The Beginnings of The Auldvoron Campaign:

Chapter 3: Returning To The Mystery

PART 1 – MORE HELP

Dinner that night was a quiet affair. Gareth was upset at his father because Sir Chester would not let him take any of the men back to the temple. “We have no men to spare,” and “we don’t even really know if there are any bandits” were Chester’s arguments. Try as he might Gareth could not get his father to understand how important what is under the temple might be. Chester’s only answer to that line of discussion was “what’s under the temple … if anything.” It seemed as though he was content to let the matter lie.

“If Brigid and Dermot couldn’t help you then maybe there’s just nothing in it!” said Sir Chester, and that let the matter stand. “I have to go up north along the river to check on something and I can’t leave the village completely without defence.” He looked rather pointedly at Gareth and said, “You should start thinking about where your responsibilities lie…”

Gareth looked up sharply at his father, the Fielding temper rising quickly. But then Sir Neville caught his eye and shook his head quietly. Gareth simply replied, “Yes father,” – rather petulantly – and that was that.

Dinner turned out to be quite quiet.

***

The meal was drawing to a close.

Brother Larkin was a bit concerned about Gareth, as he was very moody through dinner. Once the detritus of dinner had been cleared away the young knight picked up the jug of wine and poured a rather large cupful. When the friar opened his mouth to say something, Gareth just glared at him and then went back to his pouring. Brother Larkin shut up.

Aelyra had never seen anything like this. Humans were always at each other over something she thought. She couldn’t see the sense in the Baron’s position, but she couldn’t really see why Gareth was taking it so hard that he would want to drink himself into a stupor. Once again she sipped her wine and shook her head at the strange way these people acted sometimes.

Just as Gareth finished that cup of wine and began to reach for the jug once again, his sister Gwynneth snatched it from the table. She glared at her brother as he rounded on her but any altercation was halted by the approach of Thaddeus, the doorman.

“Ah’m sorry t’ bother ye, milord,” he addressed Chester. Gwynneth took this opportunity to walk past her brother and, rather imperiously, sit back at her seat, placing the jug on the table between herself and Marion. “There be two genteelmen at the gate from the Barony Leofmund. They’s asked t’ be presented to ye.”

Chester looked up from his discussion with Marion. “Show them in Thad,” and he turned and brushed a hand across his tunic and then back through his greying hair. He had met the Baron Leofmund a few times at court. Leofmund was a likeable fellow although somewhat stern and dour at times. Chester thought that living so close to the Dreadwood and all the monstrous activity there would do that to a man whose responsibility it was to guard and patrol the area. Still Leofmund was a good man in Chester’s books – they thought much the same way about many things of importance – and he was interested in seeing what his fellow baron required of him. He looked up as Thad opened the door and ushered in two young men.

Instead of a regular envoy or herald these two young men bore surcoats with the family arms on them – a field divided per fess silver and green with two green lilies in the chief and one green one in the base. The addition of a label at the top on one and a star in the centre on the other identified these two young men as Leofmund’s sons.

What struck the assemblage was that, aside from the marks of differencing on the surcoats, they couldn’t tell these boys apart. They were identical! Sandy blonde hairy, just bordering on light brown, both of the same height, build, and such. They carried themselves somewhat differently but physically the similarities were remarkable.

As the approached the table one, the first son (he identified by the label) was carrying himself strongly and confidently, coming straight towards Chester. The other, or second, son was approaching in much the same way except that he would occasionally glance about at the trappings of the hall and, when he spotted Gwynneth and Aelyra at the table, a small smile began to play about the corners of his mouth.

The elder son stepped forward as the arrived in front of the table. He bowed slightly and handed a folded piece of parchment to Sir Chester.

“Milord Baron Fielding, I bring greetings from our father.” The voice was steady, calm, a strong voice with a mildly sober tone to it. The boy’s face was tanned and showed exposure to the out of doors – a ruggedness that one wouldn’t expect in one so young. Why, the boy couldn’t be barely twenty!

Chester took the offered packet and unfolded it.

“Just like your father. Straight and to the point. There should be no problems seeing to keeping you occupied. Now, what is this bit about ‘domestic problems’ and ‘any difficulties’, eh what?”

The two boys glanced at each other. The older one began explaining.

“There was some…”

The younger one interjected, “…difficulty with the staff. A very personal…”

“…Problem and father thought it would be best…”

“…If we left for Istvin earlier…”

“…Rather than later.”

