“Unlock the door,” Malik said, stepping back.
Bran looked at the young scout, amazed at the man’s audacity and whispered, “It’s your Lich. You unlock it.”
Malik frowned but took the key without the rag, actually touching it. Bran instinctively moved his other hand to the hilt of his sword but realized he couldn’t grab it as he was holding a dagger. It was a moot point, however, as Malik gave him a dirty look and set the key into the lock hole, gently wiggling it as it resisted until it turned.
The sound of the lock tumblers moving sounded too loudly for the men, and before they could open the door, it was opened for them by a guard on the other side. Malik moved first, kicking the man who had opened the door in the torso and attacking the other guard with both men falling to the ground, Malik covering his mouth.
Bran jumped through and hit the guard on his head with his dagger’s hilt as the man had doubled over, and his blow dropped the Kesh onto his back, his eyes glazing over. He looked over just in time to see Malik thrusting his dagger under the other man’s chin with a gurgling sound coming from the dying guard. Bran covered the man’s mouth until he finished dying. The dancing light of the torches seemed unusually bright after having only the dull, ebony glow of the key to use for illumination.
“That didn’t go as planned,” Bran said, blinking to get his eyes adjusted to the brighter torches.
“No, but it worked. Get over to the opposite staircase and see if there is anyone on top,” Malik said, wiping his small blade clean against his leather pants.
Bran quickly crossed the bottom floor of the tower’s basement where there were plenty of crates, boxes, and other stores and provisions scattered around. They still had to climb one more staircase in order to reach the ground level. These guards were simply there as an added layer of protection for the sealed-off culverts and tunnels. Bran reached the other staircase and heard voices above, and then a sick feeling came over him and he looked at Malik.
Malik had completed his gruesome task. Bran’s guard would never wake again as the young scout wiped the blood from his knife yet a second time. Bran gave him a serious scowl as he approached. “That was not honorable,” Bran said.
“I don’t care about your honor. I care about killing the Kesh and retrieving a staff, so get over it,” Malik said, returning the frown.
“You’ve become nothing more than one of them murderous—” Bran never got to finish his sentence.
“Quit screwing around down there. Report,” a voice yelled down the staircase again.
Bran had learned long ago to fear the Kesh who spoke normally in the common tongue. They were more educated, more disciplined, and deadlier. He had lost more than a few good men to this caste of brigand, and that was what they were now facing. He turned to Malik and shrugged.
Malik put his dagger away and drew his bow, ducking behind a crate near the staircase opposite the one they came up. He nodded at Bran’s sword, and Bran drew his steel.
The sound of boots became louder as a pair of them descended the stone staircase. “You two louts better not be sleeping. Merm, stand guard here while I check it out.”
The guard came down the stairs with his hand on his sword hilt and the other using his spear as a walking stick, putting it out in front of him. It was obvious that while they were being dutiful, they were not expecting anything amiss here, though they had been told to expect trouble in the courtyard so the pair was extra cautious.
“By the master’s beard, you two get up,” the guard said, starting to walk across the tower’s cellar floor.
The other guards had only their legs sticking out as their bodies were obscured by the boxes and crates near them. Whether this was chance or Malik had staged it, Bran wasn’t sure, but he used the flat of his blade to hit the man in the back of his head.
Malik raised himself over the crate and shot his arrow up the staircase, and Bran heard a muffled thud followed by rhythmic thumping as Merm’s body came tumbling down the staircase. The senior guard whirled, momentarily stunned, and took a swing at Bran with his spear, reaching for his blade as well. Bran leaped back, avoiding the nasty, sharp point of the weapon, and watched as another arrow suddenly appeared in the man’s forehead, lifting it up and causing the guard to fall backward with one final thump.
Malik raced up the stairs and out of sight. Bran followed, keeping his sword out in front of him. The pair reached the main level of the king’s tower. It was exactly as Bran remembered it. Large and sparse, it served as the main waiting area for the king’s subjects. On the opposite wall was the staircase that circled the structure several times. Three hundred and thirty-three steps there were to reach the top.
The guards they had just killed were the main pair for this chamber. The sounds of partying could be heard loudly now just outside the massive tower. They were very close now. The king’s tower stood across from the main tower gates, and to its side was the queen’s tower, separated by the raucous courtyard.
“How are we going to keep them from raising an alarm now?” Bran asked, looking at the empty chamber filled with old tapestries and a few elegant cushioned chairs and small wooden tables.
“I’ll hide the bodies, and we have to hope they don’t go searching too intensely for them,” Malik said, heading back down the staircase. “Oh, and next time, swing to kill.”
The young scout disappeared below, and Bran ran over to the main doors that opened onto the courtyard. The peepholes were shuttered from his side, and he opened one and looked out. The courtyard was ablaze in light as the many bonfires and large oil lamps were lit, giving the entire area a festive feel.
There were many brigands having what looked to be a good time. Barrels of wine and ale were out. In fact, someone had stenciled wine in the side of two barrels, and at least three others had the mark of the Pickled Pig on their side, indicating they held the local ale from that pub.
