The Broken Key (02) - Hunter of the Horde (27 page)

Bart exited through the door and was soon mounted. Though he had told Kevik he wouldn’t be back until later that evening, he headed back anyway. The last thing he wanted to do was to walk around town with fifty three golds on him.

Back at the tower, Kevik was excited to learn that Bart had sold the horses for so much. He took the sack of gold from Bart and stashed it in the chest up on the third floor where the magical items were being kept. Once Kevik had closed the tower door and was on his way up, Bart stabled his horse. He planned to walk into town.

Gilbeth, while not nearly the size and scope of Wardean, was still a sizable town in its own right. It held houses of many of the Guilds, had a temple area where at least six different religions were represented, and the crime element was semi-organized.

As Bart walked along the streets of Gilbeth, he watched what he would call amateurs as they worked their marks. So far he’d seen at least three separate groups operating this morning. All of them needed some serious instruction in the finer art of what they were ineptly attempting. Frankly, Bart was surprised they still had both their hands.

If he had planned to linger in Gilbeth for any length of time, he felt he could organize them into something similar to what his father had in Wardean. He could be the Master here in Gilbeth. The idea definitely appealed to him, unfortunately he didn’t have the time.

Somewhere in Gilbeth he was certain Durik was hold up. In the conversation Bart had overheard between Durik and his man, Durik’s man had asked, “What should I do if I find them?” And Durik’s reply was, “Send word and wait for me to arrive.” If the attack on Kevik’s place was the work of Durik and his men, then it would stand to reason that Durik would be in town. But where?

Bart really didn’t think Durik would be in the poorer sections of town, nor judging by the modestness of his estate would he be in the wealthy sector either. Unfortunately, that only narrowed Gilbeth down by a tenth and still left quite a large area for him to cover.

He spent the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon going up one street and down another. Every once in awhile he would come across one of Gilbeth’s street kids who for a copper would answer a few questions. None of them had seen Durik or any of his men that Bart had seen. Before he left each of the kids, he told them they would get a silver if they found the men he was looking for and led him to them. A silver was a veritable fortune for one who lived on the streets. If those men were in town, he was sure one of the kids he talked to would let him know.

It was getting on into evening when he was coming out of another in a long line of taverns he’d inspected that day. He was about to turn down the street when he recognized one of the kids he had spoken to earlier that day approaching at a run. The kid was about ten years old, dirty, and wearing clothes that looked like he’d outgrown them a year ago.

The kid’s eyes lit up when he saw him and slightly altered course to intercept.

“I found them!” the kid exclaimed when he came to a stop.

“All of them?”

The kid nodded.

“Where?” Bart asked.

The kid gave him a sidelong glance and said, “First the silver.” Bart shook his head. “Show me where they are and I’ll give it to you then,” he stated.

If he tossed the kid the coin, both the kid and the coin would most likely disappear in a flash. Returning the kid’s stare with one of his own, he failed to give in. Finally, the kid must have realized he wasn’t going to get the coin right then because he said, “Very well.

This way.”

Moving off the way he came, the kid led Bart through the streets. “How far is it?” he asked.

“Not far,” replied the kid.

They left the poorer section and headed directly toward the more affluent area of Gilbeth. When they entered one of the smaller market areas that were scattered throughout the city, the boy slowed down. Midway through the market, he came to a stop and pointed to one of the side alleys which led from the market. “They’re down there.” Bart looked towards the alley. Dark, narrow, it was the perfect place for a trap.

“You’ll find them through the door at the end of the alley,” the boy said.

“What’s down there?” questioned Bart.

The kid shrugged. “Just the usual.” Then he took hold of Bart’s sleeve and asked,

“Can I have the coin now?”

Bart nodded and removed a silver from his coin purse. “Here, and thanks.” He passed the coin unobtrusively to the boy.

Taking the coin, the kid gave it a cursory inspection then disappeared into the crowd.

