The Vault Of Mysteries (Marshyl Stories Book 1) Page 3

  Large chunks of stone rained down on the Knight, who lifted his shield for protection. Dex was horrified when a heavy block of stone hit the Marshyl's shield, smashing it back into his head and knocking him down. The Knight grunted in pain but immediately rolled to his knees. His shield arm hung down at an awkward angle and Dex knew immediately that the Knight's arm was broken.

  There was also blood on the Marshyl's face. Dex guessed that the shield must have opened a gash on the Knight's forehead. Still, he raised his sword and deflected a spell from the wizard with white hair. The hunched wizard swung his wand in a circle as he chanted an incantation. The stones on the ground near the Knight rose up and swirled around him like a cyclone. The Marshyl covered his face with his arm and rushed out of the swirling debris.

  Dex heard the stones pelting against the Knight's armor with astounding force and was surprised to see him still on his feet. The white-haired wizard cast a spell that shot milky white smoke at the Marshyl, but he blocked the curse and called out a spell of his own. The magic clung to the sword blade for a moment and then the Knight slashed the weapon back toward the wizard. The white curse shot toward the wizard and engulfed him. Dex heard the man screaming but the Marshyl had spun around to face the hunchbacked wizard. With a wave of his wand the thin man vanished and the Marshyl, his shield arm dragging like an anchor behind him, began to hack and slash madly in every direction.

  Dex saw the last wizard pressed against a building across the street, clearly wanting no part of the battle. The magical smoke had grown until it completely engulfed the white-haired wizard. Dex couldn't see what was happening to the man but his agonized screaming made it clear that it wasn't good. Suddenly blue light erupted behind the Marshyl. He had been turning and slashing with his sword in every direction, but the invisible wizard still found a way to inflict damage.

  The spell slammed into the Knight's lower back and sent him sprawling down the street. Dex gasped as the Marshyl's sword flew from his hand and his body collapsed in a heap of armor. The invisible wizard cast spell after spell at the fallen Knight. The incredible armor seemed to absorb most of the magical power, but it was obvious that the frail wizard was causing damage. His spell of invisibility failed as he worked frantically to end the fight.

  “We have to do something,” Dex shouted.

  “Don't! You'll be killed,” Kyp cried, but Dex was already pulling himself up onto the Marshyl's horse.

  Dex had only been on horseback a few times and never on a warhorse or even in a saddle, but the horse seemed to know what to do. It charged out of the alley and straight toward the battle. Dex lost all thoughts of helping the Marshyl and focused all his might on simply holding on, but it was impossible.

  Time seemed to slow down as Dex lost his grip on the saddle. He felt his body sliding and saw the horse's hooves flashing as the metal horseshoes struck rocks in the street, throwing up sparks.

  “Dex!”

  The young orphan heard his friend screaming his name but Dex was clawing at the horse's saddle in a last desperate attempt not to fall. He failed and the world went black.

  Chapter 5

  Dex’s body went flying from the horse and slammed into the back of the frail wizard. He didn’t hear the crunch of bones as he landed on the wizard, or see the spellcaster’s wand go flying through the air. Kyp ran down the street toward his friend as the Marshyl struggled to move. His body was crumpled and his normally supple armor had become heavy and cumbersome.

  The last remaining wizard was a coward, but he saw the chance to finish the Marshyl and hurried forward just as the Knight rolled onto his back. There was blood on his face and a puddle in the dirt that made the dust cling to his armor. The wizard stood close and raised his wand as Kyp sprinted toward them. The Knight drew his dagger and threw it with a flick of his wrist. The wizard’s arm dropped and he fell to his knees with the handle of the dagger protruding from his stomach. He tried to cry out but he couldn’t catch his breath. Kyp saw it all and relayed every detail to his friend once Dex came around.

  The townspeople were gathering around the scene of the battle. As the street fell quiet, the crowd found the courage to edge closer. Kyp reached his friend and patted his cheeks. Dex’s eyes fluttered open and he looked up in surprise.

