After giving his mother some excuse about needing to run an errand for Bart, Riyan and Chad saddled the horse and were soon underway. Each wore their pack which contained the treasure they took from The Crypt. Bart had suggested they wrap the coins in cloth so they wouldn’t jingle and give away their presence.
Before they left Quillim and headed to Wardean, they made a stop at Old Glia’s to return the bottles as she had requested. When she learned of their impending journey to Wardean, she asked them if they could pick up a few things for her at the apothecary where she buys some of her ingredients.
Riyan said they would and they waited while she prepared a list. “Just give this to Gyman,” she told them as she handed Riyan the list. Then she explained where to find his shop. She also handed him the two small gems that she had taken for the potions which saved Bart’s life. “This should cover the cost. You two can split whatever is left over for your trouble.”
“Thank you Glia,” Riyan said.
She eyed the packs they were wearing and how their bottoms bulged out some. But what thoughts she may have been thinking she kept to herself.
They left her hut and headed cross country toward the road leading south to Wardean. The route they took bypassed Quillim in order to avoid encountering anyone.
On the way to Wardean, Riyan came to the conclusion that what they had taken from The Crypt wouldn’t be enough for him to change the mind of Freya’s father. He had forgotten to ask his mother how things were going as far as her engagement with Rupert. He hoped that the date for their marriage would be sometime next year. Thoughts such as these haunted him along every mile of the road to Wardean.
Riyan’s mother helped Bart from the bed and to the table when it came time for the noon meal. He had slept throughout the morning, having fallen asleep not long after Chad and Riyan left for Wardean.
Now he sat at the table while Riyan’s mother filled a bowl with a light stew that was more broth than anything substantial. He looked at it for a second after she placed it before him and then glanced to her.
“Eat it,” she said. “It will help you get your strength back.”
Knowing better than to argue with a woman when she thinks she’s doing something for your own good, he took up his spoon and began slurping broth. He continued to eat the stew for several minutes in silence, neither one doing much in the way of engaging the other in conversation.
Finally, Riyan’s mother said, “A stranger arrived in town about the time you, Riyan, and Chad went camping.” She paused a moment as she glanced to him. When no response was forthcoming, she continued. “He was asking around about you.” She glanced to him again and saw that the spoon was poised just before his mouth, motionless. The look that came over him could only be considered one of dread.
He held that position for a couple seconds before resuming to eat the soup. “Oh?” he asked.
“He claimed that he was your friend,” she told him. “He’s been wandering around town ever since.”
Trying not to appear unnerved by what she was telling him, he asked, “What does this man look like?”
“Oh, he’s of average height,” she replied. “Dark hair with brown eyes. Seemed to have an air of confidence about him according to what Laerin said.”
He continued eating while he assimilated the information. The fact that the man had appeared in town the day after he and Chad went to Wardean couldn’t be dismissed as a coincidence. Someone must have seen him while he was there and tracked him back to Quillim.
A worried look came over him as he glanced to Riyan’s mother. Anyone near him now was in great danger. “Have you mentioned to anyone that we returned last night?” he asked.
She shook her head negatively. “I haven’t been further than the pen outside to feed the sheep,” she replied.
“It might be better to not let anyone know that we have returned,” he said. “Especially that I am staying here.”
She turned a grim look to him. “I knew you were trouble,” she said. “Usually Riyan has good judgment when it comes to people, but why he chose to be friends with you I have never figured out.”
“If you feel that way about me,” he said, a touch of hurt entering his voice, “why are you taking care of me?”
“Because Riyan cares about you,” she replied. “I’m doing it for him.”
He finished his stew and she began ladling him another bowlful. “I’ll leave as soon as I am able,” he assured her.
“Oh stop,” she stated. “I’ve never turned away a person in need before and I’m not about to now.” When his bowl was again full, she sat back down and continued eating her portion of the stew.
Bart ate quickly and finished the stew. When she offered him a third bowl he turned her down, saying that he was tired and needed rest. He allowed her to assist him back to the room and into bed. He laid there calmly until she left the room and closed the door.
No sooner was the door shut than he swung his legs back over the side of the bed facing the closet. He had to get to his pack. If the man searching for him was a member of a certain group as he feared, then it would only be a matter of time before they tracked him here to Riyan’s place.
