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As Tor, Patrick, Ellen, Ria, Bellak, Ban, Seth and Torrick rode away Molly could not get rid of a feeling of foreboding that had taken hold of her since she had first awoken that morning. Though Tor had promised that he would take care of himself she could not help feeling that something was going to go wrong.
She was almost tripped up by a blur of grey streaking past her. Samson had overslept and had to run fast to catch up with them.
“I wondered whether you were going to make it,” Seth said to the wolf as he jumped into the wagon, which was loaded with food, water, Seth’s cooking gear and spare weapons. It would also be handy for returning with a dead body, should the need arise, but Tor had declined to mention that to Molly when she had enquired the need to take the wagon with them.
It had rained heavily the night before and the roadway was muddy. Seth suspected this to be the reason for the wolf choosing to ride instead of run; he didn’t want to get his paws dirty. When he made the comment, however, the wolf had such a look of indignation on his face that he could even suggest such a thing that Seth could not help laughing.
They stopped for a break midmorning to give the horses a rest, then pressed on. When they stopped again at midday Tor informed them that they were still a few hours away from the hall, so they kept the break as short as possible.
A while later they had to leave the road and follow a dirt track, which soon disintegrated into nothing more than a part of the field which lacked grass.
While the horses had no problem trotting along the boggy ground the donkey began to struggle. The wheels of the wagon were sinking deeper and deeper into the mud making it harder to pull. Seth kicked Samson out, but it did not make much difference.
Then the inevitable happened and it stuck fast. The poor donkey pulled with all of its might, but it could not move it.
“Tor,” Seth called out. “We have a problem.”
It was immediately obvious what the problem was and Tor asked for suggestions.
“My horse is the strongest,” Torrick pointed out. “Why not unhook the donkey and attach my warhorse. I am sure he will have no trouble.”
Tor looked dubious, but went with the suggestion anyway. “It might take a while so I think the rest of us should go on ahead.” He instructed everyone to take some of the extra weapons out of the wagon as well as some of the water.
Tor noticed that Patrick collected his bow and quiver of arrows and placed them on his back.
“What do you need those for?” he asked. They were not going to be gone long enough to need to hunt anything, hopefully, and if they came across anyone and fighting broke out, close range weapons would be needed, not long.
“You never know,” Patrick replied. “I would much rather be over armed than missing the right weapon when it is needed.”
Leaving Seth, Grimmel and Torrick behind, they mounted their horses and continued on toward the hall.
As they rode Tor steered his horse toward Ellen. “I do not want you to enter the hall when we get there,” he told her. “I understand why you insisted on coming along, but I would be a lot happier if you stayed outside. I am sure I can talk Patrick into staying and guarding you.”
Patrick overheard the conversation. “No. I have to go in. I have to retrieve the clue, remember.”
“That was never agreed on,” Tor reminded him.
“You do not have to agree. I will be the one entering the spider’s lair. End of discussion.”
Tor knew it would be pointless to argue. If Patrick wanted to risk permanently losing his eyesight there was nothing Tor would be able to do to talk him out of it. “Alright, I will speak to Ban.”
The tayman was not happy about the suggestion, but understood Tor’s reasons, so he agreed to guard Ellen instead of watching Tor’s back. He did, after all, have Ria and Patrick for that and there was no reason to suspect that there would be any danger. Other than the arachnid, of course.
The hall was in sight when they arrived at a clearing and Ellen stopped her horse. “This seems like as good a place as any. I will set up camp here and wait with the horses.”
Everyone dismounted and instructed their steeds not to wander far. A chicken suddenly ran in front of her, startling her.
“What is a chicken doing here?” Patrick asked.
“Molly mentioned that there is a lot of them running wild in this area,” Tor told him. Then he smiled at Ellen. “Any chance you can get some cooking while you wait for us?”
“If someone can catch them for me.”
Tor looked at Ban and he nodded. He had already agreed to remain behind to guard Ellen and was not above chasing a few feathered creatures around.
Hearing the word ‘chicken’ Samson lay down in the grass. Given the option of going into an abandoned hall or staying where the food was the wolf knew exactly where his priorities lay.
“We should get going,” Bellak stated, looking up at the sky. “I want to get this next clue before it gets dark.”
He started walking toward the house, Patrick, Ria and Tor following behind. “Good luck,” Ellen called out and watched them until they were out of sight.
As the four got closer to the building they realised they were not alone. A group of men were in front of them, heading in the same direction.
