Wren carefully cleared the rest of the small farmhouse, but found no other guards in place. He did, however, find a composite bow and a full quiver of arrows near the front door along with two fresh horses outside. He sheathed his sword and took the bow before preparing the black horse to ride. In a matter of minutes, he was off and heading back toward Dreshire, hoping to meet Gorban head on.
He tore down the road as fast as the horse would go, and set an arrow to the string to ready himself. It wasn’t more than a mile away from the small farmhouse that he saw a carriage drawn by four horses heading toward him as full speed. Two men sat atop the carriage, one driving while the other held what appeared to be some sort of spear or possibly a poleax. Wren took aim and fired his first shot. The driver took the arrow in the chest.
By the time the carriage guard managed to move the driver’s body and take the reins, Wren had sent another arrow. The guard caught that one with his stomach and fell forward to be crushed beneath the carriage.
Wren pulled his horse to a stop as the carriage sped toward him. The assassin took careful aim on the lead horse and fired, striking the animal in the neck. The horse screamed and stumbled. The carriage careened off the side of the road and into the ditch, tipping the carriage over as the wooden trace and poles shattered, killing two more of the horses and setting the fourth free to run, dragging bits of its harness along with it.
Wren dismounted, shrugged off his backpack to let it wait safely on the road for him, and pulled his horse along with him for mobile cover. He didn’t doubt that a man like Gorban could survive such a wreck, and wasn’t about to take any chances by foolishly charging the carriage.
As he suspected, the door on the side, which was now facing upward toward the sky, was thrown open and a bloodied Gorban came out with a pair of crossbows. He turned and saw Wren, then fired both of his weapons. One bolt went wide, but the second slammed into Wren’s horse and the animal turned and bolted away. Wren fired back with his arrow, but Gorban ducked down into the carriage before the missile could strike him.
Wren now had two options. He could flee to hide in the trees on his side of the road, at which point he and Gorban would likely exchange arrows until one of them ran out, or until the Dreshire guards made it out this far, or he could close the distance and charge the carriage.
“You’re a fool, assassin!” Gorban shouted. “You and your little friends will all die for your interference, and then Driscal will unleash his latest masterpiece on Kresthin. It’s over!”
That sealed it. Knowing what was at stake if Driscal was allowed to get away, Wren took the more dangerous option. He sprinted for the carriage. He strung an arrow and fired it toward the carriage just as Gorban popped his head back up. Gorban ducked back down, though he needn’t have, for Wren’s arrow was aimed far too high to have done any damage at all.
Wren arrived at the carriage, dropped the bow and leapt up to climb atop it. Gorban reached out with just his hand, placing the crossbow directly in front of Wren. The assassin just barely managed to lift his head and roll to the side as the crossbow was fired and the bolt tore through the air. The second crossbow poked out of the open doorway and aimed at Wren. The assassin brought his left arm up to shield his face as the crossbow was fired. A searing, tearing pain punched through Wren’s forearm as the bolt tore through the muscle and struck the bone. A wave of fiery agony washed through Wren’s arm, and he knew the bone was likely broken. He scrambled forward, not wanting Gorban to have enough time to reload, and dove into the opening.
The assassin slammed hard into the target, and the two tumbled down in a heap of shouted curses and grunting. One of the crossbows slammed into Wren’s back as Gorban wielded it like a hammer, but Wren came up fast and hard with a dagger, piercing the soft tissue under Gorban’s jaw. Blood exploded from Gorban’s mouth as he cried out in pain. Wren twisted the dagger and then slammed his forehead into Gorban’s nose.
“You’re too late!” Gorban shouted. “What did you think would happen when you came after me? Driscal will find you, and he will kill you. It shouldn’t be hard for a man like him to find you. After all, you sent your little minions into the fray so woefully unprepared and easy to pick out in Dreshire! You’ll slip up again soon enough, and he’ll be there in that moment.”
