The Broken Key (02) - Hunter of the Horde (48 page)

It took the couple another ten minutes before they were finished and left the inn. Once they were out the door, Bart waited until Aryn had cleaned up after the couple and carried the dirty dishes through the door into the kitchen. Moving quickly, he was out of his seat and heading for the door leading into the back. The kitchen door being only fifteen feet away from where he was heading, he kept his eyes on it as he crossed the common room.

Bart paused but a moment when he reached the door leading into the back and put an ear to it. Not hearing anything, he opened it a crack and peered to the other side. A hallway extended away.

When he didn’t see anyone he quietly slipped through and closed the door. He no sooner had the door closed then he heard Aryn pass back through the kitchen door into the common room. He listened for a moment to be sure she wasn’t going to come through the door behind which he was standing, then set off down the hallway in search of the old man.

Several feet down from where he stood was a door that led into the kitchen area.

Other doors opened off the hallway further down and it was to those that he moved toward. He had to be quick for he couldn’t afford to be discovered back here.

The first door he came to led into a pantry of sorts. Food stuffs, as well as other items an inn required, were neatly stacked on shelves. Half a dozen barrels also sat upon the floor. Not being what he wanted, Bart continued down. There were three more doors before the hallway ended at a fourth which led outside.

He figured the most likely place for the bedroom to be was one of the end rooms, as that would put as much distance between them and the noise of the common room. That’s where he figured the old man’s wife to still be.

The next door he came upon was cracked open, and muttering could be heard coming from the other side. Bart stepped to it quietly and put an eye to the opening. He saw the old man standing in the middle of the room. The room looked to be a sitting room where they could entertain guests. There were several chairs, a table, and even one long couch.

Two pictures adorned the walls and the room had an elegant appearance.

The old man was facing one wall but didn’t appear to necessarily be looking at it.

From the way he was standing, Bart was able to see the side of his face. He had the look of one caught up in a waking dream. The old man was alone in the room.

With a last glance down the hallway to the door leading into the kitchen, he slowly pushed the door open and entered the room. The old man didn’t react to his entrance, simply kept staring off into space and mumbling to himself. But as soon as Bart closed the door, his head turned toward him.

Bart put on a disarming smile to hopefully put the old man at ease. “Good morning,” he said in as merry a tone as he could muster. The mumblings of the old man ceased and his eyes slowly grew more focused.

“Are you here to help me?” the old man asked.

Bart nodded. “If I can,” he replied.

“My wife’s trying to kill me you know,” said the old man once again.

“So I’ve heard,” Bart said. Moving slowly, he came to stand before the old man.

“I’ve got to get out of here,” the old man told him.

“How can I help you get out?” Bart asked.

“I don’t know,” replied the old man. His mood at this point wasn’t fearful or anxious.

Frankly, Bart wasn’t able to read him like he could others.

“Would you like to go fishing?” Bart asked and could immediately see the old man grow tense. A trace of the fear that he had exhibited earlier at mention of the island resurfaced. Fishing makes him nervous? Perhaps because that’s what he and his friends were doing when all this happened.

“I hear there’s a good spot out near the island,” Bart said.

“No,” he said. “Fish won’t go near the island.” His left hand began to tremble again just as it had when Kevik mentioned the island to him earlier.

“Your wife said you went fishing out there all the time,” he said.

“She’s trying to kill me you know,” the old man said.

“Yes, I know,” replied Bart. He could see the old man was visibly agitated by some memory and he wondered how far he dared push him. “If you didn’t fish there, what did you do?”

“Munn said there was treasure on the island,” he said in a whisper. Fearful eyes flicked to Bart before darting away again. “We went there to hunt for it.” His right hand suddenly grabbed his left in an attempt to still the shaking. “Our wives never knew. They would kill us if they found out we were wasting our time in such a way.”

“Is that why your wife is trying to kill you?” asked Bart.

“She is?” the old man gasped. His fear spiked as he looked around the room for her and it only partly subsided when he failed to see her.

