The Broken Key (02) - Hunter of the Horde

by Brian S. Pratt

  He looked up from the papers to Bart. “I don’t know how I can thank you.” Bart just shrugged. “Glad I could help.”

  They sat and visited for another ten minutes. Bart could see that Kevik barely held his impatience to return to his tower and begin working on his spells in check. “Perhaps I should go,” he finally said. The conversation had run out, Kevik’s mind was only on the information Bart had supplied him with and the spells it would enable him to finish.

  Kevik looked up from the papers, not even realizing he had been practically ignoring Bart. “Okay,” he said as he stood up. “See you when you return.” Bart came to his feet as well and patted him on the back. “You take care,” he said with a grin.

  “Hmm?” murmured Kevik. His eyes were glued to the words on the page. “What?” Lifting his eyes from the pages he looked to Bart.

  “Nothing,” said Bart with a chuckle.

  They walked together to the front door of the manor house where Kevik mumbled a few words of parting before shutting the door. Bart simply shook his head and grinned at his friend as he made his way to his horse. He would come back later on that night to spend the night in his room upstairs.

  Bart swung up into the saddle and turned his horse in the direction of Gilbeth. First he wanted a good meal, then he would investigate the possibility whether or not Durik’s people had traced them here yet. If they had, they would have to be on their guard.

  He knew the warning he had given Durik’s man would in no way sway them from pursuing him and the others. All he had wanted them to realize was that he knew about them. Perhaps knowing that he was on to them would slow them down. Or perhaps not.

  Once he reached the outskirts of town, he kept his eyes out for the two riders he had seen meeting with Durik that day, and the man whom he had spoken to at Phyndyr’s. He made his way through the streets of Gilbeth to the Sparkling Fountain, an inn and eatery where he had been before. They had good food and the serving girl was comely to look at.

  After securing his horse to the post outside, he made his way in to the common area where over half the tables were already filled with eaters. This close to the noon meal he was surprised they weren’t all filled, this place had a good reputation.

  He took a seat at a table where he could observe through the window those passing by on the street. The serving girl came over and took his order. It didn’t take long before he was enjoying a meal of fried chicken, spicy potatoes, and half a loaf of bread.

  While he ate, he watched the people passing by outside for Durik’s men but didn’t have any luck. Ten minutes into his meal, two men, soldiers by the looks of them, entered the common room and sat at the table next to his. He didn’t pay much attention to them and the conversation they were having until he heard them mention Sandlun and the Moran Tribes.

  He had heard of the recent troubles down there, it was all anyone seemed to want to talk about. Paying closer attention, his attention was soon riveted to the conversation when he heard them mention the Recruits at the Guild.

  “You mean they’re going to send the Recruits down south?” one man asked.

  “That’s what I heard,” he said.

  “Why would they do that?” the first man asked.

  “Duke Knor has requested it of the Guild,” the second man explained. “Seems he wants to create more of a presence along the border to discourage further raids like the one that destroyed Sandlun.”

  “I heard that several of the lads here in Gilbeth are already slated to go elsewhere,” the first man commented.

  “It’s only those who are currently free of obligations that they’ll send down there,” the second man clarified. “Whoever already has employment arranged won’t be going.”

  “Can’t see that too many of these young bucks would want to avoid going anyway,” the first man stated. “Lots of adventure and fame to be had down there.”

  “True,” nodded the second man.

  Their conversation turned into another direction and Bart quickly tuned them out. His mind was churning with the news he had just heard. If what the two men said were true, then Riyan and Chad would be sent down south for who knows how long. Their hunt for the remaining segments would be on hold for an indeterminate amount of time, not to mention all hope Riyan still had of winning Freya would be gone.

  As he sat there and finished his meal, he thought about various courses of actions they could take. He doubted Riyan and Chad could honorably refuse such a request by their Guild. Most likely it would appear dishonorable or some such notion. He finally came up with the idea that he would hire them. When he was through with his meal, he went down to the Guild to see about arranging it.

  “What do you mean I can’t hire them?” he asked.

  He stood in the office of a soldier long removed from his adventuring days. An aged member of the Guild, he was the one to see about hiring Guild members in this area.

  Most Guild members settled their own contracts with prospective employers, though they would at times seek out the Guild’s help when they had no other alternatives. Recruits on the other hand were a different matter, especially since they were still in training. Bart had been directed to this aged soldier after he let it be known that he wished to hire a couple of the Recruits. When he had stated his wishes to the man, he had been pointedly refused.

  The man looked at him somewhat impatiently. “We here at the Guild do at times arrange employment for our members,” he explained. “But only if we think it would be in their best interest.”

  “And why wouldn’t it be in their best interest?” Bart demanded. “A job’s a job right?”

  Shaking his head, the Guild’s man said, “No, it isn’t. You have no business, you own no land, and you have no source of revenue with which to sustain the men you would be hiring. I could not in all conscience sanction such a contract.” Bart glared at the man. He realized further arguments would get him nowhere and he knew the aged soldier had only Riyan and Chad’s best interest in mind. At least from his point of view.