Wren head-butted Gorban once more, but the crazed man started laughing. “You left them to themselves! Those foolish boys will try to rescue their friends, and when they do, they will be captured and they’ll either be hanged as spies, or sent to Driscal as final subjects for his newest experiments! They’ll all die horrible, lingering, meaningless deaths because of your incompetence!”
Wren shoved Gorban back with his right foot and drew his sword. He set the tip over Gorban’s heart and drove it in with a mighty yell. Then everything went still except for Wren’s pounding heart. Gorban stared back at him with an empty, glassy set of blue eyes, and then his neck went limp and Gorban’s face turned toward the ground.
“Pig,” Wren hissed as he gave Gorban another kick before pulling his sword out of the man.
Wren pulled himself up into a kneeling position and sheathed his sword. He stared down at his fallen foe for a moment, and then went to work searching Gorban’s body. He turned out the pockets and dumped the coin purses, showering Gorban’s body and carriage with a smattering of gold and silver coins. Wren ignored the money and started patting Gorban’s corpse. When his right hand felt something hard under Gorban’s tunic, he laughed and eagerly ripped Gorban’s collar open to reveal a large key hanging from a gold chain around his neck. Wren yanked the key free and then sat back in the carriage and held it up to admire it.
“At last,” Wren said as tears filled his eyes. “I have everything I need.” He clambered out of the carriage and jumped down to the road once more. He gathered his backpack and then dropped to his knees as he laid everything out. He first took the bandages and saw to his arm. He put a stick in his mouth and bit down as he wrenched the crossbow bolt out. His vision blurred and his stomach felt as though it were going to float up and out through his mouth, but he focused on the task at hand and didn’t allow the pain to take away his senses. He stopped the bleeding and then poured a sanitizing mixture of salt and medicinal compounds into the wound. He grimaced as his arm began to burn, but he knew it was either temporarily increased pain now, or risk of infection and fever later. He wrapped his arm and made sure the bleeding was truly stopped, and then examined the head on the crossbow bolt. Fortunately, the head on the bolt was smooth and narrow instead of wide or barbed, so the damage would heal well enough in time.
He blinked a few times to bring his vision fully back into focus and then reached into his backpack for a vial of black liquid, which he opened and drank in one go. The sour stuff burned his throat and made his stomach flip, but it brought him fully back to his senses so he could focus.
Next he laid everything out that he would need, just so he could verify one final time that he had everything to reach his ultimate target. First he set out the box from Mortimer and opened it. The blue gemstone was no ordinary rock. It was a compass that would point the way to Driscal’s secret doorway that led into the wizard’s tower upon the tall mountain plateau Wiltys that overlooked the northern reaches of Merryn.
Wren reached in for the Mage’s Key, a long wand of copper with a crystal set in the front and waved it over the stone Mortimer had given him. The crystal in the wand began to glow and the blue gemstone opened up to reveal a hollow chamber inside with a needle floating in a pool of mercury.
“No magical barrier will stop me,” Wren said with a smile as he watched the needle turn to point to the north east. Next he grabbed the large book he had gotten from the hollow stump after stealing an item from the governor of Kraltys. He opened the pages once more and waved the Mage’s Key over the paper. Words began to appear before his eyes as they had before. Only this time, the words were new, but Wren had expected that. This book was a magical codex used to communicate no m
atter where the recipient was. The last time he had opened it, a message had been written saying only that Driscal would make contact as soon as he was planning his return to Merryn for the first time in over fifteen years. Wren could scarcely contain his elation as he read the new message.
Lady Ashlyn Bourgeon, I will be in my tower atop Wiltys for only five more days. Meet me on my third day, and we shall discuss the formula’s results. I’ll be recruiting a handful of volunteers from Dreshire to test the latest dosage, but I do believe the formula may be the key to the current situation facing Merryn. Please bring the final payment for my services, and let’s discuss how I may be of further use to you.
Sincerely,
Master Driscal, High Wizard of the Fourth Order.
