The Troven (Kingdom of Denall Book 1) (2 page)

On his ride home in the dark, Franklin made a decision. He was finished with this part of Denall. Perhaps there was a Stone of Power closer to Pike Point.

Chapter 1

Dune focused on keeping his breathing quiet and steady. Any sudden movements, or even a change in the rate of his heart beat, could set off a magical trap and alert the stone seekers of his location. The robe that hung from his shoulders to the ground blended into the surrounding night forest, keeping him hidden from even the keenest of eyes. But that was not enough to get past magical traps. He inched his body into a crouching position, picked up an acorn, and brought it up to his mouth. He quietly whispered an enchantment into his hand as if telling the small nut a secret. When he performed the magic, the five red marks on his left wrist flared into a deep maroon color.

The acorn shell silently cracked as a green root began pressing its way out, searching for some fertile soil. Dune opened his hand into a cup and watched the root grow until it was an inch long. The live root was what he needed. He opened his hand, fully spreading his fingers apart, and with hardened air, magically threw the acorn up and away to land in the clearing that separated him from the seekers’ campsite.

When the acorn hit the ground, a ball of fire engulfed it. The acorn was burned to ash instantly. The stone seekers jumped into action, grabbing their weapons and rushing into the opening. Dune watched as they cautiously examined the open space, and found only ash. “What was it?” Edgar asked. This particularly vile stone seeker led the small group, and he had a special liking for magical items and traps.

“There’s not much left,” answered a younger man. He was new to their crew, but seemed to be the most intelligent. “It had to be alive, or it wouldn’t have set off all the traps.”

Edgar kicked the ground, and grunted in disapproval. “Those traps were expensive! You’re telling me it was just some squirrel that set them off?”

“Probably more like a mouse, or a small bird” the young man corrected. “There’s literally nothing left, so it couldn’t have been very big.”

“Ahhh!” Edgar screamed as he turned around and punched a tree. Dune was pleased at how frustrated Edgar was getting at the loss of some of his traps, but he was also delighted at the prospect that perhaps they wouldn’t use so many next time they made camp. Getting established as a hunter in the small southern village of Eaton had taken several months, and still he had failed to get very close to this group of stone seekers. They were polite with other villagers, but seemed wary of Dune as a newcomer. The only time he was able to get information from them was when he tracked them like this while they were camping out, doing some hunting, or visiting nearby hamlets. Dune was beginning to think that there wasn’t much he could learn from this group, and he would soon set his own traps to capture them and turn them in.

The stone seekers moved back to their campfire, with Edgar still grumbling about the loss of his magical traps. Dune circled around the edge of the clearing, ducking in and out of the darkest shadows. He cast a small spell of sound dampening on his feet before he got within earshot of their campfire.

“We can’t be sure,” came the voice of a woman in her forties, not much older than Dune. “What if she comes back here? Many years ago she did live here.”

“That’s just rumor. Nobody actually knows where she is,” Edgar responded. Not sure who they were talking about, Dune continued to listen from his secluded hiding place in the trees, careful not to touch any branches or make any noise. “Besides, it doesn’t matter,” he added. “We’ll be seeing all of them soon enough.”

“What about the man from Norwell?” the young man asked. “We have to look into the blacksmith, and besides, it’s on the way.”

Edgar audibly scoffed. “It’s just another dead end, like the cooper from Pike Point, or the carpenter from Gulpond. There’s nothing unique about a blacksmith staying up all night to work the forge, especially this close to the tournaments.”

“What if it’s not just the tournament?” he protested.

“It was your lead, you go look into it. I’m heading north.” Everyone around the fire remained silent for several minutes. Dune could hear Edgar’s loud, smacking lips as he chomped on his evening meal. He didn’t like how they were talking about a blacksmith in the capitol city of Norwell, but at least they seemed to have decided they would leave him alone.

There was a shuffling of people as they pulled blankets over themselves and settled in for the night. Dune was about to leave when he heard the woman speak again. “You know what I wish?” she mused. “I wish I could see the look on that magician’s face when he goes back home.”

Edgar laughed out loud, “That would be a sight, wouldn’t it, to watch that fool when he realizes he’s not as clever as he thinks?”

Dune stood frozen in place.
How did they find me? What did they do to my house?

“Speaking of traps,” the young man added, “do we have anything else to keep us safe tonight?”

“I’ve got something,” Edgar answered. “Everyone come here.” Dune watched as they all gathered around their leader. “It will trap anything that breathes in our camp, anything that’s not touching it when we activate it.” The three seekers touched the small artifact, and Dune quickly sucked in a deep breath.

“There,” Edgar said. “Now go to sleep. Maybe we’ll have a few squirrels caught by morning.”

