The Broken Key (02) - Hunter of the Horde (16 page)

Bart was surprised that he had known he was there. “How did you know I was here?” he asked.

Phyndyr flashed a quick grin at him. “One should never give away their secrets,” he said. Then he glanced down at the man lying unconscious between them. “What’s going on?”

After replacing the knife with whose handle he had struck the man back in its scabbard, he replied, “If I could use one of your back rooms for a few minutes I’ll tell you.”

Phyndyr nodded. “Be quick before someone comes in.” Bart picked up the man and slung him over his shoulder as he followed Phyndyr to the door leading into the back. Once through the door, Bart found himself in a small square room with a door on each side. From past visits he knew that the door opposite the one he had just passed through led to where Phyndyr’s apprentices and journeyman worked on creating scrolls. Also beyond that door was a room with a rather formidable door which sealed a room that held Phyndyr’s more valuable merchandise.

Phyndyr was quick to shut the door behind him and then moved to the door on their right. “Bring him in here,” he said as he removed a ring of keys and unlocked the door.

The opening of the door revealed a storeroom where bottles of ink, sheaves of paper, and other paraphernalia which Phyndyr needed to construct scrolls were stored.

He indicated the floor in the middle of the room. “Just lay him there,” he said.

Bart plopped him on the floor and then checked the man’s eyes.

“He’s not dead is he?” Phyndyr asked with the closing of the storeroom’s door.

“No, but he may be out for awhile,” he replied. He glanced up and added, “I hit him a bit hard.”

“I need to tell Josef to watch the front room,” he said. “I’ll be right back.” Josef was Phyndyr’s journeyman scriber who was quite skilled in the scriber’s art and could practically make any scroll that Phyndyr could.

“Thanks,” Bart said.

Phyndyr paused at the door and glanced back at him. He nodded then moved though and shut him in there. Bart was plunged into darkness when the door closed. He sat on the floor next to the unconscious man until Phyndyr returned.

He hadn’t long to wait before the door opened and Phyndyr entered the storeroom bearing a lit candle. “Now,” he said as the door closed behind him, “would you mind telling me why this man now lies unconscious in my storeroom?”

“I suppose you’ve heard by now that two friends of mine and I came across some coins of the King?” he asked.

Phyndyr nodded. “I’ve heard something about that, yes,” he replied. “Supposedly you found a large quantity.”

“Something like that,” Bart admitted. He nodded to the man on the floor and said,

“This man’s employer is one of those crazy Hunters for the Horde and thinks we know where it lies.”

Phyndyr’s eyes widened at that. “Do you?” he asked. When Bart hesitated he added,

“You and I go way back, I’ve never broken a confidence before and I’m not about to now.”

Bart looked up at his lifelong friend and said, “Maybe. We’re not entirely sure.” He looked at Bart in shock as he plopped himself on one of the crates sitting on the floor. “The King’s Horde,” he breathed.

“Now we’re not even sure about it yet,” Bart told him.

“But it’s possible?” he asked.

Under the expectant eyes of his friend, Bart nodded.

“Unbelievable!” he exclaimed.

“Please don’t tell anyone about this,” urged Bart.

“Don’t worry young Bart,” Phyndyr said. “Your secret’s safe with me.” The man on the floor began to stir and gave out with a groan.

“I think he’s coming out of it,” Phyndyr observed.

“Good,” said Bart as he turned his attention back to the man. He glanced back to Phyndyr and said, “It might be better if you were to leave.”

“If it’s all the same, I would just as soon stay,” he replied.

Shrugging, Bart said, “As you will.” He once again turned his attention to the man and saw the man’s eyes on him. “You’re awake, good.” The man glanced from Bart, to Phyndyr, then did a quick scan of the room before returning to Bart. “What happened?” he asked. He reached up to the back of his head and found a lump there.

Bart ignored the question as he said, “I hear you’ve been looking for me.” The man failed to respond to the question, instead he sat up and propped his back against another of the crates that sat nearby. Once he was comfortable, the man looked back at him. “You’re Bartholomew Agreani I take it?” Bart nodded. “Now that you’ve found me, what do you intend to do?” he asked.

“Nothing,” he replied.

