The grin slid from Thomas’ face and he became more serious. “I wasn’t about to leave him for the animals. I buried him just inside the tree line. Adel willing, it’ll keep the buzzards and such from him.”
Silence descended between them and Flare moved slowly across the road. He kept his sword pointed at Thomas the whole time.
“How did you escape?” Thomas asked. He still had not drawn his sword.
Pausing briefly in his approach, Flare considered refusing to answer, but dismissed that at childish. “The pouch is a doorway. When I stuck my hand in, it took me,” he paused searching for the right word, “away.”
Thomas shook his head, smiling ruefully. “In the end, I was beaten by something so insignificant.” He had barely finished speaking, when he yanked a concealed sword out from behind his right side and stabbed at Flare.
Flare hadn’t seen the attack coming, but with his sword out in front of him, it was still easy enough for him to deflect the blow.
Thomas backed away slightly and stepped onto the edge of the road. He held the sword with his right hand and a long knife with his left.
“Are you man enough to fight me without sorcery?” Thomas asked.
Flare grinned. “I know what you’re doing,” he answered. “You don’t actually think I’m foolish enough to give up the one advantage that I have, do you?”
“Made sense to try,” Thomas answered with a shrug. Once again, the monk had barely been done speaking when he charged. He swung his sword in a horizontal swing, which Flare blocked with his own sword and then the monk stabbed out viciously with the knife in his other hand.
It would have been the death of him, but Flare reacted instinctually and blocked the knife with sorcery. There wasn’t anything between them, but the knife, and Thomas’ hand, stopped as if they had hit a stone wall.
Thomas gave a half-hearted slash with his sword and backed out of range again. He looked down and grunted. The knife blade had cracked, nearly shattering. He threw the useless weapon away and grasped his sword with both hands. He took a step close and jabbed the long sword.
Flare parried the blow, knocking Thomas’ sword down and to his right. Wanting to take advantage of Thomas’ momentarily being off balance, Flare reacted on instinct and punched out with his left hand. The blow landed on the right side of the monk’s face, causing him to stagger backwards.
Now it was Flare’s turn to press the attack. He stepped forward and slashed his swords downwards. Thomas managed to block the blow and both men momentarily lost their balance. Flare was in position to strike again, but Thomas used his own bit of sorcery to knock Flare away.
This was taking too long. If Jordan was making for Mul-Dune then every moment counted dearly. With a start, Flare realized he was out of breath. His long imprisonment was taking a toll on his body. Thomas had backed up and Flare realized the monk was just trying to delay him now. He was hoping to get all the extra time that he could for Jordan.
Flare took a deep breath and calmed himself. His heart was still beating furiously, but at least he got his fear and anxiety under control. This fight was little more than a delaying tactic and he didn’t have the time to waste. He knew what he had to do. This fight had to end, and it had to end quickly.
Raising the point of his sword again, Flare took a quick step towards Thomas. The monk raised his sword to a defensive posture and waited on the attack to come.
Flare leveled a massive overhand swing and Thomas blocked the blow. Jumping back quickly, Flare stabbed straight outward with his sword and at the same time he used his spirit to grab the other man’s sword. Thomas suddenly found his sword frozen in mid-air as he tried to deflect Flare’s sword.
Flare felt his sword slip between Thomas’ ribs and emerge out his back. The monk’s eyes widened and a trickle of blood ran down the side of his mouth. He opened and closed his mouth several times, like he was trying to talk but no sounds came forth. He stared at Flare with wide eyes, almost as if he was accusing Flare of cheating. It didn’t help that it felt like he had cheated.
Out of the distant past, a memory surfaced. A memory of his Guardian training. It had been the day he won the right to command his squad.
“Flare, what is the objective of a fight?” Sergeant Danlion had asked him.
He also remembered his response quite clearly; “To win, Sir!”
He waited another moment, watching Thomas die. The bastard had it coming, but the victory felt cheap, like Flare had been cheated out of the full affect of winning. After a moment he turned and jogged into the woods.
It was a little after mid-day when Flare killed Thomas and began his pursuit of Jordan. His last remaining captor was moving slowly, most likely due to the injuries he had received in the early morning battle. Nevertheless, Jordan most likely began his journey at least an hour ahead of Flare, which had to mean he was getting close to Mul-Dune.