Bart glanced to where the kid had entered the crowd but he was gone. Turning his attention back to the alley, he moved towards the alley’s mouth. A seller of late season fruit was attempting to entice those in the market, but so far had little luck. When Bart came close and saw the rather wrinkled and extremely ripe fruit the man was trying to sell, he could understand why the man had no customers. In Bart’s opinion, the lot should just be dumped atop the nearest refuse pile.

The man did get a bit excited when Bart paused by his stand. But his attempts were met with silence as Bart’s attention rested solely on the alley and the darkness that lay beyond. Darkness and shadows were all that he could see. With the approach of dusk not too far away, the alley held an ominous feel.

Bart took in the walls of the alley; they rose sheer for three stories on either side.

Further down in the gloom, he could make out a doorway on the right. There looked like a person sitting on the ground alongside the doorway, still and quiet.

Everything about this situation felt wrong somehow. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but something was just not right. The people of the market were going about their business in the usual manner, sellers hawking their wares and customers telling them how poor their merchandise was in order to get a better price. The cacophony faded to a background buzz as Bart tuned it out and continued concentrating on the alley.

He glanced to the seller of fruit and received an odd sort of look. That’s when he realized he must have been standing there motionless for a minute or two. Not a good idea when you didn’t wish to be noticed.

As there was no apparent danger, he stepped into the alley. He took it slow as he moved from the noise of the market to the relative quiet of the dark alley. The figure seated by the doorway on the right turned its head in his direction after he had moved several feet into the alley. Remaining silent, the figure watched his approach.

When Bart was close enough to make out that it was an old man, he nodded in greeting. The old man didn’t return his nod, simply continued to watch as he approached.

Bart reached the old man and continued on past, still the old man remained silent.

Five feet past the old man, Bart begun to make out the door the kid had spoken of that sat at the end of the alley. It was closed. Other than himself and the old man, the alley was empty. He moved closer to the door and when he was close enough to grab the handle, he stopped. Glancing back behind him, he saw that he and the old man were still the only ones in the alley.

Turning back to the door, he took hold of the handle and very slowly opened the door.

The sun was about down when he felt that he was ready to try his Far Seeing Spell.

The mixture of water, oils, and spell components filled a bowl on the table in his workroom. If he performed the spell properly, the surface of the mixture would create a picture depicting what he wanted to see. According to the book he took the spell from, not any reflective surface would do. It had to be the exact mixture that filled the bowl before him now. There was something about the properties of the spell components within the mixture that enabled the surface of the water to create the desired image.

All was in readiness. He moved away from the bowl and glanced out the window to find something in the distance which he could try to see with his spell. Far off along the road leading into Gilbeth, he saw a rider heading south, away from town. He nodded to himself, as good as any for an initial try. Returning to stand before the bowl, he gazed at the mixture’s surface and attempted to picture the rider in his mind. When he had the vision of the rider clearly in his mind’s eye, he began casting the spell.

This was the tricky part. If he lost the image, or concentrated so hard on keeping the image that he misspoke one of the words, the spell would fail. Fortunately Allar had worked with him on just such practices during the times before the ill fated trip across the mountains. Kevik was able to sufficiently maintain the image in his mind’s eye and complete the spell. As the last word passed his lips, the surface of the mixture began to shimmer. Color and light danced across the top before settling into the image of the rider.

Kevik could clearly see the rider moving along the road. The book spoke of ways in which to cause the image to move closer or back away, but he dared not try those yet. He needed more practice in just creating the spell, and general experience before he attempted the finer techniques of the spell. Passing his hand over the bowl, he spoke the words to cancel the spell. When the image disappeared he grinned in satisfaction. Yet another spell he had mastered.

A glint of gold caught his eye from where the sister ring of the one Bart wore sat on the nearby table. It brought Bart to mind and he wondered if the spell would create an image of someone he didn’t have actual visual contact with. Could he see what Bart was doing? Grinning mischievously, he readied himself to make the attempt.

