The Troven (Kingdom of Denall Book 1) (32 page)

“What does the stone do?” Trae asked, giving the small man a level look.

Edgar could barely take his eyes from Trae’s hand to look up at his face. “I don’t know.”

“Our business is done here.” Trae walked away from the tent with Edgar in tow, talking so fast, Trae could barely make out the words.

“It’s the truth. That is what intrigues me about this stone. I swear.” Trae stopped and turned, giving Edgar a this-is-your-last-chance look. “It is powerfully enchanted, more powerfully than almost anything I have ever seen, but I don’t know what it does. I swear that is the truth, on the life of the king!” Trae knew that even Edgar wouldn’t lightly make that oath, which meant, for now, he hadn’t figured out that the white stone was a fake.

“Now that you’ve had a good look at this stone, can you give me a better estimate of its worth?”

“It would be much easier if I could keep it for a while.” He reached out his hands.

“That’s definitely not going to happen.” Edgar closed his hands and dropped them to his sides. “I’ll meet you at the archery tournament tomorrow, and I’ll trade a fair price for this stone. I’m going to visit some magic shops in the city and see if anyone else can find out what this stone is worth.”

“I don’t think we need to wait till tomorrow. If you just let me look at it again…” Edgar pleaded.

“I’ll see you tomorrow at the archery tournament.” Trae turned and walked out of the tent.

When Trae returned to the magic shop, it was well past dark, and the lanterns in the shop were all extinguished. He experimentally pushed on the door and found that it was locked, so he knocked quietly at first, then increased the intensity of his knock until Morgin appeared.

“It’s rather late, Sir Trevor.”

“I am truly sorry. I tried to rush back, but the streets are packed.”

“Yes, they get that way this time of year.” Morgin inhaled deeply. “Come this way and get your rest, you need to be at your best tomorrow.” Trae tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. “You know, for the tournament,” Morgin said, answering the unvoiced question.

“Yes, the tournament will be quite a spectacle,” Trae replied, then moved toward the stairs.

“The ranges are open early for contestants to practice, so I will have your breakfast ready at dawn.”

Trae did not know how to respond to this. After a silent moment he simply said, “Thank you.” Morgin retired to his room, and Trae made his way down the hall to the guest bedroom.

Trae opened the door and entered the room. He could sense the presence of a person behind the door, but did not want to give that fact away until he knew he had a tactical advantage. In a smooth motion, he slammed the door fully open, jamming the intruder between the wall and the door. He unsheathed his dagger and circled around the edge of the door while using his enhanced strength to crush the man to the wall. He quickly sheathed the dagger and released pressure on the door when he saw Dune behind it.

“How kind of you to greet an old friend in such a manner,” Dune said while rubbing his ribs.

Trae closed the door. “What are you doing?” he demanded in a harsh whisper.

“I thought to myself, where can I go to get myself crushed to death? Then it came to me, sneak up on Trae, so here I am.”

“Seriously, why are you here?” Trae asked as he removed his armor and sat on the side of the bed.

“Well, for starters, you didn’t poison the seeker’s juice.”

“I was in a tent filled with two dozen seekers, what could I have done? I thought we were going to meet at the green tent. I could have used some help back there.”

“You did get some help back there, and two other times between the tent and the shop.” To give meaning to his words, Dune threw three seeker bottles on Trae’s bed, sat on a small stool, and leaned close. “They are hunting you to get that magical stone you have. They care about nothing but seeking magic, especially stones.”

Trae stood up and looked out the small window, then pulled the shades tightly closed. “Do they know I’m here?”

“No, you’re safe here tonight. That’s one of the reasons I picked this shop as our base of operations, it is filled with magical items, so it’s a perfect hiding place for us.”

“And our stones.”

“Exactly.”

Getting overwhelmed by all that was happening, Trae blurted out, “So what do we do next?”

“You have arranged for Edgar to meet you at the archery tournament, so we’ll start there. We know there will be a large crowd, so that will provide relative safety. We can also guess that most of the seekers will come into town during the tournament to search for any stone holders.”

“So that is when you’ll slip the poison into those barrels,” Trae concluded.

“Well, it’s not quite that easy.” Dune slowly responded.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m a magician. Seekers are very suspicious around magicians. I wouldn’t get within a hundred yards of that barrel without being followed.”

“Why don’t you disguise yourself or dress in normal clothing?”