Tor and Patrick instinctively reached for their swords while Ria started to play with the handle of one of her knives. From the back they looked like what they probably were; hired thugs.
Hearing movement behind, one of them turned around. Tor did not recognise him, but he did the man he then spoke to.
“Gallad,” Tor said quietly.
“What do you want to do?” Patrick asked. Things had not gone well the last time they had met with one of Tor’s brothers and he hoped there would not be a repeat performance.
“Wait here. I will go and talk with him,” Tor commanded and was pleased to see that Gallad was walking toward him, alone.
“Gallad,” Tor said in an unemotional voice. While he was glad to see that his brother was still in the quest his mind could not help going back to what happened with Vitkin. He looked him up and down, assessing him.
Gallad looked tired. Usually clean shaven, he had let a beard grow and his hair was now long and scraggly. He had also lost weight. Though a year younger than Tor, he now seemed so much older.
“You look well Tor,” Gallad replied.
“I wish I could say the same about you. Are you eating properly?”
Gallad rolled his eyes. “Stop playing the big brother. I am fine.”
Tor looked over Gallad’s head at the group of men standing behind him. “Friends of yours?”
“A necessary evil. I knew that this quest would be dangerous so I decided to hire men used to perilous situations instead of leading my friends into danger. I see you made a different choice.”
Gallad recognised Patrick and Bellak, but not Ria. “Who is she?” he asked, nodding toward her.
“Someone I picked up on the journey.” Tor was not in the mood for introductions.
“So what do we do now?” Gallad asked, forcing himself to take his eyes off Ria. “You are the first of our brothers I have met on this quest so far.”
Tor wished he could say the same. “We should work together,” he suggested, but Gallad shook his head.
“You know we cannot do that. For all we know there is only one clue left.”
“Then let us not work against each other. You and your men can take the front and we will take the back.”
Again Gallad shook his head. “We will take the back.”
Tor shrugged his shoulders. He did not really have any preference. If his brother wanted the back, that was fine with him, especially as he had been in the building before and knew there was a grand staircase in the entrance hall. He doubted it would be the correct set of stairs, but it was a starting place.
He watched as Gallad returned to his men and instructed them to split up as soon as they entered the hall. They all knew what they were looking for and the first one to find it should grab the clue and meet at a prearranged point. Gallad did not give details as to where this was as he knew Tor was listening.
Before moving off Gallad emphasised that under no circumstances were any of the group to attack anyone from Tor’s team, but Tor put no faith in the statement. Gallad could easily counteract that command as soon as he was no longer able to overhear him.
Tor returned to Patrick, Bellak and Ria. “We are going through the front,” he informed them. “Gallad is taking the back. He has instructed his men not to attack, but be prepared to defend yourself anyway. It is not that I do not trust him, but...” He could not finish the sentence.
“But you suspect he has as much control over those mercenaries as Vitkin had over his,” Patrick suggested.
“Something like that.”
They entered the building through the main door. There was no sign of Gallad or his hired thugs anywhere, so they assumed he was somewhere in the back. The light streaming through the windows was enough to see by, but would not be for long.
“We should have brought torches,” Patrick pointed out. Tor grunted in reply.
Directly in front of them was an elaborate marble staircase. “It cannot be that easy,” Ria said, moving to the left to see if there was any way of getting under it. Bellak went with her while Tor and Patrick took the right.
It was solid, with no gap between the floor and the second storey that anything larger than an ant could get through. They felt it all over as high as they could reach, but there seemed to be no sign of a secret door or compartment anywhere.
“Not the right staircase I guess,” Tor said.
“I will check the second floor,” Ria volunteered and raced up the stairs before Tor could stop her. He thought splitting up was a bad idea. While his brother had promised him that there would be no violence, he had his doubts.
“Be careful,” he called after her. From where he was standing he could not see her roll her eyes.
There were corridors to the left and the right and Tor chose the one on the left, for no other reason than it was the nearest. Assuming that stairs would not be in a room, they ignored all of the doors and followed the hallway as it curved to the right.
As they continued forward screams of agony could be heard from further down the corridor.
“At least we know where to go,” Patrick observed and headed toward them.
The sounds were coming from one of Gallad’s men, who was sitting on the ground with his eyes closed.
Ordering Tor and Bellak to stay back, Patrick cautiously approached. The man did not react as he drew closer, other than to turn his head toward him. Still his eyes did not open.
