Shepherd's Quest: The Broken Key #1

by Brian S. Pratt

  The night of the earthquake rocked the town badly. Several businesses were damaged in one way or another, but the worst was Chad’s father’s mill. The quake had cracked one of the two grinding stones.

  “Can’t we continue with it like it is?” Chad asked his father the following morning.

  Shaking his head, Chad’s father turned to him, “No. Once they get a crack in them, it’s only a matter of time before they break altogether. Not only that, but pieces of the stone will find their way into the flour.” His father sat down with a worried expression.

  “What can we do then?” Chad asked.

  “If we wish to continue to operate, we have to obtain another grinding stone,” he told his son.

  Chad looked to his father and saw the worry in his eyes. He knew that his father didn’t have all that much gold stashed away and grinding stones didn’t come cheap. “Are we going to be able to purchase another one?” he asked.

  His father turned to him and smiled a sad smile. “Things will work out,” he replied. “But it will be a week or more before a new stone can be brought here and put into place.”

  Just then, the Magistrate stepped through the door. “Heard about your grinding stone,” he said. “Too bad.”

  “Chad, could you go see if your mother needs anything?” his father asked.

  Chad knew that he wished him to leave for some reason, then it dawned on him why. His father was going to ask the Magistrate for a loan. The Magistrate was the only person in town who could possibly help. “But…” he began.

  “Please son,” his father insisted, “go help your mother.”

  Nodding, Chad got up and said, “Yes sir.” Then he headed for the door. He gave the Magistrate a respectful nod of the head before he passed from the mill and to the lane outside.

  He thought of what his father was about to do. There was no way they would ever be able to repay the Magistrate for the grinding stone. Most years they barely made enough to pay the taxes, feed their family, and buy other essentials they required. His father must know that, and so will the magistrate.

  As scenarios played out in his mind, he came to realize that it wasn’t so much a loan his father would be getting from the magistrate, but more like selling the mill. All his life, his father’s one pride was that he owned that mill outright. Now, it’s likely he was going to have to work for the magistrate for the rest of his life. The thought angered Chad.

  He wasn’t exactly sure where it was he was heading, he just put one foot in front of the other while his mind was preoccupied. Then Bart came into view as he rounded a corner up ahead. When he saw Chad, he hurried towards him.

  “Hey, did you feel that quake last night?” Bart asked.

  Chad came to a stop and nodded his head. “I think everyone felt it,” he replied.

  Bart noticed something was wrong so asked, “You okay?”

  Shaking his head, Chad said, “The quake cracked the upper grinding wheel. We’re going to have to buy a new one before we can turn any more grain into flour.”

  “That’s tough, man,” he said condolingly.

  Then Chad noticed one of Rupert’s cronies appear behind Bart. The young man stopped when he saw Bart and Chad talking before ducking quickly behind a building. A second later, he peered around the corner at them.

  Chad nodded to Rupert’s crony. “Are they keeping an eye on you?”

  “You could say that,” replied Bart. “Yesterday when Mirriam appeared, I was there when he accosted her and took back the necklace.”

  A worried looked came to Chad as he lowered his voice and asked, “Do you think he suspects?”

  “I think so,” Bart told him in a quiet whisper of his own. “As long as all he can do is suspect, we’ll be fine. He thinks Riyan is behind it.”

  “But he wasn’t even in town,” said Chad.

  “I know.” Bart glanced behind him and saw the crony peering around the corner again. “We’ll have to let Riyan know what’s going on as soon as he gets back. But right now, I need to return to the farm. She’s got me removing an old tree stump near the house. She wants to plant flowers there.” Rolling his eyes heavenward, he sighed.

  “I feel for you man,” Chad said.

  “If she was rich I would tell her to get a scroll from Phyndyr’s,” he said.

  “Phyndyr’s?” Chad asked.

  “Yeah,” nodded Bart. “He sells scrolls down in Wardean. One of the better scroll merchants if you ask me.”

  “Like what?” Chad asked, a glimmer of hope coming to him.

