The Baldari (Book 3) (32 page)

For the third or fourth time, Fen tried to bring his attention back to the words that showed on the surface of the reader.  He was finding it exceedingly difficult to focus on the task at hand, but he’d finally seen enough to know the text he had been working through was not going to contain anything of much use.  The historians would be delighted with the contents.  They had found any number of similar books.  Unfortunately, those that contained insights into the old magic were few, and even those had revealed mostly mundane spells.  They had new ways of doing certain things, some of which would be useful, but nothing that was going to be of much help in defending the kingdoms from the attacks that were surely coming.  Fen felt the pressure of time and need, but there was little they could do but systematically work through the items that had been recovered.

His mind shifted away from his reading once again.  The news about Ash’urn had come as a complete shock.  The elderly scholar had always seemed so alive, and had endured so long that Fen had considered him indestructible.  True, over the past few months, even Fen had noted the changes in Ash’urn, but for some reason Fen had expected the effects of whatever was bothering him would pass.  Even given his reduced stamina, Ash’urn had worked through more materials than any of the other researchers assigned here.

There were two teams working toward a common goal.  Ash’urn had led the group from the Three Kingdoms, and despite his age, Fen had been placed in charge of the team from Sedfair.  Professor Meyter had been a little miffed at that, but Lyes had been adamant, and none of the other members were put off.  Fen was a bit of a legend by now.  He was the youngest Caster ever to have been formally granted the staff.  His participation in the elimination of the Chulls was well known, and the fact he was one of the very first to have visited the Three Kingdoms, and had been raised to the staff there as well, made him a bit of a celebrity.  No one doubted his abilities, and all knew he was looked upon with favor by the wizards at the Outpost.  All knew of the place, but only a couple had been fortunate enough to make the trip and visit there.

Fen wished he could go and visit the elder scholar and see for himself that he was healing, but Nycoh had told him they were keeping him sedated to improve the rate at which he healed.  She had promised to come and let him know when Ash’urn was improved enough to have other visitors.  Until then, he would have to be patient, and try and not let the accident distract him from the important task of working through the items that had been forwarded for review.

Fen slipped the text out of the reader, wrote a brief description summary of what the book contained and slipped the sheet of paper in place inside the cover.  Then he placed the book on the right-hand side of the reader where it would be picked up and sorted based on his summary.  He turned to the left, and smiled when he saw the small monitor that had been brought for him to have a look at.  The large monitors were simply too big to be inserted inside the readers, but this one would just fit.  Fen wondered if he might be able to extract enough information from the glyphs on the back to determine how the device could be activated.  Nycoh and Jeen had told him of the power of the devices, and if they could somehow be used to spy upon their enemies, he would have finally accomplished something useful.

Thus far the only real gain was an increased facility with the old language.  He and several of the others were starting to recognize a number of the words even without the reader, and wandering around the large area of the repository with the thousands of scrolls and books, he was able to pick out a word or two through the protective barriers.  He knew what they needed was there, locked away behind the shields.

Multiple attempts had been made to get help from the Caretakers, but with no luck.  Since the Caretakers spoke only the language of the Three Kingdoms, all dealings with them had to be performed by the wizards.  As a Caster, even Fen was still only marginally capable in the language.  From the discussions Fen had participated in, the Caretakers were very aware that a team was within the Repository, but they were unwilling or unable to enter themselves, and they claimed to have no idea how to grant access to the items that were protected.  Supposedly that was something the builders of the facility had intended any visitors to work out for themselves.

There was much about the Repository that was disconcerting.  Even after a careful study of the place, no one, not even Nycoh, had been able to discover another way into the facility.  Only by traveling into the Ruins to the artifact they had activated, were they able to gain entry to the place.  That bothered Fen as well as others.  It was a single path, and should something happen to it, they would be cut off.  It was also unprotected, and it might only be a matter of time before the enemy discovered the
Waygate
.  Then they could enter the repository themselves, or destroy all access to the place.  Each time anyone visited the
Waygate
, the
Doorway
to the location in the Ruins had to be masked, in hopes of keeping the place secret.  Fen didn’t believe the masking would be as effective as some thought, and that was one reason he felt the pressure of time weighing down on them.

