The Broken Key (02) - Hunter of the Horde (43 page)

“You sure?” questioned Pyck. He didn’t seem very convinced.

“Completely,” the magic user replied. He had sensed the barrier spell Allar had in place below, but as it wasn’t malignant in nature, he didn’t dispel it. After all, Durik was safely in the house and not dispelling it was his way of protesting being dragged out here in the middle of the night.

“Good enough for me,” said Durik. Stepping through the door, he entered the estate.

“Wish we could hear what they are saying,” said Chad.

After getting settled into their inn, they had a quick meal and then adjourned back to the room Riyan, Chad, and Chyfe were sharing. There Kevik had taken one of the flasks holding his mixture and emptied it into his bowl. In a matter of moments, he had Durik and his men in sight. They had watched them approach the estate and the lethalness of Allar’s traps.

“He’s a bloodthirsty sort,” observed Seth after Durik killed Lex. “Killing that man as he did. Why would he kill his own man?”

Riyan shrugged. “Who knows?” Returning his gaze to the image displayed upon the mixture, he watched as the magic user entered the estate. A moment later, Durik and his men followed. “You’re going to have to fix that front door,” he commented to Kevik.

“I’ll do more than that when I get back,” he said. Obviously the protective wards in place were not sufficient to stop someone determined to enter.

The magic user and Durik exchanged a few words in the front room, then the magic user walked back toward the front door. The next ten minutes went by as they watched his men search the house. The spell remained centered on Durik and at times they would lose sight of Pyck as they went to examine other rooms. The magic user never again reappeared in the image.

“Think the magic user might have left?” asked Chyfe.

“Let’s hope so,” Riyan said.

In the image, Durik’s head turned abruptly as if someone had called for him. Then he started hurrying through the house. He finally joined Pyck and most of the remaining men at the door at the top of the stairs leading down to the basement.

“Oh man!” exclaimed Bart.

“What?” replied Riyan, a bit startled by Bart’s exclamation.

“The coins!” he said. Riyan’s face paled as he recalled the chest full of gold coins bearing the symbol of the King sitting in a room down there.

“They may not find them,” offered Chad. He too was quick to realize what was about to happen.

“Coins?” asked Seth.

“Yes, we stashed quite a few coins of the King down there,” he explained. “And now he’s going to find them.” Gold coins too. If Durik was intent on finding them before, it’ll be nothing like it’s going to be if he should find those.

“Not if the magic user left,” Kevik stated. “There’s a ward on that door Durik won’t be able to get through.”

“Let’s hope so,” Riyan replied as he turned his attention back to Durik’s image.

Then all of a sudden, the image in the bowl disappeared. “Sorry, spell ran its course,” Kevik explained.

“Can you get it back?” Bart asked.

“Yes, but I only have one more casting before the mixture in the bowl becomes useless,” he explained. “I do have two other flasks made up, though.”

“We should save those for an emergency,” Chyfe said. “They may come in handy should Durik be able to locate us.”

“True,” agreed Riyan. Then he looked questioningly to Bart. “Well?”

“Whether he’ll be able to gain access to the coins or not isn’t going change the current situation,” he said. Then to Kevik he asked, “Could you use the rest of that mixture in say an hour?”

Kevik shrugged. “Maybe,” he said. “I’m not entirely sure how long the potency lasts after its initial use.”

“What do you have in mind?” Chad asked.

“The one thing we need to know for sure,” he said as he glanced around at the others,

“is whether he found the clues we left and has taken the bait. It shouldn’t take him more than an hour to find what we left.”

“That’s for sure,” agreed Seth. “You’d have to be a blind person not to see the one you left sticking out from under your bed.”

“And once he finds one, he’ll search for more,” concluded Soth.

Bart nodded. “Let’s give it an hour or so and then try to determine if he’s heading to Island Lake.”

“Be hard to tell if he’s in the dark,” warned Chyfe.

“We’ll see,” replied Bart. “If it’s as he says and this stuff isn’t going to last long, then we’ll need to try in any event.”

“What do we do if he doesn’t take the bait?” asked Chad. “Or doesn’t figure it out?”

