The Troven (Kingdom of Denall Book 1) (39 page)

Chapter 38

Dune led the way through the crowded streets as Trae carried his cargo, trying not to attract too much attention. When they approached the stadium, the people were densely clustered. Wearing the long, dark, magician’s robe, Dune pressed into the people, who, upon seeing a magician, opened a small passage. Trae kept close, making sure to not lose his place in the wake of his friend.

From the outside walls of the stadium they could hear the boisterous cheers of the fans as the horses galloped toward each other, then an explosion of applause and shouts when lances clashed on armor and shields. Dune moved along the perimeter away from the entrance. The farther he got from the entrance, the more room they had, until they were almost entirely alone moving into a small back alley between the stadium and the city wall.

“Where are we going?” Trae asked.

Dune answered by stopping alongside the city wall and pressing on some stones. The stone gave way and opened to reveal a narrow staircase cut into a hollow in the wall. Dune proceeded quickly as Trae struggled to maneuver his baggage. They descended the stairs in the dark. The only light flickered from the bottom. When they entered the lighted room they were surrounded by armed guards.

“What is your purpose here?” a well-built soldier addressed Dune. In the small entrance, all eyes were on the magician, not knowing his intentions. Dune did not have time to answer as a clatter from up the stairs announced Trae’s arrival. From the darkness rolled an unusual canvas bag.

“Sorry, he slipped,” Trae was saying as he entered the room. He quieted when he saw the group with weapons drawn.

“This is my purpose,” Dune answered pointing at the sack. “I need to speak with Sir Theodore.”

“Sir Theodore is away on urgent business.”

Dune reached down and pulled open the sack. At his movement, the men visibly tensed. Dune pulled the seeker’s elixir vial from the man and held it up.

“Get this man to a secluded cell, keep that container close. The moment Sir Theodore arrives, notify him that we have one of Mordyar’s seekers.” Some men in the group gasped at this last remark.

“Let’s go,” Dune said. He began walking up the stairs.

“Wait. Who are you?” a guard called after them. Dune continued to walk, ignoring the questions that followed them as the two men ascended and exited.

Dune led the way through the streets of Lexingar, passing people who didn’t have any idea what had happened.

“It is amazing to me,” he remarked, “that we were able to find the leader of the seekers, poison her elixir, and quite possibly cripple Mordyar’s supporters inside of Denall.”

Trae looked at his friend questioningly, “I’m getting pretty tired of asking this,” Trae began, “but this isn’t done yet is it?”

“Well,” Dune said with a mischievous grin, “I’d sure hate to miss the reaction on Melna’s face when she realizes what we’ve done.”

“Speaking of the look on people’s faces,” Trae added as they made their way to the south gate, “When am I going to have my own face again?”

* * * * *

Sir Theodore entered the training ground under the Lexingar stadium followed by a proud young man with a great warhorse. The moment Sir Theodore entered the room, there was a flurry of action. “We have a prisoner, delivered by a magician,” one guard said as he saluted his superior officer.

“Where is he?” Sir Theodore responded, running to look up a flight of stairs that led to one of the closest entrances.

“In the dungeon, in isolation.”

“Not the prisoner, where is Dune?” Sir Theodore asked, turning on his soldier.

The corporal was partly embarrassed and partly confused by his misunderstanding.

“The magician never gave his name, but he went back out that way,” he pointed up the stairs, confirming that where Sir Theodore was looking was the direction Dune had gone.

Without a word to Mylot, Sir Theodore rushed up the steps. In a few short moments, he returned.

“He’s gone,” he said to nobody, then to the corporal, “Take me to the prisoner.” The two men disappeared through an iron reinforced door.

Mylot felt unsure what to do as he looked around the room of unfamiliar faces. After having accompanied Sir Theodore as he made various offers to candidates who had performed well in earlier events, even being ordered to stand on the outskirts of a caravan as he had discussed a position on the king’s guard with Farin, his final opponent from the single-handed sword competition, Mylot was feeling thoroughly deflated and frustrated. He stood still and tried to look confident.

