next to the two bodies. Bent over Jien, he had his shirt open and was examining a wound. He heard his lord’s approach and glanced back over his shoulder. “My lord,” he said then pointed to an area on Jien’s left shoulder that was blackened, “he was struck by a poisoned dart.” Indicating the man lying next to him, he added. “As was he.”
“A dart?” asked Geffen. Without thinking, his hand went to the sight of where he too had been struck by a dart.
The man nodded.
“Search the area!” commanded Lord Geop. “He couldn’t have gone far.”
“I want the ones responsible for this found and brought to me,” Lord Kueryn exclaimed. As his men erupted into a flurry of activity, he turned back to Geffen. “Can you find them?” he asked.
Reaching into his robes, Geffen produced the dart that had struck him back in Hylith. “If this is the work of the same man,” he replied, “I can find him.” Then casting a spell, the dart rotated in his hand and pointed back toward the southeast. Glancing at his lord, he nodded.
Before Lord Kueryn could order the pursuit, Lord Hurrin came before him and said, “We dare not follow. The attack is soon to be underway and we would never be able to make it through on the eastern side of the mountains. All of Byrdlon will rally to their defense!” Lord Kueryn’s anger radiated like a palpable presence. “We must adhere to the plan my lord.” Praying that reason would win out, Lord Hurrin held his ground.
Many years ago when Lord Kueryn was on the verge of manhood, he had braved the Wrath of Hennon at the height of its fury. He never talked of the experience, other than that he had barely made it through alive.
His small canoe had been smashed to pieces against the rocks and his head had been swept into another, rendering him unconscious. He awoke sometime later in the shallows on the riverbank. If he hadn’t been lying on his back, he surely would have drowned.
Not far from where he had been washed ashore sat a cave. Night was falling and he took shelter there until the following morning when he would return home. It was after he had a fire going that he noticed its light was being reflected by something in the back of the cave. Intrigued, he went and discovered that what had reflected the light, was a single, copper coin. Half buried in dirt, it bore the symbol of the King. Further searching uncovered a total of a dozen of the coins, five copper and seven silver.
It wasn’t until later when he had been named Warlord of the Orack Tribe that he had the wherewithal to return to the cave and do some serious excavation. That was when they discovered the ancient, underground catacomb.
Several items of note had been found, most notably the golden key segment. Though he didn’t know what it was, he knew it was a significant find. The removal of the treasures contained within the catacomb proceeded at a steady pace for awhile.
Then, another room was unearthed that shed light on the golden object. In the room was a mural depicting men standing in front of a sigil inscribed wall. A man in robes stood just before the wall and held forth a golden torc from which emanated beams of light. When the key segment was compared to the torc in the mural, it was concluded that it was indeed part of it.
That’s when the major portion of the excavation began. Everything but the bones of the dead was to be removed and gone through in the hopes of finding the rest of the torc depicted in the mural.
Then not too long ago, rumors began to reach Lord Kueryn’s ear that a major cache of coins had been found. A shepherd and a miller’s son had somehow discovered a large quantity of the King’s coins. Other rumors of the shepherd and miller came saying that they had located the King’s Horde.
It didn’t take long before he came to believe that the sigil inscribed wall depicted in the mural was the entrance to the long lost King’s Horde. Riders were dispatched into Byrdlon to discover if what he had heard was true. None came back with anything definite, just a reiteration of the rumors he already knew.
Now, someone had come and taken the segment of the torc. In his heart he knew it could only be the shepherd and the miller’s son. One piece of information one of the riders brought back inferred that they had the help of a thief and an inexperienced magic user. Their thief must have been the one to infiltrate his camp and make off with it.
Rage threatened to take his reason as he thought again of the theft. Only by a sheer force of will did he master it and not give in to the need for immediate violence. Turning to Lord Hurrin, he nodded. “Yes, continue as we have.”
From the south, a rider came racing toward the camp. Lord Kueryn turned and saw the rider bearing the chest that had been taken. “You found them?” he demanded. Coming forward, he met the rider and took possession of the chest. It was still closed.
“No my lord,” the rider replied as Lord Kueryn removed a key and placed it in the chest’s lock. “Their camp was found deserted a mile to the south.”
Turning the key, he unlocked the chest and opened it. The golden key segment was not within. Rage again enveloped him and he took it out on the chest, smashing it to the ground.
“Lord Hurrin,” the River Man said as he turned to his long time ally. “Send riders after them. I want to know where they go and with whom they speak.”
“As you wish,” Lord Hurrin replied. Soon, four riders were heading south in pursuit. “I believe these are the same people who fled Hylith, and caused so much damage in Tryn.”
Lord Kueryn turned a glaring eye on Lord Hurrin. “You don’t have to tell me that which I already know,” he said. “I want everyone mounted. The sooner we’re at the lake, the sooner we’ll be through the mountains.”
Then, he vowed to himself, we shall find those who stole this and extract our revenge. But not until they divulge all they know about the King’s Horde!
As soon as they had returned from stealing the key segment, Bart opened the chest and removed the key. Riyan was all for reuniting the four segments right then and there but Kevik advised against it.
“We are not certain what effect such an action will have,” he replied. “And with a magic user not more than a mile away…”
“I agree,” Bart said. “We’ll keep this one separated from the others until we reach somewhere less dangerous.” Opening his pack, Bart placed the fourth key segment within. He glanced to Riyan and saw him reluctantly nod in agreement. “Now, let’s get out of here before they discover it’s gone.” Swinging up into the saddle, he turned his horse to the south and rode off.
They continued southward along the river throughout the remainder of the night. When dawn arrived, they took a short break to rest the horses before once again returning to the saddle. Bart pushed them hard as he knew pursuit wouldn’t be far behind. The River Man would never allow such an affront to go unanswered.
When they reached the village later that afternoon, they took the road headed east. From Riyan’s map, they knew it led to Kendruck. From there it would be clear all the way home to Quillim.
Later that afternoon, on the shores of a lake nestled high in the Tinderlock Mountains, smoke rose from a campfire. A single tent sat not far away and the area had the look of having been occupied for several days. One man sat on a log near the campfire, smoking his pipe, while another paced about in growing impatience.
“They should be here by now,” the pacing man stated. Pausing, he glanced again to the south.
“Relax,” the other man said. “They’ll be here when they do.”
The pacing man glared at the other. He hated to wait on people. When he took this job, it was with the clear understanding that he wouldn’t have to be here at the lake for more than two days. It’s now been four. Aside from the cold and lack of comfortable accommodations, his companion wasn’t the most stimulating person when it came to conversation. A mountain trapper hired for his knowledge of the Tinderlock Mountains, Burdy was the one to get them over to the north side with as little difficulty as possible.
Burdy on the other hand could happily sit and wait for days, weeks if necessary. He was in his element. When he was approached about leading a group over the mountains, he had been more than happy to oblige. After all, winter wasn’t the best time for trapping.
Smoking his pipe, Burdy watched as Erz paced. Inwardly he grinned at the man’s discomfort. He had little patience for those in a hurry. When his trained eye noticed riders coming from the south, he was almost disappointed. A couple more days and Erz would have been livid, instead of just annoyed. Oh well, can’t have everything.
“I think you’re friends have arrived,” Burdy told Erz, pointing to the approaching riders.
“What?” exclaimed Erz. Turning toward the direction Burdy indicated, he saw the riders coming. “About