“Then we ride like hell to Catha before he does figure out where we’ve headed,” Bart said.

For the next hour, Chyfe told them about Catha. What to expect, the people, and a hundred other reminisces of his life there. From the sound of it, the town was going to be pretty much like Wardean.

When the time came to once again check on Durik, they found Durik, Pyck, and the men he had with him at the estate riding hard. The magic user wasn’t with them. In the faint moonlight, it was hard to determine which direction they were going.

They kept the spell on him until its effectiveness expired, but they were unable to determine where they were headed. “We know for sure they aren’t heading for Gilbeth,” Chyfe said. “If they had been, they would have reached the outskirts by now.”

“Then where are they off to in such a hurry?” asked Chad. And that was the question on everyone’s mind as they went to sleep that night. Was Durik on their trail? Headed for Island Lake? Or maybe still elsewhere? Only time would tell.

The following morning saw them leaving town on the eastern road. As miles fell behind them, the road began entering the southern edge of Ki’ Gyrx Forest. This area was well maintained and the forest hadn’t been allowed to establish much of a foothold.

The road they were traveling upon was one of the main highways connecting Byrdlon. Running east to west as it does, it passed through most of the kingdom.

Throughout the day they were never alone on the road. There was always either a caravan making its way from the east, or they overtook one heading west toward Catha. Not to mention the numerous travelers, coaches and just about everything else you could imagine. Riyan had thought the main road running north and south by Quillim that ran the length of the eastern mountains had been busy, but this road put it to shame.

Not too long after noon they came across one of the many roadside inns that sprouted about every five miles or so. There they stopped to have a bite to eat before continuing on. Ever mindful of the fact Durik would at some point be after them, they didn’t linger long.

Nightfall found them still on the road, the last inn they had passed was over six miles behind them. They were sure there would be another, but as yet hadn’t come across one.

Traffic on the road had dwindled with the setting of the sun. A few lone travelers and one caravan hoping to put a few more miles behind them before stopping for the night were all they came across.

They continued pushing on until finally coming to the small town of Forest’s Edge.

An accurate name as it was nestled in amongst the trees of the outer edge of the Ki’ Gyrx Forest. Before they reached the outskirts, they saw the glow from numerous campfires where caravans were camped to the north of town for the night. The town boasted three inns, all but one were filled by travelers who had arrived before them. There were only two rooms left at the Silver Leaf and they felt fortunate to have them. At a silver each, they were way overpriced but it was still better than sleeping on the ground.

Once their horses were settled in, and all their equipment but the two packs that never left their sides were in their rooms, they headed down to the common room for dinner.

Much to their surprise, the music of an itinerant bard that had set himself up in one of the corners filled the common room. A wooden bowl painted a garish bright purple sat on a stool next to him. Patrons of the Silver Leaf would from time to time place a coin within the bard’s bowl.

“Not a bad place,” commented Chyfe.

Riyan nodded. “It isn’t half bad,” he agreed.

They had little conversation while they ate, instead they listened to the conversations going on around them. Most of what they heard concerned topics they were already familiar with. Such as the news about the sacking of Sandlun, the increase of troops down there, and a dozen other snippets of a more mundane sort which were of little interest.

It wasn’t until Bart overheard a couple sitting at the table next to theirs mention ‘The River Man’ did he take much notice. He glanced out of the corner of his eye at the couple and saw them to be regular people, maybe a craftsman and his wife or something similar.

He turned back to his food and began to pay more attention to what they were saying.

“I know it’s going to be hard dear,” the woman was saying, “but we couldn’t stay there any longer.”

Sighing, the man replied, “I know.” Then he slammed the table with his fist and said,

“But I grew up there as did my father before me. It isn’t right!”

“With word The River Man was on his way, we couldn’t stay,” she said to him.

Reaching out her hand she leaned closer to her man and began rubbing his back and shoulders.

Bart recalled the name being mentioned in a message he had read during his initial visit to Durik’s place. He couldn’t recall what the letter had said about him. But this person was someone Durik held interest in, so that meant The River Man had something to do with the King.

