Dark Quest Read online

  Colonel Gregor described his observations of the murder scene. “So you see, if the sword was in the room, it couldn’t have been used on the guards outside the room.”

  “Well, I am no investigator,” she questioned, “but how could someone have killed the two guards outside without alerting the King? Plus, there were no footprints in the blood.”

  “Well, the Sergeant had no problem jumping over the blood flow.”

  “Yes, but that also would have made a great deal of noise.” Callie tried to picture the scene in her mind. She wished her father had been there to paint a picture.

  “You are right. When the Sergeant leaped over the blood, he slammed into the door. Yet the king was not alerted. He was still in bed when he was struck.”

  “Colonel, what if the King was killed first? The murderer would have access to the sword to kill the King. Then he could have easily walked out and killed the guards last, so that no one would be able to report who had been in the room last.”

  The Colonel pondered Callie’s course of logic. “That would mean that the killer was admitted to the room. He would have been known to the guards as an acceptable guest, or the King would have notified them that he was expecting this person. Accepting this premise, the guards would still have reacted to a guest leaving the king’s bedroom with a bloody sword.”

  “Is it possible that the guards had left for some reason or that they may have been killed at a later time?”

  “No, the guards would never leave their post. Besides, their bodies were cold, just like the King’s.”

  “But you mentioned that their blood was still flowing. That would indicate to me that they hadn’t been dead very long at all.”

  “You’re right, of course,” exclaimed Colonel Gregor. “Unfortunately, I can’t reconcile those two facts. Perhaps I will have a discussion with the King’s Physician when I return from Dalek.”

  A Red Sword Corporal came into the inn and reported to the Colonel. He ordered the Corporal to give a note to Sergeant Ferguson. He scribbled a hasty note and the Corporal left. “We have to get you out to the Klandon Road, Callie. I hope you are packed.”

  The Council of Advisors had reconvened and Duke Whitley wondered about Oscar’s absence.

  “I’ve got it,” shouted Duke Moran. “A distant cousin of King Olweg’s had a son and there is no record of his son’s death. The cousin is paternally connected and was given the ambassadorship to Cordonia. His son is John Secor. We have to let the Regent know right away.”

  Duke Whitley began to speak and ended up just clearing his throat. Oscar must have found out and that is why he left. He is getting Callie to safety. “I don’t think that is a very good idea, Duke Moran. You know Regent Nelson won’t want to be bothered with what may very well be false information. I think we should check every possible heir before jumping to the conclusion that we have the proper one.”

  Most of the Council members grumbled. They obviously did not enjoy spending their time plodding through the archives, but they finally agreed to check a little further. Duke Whitley knew he had bought precious little time for Oscar, but right now he would take any time he could get.

  After several more hours of searching, Regent Nelson entered the room and Duke Moran blurted out the news. Regent Nelson thanked the Council for their work and dismissed them. He promptly spun on his heel and left.

  Duke Whitley noticed that the Regent had another new aide following him. This one was a young man with long, black hair. There were many new faces in the Palace these days. Things were beginning to look desperate. Lord Habas was in jail. Alex and Jenneva had warrants out for their arrest. Oscar and Callie were running for their lives. It was not long ago that they had all been enjoying life together in Kantor.

  Sergeant Todd Racor volunteered to go to Lavinda. He had, after all, actually seen Alexander Tork before, so he was a likely choice to check out the village. Todd thought back to the day that Alex had saved his life. He had thought he was going to die at the hands of the goblins, but Alex killed the goblins with his myric quills. He owed his life to Alex and was hoping he would not find him. Still, if Todd had to bring him in, that would be preferable to one of the other soldiers who were threatening to kill Alex on sight. He had followed stories of Alex during the goblin war and his own station rose in the Bordon garrison because he had actually met Alex. Todd hoped someday to join the Red Swords and had visions of Alex sponsoring him. It didn’t look like that would ever happen now.

