Brothers Haymaker (Haymaker Adventures Book 2)

by Sam Ferguson

  The doorman nodded and turned to leave the parlor.

  Eustinian tapped his foot nervously, biting the nails on his right hand as he waited. After some time, the doorman returned, and gestured for Eustinian to follow him.

  Eustinian moved quickly, following the other elf through a dimly lit corridor of red marble with mahogany wainscoting. Portraits of elves and forest scenes blanketed the walls, with occasional doors breaking the monotony. Eustinian didn’t look at any of the portraits. His heart was thumping wildly, and his stomach was churning in knots. He wrung his hands as the two of them approached the final door on the left side of the hallway. The hallway itself ended with a seven foot tall, oval mirror in a golden frame. Eustinian wiped the sweat he noticed from his brow and then took a steadying breath as the other elf knocked gently and opened the door.

  The doorman stepped in first, cleared his throat, and then announced, “Master Cartographer Eustinian Fink, to see you my lord.”

  Eustinian waited in the doorway, pausing with his head bowed reverently for a moment until he was permitted to enter.

  “Come in, Eustinian, it is always nice to see you.”

  The doorman bowed and exited the room.

  Eustinian walked inside and the doorman pulled the door closed behind him. Eustinian took three steps into the room, stopping just before large, rectangular rug began. On the opposite side of the rug, a great desk of rich cherry wood was situated with books and baubles cluttered atop it. A smoking beaker sat on a round, stone pedestal off near the one candelabra in the room that was lit. There were, in fact, six candelabras in the large room, one in each corner and two flanking the desk, but only the one in the far right corner was in use.

  Behind the desk another elf with long, flowing white hair sat with his back turned to Eustinian. He was hunched over, moving as though he were writing something on a piece of paper on a table behind the desk.

  “Wouldn’t you like more light?” Eustinian asked to break the silence.

  “Sometimes I find the darkness more soothing, don’t you think?”

  Eustinian frowned at the response. “I suppose it can be, master,” Eustinian replied.

  The elf cleared his throat and called out over his shoulder. “I doubt you have disturbed my work to discuss my candles. Come, tell me what is bothering you.”

  The other elf turned his chair to the left ever so slightly and looked toward Eustinian.

  The cartographer had never before been in the master’s personal study. He had always dealt with his servants, or lower ranking members of the family, but never with the patriarch himself. He couldn’t quite make out Larkyn’s face in the dim light behind the thick locks of white hair.

  “Go on,” Larkyn commanded. “Speak.”

  Eustinian nodded nervously and reached up to scratch his head. “It’s about Raven, my lord.”

  “Raven has been dealt with,” Larkyn replied evenly.

  “T-true,” Eustinian said. “What I mean to say is that others have come looking for him.”

  “How do you know this?” Larkyn asked as he turned the chair back around to the right and continued working on whatever it was he had been doing before Eustinian arrived.

  “Another wizard has come. He came into my office.”

  “Did he ask about Raven?” Larkyn pressed.

  “No, but he wasn’t alone. Jonathan Haymaker was with him.”

  “Haymaker… I see.” Larkyn sat upright, with his back still facing Eustinian. He took in a deep breath, shoulders rising and then pausing before he exhaled loudly. “It would seem as though that particular family might be your undoing.”

  Eustinian paused. His hands trembled and his voice caught in his throat. The words were stuck, but he knew he had to force them out. Better that Larkyn hear from him directly. “Jonathan Haymaker knows about the map in Fort Sym.”

  Larkyn’s head dropped down and he groaned. “Eustinian!” Larkyn called out. “This must be dealt with quickly. We cannot let them poke around and investigate your involvement.”

  Eustinian dropped to his knees when Larkyn slapped the table with his hand and stood up. The cartographer kept his eyes on the floor and fought the urge to flee when he heard Larkyn’s footsteps approach him.

  Thump-thump-thump.

  Eustinian’s breath froze as a pair of black, curve-toed boots stopped just a few feet in front of him. He kept his eyes down and opened his mouth.