  “Oh, all sorts of stuff,” he explained. “Take this stump I’m going to be spending the next several days digging out. One scroll from him and it would be gone.”

  “You mean vanish?” Chad looked at his friend in disbelief.

  Bart shrugged, “Maybe if I wanted to pay that much for it. But a simple burn spell would probably do the trick. Or maybe one that would dissolve it.”

  “Do you think he would have one that could fix the crack in the grinding wheel?” he asked with newborn hope.

  “I would think so,” he replied. “But some of the scrolls get pretty pricy.”

  “Thanks,” he said, not really hearing him. If he could get a scroll cheap that would fix the crack, then his father wouldn’t have to sell. “How much do the scrolls go for?”

  “I’ve heard that some can go as cheap as two silvers,” he explained. “Others, though, could go for over a hundred golds, or more.”

  “I hardly think a scroll to fix a crack would cost very much,” he said. “I have almost a gold of my own saved.”

  “Maybe,” Bart agreed.

  “We could be there and back by nightfall,” he said.

  “I think it’s a bit further than…” Then realization hit. “What do you mean ‘we’?” he asked.

  “Yes,” he nodded. “You and I could ride down and be back after dark.”

  “I…I don’t know if I could get away,” he said a bit nervously. “I, um, really have to get that stump out.”

  Chad looked to his friend and saw something in his friend’s face he hadn’t seen before. “I’m sure she wouldn’t mind,” he assured him. “You go ask her and I’ll tell my father what’s going on.”

  “But…”

  “This is great!” Chad exclaimed. “Meet me at the mill after you talk to her.” Then he turned around and hurried back to the mill.

  Bart stood there for a minute watching the excited steps of his friend. Not nearly sharing his friend’s enthusiasm for going to Wardean, he swallowed hard. Only be there a short time, he said to himself. Then he began walking down the lane to tell old lady Rebecca that he would have to start on the stump tomorrow.

  “No!”

  “But father,” argued Chad, “this could save us.”

  “No!” his father repeated. When Chad had gone to tell his father that he and Bart were going to Wardean and why, he found his father emphatically against it.

  “Why?” he asked.

  “I will not take the chance on magic to save us,” he explained. “Nothing ever good came from such things.”

  “But Bart said this Phyndyr was a master scroller,” insisted Chad. “He guaranteed that we could get this fixed without having to borrow from the Magistrate.”

  His father gave him a look he’s seen many times over the course of his seventeen years. “I wouldn’t trust anything that friend of yours says,” he told his son. “What do you know about him anyway? Just up and rolled into town a year ago. Where did he come from? What drove him to come here?”

  Chad could only stand there as his father railed at him. He didn’t know the answer to these questions. Bart had never been one to talk about his past. He and Riyan had always respected that and never pried into it.

  “I think it’s a good solution,” Chad insisted.

  His father turned to him and said, “No! You are not to think about this any more. The new grinding wheel will be here by the end of the week. All the arrangements have been ma
de.”

  “So you’ve already sold the mill to the magistrate?” he asked.

  “I’m not selling the mill,” his father replied. “Merely getting a loan to cover the cost of the new wheel.”

  “You’ll never be able to pay him back,” Chad said. “It amounts to the same thing.”

  His father’s face turned red in anger. “I’m through talking about this,” he said with finality. “The subject is closed.” He glared at his son until Chad finally left the mill.

  When Bart finally arrived, he found his friend still in the vicinity of the mill. Chad didn’t see him right away, so engrossed was he with his thoughts. “You ready?” Bart asked him.

  Chad’s eyes turned to his friend. “He won’t even consider it!” he exclaimed.

  “Your father?” guessed Bart.

  Chad nodded. “He said, ‘Nothing ever good came from magic’.”

  “So what do you intend to do now?” he asked. He could see the hard set of Chad’s jaw. “You aren’t planning on going against the wishes of your father are you?”

  Nodding, Chad replied, “Yes I am. If this can save our mill, we would be fools not to do it.” He saw the look in Bart’s eyes. “What?”

