Shepherd's Quest: The Broken Key #1 (16 page)

Chad pointed to the figure on the steps and said, “There’s something in his hand.” Bart turned his attention to the figure’s outstretched hand and saw the glint of something golden. “Stay here,” he told the other two as he worked his way towards the steps. This room gave off a feeling of unease that made him be extra careful. There was something about the figure sprawled on the steps that screamed for him to proceed with caution.

He figured what was lying before him had been a man at one time, though it’s hard to tell as all that’s left were bones and the remnants of his clothes he was wearing when he died. On the steps next to the man sat a pack that was all but worn away by time. As he came to a stop by the man’s feet, a foot from the edge of the first step, he looked closely at what was glittering in the man’s hand.

It looked like a piece of what had once been a circular torc of some kind. The bones of the man’s hand shielded most of it from view, but he figured the width of the piece had to be at least three to four inches.

Why was the man in the position that he was? That was the question that has been nagging at him ever since he saw him. The man had to have arrived here after the place was constructed, otherwise the builders would have removed his body. In Bart’s mind that made the figure before him a thief, or some sort of robber.

He also had to have worked alone, for if he had partners, Bart doubted that they would have left the golden item in his hand when they left. So the question remained, what was he doing here?

Then Bart turned his attention to the wall above the dais and the sigils inscribed upon it. The way the man’s hand was outstretched led him to believe the wall was in some way the man’s destination. Also, the fact that steps led up to it had to mean something as well.

“What do you think?” asked Riyan.

Bart turned back to them and said, “I think he was a thief here to loot the place.”

“But if he was,” supposed Chad, “why weren’t the biers in the above levels touched.”

“Good question,” Bart replied. Then more to himself than to the others he said quietly, “Yes, why wouldn’t he have searched the biers as we did?” He must have been after something, something specific and didn’t want to be bothered with what little the biers would have given him.

“Could that wall there hold some sort of secret door,” suggested Riyan. “Maybe on the other side is the king’s treasure room.”

“Possibly,” agreed Bart. That would make sense. He turned his gaze back to the wall and examined the sigils and writing. One pattern seemed to stand out more than the others. At the pattern’s center was a circle, one of many such designs inscribed in the stone. But something about this one caught his eye.

It was sunken into the wall more than the others!

He looked to the golden item in the man’s hand and then back to the circle. Yes! It would fit perfectly within the circular depression of that sigil. Turning his head towards where the other two stood at the entrance, he said, “I believe you’re right.” Pointing to the golden item in the man’s hand, he said, “I think that fits nicely within that sigil there.” He then moved his hand and pointed toward the sigil whose circle was indented.

“Do you think it would open up if we placed it in there?” asked Riyan. The tone of his voice held excitement that he almost was unable to restrain.

“Maybe,” he said. “But it looks like it’s only about a quarter of the circle that would fit in there.”

“Check his pack,” suggested Chad. “The other pieces could be in there.” Bart nodded and then turned back to the steps. The pack in question was resting on the second step. Bart could reach it if he stood close to the bottom step and stretched his arm forward. He came forward until the toe of his foot was less than an inch from the bottom step and then reached for the pack. He took hold of the pack by one of the straps and very carefully picked it up. He halfway expected something to happen, and when it didn’t he was most relieved.

Turning around, he brought the pack over to the others. He then set it on the ground and very carefully started to open it. The cloth of the pack disintegrated under his fingers and revealed what once had been papers within. But time had destroyed the papers beyond all recognition, the barest touch causing them to crumble into dust.

“There aren’t any other pieces of the circle here,” he said after a moment’s search.

“But there has to be!” exclaimed Riyan. “Why would he be here if he didn’t have the entire key to the secret door?”

“Could be he didn’t know that he only had a part of it,” suggested Bart. “Greed can blind you that way. Or he could have thought that just a single piece would have opened it.”

“Do you think it could?” Chad asked. “I mean, if he thought this would have opened it, he may have known more about it than we do.”

