Shepherd's Quest: The Broken Key #1 (9 page)

“Can you help him?” Bart asked.

“I think so,” he replied. “You three stay here,” he told them as he got to his feet.

They watched him cross the room and pass through the door leading further into the building. “Phyndyr’s pretty nice,” Bart said as they waited.

“He seems to know you fairly well,” Chad replied questioningly.

“I’ve known him since I was no older than Eryl,” he explained. “He and my father go way back.”

Chad looked to him to expand further on the details, but he remained silent.

Just then, Phyndyr exited from the back with a scroll in his hand. “You’re in luck,” he told them as he came and sat back down at the table. “Usually it takes a day or two to have a specific scroll ready. But seeing as how I am training a new apprentice, I have a few scrolls lying around. He’s been practicing on various different Peasant Scrolls.” He placed the scroll on the table between them.

“Peasant Scrolls?” asked Eryl.

Phyndyr smiled and turned to the young boy. “There are three types of scrolls young man, Peasant, Noble, and King,” he explained. “Don’t ask me why they are named that, they just are. Been that way for as long as there has been a Scriber’s Guild.” Bart turned to Eryl and said, “Peasant Scrolls are the simplest types of scrolls there are.”

Phyndyr nodded. “That’s right.”

“So what does it do?” Chad asked as he looked at the scroll lying on the table before him.

“It’s quite simple really,” Phyndyr said. He taps the top of the scroll gently. “This scroll is designed to repair cracks in masonry, such as bridges, walls, or anything else made of stone.”

“How do you use it?” Eryl asked. His eyes were wide and full of wonder at the magic scroll sitting before him.

Phyndyr turned his attention to Chad and said, “First you place it on top of the cracked grinding wheel then say the word to activate it.”

“What’s the word?” asked Chad.

Phyndyr looked at him and smiled. “I can’t tell you the word or it will activate the scroll.”

“Then how am I to learn what the word is?” he asked.

“I will tell it to you in two parts,” he explained. “First I will tell you the last half of the word, then I will tell you the first half of the word. When you are ready to activate the scroll, you simply put the two parts together in the correct order and say the word.” He glanced to Chad and asked, “Understand?”

Chad nodded. “Yes.”

“Good. The last half of the activation word is, -nyx,” he said.

“-nyx?” replied Chad, trying to pronounce it just like Phyndyr did.

“That’s right,” Phyndyr said. “The first half is crit-.”

“Crit-,” pronounced Chad.

“Critnyx?” asked Eryl aloud. Suddenly, the scroll before them flared with a yellow glow, it lasted for half a second then went out. As the glow disappeared, the scroll crumbled into dust.

“Eryl!” cried Chad. “You wasted our scroll!”

“There, there,” interjected Phyndyr in a calming manner. “I do have another.” Eryl turned towards the others with eyes aglow with excitement. He had activated the scroll. He had done magic! “That was so cool!”

“Do it again and I’ll leave you here in Wardean,” threatened Chad. Then he looked to the table and noticed that it appeared the same as it had before the scroll was activated.

“Nothing happened to the table,” he observed.

“Of course not,” replied Phyndyr. “The scroll was for stone, not wood.”

“Oh, right” said Chad. “How much is this going to cost me?” Phyndyr put his finger into the dust that once was the scroll as he said, “A gold and three silvers.”

“For one scroll?” asked Bart. “I didn’t think it would be that much.”

“The price is for two,” Phyndyr clarified for them as he picked up a pinch of the dust on the table.

“Very well,” Chad sighed. After giving his brother a stern glare for making him pay for an additional scroll, he pulled out his coin pouch and removed the required coins.

Once they were on the table, Phyndyr collected them and then returned to the back for the other scroll.

Chad turned to his brother while they were waiting for Phyndyr and asked, “I trust we won’t lose another scroll? I don’t have enough for a third.”

“I promise I won’t say Critnyx,” Eryl assured him.

“Don’t say that!” exclaimed Bart and Chad at the same time.

Another minute went by before Phyndyr returned with the scroll. “This is my last one,” he told them. “Be a bit more careful with it than the first one.”