  He stalked from the office and made his way through the Guild building to the foyer.

  At this time of day it was fairly empty. He wanted to talk to Riyan and Chad about the situation but he didn’t want to wait around here for the next several hours until they were through with their drills.

  Leaving the Guild, he walked to where he had left his horse. A thought occurred to him when he reached his steed’s side. Maybe Kevik could hire them? After all, he had a large estate and magic users could always find work if they desired. Most magic users tended to be a bit standoffish, rarely contracting out for work to outsiders. So those who were willing to sell their skills were generally paid fairly well.

  Mounting, he turned his horse back towards Kevik’s estate. He rode through the streets of Gilbeth and once past the outskirts, didn’t waste any time in quickening his horse’s pace to a canter. It didn’t take long before he spied the top of the tower.

  What are they to do for coins should some be needed to cover the Guild’s cost in negotiating the contract? They were about strapped. Perhaps Kevik would have something which could be sold.

  He turned off the road and entered the lane leading over the hill to Kevik’s estate. Just when he topped the hill and could see the manor house and tower clearly…

  Bam!

  …an explosion blasted outward from the tower’s third floor windows.

  Bart kicked his horse into a gallop as he raced forward. “Kevik!” he hollered as he approached the door. He vaulted from his horse and tried to open the tower’s door.

  Locked. “Kevik!” he hollered again as he repeatedly banged on the door.

  He backed away from the tower wall and looked up at the third floor window, wisps of smoke were still wafting out. “Kevik! Are you alright?” When no reply came he pulled out his lockpicks and returned to the door. He well remembered the warnings Kevik had told them about trying to force entry into the tower. Despite the risks, he had to go to his f
riend’s aid.

  Removing his two general purpose picks, he began working on the lock. It was one of those locks thieves laughed at. One that was more for the feeling of security it gave the owner than for any real protection against what Bart was trying to do.

  When he felt the release of the locking mechanism, he glanced around the outside of the tower. He wondered what form the defensive magics of the tower would take. He slid the two picks back in the rolled leather and opened the door. Passing through quickly to the inside, he slammed the door shut. Still no manifestations of the danger Kevik had warned them about.

  “Kevik!” he hollered as he raced for the stairs and took them two at a time. After clearing the second floor, he encountered charred pieces of wood littering the steps.

  Beginning halfway between the two floors, the debris extended the rest of the way to the third floor. In fact, the opening of the stairwell onto the third floor was partially blocked by what was left of one the tables.

  A smoky haze greeted him as he pushed the table out of the way and entered Kevik’s workshop. The small breeze blowing in through the window was working to disperse the smoke.

  Kevik’s workshop was a shambles. Aside from the table that had blocked the stairwell, the other one showed charred damage as well. Unlike the other, it had survived intact. “Kevik,” Bart said as he saw his friend’s feet sticking out from the doorway to the room where he kept his cot. Rushing over, he found him beginning to come around.

  He definitely looked a sight. Face blackened by the blast, hair sticking up at all angles, and his robe would have to be thrown out. It had so many holes and singed places that it would be more expensive to repair it than it would to buy a new one.

  “You okay?” Bart said as he came to Kevik’s side.

  Kevik grinned with embarrassment as he looked up at his friend. “I’ll live,” he said.

  Bart offered him a hand and helped him to his feet. “What happened?” Once on his feet, Kevik stepped out into his workshop and assessed the damage. “I was working on the spell for my staff,” he explained. “I must have misspoke one of the symbols.”

  “One of the ones I brought back?” he asked.

  Kevik nodded. “I know now not to say it in that way.”

  “Wasn’t there explanations supplied along with the meaning?” Bart asked.

  “Yes,” replied Kevik. “But there is only so much the written word can tell you about vocalizing.” He found his staff lying on the floor beneath the window and he hurried over to pick it up. Inspecting it closely, he gave out with a relieved sigh when he found it hadn’t been damaged.

  As he turned back to Bart he came to a quick stop. “How did you get in here?” he asked curiously.

  “When I heard the explosion I picked the lock on the door below,” he explained.

  Kevik thought about that a moment then asked. “Did anything happen?” Bart shook his head. “No. Wasn’t there supposed to be a guarding spell on it or something?”

  “I had thought so,” Kevik admitted. “My master had always been most adamant that no one pass through the doorway until the guarding ward had been neutralized.”

  “What was supposed to happen?” Bart could see the confusion on Kevik’s face.

  “He never actually said,” Kevik finally admitted. “When I have time I’ll look into it.” He took his staff over and laid it down on top of his cot then turned back to the mess the explosion had made. “Better get this cleaned up.”

  Bart helped him get things back in order, all the while relating the conversation he overheard at the inn and the subsequent visit to the Warriors Guild. “So after I left, I got to thinking,” he concluded. “You have land and an estate, perhaps you could go down and hire them?”