“Worth a shot.” Taking the staff that he’s been using to trigger traps with, he returned to the steps and stopped several feet away. He placed the end of the staff on the first step and pressed down on it. When nothing happened, he moved the end of the staff to the second step and repeated the process. Again, nothing happened. Then he did it to the dais with the same results.

Turning around, he handed the staff back to Riyan and then began moving to the steps. Taking them one at a time carefully, he climbed to the dais and removed the golden piece of the circle from the dead man’s hand.

It was heavy. He paused a moment as he closely inspected the item. On one side were sigils similar in nature to those on the wall. And on the other was what looked for all the world as part of a map. There were mountains and what looked like two lakes. A river flowed from one lake to the other, and a set of miniscule notations were inscribed at a point alongside the smaller lake further from the mountains. Once he was done examining it, he stepped towards the wall.

He brought the piece of the circle near the sigil and quickly realized that the markings on the one side matched perfectly with those surrounding the circular indentation in the wall. He maneuvered the piece of the sigil so that the markings on it lined up perfectly with those on the wall, then set it into the depression. He held his breath, not sure exactly what to expect. But nothing happened.

For a full minute he held it there and nothing changed. The wall remained the same.

He had halfway expected the sigils to flare to life and was somewhat relieved when they failed to. Finally, he pulled the quarter circle away from the wall and turned towards the others. “I don’t think it’s going to work,” he said.

“Then what are we to do?” asked Chad.

Beginning to leave the dais, he moved to the steps and replied, “I don’t know.” He no sooner stepped onto the top step than was struck in the back by something. He cried out from the unexpected attack and the other two rushed forward as he stumbled down the steps.

“My back!” he cried out as the others reached him.

Riyan looked at his back and saw that a two inch dart had pierced his skin several inches to the right of his spine. He grabbed it and pulled it out which elicited another cry from Bart. Then he and Chad helped him to the floor.

When he showed Bart the dart, he said, “Check my back. See if there are any red lines radiating from the wound, or if there is any swelling.” Chad helped Riyan to pull up his tunic to bare his back. When they had it bared, they saw the wound, then glanced at each other worriedly.

“Anything?” he asked.

They saw the hole where the dart had punctured Bart’s skin. It was still welling drops of blood but that wasn’t the cause of their concern. What was, were the dark red, spidery tendrils that were beginning to spread outward from the wound.

“I’ve been poisoned!” he exclaimed when they described what was happening to the skin around the wound.

“What do we do?” Chad cried out anxiously.

“Get me out of here,” he said. Then he pointed to the skeleton on the steps. “I think that was what killed him. He and I both triggered the same trap.” Then as he tried to get to his feet, his knees buckled under him. “I don’t know how much longer I have.” Perspiration had already begun to form on his forehead and when Riyan checked to see if he had a fever, he felt warm. “Take his other arm,” he said to Chad. “We’re going home.”

“But it took us over a day to get here!” exclaimed Chad as he placed one of Bart’s arms around his neck.

“Don’t you think I know that?” hollered Riyan back at him. He and Chad grabbed their packs as they made ready to return to the surface, Riyan also took his staff.

A sudden clinking sound drew his attention to the floor where the golden item had all of a sudden fallen from Bart’s hand. Riyan looked to his friend and saw that he had passed out. Picking up the piece of the golden key, he stuffed it into his pack. With Chad holding one of the lanterns and Riyan his staff, they began heading out. As they hurried down the passage and reached the turn to the right, Riyan cast one last glance back to the room. The glow from the second lantern which they left burning just within the room almost seemed to be beckoning to him. Turning back to the matter at hand, he passed around the corner and the light disappeared from sight.

It took them some doing to get Bart up to the surface. When they reached the uppermost level of The Crypt and were moving past the room where they had stashed the copper coins, Riyan said, “We’ll come back for them.”

“Hope so,” replied Chad.

