The second guard, whose name Flare now knew to be Bran, dug some snares out of his pack and headed for the woods but stopped when Thomas called after him. “Sir?” he said, turning back to the camp.
“Don’t set the snares tonight. We’ll be in the fort tomorrow.”
The game was plentiful in these woods and every night the guards would set the snares near camp and the next morning they would have captured some rabbits, squirrels, or other small animals. There wasn’t any reason to mess with the traps tonight though, as there would be plenty of supplies at Mul-Dune.
Flare lay on the ground and slowly felt the hope draining away. He couldn’t believe that this was to be the way his journey ended. After several hours, the guards went to sleep, except for Jordan who was standing the first watch, and Flare continued to wrestle with despair. He had never wanted to restore the Dragon Order, in fact he had feared the very thought, but now that he had actually began to understand the truth of the Order, the decision was being taken from him.
Around midnight, he began to resist the despair and he started getting angry. These fools didn’t know what they were doing and he would be damned if he was going to meekly walk to the gallows. Tomorrow, he would walk through the gates of Fort Mul-Dune with his head held high and he would continue to try and escape all the way to Telur. Even when he was in a prison cell under the Church, he wouldn’t give up. There had to be a way. Sooner or later, something would happen and he would have a chance. He was determined not to miss his opportunity. This new sense of determination brought him a feeling of peace and he idly wondered how long it would be before his opportunity presented itself. With the despair gone, or at least minimized, he drifted off to sleep.
The attack came just before dawn. A surprised shout woke Flare from a deep sleep, the first good sleep he had enjoyed in a while. He sat bolt upright and the cords that bound his hands, dug into his wrists.
Bran was the guard and it had been his shout that awoke the three around the fire.
Flare could see Bran standing to the northeast of the fire. He was maybe twenty yards from the others and he had his sword in his hand. The guard kept his back to the fire and was trying to run backwards, trying hard to get closer to the others. It didn’t take long for Flare to see why.
There were creatures entering the clearing from the trees to the north. The sun was not quite up and it was difficult to make the attackers out, but Flare was half-elven and his sight was better than a human’s. The creatures were basically human shaped, but they were shorter and covered in a thick brownish-black fur. They ran hunched over and their long arms nearly reached the ground. In fact, several of the creatures looked to be running on all fours. Their faces were hideous. They had long protruding jaws, wicked looking fangs, and deep set eyes. Once they had been spotted, they gave up trying to be sneaky and screamed shrill cries. Their speed picked up and they ran straight at the camp. Flare counted six of the brutes.
Thomas and Jordan sprang from their blankets like any soldier would, drawing their swords and moving up in front of the fire.
Bran was nearly back to the others, when the first creature reached him. The guard slashed at the monster and the sword bite deep. The creature howled and jerked away, twitching as it fell to the ground. Bran had swung too hard. The sword stuck deep in the bone and as the creature fell, the sword was jerked from his hand. The guard didn’t even try and retrieve it, instead, he turned and ran towards the fire. He never made it though.
A creature launched itself at the guard’s back and hit him hard, knocking him to the ground. Bran was still too far from the fire for the others to reach him and it probably wouldn’t have done any good. The monster began tearing at the guard’s back with its fangs and claws. Bran screamed, but not for long.
Another of the creatures stopped and joined the first in ripping chunks of flesh from Bran’s corpse. One of the creatures was dead and two more were distracted by the dead guard, leaving only three to advance on the fire.
Flare began to suspect that the creatures were not very intelligent. They had the numbers to overwhelm the remaining three warriors but they had split up and only half even seemed concerned with the three living humans.
Everything to this point had happened in a flash, but now the three attackers approached slowly.
“You take the one on the left,” Thomas said quietly to Jordan, “I got the two on the right.”
Flare didn’t doubt for a moment that the monk was capable of killing the two creatures, he was good with a sword and he knew how to use sorcery. Regardless, Flare didn’t wait to see the outcome. With the guards distracted, he began crawling frantically towards the fire. He had one goal, retrieve Ossendar and escape.
He stopped just short of the fire and rose up on his knees. Jordan’s pack was to his left and Bran’s was to the right. He ignored them. He knew that Thomas had been carrying Ossendar and it was to his pack that Flare looked. Every day when they trudged through the woods, he could see Ossendar strapped to the side of Thomas’ pack, he suspected the monk hung it there just to taunt him.
Thomas had been sleeping on the northern side of the fire, the side opposite from where Flare was, and it didn’t take long to locate the man’s pack.
The three creatures had reached the two humans and the unmistakable sounds of a fight came from the north. Flare ignored them and moved with panic driven fear. This might be his best chance at escaping and he meant to take advantage of the situation.
Stumbling forward, he nearly burnt himself on the edge of the fire but he soon reached the pack. He quickly rolled the pack over, but the sword wasn’t there. He stared in disbelief for a moment before he looked up to where the fight was going on. The original three creatures were dead, but the other two had joined the fray. Both humans were still alive but Jordan’s left arm was a bloody mess. Flare glanced to see how Thomas was doing and froze. Ossendar was strapped to the monk’s right thigh. He must have been sleeping that way, as there hadn’t been enough time when the creatures attacked for Thomas to strap the sword on.