  “Maybe you should respect your father’s wishes,” he said. “It’s his mill after all.”

  “It’s our family’s mill,” Chad corrected him. “I’m not about to stand by and do nothing when there’s a way to save it.” When Bart failed to comment, he asked, “Are you still coming with me?”

  “Yes,” he replied. “I doubt if you would be able to find Phyndyr’s place otherwise.”

  “Good.” Leading Bart to where he and his family live, they bypassed the house and headed directly to the barn out back. They quickly got a couple horses saddled and Chad left Bart in the barn while he went up to the house. Secreted in his room was his stash of money that he intended to use in purchasing the scroll.

  The sound of his mother in the kitchen reached him as he entered the front door. He closed it carefully so as not to alert her to his presence. He moved through the front room towards the hallway leading further into the house. The first doorway he came to led into the kitchen area and he paused there a moment. Peering around the corner, he saw that his mother’s back was to him as she worked on dinner.

  Hurrying past the doorway, he moved down the hallway and entered his room, closing the door behind him. His secret stash was hidden under a loose floorboard that one of the legs of his bed rested upon. He pushed his bed over a few inches until the leg was off the board, then bent over and pried it up.

  In his secret hiding place was a sack containing his life savings. Nestled in the compartment with the sack were several other items that held value for him. Chad took the sack out and placed it in his shirt before replacing the floorboard. Once it was set in flush with the floor, he pulled his bed back to its original position with the leg once again on top of the floorboard covering his stash. He got back to his feet, crossed the room, and opened the door.

  “What are you doing?” His brother Eryl stood there in the hallway looking very curiously at him.

  “Nothing,” he replied. “Doesn’t mother need help with dinner or something?” He stepped out of his room and closed the door behind him.

  “No,” he said, “and father’s busy at the mill getting it ready for the arrival of the new stone.”

  “Go bother someone else, Eryl,” Chad said as they stood there in the hallway. He turned to retrace his steps back down the hallway when he realized Eryl was following him.

  “You’re up to something,” Eryl said with a grin.

  Coming to a stop, Chad turned to his brother and said quietly so his mother wouldn’t hear, “No I’m not. Now go away.”

  “Can I come?” he asked.

  “What?” Chad replied. “Of course not.”

  “Aha!” exclaimed Eryl in victory. “I knew it!”

  “I’m not doing anything,” he insisted in a quiet voice.

  “Then why are you talking so quietly,” countered Eryl. “Why don’t you want mother to hear you?” Then raising his voice loudly, he asked, “Because you’ll get into trouble?”

  “Shhh!” urged Chad as he glanced down the hallway towards the kitchen. When their mother failed to make an appearance, Chad sighed.

  “I’m coming too,” Eryl said. “Or I’ll tell mother.”

  Chad gazed into his eyes and could see the mischievous look that always foreshadowed him doing something that Chad would hate. Little brothers, sisters too for that matter, always have a way to annoy their older siblings. Giving in, Chad said, “Alright. But you have to do what I say.”

  “You bet,” agreed Eryl. Happy and excited now that he wrangled his brother into taking him along on whatever adventure he was planning, Eryl practically danced in anticipation.

  “Just be quiet until we get out of the house,” Chad told him. When he received Eryl’s nod, he began heading back down the hallway. At the entrance to the kitchen, he paused momentarily to make sure his mother was still busy, then he and Eryl hurried past.

  Bart looked questioningly at him when he and Eryl showed up at the barn together. “He’s coming with us,” Chad explained.

  “I don’t think it’s wise to take him all the way to Wardean,” Bart said.

  “Wardean?” Eyes alight with the prospect of going to such a large town, he turned to his brother. “Is that where we’re going?”

  “With just you missing,” Bart said, “your parents would only be a little worried. But him?” Indicating Eryl he added, “They’ll be positively frantic.”

  “If we don’t take him, he’ll tell my mother and then the whole thing would be off,” Chad countered.

  Bart rolled his eyes heavenward. “Sibling blackmail.” Then he turned his attention back to Chad and said, “At least leave them a note or something so they won’t worry.”