“Thank you,” Chad said. “We will.” He took the scroll and put it in his tunic for safe keeping. Standing up, he said, “I appreciate you staying and helping us.”

“Not at all,” Phyndyr replied. “Always glad to help out a friend.” Then to Bart he said, “Don’t be such a stranger. Stop by from time to time.”

“I will,” Bart assured him. “But we need to be going. It’s a long road home.”

“Surely you’re not going to ride back to Quillim tonight are you?” he asked.

“We have no choice,” replied Bart. “They need to get the grinding wheel fixed as soon as possible.”

“Good luck to you then and safe journey.” Standing up, he walked with them to the door.

“Thank you again Phyndyr,” Bart said and then they left him at the door. Once out at their horses, they were soon in the saddle and headed down the street towards the gate.

Phyndyr watched them ride off before he turned and locked the door. When he turned back to the street to head home, he saw a figure detach from the shadows of the building across the street. Once the figure left the shadows, he readily recognized the man. He also understood why the man was crossing the street towards him.

“Good evening to you,” Phyndyr said as the figure approached.

“And to you, Master Scriber,” the man replied.

“My shop is closed,” Phyndyr said. “I am on my way home.”

“I’m not interested in your scrolls as well you know,” the man told him. “I saw Bartholomew leave your shop?” It was less a question than a statement of fact.

Phyndyr sighed and nodded.

“Did he tell you where he was going?” the man asked.

He gazed at the man and decided whether he should tell him or not. To cross the man before him, or rather the people he represented, wasn’t conducive to a long and happy life. If it were but himself on the line, he wouldn’t have cared. But with a wife and three children at home, he couldn’t afford the trouble such defiance would bring them, even if it meant betraying a friend.

Then slowly, he nodded.

“Where did he go?” asked the man.

It was almost more than he could do to say the word, “Quillim.”
Chapter Six

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By the time they made it back to Quillim, the night was almost gone. Off to the east, dawn’s first light had begun to creep back into the world and the town lay quiet in the burgeoning morning. As they made their way through the streets to the mill, the only sound to disturb the silence was the clip-clop of their horses’ hooves and the occasional cry of a dog.

Chad reached around and shook his brother awake, he had fallen asleep behind him some time ago. “We’re back,” he told him. He felt his brother pull himself up from where he had been lying against his back for the last few hours.

“Hope it works,” Eryl said sleepily.

“It will,” he replied.

As they continued to work their way through town, Chad thought about how worried his parents had to have been. His note only said they would be back a little after dark, not the next morning. But once the stone has been fixed, all would be forgiven.

Out of the dark ahead, the giant arms of the mill came into view. They turned slowly in an early morning breeze. “Want me to come in with you?” Bart asked.

“Yeah,” replied Chad, “I’d like that.”

Bart nodded and together the three of them rode to the mill and dismounted before the front door. “Eryl,” Chad said, “watch the horses.”

“But I want to come in too,” he pleaded.

“Just stay out here,” his brother told him. Eryl didn’t look too happy but nodded and did as his brother wished.

Then with Bart, he entered the mill. Chad lit a candle that was sitting on a small table just within the doorway to dispel the darkness. When the light filled the mill, he saw where his father had already begun to dismantle the frame that held the upper grinding stone in place. Wooden sections of the frame were stacked in a neat pile against the side of the mill.

He took out the scroll and walked to the grinding wheels. “Place it over the cracked area,” suggested Bart.

“Yeah, I was going to do that,” he replied. Moving around the stones, he located the area with the crack and placed the scroll on top of it. Stepping back, he glanced to Bart with a grin. Then he turned his attention back to the scroll and said the activating word,

“Critnyx”.

The scroll flared with a yellow glow just as the other one had back in Phyndyr’s.

Only this time, the stone began to glow with the same yellow hue. Chad and Bart moved closer to better observe as the crack in the stone began to fuse together. The glow continued for a few more seconds after the crack was completely mended, then it went out.

“It worked!” he hollered in jubilation.

“Of course it worked,” Bart said. “Phyndyr’s scrolls always work.” Chad caught movement out of the corner of his eye and turned to see Eryl standing in the doorway. “The stone is mended little brother,” he said triumphantly.