A couple of drummers and horn blowers were making a mess out of a good tavern drinking song, and several of the brigands were singing along, having changed the lyrics to something more sinister and gruesome than the writer had first envisioned. Others were hooting and hollering, pushing one another and generally giving the impression that they were drunk. It was too contrived for Bran’s taste, and he suspected the entire scene. Bran was just about to close the peephole, when a door to one of the antechambers opened, revealing a fully armed guard.
“Any news on the spies?” the man said.
A voice right outside the door but to the side and not visible to Bran responded. “Nothing yet, sir, but Commander Hork said it would be soon.”
“Is the commander still up top with the wizard?”
“Yes, sir, the wizard is holed up with the northern barbarian for now,” the invisible guard said.
“Right, we’re ready, then,” the man said, and then returned, closing the door.
Bran shut his peephole and locked it with the small wooden latch that secured it horizontally. These troops were not Kesh—they sounded foreign and strange. Bran leaned with his back against the doors and breathed heavily.
Malik joined him. “What is it?” he asked, seeing the look of defeat on Bran’s face.
“The guards outside, there are many of them,” Bran said, shaking his head. “They look to be from another land, well-armed and armored and disciplined. Not the usual brigands we’ve seen before.”
“So it was a trap.” Malik stated the question.
Bran nodded. “I also heard him say the wizard is on top of the king’s tower with a northerner.”
Malik smiled. “That may be a good thing, then. We get up there, take his staff, and exit before they even know what’s happening down here. They are obviously expecting us to enter via the courtyard.”
Bran had no idea if that would work or not, but up till now, he had trusted the young scout and he would do so one more time. The pair headed up to the second level, and Malik paused to open the chamber door and peek in. Not seeing anyone, he
entered the room and started to pull down the rigging that held the tapestries to the wall.
“What are you doing?” Bran asked. “We don’t have time for this.”
Malik ignored him until he had a lengthy section of the braids used in that room, looping the coil around his shoulder and motioning for him to continue. “Never leave yourself with only one exit.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bran asked, trying to take the steps two at a time as Malik was now doing. When they reached the next landing, Malik turned to face Bran.
“Unless you can fly, I suggest we have a way to exit this tower in case we are trapped from below.”
Bran nodded, understanding that neither of them could fly, and he wasn’t about to count the steps up the old tower. They stopped at the last level and opened the door to the king’s sleeping quarters. Sure enough, the room was furnished in exotic but old furniture and tapestries, and there was an assortment of goods lying about. Several were of a distinct Kesh manufacture, and they both knew that a wizard had set up his sleeping quarters here.
Breathing heavily, they continued one more flight of steps until they reached the top and what looked to be a new door where one should not have been. Malik had put the key away, and Bran felt as if he never wanted to see it again.
“You ready?” Malik asked, pulling his bow again and looking at the Ulathan captain.
“Yes, are you?” Bran asked in return.
Malik nodded and motioned to the door. Since Malik had both hands on his bow, Bran reached forward with his free hand and gripped the door handle, half expecting it to be locked. He felt it move and understood that he could open it. Steadying his sword arm, Bran twisted the handle and pushed hard on the door as it flung open. Bran jumped out and to the side to clear the doorway and give the young scout a clear line of sight.
Two guards were on either side of the door, and Bran almost fell down, bumping into one of them. Without hesitating, he stabbed at the guard and felt his blade enter the man’s torso. The twang of Malik’s bow indicated an arrow shot at close range. Both Kesh guards fell instantly.
Looking up, Bran saw two other men across the tower’s rooftop near the crenelated wall. One was obviously a Kesh wizard; his metallic staff had a dim glow coming from its gemstone atop of it and he was dressed in a sky blue robe with a tasseled pointy hat. He looked very young, however, despite knowing that most Kesh magic-users were in their late twenties or early thirties, but it was the other man who caused Bran the most immediate concern.
The man was dressed in furs and leathers and looked absolutely wild. Long, dark hair flowed from his head, and he had a shield on his back and an immense sword protruding from between it and his back. Dull white bandages were poking out of various places, especially along the man’s torso. Muscles rippled where they were exposed by the patchwork of fur and leather clothing.
Bran heard the twang again of Malik’s bow, and with lighting quick reflexes, the immense northern warrior twirled in front of the Kesh magic-user, bringing the shield on his back between them and the wizard. Malik’s arrow hit the wooden shield’s iron banding, causing it to ricochet into the dark night sky, and without missing a beat, the man pulled the shield from his back with one hand and the huge sword with his other. A faint grimace crossed the man’s face as if in pain when he pulled the two-handed sword, wielding it easily in front of him with only one arm. The other had the shield, and he stood his ground in front of the Kesh.
The barbarian spoke in a strange language. “Krik ahun.”
The wizard had been talking in a normal-sounding voice until the pair of Ulathans had appeared. Suddenly the wizard screamed a high-pitched squeal that sounded like it came from a woman, and fear crossed the man’s face. Bran didn’t remember seeing any fear from the wizards he had fought in Cree and Fornz. This one, however, was different, and it gave him hope until he understood the man’s words. “Yes, Kaz, kill them. Kill them NOW!”