  “What happened?”

  “You crashed right into the wizard,” Kyp crowed. “You crushed him flat!”

  “The Marshyl?”

  “He’s hurt,” Kyp said.

  Dex rolled over and looked around. The wizard he had landed on was still alive, but unconscious. The white magical smoke had consumed the first wizard. All that remained was a pile of smoking bones. One wizard had been crushed by his horse, another had bled to death from the Marshyl’s slash across his thigh. The last wizard lay dying with the Knight’s dagger in his gut.

  “We need a healer!” Dex shouted as he crawled to the Marshyl.

  The Knight was unconscious so Dex carefully removed his helmet. There was a gash across his forehead and blood was slowly seeping from the joints in his armor. Dex tore his sleeve from his shirt and mopped up the blood that had covered the Knight’s face, then pressed the cloth against the cut to stanch the bleeding.

  “Do you think he’ll be all right?” Kyp asked.

  “I don’t know. I guess it depends on how much of the magic the armor saved him from.”

  A group of townsfolk brought a stretcher, pushing the boys aside as they loaded the Marshyl up and carried him away. Others were dealing with the wizards. The wands were collected and bodies carried out of the streets. Dex was sore, but wasn’t seriously hurt, so the two boys went to find something to eat.

  Surviving as orphans in Rycaster was difficult but Dex had made it his business to make friends. There were sympathetic people in the town, the boys just had to be careful not to overstay their welcome with any one of them. They decided to try the livery stable where they sometimes mucked out stalls in exchange for a handful of oats. The man who owned the livery lived in the big barn and had taken a liking to the two orphan boys. He was an older man, his hair turned gray, the skin on his weathered face filled with lines and wrinkles. Once Dex had fetched the Marshyl’s horse, he took it to the livery.

  “What are you two scoundrels up to?” Horris said. “You steal that horse?”

  “No,” Dex said quickly. “This is Hasty, the Marshyl’s horse.”

  “Oh, I heard about the fight,” the livery owner said. “Will he survive?”

  “I don’t know,” Dex said. “But we knew you’d want to look after his horse personally.”

  “Well, that is true. Marshyls do tend to reward people for caring for their mounts. I’ll take him in.”

  “Not so fast,” Dex said, stepping back as Hasty bobbed his massive head and pawed at the ground with one hoof.

  “We haven’t had breakfast yet,” Kyp said.

  “That’s not my problem,” the old man said.

  “We could take the horse back to the Royal Arms,” Dex said. “I’ve no doubt the Marshyl will pay handsomely to see that his horse is well cared for. Taynt will surely give us at least a meal.”

  “That old bastard hates you,” Horris said. “Leave the horse with me and you can have some oats.”

  “And honey,” Kyp said.

  “What?”

  “You heard him,” Dex said. “And we want to stay in your livery the next time it rains.”

  “You boys are criminals and thieves,” the old man declared but he was smiling when he said it. “Take the horse to a stall and unsaddle him. We’ll get him some oats, too.”

  The boys took care of the horse and were careful to make sure that none of the Knight’s belongings were lost or damaged. Once everything was stored away, they found Horris in a small side yard where he had a wooden table and sometimes kept a fire burning. The fire was crackling merrily and a kettle was hung over the flames.

  “Get bowls from the locker inside,” Horris told them.

  They went back into t
he stable and found a locker where spare tack and tools were kept. There were three metal bowls along with pewter spoons and cups. They gathered the utensils and went back out to the yard. Horris divided the boiled oats between the three bowls and produced a jar of honey, which he shared with the boys. Dex and Kyp were starving and wolfed their meal down before it had cooled. The porridge wasn’t very flavorful, but it was warm and filling.

  “What happened to your shirt?” Horris asked.

  “He tore the sleeve off to help the Marshyl,” Kyp said.

  “Was he hurt badly?”

  “He was bleeding,” Dex said.

  “A lot,” Kyp added.

  “I doubt he’s dead. The Marshyl Knights are strong—and if he’d died, we’d have heard about it by now.”