Damn! Flare thought furiously. Undoubtedly, the monk knew that Flare was going to try and escape and he had kept the sword close.
Flare wasted only a moment gazing at Ossendar. The sword was out of reach at the moment, but he still needed to take advantage of the situation.
Grabbing Thomas’ pack, Flare quickly opened it and looked inside. He wasn’t sure what he hoped to find, perhaps a knife that he could use to slice his bonds. He dumped the pack on the ground and began pushing the contents around. The first thing he came across were some provisions and spare clothes. He quickly shoved them to the side with barely a glance. Next, Flare was surprised to see the spare clothes from his pack, they had been taken from him when he had been captured. He paused only a moment before one of the attacking creatures screamed and urged Flare onward. He didn’t even risk a glance to see how the battle was going. Shoving his own clothes to the side, Flare’s heart sank as he saw the remaining contents of Thomas’ pack; two small prayer books.
There was another scream and Flare did look up this time. He raised his eyes just in time to see the last monster fall to the ground. Thomas was standing with his back to Flare and it appeared that the monsters hadn’t even managed to touch the monk. Jordan was another matter. The guard’s left arm was a bloody mess and it hung loosely by his side. There were also several bloody slashes across the guard’s chest and some deep cuts on his face and neck. It was surprising that the guard was still standing.
Frantically, Flare thought of going for one of the guard’s packs but he seriously doubted he had that much time. He began casting his eyes back through the contents of Thomas’ pack when he heard Jordan’s voice.
“Sir! The prisoner!”
It was at that moment that Flare’s eyes fell on his clothes that Thomas had confiscated. When he pushed the clothes away, they had rolled apart and revealed something wrapped up in the middle. It was the old and rather worn pouch that Flar
e had found in the mountains. It was so much more than just a pouch though. It was a doorway. Without wasting a moment, Flare dove for the pouch. Fear seized him, fear that he would be too slow, fear that Thomas would stop him. His heart was pounding and his breathing was frantic.
Flare landed hard on the ground and grabbed for the pouch. He could heard a muffled cry and he knew it came from Thomas, but he didn’t bother looking. He flipped the cover open and slipped a finger inside. There was a blinding flash and the ground seemed to drop away from beneath him.
Chapter 8
Flare hit the ground and rolled over in pain. Damn floor was awfully hard, but that wasn’t surprising since it was stone. It took a moment to realize that he had escaped Thomas and the other agents of the Church and then he began to laugh. His laugh quickly degenerated into a cough and he cut off. The pouch was a doorway and led to this castle. A powerful wizard had used his craft to transport a castle to a place in between the worlds. The reason was simple, while time did pass for those at the castle, they did not age as long as they were in between worlds.
He opened his eyes and it took several moments before the wall in front of him came into focus. He was still staring at it when a woman’s voice spoke from behind him.
“I did not think it would take you this long to return.”
He wasn’t quite sure but he thought there was a hint of anger in her voice. Rolling over, Flare looked up into the face of Diana. Her husband had been the wizard responsible for this castle, but he had died centuries before on a trip back to the normal world.
Diana was an attractive woman. She was around forty years old, with some slight wrinkling around her eyes. Her hair was long and luxurious, a beautiful brown. Some of her natural beauty was missing now, as her features were twisted in anger. She wasn’t even looking at him, but instead was staring at a spot on the wall.
Confused, Flare wondered what he could have done to anger Diana. She had seemed happy and content when he left her last time. Then a thought occurred to him. When he had left here last time, they had just slept together and then he had returned to the normal world and been gone for weeks. She probably thought he had been avoiding returning out of choice.
“Uh,” Flare said, not really sure what to say.
Diana turned her gaze on him and her eyes opened wide at the sight of the ropes and his general appearance. “What happened to you?” she demanded. The anger disappeared and was replaced by concern.
“I was captured by agents of the Church,” Flare answered, “one of them is a monk who can use sorcery and he carries a sword.”
Diana’s forehead wrinkled in confusion. “I thought you said the Church hates sorcerers.”
“They do,” Flare agreed, “but apparently they hate me more.” He held up his bound hands in front of him. “A little help, please.”
She took a step forward, caught sight of the medallion around Flare’s neck, and froze. Her eyes widened again and her right hand unconsciously went to her throat. “Where did you get that?” she asked, her voice barely louder than a whisper.
Flare took a deep breath. “The same monk that captured me also put this around my neck. It’s pure torture when I try and use sorcery.”
She nodded. “I know.”
It took a moment for the words to penetrate. “What do you mean you know?” Flare asked. “Do you know what this thing is?”
“Yes,” Diana answered somewhat confused, “don’t you?”
Flare shook his head. “No. I’ve never heard of anything like it.”