Riyan’s staff was leaning against the wall close to the bed and he was able to get a hold of it. Using it as a crutch, he crossed the short space to the closet. Leaning heavily on the staff, he opened the door and then worked to reach his pack that was hidden in the back.
He stretched in order to reach it and overextended himself. Losing his balance, he fell to the floor of the closet and the staff hit the floor with a clatter. He froze there on the floor, listening for the approaching footsteps of Riyan’s mother as she came to see what the noise was. To his relief, no such footsteps developed.
Crawling now, he reached his pack and opened it. He pulled out one of the rolled pieces of leather nestled inside and tried to toss it over onto the bed. It didn’t quite make it all the way and landed on the floor next to it. He closed the pack again and worked his way out of the closet, cursing his weakened condition the entire time.
Once the closet door was closed, he managed to return the staff back to its original position propped against the wall. Then he crawled over to where the rolled leather had landed, picked it up and set it on the bed. After that, he gripped the side of the bed and pulled himself back up onto it.
After he made it up, he had to lay there for several minutes before his limbs would stop trembling. The exertion of going to the closet and back had used up what strength he had left. It took awhile, but when his muscles finally calmed down he untied the thong securing the rolled leather pack. Then he unrolled it and revealed a dozen, four inch darts. Three small vials filled with a dark liquid were secured in line with the darts.
Over the next hour, he worked most carefully to remove each dart, dip it in the liquid, then return it to its place in the leather pack. Once he was finished with applying the liquid to all the darts, he replaced the small vials back in their places. Leaving two of the darts out, he rolled the pack back up and laid it on the bed next to him. He then placed the two darts he left out on top of it.
By the time he was finished, his muscles were again complaining. He laid his head back on the pillow and prayed that they would not find him here. Glancing at the darts lying atop the rolled leather pack, he at least was ready should they come for him.
“I think we’re too late to do anything tonight,” Riyan announced. They were still on the road and the sun had gone down an hour ago.
“Best if we find an inn and conduct our business in the morning,” offered Chad.
“I don’t know if we have enough coins for a room.” Riyan knew that all he had brought was the treasure on his back. He should have anticipated that they might not reach Wardean before nightfall.
“I have three coppers,” Chad told him after checking his pouch.
“Great,” moaned Riyan. “Food or a room, and a cheap room at that.”
“We always have the
gems,” suggested Chad. “Perhaps we could trade one for a room?”
“Worth a try.”
Two hours later the lights of Wardean appeared out of the dark ahead of them. Riyan sighed with relief, he had been worried about bandits the whole way here. True, Wardean was the seat of the Border Lord. But at night? Well, you just never know.
The walls approached quickly and they were soon passing through the gate. As they passed through, Riyan asked one of the guards about an inn that was nice but not too dear. The guard told them the Silent Shepherd would be suitable and gave them directions.
“Silent Shepherd,” mused Riyan with a grin. “I like the name.”
Chad gave out with a chuckle and said, “I thought you might.”
Following the directions the guard had given them, they soon rode up to a modest two story building. Out front was a sign depicting a shepherd sleeping on a hill while his flock was down below grazing.
Inside they found a middle aged woman coming down the stair from the second floor. When she saw them entering, she came forward and greeted them.
“Welcome to the Silent Shepherd gentlemen,” she said with a smile. “How can we be of service to you?”
“My friend and I would like a room for the night,” Riyan explained.
“One with two beds if that’s possible,” interjected Chad.
“Absolutely,” she assured him with a smile. She indicated for them to follow her as she led them over to a counter where they were to check in. Once there, she immediately went behind the counter and then turned to face them.
“It will be seven coppers for the night,” she said.
Riyan nodded then set his pack on the floor. After a few moments rummaging through its contents, he removed one of the smaller gems. “I’m afraid we’re a bit short on coins,” he explained. Then he showed her the gem. “Would this be sufficient for a room, dinner, and breakfast in the morning?”
She took the gem and examined it. When she was finished, she turned back to them with a smile and nodded. “It will be acceptable.”
Riyan and Chad both sighed with relief. “Thank you,” he said.
