Secrets at the Keep (Kingdom of Denall Book 2) (7 page)

“You have given me your power.” Dune nodded and fell onto the ground, limp. He had exhausted all his strength trying to heal her from the Han’Or, but it was too deeply a part of her. Maybe with more time he could have done more, but the poison was too strong for him. He turned his eyes up at her and she looked down on him. “That was very foolish.”

“I know what they have done to you,” Dune said in a slur from where he lay on the ground. “We will stop them, and you will never have to fear them again.”

“Or I will kill you and they will win,” she replied coldly. She stood up and glared down at the helpless magician.

“You are not one of them.” Dune said slowly. “You do not serve them anymore. We have saved you. You…”

“I know what you have done. And I know that nobody can save me.” She said slowly, looking distantly into the trees. “I will lose my sight, my mind, and eventually die not remembering any of this.” Dune struggled to move, but she motioned him to be still. “But right now I do remember. I remember that my name is Jinka. My parents were killed when I was taken captive. They fought for me; I was not abandoned.” Her voice was filled with emotion and tears began streaming down her cheeks. “Thank you for giving me that memory back, even if it was for just a moment.”

Dune struggled to speak, but could not. He simply nodded his head and blinked to let her know he could hear her words. “I will not remember this, but I want to know that I helped you bring them down. Melna is headed for Omer’s Keep. There they have resources, and they have practically secured a Stone of Power that must be protected until Mordyar comes.”

“What stone? When is he coming?” Dune’s voice was less than a whisper. He knew that Omer’s Keep was North West of Lexingar, in the opposite direction they had been traveling. With the advent of winter, it would take them at least two months to reach the Keep. It would practically be spring by the time they arrived.

“That’s all I know, it’s all I can say.” Genea looked around curiously, as if she was seeing the woods for the first time. She stood and walked into the trees, leading her horse by the reins. She smiled wide. “I think my mama is calling to me. I think my mama is proud of me.” Dune tried to reach out to her, to call to her, but he didn’t have the strength. Everything inside him wanted to help her, to heal her, to bring her home, but all he could do was watch her vanish into the woods as he lost consciousness.

In the training ground for the King’s Guard, Mylot groaned as he dragged a cart filled with horse manure from the stables out into the fields. The King’s Guard training was more difficult than Mylot had ever imagined, but in a very unexpected way.

His training consisted of learning the history of Denall, the geography, which families and baronies had power in what parts of the country. He also studied foreign policy, political allies, situations that might be volatile in other nations, languages and battle strategies.

What made it hardest was that after the incident with the seeker, he had not been allowed to touch a sword in over three weeks. He did have some physical conditioning, but it was all done without holding any weapons. He went from competing to be the best in Denall, to sitting in his room reading, then doing children’s exercises.

Although reading and studying about Denall was not his favorite thing, his parents had given him some education on these topics, and he was quickly picking up on all that Captain Conrad gave him to study. Unfortunately, after passing his tests each day, his reward was to change bed pans, muck out stalls, and carry water buckets. His muscles, he thought, were perfectly honed for battle, yet were screaming in disapproval at this treatment. His privileged life had not prepared him for this.

As he pulled the cart, he passed by some townspeople of Lexingar. The same people who had cheered for him in the tournaments when he won, now ignored him, and some even glared or called out that he was a coward for not having finished the jousting event. It was amazing to him how readily they could discount his lineage - that he was asked by King Robert to be a baron. He questioned as he hauled the load of manure, for the thousandth time, whether he had made a mistake in following Sir Theodore from the tournaments.

He dumped the load at the gardens, then turned around to return to the training grounds. He didn’t know which he hated more, pulling a cart filled with stinking manure, or going back to sit in his quarters to be tested by Captain Conrad. The woman was insufferable! Each day she ran him through drill after drill of simple sword forms that he had learned as a child, only while holding a heavy rock in place of a well-balanced weapon. “Faster,” was all she ever said, as if he could magically move like lightening if he did the same three moves a hundred times.

Then the sparing started. It was humiliating how she never wore armor, and often ate an apple while fighting with him. No matter what he did, she was stronger, faster and better. Then came the oft repeated rebuke, “Give up and go home, or move faster little mouse,” that he had come to loathe. He had never met a woman he hated so much.