“The stables are that way.” He turned to see a woman in her late twenties pointing down a well-lit passageway.

“Thank you,” Mylot said, absently handing her the reins.

She dropped the reins to the ground, and shook her head. “Do I look like your stable boy?” She gestured to her armor and crest that bore the mark of the king’s guard. Without waiting for a response, she turned away. “What a fool.” Some of the nearby soldiers began laughing at Mylot as he retrieved his horses’ reins. Mylot’s face contorted in anger.

“How dare you treat me like this, do you not know who I am?”

“Yeah, we know who you are,” one man started folding his arms across his chest.

“You’re the coward who fled from the jousting tournament,” the woman added, not even turning to look at him. She grabbed an apple from a fruit basket and took a bite.

A third man joined in, “I believe the new stage name for you is Mylot the Mouse.”

Mylot pushed his horse out of the way and stepped toe to toe with the three soldiers. “You know nothing, and will all answer for this impudence!”

Mylot advanced on the woman, but she continued to chew on her apple without seeming to notice him.

“Wow, I’ve never been accused of being impudent to a mouse before,” she then turned and glared at Mylot, “and if you don’t quickly learn your place, you’ll always be a mouse.”

“That’s better than being a stubborn, smart mouthed spinster, which is where you’ll end up no doubt.”

The woman shot out her hand with lightning speed and grabbed him by the breastplate with one hand and pulled him until he was an inch from her face.

“What was that?” She threw Mylot to the stone floor, and took another bite of her apple as if the fruit was more interesting than he was.

Mylot stood up slowly, dusting himself off. “I have never seen someone move so quickly,” his amazement overshadowed his anger and he extended his hand.

The woman placed her apple core in Mylot’s open palm. “The stalls are down that way,” she chuckled again and turned to talk to the other men who were watching in amusement. Mylot stood for a moment taking in all the emotions from the time he had left the joust to follow Sir Theodore.
What have I done?

After brushing down his horse, Mylot sat on a small stool in the stalls, not knowing what else he should do. He had never been so completely ignored before. After sitting for several minutes, he heard a familiar voice from down the passage.

“Where is he?”

“I don’t know,” came the response from the cocky woman. “Maybe he’s still with the horses.”

After a short silence, Sir Theodore came into view followed by the woman who had bested Mylot unarmed.

“This is Captain Conrad. She will be helping you get situated. I have some paperwork to do regarding some new recruits.”

Captain Conrad looked at Sir Theodore, completely disregarding Mylot, “Did you speak to Farin and that girl from the single combat? They were very impressive.”

“There were many fine soldiers this year.” Without another word to Mylot, Sir Theodore left.

Captain Conrad saluted to Sir Theodore, then watched as he walked away. When he was out of sight, she exhaled loudly, then turned to look at Mylot.

“Come on this way,” she motioned with her hand for him to follow. Mylot sat still for a moment glaring up at her. “Or you can stay here, I really don’t care either way.”

She led Mylot down the hall, and as they walked, he tried to engage her in conversation. Despite her complete lack of respect, she seemed to be an amazing warrior, and having already achieved the rank of captain, she was due a measure of respect.

“So, Captain Conrad, why don’t you compete in the tournaments? With your reflexes, you could easily win.”

She squared on Mylot, “If you are going to join with us, you really need to stop thinking about tournaments, and winning, and being the center of attention. We work behind the scenes to keep the kingdom safe. If you want recognition and awards, go somewhere else, and take that pampered horse of yours with you.” She held Mylot’s eyes for a moment as if anticipating Mylot leaving. Mylot gave a look of determination. His commanding officer nodded and continued down the hallway.

“Very well. Welcome to the king’s guard. Let’s see if you can survive the training.”