  “I thought we could stop them,” he said. “Perhaps if we find out where they are sleeping, we can take them.”

  “Eustinian, I forgave your failure when you had your map stolen from you in the Murkle Quags. I even helped you by sending trolls to kill the soldiers that had found you so that no human would know of your involvement. You cowardice, and ignorance I have overlooked, but your pride has come to haunt me. Had you not been so insistent on placing your initials upon the map, none would be the wiser about your involvement.”

  “But master, no one guessed the truth for more than two centuries, surely there must be a way to rectify this.”

  “Two centuries of luck do not justify the two recent incidents. First, Raven walks into your shop to ask you about your map, and now you have Jonathan Haymaker. You do know he is the one who killed the troll king, do you not?”

  Eustinian nodded.

  “Who was the wizard with him?”

  Eustinian paused, shaking his head slightly.

  “Who was it?” Larkyn pressed.

  “Ruben Faelwyn,” Eustinian answered truthfully.

  Larkyn sighed. “Now the Lehemat College of Mystics is involved. Do you know what this means?”

  Eustinian felt a strange, rough cord slither around his arms and shoulders. Magical tendrils wrapped around him and forced him to stand erect. A cold limb pressed Eustinian’s chin up and for the first time, he laid eyes on his master’s face. Fear and horror turned to confusion though, for he recognized the elf before him, and it was not his master.

  “You are not Larkyn,” Eustinian said.

  The other elf grinned wickedly. “Astute observation.”

  Eustinian opened his mouth to speak again. “Why, you’re—” a strong, barbed cord gagged his mouth and the rest of the words were muffled into a garbled mess.

  “Yes, I am,” the elf said. “Come with me, I have another task for you to complete.” The elf waved his hands and the large rug rolled itself up and the floor opened into a stairwell. Eustinian tried to scream as he was dragged down by the magical cords squeezing and constricting his body. Breathing became difficult for him, and his bones stung, as if on the verge of snapping. When they finally reached the bottom of the stairs, Eustinian’s eyes shot open wide when he made out the form of a very large troll standing beside a handcart.

  “Take this one to the altar. He has but little magic, unfortunately, but his life force shall strengthen the enchantment nonetheless.” The elf turned and smiled at Eustinian. “I trust you can at least die without messing up something else.” He smiled with his wicked grin and then looked to the stairs. “I have other matters to tend to. If you’ll excuse me.”

  Eustinian barely heard the words. His eyes were now fixed on the troll’s big, toothy grin. The troll lumbered toward him, and Eustinian then saw a long, dark tunnel extending out to the west for as far as he could see.

  A solid thunk hit Eustinian’s head, and his vision turned to black.

  *****

  Captain Ziegler sat with his arms folded across his chest and a brooding frown on his face. Everyone was silent while the captain thought about their next moves. The information Ruben and Jonathan had just relayed to them about Eustinian and the other map was something Ziegler had obviously not expected.

  Jonathan had a few options of his own he was considering, but he didn’t dare speak them aloud. Between interrogating Eustinian, sneaking into the mage’s council chambers looking for disciplinary records, or confronting Larkyn, none of the choices seemed overly exciting. He glanced over to the raven-hair
ed Miranda. She was staring at the floor and swinging one leg off the side of a large bed. She had hardly said more than a word since he and Ruben had returned.

  “I can go to Eustinian’s office,” Jason spoke up.

  Every head in the room turned to him.

  “You would go alone?” Ziegler asked.

  Jason nodded. “He hasn’t seen me. He doesn’t know me.”

  “But you are human,” Bull put in. “You’ll stick out the same as any one of us.”

  “If we had more time, we could worry about that, Bull,” Ziegler said over his left shoulder. “The truth of it is the fact that we are very much out of time. If Eustinian is involved, he has already been tipped off to our presence, and he knows what we are looking for. Whatever we want to do, we have to act now, before the enemy has time to regroup.”

  Jason pulled a forest green cloak from his backpack and put it on, pulling the hood up over his head. “With your leave, then,” he said.