First he cleared his mind of all thoughts, then stilled all emotions. When he felt he was ready, he pictured Bart in his mind’s eye. For some reason the vision of Bart he dredged up from memory happened to be the one when he was washing himself in the pool located within the Ruins of Algoth. The time following when Bart had opened the door and had been deluged with gallons of lamp oil.

Trying not to let his amusement of the image break his concentration, he began speaking the words of the spell. As before, when the last word had been uttered, color and light danced above the mixture.

He could tell there was an image, but it was dark. A shadow moved across the darkened surface of the mixture which had to be Bart. He must be somewhere where there was little or no light. Kevik maintained the image as he watched the shadow continue its progress. Then all of a sudden the image flared with light. The unexpectedness of the illumination surprised him to such an extent that it almost caused him to lose the spell.

Kevik gasped when he saw that the light illuminated several men surrounding Bart, one of whom held the point of a sword to his throat. Bart stood immobile while one of the other men took his pack from him. Then another man came up from behind and struck him on the back of the head. Bart fell to the floor unconscious.

Unable to look away at the events unfolding, Kevik watched as Bart was picked up and slung over the shoulder of one of the men. They took him through what looked to be a hallway and then through a door to the outside. Another man was waiting outside for the men with several horses. This man was older than the others and had a hard look to him.

While the man who carried Bart from the building tied him across the back of one of the horses, the other men mounted. Once the man had Bart’s hands and feet secured and tied together by a rope passing beneath the stomach of the horse, he mounted the remaining horse.

Kevik watched them as the men worked their way through town. All the while, the image remained centered on the unconscious Bart. Before the spell ran its course, the horse carrying Bart turned so the side against which his head and arms lay was shown in the image. A flash of gold reflected off of the ring Bart still wore on his hand, the twin of the one which sat on the table next to him.

Kevik was in a state of fear for Bart. He was fairly sure who the men were that had captured him, or at least who they worked for. And if he was right, then they were heading towards Durik’s estate. A shiver ran through him as he remembered Bart’s recollection of the room beneath Durik’s estate, the one with the table, manacles, and inquisitor tools.

Letting the spell go, he took only a second to decide on a course of action. There was no way he would be able to free Bart by himself, he was going to need help. Grabbing the ring from off the table, he slipped it on his finger and hurried downstairs.

Once out of the tower, he went to the stables and quickly saddled three horses. He tied two in tandem behind the third then mounted. Riding quickly, he led the horses towards Gilbeth. Riyan and Chad were Bart’s only hope. Between the three of them, he was sure they could affect his escape. The only problem was that it wasn’t Riyan and Chad’s ten-day. How were they to get out of the Guild?

Riding hard, he headed into town.

Arriving at the Warriors Guild, Kevik tied the lead horse to the post outside and hurried through the front door. The foyer was abuzz with conversation as the evening crowd had already gathered. Spying one of the runners, he made his way through the foyer toward him. Along the way, he heard snippets of several different conversations.

All of which were on the happenings to the south concerning the Moran Tribes and the possibility of an escalation in the conflict.

When the runner noticed Kevik crossing the room toward him, he moved to intercept.

“Can I help you?” he asked when he had come close enough for Kevik to hear him over the noise.

The worry he felt over the situation Bart was in caused his voice to be a bit strained as he replied. “Yes. I would like to talk with Chad Kelon and Riyan Borenson.” The runner nodded understanding. “If you would wait a moment sir,” he said, “I’ll let them know you’re here.”

“Just hurry,” Kevik said as the runner turned and moved toward the entrance of one of the hallways leading from the foyer.

While the runner was delivering his message, Kevik found himself absentmindedly playing with the ring on his finger. Bart. Speaking internally, he said Bart’s name as he concentrated on him. Bart, are you alright? No reply. Either he’s still unconscious or the ring has been removed from his finger. Just before Chad arrived with the runner, he wondered what would happen if he tried to contact Bart through the ring and someone else was wearing it. Probably nothing as he wouldn’t be concentrating on the person who was wearing it.