Flare ran in a southeasterly direction and occasionally reached out with his spirit to verify Jordan’s progress. The guard was making slow but steady progress towards the fort. While Flare couldn’t yet sense those at the fort, there was a growing feeling whenever he reached out with his spirit. It was like he was standing in a dark room and a small but talkative crowd was approaching. He couldn’t see them and he really couldn’t hear them all that well, but the sound of their voices was growing.
He fought the urge to speed up and instead maintained the steady pace of his running. It wouldn’t do to catch Jordan only to pass out at the man’s feet. As it was, the mental and physical exhaustion of his captivity was weighing on him. His breathing was labored and he kept stumbling as he ran. Twice he tripped and fell, only to push himself back to his feet and continue his frantic run.
Continuing like this for over an hour, Flare began to despair of ever catching Jordan, even though the gap between the two men continued to shrink. There was absolutely no sign that Jordan knew he was being pursued.
The forests were still as thick as before. Few humans travelled this side of the mountains, and those that did come here obviously did not maintain any kind of roads or trails. Only by following Jordan’s trail did Flare avoid any need to backtrack. Still the thick underbrush pulled at his clothes and his arms were covered in minor cuts where stickers had latched on to him as he ran by.
He was soon sweating in the heat of the sun. It was truly a beautiful day. The sky was a clear blue and the sun shone down brightly. Birds flew overhead and squirrels and other small animals covered the trees. Whenever Flare checked on Jordan’s location, he also felt back the way he had come. The last thing he wanted was for some of the monsters that attacked them this morning to track him down.
After the first hour, Flare’s hopes began to rise. He knew he was getting closer. Ever time he checked Jordan’s position, the gap seemed to halve. He was nearing the other man, but Jordan was also nearing the fort.
A little over an hour and a half after starting his pursuit, Flare stopped momentarily and reached out to check on Jordan. He sensed that Jordan was less than half a mile away and Flare felt a grin begin spreading across his face. The elation quickly faded though as he sensed three other men approaching Jordan’s location.
The newcomers were coming from the general direction of Mul-Dune and they were moving at a slow un-hurried pace. “Must be on foot,” Flare muttered. He paused considering what to do and then moved quickly but silently forward. His desperate run was over and he took more time now, trading speed to remain quiet.
He checked again and realized that Jordan had stopped. It didn’t take long to realize why, the three men slowed and stopped in front of the guard.
Silently, Flare pushed his was through a thick wall of underbrush and looked down into a clearing. The ground here was sloping upwards from the west to the east and the mountains farther to the east towered over them. The sunlight glinted brightly off of the snow high up on the mountain top. The ground, while sloping upwards to the east, was not at an unbearable angle and was cover
ed by a thick layer of grass that was already a beautiful green. The trees were thinning and travelling would be undoubtedly easier, although it would also be much harder to stay hidden.
Flare looked in the direction that Jordan had been moving and realized with a start that he could see the walls of Mul-Dune. They were still far away but visible.
The ground dropped off sharply from where he stood, and the height gave him a good view of the forest to the west. The forest continued on for another couple of miles before they stopped at the edge of a massive river. He didn’t know what the river had been called, but he remembered it from his days at Mul-Dune. He had never seen it in person, but he had seen it drawn on the maps.
In the middle of the clearing, Jordan stood leaning against a boulder and looking around at the men who surrounded him. Even from Flare’s location, there was no mistaking the men for what they were - hunters. Most likely, these men trapped animals for their furs and brought the pelts to Mul-Dune to trade. He had seen their kind before. In his experience, they were always a rough lot. Swallowing hard, Flare looked around for any inspiration.
Nothing. Nothing occurred to him and he turned his attention back to the men. They were talking, but they were too far away for him to make out much. Seizing his spirit again, Flare focused again on the men and this time their words seemed to jump out at him.
“I am acting on orders of the High Priest, himself,” Jordan was saying, a note of anger in his tone.
“The High Priest you say,” the foremost of the men responded. “And exactly what did Dalin Olliston have you doing out here?” He was a big bear of a man, well over six feet tall and round. His face was covered by a shaggy beard that hung nearly to his chest. He carried a knife on his belt and an axe in his hand.
