by Jenner, M
The King’s Gold
Book I of
The King’s Gold Saga
by Martin Jenner
This book is dedicated to the memory of Wendy Wilson.
Solomon’s Map of Bodisha
Kern swung his sword in a wild arc in front of him, “Come out and fight me, you little whore!” He spun around, his sword again circling and slicing through the air. “Show yourself, you bastard,” he cried as he swung his sword wildly, turning round and round like a blind man. A small cloaked figure holding two daggers stepped out from behind a tree and crouched in front of him, ready to attack.
…
Dreams dance on the fading shadows of the night, taking the wisdom of their secrets deep within… The brief memories left in your waking mind… run fleeing from the morning sun… leaving scars to remind you of something unknown… The unconscious mind is a fearsome thing, filled with power… delve into your worst nightmares and return to us… return to us… return to us…
Table of Contents
Chapter One: The Apple Thief
Chapter Two: The Offering
Chapter Three: Mistaken Identity
Chapter Four: The Early Start
Chapter Five: The Giant on the Slope
Chapter Six: The Ferryboat Man
Chapter Seven: Deep Down
Chapter Eight: To Catch a Fish
Chapter Nine: The Black Tower
Chapter Ten: The Escape
Chapter Eleven: The Headache
Chapter Twelve: Old Friends
Chapter Thirteen: We Meet Again
Chapter Fourteen: Backdoor Exit
Chapter Fifteen: Eggs for Breakfast
Chapter Sixteen: Into the Mountains
Chapter Seventeen: A Tricky Spot
Chapter Eighteen: Babysitting Fire
Chapter Nineteen: Rats and Sewers
Chapter Twenty: The Last Stretch
Chapter Twenty-One: Up North They Go
Chapter Twenty-Two: Big Trouble Little Worm
Chapter Twenty-Three: Déjà Vu
Chapter Twenty-Four: Shalamia
Chapter Twenty-Five: The King’s Gold
AUTHOR’S ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Chapter One: The Apple Thief
It was early afternoon when Ty and Kern arrived in Raith, and they made their way directly to the marketplace. The city was busy and the market was filled with people trading for goods, weapons, livestock, armour, potions and poisons – just about everything an adventurer or trader might want. Humans, elves, dwarves, halflings and half-orcs mingled together, hustling, bustling, and bartering. The smell of cooked foods, fresh bread, and fruit filled the air.
The biggest city in Bodisha, Raith was often called ‘The Heart of Bodisha;’ every trader or adventurer, at least once in his or her life, came through here. They used Raith for every type of business; just about everything you could think of was sold here. Some said, if you couldn’t get whatever it was you were seeking, it didn’t exist. Ty and Kern were keeping an eye out for a good many things as they roamed the marketplace, but primarily they were looking for a way to refill their empty pockets.
Ty, a halfling, roved from stall to stall, oblivious to the glares of several merchants. Ty never really looked clean; his clothes were more suited to an urchin than a thief, his hands and face always discoloured with muck. His cloak, at least, was clean; it was one of Ty’s few permanent possessions and he cared for it well. The black wool of its hood mingled with various shades of grey at the shoulders, and dark greens were blended in around chest level. It was very nearly perfect night-time camouflage for both city and wilderness. At the bottom fourth of the cloak the colours all merged to mottled browns, which had the added benefit of helping to cover up any mud that might splatter on the hem. Today, however, it was freshly washed, and hung down to just below Ty’s knees, revealing leather boots tied up with leather twine. Whatever else may have lurked underneath the halfling’s cloak was anyone’s guess. The cloak’s hood shadowed Ty’s face, giving only a glimpse of his slender features and dark brown eyes. The stall-minders didn’t need a soothsayer to tell them to keep an eye on their wares when Ty came near.