He put the cart away in the horse stall and went straight to scrubbing the floors in the target range when he heard the familiar voice of Sir Theodore, returned from his recent recruiting trip.

“Captain Conrad,” he called out.

“Yes sir,” she sharply replied.

“Get your apprentice and follow me,” he said.

Mylot stood up and walked quickly to the back of the target range toward the exit, hoping that this declaration he had overheard was not referring to him. Being under her ‘tutelage’ for training was bad enough. He couldn’t stand the thought of being assigned as her apprentice. That meant going out on a mission with her, being by her side every minute. He would rather go with anyone else; he would rather stay and train while she was gone. He turned to hurry back to his room, but his heart sank when she entered the target range and called out to him before he reached the door, “Not so fast, little mouse.”

Mylot clenched his jaw and inhaled slowly to dissipate his anger. He placed the buckets on the ground and turned around. “Tell me he wasn’t talking about me.”

She smiled, “Sorry to disappoint. Believe me, I wish he wasn’t talking about you either. Let’s go.” She led Mylot through the training facility. The first three rooms they passed through were training rings that had weapon racks on the walls. He looked longingly at the swords he was not allowed to touch. The next was a long, narrow room with targets set up at varying distances. On the walls and in barrels near the entrance of the room were throwing knives, axes, bows, crossbows, and a variety of arrows and bolts. They continued through a second target range and Mylot looked at the stone walls and wondered how much time it had taken to tunnel out this vast underground barracks, and when he would get to use these lower parts of the training facility instead of being the servant to the other members of the King’s Guard. Captain Conrad stopped in front of a large, oak doorway.

“This is the secret knock.” She rapped her knuckles on the door in a rapid succession of slow and fast knocks, while smiling smugly at Mylot. “Please repeat it.”

Mylot, sick of being the target of ridicule, and nearly certain that she was giving him a hard time, brushed past her, opened the door, and walked in. “Hello, I’m glad that you’re here.” Sir Theodore was standing behind a large table. A map was rolled out and held down on four corners by polished stones. “What was all that knocking about?” he asked when Captain Conrad joined Mylot in the room.

She answered sheepishly. “It was nothing sir.”

“Good, then don’t do it again,” Sir Theodore barked, clearly not in a joking mood.

“Yes sir.”

“We just received a pigeon message from Peyton.” Sir Theodore pointed at an unmarked place on the map Northwest of Norwell Lake near the borders of Omer’s realm.

“What has he seen?” Captain Conrad cut in.

“He didn’t say.” He pulled a small scroll from his belt and read it aloud. “Urgent! Come now. Mordyar.” He set the message on the table. “Peyton has been a reliable source of information for years, but he has become somewhat eccentric lately. I don’t know what this message means, but we will need to investigate.”

Exhaling loudly, the captain leaned against the wall. “How many men should I take?”

Theodore looked at her then to Mylot. “I think the two of you will be sufficient.”

“Can I speak with you for a moment?” she asked, stepping in close to Sir Theodore and motioning that they should step aside.

“Certainly.” Sir Theodore stood still, ignoring her gestures.

“If I could speak with you in private…” she asked, nodding her head in Mylot’s direction.

“Is it about this mission?” he asked, again ignoring her insistent body language and the pleading look in her eyes.

“Yes,” she replied slowly.

“Then speak, as everyone in this room is equally involved in this mission.” Sir Theodore leaned back in his seat and folded his arms across his chest with interest.

Captain Conrad nodded. “Yes sir. I don’t feel that Mylot is ready for this. He has failed in every exercise, shown that he cannot obey orders, and this may prove dangerous.” She did not make eye contact with Mylot, or she would have noticed him glaring at her back.

“It may also prove to be a hoax,” Theodore interrupted. “I am shorthanded. The seekers we captured at the tournaments have been losing their minds, and we have no solid leads as to why they were here. I have a dozen men working to interrogate them. The recruiting has not gone well. You know that we’ve gotten threats to several prominent families, which means sending out one of our own with a patrol of soldiers to investigate. We’re shorthanded, and Mylot is stronger than anyone else we have. He is capable with the sword, and by your own
previous
reports, he is doing very well.” Mylot looked up, surprised that her reports would share anything favorable about himself, but she kept talking.