  Most of the sizeable pieces of wood they stacked by the fireplace. Kevik picked up a broom and began sweeping the smaller bits into a pile. “Did you find out when this will happen?” he asked. “I don’t really own anything until I gain the title of Practitioner.” The Magi at the Tower had arranged through the town of Gilbeth the transference of title for the estate from Allar to Kevik, provided he attained Practitioner status.

  Bart shook his head. “No, I didn’t.”

  When Kevik had the smaller bits in a pile, he proceeded to sweep them into the fireplace. Once that was taken care of, he turned back to Bart. “I think I may have a week or more before I’ll be ready to stand before the Magi at the Tower.” He leaned the broom against the wall next to the fireplace. Motioning for Bart to follow him, he then led him into the adjoining room where the magic items were now being kept. “After you left this morning I realized I had forgotten to ask for your help in an experiment,” he said.

  Bart looked to him with concern. “It wouldn’t be anything like what you were doing a short time ago would it?” he asked.

  Kevik came to a stop before the chest containing the items. He turned his attention back to Bart and grinned. “Nothing like that, no.”

  Moving closer as Kevik opened the lid of the chest, he could see the magical items inside. They were in two distinct piles, one on either side. “You moved them up here?” he asked.

  Kevik nodded. “Since I’m up here more than not, it seemed the prudent thing to do,” he explained. He reached into the chest and drew froth the box containing the two identical rings. After closing the lid, he turned and proceeded back into his workroom.

  “I thought you had moved back into the manor?” Bart asked.

  “Since I have the notes you supplied, I doubt if I’ll spend much time out of here until I’m done,” he replied.

  Bart returned with him to the workroom.

  “I forgot to tell you when they were last here that I identified some of the items,” he explained. Kevik set the small box on the table and opened the lid. “These rings were part of what I was able to get to before coming across a trap.” Bart came to stand next to him and looked at the rings. “A trap?” he asked.

  “It just about killed me.” He took the two rings from the box and held them up. “If Riyan and Chad hadn’t been here I would most likely be dead.”

  “What is it you want me to do?” Bart asked. When Kevik handed him one of the rings he took it.

  “As you know, when I identify something I get visions about the item,” he explained.

  Bart nodded, he remembered the past instances when Kevik had identified items back in the Ruins.

  “For these, I think I understand what they are and what they are supposed to do,” he said as he slipped the ring he held onto his finger. “One of the visions showed two men, miles apart. One of the men began to be attacked and the second one immediately raced to his aid.”

  Still holding his ring between his fingers, he turned his gaze from it and looked to Kevik. “I don’t understand,” he said.

  “I believe these rings allow those wearing them to be able to communicate with each other in some way,” he explained.

  Bart’s eyes widened in surprise at that. “If that were true, then these would be powerful indeed,” he said.

  Kevik nodded. “I just don’t know how to activate them, nor do I know what form of communication they will take.” He could see the indecision in Bart’s eyes about putting the ring on. “It won’t hurt you.”

  “Are you completely sure?” he asked.

  Kevik paused a moment then said, “Yes.”

  Trusting in him, Bart slipped the ring on. He didn’t feel any different. “Now what?” he asked.

  “I’ll stay here in the tower,” he said. “Take your horse and ride away from the tower for a mile then stop. I’ll try to contact you through the ring.”

  “You think this is actually going to work?” Looking to Kevik, he bore a less than optimistic expression.

  “If I can figure out how it works, absolutely,” he said with sincerity.

  “Alright then.” Bart left his side and headed for the stairs down.

  As Bart entered the stairwell, Kevik turned his thoughts to the ring. How t
o make them work? A more experienced magic user would have been able to discern the mode of operation when he had identified them.

  He remembered a book he had leafed through in the library below that had spoken of magical items. One section had been devoted to magic rings. He wished that he had taken more time to study it when he had looked through it, but he had been searching for the arcane symbols he needed to understand to make the spell to complete his staff.

  A passage came back to him. It had said often the ring must be twisted upon the finger while the magical word of activation was spoken aloud. If there was a magical word needed, this won’t work at all as Kevik didn’t know what it was. He took the ring in the fingers of his other hand and twisted it around the finger it was on. Nothing happened.

  He then proceeded to twist it several different times, first one way then the other.

  Each time he twisted it, he would say one of the many magical triggers he’d come across during his studies. Every time he came up with nothing.

  Then all of a sudden a picture appeared in his mind. From the looks of it, it was the area to the south of his estate. The way it bounced around made him believe he was getting it from Bart. Excited, he hurried over to the southern window and saw that Bart was indeed riding in that direction. It worked! But how? What triggered it? He was sure it wasn’t anything he had done.

  Looking out the window, he realized Bart must have somehow triggered the latent magic within the ring he bore. Kevik’s mind went into high gear as he thought about how this had come to be.

  First off, Bart wasn’t magical, so that had to imply that the trigger wasn’t magical in nature. Could he be toying with the ring in some way? Then he thought that Bart was most likely thinking about him and his request to experiment with the rings.

  His attention was drawn back to Bart when he saw him come to a sudden stop and turn back to look toward at the tower. An image formed in his mind’s eye of the tower and himself standing at the window. This had clearly come from Bart.