* * * * *

Kaz unconsciously rubbed his shirt before remembering that the Sight Stone was no longer hanging there. As insurance that he would not go running off to warn Omer, P had taken it and his magical rings before she let him return to say goodbye to his friends.

When he entered the circle of wagons, he headed right for Blade’s home. Farin and Angela were quietly sitting by Blade's wagon when Kaz walked into the light of the campfire. Despite all the popularity and fame they had gained in a single day, they both looked glum.

“What's going on?” Kaz asked, sincerely concerned for his friends.

Angela looked up and was the first to respond. “Oh, hi Kaz. We didn't see you coming,” she said rather flatly. Then, as her eyes looked downward again she said more quietly, “Just talking about what we're going to do.”

Kaz looked quizzically at them. “We? Can't you do whatever
you
want?” Then to Farin who was silent, “Farin, you've always wanted to train for the king's army, now you have the chance to be on the king's personal guard.”

“I know,” he began, “but the truth is, I'm not sure I want that anymore.”

“He's being ridiculous!” Angela began. She sat up straight and threw her arms in the air in frustration. “He is going with them in the morning.”

Then Farin turned on her, “You can't tell me what to do.” He emphasized his words by pointing back at her. “I like it here, and Blade can train me just as well as anyone else.”

“You're bull headed and stubborn, and maybe
I
don't want you around!” Angela said this with no regard for anyone who was listening, then she stood up, and with a stamp of her foot, turned and stalked away.

Kaz sat down next to his friend. “What is going on?”

Farin looked frustrated. “I don't want Blade to think I'm abandoning him, and I like the life of peace and trading with the caravan.” He seemed to struggle for more reasons. “We'll see all kinds of places, and I don't need to fight, and…”

Kaz cut him off, “And you'll get to stay with Angela.” He looked down at Farin and waited for Farin to meet his eyes. “So your little huff here is a lover's quarrel?” Kaz began to laugh.

Farin shoved Kaz off the seat and Kaz rolled on the ground still laughing. He then started stalking close to Farin, ready to pounce. Farin normally wouldn't have worried about Kaz wrestling him, but remembering the sharp pains caused by the rings, Farin looked at Kaz' hands in the darkness. “Kaz, where are your rings? I'm not getting sucker punched with ice again.”

Kaz stood up from his crouched position. In the moment of youthful fun, he had almost forgotten his own obligations. Instead of wrestling his friend, he walked to him, and as Farin stood up, Kaz caught him completely by surprise in a full bear hug.

“I have to go,” was all Kaz could say.

Farin stood solid as a pillar not knowing what to do. Eventually he gave Kaz a reassuring, but awkward pat on the back.

“It's all right, buddy.”

Kaz released Farin. “Sorry, I just… We just started with… more. And now I’m leaving you too.”

Farin looked at Kaz quizzically, but knew that this was not the time to make fun of Kaz's outburst of emotion.

“What’s going on? Where are you going?”

“This past couple of months I’ve felt a little lost. Like I’m wandering around without getting anything done. Now I’ve found something really important, and I feel like my journey to being a man is taking me down a new path. And it starts with going back for Bendar,” he answered, not sure how else he could explain himself. “I made some friends who are headed to Omer’s keep, and I’m going with them.”

Farin stood up, “Then I’m going too.”

“No,” Kaz said, holding up his hand, “you have a great offer here. Angela’s right, you can’t throw your future away. It’s what you’ve always wanted.”

Farin began pacing back and forth, “I’m not really sure what I want anymore, Kaz. It seems this journey of finding myself has done the opposite.”

Kaz grabbed Farin by the shoulders and stopped him from walking, “Then take some time to figure out what you want. Either way I can’t take you with me. These friends of mine hired me as an archer to help them hunt as they travel,” he lied. He couldn’t think of any better way to keep Farin from getting into the danger he would certainly face. “We’re leaving tonight, heading west, and then up to Omer’s keep. When I get there I’ll find Bendar.”