Quest's end bk-3

by Brian S. Pratt

  “They shall remain here,” the River Man replied, “as they are until we return. If you are cooperative, then you and your friends shall go free once the Horde is opened.”

  “Very well,” replied Riyan. Glancing to Bart, he saw him nod. “We agree.”

  “Bind their hands,” Lord Kueryn said to the men holding them. Then to Captain Lyrun he said, “Have your men guard them until we return.”

  “As you wish my lord,” Captain Lyrun replied.

  Moving closer to Lord Hurrin, Lord Kueryn said quietly, “Leave twenty of your men here as well to keep an eye on the northerners.”

  Lord Hurrin nodded. “Yes my lord.”

  Turning to Geffen, Lord Kueryn gestured to the paralytic men on the ground and asked, “How long will they remain this way?”

  “Two hours,” he replied.

  “Good,” he said. Turning back to Bart and Riyan, he said, “Now, show us where lies the Horde.”

  “It’s this way,” Riyan said as he began walking along the bank of the stream. He feared for his friends they were leaving behind. But at the moment, there was nothing they could do for them.

  Lord Kueryn, Captain Lyrun, his mage, the two other lords, and ten of their soldiers fell in behind the two men. They walked in silence as Riyan led them ever closer to the entrance of the Horde.

  When the meadow which held the berry patch appeared, Riyan turned into it. “It’s here,” he said, walking toward the edge of the intertwined berry vines.

  “Here?” Lord Kueryn asked. Looking around the meadow, his mood began turning dark. “What kind of game are you playing?”

  “No game,” replied Riyan, “I assure you.”

  Next to him, Bart said, “It is here.” Turning to look back over his shoulder, he gazed at the River Man and said, “It’s beneath the leading edge of the berry patch.”

  Lord Kueryn looked toward the bramble of vines and then nodded to one of his men to take a look. As his man hurried over, he and the rest followed with Riyan and Bart walking before them.

  Knowing that something was there, the area Riyan had cleared to gain access to Black Face last summer was clearly evident. The soldier gravitated toward it and looked around. Picking up a stick, he pushed back the leading edge of vines that had overgrown it over the last year.

  “There’s an opening,” he hollered. Turning his head back toward his lord, he said, “It looks deep.”

  Lord Kueryn looked questioningly to Riyan who nodded. “That’s the way we have to go,” he said.

  “Break out the torches,” Lord Hurrin ordered. “We’re going down.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  In the passage below the opening, the equipment that had been left behind last summer was scattered all over the place. Once everyone had made their way down, Lord Kueryn directed Riyan to lead the way.

  “How did you find this originally?” asked Lord Geop.

  “One of my sheep had a weak spot for berries,” Riyan explained. “While he was helping himself, he must have fallen through.”

  “Interesting,” replied Lord Geop.

  Riyan led them past a smaller passage that intersected theirs on the right, then down to the main intersection where he turned to the right. Had he turned left, he would have led them to two bier rooms, one of which held a chest full of copper coins they had deposited there last time when their packs had grown too heavy. Not far past the intersection, they came to the collapsed passage on the left. Then a short distance past that was the stairs leading down to the next level.

  Keeping them in the lead, Lord Kueryn followed Riyan and Bart down the steps. At the bottom, they emerged into a passage running to their left and right. Riyan turned to the left.

  Lord Hurrin turned his gaze toward where the passage disappeared into the darkness on their right. “What’s down there?” he asked.

  “The dead,” replied Bart.

  “Do they have weapons, armor, and the like?” questioned Lord Geop.

  Bart hesitated a moment before replying. The scenes of desecration he had witnessed near the Wrath of Hennon came to mind. Realizing they’ll know soon enough anyway, he said, “Yes, but it’s in poor condition.” Behind him, whispered conversations passed between Lords Hurrin and Geop.

  Up ahead, their torchlight revealed another descending flight of steps approaching on their left. When they reached it, Bart and Riyan turned into it and took them down.

  “How are we going to get out of this?” Riyan whispered to Bart.

