When the soldiers drew near, they slowed then came to a stop. One rider with red hair and a scar across the bridge of his nose continued forward. A captain by the insignia he wore, he came to within two yards of Lord Kueryn before stopping.
“I was getting worried my lord,” Captain Lyrun said.
“There’s been a change in plans,” Lord Kueryn replied.
Chapter Thirty-Two
In an inn some miles south of Wardean, seven men took their ease in the common room. The Twin Oaks wasn’t what one would call a fashionable establishment or even above average, but for a roadside inn it was adequate. The lone girl who saw to their needs was quite the chatterbox. Any little comment set her off.
At the moment, she was regaling the men with local gossip as she occupied what had been an empty chair at their table. “…given the number of people who have spoken of the King’s Horde having been found, I’d say it was true. Though of course I haven’t actually seen it myself, being stuck here…er, I mean, having the privilege of serving such wonderful gentlemen as yourselves.”
“You said there were troubles in Quillim?” asked Riyan. They had heard disquieting rumors from different people during the last couple days, and he was quite concerned about his mother, Freya, and all the other people he grew up with.
“Troubles?” she asked. “I heard that all manner of men have been drawn to the area, most being those who you wouldn’t want to run into on a dark night let me tell you. But since Duke Alric sent soldiers to the area, things have quieted down. In fact, though I don’t know because I haven’t actually been there, or anywhere else for that matter, I even heard that before the Duke’s men arrived, several of the buildings, including the mill, had been destroyed.”
“The mill?” asked Chad, fear for his family naked on his face.
The girl, intent on her own conversation as she was, was oblivious to the effect her words had on her listeners. “Supposedly,” she replied. “Of course, having to stay here as I do, with no possibility of ever seeing more than…uh, interesting travelers such as yourselves, I wouldn’t know for sure.”
“Wenda!” the proprietress of the inn and mother of the girl, hollered. Having just emerged from the kitchen area, she was glaring at where her daughter was sitting instead of being about the business of the inn.
Wenda glanced over her shoulder at the disapproving stare of her mother. “I better be about my work gentlemen,” she said. Sighing, she came to her feet. “If you’ll excuse me,” she said then crossed the common room and disappeared into the kitchen.
“I’m sure your family is alright,” Riyan assured Chad.
“This is all my fault,” he said. Emotions began getting the better of him as a tear appeared in his eye. “First I ruin the grinding wheels, now the mill is gone.” Turning to Riyan he asked, “What will my parents live on with the mill gone?”
“Enough of that!” interjected Bart. Once Chad turned to look at him, he continued. “This is no more your fault than mine. There are many bad people in the world, I should know.” Then lowering his voice so none of the other patrons could hear, he added, “Once we open the Horde, their worries will be over.”
Chad brightened a bit at hearing that, and nodded. “I just hope they’re alright,” he finally said.
“So do I,” agreed Bart. “Wonder how old Rebecca is doing?” She was the elderly widow woman whom he had helped out with odd jobs before they left in search of the key segments.
Riyan smiled at that. “Most likely as ornery as ever,” he replied.
Bart laughed, “You got that right.”
“So your home is only a day away?” asked Chyfe.
“Yes,” replied Riyan. “We should arrive sometime tomorrow night.”
“Ah,” said Chyfe. “Then what are you planning to do once we get there?”
“What do you mean?” Riyan asked.
“What I mean,” he explained, “is that by this time your whole village will have heard the rumors regarding the Horde.” He glanced from Riyan to Bart, then Chad, then back to Riyan. “Should you three ride in, things could get a little crazy.”
Bart nodded. “I see what you mean.”
“I know you want to find out about your families first,” Seth said, joining the conversation. “See if they’re okay. But if we want to keep the location of the Horde secret and to ourselves…”
“…then we can’t very well walk in, announcing our return to everyone,” finished Bart.
“Exactly,” agreed Seth.
“Once the location of the Horde becomes general knowledge, there’s no telling what will become of it,” added Soth.
Each remembered the way the River Man and his people had desecrated the dead in the underground complex near the Wrath of Hennon. None wished the same fate to be visited upon the King and all the rest entombed with him. The secret of its location must remain hidden at all costs.
“Didn’t you say the only way to your town was across a bridge?” asked Kevik.
“For the most part, yes,” replied Chad. “But when the river runs low, there’s a ford west of where the river meets the road, several miles south of the bridge. Why?”
“It would stand to reason that your home town and the area leading to it will be watched by others like Durik,” he explained. “Since no one knew where you three have been, it’s likely they would gravitate to where you’d be certain to return.”
“I’m sure your manor in Gilbeth will likewise be under surveillance,” stated Seth.
Kevik nodded. “Most likely,” he agreed.
Chad turned to Bart. “What are we to do?” he asked. “I have to find out if my family is alive or not!” His last few words were a bit louder than he intended and nearby patrons turned their attention toward him.
“Settle down,” cautioned Bart. As the patrons recognized nothing was about to occur, they returned to their previous discussions.
“Then what are we to do?” Chad asked again.
Turning to Riyan, Bart asked, “This ford, will it be usable now?”
Shrugging, Riyan said, “Maybe, depends on how high the river is running.”
“Let’s assume that it is,” Soth said.
Bart nodded. “If it is, we cross there and head into the woods,” he explained. “Then with the coming of night, we sneak into town and find out what’s what.”
“After our fears are put to rest,” said Riyan, “we go for the Horde.”
“And you get Freya, Chad helps out his family, and the rest of us live very well for the rest of our lives,” concluded Bart. Lifting his mug, he said, “A toast.” As six other mugs rose from the table, he said, “To life, and fortune!”
The next morning dawned sunny and clear. A warmer than average day, it whispered of the arrival of spring. It seemed incredible that they had been gone the better part of a year. So much had happened since Riyan rescued Black Face and discovered the underground complex they called The Crypt.
After leaving the inn, they took the road north for less than half a mile before heading cross country. As Bart was well known in Wardean, they decided to bypass the city in order to avoid encountering anyone that might recognize him. Once they reached the road north of Wardean, they returned to it and continued on their way. Bart felt regret at not passing through the city of his youth, but their prize was too close now to satisfy personal longing and risk detection.
For the better part of a day they kept to the road. Whenever others would be seen approaching, Riyan, Bart, and Chad pulled the hoods of their cloaks close to shield their faces until they were past. Fortunately, none gave them more than a causal glance.
Around mid-afternoon, the first trees of the forest in which Quillim resided appeared. “It isn’t much further,” Riyan announced to the others. He and Chad now rode at the fore since they knew this area better than any of the others. Once the road entered the fringe of the forest, Riyan led them from the road and headed through the trees. From there it was another half hour before they reached the river.