After this little bipartite delivery they stopped. The older one looked at Sir Chester, while the younger one’s glance slid over to appraise Gwynneth’s charms, his mouth turning up slightly at the corners. For her part Gwyneth was busy directing one of the cooks on bringing more food for the two new arrivals. She was completely oblivious to her observer.

Chester harrumphed, “Yes – well – we’ll have to make sure that there are no ‘domestic difficulties that arise here,” he glared at the younger brother, “and I should say that you’ll probably get on well with my son Gareth.”

He turned and called to his son, “Gareth? What say the Leofmund boys help with that little mystery of yours, eh what?”

Gareth perked up at this idea. “That’s a thought father. Come, fellows. Join us here and we’ll see if you’re interested.” Gareth waved his hand and one of the servants brought the wine jug back from the other end of the table just as a platter of food arrived in front of the two boys.

The older boy sat beside Brother Larkin and extended his hand across the table to Gareth, “I’m Athelwane Leofmund, though most people call me Quarrel. This,” he indicated his brother who had circled the end of the table, “is my brother…”

“…Keith Leofmund,” the boy said as he scooped up Aelyra’s hand and planted a delicate kiss on it, “Though my friends call me Kit.” He smiled warmly and winked at the startled elf maiden.

Aelyra simply stared at him and icily removed her hand from his. “How nice for you… Keith.”

Brother Larkin chuckled. “I say, are you and your brother twins?”

Quarrel turned to the friar. “Yes indeed,” he smiled, “Identical in every way…”

“…But manners. You being five minutes older and SOOO much more mature…”

“…That many find it…”

“…Difficult…”

“…To tell us apart.”

“And do you always finish each other’s sentences?” asked Gareth, rather amused at the whole scene.

“Not…”

“…Always,” added Kit, pouring himself a glass of wine and then, elbow planted on the table and chin propped in his hand, he watched Aelyra, smiling all the while. Aelyra pointedly ignored him and kept listening to his brother.

“Care to help us solve a mystery?” asked the cleric.

Both men sat up and took notice at this. “Sure!” they responded, this time in unison. Then, as they began discussing the plan for the next day, Keith would toss a look at Aelyra or Gwynneth as the evening wore on.

Brother Larkin smiled as he poured another mug of wine and thought to himself, ‘This is going to be an interesting trip regardless of what we find.’

PART 2 – THE SECRET REVEALED

With the addition of the two brothers the party had near doubled in size. The Leofmunds appeared to be very adept at handling themselves in the out of doors, although Kit kept trying to make an impression on Aelyra throughout the journey back to the temple area.

Quarrel spent most of his time scouting a few hundred yards ahead, often getting off his horse to read the signs of the ground. In fact he appeared to be such a good guide that the trip took a little shorter than Gareth and the others had traversed previously. When they arrived in the area of the lost temple, Gareth looked at Brother Larkin with some hint of amazement – they had arrived at the very spot where they had previously made camp before spotting the temple… And the twins had not been with them on that trip. For a soft-spoken man, Quarrel was quite the tracker.

The party decided to camp that evening as it was generally felt that a fresh start would serve them better in the morning than approaching the temple at night. Around the camp fire that evening the three continued to provide as much details to the twins as possible so that all would be prepared for whatever the mystery proved to be in the morning.

***

The next morning dawned fresh and crisp. The winter air still held a bite to it and Aelyra’s breath hung in the air as she went through her morning exercises. This ritual of hers was necessary in her practice of sorcery, all bladesingers calling upon the cosmic powers of magic initially through their sword-work.

She twirled and stamped, cut and thrust, and swished high and low so gracefully that one would be amazed that this was practically unconscious for the elf maiden to perform at that level. Her natural grace was evident and she so passionately warmed to her practice that she could even now feel the magical power swirl about her as a stream, caressing and touching upon her essence and then curling about her flashing blade. She felt the fire within her build in power and smiled to herself as the familiar feeling took hold.

As the elf sorceress stopped her exercise and brought herself back to a state of natural equilibrium with the powers, she became aware of someone watching her. Without turning she knew who it was.

Kit Leofmund had, for each of the previous three mornings of the journey, come to watch her practice. She had to admit that he was a persistent bastard, having rebuffed all advances the youth had made towards her.

Readying herself for another feeble attempt from the human boy to make charming conversation – something that she was sure her singing teacher Kenneth would find extremely amusing – she slowly turned around. To her amazement she saw that it was the older brother (by five minutes) Quarrel who watched her.

“I’m sorry,” she said, startled. “I was expecting to find your brother. His attempts at romance are somewhat tiresome…” She sighed and chuckled to herself. She wondered if all humans were as obsessed with sex as this youth of nineteen summers appeared to be.