Kern, a human who stood two feet taller than Ty, strode easily through the streets. His longer legs gave him the advantage, and Ty complained constantly as he scrambled to catch up with his companion every few paces. Kern’s cloak was the typical mottled forest green of a ranger; resembling the colour of the trees and other plants that grew in the woodlands, it gave rangers an almost perfect camouflage. His green light-leather armour, dyed with the same technique, matched perfectly. The dye used to colour the cloak and armour was made by boiling the root of foxgloves, which were found only in the Gateford Forest. It was not a welcoming place, which made the dye all the more sought after, as only the foolhardy would travel into the forest to retrieve it.
Across Kern’s back rode a longsword, the hilt peering over his left shoulder; hanging over his right shoulder was a birchwood longbow and a quiver of arrows, and a rapier hung by his side. He walked tall with his hands clasped behind his back, and his hood was down, revealing his handsome features. His dark green eyes and square chin were framed by long golden hair, tied back into a ponytail which hung just below his shoulders. Any of the merchants would gladly have contracted with the likes of Kern – to protect their goods from the likes of Ty.
“Remember, Ty, just keep your hands in your pockets this time. I don’t want a repeat of Leopard’s Town,” Kern said.
“I was stealing to feed us, if you remember!” Ty replied angrily.
“Yes, you just weren’t doing it very well, wouldn’t you agree?” Kern sniggered.
“If you hadn’t lost all our gold in that stupid dice game, I wouldn’t have had to try.”
“Whatever the reason,” Kern said, in a hasty attempt to regain the moral high ground, “just don’t steal anything, argue with people, or get drunk. That should be simple.”
“All right then, I won’t. When we’re skint, don’t ask me to steal anything, and I won’t offer to share if I do.” An uncomfortable silence lingered for several moments before Ty continued, “How much have we actually got between the two of us, anyway?”
Kern was about to deflect Ty’s question when a young boy came running through the marketplace. He was dressed like a beggar and wore nothing on his dirt-blackened feet, his face nearly as filthy as his toes. The boy’s long hair looked like it had gone a moon or two since its last cleaning. Of more immediate interest to Ty, the boy was being chased by two town guards. Their swords were still sheathed, but Ty could tell by the anger on their faces that they meant business.
The crowd milling around the market place seemed to split open for the oncoming guards; many stopped and watched expectantly, willing the guards to catch the boy just to see the punishment that would be dished out. A few cries rang out in protest – “He’s just a boy” and “Bullies” – but most of the shouts were lost in the everyday burbling noises of the marketplace.
“Stop, thief! In the name of King Moriak!” shouted one of the chasing guards. Kern noticed the boy was carrying an apple in each hand.
The boy flew past, jumping up and then springing off a barrow full of fine silks collected from the northern silk mines of Bodisha. The trader struggled to keep the barrow upright, cursing at the running boy.
Just as the boy’s pursuers reached Ty and Kern, Ty stepped out in front of the first guard and placed his foot firmly down in the dirt, bracing for the collision. The guard ran straight into Ty, and went tumbling over the halfling to land on a vegetable cart, spraying carrots and potatoes everywhere. Ty’s hood slipped off in
the melee, revealing a topknot dyed red and three identical scars running from his left ear to the corner of his mouth. It looked almost as if a wildcat had clawed him.
The second guard, fatter and slower than the first, stopped and drew his sword. “I saw that!” he shouted, trying to regain his breath.
“You saw what? He ran right into me,” Ty began to argue. Kern rolled his eyes.
The first guard had picked himself up; after brushing himself down and straightening his bright red hair, he collected his helmet from the vegetable vendor and jammed it back onto his head. “By the power vested in me by King Moriak, I’m arresting you,” he said, still brushing street dirt from his chainmail vest.
“Arresting me!” sputtered Ty. “For what? First you barrel into me, then –”
“For helping that no-good common apple thief escape!” The guard’s face was rapidly turning as red as his hair.
Kern stepped forward, thinking to himself, Here we go again. “I saw everything that happened – you ran into him. Sir,” he added hastily.