  Moving down the steps side by side, Bart leaned closer and said, “I’m working on it.”

  As the steps ended and Riyan emerged into another passage, he didn’t think their chances of making it out of this alive were very good. Moving to follow the passage to the left, he struggled to think of a way out. Not far from where they exited the steps, an opening appeared on their right. Entering, Riyan again looked upon the body of the King laid out in reverence.

  The room was diamond shaped with a stone bier resting against each of the four walls. Laid upon one was the King, the other three held what they believed to be lords that held fealty to the King. Above each of the four biers were a sword and shield bearing their respective coats of arms. Those coats of arms had played a critical role in the recovering of the key segments. In the center of the room was the opening of the stairwell leading to the final level, and the Horde.

  “The King,” breathed Lord Kueryn in awe. Moving toward the bier upon which the King lay, his eyes were fixated on the sword and shield hanging upon the wall.

  One of his soldiers came to him and laid a hand on his arm. “No uncle,” the soldier said. When Lord Kueryn turned eyes of anger upon him, he removed his hand. “Do not disturb the King.”

  “What do I care for a man long dead?” he asked. Turning his eyes back to the sword and shield, he said, “I must have them.” Unblemished by rust or the passage of time, they had to hold magic of great power.

  “But this is not right!” urged his nephew.

  Lord Kueryn again turned his attention to his nephew. “Do not try my patience Haran,” he said. Glaring, he held his gaze until Haran looked away. Then he moved toward the bier and pushed the King’s body aside in order to climb onto it. From there, he stood up and removed the scabbard from the wall.

  “Magnificent,” he said as he drew the sword. He waved the sword about, testing its balance and grip before resheathing it. “Unparalleled craftsmanship.” Turning a grin toward the other two lords, he hopped down from the bier. He then unbuckled his old sword belt and tossed it aside before donning the new one.

  “What about the shield?” asked Lord Hurrin.

  “We’ll take it when we leave,” he replied.

  His nephew Haran had a very disapproving expression and he turned it toward Captain Lyrun who was removing the sword and shield bearing the dragon-sword coat of arms.

  “You are correct my lord,” Captain Lyrun said, turning back toward the others. “These are remarkable.”

  Riyan and Bart stood near the steps leading down. Riyan had a fleeting thought of trying to escape while Lord Kueryn and the others were distracted. But then he thought, where would they go? They were in a hole in the ground. It wasn’t as if there were many places to hide down there.

  “Should we make a run for it?” he finally asked Bart.

  “No,” he replied. “I think I may have an idea. It’s a long shot.”

  “What is it?” Turning toward his friend, Riyan hoped it would be a good one.

  “No time to explain,” he replied. “Just make sure I’m the one to put the key in the wall down below.”

  Riyan looked questioningly to his friend. It didn’t make any sense, but he had long since learned to trust Bart’s judgment in such things. “Okay,” he said.

  The group spent the better part of ten minutes in that room before Lord Kueryn decided to move on. “How much further?” he asked them.

  “It’s down below,” replied Riyan. “We’ll pass through three r
ooms of the dead before coming to the sigil inscribed wall.” Motioning for them to precede him, they began descending to the lowest level.

  At the bottom, they emerged into a large room with thirty biers, each bearing a corpse of a warrior. Three pairs of two massive columns stretched from the floor to the ceiling.

  As they crossed through the room to the door on the far side, they maintained a quiet awe at being in the presence of so many dead warriors. Riyan was sure some of those following behind him were more in awe with the monetary gain they would receive from the sale of the accouterments of the dead, than of the dead themselves.

  Once they were through the door on the opposite side of the room, they entered another passage that after a short span, turned abruptly to the right. From there, it went on until they reached another room containing another thirty biers of dead warriors. Here too, six columns rose from floor to ceiling.

  Riyan and Bart angled to the left a bit as they headed across the room toward the beginning of another passage. Entering the passage, they moved to where it turned sharply to the left. From there, the passage continued for quite a ways before coming to a room twice as large as the previous two. Sixty biers lined this room, and six columns that were three times the size of the earlier ones rose to the ceiling.

