Quest's End: The Broken Key #3 (64 page)

“Your magic user is quite formidable,” Haran said to Riyan. “To render Geffen powerless is no mean feat.”

Standing just within the passageway, they had observed the magical contest. “We must help them,” urged Riyan. His bonds had been cut and he was anxious to join the fight. Thus far, Haran and his five comrades had prevented Bart and Riyan from rushing to their friend’s aid. But now that Geffen had been neutralized…

“My countrymen and I cannot, and will not, raise swords against Lord Kueryn,” replied Haran. “To do so would be an abomination. He is our sworn lord.” Something in the way he said ‘sworn lord’ gave Bart the impression that he didn’t care too much for the man.

Bart turned his gaze to the point of Haran’s sword that was still directed at him. Taking a gamble, he said, “Then allow Riyan and me to deal with him. You needn’t do anything, just refrain from hindering us.”

From just within the passageway, a clash of swords announced the meeting of the two sides.

Haran looked first to Bart, then to Riyan. Finally, his gaze turned to Lord Kueryn. Lowering his sword, he nodded.

“But you can’t…” one of his men began before Haran cut him off.

“This may be the only way,” he said. Turning to Riyan he added, “May the gods give you their favor this day.” Then stepping aside, he opened the way to Lord Kueryn.

Bart had the sword taken from the guard, but Riyan was weaponless. Spying Lord Geop’s sword lying near its owner’s lifeless body, Riyan raced forward and quickly grabbed it.

“My lord!” Lord Hurrin exclaimed when he saw Riyan picking up the sword.

Turning around, Lord Kueryn took in that Riyan and Bart were free. Then his gaze moved to his nephew. “Haran!” he shouted.

“Seems they’ve escaped from me uncle,” he said.

Red faced and full of rage, Lord Kueryn yelled, “Traitor!”

“You call me traitor?” demanded Haran. “It wasn’t I who turned from all that our people hold dear. It wasn’t I who sacrificed the lives of hundreds of our brothers so you could be here. Traitor? You bear that brand more than I.”

The River Man locked eyes with his nephew and in a silent exchange, vowed to see Haran dead for this.

As Lord Hurrin drew his sword and moved to engage Riyan, Bart exchanged Lord Geop’s dagger for his sword. In close fighting, he was much more adept with the dagger. The first clash of metal on metal sounded as Riyan deflected the lord’s attack then followed through with a thrust of his own. Seeing that Riyan was holding off the lord’s attacks, Bart moved around the pair on his way to take out the magic user.

Chyfe struck out at Captain Lyrun only to have his sword deflected to the side. Next to him, Chad and the twins were on the defensive. Facing four expert swordsmen, all they could do was hold their own.

Captain Lyrun thrust lightning quick at Chyfe’s midsection causing him to dance backwards. When Chyfe tried to return the attack, Captain Lyrun easily knocked his sword aside yet again.

“Have you ever actually used that thing before?” Captain Lyrun asked him with a sneer. Breaching Chyfe’s defense, his sword found its mark in Chyfe’s side leaving a shallow cut that began staining his tunic red.

Chyfe didn’t take the bait. Instead, he looked into the captain’s face with loathing. “I’ll see you dead for what you’ve done,” he said. Then he launched into a maneuver that one of the instructors back at the Guild used to use. Hack, slice, thrust, he tried to breach Captain Lyrun’s defense. But each time, his efforts came to naught.

He and the others were steadily being pressed backward deeper into the passage. Every attack they tried was met and countered. Their defense was less than adequate as time and again, their opponents managed to get through. Now, six feet further back from where the battle was first joined, they were concentrating almost solely on defense. Instead of going on the offensive, they did all they could simply to survive.

“No you don’t!” Lord Kueryn exclaimed. Drawing the King’s sword, he intercepted Bart on his way to attack Geffen. Striking down at the thieving upstart, Lord Kueryn stopped the attack on his magic user and forced the thief to fall back.

Bart backpedaled quickly as he brought his knife up to ward off the blow. Momentarily catching the deadly blade in his knife’s crossguard, he thrust Lord Kueryn’s sword away from him. Diving to the side, he hit the ground and rolled back to his feet. Turning to face Lord Kueryn, he was quick to realize that he and the others didn’t have much of a chance to win this fight. At least Haran and his men weren’t fighting them too.