“Kill me, please,” the man gasped. Tears were streaming down his face. “It hurts so much.”
Patrick knelt down beside him. “The pain will go. What happened?”
“Spider.” Nothing more needed to be said. He could see the stairs in front of him, the door to the cupboard underneath standing wide open to reveal a mass of silky spider webs.
“I cannot see,” the man continued. “I am blind.”
Patrick bent his head sadly, but felt no sympathy for the man. The clue had specifically warned them all that the spider could take away their sight so the man had been stupid to approach it. It had failed to mention the pain though, but that did not worry him. He had suffered agony before and would probably do so a number of times again.
“Your sight may return,” Patrick suggested, not believing his own words.
The man was panting as he struggled to breathe through the pain. He shook his head. “We both know that is not true.” He groped around with his hand until Patrick took it in his own. The man gripped it tightly as another wave of agony passed through him. “Please kill me,” he said once more.
Patrick turned to look at Tor, who was close enough to hear what had been said. He nodded his head and Patrick produced a knife from his belt. With one swift movement he thrust it under the man’s ribcage. The man stiffened in surprise and his eyes opened, then he relaxed as his life flowed out of him.
Patrick closed the man’s eyelids then looked at Tor once more. “I guess I am going to go see a spider.”
“You do not have to do this. You saw how much pain he was in.”
“Yes he does,” Bellak snapped. “It is the only way to get the next clue.”
Tor did not react. He knew it would be pointless.
Patrick stood up and moved toward the stairs, Tor and Bellak following close behind. As he approached the cupboard door he stopped and removed his bow and quiver, handing them to Tor. “Look after these for me. I hope I will still be able to use them when I get back.” He looked up at the cobwebs, then down at his clothes, which were still surprisingly clean, then at Tor. “Well this is going to be fun,” he said sarcastically then moved forward, his raised sword in his hand.
He spotted the spider as soon as he entered the cupboard, which went deep under the stairs. It was not a variety he recognised so he had no idea how swiftly it could move. He looked about him and saw a shelf at the far end of the cupboard. On it was a single glass ball.
“I think we are going to get the last one,” he called back, then stepped forward once more.
The spider sprang and Patrick turned toward it, but the cupboard was too small for him to be able to swing his sword around in time and there was nothing he could do to prevent it landing on his chest, crawling up to his neck and sinking its teeth into his flesh.
Gallad’s man had not been exaggerating about the pain and he screamed.
“Patrick,” Tor called out in alarm, but when Patrick turned to look at him he had a smile on his face.
“I have had worse,” he said through gritted teeth. “Though thankfully not often.” He then turned back toward his target, took two steps, reached forward with his hand, grabbed the glass ball and retreated backward.
Bellak took the ball from Patrick’s hand and examined it closely. It was a clear ball made from some sort of glass and was completely plain. There was no sign of any writing on the outside and there was nothing contained within it.
“How is this the next clue?” Bellak asked. Patrick shrugged his shoulders. His vision was beginning to blur so he had no idea what the issue was, but he decided not to mention this to anyone. They had more important things to worry about than the fact he was probably going blind. After all, all he would need to do to get his sight back was die and come back to life. At least he hoped that was the case.
“The clue did say ‘the ball is blank,” Tor pointed out. “Now we know what it means. We just need to figure out the last line. ‘Elemental writing will show you the way.’”
He then noticed that Patrick was swaying. “Are you alright?”
“Fine,” Patrick lied. “Other than the fact that my neck feels like it is on fire.”
“Go and find Ellen,” he instructed.
Somehow Patrick managed to make his way down the corridor without anyone suspecting he was having trouble seeing. As soon as he rounded the corner, however, he placed his hands on the wall, using it to guide him to where he hoped an exit was. His vision had now lost all colour and the varying shades of black, white and grey were just blurs to him.
Once Patrick was out of sight Tor took the ball out of Bellak’s hand and held it up to a torch which must have been placed on a hanger on the wall by Gallad’s man. The light revealed absolutely nothing.
“No,” a scream sounded behind him and he spun around to see Gallad staring at him in horror.
Gallad raised his sword and Tor threw the ball at Bellak before drawing his own. He could not believe that his brother would attack him to steal the clue, but he was taking no chances.
“I am not your enemy Gallad,” he said as calmly as he could. “I retrieved the last ball fair and square.”
Gallad did not respond. Instead he turned his sword around to point it toward himself, angled it upward and thrust it into his stomach. It cut through his intestine, sliced his liver and pierced his lung.