Turning to the couple, he said, “Excuse me.”

The man turned in his direction and asked, “Yes?”

“I’m sorry to intrude,” Bart said, “but did I hear you say something about The River man?”

Riyan glanced at him in confusion a moment before understanding came.

“Why, are you a friend of his?” the man asked. His expression wasn’t one of congeniality, rather barely restrained hostility.

“I really don’t know the man,” Bart replied. “I heard his name once before and was wondering who he was.”

The man’s mood calmed a bit when he discovered Bart was no friend of The River Man. He turned his chair more towards Bart then said, “He’s a demon!”

“A demon?” questioned Bart.

“That’s right,” the man replied. “He and his tribe are a plague upon the world.”

“Tribe?” Bart asked.

The man nodded. “He’s the leader of one of the Moran Tribes,” he explained. “He’s the one that was behind the sacking of Sandlun if you ask me.”

“He’s very bad,” agreed the man’s wife. “Word came that men from his tribe were on the move again and we had to flee.”

“What about the soldiers Duke Knor has along the border?” Chyfe asked.

The man turned even further to meet Chyfe’s gaze. He then spit on the floor and said,

“That’s what I think of Duke Knor and his soldiers.” His wife laid a hand upon his arm to calm him. “Excuse me my love,” he said to her and then patted her hand.

Turning back to Bart he said, “Oh, he has men on the border sure enough. But they never seem to be where The River Man is. He sacks a town, or makes off with your goods, then the troops arrive the next day. It’s almost as if they let him know where they are, or are too scared to face him so arrange to be somewhere else when he’s about his devilry.”

Riyan saw the surprised look on Chyfe’s face at the man’s words. What the man spoke of was the worst sort of dishonor, not to mention criminal, if it were true. From the way the man spoke of it, it was clear that he believed what he was saying.

“We have relatives up north,” the woman explained. “We plan to make a fresh start where the world isn’t so unsettled.”

“I don’t blame you,” offered Bart. Having heard all he needed to, he said, “Thank you for talking with us. And best of luck up north.”

“You too,” the man said then turned back to his table and began speaking to his wife.

Quieter this time so he wouldn’t have to be bothered by another eavesdropper.

“Why the interest in this River Man?” Chyfe asked. It was clear he was quite upset by the way the soldiers of the Duke had been portrayed by the man.

“That’s something that would be better to discuss in private,” Bart said. Riyan gave a nod in agreement, and the subject was dropped for the moment.

They listened to the bard play for a short time after they finished their meal, then returned upstairs. There they managed to cram everyone into one of the rooms and explained to those who didn’t already know about the letter Bart had found at Durik’s.

“So Durik has been keeping an eye on The River Man too?” Seth asked.

“It would seem so,” Riyan replied. “Though we don’t know why.”

“We had thought he might have been another Hunter of the Horde,” Bart explained,

“but after what that couple told us, I’m not so sure.”

“And what about what he said about Duke Knor’s soldiers,” Chyfe interjected. “I can’t believe it could be true.”

“I can,” Bart responded.

“What?” questioned Chyfe. “How can you say that?”

Bart turned his gaze full onto Chyfe. “I’ve met many guards and soldiers who were less than the ideal honorable, defender of the people.” When he saw Chyfe begin to bristle at his words, he added, “Now, I’m not saying everyone associated with your craft is that way. But there will always be those who put their own personal welfare above that of others. And for people such as that, their oath would mean little to them.”

“It might have turned out fortunate for you to have come with us after all,” Seth told their friend.

“What do you mean?” Chyfe asked.

“Just that if things down on the border are as the man said, and soldiers are being less than honorable, they wouldn’t want someone in their midst who is honorable,” he explained. “One day, you would find out what was going on and most likely inform a superior. The next day while you were out on patrol, your comrades would leave your lifeless carcass in some remote location for the wild animals to dispose of. They couldn’t afford to leave you alive once you found out.”

Chyfe’s expression darkened with every word. He had always had the highest ideals when it came to the Guild, and everything to do with it. The last thing he wished to hear was anything that might tarnish all that he held dear.