The King's Gold: (The King's Gold Saga Book 1)

by Jenner, M

  “I thought he was your partner?” Svorn said, turning back to his mount and tightening the straps on his saddle.

  “Well…sort of. I do the hunting and he does the…erm…selling.”

  Svorn looked at Tez and raised an eyebrow; Tez suppressed a smile.

  Soon they were on the move, heading east. After a solid three hours’ ride, the soldiers came to a rocky outpost. The landscape was slowly getting harder under foot and the luscious green grass was sparser. Bok raised his hand and called a halt. Sliding from his horse, he studied the ground for a moment, then picked up some dried horse dung and crumbled it in his hands, sniffing at it.

  He walked up a rocky path through the rugged beginning foothills of the Eastern Mountains; soon he came to a clearing surrounded by a little sprinkling of trees. Svorn and Tez followed, watching intently as the ‘bounty hunter’ bent down to pick up a dried apple core, and something else that Svorn couldn’t make out.

  “What is it?” Svorn asked Bok, sounding slightly impatient.

  “Lemon-leaf pipe tobacco. Three people camped here not two days ago – and this, my friend, is horse shit,” Bok said, rising with his hand out, a piece of horse muck in his palm. Svorn looked at him without moving.

  Bok slowly turned his hand, letting the horse manure fall nearly onto Svorn’s boot. Then he dusted his hands off and walked past him back to the others.

  “Remind me of this day just before I kill him, Tez,” Svorn said, kicking the muck on the ground and turning.

  The party moved on and eventually came to a cave entrance. Outside the cave was the corpse of a half-eaten horse; next to this was the wyvern, burnt and charred. Vultures scattered as the mounted men rounded into sight.

  “What in the pit of Hades is that?” Bok said, jumping down from his horse and walking over to the wyvern.

  “Looks like the remains of one of the wyverns sent by the King to kill your friend Ty,” Svorn said, dismounting.

  “I guess it lost that battle,” Bok laughed.

  “Yes, unfortunately it does. But maybe the other wyvern got them,” Svorn said, walking over to the cave entrance and looking in.

  “Maybe, but I think these footprints say different. I think they hid in this cave,” Bok said, squatting at the entrance and peering in.

  “Tez, where does this cave lead?” Svorn asked, turning to his fellow soldier.

  “I think it’s one of the old ore caves that lead all through the mountains,” Tez answered. “I’m not sure where exactly they exit, but I should imagine somewhere near Breeze.”

  “Head through the two towers and look for the exit,” Svorn said. “Take half the men. I’ll follow Kern and his merry band through the tunnels and herd them out the other side, where you will be waiting.”

  “Yes sir,” Tez replied. “Good luck, and see you on the other side.”

  Tez picked six men and headed up the main rocky path, towards the two towers that had guarded the entrance through the Eastern Mountains, many moons ago.

  Svorn, Bok, and five of the King’s guard stepped into the cave.

  Chapter Seventeen: A Tricky Spot

  Ty felt the tip of the blade push deeper into the back of his neck. “Get up slowly, and leave your crossbow there,” he heard the voice say. As he slowly got back up on his feet, he tried to get a glimpse of his capturer – but every time he shifted his head the blade seemed to dig deeper.

  “Walk down the slope, slowly.” Ty didn’t argue. As he moved down the slope, he glanced at the backpack on the floor and thought about the chests. He also thought there was more than one person behind him; the sound of footsteps echoed around him. Reaching the bottom of the slope, he turned into the main room. Looking over to where his friends were hiding behind the massive stone slab, he could just make out a slight movement in the shadows.

  Ty’s captor pushed him forward into the main room towards the table where the elven man was trussed. As Ty approached the table, the tall man in the red robes turned and looked at him. Ty could now see that he was a half-orc priest.

  “What do we have here?” he hissed at Ty.

  “I found him up there next to the old supply exit, pointing a crossbow at you,” the voice behind Ty explained to the robed half-orc.

  “I was actually pointing at the elf; I thought I’d help you out,” Ty said with a smirk.