  “Alright,” agreed Chad. Getting a fairly smooth board from the scrap pile, he wrote in charcoal:

  Went for a ride with Bart, took Eryl. Back after dark.

  When he showed it to Bart he asked, “Will this do?”

  Nodding, Bart replied. “Yes. But there will still be hell to pay when you get back.”

  “Not if the stone is fixed I won’t,” he said.

  “What’s going on?” asked Eryl.

  Chad turned to his younger brother and said, “I’ll fill you in on the way.” Then he and Bart mounted the horses then Chad gives his brother a hand in swinging up behind him. They rode quickly from the house and entered the hills surrounding Quillim until they intersected the road.

  Once on the road heading out of town they were soon up to a canter and Quillim disappeared behind them. Eryl was having the time of his life riding behind his brother. In all his seven years, the times he had been more than a couple miles from home could be counted on one hand. And to top it off, his parent’s were not with them. All he had to deal with was his brother. Chad, even with all his older brother bossiness, was still a whole lot better to deal with than his mother and father would be. They rarely let him have any fun.

  Chad filled him in on what they planned to do soon after they were on the main road that traveled north and south along the foothills of the Western Mountains. This road was very well maintained and they were able to make good time.

  As the sun arced overhead, Bart knew they were never going to make it to Wardean and back by sundown. Or even remotely close to sundown. But that wasn’t what was on his mind as they drew ever closer to the city of Wardean. His past was a tangled skein, and some of the worst of it had to do with the city they were heading toward.

  Before he came to live in Quillim, he had vowed to himself never to set foot within the walls of Wardean again. Yet here he is, on his way. With any luck, they’ll be able to get in and out without anyone the wiser.

  It was an hour away from sundown when the walls of Wardean came into view. They had pushed their horses hard to try and reach the city before the sun
went down. For that’s when Bart said Phyndyr closed his shop.

  “There she is,” Bart said as they rode closer.

  “Wow,” said Eryl in wonder. He had never been to a city this large. Whenever his father had business here, he always took either Chad or his other brother Tye. “Isn’t this where Tye is seeing about his apprenticeship?”

  “That’s right,” Chad replied. “I wish we had time to visit.”

  “Why don’t we?” his brother asked.

  “Need to return home before mother and father worry too much,” he explained. “We’re already away longer than I had anticipated.”

  “Too bad,” he said.

  Beyond the wall they saw the Keep of the Border Lord where it sat like an indomitable fortress. Wardean is the Seat of Duke Yoric, the Border Lord given the task of keeping the goblins on their side of the mountains.

  Bart took the lead when they reached the gates leading into the city. “Unless there is trouble nearby they keep the gates open throughout the night,” he explained.

  “What kind of trouble could there be?” asked Eryl.

  “Oh, goblins for the most part,” he replied. “Though ever since Duke Yoric became the Border Lord hereabouts, they’ve been fairly quiet. Haven’t been seen on this side of the mountains for years.”

  Once through the gates, Bart led them quickly through the streets. The light was fading fast and if they didn’t get there in time, they risked the unpleasant choice of either staying the night or returning home empty handed. “It isn’t far,” Bart said as they turned off the main thoroughfare and down a side street.

  Half a block down, Bart indicated a two story building coming up on their left. It looked rather formidable, with only slits for windows that were far too narrow for even a small child to squeeze through. The face of the building had but a lone door that stood open. Thick and strong, it would take a lot of punishment before it failed.

  Bart noticed the way they were looking at the building. He cracked a smile and said, “It’s protected by magic too,” he replied. “Only one thief has ever tried to sneak in since it was built.”

  “And what happened to him?” Chad asked.

  “The exact details no one talks about,” he told them. Dismounting, he turned to glance at them and said, “But there’s a skull over the door on the inside that is rumored to belong to the thief.”

  “Really?” asked Eryl.

  “So the story goes,” Bart replied. He wrapped his horse’s reins to the post out front and then waited for the two brothers to dismount and do the same. Then he turned and led them up to the open door.

