Quest SMASH

by Joseph Lallo

  “How does someone go about selling a piece of Narian armor?” Venk inquired. He looked over his shoulder at Tristofer, who was walking side-by-side with his brother. “How would you do it, Tristofer?”

  “I’d contact someone who is familiar with marketing, uh, such goods without attracting attention.”

  “Have you ever heard of someone selling Narian armor?”

  Tristofer nodded. “Every so often a piece changes ownership. Nothing to warrant any attention.”

  “What about hearing of a single person selling multiple pieces of armor at different periods of time?” Venk asked.

  Tristofer turned to regard his companion outfitted in red leather armor. He pulled out a rag, polished his spectacles, and put his glasses back on his nose while simultaneously stuffing the rag back into a pocket.

  “An interesting question. I am reminded of a time, a number of years ago, when I still lived in Bykram. Master Rohath, knowing my area of study, contacted me nearly a decade after I had last seen him and said that one of his students had come to class wearing a set of Narian gauntlets. Ordinarily I wouldn’t have thought much of this, and Master Rohath agreed, but the following year a different student came with a different piece of armor. A single greave, if memory serves, worn on his left leg. Just the one, mind you.

  “Master Rohath’s curiosity had been piqued, so when the next year a third student had appeared, wearing a guardbrace over his right shoulder, he finally pulled the pupil aside and asked him about the armor as clearly it was being worn as a symbol of status. ‘My father bought it for me’ the underling had told him. He looked up the two former pupils of his and was given the same answer. Knowing my penchant for any information on Nar, no matter how obscure, he tracked down one of the pupil’s fathers and asked where he had purchased it as he knew of one other pupil, me, that would love to have a piece. ‘A friend of a friend’ is what he was told. When he contacted me and told me this I dismissed it as fanciful coincidence. Now, I’m not so sure.”

  “How long ago was that?” Venk asked.

  Tristofer thought back to the days after he had been exiled from his home city.

  “At least fifty years, maybe sixty.”

  Athos looked down at the ground at the set of prints that had almost been covered back up by more dust.

  “Those tracks could be fifty years old.”

  Venk held up a hand.

  “I’m curious. Your field of study is Nar, right?”

  Tristofer nodded.

  “An old master of yours contacts you out of the blue and informs you that he had come across three different pieces of Narian armor in as many years. This doesn’t spark your interest?”

  “It did,” Tristofer admitted, “but I had just been banished and contact with one in exile was forbidden. Master Rohath risked his career and reputation just to contact me. Even so, I felt betrayed, and I had no desire to return to the city, not that I even could.”

  “Knowing now that Nar lies so close to Bykram, do you think the events are related?” Without waiting for the scholar’s response, Breslin continued. “I think it’s perfectly clear. Someone has been selling armor at Bykram and has been doing it for quite some time.”

  “And they’ve managed to avoid suspicion,” Athos added.

  “Why the fresh tracks then?” Venk wondered.

  “They’ve run out,” Lukas suggested.

  Venk and Breslin both jumped. They had forgotten that the usually quiet and reserved underling was standing nearby.

  Breslin looked over at the boy standing next to Tristofer. “You think they’ve run out of armor to sell, is that it, Master Lukas?”

  Lukas nodded.

  Venk looked back at the recently ransacked foundry and was silent for a few minutes. Athos approached and elbowed his brother in the ribs.

  “What’s bothering you?”

  “I can understand why the intruders were searching for armor,” Venk slowly began as he continued to work out what was bothering him, “but that forge had been thoroughly searched, from top to bottom. Armor isn’t that small. A cursory glance should be all that’s needed in order to determine if any pieces are present.”

  Intrigued, Breslin looked back at the foundry, too.

  “What are you thinking, Master Venk? They were looking for something else?”

  “Aye. And clearly they thought it could only be found where there are forges. I think they were looking for clues.”

  Understanding, Breslin nodded, followed closely by Athos. Bewildered, Tristofer looked at the other three adults before snapping his fingers in front of their faces.