  Kyp and Dex told the story of the fight. Horris had heard about it, just not in detail. The boys left nothing out as they ate their food and drank cups of the cold well water that Horris also used to water the animals in his livery. After they let their meal settle a little, the two boys set out to find out what had become of the Marshyl.

  Rycaster had two healers, but neither could work magic and were really little more than self-taught apothecaries. The Knight had been taken to Orlyn the bone mender who had a small shop not far from the main street that ran through Rycaster. The boys waited until the healer went outside for a smoke. Orlyn was heavily addicted to pipe tobacco and couldn’t go long without it.

  “What are you two doing skulking around here?” he growled, lighting his pipe with a long piece of straw.

  “We wanted to know what happened to the Knight.”

  “He’s dead, that’s what,” the healer growled. “Nothing more I can do for him. He’s got bleeding on the inside. Whatever those devils did to him, they couldn’t have been more cruel. He’ll die slow and painful.”

  “No,” Dex said.

  “I’m afraid so,” the healer went on. “Maybe if he was back with his people up in the fortress where they keep their magic he might have a chance.”

  “Surely there’s something you can do,” Dex insisted.

  “Keep him comfortable, that’s all. I’ve given him some poppy milk that makes him sleep, but there’s no way for me to stop the bleeding.”

  “Can’t you sew him up?” Kyp asked.

  “I can sew up the cuts on the outside, but his injuries are deep down on the inside. Can’t nobody heal that ’cept for maybe a wizard with the right know-how. I’m not talking about these fools with wands and rings that only care about killing each other. Healing magic is powerful stuff and mostly a lost art. Anyway, it’s more than I can do.”

  “So we’ll get him back to the fortress,” Dex said.

  “Now I doubt there’s any around here foolish enough to try to make that journey,” the healer said between puffs on his pipe.

  “Kyp and I will do it,” Dex said. “We were supposed to go north with the Marshyl anyway.”

  “Is that right?” the healer said skeptically.

  “Yes,” Dex said, “it is right. You get him ready to go and we’ll be back with a cart to carry him home in.”

  “It’s a fool’s errand but I don’t see the harm in sending you two lost souls on such a task. Rycaster will be better off without the likes of you.”

  “Just get him ready,” Dex said, before turning and hurrying away.

  “What are you planning now?” Kyp asked.

  “Just what I said,” Dex told his friend as they headed back toward the livery. “We’ll take him north and get him to his order.”

  “That journey will take a week, maybe more,” Kyp said. “Besides, we don’t have the money to buy a meal for ourselves, much less outfit an expedition.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong,” Dex said.

  “You have some coin I don’t know about?”

  “No, I don’t have coin, but the Marshyl does.”

  “You’re going to steal from a Marshyl? You have really lost your mind.”

  “Think about it Kyp, who is going to care? The healer says the Knight is dying. If we do nothing he will die and someone will take that coin. Why not us? No one can dispute that we were going with him. He said himself he would come back for us. Well, now he needs us. We’ll convince Horris to give us that old cart he’s got behind the livery. We’ll use Hasty to pull it. Maybe there is nothing the Knights can do for him, but this is our best chance to get out of here and make a name for ourselves.”

  “We’ll probably just be robbed and killed,” Kyp insisted.

  “At least we’ll die trying,” Dex said. “We’ve got nothing keeping us here. No family, no prospects. This is our only chance. We can’t let it pass us by.”

  “Fine,” Kyp said. “But if we get killed you remember I told you so.”

  “I’ll do that,” Dex said with a grin. “Come on, we’ve got a lot of work to do.”

  Chapter 6

  Dex found a small pouch filled with gold and silver coins in the Marshyl’s belongings. He hid most of the coin, but sent Kyp to buy supplies for their trip. They needed food and warmer clothes, as well as blankets and a satchel for each of them to carry. Horris tried to talk them out of leaving, but he knew there was nothing in Rycaster for the boys. He might have taken one of them under his wing, but the livery barely provided a living for the elderly man. It was no trade for a young man who would probably need to support a family. In the end, he gifted the cart to the boys and helped them get the big warhorse into a makeshift harness.