  Just as they reached the door, a middle aged man appeared from the other side. “Oh I’m sorry,” the man said when he saw them approaching, “but I am closing now. You’ll have to come back in the morning.”

  “Couldn’t you stay open for just a few more minutes?” asked Bart with a grin.

  Phyndyr turned his head towards Bart and was just about to tell him ‘no’ when he stopped. “Well, Bartholomew Agreani, as I live and breathe,” he said in astonishment as a smile came to his face. “I haven’t seen you for over a year.”

  “Good to see you too Phyndyr,” replied Bart. He then indicated Chad and said, “My friend here is in dire need of a scroll to fix a cracked grinding wheel for his father’s mill up in Quillim.”

  “Quillim?” he asked. “Is that where you’ve been?”

  “Sort of,” he replied. “Now, can you help him?”

  “Oh, very well,” he said. Stepping back into the building he allowed Bart, Chad and Eryl to enter. Then he closed the door and locked it. With a single word he caused a dozen candles set about the room to burst into light.

  “Wow,” exclaimed Eryl. “Are you a magic user?”

  Phyndyr smiled at the boy. “Not really, no. I just know a few simple cantrips.”

  They found themselves in an average sized room with three wooden tables, each surrounded by six chairs, spaced evenly around the room. Another door leads from the room across from the one they had just passed through. Eryl turned to look above the front door and saw a human skull mounted there. His eyes widened then he glanced to Bart who just grinned.

  Phyndyr indicated the closest table and said, “Have a seat.” He sat down on one side of the table while the three boys sat on the other. Turning his attention to Chad, he asked, “What exactly do you require?”

  “Last night there was an earthquake,” he explained. “It was pretty bad and when we went to the mill in the morning, we found a crack in the upper grinding wheel. Bart told me you might have a scroll that would repair the crack?”

  Phyndyr nodded. “I have several such scrolls that could possibly help you young man.” He then began asking questions about the size of the wheel, the length of the crack, and so forth. When he finished the questioning, he grew silent for a moment.

  “Can you help him?” Bart asked.

  “I think so,” he replied. “You three stay here,” he told them as he got to his feet.

  They watched him cross the room and pass through the door leading further into the building. “Phyndyr’s pretty nice,” Bart said as they waited.

  “He seems to know you fairly well,” Chad replied questioningly.

  “I’ve known him since I was no older than Eryl,” he explained. “He and my father go way back.”

  Chad looked to him to expand further on the details, but he remained silent.

  Just then, Phyndyr exited from the back with a scroll in his hand. “You’re in luck,” he told them as he came and sat back down at the table. “Usually it takes a day or two to have a specific scroll ready. But seeing as how I am training a new apprentice, I have a few scrolls lying around. He’s been practicing on various different Peasant Scrolls.” He placed the scroll on the table between them.

  “Peasant Scrolls?” asked Eryl.

  Phyndyr smiled and turned to the young boy. “There are three types of scrolls young man, Peasant, Noble, and King,” he explained. “Don’t ask me why they are named that, they just are. Been that way for as long as there has been a Scriber’s Guild.”

  Bart turned to Eryl and said, “Peasant Scrolls are the simplest types of scrolls there are.”

  Phyndyr nodded. “That’s right.”

  “So what does it do?” Chad asked as he looked at the scroll lying on the table before him.

  “It’s quite simple really,” Phyndyr said. He taps the top of the scroll gently. “This scroll is designed to repair cracks in masonry, such as bridges, walls, or anything else made of stone.”

  “How do you use it?” Eryl asked. His eyes were wide and full of wonder at the magic scroll sitting before him.

  Phyndyr turned his attention to Chad and said, “First you place it on top of the cracked grinding wheel then say the word to activate it.”

  “What’s the word?” asked Chad.

  Phyndyr looked at him and smiled. “I can’t tell you the word or it will activate the scroll.”

  “Then how am I to learn what the word is?” he asked.