“They see magic!” Dune exclaimed throwing his hands in the air, exasperated. “Don’t you listen to anything I say?”

“Well, maybe if you’d just speak clearly, it would be a lot easier to figure out what you’re trying to say!” Trae countered, going right up to Dune’s face.

“I’ll try to use small words for you. We need one decoy and one person to drop the poison.” Dune made a long pause, then patronizingly nodded his head, “Are you with me so far?”

“Just get on with it,” Trae said in annoyance, backing away.

Dune continued at his normal speaking pace. “So, I’ll get to the final round of the archery tournament, and then I’ll use my stone. It will be like a beacon for all nearby seekers.”

“Wait a minute. You’re going to be competing in the archery tournament?” he asked, facing Dune again.

“Yes, and so are you.” Dune responded, pointing at his friend.

“What? That makes no sense. How can I poison the barrels if I’m in the tournament?”

“If you would listen for a minute, I’ll explain. We need to have as many seekers gathered as possible, that means we need you to have an excuse to stand up in front of a large crowd for a prolonged period of time with a magical stone.”

“Well, I guess that makes sense.” Trae replied in a tone that said he clearly did not think it made any sense.

“As I was saying,” Dune continued, ignoring Trae’s confusion, “when you are eliminated from the tournament, you will go with Edgar. I will use my real stone in a dramatic, tie-breaking final round, and all the nearby seekers will see that I have a magical item, and they’ll stay. Then you can go with Edgar, knock him out or kill him, and then poison the seeker juice.”

“You make it sound so simple. I remember watching you with that seeker in the alley. What if he has magical protection?”

Dune shook his head, “Edgar is not a fighter; he is here to trade, plain and simple. Just hit him really hard when he’s unarmed and not suspecting it.”

“Fine. What will you do?”

“Well, I guess I’ll have to hide or run away. Not much else I can do with thirty seekers on my tail. You just need to make sure your part is done. Any more questions?” Dune stood back up and walked to the small window.

“One thing is bothering me about this plan,” Trae began. He spun around and leaned on the wall. “It all hinges on your ability to force a tie breaker in the archery tournament.”

Dune smiled at Trae and then opened the window to exit. “Don’t lose sleep over that part.” With that said, he vanished out into the night.

Chapter 32

Kaz walked down the streets of Dungan taking in the fresh spring breeze with its thousand familiar smells. Each breath was inhaled slowly and savored as the scents carried with them memories of a happier time. The flowers planted next to the town hall, the baker's bread, the smoke from the blacksmith shop, even the unique smell of the market that could never be called good was welcome to his nose today.

While the smells filled his senses, he strolled slowly down Main Street with nothing on his mind but enjoying the moment. He saw some familiar friends waving and greeting him. Garin and Farin almost bumped into him, being so engulfed in their banter that they were not watching where they walked. It was good to see his friends. As he continued down the street, he began to hear a soft hammering sound that was steady and methodical. At first he looked to the blacksmith shop, but the sound did not fit, then he was by the bakery, but there were no sounds that would cause this beating. It did not come from the general store or the inn, and was not caused by a rug being beaten to remove the dust. Thinking it might be a horse hoof, he checked the stables, but all he found there were some empty stalls.

Trying to ignore the sound was becoming more and more difficult as it became louder, so Kaz went in search of the one person he could always count on to figure out mysteries. He knocked and slowly opened the door to Bendar's home. Welcomed by Bendar's parents, Kaz asked after their son and was directed upstairs. Kaz found Bendar sitting at a desk studying some books on philosophy. "What's causing that sound?" Kaz asked his friend.

Bendar turned to look at Kaz, and Kaz immediately realized something was very wrong. Bendar was wearing thick makeup that obscured not only his natural skin tone, but it also made it impossible to see some of his facial features. His cheeks looked puffy and his lips looked fake.

"Come on Bendar," Kaz insisted. "Take that off so we can talk."

Bendar slowly reached for a rag and wiped the thick, white paint off his face, revealing  something Kaz had not expected. It was not Bendar's face at all but a familiar face he could not place. The features of the older man were smooth but strong. He looked sternly at Kaz but said nothing.

Confused and scared, Kaz ran out of the house. He ran past Bendar's parents, down the main street, and to the one place he felt he could call home. As he ran, the drumming continued and increased until the pounding was unbearable. Just as the noise became so all-consuming he felt it would crush him, Kaz crashed into Gran's house and shut the door tightly.

