Locmire's Quest: Book One A Tales from Calencia Novel

by Brian Hutchinson

  Chapter 7

  The Thief and the Third

  The castle dungeon was dimly lit and gave off a musty smell from the stagnant water that pooled between the cracks of the stone floor; mildew grew around the bottom of the walls. Inside each cell sat a rusty bucket for the prisoner's excrement, which was only emptied once a week. Rats ran freely through the mostly unoccupied cells. Moss grew on, and in between, the large square stones that kept the prisoners in and the rest of the world out.

  A middle-aged guard sat asleep in a chair next to the entrance of the dungeon with a large key ring dangling from his side. The door to the dungeon unexpectedly flung open as if an angry wind had slammed its fist into it. The guard bolted upright out of his chair where he was met with words of fury that sent him stumbling backwards to escape the wrath that was upon him.

  “What good does it do to have a guard who sleeps? Can you not manage to stay awake for a single watch?” Thaddeus advanced upon the guard and demanded, “What is your name?”

  The round guard answered, “My . . . my . . . my name is Charles . . . Charles Lintwood.”

  “Well, Charles Lintwood, you are relieved of your watch. Take yourself outside and start cleaning up the mess. The bodies need to be arranged for burial.”

  “The. . . the. . . bodies, my king? What bodies?” asked Charles.

  “Never mind you that. Do as you are told!” exclaimed Thaddeus.

  Charles did not hesitate. He waddled up the stairs, not looking back.

  “Locmire,” Thaddeus roared. “The man you seek is imprisoned here in my dungeon. He is a thief. He has caused the kingdom, and myself, great loss. He is the biggest nuisance in all of Galdarath. I do not think he is the one you seek.”

  In the first cell, the eight sets of eyes fell upon a man sitting in the corner; rusty shackles bound his ankles and wrists. His long, brown, stringy hair hung in his face. He was dressed in worn leather armor, with a leather hood hanging on the back of his neck. A dented tin pan full of small bones sat in the middle of his cell, no doubt the remains of his daily meal. The man looked up with a grin on his face. His white teeth shone through the darkness, a very unusual trait for such a ragged looking man.

  “Ahhh, my King blesses me with his gracious presence. Pardon me if I do not fall to my knees and bow,” said the dirty man begrudgingly.

  “You will watch your tongue, scoundrel,” said the King as he advanced toward the iron barred cell.

  “Thaddeus, may I speak to him?” asked Locmire.

  “If you must, but be warned, all that comes from this man’s mouth will be lies,” Thaddeus said.

  “Arr, nuttin like brudderly love!” Red added.

  Thaddeus shot him another look. His patience was running thin with Red. This man needs to learn to stay his tongue, Thaddeus thought.

  “Red, I think we should stay out of this. Let's take a look around,” said River as she took Red's hand and led him away.

  “Me never turns down da chance to steal away wit a purdy dame,” Red said as he let River lead him away.

  Locmire turned to the prisoner and said, “My name is Locmire from Fogarth. May I ask your name?”

  “Ha! I must be dreaming. A Wizard, all the way from the west, has come to see me. Well, I will indulge you. My name is Lot. Lot Caskill,” the Thief said as he made his way to his feet. “Why are you here? Did I take something of personal value to you?” he asked amusingly.

  “No, no you did not. I am here on an important quest and I require your service,” said Locmire.

  “A quest? And you need me? What is this? Some sort of trick, Thaddeus?” Lot asked as he directed his attention to his unknown brother.

  Thaddeus stared back at Locmire, but did not reply.

  “Lot, the Dark Wizard Hasbarie has returned. I am sure you have heard of him, as well as the Saviors. The time has come for the Saviors to unite once more. It is time for you to fulfill your destiny,” said Locmire.

  “Hasbarie? The Saviors?” he laughed loudly. “You must take me for a fool,” Lot said as he approached the iron bars.

  “I assure you, Lot, this is no ruse. Hundreds lay dead on the ground above our heads. The threat is real and it is upon us. We must go quickly. Come with us and I will explain the rest to you as we go,” said Locmire.

  Lot stood in awe. Can it be true? No, it couldn't be, he thought. This meeting did seem awful strange, though. There was a dire sense of urgency about the Wizard standing in front of him.

  “Suppose you are telling the truth. Why do you need me? What part do I play in all of this?” asked Lot.