Nearby, Riyan was on the defensive against Lord Hurrin. Where Riyan had less than a year with the sword, Lord Hurrin had been honing his skill for decades. Riyan had long since tried to land a blow. It was all he could do to ward off the lord’s attacks.

All the while keeping Lord Kueryn in front of him, Bart began giving ground. With just a knife, he didn’t have much chance against one wielding a sword. He began to regret exchanging the sword for the dagger. If only he had his darts, but they had been confiscated back on the surface.

“You were never going to allow us to live,” Bart said. Twisting to the side, he barely avoided being impaled.

“No,” admitted Lord Kueryn. “Once the Horde was opened, you would be little more than a bothersome hindrance.”

“How about your word?” asked Bart.

“Ha!” retorted Lord Kueryn. Following after Bart, he attacked again, only to have his blade knocked to the side once more. “Keep my word to one such as you?”

Bart glanced behind him and saw Lord Geop’s body lying close to his heels. Hopping backward over it, he continued facing Lord Kueryn with knife held before him. When Lord Kueryn followed him over the body, the lord thrust with his sword which Bart deftly deflected. Then Lord Kueryn came back with a powerful overhand hack. Raising his knife to ward off the blow, he had it knocked from his hand by the force of the lord’s blow. Stumbling backward, Bart’s left heel struck the bottom step which sent him falling backward.

Lord Kueryn’s eyes fairly danced when he realized the thief before him was unarmed and in a precarious position. “Now,” he said as he moved closer. “Let’s end this.” Raising his sword, he moved to end Bart’s life.

Geffen had pinpointed the location of what was stealing the magic from his spells. It was located in the passageway just on the other side of where Captain Lyrun and the rest were battling.

His gaze couldn’t pierce the shadows of the passageway to discover exactly what it was. But as their men continued pushing the others backward, Geffen entered the passageway behind them. Foot by foot, their enemies continued to fall back.

Whether they were winning or losing mattered little to him. All he cared about was finding the source of what was stealing his magic. Then, as the combatants moved further back, he saw a small box on the floor sitting against the wall. It was opened!

Casting two more minor spells, he knew that whatever was within the box was the source. He had to reach it and close that box! Edging forward as Captain Lyrun and the Tribesmen soldiers pushed their enemies back, he edged closer to it. If closing the box nullified the effects, then this battle would be over quickly. Biding his time, he waited.

Pain. His whole body was throbbing with pain. As consciousness returned to him, he cracked open his eyes. The pain wracking his body made it difficult for him to concentrate. He didn’t immediately remember where he was or how he came to be there. Then, memory began to return.

“Riyan?” he croaked. When he didn’t receive a response, he said, “Chyfe?”

Clang!

Not too far away, his attention was drawn to the sound of swords striking together. “Bart?” he asked as he tried to prop himself up on one elbow. Pain flared anew as he shifted position. Looking down the passageway, he saw Chyfe, Chad, Seth, and Soth facing off against five others.

Movement from the far side of the battling men caught his eye. It was the enemy magic user. He stood just on the other side and seemed to be staring at something on the floor not far from where Chyfe and the rest fought for their lives.

Kevik propped himself up even further despite the pain of his burns and tried to see what was going on. His first thought was why the magic user wasn’t using magic. Then he remembered the box of gray powder. Maybe Chyfe had opened it? He quickly looked around where he lay but couldn’t find it.

Then dread hit him as he turned his attention back to the magic user. Looking to the area of the passageway the magic user was staring toward, he saw the opened box. “No!” he shouted, but in his weakened condition it came out as a hoarse whisper.

Reaching out, he took hold of his staff and tried to rise to his feet. But struggle as he could, his muscles were no longer up to the task. He was too weak and the pain of the burns unbearable. Collapsing back to the floor, he fought the onset of unconsciousness his exertions had brought. Taking deep breaths, he faded in and out but never quite succumbed.

Turning his head toward the combatants, he saw Chyfe and the others being pushed back. His vision started to blur and he blinked several times to clear it. When at last he could see again, the combatants had moved past where the box containing the gray powder sat. To his horror, he saw the enemy magic user kneeling next to it.