  Hasty wasn’t thrilled with the concept, but when they pulled the cart to the healer’s house and the horse saw his wounded master, it calmed down. The Marshyl was unconscious, his armor was wrapped in a bundle and his thick, muscular body was wrapped in bandages. He had suffered several deep cuts on his abdomen, but the healer had cleaned the wounds and stitched them up. The gash on his head had been filled with ointment and wrapped tightly in a clean bandage.

  “This is suicide for you two,” the healer said. “And he won’t make it. He needs rest. Moving him around like this will only speed up the internal damage.”

  “We don’t have time to go for help,” Dex said.

  “The journey to the Marshyl fortress is difficult in the best of circumstances,” the healer warned. “Have either of you even been north of the city?”

  The boys both shook their heads.

  “Suicide,” the healer said again. “I can’t even give you the milk of the poppy. It has to be carefully administered or it could kill him. You know he’ll be in agonizing pain. If you leave him here at least he’ll be comfortable.”

  “If we leave him he has no chance,” Dex said. “We can’t do that.”

  “Fine, then change his bandages every other day. Keep the wounds as clean as possible. You probably won’t need to,” the healer explained, “but if he survives the week and the cuts aren’t putrefying, then cut the stitches and pull them out.”

  “We can do that,” Dex said. “We’re going to get him home, I promise.”

  Kyp looked as doubtful as the healer when they set out from Rycaster. It was late in the afternoon but they didn’t want to wait. They needed to get the Marshyl to a magical healer if he were to have any chance of recovering. And the only place that type of healer might be found was in the Marshyl fortress.

  The secretive order was based in a mountain fortress over a week’s journey from Rycaster, and the road north was dangerous. Once they passed out of the kingdom of Tuckerron they would have to make their way through the smaller, more hostile kingdoms of Plantex and Jorville, before finally coming to the mountains that marked the border of Northia. Dex had no idea if they could even find the legendary Marshyl fortress, but something inside him was certain he had to try.

  Once they were well away from the city, Kyp let his doubts be known. He wasn’t a pessimistic person, but he had experienced more than his share of tragedies in life, not the least of which was losing his entire family in a fire that consumed their small, clapboard house in
a matter of minutes. It had occurred almost two years ago, during the summer when sleeping outside was sometimes more comfortable than resting indoors. Kyp had been camped on the beach with Dex when his home had caught fire. No one knew how it had happened. It certainly didn’t make sense that Kyp’s parents had kindled a fire during the warmest part of the year, yet the thought that someone might have burned the house down on purpose was so repugnant that no one in the village had been willing to even consider it.

  Shortly after the death of his parents, Kyp had followed Dex to Rycaster. The first year had been extremely hard, but the boys weren’t afraid to work. They did whatever odd jobs they could find and survived on the charity of the townsfolk, who had seen too many orphans from the coast.

  “Are we doing the right thing?” Kyp asked.

  “What do you mean?” Dex asked.

  They were walking on either side of the horse, following the broad trade road that ran north toward Mount Royal, the capital of Tuckerron.

  “You know I trust you, but I’m not sure we’re doing the right thing by the Marshyl. He’s going to wake up at some point and be in a lot of pain.”

  “I know that,” Dex said, trying to sound confident.

  “So, maybe it would have been better to just take the money and leave him with the healer. At least that way he wouldn’t have known how bad off he is.”

  “You afraid of the work it’s going to take to get him to his people?” Dex asked.

  “You know I’m not,” Kyp said. “But I feel guilty.”

  “You’d feel more guilty if we’d stolen the coin. We aren’t thieves, you know that.”

  “I do, but the healer made some good points. If the Marshyl is going to die anyway, we could have taken the coin and made our way to Mount Royal.”

  “I had to try,” Dex said. “If you want we can split the money when we reach Mount Royal and you can stay there.”