  “I will tell it to you in two parts,” he explained. “First I will tell you the last half of the word, then I will tell you the first half of the word. When you are ready to activate the scroll, you simply put the two parts together in the correct order and say the word.” He glanced to Chad and asked, “Understand?”

  Chad nodded. “Yes.”

  “Good. The last half of the activation word is, -nyx,” he said.

  “-nyx?” replied Chad, trying to pronounce it just like Phyndyr did.

  “That’s right,” Phyndyr said. “The first half is crit-.”

  “Crit-,” pronounced Chad.

  “Critnyx?” asked Eryl aloud. Suddenly, the scroll before them flared with a yellow glow, it lasted for half a second then went out. As the glow disappeared, the scroll crumbled into dust.

  “Eryl!” cried Chad. “You wasted our scroll!”

  “There, there,” interjected Phyndyr in a calming manner.
“I do have another.”

  Eryl turned towards the others with eyes aglow with excitement. He had activated the scroll. He had done magic! “That was so cool!”

  “Do it again and I’ll leave you here in Wardean,” threatened Chad. Then he looked to the table and noticed that it appeared the same as it had before the scroll was activated. “Nothing happened to the table,” he observed.

  “Of course not,” replied Phyndyr. “The scroll was for stone, not wood.”

  “Oh, right” said Chad. “How much is this going to cost me?”

  Phyndyr put his finger into the dust that once was the scroll as he said, “A gold and three silvers.”

  “For one scroll?” asked Bart. “I didn’t think it would be that much.”

  “The price is for two,” Phyndyr clarified for them as he picked up a pinch of the dust on the table.

  “Very well,” Chad sighed. After giving his brother a stern glare for making him pay for an additional scroll, he pulled out his coin pouch and removed the required coins. Once they were on the table, Phyndyr collected them and then returned to the back for the other scroll.

  Chad turned to his brother while they were waiting for Phyndyr and asked, “I trust we won’t lose another scroll? I don’t have enough for a third.”

  “I promise I won’t say Critnyx,” Eryl assured him.

  “Don’t say that!” exclaimed Bart and Chad at the same time.

  Another minute went by before Phyndyr returned with the scroll. “This is my last one,” he told them. “Be a bit more careful with it than the first one.”

  “Thank you,” Chad said. “We will.” He took the scroll and put it in his tunic for safe keeping. Standing up, he said, “I appreciate you staying and helping us.”

  “Not at all,” Phyndyr replied. “Always glad to help out a friend.” Then to Bart he said, “Don’t be such a stranger. Stop by from time to time.”

  “I will,” Bart assured him. “But we need to be going. It’s a long road home.”

  “Surely you’re not going to ride back to Quillim tonight are you?” he asked.

  “We have no choice,” replied Bart. “They need to get the grinding wheel fixed as soon as possible.”

  “Good luck to you then and safe journey.” Standing up, he walked with them to the door.

  “Thank you again Phyndyr,” Bart said and then they left him at the door. Once out at their horses, they were soon in the saddle and headed down the street towards the gate.

  Phyndyr watched them ride off before he turned and locked the door. When he turned back to the street to head home, he saw a figure detach from the shadows of the building across the street. Once the figure left the shadows, he readily recognized the man. He also understood why the man was crossing the street towards him.

  “Good evening to you,” Phyndyr said as the figure approached.

  “And to you, Master Scriber,” the man replied.

  “My shop is closed,” Phyndyr said. “I am on my way home.”

  “I’m not interested in your scrolls as well you know,” the man told him. “I saw Bartholomew leave your shop?” It was less a question than a statement of fact.

  Phyndyr sighed and nodded.

  “Did he tell you where he was going?” the man asked.

  He gazed at the man and decided whether he should tell him or not. To cross the man before him, or rather the people he represented, wasn’t conducive to a long and happy life. If it were but himself on the line, he wouldn’t have cared. But with a wife and three children at home, he couldn’t afford the trouble such defiance would bring them, even if it meant betraying a friend.

  Then slowly, he nodded.

  “Where did he go?” asked the man.

  It was almost more than he could do to say the word, “Quillim.”

  Chapter Six

  _______________________