  Ziegler nodded. “Very well, Jason you go to the cartographer’s office. Miranda, Bull, and Moose will come with me to Larkyn’s manor.”

  “You’re going to approach him openly?” Ruben asked. “If he is involved, that would not be wise.”

  Ziegler scoffed. “I don’t tell you how to run your department at the college, don’t tell me how to run a stealthy operation. The two of you had better get down to the wizard’s council. Look for the disciplinary record Friil spoke of. If you find it, then meet us at Larkyn’s home. If you aren’t there by sundown, we will leave and regroup here.” Ziegler stood and put a finger up in the air. “Nobody is to get here any later than nightfall, am I clear?”

  Everyone nodded.

  The room turned into a chaotic mess of commotion and then emptied before Jonathan had let his assignment sink in. He was paired with Ruben to infiltrate and elven wizard’s council. Ruben had a piece of paper, the one Friil had given to Ziegler, about the task, but he didn’t know the first thing about elf wizards.

  “Should I wear a cloak or something?” Jonathan asked.

  Ruben grinned. “They won’t fall for disguises or deception,” he said.

  Jonathan nodded and looked around, realizing his brother was already gone. “What is the plan?”

  “Sneak in, take the record, and sneak out.”

  Jonathan frowned. “Have you ever done something like that?”

  Ruben shook his head. “No, not really. Not unless you count sneaking into the cupboard to steal cookies when I was seven.”

  Jonathan slumped onto a bed. “Do you have any magic that can make us invisible?”

  Ruben shook his head.

  “Can you make us look like elves?”

  “No, and even if I could, elves have a knack for seeing through illusions. That wouldn’t work on them.”

  “Do you have a map of the building?”

  Ruben shook his head and handed the paper to Jonathan. “No, it just has instructions for how to find the hall of records, and shows the types of runes we are looking for.”

  “Can you read Taish?” Jonathan pressed.

  Ruben nodded and smiled slightly. “I am slow, but I can read it well enough.”

  Jonathan stood from the bed and read the paper more carefully, hoping that by looking at it a map might magically appear. He was not so fortunate as that.

  “We should get moving,” Ruben said.

  The two of them left the room on the third floor of the Gilded Pike Inn and made their way down to the main floor of the building. The atmosphere here was nothing like the spectacle in Sohn had been. There were several patrons, but they were all finely dressed and keeping to themselves for the most part. A small band played various stringed instruments, strumming soft, melodic harmonies through the air. Soon the two of them were outside and walking through the streets once more.

  They walked through the winding streets for more than twenty minutes before they came to a tall, cylindrical building made of black, heavily pocked stone and shimmering blue glass.

  “This is it,” Ruben said.

  “Is there a back door, or a side entrance perhaps?” Jonathan asked as he surveyed the singular door in the front. It stood open, but there was a tall guard there holding a winged spear and scanning all the passersby.

  “Come, I will use my position to get us into the building,” Ruben said. Jonathan followed Ruben as the wizard walked toward the door. As Jonathan had feared, the guard stepped in front of them and leaned his spear out to the side, blocking off the entrance.

  “Have you an appointment?” the guard asked.

  Ruben smiled and bowed graciously, flaring his left arm out and bending low before coming up. “I am Ruben Faelwyn, from the College of the Mystics in Lehemat. I have come on holiday and wanted to come inside and peruse the records.”

  The guard stood stoic, his green eyes unblinking beneath his golden brow. “A thousand apologies, but if you do not have an appointment, then I must ask you to make one.”

  “And how do I do that?” Ruben asked.

  The guard arched a brow. “If you do not know, then you must not be welcome.”

  Ruben balked and glanced to Jonathan. “I don’t understand, are you saying that because I have to ask how to make an appointment, you won’t tell me?”

  The guard nodded.

  “Well that’s absurd, how does anyone do something for the first time without asking for instructions?”