  Ty felt a blow to the back of his head. It wasn’t very forceful, but Ty seized the opportunity. He crumpled into a heap and, while balled up on the floor, slipped the ring from his tunic. He held it in his hand, poised between thumb and forefinger.

  He was hauled back up to his feet by his captor, whom he could now see was another half-orc dressed in leather armour, his face scarred by many blades that had gotten too close for comfort. Next to Ty stood two more guards. The scarred half-orc behind him kept his blade pressed to Ty’s neck. He yanked Ty around to face the orc in red; Ty’s backpack was slung in a heap on the ground.

  “What are you doing in my mountain?” he hissed.

  “You may not believe me, but I’m on a mission from King Moriak. If you let me live, I won’t tell him how you have mistreated me. If not…well, there will be one hundred of the King’s guards flushing you out of ‘your’ mountain before you know it!” Ty said confidently.

  The red-robed orc stared at Ty for a second, then suddenly let out a bark of laughter, which prompted all the other robed men to laugh as well. Ty could even hear the two men behind him chuckling.

  Ty looked down at the floor, his face reddening. Anger built up inside him at their mocking laughter, and he could feel the heat rising in his face. The sword that had been resting on his neck moved slightly away now, as the half-orc behind him laughed at his expense.

  An uncontrollable rage raced through his body; shaking, he thought. I hope you’re ready for this, Kern. He slipped the ring under his belt and released the daggers in his sleeves into his hands, took a deep breath and spun around, slicing through the throat of the half-orc guard behind him. Instantly the guard dropped his sword, both hands flying to his throat. Blood gushed through his fingers as he fell to his knees. Completing his spin until he was facing the red-robed orc, Ty released the dagger. His aim was true, but the orc parried the dagger with a swipe of his staff, like swatting away an annoying fly. Ty seized the dying guard’s sword and assumed a defensive stance.

  “Kill him!” the orc priest commanded, but before the guards could move, Kern and Galandrik had cut them down from behind.

  The room dissolved into chaos. Most of the robed orc followers scattered, running through the openings in all directions. Three or four disciples ran at them to attack, but they were cut down with ease by Galandrik’s huge axe; Kern barely had a chance to even join the fight. In moments, only the tall half-orc in red was left. Ty walked toward him, his eyes still ablaze with anger.

  “Not so funny now, is it, you maggot?”

  “Oh, that’s a matter of opinion, my short soon-to-be-dead friend,” the priest hissed walking slowly backwards.

  “I think you will be sooner than I,” Ty said, readying the dead guard’s sword.

  “I think not. Before you see the light of day again, I will have gutted you like the pig that your mother gave birth to. You come into my mountain, Tovlok’s mountain, and kill my men? You will die! All of you!”

  With those words Tovlok slammed the base of his staff down onto the stone floor; from its top came a blinding flash. Ty, Kern, and Galandrik instinctively brought their hands up to their faces to protect their eyes, but the light seemed to penetrate their flesh, and they were blinded as if they’d stared straight into the light.

  Slowly their sight returned, and the room was empty. Even the dead were gone; it was as if they had dreamt it all. The only evidence remaining was the elven man lying on the slab, his eyes rolling in his head as though he had been drugged.

  “What the hell are we going to do with him?” Galandrik asked.

  “We’ll have to take him,” Kern answered,
cutting the rope and hauling the man upright into a sitting position. He looped an arm over his shoulder, and grunted, “Get the other side, Galandrik.”

  They got the elven man to his feet, supporting him as Ty grabbed his belongings, Ty checked the dragon-egg chests quickly, then noticed another green backpack which sat next to the slab. Being careful to block the others’ view of his activities, he swiftly picked it up and stuffed it into his own backpack.

  “Which way?” the dwarf asked, straining under the weight of the elven man.

  Ty ran to the exits. One by one he examined them, then finally turned to the others and said, “This one has a breeze coming up through the tunnel, but that’s about all I can tell you.”

  Ty led the way through the damp corridor, it was lit by lanterns hanging on rusty brackets. He held the half-orc’s rusty sword in readiness as he went, searching for traps every twenty paces. The tunnels turned east and west; they encountered two or three forks and guessed the way by following the breeze Ty had mentioned.