Eryl stood there staring at the grinding stone without responding. The look on his face was not one of happiness or jubilation, rather it was a look of trepidation. “Chad…” he said then grew silent again.

“What?” his brother asked, his own good mood beginning to be dampened by that of his brother.

“The stones,” he said and pointed to the grinding wheel.

Chad looked at the stone but couldn’t see anything wrong. “It all looks okay to me,” he said.

Bart stepped back and that’s when his face fell too. His eyes flicked to Chad.

Grabbing his tunic, Bart pulled Chad back away from the stone so he could see it in its entirety.

“Oh my lord,” he breathed when realization finally came. The scroll had worked alright, but it had worked too well. When he had activated the scroll, its magic had worked to seek out and repair any cracks in the stone. Somehow the magic must have considered the gap between the bottom stone and the top as a crack as well, for the crack had been ‘fixed’. The two stones were now fused together.

“What are we going to do?” Chad asked. Crestfallen and in fear of what his father will do to him, he stood there and began to tremble.

“He’s going to kill you,” Eryl said. Not in the literal meaning, but Chad’s life won’t be worth spit when his father learned about this. Not only had he gone against his father’s wishes, but he made the situation worse.

Chad collapsed into a nearby chair and stared at the single massive wheel. An errant breeze blew through the mill and some of the dust that once had been the scroll was picked up and carried away. Visions of his family destitute and impoverished because of this played through his mind. He had only wanted to help.

Then from outside, footsteps could be heard approaching. Eryl stuck his head out the door to see who it was and brought it back in quickly. Turning to look at Chad with a frightened expression on his face he said, “It’s father.”

“Man you’ve got to get out of here,” encouraged Bart.

“Come on Chad,” Eryl said as he raced across to the door in the back.

Shaking his head, Chad said, “No. I can’t run from this.” He then turned to Bart and his brother. “You two shouldn’t be here though.” As the footsteps drew ever nearer, he pantomimed them leaving and said in a hushed whisper, “Now!” Bart nodded and with Eryl leading the way, they left a split second before Chad’s father entered the mill.

His father’s face upon seeing him was one of elation as he had been worried about him all night long. Bags under his eyes showed that he hadn’t had any sleep. Chad stood up and turned to face his father. Bracing himself for what was to come he said,

“Father…”

Riyan had pushed the flock relentlessly all the way home. The coin he had found was a constant companion as he continued staring at it, rubbing his fingers over it, and dreamt of the untold wealth that lay buried in a passage no man had trod in for ages.

At some point he came to the realization that if there were enough down there, he might be able to change the mind of Freya’s father. If he were rich enough, he was sure that the betrothal between Rupert and Freya would be annulled in favor of him.

He knew that he had some time before they would get married, as custom dictated that the betrothal must last a minimum of three months. That was to give the prospective couple a chance to get to know each other, and for their families to ensure this was in fact a good match. Though a broken betrothal was an extreme humiliation to the one being left and should only be undertaken under the direst of circumstances.

Quillim came into sight around midafternoon. The sheep had been voicing all morning their desire to stop and graze. He allowed them two brief stops to assuage their hunger, then it was back to the trail.

He angled the flock to skirt the town until he came to his home. When the sheep saw that they were to be put into the pen, they complained most heartily. Black Face was the worst. After all the others had gone into the pen, he bolted for freedom. Riyan had to chase him down and carry him back. Once Black Face was in the pen with the others, he shut and locked the gate.

“You’re back early,” his mother said as she came up behind him.

He turned to find her with a basket full of roots and leaves that have been a staple of their diet for as long as he could remember. Smiling, he replied, “I got over it and realized I didn’t really want to be alone.”

All the way back he had debated about whether to tell his mother of his discovery or not. He finally decided that she would only worry and that it would be best to come home with the treasure in hand before informing her.

When he saw her arc her eyebrows in question, he added, “Thought about going for a campout with Chad and Bart. Don’t worry,” he said before she could start objecting, “I can get Davin to watch the flock while I’m gone. He owes me.” Just then Chad’s brother Eryl appeared running towards him. “You’re back!” he exclaimed.