.

  The opening of the door revealed a storeroom where bottles of ink, sheaves of paper, and other paraphernalia which Phyndyr needed to construct scrolls were stored.

  He indicated the floor in the middle of the room. “Just lay him there,” he said.

  Bart plopped him on the floor and then checked the man’s eyes.

  “He’s not dead is he?” Phyndyr asked with the closing of the storeroom’s door.

  “No, but he may be out for awhile,” he replied. He glanced up and added, “I hit him a bit hard.”

  “I need to tell Josef to watch the front room,” he said. “I’ll be right back.
” Josef was Phyndyr’s journeyman scriber who was quite skilled in the scriber’s art and could practically make any scroll that Phyndyr could.

  “Thanks,” Bart said.

  Phyndyr paused at the door and glanced back at him. He nodded then moved though and shut him in there. Bart was plunged into darkness when the door closed. He sat on the floor next to the unconscious man until Phyndyr returned.

  He hadn’t long to wait before the door opened and Phyndyr entered the storeroom bearing a lit candle. “Now,” he said as the door closed behind him, “would you mind telling me why this man now lies unconscious in my storeroom?”

  “I suppose you’ve heard by now that two friends of mine and I came across some coins of the King?” he asked.

  Phyndyr nodded. “I’ve heard something about that, yes,” he replied. “Supposedly you found a large quantity.”

  “Something like that,” Bart admitted. He nodded to the man on the floor and said,

  “This man’s employer is one of those crazy Hunters for the Horde and thinks we know where it lies.”

  Phyndyr’s eyes widened at that. “Do you?” he asked. When Bart hesitated he added,

  “You and I go way back, I’ve never broken a confidence before and I’m not about to now.”

  Bart looked up at his lifelong friend and said, “Maybe. We’re not entirely sure.” He looked at Bart in shock as he plopped himself on one of the crates sitting on the floor. “The King’s Horde,” he breathed.

  “Now we’re not even sure about it yet,” Bart told him.

  “But it’s possible?” he asked.

  Under the expectant eyes of his friend, Bart nodded.

  “Unbelievable!” he exclaimed.

  “Please don’t tell anyone about this,” urged Bart.

  “Don’t worry young Bart,” Phyndyr said. “Your secret’s safe with me.” The man on the floor began to stir and gave out with a groan.

  “I think he’s coming out of it,” Phyndyr observed.

  “Good,” said Bart as he turned his attention back to the man. He glanced back to Phyndyr and said, “It might be better if you were to leave.”