  “You are part of the last of the Graystone bloodline, the bloodline to which the original Savior, Ryker, belonged. Thaddeus, the King, is your twin brother. The two of you were separated at birth for your safety. I know all of this must be a bit overwhelming, but you must believe me. You must fulfill your destiny, Lot. Come with us,” Locmire pleaded.

  “Now I know you are here to make a fool of me. I am no Graystone. Have you not noticed? Although I currently reside in the castle, I am not royalty, and I am definitely not the brother of this tyrant,” rebutted Lot.

  Thaddeus walked over to the cage and stared at Lot. Lot came closer to the cell door and the two brothers locked eyes, like two dogs ready to fight. Then something happened that took Lot by surprise. Thaddeus held out a large key ring, apparently taken from Charles unnoticed, unlocked the cell door, and gave it a hard shove as he stepped away.

  “The Wizard speaks the truth. As much as I despise the idea, I believe him. You are needed. It is time to repay your debt to society,” Thaddeus said.

  “Undo my shackles,” Lot demanded.

  Thaddeus walked apprehensively over to Lot and unbound his wrists and ankles. The heavy iron shackles clanged as they crashed onto the stone floor.

  “This is no laugh. If what you say is true and Hasbarie has returned, then what choice do I have? Fight and give the world a chance to carry on, or flee, and chance the world I know ending. If these are my choices,” he paused for a moment rubbing his wrists, “Then I choose to fight,” he said as he climbed out of his cell.

  “You have made this very easy, Lot. Come, we must go. There is much work to be done,” Locmire said.

  “I will join you . . . on two conditions,” Lot said as he stood frozen in his tracks.

  “You do not get conditions! You are lucky to be alive. Do not push your luck, rat!” erupted Thaddeus with rage.

  “Thaddeus, for the sake of all life on this world, you two must learn to coexist,” interjected Locmire.

  Thaddeus stared a hole through his brother, cracking his neck from side to side.

  “What do you require, Lot?” asked Locmire.

  “First I need my equipment back, all of it,” Lot demanded.

  Thaddeus did not say a word. He strode over to a large chest and unlocked it with his keys. He took out a satchel and two short swords and flung them at Lot. Lot caught them, looked into the satchel, and wrapped it around his shoulder. He sheathed the twenty inch blades to his hips. Thaddeus could not help but to admire the two dragon bone blades that the Thief carried. If these swords were actually his, and not stolen, then he was undoubtedly tied to Graystone blood.

  “Second, I require the release of my new friend here,” pointing over to the cell across from him. “He does not deserve this injustice.”

  Standing inside the cell adjacent to Lot was a small framed man. He was young, in his late twenty's, early thirties. He had short, dirty blonde hair and a scruffy beard. Although his frame was small, his muscles were well defined. He was wearing a gray set of trousers, a dirty white shirt, suspenders, and black boots. His bright blue eyes pierced Locmire's soul. Right away he knew man would be his third.

  “There is no way we are releasing this man. He is a savage. He was found at a nearby farm on his hands and knees eating a goat, still with life in its body. This man shall rot in here for his unnatural act,” Thaddeus said adamantly concerning the release of th
e prisoner.

  “What is your name?” asked Locmire.

  “My name is Caleb. Caleb Hawks,” answered the presumed savage.

  “You are not from here. Are you, Caleb?” Locmire asked.

  “No sir, I am not. I have no clue where I am.”

  “How did you get to this land?” Locmire asked.

  “I am not sure. A few days ago I was in the forest where I live, exploring a cave that I stumbled upon. A good bit back in the cave I stepped into a hole. I didn't know it was there. It was too dark. The next thing I know I was falling. I fell for a long time and lost consciousness. When I awoke, I was in a field with no clue as to my whereabouts,” Caleb said in one long breath.

  “Thaddeus, I know you have objections about releasing this man, but I do believe I have found my third warrior,” Locmire stated.

  “You call this man a warrior? Look at him. He is no warrior, savage maybe, but not a warrior,” said Thaddeus.

  “I was hungry! I hadn't eaten in days,” Caleb said as he climbed to his feet pleading his case. “Anytime I saw someone and asked for help they took one look at me and ran. What choice did I have? I was starving.”