  Eventually they came to a square room with three exits, Fragments of the doors lay around the cave, and the hinges hung at awkward angles from the jambs.

  “Looks like these doors were smashed open quite a while ago,” Ty said, examining the scene as the others set the elven man down as gently as they could, propping him up against a wall.

  “Galandrik, light a small fire,” Kern said, retrieving a water canteen from his backpack.

  “I’ll give him some water, maybe we can bring him out of his stupor.”

  As the fire was lit and rations shared out, Kern slowly trickled water into the mouth of the elven man. Two or three hours had passed when finally the man muttered something. “Ped…lyn… My na… is Ped…lyn.” His fluttering eyelids settled and he seemed to fall back into a deep sleep once more.

  “Well, he had a lot to say,” Ty said, jumping to his feet. “Shall we go then?”

  “Sit down,” Kern commanded, shaking his head. “You know damn well we are not going to leave him, so stop being an idiot.”

  Ty sat back down in a sulk, crossing his arms and muttering certain disgruntled words under his breath.

  Another couple of hours passed and Ty got to his feet, “You two can look after sleeping beauty here; I’m going for a scout about.”

  Kern stood up, rubbing his injured shoulder. “Is that wise? What if you get lost, or come up against a nasty little imp?”

  “Ha, ha, you’re so funny,” Ty sneered, throwing his backpack over his shoulder. “If I do meet a ‘nasty imp’ I will tell him I know Kern Ocarn, the mighty ranger from the north!”

  “Whatever, but don’t come back bloody and bruised,” Kern said.

  “Shall I go with him?” Galandrik asked.

  “No chance!” Ty said. “You make as much noise as an ogre dragging a bag of rocks; you would alert every monster for miles! I’ll go by myself, and maybe I’ll find a way through this shit mountain.”

  Galandrik cast Ty a frown but knew deep down that the halfling was probably right. After Ty had left, Kern raised an eyebrow to Galandrik. “He will be back – probably running, chased by forty goblins,” Galandrik said laughed as the elven man stirred.

  Kern held his head up as, his eyes still rolling in his head, the man looked around, trying to focus.

  Eventually he spoke, rubbing his head as he did so. “What the hell happened? Who are you two? Am I dead, and where is my party?”

  “Whoa, slow down, friend!” Kern said, offering the elf some water. “We saved you from being sacrificed by some half-orc in red robes. You were laid out on a sacrificial slab, remember?”

  “No,” the elven man said after a sip of water. “The last thing I remember is coming into the caves to gather some ingredients; the rest is a blur. Did you see anybody else?” the elven man asked, still rubbing his head.

  “No, just you,” Galandrik replied, shaking his head.

  “Damn; maybe they escaped.

  “May I ask your profession?” Kern said politely.

  “Oh, magic really. Illusions, potions, spell-making; that sort of thing. We heard that some rare and unusual plants grew here and thought we would give it a look.”

  “No muscle, just cloth-wearers?”

  “We had a hired hand, but he legged it the minute we were ambushed,” the elven man said ruefully.

  “That sounds right,” Kern agreed. “You can never trust them; they are ruthless.”

  “Yes, this isn’t the first time. Anyway, my name is Pedlyn and I owe you my thanks,” he said, bowing his head as best he could. “You didn’t happen to pick up my belongings, did you?” he added, looking around the room.

  “Sorry, you never had anything with you that we saw,” Kern said, tossing a piece of wood from a smashed door onto the fire.

  Galandrik passed Pedlyn some salted beef. “You’d better eat, Pedlyn. You’ll need your strength to get out of here.”

  “Thank you,” the elf replied, biting into the dry chunk of meat and chewing thoughtfully.

  Ty walked down the darkened corridors; the passageways were lit only by the odd lantern. He counted the steps between lanterns – roughly one hundred. He tracked his progress and his turnings with a small chalk mark on the wall every so often, and gauged the distance he had travelled by the number of lanterns he passed.

  Eventually he sat and removed the green backpack from his own and opened it up. Inside were scrolls; leather bags full of leaves, berries, and other ingredients; a purse with some gold; an old stick, a robe, and hat; a couple of unmarked potion bottles; and a small spell book.

