The bard, p.3
The Bard, page 3
“Do you think we have made it to the keep?” Seth whispered to Ria.
“Yes,” she quietly replied. “Why are we whispering?”
“Good question. We should get moving,” Vitkin said gruffly.
Patrick was the first through the door and, looking left and right, he realised he was in a long corridor. Sunlight poured through large glass windows, eradicating the need for torches. Doors could be seen in both directions. “Which way?” he asked when Tor arrived at his side.
“I have no idea. I suggest we split up. Explore every room and meet back here. Nobody is to go anywhere on their own.”
Patrick turned to his left and proceeded towards the first door on the left of the corridor. Without waiting to see who was following him, he tried the handle. It turned and he walked in.
“I wish he would take some precautions,” Tor complained as he watched his old friend disregard his instructions.
“We both know that is never going to happen,” Ellen informed him before heading after Patrick. She entered what appeared to be a bedroom. The mouldy remains of a rug lay in front of part of a four poster bed. A family of mice had made a nest in the rotting mattress. There was no sign of Patrick, but noise coming from the direction of the only other door in the room indicated where he had gone. He soon returned, announcing that it probably used to be a dressing room, but was now empty. There was nothing worth investigating in the bedroom, so they returned to the corridor and headed towards the next door.
Tor headed to his right and, along with Cirren, opened the first door he came to. He suspected that this too used to be a bedroom, though there was nothing inside to confirm his theory.
Ria wandered over to one of the windows in the corridor, rubbed it with her sleeve and peered out. Through the grime that remained on the window pane, she could make out that the building completely surrounded an extremely overgrown garden. From the outside, it looked like the two groups would meet up half way round, but she could not be certain of this, so the plans were not changed.
One by one, each of the doors on both sides of the corridor were opened and the rooms investigated. None produced anything worth reporting on, so the two groups proceeded round the corners and lost sight of each other.
“Remember, we meet back here,” Tor called out as the last person on the left disappeared from view.
“How long has this place been deserted I wonder?” Ellen mused as she and Patrick entered yet another bedroom.
“More importantly, why was it left to fall to ruin? Remind me to ask the villagers when we return.”
“Speaking of which, have you given any thought as to how we are going to get back? I do not think we will be able to climb up that slide.”
Patrick regarded her thoughtfully. Trust her to have already cast her mind forward to the practicalities of the return journey. He was fairly confident that none of the others would even have realised that they had a problem yet; they would all be too busy concentrating on finding something to indicate that not only were they in the right place, but also what they were supposed to do next.
“We can always walk through the valley back to civilisation,” he assured her. “After all, the only reason we went to the watch-tower first was to save time.” Ellen groaned. The walk through the valley would be a lot easier than the mountainous route they had taken to the watch-tower, but she already had blisters on her feet and did not relish the thought of having to walk back the long way.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a shout from Seth. He and Dal had followed her along the left of the corridor and had been investigating the next door along. “We have found stairs,” Dal said excitedly when Ellen and Patrick joined them. Without waiting for permission, he started up them, immediately followed by Seth. The sound of their footsteps soon died as they came to a halt. “It looks like there used to be another floor up here,” Seth’s voice floated down to them, “but it seems to have been completely destroyed. I can see the remains of the outside walls, but not much else. Dal wants to investigate further. What do you think?”
“No,” Ellen and Patrick called out together. “If the walls are decaying, the floor may be as well. It is too dangerous to walk on it.”
“Too late,” Seth called down. The creak of the ceiling above told them all they needed to know. The impetuous young man had decided to go exploring anyway. Patrick was still swearing under his breath when a loud crash silenced him. He and Ellen spun round in time to see Dal fall through a hole in the ceiling and land hard on the floor with a loud cry. Patrick recommenced his swearing as he ran over to the inert body on the ground. Ellen beat him to it and examined Dal’s unconscious form. Seth came running down the stairs and Patrick had to tackle him to the ground to prevent him running into the young witch.
“Nothing seems to be broken,” she informed them as she raised Dal’s eyelids to examine his eyes. She then slapped his face and called his name loudly. When he started to respond, Patrick released the still struggling Seth, who ran to his friend’s side.
“You really are an idiot,” he said with relief when Dal gave him a lopsided grin.
“He is going to have a headache for a while, but I think there will be no permanent damage,” she assured him before addressing her patient. “Let that be a lesson to you. Always proceed with caution.” Dal nodded his head, then winced, making Patrick chuckle.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the building, the search was continuing in vain. “There is absolutely nothing here,” Vitkin complained, after exiting yet another bedroom. “How many rooms did this Dathos need?” The building they were in was known as Dathos’s Keep, after the man who had it built.
“I think I have found the kitchen,” Nosmas called out from nearby. Ria followed him through the door he had just opened and let out a loud whistle.
“I have never seen so many ovens in my life,” she exclaimed, stunned by the size of the room, one wall of which was completely lined with them. Along another side was a row of neatly stacked cooking pots, each one large enough to cook a whole sheep in.
