The Broken Key (02) - Hunter of the Horde (11 page)

Opening the door, Bart passed to the outside and locked the front door, leaving it just as he had found it. He hustled quickly away from the house and cut cross country so as to avoid anyone who may be approaching unseen down the lane. Once the manor house was some distance behind him, he returned to the road and hurried back to the inn.

In the morning he’ll leave and return to Gilbeth. There he’ll be sure to inform the others about what he learned and the fact that they could soon be targeted by a rather unscrupulous person.

“Keep those swords up!” the Drillmaster hollered.

Beads of sweat formed on Riyan’s brow. The fat-ugly was held at guard before him causing his arm and back to protest loudly. He and the other Recruits have been at this for over an hour now.

Tad, a Swordmaster and one of the Drillmaster’s assistants was walking down the row of Recruits towards Riyan. Throughout the drill, he has been walking first up one row then down another.

Lord not me! Riyan thought to himself. Holding the sword at the ready, he kept his eyes straight ahead all the while watching the Swordmaster’s approach from the corner of his eye. Swordmaster Tad walked ever closer, passing one Recruit after another. When his steps brought him close to Riyan, he reached for the hilt of the sword that hung at his side and Riyan’s heart sank.

Tad’s sword left its scabbard lightning fast and struck Riyan’s fat-ugly. At that instant, Riyan broke his immobile stance and launched an attack upon Tad. Despite the complete unwillingness of his muscles to obey, he lashed out with the fat-ugly. Tad of course easily deflected the blow and began backing up to force Riyan to follow.

Riyan pressed forward with a cry on his lips and engaged Tad as he gradually moved backward. Blow after blow Riyan tried unsuccessfully to land on the Swordmaster, and all the while, Tad merely deflected the attacks as he began weaving in and out of the other Recruits standing immobile.

Extra care had to be taken not to strike the other Recruits. For to inadvertently land a blow upon one of them would mean serious repercussions from the Drillmaster. The least of which would be extra drill time at the end of the session.

This was the second time Riyan had been selected to wield the fat-ugly through the rows of Recruits. He was quite proud of the fact that during the first time he weaved through the rows, he didn’t strike anyone. They were told the purpose of this drill was twofold.

First, a fighter had to be able to attack and defend themselves no matter how tired you became. Most of the time, the one who survived when matched off with another fighter of equal skill was the one who could outlast the other. So the Drillmaster had them hold the fat-uglies which drained their strength fast and then they force them to attack.

The second purpose was skill. There are times in battle when you must fight in close quarters and may be in close proximity to allies. Being able to keep your sword from striking an ally is another critical component in winning a battle. After all, you don’t want to do your enemy’s job for them.

“Your friends are dying Riyan!” the Drillmaster hollered from his position at the fore of the assembled Recruits. “If you don’t dispatch your opponent, Chad may not see tomorrow. Or maybe Seth and Soth would lose a leg, or an arm.” Riyan gritted his teeth and worked to overcome the exhaustion his arm was feeling as he tried to get through Tad’s guard. First a strike, then he would be forced to block a blow Tad aimed at him. Already he hurt in half a dozen places where the wooden sword Tad was wielding had already struck him.

“Your friend Chad is now dead I’m afraid,” the Drillmaster said rather sadly. “Too bad your lack of skill kept you from coming to his aid. I’m sure you’ll be able to explain that to his grieving mother the next time you see her.” His arm felt as if it was on fire yet he would not give in. Blow after blow he rained down upon Tad, but not one managed to breach his guard. It grew increasingly harder to lift the fat-ugly with each succeeding blow. Yet every time his attacks began to slow, Tad would step up his swordplay and begin jabbing him mercilessly in the chest.

“Guard!” the Drillmaster exclaimed and Riyan immediately stopped his attack and once again placed his sword into the guard position. He worked to control his breathing and to keep the sword in the proper position. Once he had grown still again, he realized Tad had maneuvered him back to his original position in the line of Recruits.