“We’ll just see what the jailer has to say on the matter, shall we? Now drop your weapons,” the larger guard said firmly, glaring at Kern. With a dismissive glance at Ty, he added, “You too, you scar-faced little imp; drop everything before I scratch up your other cheek.”
Ty paused, remembering how he’d gotten the scars on his face. Icily he said, “I am not dropping anything. I did nothing wrong.” Drawing a bone-handled dagger from each sleeve, he planted his feet firmly in the dirt.
Kern stepped close and placed a hand on Ty’s shoulder “Hold on, Ty. Listen, friends, my companion here isn’t – well, you know… isn’t completely with us today. Can’t we just forget this whole horrid event ever happened?”
Both guards grinned and slowly shook their heads. Ty turned to his companion. “‘Not with us today,’ eh?” Kern shrugged his shoulders and reached for the hilt of his sword, knowing deep down this was going to end badly.
By now a crowd had gathered to watch the proceedings, and the usually noisy marketplace was hushed. The two guards stood their ground, as if they were waiting for the tension to break. Suddenly, two crossbow bolts thudded into the dirt inches from the ranger’s leather boots. Kern looked up swiftly and saw four more guards standing on a flat-topped roof above them, each one aiming a crossbow at the scene below.
Two of the guards reloaded, but all four gazes remained locked on the human and halfling in the marketplace. The guards shifted positions slightly, revealing a tall man dressed in a black robe with a long black cloak. In one hand he carried a massive wooden staff.
The dark-robed man stepped forward and slammed the staff down onto the wooden beams upon which he stood. “The guards instructed you to drop your weapons, thieves.” His voice hissed through the stillness like a snake through dry grass.
Kern looked at Ty and nodded once, curtly. They each dropped their weapons in the dirt, raising small puffs of dust.
The heavier guard chuckled. “You were right, Devon. You said this’d be easy, that two petty thieves wouldn’t dare put up a fight.”
The red-headed guard nodded and smiled at the compliment. “You stick with me, Don, and you’ll wear gold.”
“Don’t you mean ‘wear shit’?” Ty smirked and pointed at Devon’s leg. As the guard had fallen, he’d rolled in horse manure and the remains were sticking to his leggings. He swore and started scraping it off with his sword.
Two guards stayed on the rooftop, crossbows aimed at the pair in the square below. The others made their way down and around to the captives. Within moments of the guards’ arrival, Ty and Kern found their hands behind their backs. The tall man in black walked past the captured duo. “All this for these two clowns,” he mumbled, shaking his head as he passed. “Well done, Devon – Don, good work. But Devon, clean yourself up; you look like shit.”
“It is shit,” Ty laughed.
“Shut it, midget,” Devon said, nodding to the guard behind the thief, who obligingly smacked Ty on the back of the head.
Soon they were soon being led roughly through the streets, three guards in front and three behind. Leading the procession through the streets was the tall man dressed in black, his long legs setting a quick pace. The townspeople made way without word, evaporating like morning mist, most avoiding the steely glare of the man in black.
As they shuffled through the town, Kern risked a glance at Ty. “This is it. We’re finished,” he muttered angrily.
“Oh, and I guess it’s my fault again, is it?” Ty growled back.
“Who else’s would it be? You’re the one barging into town guards.”
“Look, they’ll throw us into a cell for a few days, then let us go,” Ty said, trying to smooth things over. “We only bumped into a guard, not stole the king’s crown jewels. And we might get a decent meal for a change.”
“I very much doubt it. Look at the crap we ate in Leopard’s Town jail; it’ll be the same here,” Kern replied. “And we didn’t bump into anyone, you—”
The guard struck Kern’s shoulder using the flat face of his bastard sword. It was a slightly shorter sword than Kern’s, but the force behind it made him wince all the same. “Shut the hell up, you.”
Without saying a word, Kern stopped, turned slowly, and stared at the guard. The guard reflexively backed off a step, even though his prisoner was tied up. Without waiting for further reaction, Kern set his expression into a carefully neutral mask and resumed walking.