Diana was silent for a moment and then started speaking quietly. “When I was studying to become a sorcerer, an apprentice was required to travel to the tower of Rayamandor. The last step for an apprentice to become a sorcerer was to pass certain tests. Once those tests were completed, the council would place this medallion around the apprentice’s neck.” She paused and glanced at the medallion again. “Or at least one very much like it. The apprentice was commanded not to use sorcery until told otherwise.” The council knew that sooner or later the apprentice would use sorcery and experience the pain of the medallion.” She took a deep breath, “Well do I remember when I tried. The pain was unbelievable.” She noticed Flare’s look of confusion, “It wasn’t a test. Rather it was a demonstration of the power of the medallion. The medallion was the worst punishment that the council could bestow on a sorcerer.”
“You can take it off of me, can’t you?” Flare asked a little worried. If this was the worst punishment for a sorcerer, then did that mean that it was impossible to remove? Early on, he had tried to remove it, but it had nearly burnt his hands when he touched the cool metal of the medallion.
Diana smiled, sensing the anxiety in Flare’s words. “Relax. It only works if placed around the neck of a sorcerer by another sorcerer, but any sorcerer can remove it as well.” Then she stepped around behind Flare and he felt her hands fighting the small clasp on the back of the metal necklace. After a moment it came loose and Diana removed the medallion from around his neck.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Flare closed his eyes and reached out to use his spirit. Immediately his senses seemed sharpened all the aches and pains of his body receded. He smiled and opened his eyes. He was somewhat taken aback by Diana. She was staring at the medallion and studying it closely.
Flare opened his mouth to ask her again to cut his bonds, but then he remembered he didn’t need to. Instead he directed his spirit and something like air sliced through the bonds and the ropes fell away.
Pushing himself shakily to his feet, Flare stood there for a moment just rubbing his wrists. A good six inches of his forearms were red and enflamed.
He looked back at Diana and she was still studying the medallion. “Is everything all right?” he asked.
Diana looked up from the medallion and smiled. “Yes, everything is fine. I just haven’t seen one of these is so long.”
“I hope to never see another one as long as I live,” Flare said. “Why do you have fond memories of the damn thing?”
Diana laughed, looking happy. “It’s not exactly fond memories. It’s just that this is something from when I was part of your world, something I never expected to see again. It just reminds me of when I was much younger.” The happiness seemed to fade away, and she looked more melancholy. Her eyes came back to Flare again and she studied him for a moment and then she gasped. “Where’s Ossendar?”
Gritting his teeth, Flare didn’t answer immediately. “The monk still has it,” he finally answered. “I have to go back.”
“But you can’t,” Diana said quickly. “If you return now, then the disorientation will put you right back in their hands.”
That thought had already occurred to Flare as well, but he couldn’t see any other choice. “I’ll just have to risk it,” he said. “I can not leave the sword in their hands.”
“Hold a moment,” Diana said. “These monks are desperate to capture you?” she asked. Flare nodded and she continued, “Well, surely they won’t leave the area? After all, they expect that you are in the immediate vicinity.”
“Perhaps,” Flare agreed, “but it’s also possible that they will take the sword to the Church will all possible haste. They know that I must come for it.”
Diana nodded, “You must at least take a weapon with you.”
“I have my sorcery,” Flare said, still reveling in the enhanced senses, “it will do.”
“Oh yes,” Diana replied with a touch of mockery in her voice. “Sorcery will be your weapon, a weapon that you undoubtedly will not even be able to use immediately upon your return.”
“Well, what do you recommend?” Flare demanded, his anger getting the best of him. “I cannot just stay here.”
“No,” Diana agreed, “but neither should you charge foolishly off without planning or considering another’s council.” Her tone had gone a little cool.
With some difficulty Flare reigned in his anger. “My apologies. I just can’t stand the thought of Ossendar in
their hands.”
Diana nodded. “Come. Let’s eat something and get you a sword.” She took Flare by the arm and began steering him out of the room.
“Is that a good idea?” Flare asked. He still remembered his last trip away from here and he had been glad that his stomach had been empty. “I’m not sure that I should eat before returning.”
“Trust me,” Diana answered calmly. “I have a plan.”
Diana led him up several flights of stairs and they soon reached a small room with a table covered in food. Despite her earlier anger, she must have ordered the food as soon as she knew Flare was returning. She must have assumed they would smooth out the disagreement.
At the sight of the food, Flare felt his stomach growl. The breads, vegetables, and thoroughly cooked meats all appealed to him. It seemed that he hadn’t eaten anything but hard biscuits and roasted rabbit in forever. He felt his mouth watering and was pleased that he had listened to Diana’s advice. He moved over and began helping himself.
Diana rang a small bell and young woman appeared almost immediately. The woman was a maid of some sort and she stood in the doorway with her eyes down.
“Get some clothes for Master Flare,” Diana said and the woman turned and hastened to obey. “And send a boy to the armory to fetch Flare a broadsword,” Diana called out after the girl.
Flare wanted to eat everything on the table but he forced himself to show some restraint. He had to travel back to his world and he didn’t want his best attack move to be vomiting on the monk.
Retrieving something from a cabinet along the wall, Diana walked over and sat down next to Flare, facing him. She uncorked a small bottle and poured a liquid into her left hand. She then set the bottle back on the edge of the table and began rubbing the liquid between her hands. “Hold your arms out,” she commanded.
Into the Wastelands: Book Four of the Restoration Series Page 8