Lyes had been an infrequent visitor.  During one of his visits he confided in Fen that he found the illusion surrounding the Repository disturbing.  He couldn’t be more specific than that, but even after careful examination of the lake and the hidden area where the Repository existed, Lyes was uncomfortable.  Something wasn’t right, but he was unable to determine exactly what it might be.  Lyes concerns, added to his own, made Fen fear that their time to unlock the secrets they needed might be shorter than expected.  Now there was also the news that a major attack was brewing in the Three Kingdoms. The team from Sulen had brought the news this morning. 

The Repository scholars had found a link to the Brryn, and everyone was now convinced they were real and the recovered wizard Koess knew what he was talking about.  The name had come up, although without a vocal representation to go with it, and they had initially thought it was a place.  It wasn’t until someone from the Three Kingdoms came with the name and asked for the teams to pay attention for any references to it that the connection was made.  They were said to be powerful sorcerers, with far more capability with magic than either Casters or wizards.  Fen couldn’t help but wonder if they had made this place, and they might be trespassing in the private facilities of the very enemy they sought to defeat.

His mind bursting with distractions and questions, Fen fit the monitor unit into the reader, then carefully activated the screen to see what he might learn.  He hoped Nycoh would return before the end of the shift with news that he could go and see Ash’urn.

If a man needed killing, it was best to simply get it done straight-away with the minimum of fuss.  That had been Kaler’s belief for many years before he had met Daria.  It was the code he had followed for some time.  Sometimes the man might be an enemy soldier, someone unknown but who stood for the opposite view and who stood in the way of one’s King and his orders.  In those cases the need to kill was defined by politics rather than any specific action on the part of the man who opposed you.  Sometimes a man was criminal or depraved in such a way that he was a danger to others, and society in general.  In other instances an individual might be a direct threat to those one loved and protected.

Kaler’s eyes lifted from the campfire and looked across the short flat to where the man hung by his wrists from the rope firmly tied to the branch of the Morken tree.  The man hung without moving anything more than his head.  He looked up at the thin rope that held him suspended, and then looked down below his feet.  The man’s fright and discomfort were obvious.  He was careful to move slowly least his motions cause undue stress on the thin branch.  Kaler wasn’t entirely comfortable with what they were doing, but he understood the reasons, and in a sense, the necessity of the action they were taking.  The man deserved to die, and Kaler was anxious to give him what he deserved, but Daria had chosen the way the man would leave this life.  When Kaler considered what the man had done, and considered how he would feel had the man done those things to Daria, he was better able to accept the reasons for the approach chosen.

Their travels since leaving the Orphanage had been disappointing, and disheartening.  A few days after leaving they had arrived at the village where the first of the men the bandit chief had revealed as purchasers of the girls taken from the Wanderer caravan lived.  It hadn’t taken long to locate the man, and watch him carefully.  They had easily learned that he had a wandering eye, and more than one servant had complained of unwanted advances from the man.  But he had money, and the ear of the local politicians, and nothing ever came of the complaints. 

It was obvious early on that he no longer had the young girl with him.  Apparently he had arrived back in town without her, riding his wagon and escorted by his bodyguards.  Daria and Kaler had watched the house and listened in on the conversations between the guards as they made their rounds at night.  Several brief exchanges between the guards hinted what had become of the lost girl.  One night Daria had slipped past the few men the man employed to guard his fine house, past the handful of servants who were still moving quietly around the quarters making sure everything was in place for the master, and into the bedroom of the suspect.  There a controlled discussion was pursued, during which Daria had learned what had taken place.  The man had apparently enjoyed his purchase during the journey home, something he did on an annual basis, and as they approached the village where he lived, he had slit her throat and tossed the body down one of the mountain ravines.  He was wise enough to know having a kidnap victim where she might be discovered was unwise, even given his special arrangements.

Daria had attempted to coax the location of the body out of the frightened man, but he had paid little attention, not considering it important, and could provide only vague directions.  It was unlikely they would be able to find the spot, and given the number of predators in the nearby hills, the body was probably gone anyway.  Given their need to move on in pursuit of the last of the three girls, there was little to be done.  Daria had left the man, his own neck cut, along with a note describing his crimes, and the vengeance of the
KalaBhoot
that would befall any others who were guilty of similar crimes.