“High wizard indeed,” Wren snarled. “You are nothing more than a dog frothing at the mouth, and I shall put you down for good.” He closed the book and laughed aloud. “After all this time, I have finally found you.”
He then glanced to the other items and took in a deep breath. Now he knew when Driscal would be in the tower on Wiltys Plateau. He had the compass to show him how to find the secret passage leading to it. Of course there would be magical locks and barriers at the wizard’s tower, but the Mage’s Key would handle those. Better still, the blue vial that Ashlyn had given him contained a potion of invisibility, ensuring Driscal would never see him coming. Gorban had been the final piece to the puzzle, for that dreadful man was Driscal’s steward, and had the key to the front door of Wiltys Tower. There was nothing that could stop Wren now.
Wren then placed his hand on the large box that Marshal Orwin had given him. This was his failsafe. A crude, powerful explosive device passed on by the Hamdrin mercenaries that used to fight for the Merrynians in the war. Of course, due to the extremely short fuse on the device the bomb was no longer in use along the border, but it would prove useful in this particular attack. The assassin would set the device outside Driscal’s room so that if all else failed, the bomb would end both of their miserable lives.
He packed the items back into the backpack and stood up. He had to hurry. Wiltys was about one hundred and fifty miles away. If Wren could find a fresh horse, he could make up the first half of the journey in two nights, and then make the last half of the journey in time for Driscal’s planned meeting before the wizard left. But where to find a horse? The only surviving horse from the carriage was long gone now, and the black horse he had stolen had taken off after being terribly wounded.
Wren looked back to the west. There was another horse at the farmhouse.
Caw! Ca-caw!
Wren looked up and saw his raven standing proudly on a pine branch nearby.
“What are you doing here?”
The raven squawked at the top of its little lungs and for the briefest of moments it sounded like it was speaking.
K-kids! K-kiiids!
Wren frowned. Whether he was imagining the sound or not, he knew only too well that Gorban’s threats had not been empty. He had left the three young men faced with the horribly impossible mission of rescuing their friends alone.
K-kids! K-kiiiiiids! The raven screeched.
“Driscal has killed hundreds of innocent people, and he isn’t about to stop either. If I can, I’ll get the kids out of danger, but either way, Driscal must die.” Wren looked at his companion-bird and shook his head. “You shouldn’t follow me now. Go home, raven.”
The raven crowed once more and then took to flight, heading southward.
Wren packed the items back into his rucksack and then secured it on his back.
Ignoring the pain in his arm, he began jogging for the farmhouse, hoping he could make it there and steal the other horse before any of the pursuing guards had finished their journey through the tunnel from the Dreshire library.
Chapter 19
Liden sat on the rooftop staring at the dark sky above the stone prison in Dreshire. He was grateful for the clear night with no rain; that would have certainly put a damper on his plan. He looked down from the star-filled sky to the building where Sarta and Knell were being held. It seemed taller than Debir had described it, but he was certain Debir’s calculations had been correct. Beyond his view on the far side of the actual prison there was a small building for the local soldiers who were standing guard. They came out of that little shack at random intervals to walk around the prison yard and spit on the open grate that led to the dungeon.
Traitors and murderers were put in this low dungeon with the open grate to the outside. Whenever anyone passed by, it seemed tradition for them to throw something down into the opening, or simply spit at it. He had seen even small children throw rotten vegetables and stones down through the grate as he waited for the darkness to fall. He needed to get the girls out of there and out of this city.
Above one side of the grate there was an overhanging balcony. It was too high to stop the rain from falling in, or provide shade for those in the dungeon, but it was in just the right spot for Liden’s purposes.
Clang.
Clang.
Clang.