  Todd rode into Lavinda and was greeted by a couple of young men. “Greetings to Lavinda. I am Sergeant Todd Racor from Bordon. I am seeking Captain Alexander Tork. Is he here?”

  “Laman Jawor, village leader, and this sour puss is Kyle Kinder, Lavinda’s mortician when we need one,” quipped Laman. “I’m afraid that you won’t find Alex here. He’s much too valuable to the Kingdom to languish in the valley. Why don’t you join us for some dinner? You can rest your horse before you return to Bordon.”

  Todd was relieved. He allowed a young girl to take his horse and followed Laman into the village. The villagers were having some kind of a party and the village square was bustling with activity. Tables were loaded with food and the smell of roasting pork made Todd’s mouth water.

  Laman handed him a mug of ale and asked, “How are things in Bordon these days?”

  Todd realized that these villagers were so remote that they weren’t even aware of the King’s death. “Pretty hectic, actually. Things in the world seem to move rather quickly these days. We’re gearing up for a possible war.”

  “It’s not goblins again, is it?” asked Kyle.

  “No, there have been a rash of murders and robberies at temples throughout the land and people in Tagaret think the Cordonians might be behind it. I guess Alex hasn’t been by in a while has he?”

  Laman helped himself to another mug of ale. “Oh, he stopped by about three or four weeks ago, but he couldn’t stay. He’s got some new elite group that he is training, called them the Targa Rangers. He stops by every time he goes through the pass so I guess he’s still up north somewhere. I should think the Army would know where to find him. It’s kind of strange for them to send you here.”

  “Well, actually the Army has no idea where to find him. That’s why they sent me to look.” Todd didn’t know how to tell these villagers that their hero was an assassin.

  Kyle swiftly drew his sword and held it to the Sergeant’s chest. Laman reached over and relieved the Sergeant of his sword. “What the heck are you doing, Kyle?”

  The party atmosphere instantly evaporated and Kyle said, “This fellow is not telling us the truth or at least not all of the truth. I think he might be a Cordonian spy, sent here to get information on Alex’s group. Now I think the young Sergeant is going to tell us why he is really here.” Kyle pressed slightly with his sword to emphasize his determination.

  Todd started sweating profusely. If he told these villagers the truth, they might very well kill him. For a long time he said nothing. Laman walked over and held the Sergeant’s own sword to Todd’s throat. “Kara, do we have room on that spit for another pig?”

  Todd felt his hands being pulled behind his back and soon they were tied together. Marga stepped out from behind the Sergeant with a smirk. “If we don’t, we’ll let the other pig go free and just roast this one.”

  Todd knew that if he remained silent, he would die. These villagers meant business. “Okay, I’ll tell you everything you want to know and quite a bit that you don’t, but you have no right to kill a Targan soldier for doing his duty.”

  Laman relaxed his sword a bit and Todd felt some small measure of relief. “I owe Alex my life,” Todd began. “I wish no harm to come to him. That is why I volunteered to come to Lavinda. If I didn’t come, others would have and they wish to see Alex dead.”

  “Why would any Targan want to see Alex dead?” Marga asked.

  “There is a warrant for his arrest for killing King Eugene,” Todd spit out.

&nb
sp; The village was in shock. For several long moments, no one spoke, each villager lost in his own version of the nightmare spreading before him. Laman lowered his sword and called out. “Eddie, grab your weapons. Try to track down Alex and let him know what is going on.” He looked around the village, focusing on the expression on everyone’s face. “Do we need a village meeting on this?” he asked. Everyone shook their heads. “When you find him, tell him Lavinda is a safe place for him to be. We are prepared to fight the whole Targan Army if need be.”

  “What do we do with this pig?” asked Kyle.