“She’s not here now,” Bart assured him. “I’ll protect you.”

“Who are you?” the old man asked.

“Just someone who wants to help,” Bart replied.

“Good,” the old man said.

They both froze as footsteps were heard in the hallway approaching the door. Two pairs of eyes stared at the door, one in fear and one in anticipation of being caught. They both relaxed when the footsteps continued down the hallway to the rooms in the back. If that was Aryn, she may be going to wake her mother. He didn’t have much time left.

“Did Munn say what treasure there was on the island?” Bart asked.

It took the old man a moment before his eyes left the door and turned back to Bart.

“He was certain that where there were ruins there must be something of value,” he explained. “The rest of us thought he was crazy, but went along anyway.” Bart looked into the man’s eyes and hoped he wasn’t pressing his luck when he asked, “But you did find something, didn’t you?”

The shaking that had been solely in his left hand now began in his right. Sweat broke out on the man’s brow and Bart was afraid he was going to go into some sort of spasm right there in front of him.

“Olyn found it,” the old man gasped. He began rocking back and forth on his heels as a faraway look crept into his eyes. “Three pillars marked the spot, a fourth had fallen nearby. It looked to have been crushed by a giant’s club.”

“What?” asked Bart. “What did he find?” He laid his hand on the old man’s shoulder in an attempt to calm him down. But if the old man noticed the presence of the hand, he didn’t show it.

“Steps,” the old man said. The effort of getting the words out sprayed Bart with foam flecked spittle. “Munn went first, then Olyn.”

Bart gently pushed the old man backwards across the room to a chair sitting a few feet away. When the back of his legs touched the chair, he collapsed into it. The change in position had a slight calming affect upon him. He took a few ragged breaths and then seemed to have settled down a bit. Bart remained quiet, he didn’t want to break the mood the old man was in.

“Egan remained behind as Galt went next,” he explained. The old man held out his hand and Bart took it. “I stayed behind. The thought of going down into that hole was…” He stared down at Bart, but Bart knew he wasn’t looking at him. Rather, he was looking into the hole Munn and the others had entered.

Bart knelt on one knee and waited.

The old man finally got himself under control again, then continued. “Olyn called back up from down in the hole to me and Egan that they had found something,” he said in a shaky voice. The fear that had waned was now growing once again. “Egan went down to see what they had found.” His voice had slowly diminished to a faint whisper. “That’s when…” The old man’s breathing began to come in gasps. “When…Screams…” The shaking in his hands grew more pronounced, his eyes started to roll up in his head and then a god awful scream seemed to be ripped from his throat.

The shock of the unexpected volume unnerved Bart and he froze. He quickly overcame his immobility as he heard footsteps rapidly approaching from down the hallway. Just as another scream came from the old man, Bart let go of his hand. Getting to his feet, he quickly glanced around the room and saw the couch. He dove and hit the floor next to it. The door to the room opened just as he scrambled behind it. From his hiding place behind the couch, he heard the mother and daughter race into the room.

“He’s in another of his fits,” the mother said.

“I’ll get the flask,” the daughter told her mother.

Unable to see what was going on, Bart heard the mother go to the old man and in a gentle, loving voice urged him to calm down.

“It’s okay my dear,” she said to him. “You’re safe.”

“Munn!”

“Hurry!” the mother hollered.

Bart heard Aryn’s footsteps as she returned to her father’s side. “I’ll hold his mouth open,” the mother said.

A second later gurgling gasps could be heard as liquid must have been poured into the old man’s mouth, followed by coughing.

“Father,” Aryn said, fear in her voice. “Everything’s okay.” Whatever they had given him did the trick. In a matter of minutes, the old man had calmed down.

“Help me get him to bed,” the mother said. Then Bart heard them take the old man from the room and began working their way down the hall toward the back.