“This is not the right tower,” Salina said, looking around. “We must have entered the wrong door.”
“How do you know for sure, my lady?” Will said a bit more formally now that they were actually in their old castle quarters and old habits washed over the Ulathan soldier.
“I had to visit the king’s tower more than once, and don’t you get any ideas, Will Carvel. It was to help with the mistresses that the king was disposing of, and Bran always accompanied me,” Salina said.
“I would never imply any such thing, Lady Salina.” Will bowed his head for a moment.
“Perhaps you are correct,” Khan began, “but shall we ascend the tower and obtain our bearings first so we can see in which direction the king’s tower is located?”
“Good idea,” Cedric said, leading the way. He had spent some time here reading when he wanted to be alone.
Will motioned around. “Don’t you think it’s odd that there are no guards inside this tower?”
“No,” Khan said, following Cedric. “The tower is locked, and unless a second member of my order is here, they would keep these quarters vacant instead.”
“So you stayed here?” Salina asked.
“No, Ke-Tor was here and my old Arch-Mage was in the main tower. I stayed at the gate quarters while there were three of us, but we were not here for long and I left before I could move to either tower,” Khan said.
The group headed up the stairs, not bothering to stop until they reached the top landing. Will opened the door, which was unlocked, and stepped inside the chamber. It was a plush sleeping chamber, but dust was everywhere and it looked unused for some time.
“Strange,” Khan said.
“What?” Salina asked.
“I would have thought that a new apprentice would stay here with my old master in the other tower,” Khan remarked, heading toward a shuttered window.
“Don’t open it,” Will said, stepping forward.
“Why not?” Khan asked, turning to face the tall soldier.
“If this tower is supposed to be vacant, any notice of a shutter opening or open would give us away,” Will said.
The tactical prowess of the soldier was more than obvious. “He’s right,” Salina said. “Better to go up top and peer between the wall’s towers.” Salina was referring to the crenelated wall around the turret top.
“Wait a second,” Cedric said, moving around and probing the floorboards with his feet.
“What is it, my son?” Salina asked, moving toward him and leaving Will and Khan next to the shuttered window where the sounds of merrymaking wafted up to them from the courtyard below.
“I think I know why the Kesh didn’t find what they were looking for,” Cedric said.
“We were very thorough,” Khan began. “Am-Ohkre was most determined to find the ancient historian’s book.”
“Not thorough enough,” Cedric said, stomping slightly and looking for a floorboard that was loose. “You didn’t look in the queen’s tower, did you?”
“It was searched,” Khan said, and then he snapped his fingers. “But not by one of my order. We searched the main library, the king’s quarters, and anywhere we thought the king would hide the tomb, but . . .”
“But what?” Will asked, watching Khan step over the floorboards and scan the room, muttering words as his staff started to glow brighter.
“Before we could complete the search, we were attacked by Ulathans using the subterranean system below and we almost lost the castle, and then all three of my order were at the Gregus to deal with you refugees.” Khan looked around, giving them time to absorb his information. “My mage never returned to search, and Ke-Tor most likely either forgot or decided that Am-Ohkre’s quest died with him.”
“Or he feared finding it and having to give it to your High-Mage,” Salina said, looking down.
“Yes,” Khan said, peering through his gemstone around the room. “He would not want Am-Sultain to acquire it if Am-Ohkre wanted it. He would have known it was powerful and would first want to know its sign
ificance.”
“We know,” Will stated triumphantly.
“Yes, because the Arnen knew,” Khan stated, suddenly waving his hand. “Cedric, move back five paces and test the boards there.”
Cedric complied and felt the boards. All were secure. “Nothing,” he said.
“Right in front of Cedric’s foot, hit it with your sword, Mister Carvel,” Khan said.
Will shrugged, never getting used to the strange man’s speech, but he complied nonetheless, whacking gently at first and then harder at the wooden plank in front of them.
“Will they hear?” Salina asked, moving to the door and listening for the sounds of booted feet.
“No, they are too loud below and the wood will dampen the sound,” Khan said.
“You know, I was much younger when I thought I saw the king putting his chest in the floorboards, and I think I was mistaken. It was not in his chambers but rather here that he did it, but it must have been much longer ago then when I had first thought,” Cedric said.
“Found it,” Will said, kneeling down and pulling a small but heavy chest from the substructure beneath the planks.
A loud booming sound erupted from somewhere nearby, and everyone except for Khan strained to make out what it was. “Did you hear that?” Salina asked, looking at Khan, and suddenly the sound of revelry dissipated, being replaced by the shouts of orders and commands from Kesh brigands.
“Yes,” Khan said, moving toward the landing and heading up the stairs, not slowing or waiting for the others.
“What is it, Khan?” Salina asked, following the wizard.
“That was a fireball from one of my order,” Khan stated matter-of-factly. “There is a wizard nearby.”
“That’s just great,” Cedric said, running to catch up, leaving Will to lift the chest and carry it with him.
Covering the hole with a rug, Will followed, speaking to no one in particular, and indeed, no one heard his words except himself. “I hate wizards.”
Dead Druid: Claire-Agon Ranger Book 2 (Ranger Series) Page 37