'We have no Key to Hell,' Meredith said. She then turned to the prince. 'We don't, do we? Surely we'd have more than a dozen knights guarding such a thing.'
'All we guard is the border,' Prince Estephan said. 'That key is not here.'
'Actually,' Pantros said, pausing while he dug the gem from a holdout pocket inside his pants, 'it is.' He held the key out beside the illusion.
Sheillene took the onyx from Pantros' hand and put it in her pouch. 'Trolls can't tell one human from another. They probably were only told to attack any humans and bring the stone back if they found it.'
'You could track the trolls back to whomever they met,' Pantros said. 'We could end this long before Vehlos.'
Sheillene shook her head. 'Sure,' she said, 'We could find whoever sent the trolls, but we know we'd either find a demon or someone who can control demons. They didn't use the trolls for their brute muscle; they were just spreading a larger net. We need to get that Key to a person capable of protecting it.'
Estephan held up a hand toward Sheillene while smoothing his mustache with the other. 'You're saying that monsters like these trolls could be marauding everywhere and they'd be looking for that gem or Key?'
'Well, I think they know roughly where Pantros or the Key is,' Sheillene said. 'I just suspect the trolls were not as easy to steer towards us as a well trained hellhound.'
'Nine of our peers are dead because of a single fancy rock?' Meredith asked.
'Key to Hell is not just a fancy name,' Pantros said. 'This can open a door to Hell, releasing all the demons there into our world.'
'Why do you have that?' Estephan asked.
Pantros wasn't sure how to answer. He pocketed the gem then shrugged. 'I'd really rather not,' he said. 'Someone gave me a large amount of gold to take it from someone else. Now I'm stuck with it until I can find someone who can protect it better than I.'
Estephan cleared his throat. 'As Prince of Relarch, I'm obligated to offer to try to protect the stone for you, but, I don't suspect myself or my kingdom are well enough prepared for the threats we'd see if we possessed that particular stone. The Archmage of Vehlos is certainly a better choice. I will offer you protection to the edge of my kingdom. I insist.'
'We're already riding to Fork with you,' Pantros said. 'How much farther does your kingdom go?'
'Fork is the on the western border where the Starshone and Evenflow rivers meet. The road west from there will take you through Melnith to Vehlos. I'll have to check in and report in Fork regarding the deaths of so many of my brethren, but if you like I'd offer my services, as a favor, from our border to the gates to Archmage's tower.'
Pantros didn't like having so many people around him. As much as they offered more protection, they could just as likely be additional corpses in his wake. He didn't want to offend the prince, though, so he replied, 'That's a noble offer, thank you, your highness.' Estephan seemed satisfied with the response. Pan wondered if maybe Fork were close enough to Vehlos for him to go that last leg of the journey alone.
Being from a port city, Pantros understood the distances between the major ports of the world. He'd seen the maps, and knew how far Gyptania, Rahvenna and Everton were in terms of sailing days. Vehlos was close to an ocean, he knew, but Fork was nowhere near an ocean.
CHAPTER 11: CHARLES
The roadside sign said that Fork was west and Southbridge was south and Westen was east. There was no sign pointing to the north road, where Charles and Heather had come from.
“Fork then?” Charles asked.
“I don’t think so,” Heather said. “Too many people too close together, I’d hate to get angry in that big of a city.”
They didn’t really need to resupply. In the week they’d been on the road, they’d found work each evening as either smiths or tinkers. Gus had given Charles a hammer and a tinker’s anvil as well as a pack to carry them in. The work they’d found along the way had gotten them plenty of salted food and dried fruit for the road and a small amount of coin. Charles now wore his sword sheathed across his back and Heather wore a red leather apron around her waist. Their clothes fit, as did their spare clothes, though both were in need of washing.
“Southbridge it is,” Charles headed along the road to the south with Heather at his side.
A few miles down the road a covered wagon pulled alongside and slowed. “You two look like you’ve a long road ahead of you and your feet could use a rest.”
The man was older than Charles by enough that his hair was graying at the temples. He wore light leather armor, which was not uncommon among men who traveled regularly. The carriage was painted in a splattering of colors. The lines of the paint were neat and straight, but the colors were varied and looked like they were either chosen at random or chosen deliberately to disturb anyone’s aesthetic senses.
“I am Jonah of the Wandering Rose,” the man on the wagon said. “Where are you headed?”
“Melnith,” Heather said.
Charles nodded.
“I’m not going all the way there, but I can give your feet a rest for a day or two,” Jonah said. We’re camped two days walk west of the river.”
“How far is that from here?” Charles asked.
“Five days on foot, two on my wagon,” Jonah said. “I travel this road regularly so I know all the best places to stop for lunch and for a good clean bed.”
“Do you always stop and offer people rides?” Heather asked.
“Just often enough to have someone to talk to on the long ride,” Jonah said. “You two look like you’ve got quite a story.”
“Maybe we do,” Charles said. “If it’s all the same, I’d rather not share that story today.”
“Then hop on,” Jonah said. “I’ll play the role of story teller.”
“I don’t want to walk anymore,” Heather said.
Charles shrugged, the man did have a sword strapped to the driver’s bench, but he was still only one man. He didn’t seem like a threat. “Okay,” he said. He helped Heather onto the wagon then climbed on himself.
“Welcome aboard,” Jonah said. “I promised a story, so here goes. This is a story I taught Thomas Boncanta himself. It’s the story of a woman I once met who changed history with her sword. Let me tell you the tale of Legend of Phyre.”
CHAPTER 12: TARA
The man holding her hand wasn’t the man she’d married, but Tara couldn’t convince herself that was true. He felt like the same person, he had the same way of thinking, of speaking and the same humors. His touches felt the same as she remembered.
This Thomas even had the air of worldliness to him, though he’d never been beyond the village of Stonewall before; he’d absorbed every bit of knowledge of the world from anyone who would talk about it. In the two days they’d been riding in the carriage and the two days prior, he’d talked endlessly with the Knights. He probably knew more about Relarch than any of the native Knights did simply because he’d gleaned every little bit of each individuals knowledge.
And Tara got to hear all about it when the Knights couldn’t take any more questions.
Relarch was one of two human nations on the continent of Teminev. It claimed all the land east of the Evenflow river as far south as the Great Bay and as Far East as the ocean, including the village of Stonewall, but not Ignea. To the north, Relarch ended at the mountains and the borders with the Vulak Tribal lands. That border was less defined and varied depending on the success of Vulak Raids or Relarchian expansion. The Vulak rarely organized in large enough numbers to siege a Human Fort, and the Humans didn’t really want the land for more