“Never mind that, this door leads into the garden,” Nosmas told her. She relayed the message to the three Princes, then followed him into the fresh air. “There appears to be a small building partly hidden by those bushes,” he said, pointing to their left. By the time they had reached the doorway, Tor, Cirren and Vitkin had joined them. Nosmas tried the door, but it was locked.
“Cirren, go find the others,” Tor instructed, turning towards his youngest brother. “I think we have found the right place.”
Cirren soon returned, with Ellen, Patrick and Seth in tow. Dal was between the two men, an arm across each one's shoulders as they helped him to walk.
“What happened to him?” Tor enquired.
“He fell through the roof,” Patrick replied, his tone demonstrating exactly what he thought of Dal’s impetuousness.
Seth started to defend his friend, but Tor held up his hands. “I do not want to know. Just drop him on the ground over there and help us with this door.”
Try as they might, the men were unable to get the door open. They tried pulling. They tried pushing. They even tried hacking at it with their swords, but nothing seemed to have any effect. Ellen eventually grew bored with watching their antics and, sighing dramatically, pushed them all aside. She said a quick spell, blew gently on the door and it swung open. “Easy,” she said smugly as she looked inside.
The small building consisted of just one room, mostly taken up with a large table. Unlike the rest of the keep, this room appeared to have been perfectly preserved, with no sign of damage or ruin anywhere. The table, covered in candlesticks and other ornaments, showed no trace of dust.
“What is it?” Ria asked as she stepped across the threshold.
Nosmas was examining the table closely. “It appears to be some sort of altar.”
“Well the clue did say ‘burn me as an offering’,” Ellen reminded him. “Is there a better place to do it?” Without waiting for a reply, she carefully removed the lomas flower, which she had picked in Queen Tibia’s garden, from where she had secreted it in her clothing and placed it in a wooden bowl set on the table.
“Shall we?” Tor asked his brothers. Everyone else stepped back from the altar as Vitkin and Cirren approached. At a nod from Tor, Nosmas incanted a spell and flames appeared in the bowl, igniting the flower. Blue smoke rose into the air, creating a nauseating smell. Those closest began to gag.
Instead of drifting upwards as expected, the suffocating blue smoke created by the burning flower began to move downwards, seeping into a crack near the base of the altar. Suddenly the room was filled with a loud explosion, throwing everyone to the ground. As the smoke cleared, they pulled themselves to their feet, some of them coughing.
“Is everyone alright?” Tor called out.
“What was that?” Seth asked, when nobody had replied in the negative. “Did we have the wrong flower?” He threw an accusatory glance at Ellen, which she ignored.
Cirren, who was closest to the altar, was the first to notice that the crack through which the smoke had escaped was now larger, revealing a panel. Pushing carefully, he slid it sideways and glanced inside. “There are three parchments in here,” he called out, his hand automatically reaching out to take hold of one.
“Do not touch any of them,” a voice shouted at him from somewhere in the room, making him freeze where he stood, arm still outstretched.
“Sorry,” he said. “I was not thinking.” He slowly withdrew his arm and stepped away from the altar. Tor and Vitkin walked up to him, positioning themselves on either side, and knelt down.
“On the count of three, we take the one in the middle,” Tor instructed. “One. Two. Three.” As he spoke the last word, all three brothers reached forwards and simultaneously took hold of the parchment, withdrawing it from its hiding place. “Will someone please take this and read it out,” Tor requested.
Ria nimbly leapt forward, taking hold of the parchment before he could change his mind, and read out the words in a clear voice.
Congratulations, you completed your task
You found the flower, what more could I ask?
That clue was easy, now it gets hard
Go to Kavern and seek the Bard
Tell him a story he has never heard
But He, She and I are forbidden words
One more thing before I say goodbye
To complete the task, a friend must die
Chapter 3
“Wonderful” Seth said sarcastically. “Why does each clue seem to want to cause more and more harm to us? A previous one wanted one of us to go through agony, now this one talks about one of us dying.”
“That will not be a problem,” Patrick reminded him. “I am getting quite good at it. After all, I have had a lot of practice.”
“Good point.”
“So what now?” Ellen asked.
“We head back to the village and pick up the others. Then we go to Kavern.”
“I was afraid you were going to say that,” Patrick said, wincing. “I think there is a price on my head there still.”
“Why am I not surprised?” Tor responded. “Maybe you should remain close to the border instead of crossing over into the city. We can pick you up on our way back.”
“Not unless you want one of us to volunteer to die,” Seth pointed out. “I think Patrick will probably need to be there for that part.”
Tor sighed in frustration. “Now I know why you hired thugs instead of travelling with friends,” he muttered to Vitkin, who grinned back at him. “We should start heading back. We can discuss Patrick’s issues while we travel.”
“How exactly do you plan on getting back to the village?” Ellen enquired. “I would like to point out that none of us have the ability to fly up the chute we slid down and we do not have enough food or water to make it back through the valley.”
“I spotted a well just outside,” Ria volunteered. “Hopefully it is still working.”
“And there should be plenty of game in the valley. Between us we will be able to catch enough to keep us alive.”