“Sir, he is strong,” she argued. “But he moves like a sloth.” She held up her pointer finger as if to begin listing off the things that Mylot needed to learn, but she was abruptly cut off.

“It is a five week ride to see Peyton. Be sure you stop from time to time to give him some lessons. Show him some of the geography he needs to be familiar with.” She was opening her mouth to protest again, but Sir Theodore cut her off. “That is my final word on this matter. You will take Mylot to investigate this message.”

He turned and addressed Mylot. “When we travel on missions, we try to not stand out too much. It can make people panic if they see the King’s Guard investigating. For the most part, people think the King’s Guard is just a group that stands behind the king. For this mission, you are under my orders to not salute Captain Conrad, and you will simply call her Bethany.” Mylot grinned and turned deliberately to look at the very upset captain. Sir Theodore cleared his throat to get Mylot’s attention, “She is your superior and you will still obey her commands as you would here in training. She will file a full report to me when the mission is done. Do you understand?”

“Yes sir.” Mylot responded. Although the entire mission seemed a waste of his time, and it was with a terrorist of a human being, at least it brought him some satisfaction to see how Captain Conrad squirmed at the idea that he would call her Bethany, and he was also interested in the fact that her reports over the last several weeks had been favorable.

Captain Conrad nodded in obedience, and then left the room. Mylot reluctantly followed.

Mylot returned to his room to pack his belongings and prepare to depart on his first mission. He was filled with excitement and some fear, but mostly indignation toward Bethany. How could she say those things in front of Sir Theodore? On this mission, Mylot was going to show them that he was an asset to this team.

As he rummaged in his satchel he found Maggie’s small chest. In the past weeks while he had been training, it had been a weight that he carried everywhere he went. His communications with Sir Rodnik had all been very brief. He hadn’t found Maggie, nobody had heard of her since the tournament had ended.

He looked down at the box, wondering what it contained, and whether Maggie even had the key to open it. If it wasn’t magically protected, with some effort he could break it open using some tool or weapon, but for now he needed to get it somewhere safe, and he didn’t have time to get it to Sir Rodnik before he left. He thought about leaving it in his room, but he knew he would be gone for at least three months, so he wanted a more secret hiding place.

Mylot walked confidently down the hall to the stalls. He had spent some time in the stalls and knew that there was a large exit for men and riders to leave the compound. Gapol turned his head when Mylot entered and he absently stroked the horse’s mane as he thought, then quietly walked past the horses and slipped out the door.

The stables opened into the stadium and Mylot found himself looking around at the empty seats. These seats had all been filled a few short weeks ago with people cheering for him.
Did I make a mistake leaving the jousting tournament?
He stood still, contemplating, but quickly realized he could not just stand around and enjoy the fresh open air, or consider his choices of earlier; he needed to hide the chest.

When he was a small child, Mylot had come to Lexingar to watch the tournaments or the knights practicing in the large stadium. He knew this area very well and knew exactly where he intended to put the chest. Mylot went to the side of the stadium where the king had been sitting and found a small crawlspace. He got down flat on his belly and squeezed himself under the stage. Once under the stage, he moved to a support beam and marked it with his hunting knife, then began digging. He dug down to the depth of his elbows, then placed the chest in the ground.

Looking down on the small chest he sighed, wondering again whether he should take it with him, but then he shook his head. Delivering the chest was his own private mission and he didn’t want anyone questioning him about it, especially Captain Conrad. He quickly buried the chest and went back to prepare for the journey west.

The next morning at first light, Mylot and the captain rode out of Lexingar on the main road east wearing nondescript chainmail hidden beneath sturdy riding clothing. It was not as comfortable or as safe as his custom plate armor, but Captain Conrad insisted, that was how they would dress on this mission. “Lake Norwell is south, why are we riding east?”

Captain Conrad looked sidelong at him, “Do you not remember the map I told you to memorize before our trip? I’m going to show you some trails that wind through the country. They are not always the most direct route, but on horseback they can be quick.” She kicked her horse into a canter and left Mylot to catch up.

When he was riding next to her, Mylot broke the silence. “Wouldn’t it be quicker to just ride down the main road, Captain?”