Safely behind the door, Kaz stopped to catch his breath.

"You can stay here if you like," Gran's familiar voice said.

Resting his weight against the door, Kaz looked up to see Gran.

"I don't understand," Kaz began. "What's happening? What is that noise?"

"That noise is your destiny, and you can choose to go to it, or you can choose to stay here." Gran looked at Kaz in a loving, but expectant way. He knew he needed to make a choice.

"What will I find if I go out there?"

"It will be hard. You will find pain. Friends will be dead again."

Hearing the word
again
made Kaz begin to remember some far distant reality where friends had died, or been hurt and lost.

"Why would I ever want to go out there?" Kaz asked.

"That is your road to being a man," Gran said.

"So I have to go out there to become a man?" Kaz asked, still confused.

"That is the way you must go if you want to reach  manhood, but it is your choice. It will be the most difficult thing you have ever done, but in the end it will make you a man like no other."

Kaz looked frantically around the room. "I don't understand. What is this place? Am I dead? If I'm dead, where is my family? Why did Bendar's face change?"

"Settle down, son," Gran said in an all too familiar, calming tone. "You can't have all the answers now or you could never grow from making a choice. If you stay here, you will be safe, but you will never grow. If you want to grow, you must face adversity and make decisions without having all the answers." Then, after giving Kaz a moment to digest what she had said, she continued. "You need to decide."

Looking to Gran, he asked one more question. "What do you think I should do?"

"Kaz, I love you like a son. I am proud of who you are. The question is not what
I
think, but what do
you
think? Are
you
proud of who you are and what you have become, or do you want to be more?"

"I don't really know what I have become. I don't remember…"

"Now is the time to decide, follow your feelings and choose."

Kaz stood up and looked back and forth between the door and Gran. 

"I know what I need to do."  He clasped Gran in a tight hug, then walked over to the door and stepped out.

* * * * *

The city was a mass of excitement long before the sun came up. Throngs of people crowded around the roped-off rings that would soon have contestants. Small children wedged between legs to get a better view, and everywhere people cheered and applauded when a contestant would make his or her way to a fighting ring.

Inside his quarters, Mylot tuned out all the bustling and cheering from outside as he sat meditating on the floor. He had been trained to ignore the unimportant and focus within.
Breath in, breath out
. Slowly his chest rose and fell as he focused inward. After several minutes of complete silence, Mylot struck his hands against the floor.

“I need to take care of this!” he burst out, pointing to the jewelry chest on the table.

Sir Rodnik calmly replied, “My Lord, now is not the time to think of trinkets, it is the time to think of your upcoming match, your movements, and find the calm you need.” He moved his hands down in a calming gesture.

Mylot got up and threw his arms in the air. “I know it’s a small thing, but it’s like a thorn to me. Once I get it taken care of, I’ll be fine. I just need to at least have a plan to deliver this.” He reached down and grabbed the chest from the table. “I made a promise.”

“Can’t one of the servants do it?” Sir Rodnik begged.

“No. This is something I need to deliver personally.”

Seeing that he would not compromise, Sir Rodnik conceded. “Your first event is hand-to-hand combat. You will win the first round quickly. There will be time between your matches to visit the archery tournament.”

Mylot cut him off. “I want to be rid of this before I start fighting. I will go to the archery stage first, then come back and fight.” Mylot glared at Sir Rodnik, daring him to make a counter offer.

Sir Rodnik exhaled in frustration. “Both events begin at the same time, and the streets are packed full of people, even if we left right now…”

“Fine,” Mylot relented, “If it is too crowded, and we are delayed, we will deliver it after the first match. But, I will at least try to get it to her before I begin fighting, then my mind will be fully calm.” Mylot walked to the door and motioned for a servant to open it. With his final declaration the matter was decided and he expected obedience.

“My armor,” he commanded.

“Yes, Milord.”

* * * * *

The chubby man taking names at the registration table was rushing quickly from one task to another, and his face was red with exhaustion.

“What’s your name?”

“Sir Trevor.”

Without looking up from his paper he continued to speak. “Very good.” Pointing to the side he continued. “Get your regulation bow and arrows from there, then make your way to the platform.”

Trae moved to the side, then turned back. “Thank you.”

Surprised, the man looked up. “What was that?”

“I just said thank you,” Trae replied.

“Oh,” the man said, then after a short pause the man smiled slightly. “You are welcome, young man. Good luck today.”