  Ty slid the gold into his secret pocket and picked up the book. Oddly enough, it wouldn’t open – no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get the covers to part. After a few failed attempts, he slid the book back into the bag and set it on the corridor floor next to him.

  Standing up he started off again down the corridor making marks on the walls under lanterns as he went. He reached a door made of oak, which seemed bigger and better-preserved compared to the other doors he had passed along the way. Slowly he bent down and looked through the keyhole, but saw only blackness. Pressing his ear to the door he heard the murmur of voices. Slowly he reached down for his lockpicks – then stopped, picturing the look on Kern’s face if he were to come running back with angry pursuers at his heel. He tiptoed away and headed back to the party. Twenty-four lanterns; he thought.

  Pedlyn was clearly feeling much better; the elven man was standing up talking to the others when Ty entered the room.

  “She’s awake then?” he said cheekily, looking at the elf.

  “Oh, I forgot to tell you, Pedlyn. We have another friend. This is Ty – or, as he likes to be called, Rat,” Kern announced with an introductory gesture towards the thief.

  “Hello Ty,” Pedlyn said, bowing his head.

  “No ‘thank you’ then?” Ty replied. Kern turned away, as if reluctant to witness what he knew would happen next.

  “I was going to get to that, young Rat. I am indeed truly grateful for your assistance in saving my life, and anything I can do to repay you, I will do,” the elf continued, bowing a second time.

  “Whatever,” Ty replied, squatting next to the fire and rubbing his hands together.

  “Ignore him, Pedlyn. He can be tetchy sometimes, and doesn’t like strangers,” Galandrik said, walking past Ty and nudging him with his knee.

  “I know you and I don’t like you,” Ty said with a sneer.

  “So what did you find, Mr. Rat?” Kern said, smiling at Ty.

  Ty explained the corridors, how they weaved left and right until they reached the big oak door and the voices behind it. The party decided to leave and after putting out the fire and packing their equipment they walked slowly down the corridor. Galandrik offered Pedlyn a dagger as they walked, which Pedlyn gratefully accepted.

  “I am not very skilled with a blade, but will do my best if we meet anything along the way,” he said.

  “Try not to cut yours
elf,” Ty laughed from the front, watching discreetly for his wall markings and counting them. They walked on, going further down the tunnels and deeper into the mountain with every step.

  “Wait!” Pedlyn said in astonishment, pointing at a green bag on the floor. “That’s my backpack,” he explained. Walking swiftly over to it, he picked it up and looked inside. “All there, apart from the gold,” he said a few moments later, smiling. “I wonder how it came to be left here,” the elf mused, drawing out the robe and hat and donning both items.

  “I wonder indeed,” Kern said, glaring at Ty.

  “I’m surprised you didn’t trip over it when you walked past here earlier, Ty,” Galandrik added.

  “I must have missed it, walked right past it,” Ty replied, avoiding eye contact with Kern, knowing the stare he would get. He rubbed the old wound on his shoulder uncomfortably.

  They finally came to the end of the last corridor, revealing the big oak door. He listened carefully, then turned to Kern. He held up two fingers, then motioned as though he were throwing an invisible rock. Kern gave Ty a nod and a thumbs-up.

  “What on earth was that?” Pedlyn whispered.

  “There are two orcs behind the door,” Kern replied, drawing his sword as Galandrik hefted his mighty two-handed axe. “Ty calls orcs ‘rock-chuckers’,” he added.

  Ty pulled his tool pouch from his boot and unrolled it on the floor. Scratching his chin for a moment as he studied the tools, he finally selected two picks, then rewrapped his tools and replaced them in his boot.

  Ty stopped, holding his picks in place, and nodded to Kern, who slowly walked over to Ty.

  “Grab a rag and hold it around my hands to muffle the noise. I’ve got a feeling this might alert the orcs,” Ty said in a faint whisper.

  Kern nodded and pulled a cloth food-wrap from his bag. Carefully he held it around Ty’s hands as the thief went to work on the lock. After a few moments Ty nodded, and Kern stepped back, holding his sword aloft. Ty nodded his head once… twice… and on the third nod, he turned the doorknob.