  “Let him go,” answered Laman. “Sergeant, you now owe your life twice to Alex Tork. Alex would never murder a Targan soldier, much less the king. Go back to your garrison and tell them Alex is not here. If they decide to come back this way, you had better find some excuse not to be with them. We won’t kill someone who came into this village peacefully, but if the army tries to attack us, we will not hesitate to defend our village.”

  After his hands were untied, Todd turned to Laman. “Look, Laman, I was not lying when I said that I mean Alex no harm. I can think of no other person whom I would rather be like. I am willing to stay and help you defend the village if you will let me.”

  “We do not need help defending the village,” Marga stated. “If you really wish to help Alex, go back and report that he is not here. Make no mention of our invitation to him and you will save a lot of lives.”

  “I will do as you request, but when this is all over, I want to come back and visit. I want to get to know the people whom Alex lived with. Your courage and dedication to Alex would make any monarch proud.”

  “You may come back and visit when Alex is free to come and go as he pleases,” replied Kyle.

  Regent Nelson sat in the King’s Study. “Well, what have you found out about this Secor?”

  “He’s a painter,” replied Aurora. “We ran into a merchant just back from Kantor. Interesting thing is, he just married off his daughter. The President of Cordonia presided over the ceremony himself.”

  “Yeah,” added Dalgar, “but the really interesting item is who she married. She is now the wife of Duke Dalek.”

  “Duke Dalek,” the Regent shouted. “That’s why he was missing from the evening session of the Council. He’s off to bring his father-in-law to the capital.”

  “Perhaps,” pondered Dalgar. “Maybe he is going to make sure that Secor doesn’t live to claim the throne. He could have visions of being the King himself.”

  “Whatever,” snapped the Regent, “I don’t think that Secor can make it to Tagaret in two weeks. Get someone to monitor the situation and keep me informed.”

  Egam and Jenneva were working with Galdan. “So you see how this idea works in concert with your Doors?” Galdan asked.

  “Yes, of course,” answered Egam. “Very simple yet very secure. We will not have to depend on knocking anymore. Galdan, I have always enjoyed working with you.”

  “You honor me, Egam. I am pleased that you have finally decided to share your student with me. Jenneva, you have an aptitude for magic that is unprecedented. You are welcome to join me in Galdan whenever you get the chance. Perhaps I can entice you into studying with me for a while.”

  “I would consider it an honor, Galdan,” Jenneva replied. “Your valley here is so peaceful. It is what I like about Atar’s Cove.”

  “You must watch her, Galdan,” quipped Egam. “She has seen the breadth of your library.”

  “Egam!” laughed Jenneva. “I may take you up on your offer, Galdan, but perhaps at a later time. Things in the Kingdom are not in order and I feel that I must break away from my studies for a while.”

  “Your young man, no doubt,” said the elf magician. “He is a wise man, Jenneva. He understands that not all things can be conquered by strength alone. He cares for others above himself and he does not presume to know everything. These are the measures of a great leader and a great man.”

  Galdan sat on a stump and gazed at Jenneva. “Take time to love, Jenneva. Your studies are important, but so is your life. When you are old and look back upon your life, you will be amazed at what you consider to be the most important times of your walk among the living. It will not be the times when you struck down a thousand goblins with a mighty spell. It will be the short days that you spent in a lover’s embrace or the smell of fragrant flowers in the morning mist.”

  “You are a wise man, Galdan, and I will try to heed your advice.”

  The temple in Lorgo was busy night and day. The Black Devils were getting tired of waiting. They could not afford to spend three days watching every temple. This was not the first raid that Zanar had been put in charge of and he hoped it would not be his last. Still, as he sat watching the people moving in and out of the Temple of Char, he knew he had to get results soon or he would be replaced. Finally the thought struck him and he laughed. Char was the God of Fire and Char would deliver the books he needed.

  He called several of his men over and plotted his strategy. Across the street from the temple was an infirmary for the old and feeble. He ordered several of his men to start it burning.