As Tad moved off to resume his route amongst the Recruits, the Drillmaster came to stand before Riyan. “Your skill has improved,” he said as he locked eyes with him. “I do not think you are totally without merit.” Then he turned and walked back to his position just as the sound of Tad’s sword striking another of the Recruit’s rang out across the courtyard.

Riyan was shocked by the words of the Drillmaster. They were the first he had heard the man utter that weren’t derogatory in one way or another. A grin tried to break forth as he swelled with pride. But he stifled that grin in a heartbeat for he dared not allow it to show while at drills. Not unless he wished for more because of it.

The drill continued for some time after that as each in turn had their session with Tad.

A few of the Recruits hit their fellows and received severe recriminations from the Drillmaster. Chad, to his undying relief, was one of the ones who had not. Riyan was spared a third time with Tad, and in truth he was one of the few who actually had two sessions. All but five of the others only had the one. Chad had two as well.

When that particular drill was over, the Drillmaster had them break formation for a short break where they could rest for a bit and have a drink of water to quench their thirst.

There was little talk as the Recruits practically fell upon the benches in their exhaustion.

But that was after they properly racked their fat-uglies on the stands.

Riyan was more than glad to have a breather. His arm felt like lead and there had been times when he felt on the verge of fainting while he stood in formation with the fat-ugly at guard. He and Chad drank several ladlefuls of water each when the water bucket came their way. Most of their breaks between drills were roughly five to ten minutes long. Once in awhile it might be longer but more often than not it was closer to five.

Once the water bucket had moved on and they were resting on the bench, Riyan saw a figure emerge from one of the many doors lining the courtyard. The man was rather old and it didn’t take him long to recognize Stryntner from the Archives. He nudged Chad and gestured to the old man. “Wonder what he’s doing here?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” replied Chad.

They watched him cross the courtyard and walk directly toward the Drillmaster. Once he reached him he came to a stop, then the two men began speaking to one another. At one point the Drillmaster turned his attention to where the Recruits were gathered.

“Riyan!” he hollered and waved him over.

Riyan immediately stood up and quick-timed it over to the two men. “Yes Drillmaster?”

The Drillmaster nodded to Stryntner. “He has requested for you to be allowed to assist him within the Archives,” he said.

Stryntner nodded, “That’s right young Riyan. I would greatly appreciate it if you could help me transcribe several of the older tomes. You see they are getting rather on in years and they may not last much longer.” He turned to the Drillmaster and added, “The parchment they were written on really wasn’t all that good. Though since then we have made great strides in the creation of parchment, and thus if we were to transcribe them from the old onto the new we would have them for many more years to come.” The Drillmaster took the ramblings of Stryntner in good grace and once he wound down turned to Riyan and said, “If you so desire Recruit, you may help our Keeper in the Archives. After drills.”

“If it wouldn’t be too much of a bother young man,” added the old man.

Riyan barely succeeded in keeping his face passive as he replied, “I would be honored to help you with any transcribing you may require.” Inside however, he was practically jumping up and down in joy at the prospect of being allowed within the Archives. Maybe now he’ll be able to find a lead on the last two coats of arms.

Stryntner nodded with a slight smile. “Very good then,” he said. “Come see me this afternoon.”

“I will sir,” Riyan replied. When he saw the Drillmaster nod for him to return to his fellows, Riyan immediately turned and walked back over to where Chad, Seth, and a few others were gathered together.

“Well?” Seth asked.

Riyan allowed the grin out that had been barely kept in check. “I’m to go and help him with transcribing some old tomes every day after practice,” he explained.

“That’s great news!” Chad blurted out. Then he quieted down when he realized the others were staring at him oddly. “I mean, it’s great that you get to see those musty old books.”

Riyan nodded as he watched Stryntner take his leave of the Drillmaster. Just after he passed through the door he had originally entered though, the Drillmaster resumed their drills.

Once drills were over, Riyan quickly cleaned himself and put on a fresh tunic. He wanted to make a good impression on Stryntner.

“Good luck,” Chad said as he was about to leave.