  “Have you ever seen anything like this?” asked Lord Geop when he entered the room.

  “Never,” replied Lord Hurrin.

  A dark doorway gaped in the wall on the far side of the room. It was the beginning of the final passageway which would see them to the Horde.

  “It isn’t far now,” Bart assured them.

  “Then let us hurry,” Lord Kueryn replied. The anxiousness he felt in reaching the Horde was clear in his voice.

  Even Riyan, who knew he may very well be killed the moment the Horde was opened, felt excitement. For a year now, he has thought of naught else but finding out what was beyond the sigil inscribed wall. What kind of treasure had the King taken with him to the afterlife? Anticipation almost overrode the fear he felt. Almost.

  They passed from the large bier filled room and followed the passage. Like the two passages connecting the three rooms, this one too turned abruptly after a short distance. As Riyan turned left around the corner, he saw the long passage that led toward the final room. Somehow, he had always imagined things would be different at this moment. Never in his wild imaginings had he thought that he would be bound and leading someone else. His thoughts turned to his friends left behind on the surface. He hoped they would be alright.

  The air was charged with expectation as the final room came into view. It was as Riyan had remembered it. Just within the room on either side of the entryway were large, empty urns. Across the room from the passageway opening was the wall covered in sigils. At the base of the wall was a dais, two steps lead up to it. Lying on the steps was the skeleton dressed in ragged clothes. Its upper body was upon the dais with one arm outstretched toward the pattern of sigils on the wall. It was in the skeleton’s hand that they had found the first segment of the key which started it all.

  Lord Kueryn was amazed by the sigil inscribed wall, as was Geffen his magic user. “Incredible,” he breathed. His eyes were inextricably drawn toward the circular indentation wherein the key was to be placed.

  “Was that a friend of yours?” questioned Lord Geop.

  Riyan turned toward him and saw that he was asking about the skeletal remains on the steps. Shaking his head, he said, “No. We found him like that when we arrived.”

  “Who was he I imagine?” asked Lord Hurrin.

  “Probably just a thief who wasn’t careful enough,” replied Bart.

  “What do you mean?” asked Lord Kueryn.

  “The dais is trapped my lord,” he replied with a grin. “Good luck in trying to reach the wall.”

  Lord Kueryn looked again to the thief, then the steps leading up to the dais. His face turned into a frown as he glanced at the circular key held in his hands. Then coming to a decision, he said, “Okay thief, you open it.”

  “Me?” asked Bart. “But my hands are tied and I don’t have my tools.”

  Lord Hurrin pulled the familiar rolled leather pack that held his picks. “Do you mean these?” he asked.

  Bart didn’t answer.

  “Untie him,” Lord Kueryn stated. “Let the thief open the Horde.”

  One of Lord Kueryn’s men came and cut the bonds binding Bart’s hands. Then Lord Hurrin handed him his picks.

  “I trust they are all still here?” he asked as he took the rolled leather. Bart grinned inwardly as he saw how his words had scored with the lord. Turning to the River Man, he reached out for the key.

  “After this,” Lord Kueryn said, “you and your friends will be free.”

  Bart didn’t reply, he just took the key and turned back toward the sigil inscribed wall.

  “Good luck,” Riyan said.

  “You better hope he is successful,” Lord Kueryn said to Riyan. “For if he fails, you will be next.”

  Bart glanced to Riyan and gave him a grin. “It won’t come to that,” he assured him. He saw Riyan nod then turned to the wall. Taking a calming breath, he stepped forward.

  Riyan and Bart had no sooner left with the River Man and his men, than Kevik felt someone tugging at his pack. Lying paralyzed on the ground as he was put him in little position to object. There were a couple more tugs as they tried to get it off of him, then he felt the straps being severed by a knife just before it was taken.

  “You shouldn’t be messing with a magic user’s stuff,” a voice said.

  “Shut up and keep watch on the prisoners,” another voice said.