At the hole leading to the surface, they worked to get Bart up the slope. They found it exceedingly difficult to haul a limp body up a steep incline, but they finally managed it.

Once he was lying on the grass just outside the hole, Chad sat down.

“There’s no time to rest!” admonished Riyan.

“My arms are like rubber,” he said. In fact, both of them were fatigued by the effort of practically carrying Bart up through the four levels.

Riyan felt the same way. His arms ached and his legs could use a rest, but Bart might die if they dilly dallied. He pulled up Bart’s tunic to inspect his back and gasped. The dark red, spidery tendrils had spread. Now they covered a good portion of his back. The area around the puncture wound had turned red and angry looking as well.

He turned to Chad who had also seen the progression of the poison. “We don’t have much time,” he said with emotion choking him.

Chad nodded. Then he suggested, “Let’s make a stretcher. It would make carrying him easier.”

“Alright,” agreed Riyan. “I’ll find another long stick and we’ll use it and my staff for the poles. You get our blankets out and discard everything we don’t need back down the hole.”

“You got it,” replied Chad.

Riyan got up from the ground and rushed over to the stream where a copse of trees stood. There he hunted for a long branch that would work. He finally took out his sword and used it to cut one off of a tree. On the way back to where he left Chad and Bart, he trimmed the branches until all he was left with was a long pole.

Chad had their three blankets laid out and ready, Riyan’s staff was already in position. Next to the blankets their packs sat ready for them. “I just left the food, coins and gems,” he said. “Everything else is down the hole.

“Good.” Riyan came and laid the branch on the blankets. Then he and Chad began folding the blankets over the staff and branch to create a stretcher. Once they had it finished, they picked up Bart and placed him upon the stretcher. Each took their pack and slung it across their back, Bart’s they placed between his feet on the stretcher.

Then Riyan moved to the end of the poles at Bart’s feet while Chad took the ones by his head. They lifted him up and with Riyan leading the way, began the trek back.

All afternoon long they carried Bart as quickly as they could toward Quillim. Despite the threat spreading through Bart’s system, they were forced to stop twice to rest. If they hadn’t, they risked weakening themselves to the point where they might have dropped the stretcher.

When it finally began to grow dark, they continued on. Once night settled in, they used the moon and stars above to light their way. And still they continued.

“How’s he doing?” asked Riyan for the dozenth time.

“Bad,” replied Chad. In the gloom of night, the only indication that he was even alive was the groans he gave out with every now and then. “I’m not sure but I think the fever’s worsened.”

“It shouldn’t be too long before we reach my home,” he replied.

“Then what are we to do?” asked Chad.

“I’ll leave you there with him and I’ll head over to Glia’s,” he explained. Old Glia was an odd sort of woman. She lived alone out in the hills, most people thought she was a witch or something and had very little to do with her. The people of Quillim tolerated her presence for the simple fact that she’s the only one in the area who makes potions. Many people owed their lives to the potions she brewed. The one she’s most famous for was the one that will purge poison out of your system, which was useful seeing as how the mountain spiders made an appearance every once in awhile. They were very aggressive and poisonous.

Riyan had always liked her, and whenever he moved his flock to graze in the area near her hut, would visit with her. She’s the oldest living person in the Quillim area, none knew just how old she was. She has been a fixture in these parts for as long as anyone could remember.

They continued carrying Bart for another hour before Riyan began to recognize the hills they were passing through. “We’re almost there,” he announced to Chad.

“Thank goodness,” gasped Chad. It’s all he’s been able to do to simply continue to hold the ends of the stretcher. He was sure that if he were to but let go, he’d never be able to pick it back up again. His arms have all but grown numb and his back ached horribly.

Riyan altered their course slightly to maneuver through the hills in a more direct approach to his home. When at last they topped a hill and saw his home in the distance, they breathed a sigh of relief. The light coming through the window seemed to renew their strength as they headed down the hill.