Quest's End: The Broken Key #3 (56 page)

Next to Lord Kueryn, Geffen produced the dart with which he had been struck back in Hylith. Casting a locater spell, he had the dart point to its previous owner’s current position. Moving on his palm, the dart indicated him to be almost due east. Exactly how far couldn’t be determined.

“Excellent,” said Lord Kueryn as he saw the dart pointing the way. Nudging his horse into motion, he and the others began making their way from the mountains to the hills below.

“One of the scouts returns,” Lord Hurrin announced. Now two hours from where the body of Erz lay, they were making their way through the low lying hills on the north side of the Tinderlock Mountains. They had to be careful as they were completely in Byrdlon territory now.

Turning toward the oncoming rider, Lord Kueryn brought them to a halt and waited for the approach of the rider.

“My lord,” the rider said once he drew near. “Riders to the north.”

“How many?” Lord Hurrin asked.

“At least a score,” the scout replied. Pausing only a moment, he added, “They wear the uniform of Byrdlon.”

“Are they aware of our presence?” asked Lord Kueryn.

Just then, they saw the soldiers of which the scout spoke cresting a hill to the north. It was clear they were heading straight for them.

“I believe so my lord,” the scout said.

Lord Kueryn remained where he was and watched them approach. As the scout had said, they wore the uniforms of Byrdlon. A murmur began running through his men as the soldiers approached which he quickly squelched.

When the soldiers drew near, they slowed then came to a stop. One rider with red hair and a scar across the bridge of his nose continued forward. A captain by the insignia he wore, he came to within two yards of Lord Kueryn before stopping.

“I was getting worried my lord,” Captain Lyrun said.

“There’s been a change in plans,” Lord Kueryn replied.

In an inn some miles south of Wardean, seven men took their ease in the common room. The Twin Oaks wasn’t what one would call a fashionable establishment or even above average, but for a roadside inn it was adequate. The lone girl who saw to their needs was quite the chatterbox. Any little comment set her off.

At the moment, she was regaling the men with local gossip as she occupied what had been an empty chair at their table. “…given the number of people who have spoken of the King’s Horde having been found, I’d say it was true. Though of course I haven’t actually seen it myself, being stuck here…er, I mean, having the privilege of serving such wonderful gentlemen as yourselves.”

“You said there were troubles in Quillim?” asked Riyan. They had heard disquieting rumors from different people during the last couple days, and he was quite concerned about his mother, Freya, and all the other people he grew up with.

“Troubles?” she asked. “I heard that all manner of men have been drawn to the area, most being those who you wouldn’t want to run into on a dark night let me tell you. But since Duke Alric sent soldiers to the area, things have quieted down. In fact, though I don’t know because I haven’t actually been there, or anywhere else for that matter, I even heard that before the Duke’s men arrived, several of the buildings, including the mill, had been destroyed.”

“The mill?” asked Chad, fear for his family naked on his face.

The girl, intent on her own conversation as she was, was oblivious to the effect her words had on her listeners. “Supposedly,” she replied. “Of course, having to stay here as I do, with no possibility of ever seeing more than…uh, interesting travelers such as yourselves, I wouldn’t know for sure.”

“Wenda!” the proprietress of the inn and mother of the girl, hollered. Having just emerged from the kitchen area, she was glaring at where her daughter was sitting instead of being about the business of the inn.

Wenda glanced over her shoulder at the disapproving stare of her mother. “I better be about my work gentlemen,” she said. Sighing, she came to her feet. “If you’ll excuse me,” she said then crossed the common room and disappeared into the kitchen.

“I’m sure your family is alright,” Riyan assured Chad.

“This is all my fault,” he said. Emotions began getting the better of him as a tear appeared in his eye. “First I ruin the grinding wheels, now the mill is gone.” Turning to Riyan he asked, “What will my parents live on with the mill gone?”

“Enough of that!” interjected Bart. Once Chad turned to look at him, he continued. “This is no more your fault than mine. There are many bad people in the world, I should know.” Then lowering his voice so none of the other patrons could hear, he added, “Once we open the Horde, their worries will be over.”

