King Aldric Thornhaven's Arc

Chapter 3 of 3

Aldric returned to the tapestry the next night with a heavy ring of keys. He had tried them all before, but he tried again. Behind the brass, the trapped man's cries had thinned to a dry whisper. Each failed key was a minute stolen from him. Aldric pulled a worn ledger from his coat. Every key he owned was listed inside, each one crossed out in his own hand. The brass lock stared back, its mechanism choked with thin thorny vines that twisted through the keyhole. No ordinary lock. No ordinary key would ever turn it. He pressed his palm to the warm metal and made himself face the truth. He could not open this alone. Somewhere beyond the castle walls lived a locksmith — an old man whose small stone workshop was known even to kings. Brass tools. Steady hands. The one craftsman who shaped locks nothing could break. Before dawn, Aldric rode out hooded and alone. He found the workshop by its bright windows and its sign. He knocked. When the locksmith opened the door, Aldric pushed the ledger into his hands and offered gold, then more gold, then a threat. The old man studied the pages. He asked no questions about the door. He only nodded once and gathered his tools into a leather roll. He would come at dusk. Aldric rode back with the ledger pressed to his chest. He had bought a way through the brass. He had also bought a second pair of eyes on the only secret that mattered. The whisper behind the lock would soon be answered — but now another living soul would know exactly where the trapped man lay.