  “Pretend I don’t know much about metallurgy, or common blacksmithing practices. What were they looking for?”

  Breslin turned to the scholar and nodded. “That’s precisely what they were looking for.”

  Tristofer’s spectacles slid down the length of his nose and teetered precariously. “What? What were they looking for?”

  “Clues! They want to know how the Narians made their armor. Think about it! If the secrets the Narian’s employed were ever discovered then other pieces of armor could be replicated and then passed off as authentic Narian artifacts. They’d make a fortune!”

  Tristofer puffed out his chest and crossed his arms in a rare act of defiance. “Not in my lifetime.”

  “Nor in mine,” Breslin agreed. “We learn the identities of the intruders and put a stop to this scheme. I think that’s what the Questor’s Mark wants us to do. It wants us to save Nar!” Breslin thrust out his right hand. “Are you with me?”

  Tristofer didn’t hesitate and laid his hand over Breslin’s. “Absolutely.”

  Athos laid his hand over Tristofer’s. “I’m in.”

  Father and son added their hands to the others. “Us, too.”

  Breslin eyed the underling. “This has the potential of getting dangerous, Master Lukas. You must stick close to your father’s side at all times, is that understood?”

  Wide eyed, Lukas nodded.

  “Tristofer,” Breslin continued, “you will become Athos’ shadow. Do not leave his side for anything, no matter what you see. That reminds me, do you have a weapon?”

  Tristofer shook his head no. Breslin pulled his small hand axe from his belt and held it out handle first to the scholar, who gingerly accepted.

  “Where do we go?” Venk inquired. He looked left, then right. “Which way?”

  Breslin held the torch down low once more and indicated the ground. “We follow the footprints. A great number of them head this way, to the east.”

  Athos shoved his torch down into the ground and twisted until it was out. Breslin glanced up and then around. He noticed that the levels of light had continued to increase and were now at a level in which the torches had become unnecessary. Both torches, once extinguished, were cast aside.

  “Can you tell if the most recent tracks also head east?” Venk asked.

  Breslin and Athos squatted low and peered at the many sets of footprints scattered throughout the dust. Both dwarves nodded. Athos wordlessly pointed east.

  Gripping his crossbow tightly, while Athos brandished his axe, the two brothers took the lead while Tristofer and Lukas followed close behind. Bringing up the rear was Breslin, who was constantly turning to check behind them to verify they weren’t being followed. The number of tracks began dwindling off the farther east they progressed. As they moved away from the heart of the city, and presumably from the mass of blacksmiths, the number of tracks also declined, as clearly the focus of the massive city-wide search existed elsewhere. The tracks they were following were joined by others coming in from other parts of the city. All were headed east, the same direction they were traveling now. So many tracks converged together that they were now following a trail through the heavy blanket of dust.

  Approaching the far eastern wall of the cavern, the group stopped and stared with amazement. The trail dead-ended right at the wall, but the w
all itself is what caught their attention. Carved into the granite were ten columns forty feet high. Directly in the center, with five columns on either side, was a huge arched doorway, complete with a thirty foot high door. As before with the partially closed security gate, this door, they could tell, was also ajar. A single chair, stripped of all adornments and jewels, was jammed in between the door and the frame, preventing the massive door from closing.

  The wall glowed brightly at their approach. The golden chain was present all throughout the columns and wall, but the light from the columns paled in comparison with that of the door.

  The illuminated golden chain had been expertly attached to the quartz crystals embedded within the granite door. Grand sweeping arches, more interlocking circles, and jagged patterns all covered the exquisite door, giving the first appearance of a vast conglomerated mess of swirled lines and shapes. However, the more the dwarves stared at the door, with its brightly glowing decorations, the more the many patterns and shapes seemed to blend in flawlessly with one another. The more they looked, the more they were convinced that they were looking at a masterful piece of art and that this door was the entrance to Nar’s imperial palace.