Chad brightened a bit at hearing that, and nodded. “I just hope they’re alright,” he finally said.

“So do I,” agreed Bart. “Wonder how old Rebecca is doing?” She was the elderly widow woman whom he had helped out with odd jobs before they left in search of the key segments.

Riyan smiled at that. “Most likely as ornery as ever,” he replied.

Bart laughed, “You got that right.”

“So your home is only a day away?” asked Chyfe.

“Yes,” replied Riyan. “We should arrive sometime tomorrow night.”

“Ah,” said Chyfe. “Then what are you planning to do once we get there?”

“What do you mean?” Riyan asked.

“What I mean,” he explained, “is that by this time your whole village will have heard the rumors regarding the Horde.” He glanced from Riyan to Bart, then Chad, then back to Riyan. “Should you three ride in, things could get a little crazy.”

Bart nodded. “I see what you mean.”

“I know you want to find out about your families first,” Seth said, joining the conversation. “See if they’re okay. But if we want to keep the location of the Horde secret and to ourselves…”

“…then we can’t very well walk in, announcing our return to everyone,” finished Bart.

“Exactly,” agreed Seth.

“Once the location of the Horde becomes general knowledge, there’s no telling what will become of it,” added Soth.

Each remembered the way the River Man and his people had desecrated the dead in the underground complex near the Wrath of Hennon. None wished the same fate to be visited upon the King and all the rest entombed with him. The secret of its location must remain hidden at all costs.

“Didn’t you say the only way to your town was across a bridge?” asked Kevik.

“For the most part, yes,” replied Chad. “But when the river runs low, there’s a ford west of where the river meets the road, several miles south of the bridge. Why?”

“It would stand to reason that your home town and the area leading to it will be watched by others like Durik,” he explained. “Since no one knew where you three have been, it’s likely they would gravitate to where you’d be certain to return.”

“I’m sure your manor in Gilbeth will likewise be under surveillance,” stated Seth.

Kevik nodded. “Most likely,” he agreed.

Chad turned to Bart. “What are we to do?” he asked. “I have to find out if my family is alive or not!” His last few words were a bit louder than he intended and nearby patrons turned their attention toward him.

“Settle down,” cautioned Bart. As the patrons recognized nothing was about to occur, they returned to their previous discussions.

“Then what are we to do?” Chad asked again.

Turning to Riyan, Bart asked, “This ford, will it be usable now?”

Shrugging, Riyan said, “Maybe, depends on how high the river is running.”

“Let’s assume that it is,” Soth said.

Bart nodded. “If it is, we cross there and head into the woods,” he explained. “Then with the coming of night, we sneak into town and find out what’s what.”

“After our fears are put to rest,” said Riyan, “we go for the Horde.”

“And you get Freya, Chad helps out his family, and the rest of us live very well for the rest of our lives,” concluded Bart. Lifting his mug, he said, “A toast.” As six other mugs rose from the table, he said, “To life, and fortune!”

The next morning dawned sunny and clear. A warmer than average day, it whispered of the arrival of spring. It seemed incredible that they had been gone the better part of a year. So much had happened since Riyan rescued Black Face and discovered the underground complex they called The Crypt.

After leaving the inn, they took the road north for less than half a mile before heading cross country. As Bart was well known in Wardean, they decided to bypass the city in order to avoid encountering anyone that might recognize him. Once they reached the road north of Wardean, they returned to it and continued on their way. Bart felt regret at not passing through the city of his youth, but their prize was too close now to satisfy personal longing and risk detection.

For the better part of a day they kept to the road. Whenever others would be seen approaching, Riyan, Bart, and Chad pulled the hoods of their cloaks close to shield their faces until they were past. Fortunately, none gave them more than a causal glance.

Around mid-afternoon, the first trees of the forest in which Quillim resided appeared. “It isn’t much further,” Riyan announced to the others. He and Chad now rode at the fore since they knew this area better than any of the others. Once the road entered the fringe of the forest, Riyan led them from the road and headed through the trees. From there it was another half hour before they reached the river.

