The Broken Key (02) - Hunter of the Horde

by Brian S. Pratt

  It worked!

  Kevik gave out with a cry and did a little jig. True, it would take the staff a day to gather sufficient power before the spells would be ready for casting, but he had done it!

  Tomorrow night, he’ll test his staff to make sure it will truly work. Then the following day he’ll head to the Tower where he’ll arrange for the testing.

  He picked up his staff with pride and looked at it. He closed his eyes and thought of his former master. I did it master. He almost felt Allar’s presence in that moment but knew it to be his imagination. Setting the staff back down on the stands, he returned to his cot. It took him a long time to return to sleep, but sleep finally won out.

  Chapter Fifteen

  _______________________

  In the morning when Kevik opened the tower door for Bart, he stood there with staff in hand and a grin upon his face.

  “You did it?” asked Bart.

  “Last night,” Kevik replied with satisfaction.

  “That’s great news,” said Bart. “When are you going to go for the test?”

  “I hope the day after tomorrow,” he replied. “I wish first to test my staff to be sure it actually works.” Before Bart could ask the question Kevik saw in his eyes, he held forth the staff and added, “It needs to gather magical energy before it will be able to cast any spells.”

  Bart nodded, he could understand that. “How long does that take?” Kevik shrugged. “I’m not sure,” he admitted. “From what the book said wherein I found the spell, it takes days for a staff to fully absorb the magic it requires. However, it should have gathered sufficient magical energy for me to see if the spells I put in it will work properly. After that, I’ll go down to the Tower and arrange for the test.”

  “Now if we can just get Riyan and Chad promoted to Armsmen, we can get on with things,” commented Bart.

  “Indeed.” Kevik noticed how Bart wasn’t coming further into his tower. “You coming up?” he asked.

  Bart shook his head. “No,” he replied. “I’m going to take all but five of the horses into town and see if I can sell them. That will leave one for each of us and a spare for supplies.”

  “Good idea,” agreed Kevik. “Always could use some extra coins.” Grinning, Bart nodded his head. “Especially when you’re not sure where it is you’re going.”

  Kevik nodded. “Now, about that lake with an island?” he asked.

  “Yes?” asked Bart.

  “This morning I remembered there was another lake with an island to the west at the base of the mountains,” he said. “It’s called Island Lake, I believe, due to the fact it has a small island.”

  Bart thought for a moment, he hadn’t heard of that lake. But then he had never spent much time outside of Wardean either. “Is there a town called Kartha near there?” Kevik shook his head. “No.”

  “Then Catha to the east is still our best bet,” he stated. “If we fail to find anything at Catha, we’ll give Island Lake a try.”

  “Just thought you might want to know,” Kevik told him.

  “Thanks,” Bart replied. “You never know. I better get going on into town. I’ll be there most of the day.”

  “Oh?” questioned Kevik.

  “I’m going to try and find out if Durik and his men are in town,” he said. After the attack, he’d been worried that they may be planning another attempt.

  “Be careful,” Kevik warned.

  “I will,” Bart assured him. Then he held up his finger and showed Kevik the ring he bore. “Should anything out of the ordinary develop, let me know.” Kevik nodded. “I will.”

  “Look for me after sundown,” Bart said as he turned to leave through the tower’s door.”

  “See you then,” Kevik said. Closing the door after Bart left, he secured the locks and returned upstairs to his workshop. After placing the staff back on its stands, he pulled down the book in which the farseeing spell was explained and spent the rest of the day working on it. Only a few symbols were ones he didn’t know, but they were permutations of the ones he had already learned, so shouldn’t be too difficult in deciphering. Then some time to get the inflections right and he’s got himself a new spell.

  Over in the stable behind the manor house, Bart saddled his horse. Then he saddled the horses he was taking in to town to sell. May as well sell their saddles and tack as well, no sense leaving it here to fill up the storeroom.

  Once all the horses were ready, he secured the reins of one horse to the saddle of another until they were all tied in tandem. Bart took the reins of the lead horse in hand as he mounted and then led them out of the stable.

  During one of his earlier visits to Gilbeth, he had noticed a horse trader on the eastern edge of town. It was there he hoped to sell the horses. He was certain the man would take them off his hands, what concerned him was how much he would get for them.

  The route to the horse trader took him through town. People on the streets paused to look at him and the horses as they rode by. It wasn’t every day a man was seen leading four saddled horses through town. Bart bore the stares with equanimity and made his way to the horse trader’s.

  When the horse trader’s shop came into view, Bart saw a man working on a horse’s hoof in the corral adjacent to it. He was using a file to smooth an uneven callous that had developed. When Bart drew closer, the man looked up. He nodded to Bart then went back to what he was doing without a word.

  As the man knew he was there, Bart rode to the fence surrounding the corral and dismounted. He held the reins of his horse as he leaned against the fence to wait until the man was finished. It wasn’t long before the man let go of the horse’s hoof and patted it on the flank. He set the file down on a table then moved toward Bart.

  “Can I help you?” he asked. Coming to the fence, the man first glanced to Bart then over to the horses.

  “Would like to sell four horses with accompanying saddle and tack,” Bart replied.

  “Hmmm,” the man muttered as he continued to look them over. “Stolen?” he asked.

  Bart shook his head. “No,” he replied. “They once belonged to a group of men that had tried to kill me.”

  The man nodded. “That wouldn’t have been the bunch who tried to kill old Allar’s apprentice would it?”

  “The same,” Bart said.

  “Too bad about Allar,” the man told him. “He was a nice enough fellow.”

  “Are you the horse trader who I need to see about the selling of these horses?” Bart asked.

  The man’s gaze returned to Bart and he grinned. “That I am.” Reaching a hand through the wooden rails of the fence he said, “Hornsby at your service.” Bart took the hand and replied, “Name’s Bart.”

  “Well Bart, bring them around to the gate and we’ll see what we have,” Hornsby said.

  He then turned and started walking over to the gate.

  Bart untied the lead rope of the four horses which was tied to his saddle then led the four horses he planned to sell to the gate Hornsby had already opened.

  Hornsby opened the gate wider when Bart arrived as Bart led them in. “They look a bit thin,” he said as they entered the corral.

  “Perhaps,” argued Bart. “But they’re still young with many good years left in them.” Once the gate was closed, Hornsby took each horse and inspected it; first the eyes, then the mouth, condition of the hooves, and a cursory glance at the saddle. As soon as he was through with one he would move to the next. When he was finished with the fourth horse he turned back to an expectant Bart.

  “I’ll give you forty for all four and the saddles they bear,” he said.

  “Forty?” exclaimed Bart. “They’re easily worth twice that, at least seventy five.” Hornsby shrugged and wore a look that said he wasn’t at all interested in them. He indicated the dozen horses in the other corral behind the one they were currently in. “I have more than I can sell as it is,” he explained. “I suppose I could give forty five for them.”

  Bart continued to haggle
and they finally settled on fifty three golds as the final price.

  Though not as much as he hoped for, it was still better than keeping the horses and paying for their upkeep.

  Hornsby took Bart into the adjacent building and had him wait in the outer room while he went into the back to get the coins. When he returned he held a bulging sack which he upended, dumping the coins onto the table. After they had both counted the coins and each was satisfied the number was accurate, Bart returned the coins to the sack.

  “Thank you,” he told the horse trader.

  “Any time,” replied Hornsby.

  Before leaving the building, Bart placed the sack of gold coins into his pack. Hornsby had already left and was taking his newly acquired horses over to the rear of the building where he was proceeding to remove the saddles and tack.

  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 ve
ry 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.