Kevik knew there wasn’t much time before the magic user would close the box’s lid and negate the effects of the powder. He raised his arm, and trembling in weakness though it may be, worked his hand within his robe. When his fingers brushed against the firm end of the wand, he grasped it and pulled it forth. The effort almost caused him to black out again but he managed to hold onto consciousness.

Once more, he turned his gaze down the passageway toward where the magic user was reaching for the lid of the box. As the magic user took hold of the lid and began to close it, Kevik brought the wand to bear. Then, as soon as the lid was closed, he used the last ounce of strength left to him to aim the wand directly toward the magic user and activate it. The last thing he saw before consciousness left him, were ice shards shooting down the passageway.

We can’t win this
, Chad thought to himself. The soldier he faced off with had skill far above his own. All he had been able to do since the battle was first joined, was to maintain defense. It reminded him of the times back at the Guild when his instructors would practice with him. Block, block, parry, and dodge to the side were all he could manage without even considering trying to go on the offensive. He had tried that once and all he did was open his defenses. Now his left arm was bleeding from where his opponent had made it through.

Battling beside him, Chyfe and the twins weren’t having any better luck. Their opponents were simply too skilled for them to make any headway. Not to mention the fact they outnumbered them by one. All four sported at least one wound, Soth had the most and was growing weaker by the minute.

Then, Chad saw the magic user come to stand behind the soldiers and he knew it was over. But curiously, the magic user failed to employ his magic. Instead, he was doing something else that Chad currently didn’t have the luxury of time to figure out. When the magic user knelt near the side of the passageway, Chad let his concentration slip minutely as he glanced to see what he was doing, and almost had his opponent’s sword slice him in the face. Dodging backward to avoid the blow, Chad slipped and hit the ground. His eyes widened when he saw his opponent move forward to finish him.

All of a sudden, he felt the temperature drop dramatically. Poised above him for the deathblow, the soldier paused in mid-strike and glanced further down the passageway.

Wham!

Ice shards suddenly came from out of nowhere and ripped into him before continuing on to slam into the magic user. A score of the shards flew over Chad, devastating the soldier and the magic user.

The suddenness of the attack distracted another of the soldiers enough that Seth was able to land a lethal blow to his midsection.

“What the hell was that?” yelled Soth. Moving his sword quickly, he brought it up to block the downward hack of the man he was facing.

“It must have been Kevik!” shouted Chad. Getting back to his feet he moved to aid Soth. Before rejoining the battle, he saw where the magic user laid, multiple shards had ripped through his robe and blood was pooling beneath him. Now that he was out of the way as were two of the five soldiers facing them, maybe they would have a chance.

Wham!

The sound of the ice shard attack distracted Lord Kueryn just enough that his blow failed to strike Bart.

Bart rolled to the side, and then bracing his feet on the bottom step, launched himself up and onto the dais.

Lord Kueryn glanced back and saw Geffen fly out of the passageway amidst a spray of ice shards. When he saw one exit the magic user’s back, he knew Geffen was dead. Rage at the loss flared to an overpowering need to kill those responsible. Turning back to the thief who was the cause of it all, he raised his sword and moved to attack.

Bart was shocked to witness the death of the magic user. As incredible as it may seem, Kevik had triumphed!

“You are dead, thief!” Lord Kueryn exclaimed.

Rolling to the side, Bart remained on the floor of the dais as he continued to roll across its surface away from the enraged lord. Behind him, Lord Kueryn stepped onto the dais and followed.

The thief was trying to get away from him, rolling like a dog. Lord Kueryn quickly caught up with him and was about to strike when he felt something hit his arm. In his rage and need to end the life of this thief, he paid it little heed. Then when another sharp jab brought pain to his sword hand, he looked and saw the tip of a small, two inch dart embedded in his skin. Already, red tendrils were beginning to spider their way across his skin. Ignoring the pain, he raised his sword to kill the thief.

Bart saw the darts protruding from him. He had hoped his roll would trigger the traps guarding this place. Now, he scooted backward off the dais and rolled down the steps, remaining low in case more of the deadly projectiles were launched. All the while he kept his eyes riveted on the lord who was intent on his death.