  Tristofer moaned quietly as he noticed the exquisite chair jammed into the palace door. He quietly ran his hands along the dented tarnished metal, not knowing that the chair itself was of the finest silver ever smithed. He peered anxiously into the dark recesses behind the door and immediately noticed that the open space the damaged chair had created was just enough to allow a dwarf to pass.

  Without waiting for the others, Tristofer hopped up onto the chair and boldly jumped into the darkness. The scholar watched with satisfaction as the great vaulted room began to lighten as the chamber detected movement. Moments later the rest of his group was standing next to him. Athos smacked the scholar on the back of his head, sending his spectacles flying off his nose.

  “Don’t do that again, you fool,” Athos growled ominously at him. “We stick together. You will allow one of us to go first in the future, agreed?”

  Hastily retrieving his glasses, Tristofer faced Athos’ angry glare and meekly nodded.

  “Sorry. I couldn’t help myself. I had to see what was in here!”

  “Try harder next time,” Athos told him. “There’s a chance someone could still be in here.”

  “I don’t think so,” Tristofer countered. He pointed at the closest wall. Several of the golden patterns had started to glow and were becoming steadily brighter. “Had there been someone else that passed through here, this room would already be lit. Look how it illuminated itself once we arrived. We are alone, my friends.”

  Comforted by that thought, Breslin returned Mythryd to its holder on his back. A moment later he pulled the activated power hammer from his belt. Holding the unique hammer tightly in his right hand, Breslin beckoned for the others to follow.

  The room they were in must have been a dignitary receiving room as it was large enough to accommodate several hundred people. Broken tables, chairs with missing legs, and damaged walls met their eyes. They noted with dismay that many of the chairs that were still intact were similar to the chair holding open the palace door. Just like the one outside, these other chairs had been picked clean of all their jewels and other valuable accoutrements. Even the nearby walls, once festooned with gold and jewels, lay stripped clean.

  “Never have I been so ashamed to call myself a member of the Kla Rehn,” Tristofer whispered in shock. Everywhere he looked he could see further evidence of the intruders’ destructive work.

  “Do not hold all the Kla Rehn accountable,” Breslin softly told him. “I believe this is the work of one person, or perhaps by one family over a long period of time. But, by thunder, that ends now. Whatever remains will be preserved no matter the cost.”

  Tristofer softly murmured his thanks. Athos and Venk both gave the scholar a friendly slap on the back to show their friendship and their support.

  “Prints are everywhere,” Breslin reported as he squatted to inspect the floor. “I would imagine this was the first location that was pillaged, followed closely by the surrounding blacksmiths. We need to investigate, but the question is, do we do that separately or together?”

  Venk cast a worried look at his son. Athos, catching the concerned look his brother had given his nephew, cleared his throat.

  “We should stick together. We know nothing about our adversary, which unfortunately includes how well they’re armed and what their numbers are. Until we know what we’re facing, we shouldn’t split up.”

  Breslin nodded. “Agreed. Master Tristofer, you wanted to find Nar. Congratulations. We’re here. Where would you like to search first?”

  “Well, perhaps we should search for an armory. I, for one, would like to know if our adversaries are armed with Narian weapons.”

  “Agreed. We should head to –”

  Lukas suddenly grabbed Breslin’s sleeve and tugged backwards, bringing him to a stop.

  “Do you hear that?” the underling anxiously asked.

  Fearing that Lukas had heard something which indicated one, or more, of the intruders had returned, Breslin tossed the power hammer to his left hand while reaching his arm behind to pull Mythryd free. Seconds later, Venk and Athos were also holding their weapons.

  “What is it?” Breslin whispered down to Lukas while straining to hear whatever sound the underling had heard. “What do you hear? Have they returned?”

  “I hear…”

  “Tapping,” Venk finished for his son as he straightened up. He looked around the large chamber and wrung a finger in each ear. “At least I thought I did. I don’t anymore.”