“Do you not think the others will start to get worried about us after a few days?” Ellen was desperately hoping that someone would think of an alternative to traipsing the entire length of the valley.
“I have an idea,” Nosmas said, grinning broadly at her. “My father taught me a spell just before we had that fight with Vitkin and his men. I never got a chance to try it out for myself and I am curious to know if it really works.”
“Great.” Ellen said enthusiastically. “How exactly will it get us out of here?”
Her face fell when he responded. “It will not. Hopefully it will enable me to enchant a bird to fly to Sam and tell her everything she needs to know.”
“In that case, I need some time to create a soothing lotion for my feet.”
The well was still in working order and the water the bucket brought up was cool and refreshing. It was decided that while the two women replenished everyone’s water containers, the men would go on a hunting expedition. Ellen described to Seth the various herbs she would need for a foot salve and he assured her he would bring back everything he could find. By the time the men returned, dragging a large wild boar behind them, Ria and Ellen had all of the water containers filled and had managed to light one of the fire pits in the kitchen. A small cooking pot had been found, in which water was bubbling, eagerly awaiting the healing herbs.
“I managed to find everything except the ones with the white flowers,” Seth said, handing over a large bunch of various sized leaves, each a different shade of green.
“I can make a decent enough balm without it. Thank you.” Ellen took the greenery, inspecting it closely before tearing up some of the leaves and dropping them into the boiling water. She then began to sing softly, watching the mixture intently as it began to change from light green to dark blue, before settling for deep purple. After a few minutes her singing ceased and she smiled, apparently satisfied with the result. Raising her head, she spotted Dal and beckoned him over to her. “Keep stirring this gently,” she instructed the young man. “Make sure it does not stick to the bottom and call me when it has the consistency of thick porridge.” He nodded his understanding, taking a wooden spoon from her hand and placing it in the pot.
When Ellen looked over to the other men she swore loudly. “What am I supposed to do with that?” she yelled, spying the dead boar on the floor by their feet.
“Calm down,” Seth said soothingly. “Tor and Vitkin will have another fire pit burning soon and Nosmas has already got the spit set up.”
“I found salt,” Ria called out from where she had been investigating the kitchen cupboards. She sniffed at the jar in her hand. “It smells alright. Does salt go bad?”
“If it is not stored properly it can,” Seth informed her as he walked towards her. “It seems fine to me,” he said, taking a look into the jar she had open. He then proceeded to see what other spices he could find.
Seeing that dinner preparation was well in hand, Ellen returned her attention to her own cooking. Once it was the correct consistency, she moved the pot away from the fire to cool.
Seth failed to find anything to rub on the skin of the roasting pig, so they ate it plain. Tor collected all of the innards together in a pot, ready to feed them to Samson. As he looked around for the hungry wolf, his eyes fell on Nosmas, who was watching him intently. Tor gave an embarrassed cough then took the bowl into the garden and began to dig a small pit in which to bury the contents.
They talked while they ate, deciding that they would spend the night in the shelter the keep provided, then head out early in the morning. Over half of the boar remained, so it was cut into smaller pieces and rubbed with the salt. After the meal, Ellen announced that the salve was ready if anyone wanted some. Everyone’s hand went up so she spent the next hour massaging it into numerous feet, while singing a healing charm. By the morning, not only would all blisters be gone, but their feet should be protected from being inflicted with more during the long walk back to the village.
Before settling down for the night, the conversation inevitably turned to the latest clue. It clearly stated where they had to go, but nobody had any idea who the Bard was that it referred to. Vitkin’s suggestion of visiting St Cuthberts nunnery was immediately rejected by Tor. When questioned as to his reasons, he simply stated that it was not a place that he would wish to visit with anyone, let alone with impressionable young minds.
This statement, however, had exactly the opposite effect to the one he was aiming for. Realising whom Tor was talking about, Dal immediately declared his desire to go there. It was Seth who dragged him aside and, out of the hearing of the others, did his utmost to talk some sense into him. It was not long before they rejoined their friends, the look of frustration on Seth’s face demonstrating his lack of success. Tor raised a questioning eyebrow at him.
“He states that, seeing as none of us really knows what goes on there, the quest should not be delayed simply on rumour and superstition,” he said in a disgruntled voice. “He will not listen to reason.”
“I wonder where he gets that from,” Ria murmured under her breath. Seth scowled at her in response.
“He does have a point,” Vitkin interjected.
“It is a bit more than rumour and superstition. I have never witnessed any of the ceremonies myself, but I have met enough men who have. Either they were all accomplished actors or something went on that absolutely terrified them.”
Other options were thrown into the debate. Returning yet again to King Allias and his library was the safest option, but it would greatly delay them as they would be heading in the wrong direction. There was also the issue of the dragon that had forced the skelk to relocate. Crossing the mountains to the skelk’s old home would not greatly inconvenience the party as they would either have to cross or go around them to get to their required destination. Going back to Vada would mean they would postpone helping out Yafen and his people, which Tor was loath to do, or crossing the mountains three times.