When he thought they were no longer in the room, he peered around the couch to make sure it was clear, then began moving for the door. On a table beside where the old man had sat stood a flask. Bart paused a moment and picked it up. Bringing it to his nose, he detected the unmistakable odor of ale. If ale made the fit go away, no wonder he was drunk when he and Riyan had seen him last night, could also explain the name of the inn as well. Setting the flask back on the table, he made his way to the door.

He opened the door slowly and poked his head out just far enough so he could see down the hallway. The two women and old man were passing through the door at the end of the hallway on the right. Once they were completely out of the hallway, Bart immediately left the room and ran down to the door leading to the common room. He was able to pass through and close it before being noticed.

On the other side of the door, he paused a minute as he thought about what the old man had said. The place he had described sounded like the way they would need to go.

But what was down there awaiting them that killed four men and drove another mad? He doubted if there would be any more information forthcoming from the old man. With the old man’s words haunting him, he left the inn and went to the docks in search of Riyan and the others.

It took him a half hour of searching before he found the others. He went to the docks where a dozen vessels of varying sizes were still moored. Seven were too small to adequately carry their group, three were merchantmen that plied their trade between the towns along the lake’s coastline, which left two rather large fishing boats as the most likely candidates.

The crew of one of the fishing boats was loading supplies for what looked like an extended trip, the other held no crew whatsoever. Bart took the time to go to the deserted ship’s side and gave it a once over, but failed to find anyone. When he turned away from the ship to resume his search, that’s when he heard the commotion which led him to the others.

What drew his attention at first was the sound of shattering glass, quickly followed by shouting. His gaze was drawn to the front of one of the dockside taverns where two men suddenly appeared as they stumbled through the front door. An older man had hold of a man half his age. From the way the older man threw the younger onto the ground, it looked like he was getting the best of him. Other people boiled out from the tavern’s door as the younger man regained his feet and began to fight back. He was surprised to discover Chad was the younger man.

In the group coming from the tavern were Riyan, Chyfe, and the twins. Kevik emerged from the tavern just as Bart reached the rear of the group who were beginning to form a circle around the combatants. Using his elbows rather expertly, he pushed bystanders out of his way until he reached the inner circle of onlookers.

The man Chad was fighting was a good ten years his senior, and by the way he was pummeling Chad, Bart could tell he was no stranger to brawls. An angry red bump was forming on the side of Chad’s head and it didn’t look as if he was completely coherent.

Not far from where Bart emerged from the throng of onlookers, Riyan stood watching his friend being pummeled by the stranger. Seth and Soth were watching the combatants with glee, every now and then calling out encouragement. Seth seemed to be rooting for the stranger.

The man connected with a solid blow to the side of Chad’s head which knocked him sprawling. When he hit the ground, Chad tried to get back up but the man wouldn’t let him. He moved forward quickly and kicked him hard in the side.

Bart couldn’t understand why the others weren’t aiding their friend, but he wasn’t about to stand by while Chad got kicked while he was down. “Enough!” he yelled as he stepped away from the onlookers and moved to Chad’s side.

The man paused in the midst of another kick and glanced toward Bart. “This ain’t none of your concern,” he said.

“You just kicked a friend of mine when he was unable to defend himself,” Bart said.

He glanced over to Riyan then back to the man. “I’m making this my concern.” Riyan reached Bart’s side just as the man pointed to Chad and said, “He dishonored my wife.”

Bart raised his eyebrows at that. If such was the case, then he could very well see Riyan refusing to interfere. He would have viewed it as Chad getting what he deserved.

Glancing down to his friend on the ground, he heard him groan. “I think he’s learned his lesson,” Bart said.

“Apologize Chad,” Riyan said.

The eye on the side of the head with the large knot was partially closed as he looked up at Riyan and Bart. “I didn’t do anything!” he shouted back, flecks of bloody spittle went flying from where his lip was bleeding. Groaning, he sat up and raised a hand to inspect the bump. He winced from pain when his fingers touched it.

About ready to kick Chad again, the man was stopped by Bart placing a hand on his arm. “He’s had enough,” Bart cautioned. Something in his eyes told the man it might not be a good idea to follow through with the blow.