Captain Conrad slowed her horse back down to a walk and turned an irritated, flat look at Mylot. “For our mission today it might be, but you need to learn the trails, in case it is unsafe on the main roads. Remember, this is part of your training.”

“Unsafe on the main roads, that is ridiculous!” Mylot retorted. “I’ve traveled all across Denall on the main roads and never had any problems.”

Bethany snorted in derision, then addressed Mylot in a condescending tone. “Let me ask you this, Mylot of Tran. Have you ever traveled alone?”

“No Ma’am,” he admitted.

“All right, then please take my word for it. It is sometimes better to not be seen when you travel. That’s why we don’t dress wearing the royal crest, and why you need to start addressing me as Bethany.” She pulled on her reins and moved into the middle of the small road, forcing Mylot to fall in behind her.

Before she could get too far ahead, he asked another question. Although he was curious to learn, he also enjoyed how frustrated it made Bethany when he asked questions. “So, where does this road lead, Bethany?”

“Really? Another question already?” she asked, throwing her hands up in the air and spinning in the saddle to look at him. “Don’t you ever just ride in silence, even for a short moment?”

Mylot gave Bethany a smug smile. “Well, trainer, how else am I going to learn all the trails and seldom traveled paths of Denall?”

In a dry tone, she responded, “By memorizing the map I gave you earlier.” Then she cracked a small smile and shook her head from side to side. It seemed that she did have a sense of humor. “This road goes east, then turns north toward Omer’s keep and Hillside.”

“North?” he asked, knowing they were planning to go south.

“Yes,” Bethany explained. “The road turns north, but we will get off the road and head south.” She pointed with her hands to show how the road would veer and the direction they would travel.

After riding in silence for a few more minutes, Mylot plucked up his courage for a particularly irritating question. “So, Bethany,” he started, although it felt awkward to say her name, “What did you say in those reports you gave to Sir Theodore?”

She pressed her lips together deliberately before responding. “I didn’t think you’d let that just drop.”

“Not a chance,” he said with a grin. “You know, it doesn’t hurt to tell people they’re doing a good job.”

“Some people need their confidence boosted. Others, however, need to be brought down a couple of notches,” she said, pointing at Mylot. “You are strong, and I’ve seen you at the tournaments, but there’s so much more to this job than fighting.” She rode on quietly for a time, then after what seemed like a short internal debate, she added, “You might think I’m being harsh, or mean, or that I’m singling you out, and I am in a way. I’ve seen many soldiers come into the King’s Guard, and I’ve had to bury many of my friends who have had great combat skills,” she said with a somber tone. “I am going to push you as hard as I can in every direction until you have what it takes to survive. I’d much rather see you give up and go home, than watch you die because you’re not prepared.”

Mylot thought for a long time about what she had said. He thought the punishment of cleaning out the stalls had been retribution for their first meeting when he asked her to clean his horse, but perhaps it was something more. His disobedience had almost led to his death. She wanted to humiliate him so he would never disobey her orders again. All her drilling and training was to help him. While he knew on some level the training was for his own good, he had never seen Captain Conrad in this light before. “So you’re saying that you care about me?” he asked with a confident smile.

“Don’t let that go to your head,” she replied quickly. “I care about everyone in Denall, and I also care about worms that do their job to make the soil rich for farmers,” she added as she pressed her horse for more speed.

They continued east on the road for several hours, eating from their saddlebags. Before the sun set, Bethany dismounted and walked for a time, without giving any warning or direction to Mylot. She directed her horse off the road several yards into an open field. Mylot followed silently, suppressing the questions he had.

“We will camp here for the night.” Bethany declared, pointing to a small, open patch. Mylot nodded lamely, not knowing the first thing about setting up a campsite. “Please tell me you know how to start a fire.” He shook his head. “Set up a snare?” A blank look, “Well I certainly hope you know how to use that sharp pointy thing hanging from your belt.”

Smiling confidently Mylot drew his sword. “I think you’ll find that is one thing I do very well.”

“I think you’ll find that you are grossly outmatched. Put that away and I’ll show you how to start a fire.” She spun around and walked to a small bush.

“I thought you were supposed to train me,” Mylot objected, sword still in his hand.