When Daria had retired from actively pursuing such animals, the re-emergence of magic and the presence of wizards throughout the land had cut down on such activities.  Unfortunately, as the years passed and the wizards became too busy with other matters, and the depraved became more comfortable with the limitations of even the gifted, perverted crimes appeared to be on the rise once again.  She did not relish the thought of returning to her earlier life style, yet something must be done to discourage such activities.

A morose Daria had made the
Doorway
that took them a dozen day’s ride to the north, where they were able to pick up the trail of the wandering salesman who supposedly had purchased the last of the young women.  Two of the captured women were dead, and while Daria had eliminated their killers, Kaler knew she’d had hopes of finding a couple of them still alive.  Discovering the careless killing and disposal of Ileet, had soured her, and he knew she feared they would be too late for Voni, the last of the missing girls.

Unlike the previous rapist they had dealt with, the man they now sought had no fixed home, and traveled in his wagon over vast territories to pursue his business.  Even Daria’s ability to make
Doorways
was unable to speed their travel.  Without a knowledge of the area, she had nothing to draw upon to create the magical portals.  It took a number of days for them to establish a route and close the gap between hunter and hunted.  Unfortunately, once again their arrival was not in time to help Voni.  She had been found just that morning, bound, gagged, and broken, having been tossed off the side of the sheer cliffs on the south edge of the village.  It was a small village, and one without a mayor or lawman, and no one was prepared to embark on a journey into the hills in an attempt to discover who had done this deed.  It would take more than a day to reach the summit from which the young woman had been thrown.  No strangers had been seen in days, the man Daria and Kaler sought having purposely bypassed the village.  Nor had the dead girl been seen before.  Men checked their swords and carried them more openly, and doors would be bolted securely for some weeks, but that was all they could do.

Daria and Kaler had examined the body, and the telltale signs of systematic abuse were present under the more glaring damage of the fall from the mountaintop.  There was little doubt that Voni had had a hard time of it since being taken from the Wanderer wagons, and had been alive when she was thrown off the mountain.  The cold fury in Daria’s eyes would have chilled the man’s bones had he been there to observe it.

They had left shortly after examining the body, Daria making a
Doorway
to a spot far up the mountain that was visible from the village below.  Once there, she made a second
Doorway
that took them to a spot above where the body had been found.  It took less than a glass to discover the wagon prints that pointed them in the direction to be followed.

Moving swiftly, using
Doorways
to close the gap where possible, they caught up with the traveling wagon, late in the afternoon.  They could see it making its way across a wide meadow, heading for a pass ahead that would take it back down to the wide valley below.  The large black dog that ran alongside, hurrying ahead and then circling back around was unusual.  Not many people had dogs, nor appreciated their usefulness.  Daria had sometimes had issues with the beasts in her former profession.  They would have to plan accordingly.  Dogs were loyal, and the fact the man had one, suggested it would attack someone if ordered it to do so.

Daria had made a portal that took them a short distance ahead, on the edge of the trees where the man was headed.  She and Kaler were walking out of the trees coming the opposite direction as the rickety wagon bounced into view.  The fact they were coming from the opposite direction, put aside any suspicions the man might have had on seeing them.  The dog had been the first to spot them, and had started barking to warn its owner of the unexpected travelers.  As they walked slowly towards the approaching wagon, Daria examined the man driving.  The description was consistent with that the bandit leader had revealed to her, and equally important the wagon was clearly the right one, with the distinctively colored paintings on the aging wood of the sides.

“Halo, strangers,” the man said as they approached.  “What brings you through these parts?”  He was a ragged specimen.  His long brown hair was stringy and matted, and his face bore a white scar that crossed his face from near the right ear, across his nose, and part way down the left cheek.  He wore oddly shaped blue earrings in both ears, and a necklace of similar stones that hung over the dirty gray shirt that might have once been white.

Kaler told him a story about their traveling to a village several days away to visit relatives.

“You have chosen to walk.  Couldn’t you arrange for a horse?” the man asked. 

“I don’t like long rides,” Daria said.  “I get sore.  I’m used to walking.”

“I see,” the man said, noting the sword on Kaler’s hip and the bows they carried.  “Perhaps you would appreciate a drink?  I have some cool cider here in the wagon.”