  The guard was silent. He lifted his spear and stamped the butt of the weapon on the flagstone walkway leading to the door. In answer to his gesture, the door slammed shut.

  Jonathan turned and walked away. It took a few seconds, but eventually he heard Ruben puff in frustration and turn to catch up with him.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Ruben asked.

  “We tried your way, but it didn’t work, now it’s my turn.”

  “Oh and what are you going to do, wait until the changing of the guard?”

  Jonathan smiled and nodded toward a coffee house two buildings down. “Trust me.” They went to the coffee house and sat down inside. A fine young elf maiden came to them and began placing saucers with biscuits and small, white porcelain cups with gold leaf along the rim before them.

  “What brings the two of you to Telward?” she asked.

  “He’s on holiday,” Jonathan said as he pointed to Ruben. “This is my master, Ruben Faelwyn, from the College of the Mystics in Lehemat.”

  The young elf maiden smiled wide and turned her attention to Ruben. “A wizard?” she asked.

  Ruben blushed slightly and nodded.

  “My master would like his coffee black, no sugar, and with a hint of mint and lemon.”

  Ruben looked at Jonathan with a curious expression on his face that seemed to be asking the very same question the young elf maiden voiced only a half second later.

  “Mint and lemon in coffee?” she asked.

  Jonathan nodded emphatically. “That’s how he likes it. He’s a bit eccentric, but sharp minds have a reputation for peculiar tastes!”

  The elf maiden nodded. “And what shall I get for you?”

  Jonathan shook his head and fumbled around, patting his sides and making a show of looking on the floor under the table. “Master, it appears I have left your papers back at the inn. I will hurry and get them before your coffee is finished. I’ll be right back.”

  “What inn are you staying at?” the young elf asked.

  “The one down that way,” Jonathan said, gesturing in the direction of the council building and hoping there was another inn nearby. “It’s the, you know the one right, it’s nearby with great rooms and…”

  “The Worewal?”

  “Yes, the Worewal,” Jonathan said. “I will be there and back with the papers shortly. Enjoy your coffee.” Jonathan then bolted out from the coffee shop, leaving Ruben sitting there with a bill to pay and a puzzled frown on his face. He skirted around the back of the building and then went for the one he was after. He had noticed a sh
ort, long house that stretched from behind the coffee shop all the way up to the back of the council tower.

  After ensuring no one was nearby to see him, he scaled the wall and clambered onto the roof of the one story building. He moved to the center of the roof and then hunched over to maintain a low profile as he hurried toward the tower. He knew the coffee wasn’t going to hold Ruben forever, so he had to move fast. At least now he wouldn’t have to try sneaking around with Ruben.

  He ran silently across the long roof, lowering himself to a crouch when he came close to the tower so he could study the windows facing him. As luck would have it, there was a large window that was open, and facing the roof. He leaned over to his right, but he couldn’t even see the entrance from this point, let alone the single guard that had stopped them. He took in two steadying breaths and then he ran for the open window and leapt through.

  He somersaulted across a thick rug when he landed inside. He looked up and saw a mostly rectangular room. The outer wall with the windows was slightly curved, of course, but the other walls were straight and parallel to each other. Live plants hung from the ceiling, with vines and leaves spreading down low. Several of the vines held strange, white globes that illuminated the room with a bright light. Behind him was a small, round table beside a singular, simple chair. To the left of that was a long bookcase that lined the wall. It was chocked full of tomes and scrolls.

  Jonathan pulled the paper out once more and read the directions again. “Once inside, take the stairway in the center of the building down to the lower level. The archives will be in four sections. You must go into the section marked with an…” Jonathan turned the paper to the side and stared at the Taish rune as though it were some sort of strange vomit retched up from the pen from which it was drawn. It may as well have been, for all the sense it made to him. Still, he memorized the image and then shoved the paper into his pocket.

  He rose to his feet and went for the doorway. He poked his head out into the hall and noted an elf pacing across the hall some forty yards to his left. To his right there were several more doors on the outer side of the hall, but there was only one opening on the opposite side. He decided to go for it.