“Thanks!” Trae repeated with a smile, and then proceeded to try out the pull weight of some long bows. The first bow he tried was too long and awkward. He tried the bow one size smaller, it was sturdy, and felt more natural in his hands, he selected this bow and the arrows that matched it. He turned and almost ran into a tall figure in a long, dark robe.

“Wasn’t that a nice scene back there?” Dune said sarcastically.

“What are you talking about?” Trae asked in confusion.

Dune leaned in and spoke in a whisper. “You were being too nice to the registration clerk. You need to remember you are a knight, Sir Trevor. You have to act aloof and above those of lesser class. Just think cocky and arrogant.”

Trae tilted his head to the side and smiled. “So basically you want me to act like you?”

If he was amused by this comeback Dune did not show it. He walked past Trae and tested a bow. He spoke softly to his companion, though his back was facing him. “Just try not to draw too much attention to yourself, and remember we want to force a tie.”

In character, Trae turned away from Dune, raised his head and walked confidently to the center of the stage where he set down his arrows. He had arrived early for the event, and he had much of the stage to himself. There were two other archers taking practice shots down the row, and soon Dune would pick a bow and join them on the platform.

* * * * *

At first light, Kaz, Farin and Angela made their way through the crowded streets of Lexingar to their events. Farin and Angela had full armor on while Kaz was wearing comfortable clothing that allowed for complete movement. His only armor was the leather arm guard on his left forearm to protect from the snap of the bowstring. The three entered the city for the first time in weeks and they were amazed. The entire city had turned out to see the tournament. The streets were packed, filled with people waving banners of all kinds. Some of the clothing, hair styles and makeup were unlike anything Kaz and Farin had ever seen. Angela had to answer their unending questions about the different-looking people from all over Denall. The only people with horses in town today were those competing in the equestrian events and the nobles of high enough rank to have been approved entrance for their carriages.

No amount of vision practice could have prepared Kaz for this scene. Boon had him doing practice exercises, surveying vast areas to help him pick out details. As Kaz scanned, everything changed so quickly, and there were so many details, that it made him dizzy. He just stuck to following Boon through the crowded streets to the archery area. Kaz wished Farin and Angela luck as they parted for their separate events.

“I think I made a mistake,” Kaz said to Boon as they approached the archery range.

“What mistake was that?” Boon asked.

“I thought it would be an unfair advantage if I used my stone, so I left it with the caravan,” he replied.

Boon stopped and patted Kaz on the back, and with a proud smile on his face he addressed the young man.

“You’re a good lad. It wasn’t a mistake. You’ll do just fine without any magical help.”

Kaz nodded, feeling a little better, but still feeling a little lost without his magical stone. At the archery range, Kaz registered for the event and stepped over to select a regulation bow.

“Wait a minute,” the man at the registration booth stopped him. “You just wrote Kaz as your name. Don't you have some kind of a stage name or title?”

Kaz looked to Boon a little confused and the shrug that Boon gave him did not help.

“Just Kaz is fine.”

“I guess I can introduce you as ‘Just Kaz’, but it’s a little boring. I think you'll need to add something,” the man insisted.

“Back home they called me 'Eagle Eye'.” This made the man smile as he wrote the name down on the paper and waved for Kaz to pick out a regulation bow and arrows and move to the range. After pulling back on three or four bows, Kaz found one that he liked. He picked up the bow and the arrows that matched it.

Boon leaned in close to Kaz. “Remember everything your father taught you.” Kaz nodded, feeling both nervous and excited.

“I will. I feel like something big is going to happen for me today, like I’m standing on the edge of my future somehow. That probably sounds silly, but I had this really intense dream last night, and now I feel ready to move forward with whatever comes.”

Boon squeezed his arm and nodded, “I'm proud of you no matter what happens,” he dropped his hand and gave Kaz a sly smile, “but if you don't win, I'll never hear the end of it from Blade, so don't let me down.” With that said, he waved Kaz away, and the young man moved forward for his first look at the archery range and his competitors.

There were targets ranging from as close as twenty paces to about seventy paces. At the close end of the range there was a wooden stage on which all the competitors stood. Behind each firing position was a number nailed to a post. The numbers were being replaced by stage names as contestants signed in. A man had just nailed a board with the name “Kaz the Eagle Eye” on the post next to Kaz. Each contestant was in a group of five archers who shared targets down range. Kaz moved from his post to stand close to the front edge of the stage to begin his practice session.