So saying, he reached back behind the seat for something in the wagon.  There was cider in the back, but more importantly he wanted his movements to mask his readying the special little knife he had taken out of his pocket when he’d seen them approach.  He had two of the special weapons, especially made for him by an expert weapons crafter several years ago after he’d seen them demonstrated in a bar fight far from here.  They had cost a princely sum, but had proven their worth before.  The second knife was in his coat pocket, charged and ready just as the one he now held hidden in his hand.  They were perfect for someone like himself.  He had no desire to get close enough to be struck by someone else, and had wanted a weapon that could act from a distance of several paces. 

The knife was designed to hold a special round-shafted blade that was captured against a stout spring.  One could depress the blade into place against the spring by pressing the point into any nearby handy piece of wood.  He had used the side of the wagon.  He had been carrying both charged and ready since eliminating the girl the other night.  He couldn’t be sure if someone might come looking into what had happened to her.  While he hoped to be able to talk his way out of any inquiry, one never knew.

The blade could be launched from the base of the weapon by pressing the appropriate stud on the side, after first releasing the safety mechanism.  He did that as he readied the blade, his hands shaking a little with fright.  The blade would launch accurately over a number of paces, assuredly a greater distance than now separated him from the two strangers.  It struck with a great deal of force, more than one would suspect.  He hoped to take the large man out of action.  Between the dog, who he would command to attack as he prepared to fire the weapon, and the unsuspecting weapon, the man should be rendered temporarily harmless.  That would leave him time to deal with the woman.  She had a bow, but it remained over her shoulder, and by the time she realized something was happening, it would be too late for her.  Perhaps she would be a better traveling companion than the one he’d disposed of.

As he turned slowly around, his cheerful banter continuing to distract the strangers, he barked a sharp command at the dog.  The beast, which had been acting merely curious up to now, suddenly turned vicious and made a run at Kaler.  As the dog snarled and leaped, the traveling salesman turned more quickly around and raised his arm to point the knife at Kaler.  He had only half completed his turn toward them with the weapon when one of Daria’s blades spun through the air, imbedding itself in his hand causing him to drop the weapon as he screamed in pain.  He heard the dog yelp with similar distress.  He looked aghast at the blade passing through his hand, and when he looked up, he found Kaler’s blade at his throat.  His dog lay on the ground broken and unmoving.

A brief discussion, Daria could be quite persuasive after all, resulted in the story coming out.  Perhaps the man thought it might save his life and that Daria and Kaler would take him to the authorities.  He didn’t know yet whom he was dealing with.  During the discussion he had revealed exactly how he had killed Voni.  He had also let slip that he had used the cliffs because he felt that would be the most terrifying way for her to die.  He was very annoyed with the constant reluctance she had shown to submitting to his demands.  Since he was deathly afraid of heights, he assumed they would have a similar effect on her.  He had tied her as he had because he wanted to be certain she would have no chance of reaching out or grabbing him when he pushed her toward the edge.  In fact, he had used the short axe handle in the wagon to push her off the ledge, just to be certain he maintained some distance from the drop off.  He had been shaking with nervousness when he had stepped back after watching her fall away.  Kaler had tied his hands, while Daria made a
Doorway
back to the cliffs where Voni had died.  They had taken his wagon, and returned to the spot where he had killed the young girl.

It was actually a very beautiful spot.  The deserted mountain pass opened along the cliffs to the valley far below.  In the distance, perhaps three day’s ride away was a large lake, the pale blue standing out against the green of the valley.  Gray rock mountains rose on either side.  A large river flowed from the lake, and wound its way toward their location, passing through the small village that Daria and Kaler had visited earlier in the day.  The mountains were mostly covered with conifer trees, but here in the more rocky locations, the rugged morken had won out, their tough roots finding purchase in the rocky ground, some of them right at the end of the cliff, their strong branches extending out over the precipitous drop.

The branch that Daria tied the man to was not one of the thick strong ones.  She had chosen one of the smaller, offshoot branches, that were springy with a considerably smaller diameter than the main branch.  She had bound the man securely, added a band of rough cloth over his mouth – she’d heard all she needed from him – and then tied him from the thin branch with a hand-span of tough rope so that he was hanging out over the drop to the valley below.  It was nearly three thousand paces to the ground here.  It was impossible for the man to climb up to the branch, and in fact, any motions he made only encouraged the weakened branch from cracking, and most likely breaking, sending him to his death.