“Your sword is not much good if you starve or freeze to death.” She lifted the green branches of the bush up and began breaking off some dried dead wood from the underside. “This is dry wood; it will help us start the fire. Go over to that bush and get some more. And for goodness sakes, put that sword away.” When she had gathered a handful of twigs, she walked to a pile of dried leaves and began gathering more tinder.

Mylot came back with his hands filled with some branches, some more green than others. “This training is not going so well,” she said when she filtered through the wood he brought. “We really need to work on following directions, first with the seekers, and now with bringing me wood I can’t use to start a fire.”

Because of his previous punishment he hadn’t been able to ask much about the seekers, so he latched on to this opportunity. “Why exactly is the King’s Guard so concerned with stone seekers? I didn’t really think they existed before the incident a few weeks back,”

Bethany led Mylot to a bush and again demonstrated where to find the dry wood on the bottom layers before she began explaining. “Mordyar is looking for the Stones of Power. If he can control them, he will have power over the Changing.”

“The Changing?” Mylot said trying to suppress a grin. “Now I know you are messing with me.”

Bethany shook her head seriously, “There are some things I’ll joke about, but this is not one of them. Mordyar is the greatest threat to peace anywhere in the known world. Every couple of years he attacks a nation, drains the supplies, takes the people prisoner and forces them to join his army. His objective is to find and control the Stones of Power so he can control the Changing. If that is his objective, then my mission is to stop him.”

“I see,” Mylot said skeptically. “So do you believe that the world will be changed magically by some powerful being?”

Bethany shrugged her shoulders, “I’m not sure what will happen, I don’t have all the answers, but I know that if there is some all-powerful being who has control over the earth, I don’t want it to be an evil power-hungry sorcerer.”

Mylot made a silly face, “So you’d rather it was someone like me?”

Bethany scrunched her face into a half scowl. “First of all, if you need to compare yourself to Mordyar to get an endorsement from me, that’s just sad. Secondly, I’m not sure you’ll like my answer,” she said with a shake of her head.

*****

Mylot slumped in the saddle from exhaustion and pain. The first week of travel and camping was a shock to his spoiled system. Days were spent in the saddle, and then the evenings were a routine of gathering wood, setting snares, and practice sessions with his dictator of a trainer. She never drew her sword, but instead had Mylot perform drill after drill focused on his hand-eye coordination and speed. Then, when it was all finished, he ate what limited food they could gather and dropped to the ground for an uncomfortable night of roots, rocks, and watch duty. He was convinced that this training regimen was meant to kill him.

He was about to fall asleep when Bethany’s voice snapped him out of his dreariness. “Perk up little mouse. Someone’s coming.”

Mylot sat straight in his saddle and tried his best to look alert. When they rounded the curve in the road a small group of five riders were coming at them, moving very quickly. Mylot’s hand went instinctively to his sword, but he saw Bethany’s almost imperceptible hand motion telling him to act casual.

Bethany raised her hand to hail down the riders. The lead rider returned the gesture and slowed the group down. “Is everything all right?” Bethany asked.

The burly rider moved up next to Bethany. “We’re just going back to Hawk Pass. There’s a large krydox up ahead about three miles. She’s just off the road, looks like she’s set up a nest.” The man pointed down the road where they were headed.

“Thanks for the warning.” Bethany pulled her horse off the road as the men galloped out of sight. She then turned to Mylot. “What do you think we should do?”

He scratched his head for a moment before speaking. “Well, krydox are very territorial and aggressive animals. One settled on our land a few years ago and we needed to arrange a hunting party, we had lances and crossbows, not swords. I remember on the hunt we had six men and the krydox turned its large horned head at us and charged. I couldn’t believe the power and speed that it moved. When they are charging there’s not much you can do but get out of the way.”

“Right, so what do you think we should do?” she asked again.

“Where is Hawk Pass?” Mylot asked, still not comfortable that he had enough information to make a decision, and nervous that if he made the wrong decision, he would receive another lecture followed by the silent treatment for hours.

“It’s about five miles back, a small horse path that leads north.”

Mylot turned in his saddle to look back down the road they had just come up. “Well that doesn’t help; we’re trying to go south.” Then Mylot looked at Bethany suspiciously. “Why are you asking what I think we should do?”