  Within moments the building became a blazing inferno. People from all over town rushed to put the fire out before it caught on to the adjacent buildings. He ordered his men to make sure that it did spread. He boldly led his men into the temple through the back door and killed everyone in sight. The front door to the temple was barricaded so no one could gain admittance. Protests from worshippers outside would be ignored as long as the fire raged. The fire and the resulting commotion also covered the screams of the dying priests inside the temple. There were more than enough screams from those outside with loved ones in the infirmary.

  The robbery was sloppy and some of the books were damaged, but Zanar didn’t care. He had other targets to attack. Mordac would not be mad if his deadline slipped on one target as long as he made it up on the next. He reached into his pocket and removed the torn cloth and threw it just inside the back door. The piece of Targan shirt with the distinctive red bar of the Red Swords would create some heat of its own when the Sordoan authorities found it.

  His men started the loaded wagons heading down the path to the harbor. There was a fishing boat waiting for his cargo and the sooner he got rid of it, the sooner he could be off to his next target.

  Zanar didn’t understand how collecting these books would bring Sarac back and he didn’t care. What Zanar liked about this job was the killing.

  Chapter 9

  Coronation

  The three black-clad figures lay watching the sentry movements and counting the seconds for each move. The army fortress for the Gordo Pass had been built recently and there appeared to be no chinks in the stockade. The garrison consisted of men of the Frontier Division trained by Alex Tork or his sergeants. It would not be an easy fortress to storm.

  The lead figure snapped his finger and the three shadows moved as one. They raced to the southwest corner of the stockade and pressed their bodies against the wooden framework of the barrier. Each of the men was tapping his finger against his leg in rhythmic patterns. From one man to the next, their cadence was unwavering. They took a metal spike with a long rope attached and shoved it hard into the joint of two wall pieces. One man tossed a hook high into the air and it hit the wall with a small thud. The second man was on his way up the rope before the slight echo died. He carried the longer rope attached to the spike and dropped the free end over the wall. They had thirty-four seconds for all three of them to get up the rope and down the other side undetected.

  The dark figures crammed into the shadows of the corner and continued counting. There would be time for only two of them to sprint across the courtyard. The third would have to wait another three minutes. The two who had crossed did not wait. They crawled under the small building and peered out the other side. Minutes passed by slowly. They had another stretch of clear ground to cover. One of the patrol guards walked by them only two feet away and he was on schedule
. Had they been playing a practical joke, they could have reached out and tripped the guard, but this was no joke. Their lives depended on getting away undetected.

  The third black warrior joined them. He would be staying here to handle the one guard that they had not been able to time. As if someone had given a signal, the first two men crawled out from under the building and sprinted across the courtyard. One quickly threw another hook and they scampered up to the roof, pulling the rope up after them. The only windows in this building were on the second floor and in the front of the building. They attached the hook to the roof directly over one of these windows. The free end of the rope was tied to the hook so that the rope would not extend down far enough to be seen by the sentry below.

  They had another hundred and forty seconds before they could move. The men continued their tapping, counting mentally when their hands were busy. The first man grabbed the rope and silently lowered himself, using his feet only when he came to the window ledge. He felt very exposed with his face to the wall and his back to the army. Getting in the window without swinging the rope was difficult. He had left his shoes on the roof and was using his toes to inch his legs further into the room. Finally he was able to sit on the window ledge and enter the room. He did not glance up to see his partner; he knew the other man could not come down for four minutes. If the burglar ran into someone entering the room now, he would be on his own. He went to the door and slowly cracked it open. His target was in a room at the back of the building.

  He could hear the sounds of talk and laughter coming up the stairs, but there didn’t appear to be any occupants on the second floor. He moved silently down the hall, his back pressed against the wall to avoid the light from downstairs. He reached the room he was seeking and found the door locked. He cursed under his breath without losing count. He brought out a slim dagger and tried to ease it between the door and doorpost. The dagger would work, but he would lose precious time because of the delay.