  From the way Kevik had been deposited on the ground, all he could see was Chyfe’s back and a little bit of the sky. Who had his pack and what they were doing with it, he didn’t know.

  “Anything good inside?” asked a third man.

  “Not for you,” the first man replied. There was a pause, then… “Must be his spell book.”

  “I hear they always have magic traps on those,” Second Voice said.

  “I know that,” First Voice replied. “I’m not stupid.”

  Another moment of silence as they continued rummaging through Kevik’s pack.

  “Looks like a wand,” Third Voice said. “Could be worth a few golds.”

  Then… “You better not open that,” said Second Voice.

  “What?” asked First Voice. “Are you afraid a demon will jump out and steal your soul or something?”

  “You can never be too careful when dealing with magic users,” Second Voice explained.

  “Oh come on,” said Third Voice. “Open it.”

  A couple seconds of silence pass then… “There’s nothing but gray powder in here,” complained First Voice.

  “Maybe it’s a spell component,” Third Voice said. “You can get a lot of coins for some of them.”

  Kevik felt control of his limbs return. Before him, he saw Chyfe’s back move ever so slightly. Working his jaw, he found that it moved. The spell holding them was gone! “Keep still!” he quietly urged the others.

  He desperately needed to know where their enemies were in relation to him and the others. Ever so slightly, he rotated his head to try and acquire a better look at their surroundings.

  It seemed like forever, but he saw where half a dozen Tribesmen were going through their packs. All their belongings were strewn across the ground.

  A plan began to form. He needed to neutralize everyone at once, and he needed to do it fast. There was only one way. “Listen,” he said to the others, “on two, take a deep breath and hold it.” Unable to ascertain if they understood or not, he quietly whispered, “One…two.” On ‘two’, he took a deep breath and sat up.

  “Hey!” one of the soldiers exclaimed. “The spell’s worn off.

  As Tribesmen and Byrdlon soldiers turned their attention toward him, Kevik focused on a spot nearby where the majority were congregating and cast his spell. A yellow fog envel
oped the men who quickly succumbed to its effects. He cast the spell again in a different area, this time taking out most of the Byrdlon soldiers.

  Once more, arcane words issued forth as Kevik watched three soldiers with swords drawn coming straight for him. Before the soldiers could reach him, he, as well as the oncoming soldiers, were enveloped by another of the yellow sleep clouds.

  Kevik took a moment to see if the cloud would affect him and the others lying next to him. He hadn’t been entirely sure that holding one’s breath would work. But as he was still conscious and all the soldiers were not, he had to conclude that it would.

  He nudged Chyfe into motion as he quickly came to his feet. To his relief, Chyfe, Chad, and the twins were getting up. They had heard him and were holding their breaths. Kevik turned toward where the soldiers had been going through his pack and saw that the small box which contained the gray powder was closed. He knew it would be, otherwise his spells wouldn’t have worked. For when the box was opened, the gray powder absorbed nearby, active magics.

  Chyfe grabbed him and indicated he should get out of the cloud.

  Kevik shook his head vehemently. He first had to retrieve his staff and other items which lay before him. Pointing to them, he shrugged off Chyfe’s hand and hurried forward. As he rushed to gather his things, Chyfe came with him and helped.

  Once everything was back in his pack, Kevik picked it up and raced for the perimeter of the yellow fog. His lungs were desperate to expel the old air, but Kevik kept them under control. When he at last broke into fresh air, he started gasping. Next to him, Chyfe hit the ground as he too, began drawing in deep breaths of fresh air.

  Off to their right, Chad and Soth were dragging Seth out from the yellow fog. When Chad noticed Kevik looking their way, he said, “Seth couldn’t hold his breath.”

  Kevik nodded then looked around the area. From the number of motionless forms lying in the yellow fog, he figured to have affected them all. Further examination of the area revealed that they were the only ones moving.

  “How long will that last?” Chyfe asked, indicating the yellow fog.

  “Not that long I’m afraid,” he replied.