  Locmire stared directly at Thaddeus. The King hated when he did this. He had only known the Wizard for a little over an hour, but he already despised his hidden stare. How does he even know what he was looking at with that cowl covering his eyes all the time? Thaddeus thought.

  “Fine,” Thaddeus said as he unlocked the man’s cage, “My words do not carry weight anymore. Do as you please.”

  “Caleb, you obviously overheard the story I told to Lot. There is another part of this prophecy that involves you. Three unknown warriors are to be sent to aid us in our battle. I have found two already,” pointing at Red and River. “I do believe you are the third. I can explain everything to you as we go. You are now free, nothing holds you here anymore. Will you join us?” asked Locmire.

  “I am here for a reason, I suppose. I have no knowledge of this place. I can't survive here on my own, I have already proven that. What choice do I have?” He looked around. “This is all very strange. I still believe myself to be dreaming.”

  “Haha,” laughed Lot. “Friend, I told you that I would get us out of here.”

  “That you did, and I am grateful,” Caleb said.

  “Can you defend yourself? You look like no warrior to me,” the King asked.

  “I can defend myself. I have been in war before, the Civil War,” Caleb replied.

  “There is nothing civil about war. What type of war was this?” asked Thaddeus.

  “It was an atrocious war in my world. It divided my country into two feuding factions, North vs. South. It lasted four years and many people died, over 200,000 from combat. I was one of the lucky ones who survived,” said Caleb.

  “There is no luck in war, only skill,” said Thaddeus.

  “Arrr, lad. Whur be yur homeland?”

  “The United States of America. Are you . . . are you a pirate?” asked Caleb.

  “Arrr, dat me be's. One of da last. Me set sail to da United States once, to do a lil tradin in a place called Nurth Carlina, not too frienly to an ole sea Cap'n like me self,” said Red.

  “You have been to North Carolina?” Caleb asked with wonder.

  “Aye, me has,” Red replied.

  “I hate to be rude but we must be off. Caleb, what weaponry do you require? I am sure Thaddeus can find you something lying around,” said Locmire.

  “I don't require weapons. I am all set, just looking forward to the time when we can sit down and hash this entire thing out. I would like to have my satchel back,” Caleb replied.

  Once again Locmire found himself having trouble understanding some of the words that were being used by his new companions. What does “hash it out” mean? This phrase was unknown to him, but he did understand that Caleb and Red were from the same world.

  “This one should not last long. What is he going to do? Destroy Hasbarie's forces with his bare hands?” Thaddeus said as he threw Caleb's leather satchel to him.

  “Something like that,” said Caleb as he examined the contents of his bag.

  “If that is your wish, Caleb, let us take leave now. We have much to do and much to explain to our two new party members,” Locmire said as he headed up the stairs leading out of the dungeon.

  As they left, River gave Lot a shy grin as she walked past him. As Lot's eyes followed River up the stairs, his view was blocked by a large man. The King wrapped his thick hand around the collar of Lot’s leather armor.

  “Listen to me and listen closely. Just because you were born of the same blood as me, it does not make you my brother,” Thaddeus said with a foul look on his face.

  “Nor would it make me ever call you mine,” Lot said as he ripped Thaddeus's hand away from him. “And I suggest you keep your hands off of me, if you want to keep them,” Lot said menacingly as he and Thaddeus peered into each other's souls, only inches apart from one another.

  Thaddeus turned and stormed off up the stairs. He stopped half way, turned to Red and said, “There should be some armor lying around down here if you want to outfit yourself.”

  “Me may takes ye up on dat offa,” Red replied.

  Lot was still standing in the same spot, shooting daggers at Thaddeus with his eyes.

  “Yur brudder be havin a hard time right now. Just lost his Queen an a bunch of his crew. It be new for him too. Juss give da lad some time. He be comin round bafore ye knows it,” Red said as he walked over to an old trunk.

  “Thank you again. I would have rotted down here if it had not been for you,” Caleb said as he placed his hand on Lot's shoulder.

  “Don’t mention it. No one deserves to be locked in a dungeon for being hungry and seeking a bite to eat,” he said as he watched Red pick himself out a set of leather armor. “This is all still very strange. Keep on your guard. We do not know what is really going on here,” the Thief said.

  Caleb gave Lot a nod and headed up the stairs with the Thief following closely behind him. Red slipped on his new, slightly used, leather armor and exited the dungeon.