Removing a key from under the counter, she handed it to Riyan telling them that their room was upstairs, third door on the left.
“Thank you,” Chad said.
“I hope you enjoy your stay here,” she wished.
“I’m sure we will,” Riyan assured here.
Turning from the counter, they headed for the stairs and once on the second floor, found their room. It had two beds as Chad had requested. He immediately went and laid on the one furthest from the door. “This is the life,” he said with a satisfied smile.
Riyan set his pack on the floor by the head of his bed and then sat down. “Comfy.”
“Let’s go downstairs and get something to eat,” Chad said as he sat back up. “I’m starved.”
“Alright,” agreed Riyan. When Chad was heading for the door without his pack, Riyan said, “I don’t think we should leave our packs up here unguarded.”
“May be right there,” nodded Chad. He returned for his then they went down to the common room to see about getting a meal. Both were feeling quite good about everything. Off on their own and independent, what a heady feeling.
Over the course of the day, his strength had gradually returned. For dinner Riyan’s mother had cooked a much more substantial meal than the thin stew she fed him for lunch. He had worried that whoever the man was that was in town would make an appearance, but so far nothing.
Riyan’s mother had stayed near the house all day, only venturing out to take care of the sheep from time to time. The boy that Riyan had paid to take the sheep out while he had been ‘camping’ wasn’t able to do it today. His father needed him for some chore or another.
Every time she left the house, she looked for any sign that someone was nearby. Even now, sitting at the table, she continued to glance out the windows. Bart felt bad that his presence was causing problems, but there was nothing he could do about it now. He did come to the decision that when Riyan and Chad returned with his share of the coins, that he was going to leave Quillim. It was no longer safe for him here.
Once he finished eating, he thanked her for the meal and returned to bed. He still needed to lean on Riyan’s staff to get there, but at least he no longer had to bother her with helping him.
Sometime after the sun went down the sheep outside began stirring. Not like they were alarmed by the presence of a predator or anything, just making noises. Bart didn’t think too much about it, for to him the sheep always seemed to be making noise of one kind or another.
He was almost asleep when the bedroom door opened and Riyan’s mother poked her head in. The worried look on her face gave him cause for concern. “There’s someone out there,” she whispered.
His concern flared into full blown alarm at her words. Glancing to the bedroom window, all he could see was blackness. Turning back to her he asked, “Are you sure?” She nodded silently.
“Blow out that candle,” he said to her quietly. When she blew it out, the room was plunged into darkness and at the window next to the bed was the moon shrouded silhouette of a man looking in.
“Get to your room and bar the door!” Bart yelled as the man broke the window.
Riyan’s mother screamed and fled down the hall.
As Bart rolled off the bed away from the window, he grabbed the leather pack and the two darts lying on top. He hit the floor just as the man was passing through the broken frame.
“Bartholomew Agreani,” the man said as he came fully into the room. A glint of light flashed off the weapon the man held in his hand. “The time has come.” In the darkness, Bart could see the man move around the bed on his way to where he was laying.
Bart took one of his darts and threw it. The dart flew true and struck the man in the shoulder. Pain caused the man to cry out as he pulled it from his flesh. “Don’t make this any harder than it has to be,” the man told him.
Then the man cried out again as another dart struck him in the chest. “I’m going to enjoy this,” he cried as he came forward and raised his sword.
Bart kicked out and took the man in the leg. It didn’t break anything but it did cause him to stumble backwards a step.
“Now…” the man said then paused a moment. He shook his head as if to clear it before he raised his sword again. “Now…it’s…” Unable to continue, the man dropped to one knee and the sword fell from his grip.
Bart sat up and scooted back against the wall, all the while keeping an eye on the man before him. Placing his back firmly against the wall, he braced himself and began working his way up to a standing position. By the time he was erect, the man had completely collapsed to the floor. Removing another of the darts from the leather pack, he made his way to the hall.
The silence in the house was absolute. He listened for any indication that another intruder was present, but aside from the normal noise of the sheep, there was only silence.
He worked his way down to the front room and then over to the door leading into Riyan’s mother’s room. The house was dark. When he reached the door, he tapped upon it. “Kaitlyn,” he said softly, “it’s Bart.”