Bart laughed. “Nothing?” he asked. “Why did you wish to find me anyway? And don’t give me that tale about how I stole from your employer. We both know that was just a ruse to find me.”

“True,” he said. “But so far it’s been a pretty successful one.” He took another look around the storeroom and saw the scriber materials lying on the shelves and was glad he had decided against testing the validity of Phyndyr’s claim about being one. “My employer wishes to meet with you,” he finally came out and said.

“I don’t think so,” replied Bart. “Durik doesn’t seem the sort who would prove beneficial for me to do business with.”

Eyes widening in surprise that he would know for whom he worked, the man asked,

“How do you know Durik?”

Bart gave him a grin, “I know many things. I know he’s hunting for me and two associates of mine. I know he wishes to interrogate us as to the location of a certain place.” He paused for a moment as he let the information sink in. “Please feel free to speak up if I’m in error.” The man just sat there quietly.

“Are you going to kill me?” the man asked.

“Hardly,” replied Bart. From where he sat he heard Phyndyr sigh. Turning to his friend he said, “I wouldn’t dirty your shop with another man’s blood.” Then he returned his attention to the man.

“No, but I would like you to deliver a message to your employer,” he said.

“What?”

Bart knelt down and looked the man straight in the eyes. “We don’t know where it is,” he said. “His attempts to track us down are irritating and I want them to stop.” He saw the man’s eyes narrow and his face draw into a scowl as he listened. “I would hate to think of the events that would be set in motion should I discover you, Durik, or any others were coming after us.” He paused a moment to let that sink in. “Do I make myself clear?”

The man nodded.

“Now, I think it’s time for you to leave,” he said. Standing up, he offered the man a helping hand but had it knocked aside for his effort.

The man stood up and gave Bart a rather unpleasant look.

“If you’ll follow me,” Phyndyr said. “I’ll show you out.” Without a word, the man followed Phyndyr from the storeroom. He didn’t even give Bart a parting look of warning, just left.

Bart waited in the storeroom until Phyndyr returned from seeing the man out. “Sorry about all that,” he told his friend.

Phyndyr waved it away as unimportant. “You best watch your back from now on,” he said. “I don’t think he or his employer will let this go.”

“Neither do I,” agreed Bart. He took a seat on a crate and then looked to his friend.

“So, have you ever heard of this Durik or anyone called The River Man?”
Chapter Nine

_______________________

Thunk!

The sound of an axe striking wood came to him through the window, blown in on a strong breeze. A storm had moved in the day before dropping the temperature, and now the wind was whipping pretty good. Despite the fire burning in the fireplace, the room was quite cold. Kevik pulled his robe closer as he tried to retain what warmth he could.

From the stairwell, he heard one of them dumping a load of cut wood on the pile down on the ground floor. Kevik had taken Bart’s advice about asking Chad and Riyan to cut wood for him. To his surprise, they had been more than happy to do it.

They had decided that the ground floor would be an ideal place to store the cut wood to keep it dry. Especially seeing as how Kevik never spent time in the manor house, he wouldn’t have far to haul it when needed.

Riyan and Chad had arrived a couple hours ago. They usually stopped by at least once during their ten-day, and today had been no exception. A pot bubbled contentedly over the fire, hot water for tea to warm them when they were done.

They had found axes in a shed behind the manor house and had picked out a dead tree close by the tower as a likely candidate for fuel. Once they had it cut down, one worked to trim the branches off while the other began cutting the trunk into workable sections.

Kevik turned back to the book laid out before him. He had deduced the meaning and pronunciation of one of the symbols which had thus far eluded him, the rest were still a mystery however. Not for the first time he wished Bart would return. Kevik didn’t expect him for another day or so.

A shiver ran through him as the wind whipped through the closed window shutter. If it grew much colder, he might be forced to move into the manor house. He didn’t relish the idea, he sort of liked the tower and the commanding view he had from its windows.

“Is the tea ready?” Riyan shouted up the stairwell.

Kevik got up and moved to the stairwell. “I’ll bring it down shortly,” he replied.

“Hurry up,” Riyan said. “We’re freezing down here.”