“Thanks,” replied Riyan. Chad and the twins were heading over to the mess for a bite to eat once he left. His stomach was growling too, but he could put that off for a short time.

Racing up the stairs to the third floor, Riyan quickly reached the door to the Archives.

With excitement infusing every part of his being, he knocked on the door. He was figuring on being most helpful and accommodating in the performance of his duties so that he may be allowed to peruse the tomes on his own time.

A few seconds went by and still the door remained shut. He knocked again. Perhaps Stryntner hadn’t heard him the first time. Again there was no response to his knocking.

His excitement began to fade as nervousness took its place.

He was sure Stryntner had wanted him after his drills. He stood before the door another couple of minutes in indecision, even placing his ear against it in the hopes of learning if there was anyone inside. When that turned up nothing, he grew concerned.

Hoping that it wasn’t a breach of etiquette, he banged his fist as hard as he could on the door. The noise from the three strikes reverberated up and down the corridor. When the door still didn’t open, he thought to himself that either Stryntner was deaf, or not within. Since he hadn’t been given permission to enter, and it didn’t look as if Stryntner was inside, he sat on the floor with his back to the door to wait. He was no sooner sitting comfortably on the floor when his stomach grumbled. He fervently hoped he wouldn’t be waiting too long.

“So you guys learned to read and write in that village of yours?” asked Seth.

They had received their food and sat down at one of the many tables within the room.

Most of them were empty, the other Recruits and members of the Guild had yet to arrive.

One of the benefits of being a member of the Guild was that the Guild’s mess would feed you even if you couldn’t pay, though of course it was customary to give a few coppers if you were able.

“That’s right,” replied Chad. “All the kids in Quillim went to the common room of the Sterling Sheep for a couple hours between the morning and noon meals. We learned our letters and numbers.”

“We didn’t have that,” Soth admitted. “Our father said he never learned to read, that it was a waste of time.”

“Would have liked to though,” said Seth. “I’ve come across a couple instances where being able to read would have been handy.”

Soth grinned and chuckled. “Like the time when that cute girl handed you a note as she left the dance a year ago.”

Seth blushed and nodded. He turned to Chad and said, “I didn’t know what it said.

Did she want me to come after her? Meet her somewhere?”

“He was so embarrassed to ask someone to read it for him that he never found out,” explained Soth.

“You mean you still don’t know what that note said?” Chad asked Seth.

“No,” replied Seth ruefully. “Our father moved us down here shortly afterwards and I never ran into her again.”

“Too bad,” said Chad. “I would teach you but I doubt if there’ll be much time for that.”

“You got that right,” agreed Seth. “Probably too old for it now anyway.” Just then Chad caught movement out of the corner of his eye and turned his head. He was surprised to see Stryntner entering the mess in the company of two men they’ve seen from time to time eating in here.

Seth turned to find out what had caught his eye and asked, “Isn’t Riyan supposed to be transcribing with him right now?”

“I thought so,” replied Chad.

They watched the three men get their food and take a seat at one of the tables on the far side of the hall.

“Maybe he got Riyan transcribing already?” questioned Soth.

“Probably,” replied Chad.

It would crawl, stop for a few seconds, then move again. Most of the time it would alter its direction, rarely continuing in a straight line, almost as if it didn’t know where it wanted to go.

Its movements never carried it out of an area roughly a foot across. What the bug could be doing, why it was doing what it was, was something Riyan’s been puzzling over for a half hour now as he watched its movements on the wall opposite him.

The corridor upon which the Archives lay had been quiet. Not one person had made an appearance and he was beginning to think that Stryntner wasn’t going to show. The now incessant grumbling of his stomach continued urging him in giving up the wait and head down for some food. In fact he’s already made up his mind that if Stryntner doesn’t show soon, he’ll leave.

His mind wandered back to the time in the Ruins of Algoth where he had picked the lock in order to free Bart and Chad when they were trapped. More than once he’s thought about trying to pick the lock to the Archives in order to gain entry. After all, the old guy could be passed out and in desperate need of a healer or something.