There wasn’t an immediate answer so he knocked one more time. “It’s me, Bart. Everything’s alright.”
Then from the other side he heard the bar being lifted and the door started to open. “He’s gone?” she asked once the door was opened a crack.
“No,” replied Bart, “but he won’t be bothering us again.”
“Did you kill him?” she asked.
“Yes.”
She opened the door fully. “Are there any others?”
“I haven’t seen anyone,” he said. “He may have been working alone.”
He stepped aside as she passed into the front room. She was but a shadow as she made her way through the house to the room where the man lay.
She picked up the candle again and was about to light it when Bart
told her it might not be a good idea. “He could have had someone working with him,” he explained. “They do that sometimes.”
Placing the unlit candle back on the table, she turned her head back toward him and asked, “Who are ‘they’?”
“I’m pretty sure he came from Wardean,” he said.
Moving into the hall, she asked, “What do they want with you?”
“I was on the wrong side in a power struggle you might say,” he explained. “I and others have been marked for death. I understand there’s a reward offered for my demise.”
“I see,” she said. Entering the room, she glanced over to the shattered window through which the man made his entrance. Bart followed her and had one of his darts clutched in his hand in the event of another attack.
She moved around the bed to where the man lay sprawled out across the floor. In the dark he was nothing but a vague shadow. With her foot she nudged him to see if he would respond. When he didn’t, she bent down and turned him over onto his back. After a brief examination she turned towards Bart and said, “He’s dead.”
Bart didn’t answer, just stood there while she gazed up at him. She finally stood up when he failed to answer. “How are we to find out if there’s another person out there?”
“I’ll go check,” he replied. “Stay in your room.”
“You can barely walk,” she stated.
“I can walk well enough for this,” he said. Then with the staff in hand, he left the room and headed for the front door. Once there, he cracked it open slightly and gazed out. No shadows moved in the moonlight. The sheep were behaving normally which was a good sign.
He opened the door and slipped out. For several minutes he did a circuit around the home until he was sure there was no one else out there. Then returning back into the house, he informed Riyan’s mother that the man had come alone.
“Is it safe for us to have light now?” she asked.
“Yes, I think so.”
She lit the candle on the table, then picked up a second and lit it from the flame of the first. “Here,” she said as she offered him the second candle.
“Thanks,” he told her as he took the candle. “We better get the man outside and hidden before someone comes looking for him. If they find out that he was killed in this house, you and Riyan will be marked for death as well.”
A grim expression came over her as she turned her face towards him. He could tell that her opinion of him was getting worse by the minute. But she nodded and between them, they managed to drag the dead man out of the house and into the hills. She returned to the house for a shovel and then began digging a grave in a copse of trees. Before they put his body into the grave, Bart removed everything from the man’s pockets and anything else of value he had including the scabbard for the sword still laying on the bedroom floor.
It was some time before the work was completed and they returned to the house. “I’m sorry I brought this trouble to your door,” he said once they were back inside and sitting at the table. Laid out upon the table before him were the items he liberated from the man’s pockets.
She didn’t respond, just gave him a meaningful look.
“I don’t think he would have told anyone what he was doing before he came here,” he said. “He wouldn’t have wanted to take the chance on anyone else beating him to the reward.”
“How much is the reward?” she asked.
“I’m not exactly sure,” he admitted. “But I would hazard a guess it’s more than a thousand golds.”
Her eyes widened at the figure. “That is quite a sum,” she said. He only nodded in reply. They sat there while he went through the items laid out before him, but there was nothing that indicated who the man was.
Finally she asked him, “How did you manage to kill him?”
“Poisoned dart,” he replied. “When you told me someone was in town looking for me, I prepared some just in case. Turned out to be most fortuitous.”
“Yes, it did,” she agreed. Then she stood up abruptly. “I’m going to bed.”
“Hope you sleep well,” he told her.
She paused there a moment before saying, “You too.”
He sat there at the table thinking over the ramifications of the man showing up here. Could he have told someone where he was going? And if so, would there be other attacks? Bart wasn’t sure. The only thing he did know for certain was that he needed to leave before trouble came calling again.
Chapter Twelve
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