The area through which the river ran was wild and untamed. In places, trees grew right along the riverbank, their limbs stretching outward over the water. Riyan could tell the river was running low. The tops of rocks that were ordinarily hidden by its water were seen rising above the surface. “I think we’ll be able to make it across,” he told the others.

“How far is it to your village from here?” asked Soth.

Pointing off to the northeast, he said, “About an hour that way.” Taking but a moment to get his bearings, he turned to his left and headed for the ford. He didn’t get far before coming to the stump of a long dead tree sitting on the bank of the river. Riyan led them toward the stump then came to a stop.

“This is it. It’s may be a bit deep going across,” he explained. “But we’ll make it.”

“Lead on,” said Bart.

Riyan nodded then passed by the stump on his way to the water’s edge. Behind him, the others followed in single file.

The water ran smooth and quiet with only the occasional ripple and splash as it washed against the protruding tops of partly submerged rocks. Riyan brought his horse to the edge and encouraged it to enter with a slight nudge, first one step, then another.

As his horse moved further into the river, the water rose above its fetlocks and began moving up its legs. Riyan glanced back and saw Bart had entered the water while Chad was next in line on the shore, awaiting his turn to enter.

Returning his attention to the matter at hand, he guided his horse across the ford. Now a third of the way across, the water was touching his horse’s belly and they still weren’t at the deepest point. If memory served, it shouldn’t get very much deeper. However, that memory was years old as the last time he had passed this way was with his father.

His horse grew skittish at the rising water. “Easy boy,” Riyan assured him as he patted his neck. “Not much further.” Behind him everyone but Kevik and Soth had entered the ford.

Coming to the deepest section, the water rose to envelope the lower half of his boot. “A little bit more,” he quietly said to his horse, “then we’ll be out of it.” Continuing forward, his horse stumbled once on a shifting rock before regaining its balance. Then they were past the deepest spot and began climbing from the water.

Riyan glanced back at Bart and grinned. Bart returned his grin for a second before his eyes moved to look over Riyan’s shoulder and the grin faded. Riyan quickly turned to find a boy emerging from the woods, blood welling from a wound on his forehead. The boy was heading straight for the ford.

At first the boy didn’t see them and came to within ten feet of the riverbank before realizing they were there. He paused when he saw them, glanced left and right, then back behind him. His eyes came to them one more time before he bolted to the right.

“Eryl!” Chad cried. Kicking his horse into motion, Chad began splashing through the water toward the shore.

The boy stopped and turned in their direction. “Chad?” he asked. Then recognition came. “Chad!” Eryl exclaimed with great relief as he raced for his brother.

Splashing past Bart and Riyan, Chad was the first to reach the shore. He practically leapt from his horse and took his younger brother in his arms. He was shaking badly.

Disengaging from the embrace, he held his brother at arm’s length. Chad took in the wound on his forehead and saw that it still seeped drops of blood. “What happened?” he asked.

Just then, six soldiers emerged from the forest at a run. When they saw Eryl was in the company of others, they came to a stop. “We’ll take the boy,” a burly soldier said. The crest of Duke Alric was clearly emblazoned on his breastplate.

“What for?” Chad asked, turning to face the soldiers. Eryl moved behind him.

“He’s wanted for questioning,” the burly soldier stated. And from the way he spoke, it was clear he was used to getting his way.

Behind him, his brother said, “It’s not questioning they want me for.” Then he whispered quietly into his brother’s ear.

At first Chad showed no reaction to what Eryl was saying. Then his face turned red as rage filled him.

Burly Soldier said, “Just hand him over and there won’t be any trouble.”

Chad drew his sword and said, “I’ll cut your heart out if you so much as take another step toward my brother!”

“Brother?” one of the soldiers asked. Then, “It’s the miller’s son!”

The burly soldier looked closely first at Chad then to Riyan, and Bart. “So the miller, shepherd, and thief have come home,” he stated. “By order of Duke Alric, I’m placing you all under arrest.”

From behind Riyan, Bart’s laughter rang out. “I don’t think so,” Bart said. Behind him, the others continued emerging from the river as they completed the crossing.