Quarrel nodded. “He can be tiresome in his persistence. I’m afraid that the situation at home has done nothing to help curb these aspirations of his. The local lasses find him quite the charmer… though I don’t really know if it’s because he actually is charming or that he is the son of the baron.” He paused, looking at Aelyra in a somewhat expressionless way. “I think that the way you exercise is truly beautiful. Do you find that it is effective?”

Somewhat taken aback by this question, Aelyra replied, “Of course. My exercises keep me attuned to the cosmos and allow me to bring forth the magical energy that I need when I need it. The movements also provide me with a practical side in that my movement in combat tends to be most effective in my swordplay.”

“It’s just that I have always been raised that, when one takes up the sword then it is best to keep one’s mind on the business at hand. Quick and clean is what my masters taught me. Fancy and frippery doesn’t belong in a battle where men get killed at the flick of the wrist.”

“I can understand why you find my practice flamboyant,” said the elf, not sure exactly how to take the young man’s comments. “I guess that’s reasonable coming from a frontier region as you do, constantly fighting the denizens of the Dreadwood.” She felt that she had made her point rather well.

Quarrel just shrugged. “I guess so. I really wouldn’t know.”

“Surely you’ve seen elves in action before?” queried the bladesinger.

“Only sylvan elves. They tend not so much towards the blade as towards as towards the bow.” He hefted his longbow as he spoke. “Perhaps you may teach me more of your skills if – as we may soon find out – they are truly as effective as you say?”

Aelyra gave a short laugh. It seemed like quite a backhanded way of asking for assistance. This brother was much more mature in deportment than his twin but still had much to learn about the larger world beyond his father’s lands.

“Of course I could teach you,” she said, smiling slyly. “Of course you’d probably have a harder time of it and it might take longer than I did in achieving what little skill I have so far.” She began gathering her things and turned to make her way back to the campfire.

“I’m sure I could be a quick learner.”

“I am only just leaving my studies for the broader world myself. My teachers have seen fit to give me this journey as my first assignment.”

“And how long has it been that YOU’VE been practising this?” the man asked.

Aelyra tossed her answer over her shoulder as she walked past the ranger on her way back to the fire, “It’s only taken me seventy-five years to get as good as I am so far – but my blade-mistress Narlaure said that I had a natural talent for the blade. That is why she said I’ve been so quick to learn.”

Quarrel stared after her in a stunned silence. Then he turned and ran to catch up with her.

“Wait! Did you say seventy-five YEARS?”

***

The adventurers stood at the edge of the trail where it emptied into the clearing and approached the gates of the temple. Everything was as Gareth, Aelyra and Brother Larkin had left it… Even the gate was still slightly ajar.

Gareth breathed in and said, “I guess we should be watchful still, just in case.” He looked at the elder twin. “What to you think?”

Quarrel bit his lip slightly, eyes narrowed to try and assess the situation. This seemed to be when he should be able to put into practice all that old Raphael had taught him about sneaking and peeking. Kit was also on edge, seemingly thinking along the same lines. “I agree. Let us go and check things out first.”

Gareth nodded. Quarrel turned to his brother and as their eyes met he nodded and held up his hand, his fist closed except for his forefinger and little finger which he extended and pointed toward the gate.

Kit nodded and immediately branched off to one side of the gate, his bow ready with an arrow knocked to the string. He seemed to keep up a watchful on the gate as he moved. His brother started off low and quiet towards the other side of the gate. Unlike his brother, Quarrel’s eyes darted about, from the gate, to the ground to the surrounding area. Even still, both twins made it to the wall at exactly the same time on either side of the gate.

Kit immediately looped his bow about his shoulder and proceeded to take a small pole from his pack. He extended this pole until it reached the height of the wall and the flipped a small button at the base of the pole. Iron posts sprung out from the sides of the pole, about six inches long. Kit then placed the pole against the wall and quickly and quietly ascended the pole to just below the top of the wall. Then, with a brief glance over the wall, he was up and across pulling his makeshift ladder after him. He was inside.

***

Quarrel, upon hearing a slight signal from his twin brother on the other side of the wall signalled the others to come forward and then ducked through the gate. By the time Gareth, Aelyra and Brother Larkin arrived at the gate the brothers had already begun scouting out the courtyard.

All was as they had seen before in their first visit to the temple. Kit was now stealthily approaching the small rimmed well and while his ranger brother worked his way along the wall of the stable outbuilding.