One of the soldiers came around the bend, walking around the perimeter of the prison. He spit down into the grate and tossed the core of an apple he had been eating. Liden waved his hand at Hunlok who stood up and brought a package to the guard house. The larger boy needed to deliver the gift to the doorstep and get out of there before the guard circled back. Liden waited. The guard seemed to be in some kind of hurry by the way he cut across the yard and headed back to his quarters. For a long moment, both the guard and Hunlok were out of his sight and he held his breath and waited. Looking down to Debir, he shrugged his shoulders. He needed Hunlok before he could move forward. Without any hesitation, Debir ran out crossing the field dragging a rope behind himself. He crossed over the grate and started working on the stone wall. What was he doing? He hadn’t given him the sign yet! Liden could only guess that Debir heard the guardhouse door close and knew Hunlok was coming back. Why else would he have moved? He grabbed the large crossbow that was at his side and raised it up checking the rope that went through a ring that was attached to the strange bolt Debir had constructed. Hunlok was still not in sight, but Debir was attaching the pulley on the building, so he needed to get moving. It was time.
Liden set the crossbow to his shoulder and aimed at the balcony that was over the grate. He had one shot and he had to make it count. He released a deep breath, leveled the crossbow, and pulled the trigger. The heavy stone-piercing bolt, with rope trailing behind, sailed through the sky, striking the balcony with a satisfying thud.
From his position, he saw Debir freeze and he couldn’t help but hold his own breath as his gaze darted across the empty lawn. Debir returned to his work and Liden started breathing again. He began letting out more slack on the rope and it started to fall down, pulled by the weight of a large knot that kept it from just sliding through the ring. When it came down to the height where Debir could grab it, the boy untied the knot and threaded it through the pulley he had attached to the wall, then ran and tied the loose end onto the grate.
Liden turned with a start when he saw the motion of a person coming around the edge of the building. His hand went instinctively to his heart that was pounding so hard he was surprised it didn’t rouse the guards. It was Hunlok, but something was wrong. His head was turned to the side and he was talking and laughing. Before he had time to think about what has happening, a guard came into view next to Hunlok, walking straight for their pulley system.
The guard saw Debir and ran for him with his hand pointing out. “You there! Halt!”
Debir stepped back and raised his arms in the air. The soldier crossed over to him quickly and stopped when he got to the rope. He tugged on the rope that was securely fastened to the grate, then followed it with his eyes to the pulley, up to the ring that was bolted into the balcony, and across the street to a second pulley attached to the building where Liden was standing.
Liden waved his hand at the officer, the
n jumped off the building, grabbing the other end of the rope. Liden fell a few feet before the rope caught, jerking his arms like they would pull out of their sockets. But as Debir had calculated, Liden’s weight was enough to wrench the iron grating up off the ground. What he hadn’t calculated was Liden jumping abruptly, throwing the iron grate at the officer who was standing with his head tilted to the side and his jaw dropped wide open in complete confusion. The heavy iron slammed into him, throwing him against the stone wall where he fell in an unconscious heap.
Liden let go of the rope, dropping a few more feet to the ground, then rushed over to his friends. “Hunlok! What happened?”
“He got there just as I was bringing their box. So he invited me in to share it with everyone.”
Liden raised his hand to his head, “Oh no!”
“Can we pause story time and help me get this untangled?” Debir asked.
Hunlok rushed over and helped him untie the rope while Liden cupped his hands and called down the hole. “Knell? Sarta?”
“Liden?” came Sarta’s reply. “I knew you’d come for me!”
“Shh!” he called back. “I’m sending down a rope.”
Debir had unthreaded the rope so it now hung down from the ring in the balcony, Debir lowered the rope down into the hole while Liden and Hunlok went back next to the building and grabbed on to the other end.
“So what happened in the guard house?”
“We were about to go in when we heard the bolt strike. I tried to distract him by telling him what was in the package.”
“You did what?” Liden felt a tug against the rope and they started to pull. With two people pulling through two pulleys, the load came up easily.
“What else could I do?” Hunlok asked. Sarta’s head appeared above the ground as she was pulled up. She stepped out on the grass and helped Debir throw the rope back down for Knell.
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