Blood started to flow as his body slowly sank to the ground.
“Gallad,” Tor cried out, dropped his sword and rushed to his side. “What have you done you stupid idiot?” he said as he took his dying brother in his arms.
Gallad’s eyes fluttered open and he tried to focus on Tor’s face. He whispered something, but Tor could not make out the words as foaming blood dribbled from his mouth. Then his eyes closed once more and he exhaled his final breath.
Pain ripped through Tor. While he and Gallad had not been especially close he was still family and his death was a needless waste. What had driven him to take his own life Tor had no idea. His brother had never shown any great interest in ruling before their father died, so Tor could not understand why Gallad would kill himself just because he could no longer claim the throne.
Tor knew he should be thankful that he was still in the quest, at least for a while longer, but all he could feel was an overwhelming sense of loss.
His grief was interrupted by a voice calling out. “What have you done?”
Tor carefully placed Gallad’s body on the ground and stood up. “This is not what it looks like,” he said as he slowly made his way closer to his sword. He still had Patrick’s bow and quiver across his back, but at this close range they would be of no use.
“You have killed your own brother,” the man continued in disbelief. “Why?”
Tor looked the man over and recognised him as one who had been with Gallad when they had first seen each other. He was holding out his sword in a threatening manner, but did not move as Tor edged closer to his own weapon.
“He took his own life,” Tor insisted. “I swear.”
“Galled would never do that.” If he had not seen it for himself Tor would have agreed with this statement.
“I assure you, he did,” Tor continued as he slid his foot under his sword.
“I don’t believe you,” the man snarled. Then he called out at the top of his voice. “Men. Tor and his people have murdered Gallad. Kill them all.”
He rushed at Tor, who kicked his sword into the air and expertly caught it in one hand. Saying a silent prayer of thanks to his sword master for teaching him how to do that, he blocked the incoming attack and countered with one of his own.
He did not shout out a warning to his team; they would have heard his opponent’s call to have them killed and would be on guard.
Patrick heard the shout and almost laughed. He was in no shape to defend himself if one of Gallad’s men found him; he would not even be able to see if anyone approached. He had suspected that he would die that day; now it had become a certainty. “I hope it restores my sight,” he said to himself. He stopped trying to blindly find the exit and waited for death to find him.
While Tor and his attacker fought, Tor glanced around him. He assumed that Patrick was already out of the building and Bellak had disappeared. He hoped that the wizard had managed to make it out already, but had no way of knowing. Ria was still around somewhere, but he was not worried about her safety. She was more than capable of taking care of herself.
His mind temporarily flicked to Ellen. She was too far away from the house to have heard the ‘kill’ call, but he was confident that Ban would not allow anyone to approach, even if he did not know that Gallad’s men intended them harm.
That just left himself to worry about so he focused his concentration on the man in front of him and did his best to disarm him without it being fatal to either of them.
The man fought well and Tor was beginning to wonder which way the fight would go when he noticed the man overstretch his arm as he sliced downward toward Tor’s head.
Taking advantage of the slight mistake, Tor blocked the stroke then twisted around so his sword went under his attacker’s, sinking deep into the man’s unprotected side.
The man crumpled to the ground and one quick look at the wound told Tor it was worse than he had intended. The blood was pouring out at such a rate that Tor knew he would not be able to get the man to Ellen in time.
He knelt down beside him and took his hand. “I am sorry. I never intended for anyone to die.”
The dying man gripped Tor’s hand tight as he struggled to cope with the pain. “End it,” he gasped. “Please.”
Tor placed his sword so the tip was digging into the man’s bloody tunic. He looked him in the eye, waiting for him to nod his head. When he did Tor pushed on his sword with all of his weight, piercing the man’s heart. He continued to hold his hand until it went limp, then he stood up and went in search of Bellak.
He walked down the corridor and turned a corner in time to see another of Gallad’s men removing his sword from Patrick’s dead body.
He had not been spotted, so he sheathed his sword, removed Patrick’s bow from his shoulder and took an arrow from the quiver.
He watched it fly through the air as he released it. The arrow hit Patrick’s murderer in the neck, severing his spinal cord. As soon as the man’s lifeless body hit the ground, Tor ran up to Patrick and knelt down beside him.
“Oh Patrick, not again,” he whispered. “When are you going to learn to take better care of your body?” He slowly stood up and looked around him. The fight, as well as the quest, was far from over.
From Trudie:
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