  “It’s stopped,” Lukas whispered. He pointed back towards the far wall of the room. Two large, and very open doors were visible, as were several dozen prints all headed in that direction. “I think it came from that way.”

  Athos shook his head. “I don’t hear anything.”

  “No one hears anything at the moment,” Venk softly told him. “Lukas heard it for just a moment.”

  Lukas suddenly jumped up and grabbed his father’s hand. “There it is again! Do you hear it?”

  The rest of the group finally heard it. A soft, repetitive tapping echoed softly throughout the room.

  …tap-taptaptap-tap-tap-tap-taptap-tap…

  The tapping stopped as abruptly as it had started.

  “I heard it that time,” Breslin quietly informed his companions. “Young Lukas is right. It came from that way. Follow me and keep quiet. No unnecessary speaking, is that understood? Tristofer, that goes for you, too.”

  Tristofer nodded and tapped his sealed lips.

  Once more, the tapping resumed. Breslin motioned for them to follow. As quietly as he dared, Breslin moved off towards the source of the noise. They passed through one of the open doors and entered a large, curved hallway that led away from the main hall. Breslin held up a hand and signaled everyone to wait. Within a few minutes, the golden chains present in the hallway began glowing, giving off their welcoming light to the visitors. After waiting a few minutes more so that they could see where they were going, they followed the curved hallway until it dead-ended into a smaller chamber with many doors leading off in different directions.

  Standing just inside the second room, they waited, motionless, for either their eyes to acclimatize to the lack of sufficient light, or else for the chains to awaken and give off their illumination. A few moments later they were off again, heading towards a doorway twenty feet away.

  …tap-taptaptap-tap-tap-tap-taptap-tap…

  “That’s it,” Breslin said in the softest of whispers. “Keep tapping. You’re making this too easy for us.”

  Athos softly grunted in agreement.

  The hallway they had just entered had doors on either side of the hall for a stretch of at least two hundred feet. Venk counted nearly twenty five doors, a dozen on each side, before they were forced to stop. Another door bar
red their way, only this door was unlike any they had encountered thus far.

  A solid iron door, resting on recently oiled hinges, blocked their way. No fewer than four heavy bars stretched across the length of the door and anchored itself into the stone walls on either side of the door. Heavy iron padlocks held each of the bars firmly in place.

  “Does that look Narian to you?” Breslin asked, confused. “What’s a door like this doing here?”

  Athos walked up to the sturdy metal door and peered through the tiny slit at eye-level.

  “Looks to be at least a foot thick. The bars are set into the wall on both sides, and each bar is locked in place. Someone clearly wants to keep people out.”

  “I’d say it’s more likely that they want to keep someone in,” Tristofer countered.

  Athos, Venk, and Breslin turned to stare at the impressive iron door. One by one, they turned to look down at the power hammer.

  “If you use that,” Venk cautioned, “then the chances of getting in and out of here unnoticed become very slim.”

  Breslin hefted the power hammer and eyed the door.

  “If there is someone on the other side of that door then this is starting to make perfect sense. Whoever it is gave us the hammer. Why? Because he knew that there would be no escape without it. Look at the door! Impenetrable, I’d say.”

  “Unless you have a hammer that can pulverize rocks with a single blow,” Tristofer whispered, understanding.

  “Exactly. Stand back. We’re going to find out what’s on the other side.”

  Venk steered Lukas away from the door and retreated a safe distance down the hallway. Once he was sure his son was out of danger he loaded his crossbow and waited to see what the outcome would be. Athos, also armed and ready, joined him. Tristofer appeared moments later, both fingers shoved into his ears. Venk clapped his hands over his son’s ears just as Breslin let the first blow fall.

  Venk cringed at the sound. The concussive blast echoed noisily down through the hall and, Venk was sure, out into the city. A second blow landed, and now a gritty cloud of dirt and debris appeared. The third blow struck, and despite the heavy ringing in their ears, they could hear a great cracking of stone. The fourth blow punched the steel door right through the wall and sent it toppling over with a loud clang.