The pair was led through one cobbled street after another for what seemed like ages, until at last they reached the far side of Raith. Here the streets were visibly cleaner, and the stench of rotten lizard meat from the marketplace could no longer be detected. This is definitely the richer side of town, Ty thought.
They came to a halt in front of an imposing building; in a spacious, open-doored barn sitting opposite the main structure, great stallions were being cared for by young stablehands. Ty looked around for clues as to the compound’s purpose. He didn’t think it was a jail; at least, certainly not the type they were accustomed to. And, he thought ruefully, he and Kern were certainly well-acquainted with small-town jails.
It looked more like the house of a lord – someone powerful and wealthy, for sure. Ty immediately remembered a similar house in Phebon he’d entered one evening, along with two other apprentices from the Dark Shadow Thieves’ Guild. They had ended up with quite a nice haul, and Ty had always resented the fact he’d had to hand his take over to the guild just because he was only an apprentice, not a full-fledged member. Maybe this place would be similarly stuffed with pocketable, portable loot? Then he remembered his hand restraints and cursed under his breath.
Still fearful of the guard’s eagerness to use their bastard swords, Kern and Ty simply exchanged a confused and wordless look – but they both had the same thought: A wealthy looking house with big stables; six guards being led by a wizened man leaning on a staff? Definitely not your everyday town-guard capture.
The massive doors of the house opened, and they were prodded and shoved into the cool interior. When their eyes finally adjusted to the glare of sunlight through a glass-topped atrium, twenty feet above them, they registered the splendour of the building’s interior. Massive statues of human warriors, twice life-size, dressed in plate mail and carrying two-handed swords, lined the corridors. Suspended from near the ceilings far above, huge tapestries skimmed the floors, most depicting scenes from legendary battles between humans and orcs. The floor tiles were of polished marble, and a grand staircase led to the upper floors. Elaborate vases and priceless ornaments sat atop marble plinths.
Kern could detect the fragrance of sweet-smelling perfumes mingled with the delicious aroma of meats roasting; the sound of boots on the marble floor echoed through the house and blended with the sounds of the brutish guards, shouting orders at the staff.
The man in black turned to the guards. “Put these worms in the cells; I will deal with them later.” He turned to wa
lk up the massive staircase, leaning on his staff as he went. He struggled with the stairs, gripping the banister for reassurance – a striking contrast to his bold and energetic march through the town.
Kern and Ty were led through a long corridor past the massive statues. Guards and servants mingled about, but seemed to take no notice of the prisoners. As the friends neared the end of the corridor, they could see a set of double doors barring their way. One of the guards fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a set of keys on an iron ring,
After trying four keys without success, he finally unlocked the doors and, dragging his captives behind him, proceeded down another set of stairs which opened onto a gloomy corridor. On each side of this hallway were three cells, framed and separated by iron bars. Three rusty lanterns hung down from the ceiling, giving just enough light to see halfway into the cells. A guard opened one of the cell doors while another cut the rope binding the prisoners’ hands.
Kern didn’t recognise either of these two guards; did the full-face helmets they wore override any distinguishing features, or did this black-robed man actually have so many guards at his disposal? For that matter, he wondered, why would a city house of such splendour have six cells in its basements, and this many guards to tend them? Then, with an unpleasant shock, Kern saw a face he did remember, as the door clanged shut behind them.
“Sleep tight,” Devon said spitting on the cell floor before leaving.
The cell was a windowless square, with no furnishings aside from a bucket and a crude wooden bed, covered with a blanket that looked as though it had been there for a decade. Kern slid down to sit on the floor with his back against the wall and glared at Ty. “I don’t believe you. Every time, you do it!”
“What’s wrong now? You’re always moaning about something,” Ty replied.
“What’s wrong? Take a look around! In case you haven’t noticed, we are locked in a cell because you helped a stupid thief steal a couple of apples!”