Still holding his breath, Dune began walking away from the camp as quickly as he could. He didn’t know the radius of the trap, or how it would react to magic, so he kept walking in the dark shadows of the trees. After walking almost half-way around the clearing, his lungs were burning.

“What was that?” the woman asked. Dune stopped moving, forcing his lips to remain closed, his lungs begging for air. “I thought I heard something in the woods.”

“It’s probably one of Jeff’s mice,” Edgar responded in a tone that was beyond indifferent.

Not knowing how much longer he could wait, Dune began moving again, hoping they thought he was a mouse.

“There it is again,” she said. Firelight danced around as she pulled a burning log from the fire and began moving in Dune’s direction. He took longer strides, trying to quickly get away, but he knew she would reach the clearing before he could escape it. Not knowing if he was outside the magically defended area, and with his head throbbing from the lack of oxygen, he dropped to his knees, silently released his breath, then began gasping for air, as quietly as he could manage.

As he knelt low to the ground, the female seeker came into the clearing with a piece of wood in her hand. It had a small flame on the end, but it cast very little light, and went out when she waved it around searching for Dune. Dune remained completely still. Not only was it the best way for him to remain hidden, but his breath had sprung the magical trap and now it held him in place. He watched the seeker as she stalked around the clearing. She was not looking into the trees, but pausing every few yards to listen. Dune calmed his breathing until it was completely inaudible.

With his robe covering him, and his inability to move, he was quickly overlooked as the seeker checked the clearing. While she was searching, he reached out with magic and touched the trap that held him. Although it was serving a purpose for him at the moment, he knew he would need to escape as soon as the woman was gone.

The magic that held him was not overly complicated. It was air that had been hardened into an invisible barrier around his body. What was interesting about this trap was that it was still connected to the object Edgar held. By connecting his magic to the hardened air around him, Dune could manipulate the object and it’s magic. For a brief moment he considered reversing the magic so it would capture only the people who were touching the object when it was activated, but that would ruin all he had worked for. Instead, he patiently waited until the female seeker was done looking through the clearing, took a deep breath, and then he touched the hardened air with a weave of magic that unraveled the spell.

He quietly stood up, looked out into the night, and teleported away as far as he could see into the woods, landing a safe distance from the clearing and the camp. When he was sure he was safely out of the range of the trap, he began breathing like normal. He looked out to the north, the direction the seekers were heading. He didn’t know why they were going, or how long they would be gone, but after several months of waiting, he felt like this trip might bring him to their leader.

But first he needed to get one thing from his booby-trapped house, the one thing that he couldn’t have while standing next to a group of seekers. The Magic Stone.

Chapter 2

From his vantage on the roof of the Dungan Inn, not much escaped Kaz's keen eyes. From the moment he climbed up onto the roof in the early hours of the morning, he watched the sun come up, spreading shades of reds and oranges across the clouds. With his enhanced vision he scanned the distant forest line and watched squirrels dodging about on trees as if they were excited to see the morning. He looked up into the sky, watching as swallows flew in erratic patterns, catching insects as they made nearly impossible turns in the sky.

Now with the sun rising into the sky, the villagers began to appear on the packed dirt streets. The tall young man shifted slightly to ease a cramp in his leg, then rubbed his hands quickly through his short, light brown hair, and over his face to keep from falling asleep during watch duty. Like most people he observed walking through the small village, Kaz wore sturdy, undyed wool clothing that was a mix of natural colors.

A movement near the tree line outside the village caught Kaz’s attention, and he focused his sight, the four maroon dots near his left eye standing out as he did so. The leaves of an oak sapling shimmered in the breeze, and the shadows along the edge of the woods danced in the morning sun, but he kept a close watch on the spot where he had seen an unnatural movement. Something was there, just outside of his view, and when it moved again he would be ready. He shrugged his bow off his shoulder and eased an arrow to the tight string. Another scamper of movement to the left, then to the right, made him dart his gaze back and forth.
What are you?

Without warning, a bundle of hay flew out of the woods over a thick wall of thorns. Kaz drew his bow and released an arrow. His broad head arrow pierced the hay just as it hit the ground. “Nice try!” Kaz called out through cupped hands, though he wondered if the men in the woods could hear him.

From the woods emerged two members of the town council, the inn keeper, Barrels, and the owner of the general store, William. Barrels carefully pulled Kaz’s arrow from the hay and nodded in approval as William took dutiful notes.
Always keeping the watchman on high alert, even though there hasn’t been the slightest bit of excitement in years.
He understood the need to keep the men sharp, but sometimes the town council’s tests seemed absurd.

Kaz climbed down the ladder from the roof far enough to take his arrow from Barrels’ outstretched hand.