Brother Larkin nudged Gareth. “Why didn’t we think to check those?”

Gareth turned to the cleric and whispered back, “I’m just as new at this as you are so don’t ask me.” Aelyra smiled to herself. These humans were so touchy some times.

Kit leaned low over the rim of the well and peered at the water. It was still lightly frozen, a thin sheen of ice crusting the surface. He brushed some snow off the edge of the ice and peered at the water. It was very dark but then the rising sun peeked over the wall and he could detect a slight irregularity in the shadows just beneath the water level.

He squinted slightly. Whatever that was it had to be man-made. It was straight and angular; not something that would appear in nature. Kit pushed his hand through the thin layer of ice and reached down. His fingers came in contact with something hard – metallic. He gripped it with his hand. It was firmly affixed to the wall. Peering in with the increasing light from the rising sun he just make out another similar shadow about a foot below the thing he was holding. He smiled and sat up. Most interesting!

Suddenly his thoughts were interrupted by a call from his brother. Quarrel had disappeared into the stable but he reappeared at the door and called to the others, “I think I’ve found something!” The other four gathered about him at the door to the stable.

“What is it?” asked the elf maiden.

“Do you remember how you had said you felt that there was something underneath the temple proper?” asked the woodsman.

“Yes…”

“Well, I think I’ve found a way into something underground.”

PART 3 – THE EVIL BENEATH

The group gave a startled gasp. Then Kit piped up; “I’ve found something as well.” He beamed at his brother, sneaking a slight sidelong glance at the pretty bladesinger to gauge her reaction.

Brother Larkin punched him on the shoulder, “Out wi’ it then lad. What ‘ave ye found?”

Kit glowered a little at the friar. He rubbed his shoulder, “Careful Brother Larkin. I’m not made of iron… but it seems the ladder I found set into the side of the well is.”

“Then there is definitely something underground here,” mused Gareth. The young knight furrowed his brow in thought. “Why would somebody put a ladder in the side of a well full of water?”

“That’s a good question,” said Aelyra. “Perhaps we should see what Quarrel has found. It might shed some light on the mystery.”

Quarrel nodded and guided the group over to the last stall against the far wall. It was larger than most but appeared to be the same as all the others.

His four companions looked at him quizzically.

“Look at the floor,” he said. “Do you notice anything odd?”

They looked at the floor. “Just straw,” said the knight.

“But what do you notice about the straw?”

Aelyra squinted her eyes a little. Then her eyes widened in surprise. “By all the years of my family!” she exclaimed. She reached her booted foot forward and nudged some of the straw with it. The straw didn’t move. “It appears that the straw has been glued to the floor somehow!”

Brother Larkin frowned at her. “But why would anyone glue straw to the floor?”

Gareth smiled at his friend. The friar was not always quick on the uptake. “Someone would glue the straw to the floor if the didn’t want it move… like when the floor moved.”

“And I think this floor…”

“…Does move,” said the twins. They had both crouched down and were carefully inspecting the edge of the floor of the stall. It seems they had detected the smallest of cracks running along the front edge of the stall.

They all turned and began inspecting the stall closer. Aelyra suddenly stopped from where she was checking the pillars on either side of the stall. She took her little utility knife from her belt and slid it into a crack at the side of the timber supporting the roof.

“What?” asked the twins, Gareth, and Brother Larkin all at once.

“It seems,” she said as she started to put pressure on the blade, “that this timber…” the wood started to groan and splinter, lifting away from the side of the timber, “…is hollow!” And with that the wood gave out with a crack and she pried a piece of board away from the timber, which was indeed hollow.

Inside the hollow timber the group saw two greased ropes running vertically up and down it. The elf leaned forward and peered up and down the revealed shaft.

“I think there is a pulley system in here of some sort.” She reached in and grasped a rope, giving it a sharp pull. The floor of the stall, where the boys had been examining it, gave a small creak and the entire front slab of stone tilted back slightly, raising roughly an inch from the level where it met the floor of the rest of the stable.

The five looked at each other. Then Gareth gave Aelyra a hand and together they pulled on the ropes. The rope moved smoothly and relatively quietly as they tugged; the floor of the stall tilting back further and further until a ramp leading down was revealed. The floor of the stall now resembled the lid of an open box and they were looking down a ramp the sloped down and turned slightly to the left. At the far end of the ramp there appeared to be a small light coming from somewhere, as from a torch or lantern or something.

Part of the mystery had been solved. Now another question lay before them. What was down there?

TO BE CONTINUED...

(But unfortunately, nothing else was ever written beyond this point.)

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