“Be right there,” he assured him. Moving from the stairwell, he went over and removed the small pot from the fire and brought it over to a table where another pot had been prepared with tea leaves. Once he had the teapot full of hot water, he set the hot water pot on the table. He stirred the mixture of tea leaves and water until it grew a uniform brown, then poured the tea into three large mugs.

He carried the steaming mugs down to the ground floor where he found a large pile of wood lying haphazardly in the middle of the floor. Just then, Chad walked in with a load of sectioned branches and tossed them on the pile.

Chad saw Kevik standing there with the mugs and grinned. “About time,” he said.

Both he and Riyan were wearing heavy coats, boots and leggings which the Guild had supplied them. Kevik was surprised to see sweat beading Chad’s forehead when he came to take the tea.

A second later Riyan entered with more wood and tossed his load onto the pile as well. He turned back to the door and shut it which greatly helped to keep the chill out before coming to retrieve his mug. “Thanks,” he said. Taking a sip, he grimaced. “What is this?” He glanced to Chad and could see that he didn’t care for it either.

“Tea,” said Kevik. “At least I think it is.” He tried a sip from his mug and realized just how vile it was. When they had begun working and mentioned how cold they were, he searched the tower but couldn’t find anything with which to make something hot for them. Then he went over to the manor house and had found a small container in the kitchen area which contained leaves that looked quite a bit like tea.

He glanced to Riyan and asked, “Would you rather have just water?” He didn’t have anything like ale here, magic users tended to avoid the ingestion of anything that may hamper their magical abilities. Once in a while at a tavern to be social they may partake, but not when it was likely they would be working with magic shortly afterwards.

Riyan took another sip and shook his head. “I’ll survive.”

“At least it’s hot,” added Chad just before he, too took another sip.

“You might wish to go into town and buy some tea leaves at the market,” suggested Riyan. “I don’t know what this is but I don’t want it again.” They took a moment’s respite from their work as they drank Kevik’s foul concoction.

“This isn’t some magical experiment or anything is it?” Chad asked, holding up his mug.

Riyan’s eyes widened at the thought they may be drinking magical ingredients or some such thing.

Kevik shook his head. “No, I found the leaves with which I made the tea in a cupboard in the manor’s kitchen,” he assured them. “I’m sure there are no malignant properties associated with them.”

“I hope not,” stated Riyan.

“If I wake up with a tail tomorrow, I’ll know who to talk to,” stated Chad.

Kevik grinned and took another sip of the vile concoction. If he wasn’t so cold, he would have dumped it on the floor. Turning his attention to Riyan, he said, “I hope you are planning on piling the wood neatly before you’re done?”

“Listen to him would you?” asked Chad. “We’re not exactly hired hands here.” Riyan grinned. He could tell when Chad was joking at someone’s expense. When he saw concern draw across Kevik’s features he pointed to the far wall and said, “It’s okay, Kevik. He was just joking. We’ll have it stacked over there neatly before we’re done.” Kevik nodded. “That would be great.” He glanced to Chad who flashed him a mischievous grin which set him at ease.

“So,” began Chad, “have you had much time to work on the magic items?” Riyan’s attention perked up at that. They both had been most anxious to find out what wondrous properties they may hold.

A slightly embarrassed expression came over him as he shook his head. “I’m afraid not,” he admitted. “What with trying to complete my staff, I simply haven’t had the time.”

“Well, I got to thinking,” Chad began. “Now would be a good time to see what they do, seeing as how you are waiting for Bart’s return and all…”

“I still don’t know enough about what I’m doing…” he argued.

“What do you mean?” asked Riyan. “When we were in the Ruins of Algoth you were quick enough to identify anything we came across. Why should now be any different?” He looked from one to the other and could see the expectation in their eyes. There were any number of reasons why an inexperienced magic user shouldn’t mess around with magical items. Back in the Ruins he identified the items that he did more from the fact that he wanted to fit in with the group and be helpful than anything else. “Very well,” he said, giving in. “But like I told you before, there’s not much I’ll be able to ascertain about them.”

“Fair enough!” exclaimed Chad. He drained his mug and set it on one of the crates on the floor. Then he looked to Kevik expectantly.

“Now?” he asked.

“Of course,” replied Chad.