“It’s a beautiful morning for a walk in the woods,” Kaz said, knowing that their test of his skills had probably taken them on a mile long hike through the dense forest to ensure they stayed out of his enhanced sight.

“It is a nice sunny day, and the woods were pleasant,” William replied in a monotone voice that sounded like he was bartering a deal in the general store.
Sarcasm is lost on that one.

“You do understand why we’re out here, don’t you?” Barrels asked.

“To keep the village safe from bears and drams and…”

“Partly,” he interrupted. “However, it’s also to keep
you
safe. In just a few days you’ll be out there,” the large inn keeper pointed out of town to the east. “Your eighteenth summer is upon you, and your Troven will begin soon. You’ll need your sharp eyes, your fast hands, and your keen wits.” Kaz looked down at the ground, scrunching his eyebrows in concentration. It had never occurred to him that all the tests over the past several months were all to help him. The inn keeper tucked his hand under Kaz’s chin, lifting his gaze until they met. The older man smiled broadly and nodded at Kaz in a fatherly way. “You’ll do just fine. You’re a good lad.”

Barrels and William continued on their survey of the village, Barrels greeted people fondly while William paid more attention to his book of notes than the people he passed. When they were out of sight, Kaz climbed back up and sat down on the roof, taking a drink from his water skin as he watched the villagers go about their business. He wondered how many of them had played a part in his ‘training?’

The cooper took some cured wood from the lumber mill and the baker's son pushed a small cart filled with clay pots down the main street. He kept looking back and forth between the packed dirt streets of Dungan and the distant forest until Herleva came into view.
The most beautiful woman in the village!
It’s just too bad she got hitched before I could finish my Troven!

Kaz kept his eyes locked on her until she passed by the inn and disappeared behind the blacksmith’s shop. Seeing her pass by was the highlight of the morning. With the streets now empty, Kaz looked out past the village limits to Tunkin Lake. He knew there was a fish or two waiting for him there as soon as his shift on the roof was done.

After several more hours of observing familiar people pass through the streets of the quiet village, Kaz saw something that caught his attention and promised to provide some entertainment.

While the village council met, Fenn, the daughter of the village council president, sneaked behind the inn, probably on her way out of town to the Sigris farm again. Kaz snickered at her as she lifted her green dress just above her ankles so she could walk through some sawdust without getting any on her. He almost laughed out loud when she paused to check her reflection in a puddle of water. Although he and Fenn were casual friends, she was far too uptight and proper for his liking.

Kaz moved quietly to the edge of the roof and picked up a large pebble. He looked down at Fenn who was smoothing a loose piece of hair and trying to incorporate it into her long dark braid. While she focused on her reflection, Kaz tossed the small stone in her direction and ducked out of sight.

Kaz listened carefully to hear the stone splash, followed by Fenn’s fearful squeak. Although he couldn’t see her face, Kaz grinned from ear to ear thinking of the glare that was certainly directed at him.

“Where are you Kaz?” After a minute she continued, “Kaz Kinsley, I know it's you up there!”

Kaz popped his head into view and casually dangled his legs over the edge of the roof. “Hi, Fenn.”

“Kaz, what are you doing?” she demanded in a hushed, yet angry tone. “My heart is about to pound out of my chest!”

With a smirk he responded, “That's what all the girls in the village say about me.”

“You wish!” she retorted, wiping her hands down her dress to brush away any droplets of water that were still there. “The only time you make hearts beat is when we're rushing to get away from you.”

“Now, Fenn, be nice. I didn't notice you there,” Kaz lied.

Fenn narrowed her eyes and folded her arms across her chest. “I'm sure Gran will be thrilled to hear about your morning activities,” she threatened.

“You're probably right,” he said sarcastically as he began to stand up. “In fact I'd better go right now to the village council meeting and report all the
interesting
things I've seen this morning.” He gestured toward Fenn. “I'd hate to get in trouble for missing anything.”

“No, Kaz. Don't!” she said, obviously not wanting her trip to the farm to be reported. “It's probably best if we just go our separate ways and forget this whole thing happened.”

Kaz smiled down at her. “Sounds like a good plan.” He reached down into his tackle box and pulled out a special surprise. As Fenn turned to continue her secret trip he called out to her, “Hey, Fenn, can you make sure this gets delivered to your boyfriend?” Kaz tossed a small handful of worms at her.

The frightened girl shrieked and ran out from behind the inn, no longer concerned whether she was noticed. Kaz couldn’t help but laugh as he watched her make her way down the road. Every few steps her body shook like she was having a spasm and she rubbed her hands through her hair as if checking to see if one of the worms was somehow lodged in her perfect braid. Before she was out of his sight, her hair was teased into a complete mess.

* * * * *

The smell of fresh hay was one of Garin’s favorite things in the world. He inhaled deeply before tearing the bale apart, throwing some food into the stall for the lamb. While cleaning the stalls was not the most glamorous job around the farm, he tried to enjoy every minute he spent here before he had to go.

He moved one lamb into the clean stall, then turned and looked at another animal. “No complaining, little girl. You’re moving next once we get a clean place for you.”

“Baaaa,” it responded.

Garin patted the lamb tenderly, then paused before he made his way to the final stall. Through the thin wooden walls of the barn he heard some unusual sounds. The farm workers out far in the field were greeting someone who approached. While he couldn’t make out the specifics of what they were saying, he knew it was probably Fenn coming to visit, and they would send her in his direction.

He quickly began cleaning out the final stall so he would be done before she came in. As he heard her footsteps approaching he called out, “Just wait out there for another minute, maybe two. I’m almost done. “

The door swung open and Fenn stepped through it just as he tossed a pile of woodchips down for bedding. The wind from outside caught the small chunks of wood and sawdust, and threw them up into Garin’s face, past him, and all over Fenn’s dress on their way out the door.

“Oh no!” Garin said, raising his hand to cover his mouth. “I told you to stay outside; now you’re a complete mess.”

“It’s all right,” Fenn said between coughs.

Garin rushed over to her and started pulling loose pieces of woodchips from her hair. “Wow, that wind sure blew your hair all around too, didn’t it?” he observed as he worked to clean it out.

“No, the wind had nothing to do with my hair,” she countered. Her tone was very stern and she scowled as she looked over her shoulder in the direction of the town.

“Well I like it this way,” Garin said, trying to smooth over anything wrong he might have said. “I just have to move the last lamb over to this stall, clean out that one, and put the tools away. Then we can go for a walk down by the creek, or go check on the calves,” he offered as he reached down and moved the last animal into the clean stall.

To Garin's surprise, Fenn walked into the small, dusty barn and grabbed a second pitchfork. “Wait a minute,” Garin protested. He reached out and tried to take the tool from her.

“It’ll go faster if I help,” she insisted. Despite the dirty work and her inappropriate attire, she walked into the dirty stall, dug the pitchfork in and began throwing out the old hay.

Garin smiled as he grabbed the other pitchfork and worked next to Fenn.
This girl is amazing!

Together they cleaned the stall and filled it with fresh bedding. Garin loved working with Fenn, and imagined how things might be after he finished his Troven. He hoped that they would spend every day working side by side. When the work was done, he looked at her in complete dismay. Her dress had some dark brown smears, a layer of dust covered her entire body, and her hair was a disaster. “I think we need to get you cleaned up,” Garin said as he reached up and pulled a piece of hay from Fenn's hair.

They stood face-to-face and she looked right into his eyes. “It's okay, Garin,” Fenn began, “I don't mind farm work. Besides, I came here to spend time with you, and if that means I'm mucking out stalls all day, then that's where I want to be.”

Despite his feelings for Fenn, Garin stood awkwardly for several seconds, not knowing how to respond. He reached out to take the pitchfork and Fenn playfully moved the tool behind her back. As Garin reached around her and grabbed for the pitchfork he unintentionally placed his hand over hers.

With the tool in his hand he looked up and noticed he had closed the distance between them. He stood within inches of her, looking into her bright green eyes. She stood still, no longer playfully moving the pitchfork away, and slowly closed her eyes, tilting her head to the right. Garin closed his eyes and leaned in closer. He could feel his heart pounding and he instantly forgot about everything else but Fenn.

He soaked in everything about her; the way her hand felt beneath his, the intense beating of her heart, the rhythm of her breathing, and how her body felt against his. Then he felt her nose bump into his.

“Oh, sorry,” he said bashfully. “I guess one of us should keep our eyes open.”

Without saying a word, Fenn reached up and placed her hands on either side of his face and pulled him toward her. This was the moment Garin had been anticipating for years.

The door of the small building swung open abruptly.

“Hey Garin, we need to-” the intruder stopped talking and just stared at Fenn's arms around his twin. “Hi Fenn,” he said, looking somewhat embarrassed.

“Hello, Farin,” Fenn replied as she quickly put her hands down by her side and took a step away from Garin.

“I'll just be leaving.” Farin said, as he backed up slowly out of the building.

Just then Garin heard their father calling, “Is he in there?”

“Just lambs in there,” Farin shouted in return. “I'm sure he's out by the old well. Don't worry Dad, we'll find that obnoxious beast before it gets too far.” Then he added in a whisper. “You owe me big time for this one.” Farin turned around and let the door slam closed behind him as he left.

“Well, I guess you have to get going,” Fenn said with disappointment clearly written on her features.