Hope blossomed within Flare as a new thought occurred to him. Perhaps these men might unknowingly do him a favor. If luck favored him, then perhaps these men just might be of the murdering thieving type. If they killed Jordan and took Ossendar with them into the forests, then he would be able to follow at a distance and retake the sword when the opportunity arose. At the very least, he wouldn’t need to fight in such an exhausted state.
Jordan stared at the leader of the hunters in disgust. “What my orders are is of no importance to you. How dare you question the actions of the Church?”
The leader grinned. It wasn’t a pretty grin. Several of the man’s yellowing teeth were missing and even the ones that remained looked rather disgusting. “Who said we’re questioning the Church?” He stopped long enough to spit a glob into the grass. “Just because you say you’re part of the Church, doesn’t make it so. You might even be a crook on the run from the law.”
Jordan scoffed at the very idea. He doubted if these three men were the honest law-abiding citizens they were pretending to be. If there was a criminal in these forests, he would bet his money on these three. He swallowed hard. Under more normal circumstances, he would just circumvent these men and if they tried to stop him, then he would kill them. Unfortunately, the circumstances weren’t normal. He was injured and tired from travelling all day. If it came to a fight, he didn’t see any way that he could take these men.
“Been hunting these woods for many years,” the leader said. He was still staring intently at Jordan. “Never seen anyone from the Church on this side of the mountains.” He glanced at his two cronies and chuckled. “Even those high ranking bastards at the Fort haven’t come down into the woods.”
It took a moment for the words to register, but then Jordan pounced. “What? What did you say?” He glanced at the walls of the fort way off in the distance. “Who’s at the fort?”
For the first time, the trapper looked somewhat taken aback. He studied Jordan for a moment before he answered. Perhaps he began to suspect that Jordan was telling the truth, because his tone was much different than before. It was less derisive and doubting, and instead it became more curious and cautious. “I don’t know who they are, but they sure have everyone at the fort treading carefully. The bars are closing early and the whorehouses aren’t even bothering to open.” It was clear from his tone that he was upset about both the bars and whorehouses.
Jordan glanced back the way he had come, scanning the trees for any signs of pursuit. Seeing nothing, he turned back to the hunters. He had an idea. It wasn’t one he particularly liked, but he didn’t have many options. He sighed deeply before he spoke. “How would you men like a reward?”
The three trappers eyed each other, looking confused. This conversation was not going the way they had expected.
“Go on,” the leader finally replied. “What do we have to do for this reward?”
Jordan grinned. He had them. He had learned a long time ago, that in order to get someone to do as you requested, you had to motivate them. Sometimes, discovering what it would take to properly motivate someone was the most difficult part of the process. In this case, it hadn’t been too difficult to determine what motivated these trappers – money. He nodded his head in the direction of the Fort. “I need to get to the fort quickly. I want you three to help me.”
“Help you?”
Looking around again, Jordan’s grin slipped from his face. This was taking entirely too long. He had to hurry it along. “The Church will give you each a thousand gold pieces,” he paused for a moment, trying to determine how best to phrase the rest of his offer, “plus, we’ll overlook any of your former sins.”
The leader stared for a moment. It was quite an offer, perhaps a little too good. “And you can arrange this?” The doubt was evident in the man’s tone.
Jordan knew at once that he had offered too much and he considered how best to regain the upper hand. After a moment he sighed. “I can guarantee this offer,” he paused, not wanting to say these next words, “because I’m carrying Ossendar to the Church.”
Flare let out a curse. His earlier hopes that the trappers would kill Jordan were long gone. Jordan had offered the one thing that would make these men fight for the Church – money. He could tell by their tones that it was just a matter of time now.
He turned his attention from the small group of men and focused instead on their surroundings. There had to be something that would allow him to regain Ossendar before they reached the Fort.
Searching the forest first, he found nothing. Some small animals and not much else. He expected to find precious few animals from here to the Fort. Animals knew better than to live too close to humans.
He was distracted by the sight of the four humans turning and walking towards Mul-Dune. They didn’t appear to be in a hurry and it took Flare a moment to figure out why. Then he spotted why they were moving so slow – it was Jordan. Between the man’s injuries and his journey through the forest and hills, he was exhausted.
Desperate now, Flare forced his spirit farther and farther outward, trying to find something, anything, that might help him. He could find nothing.
Finally, Flare gazed upwards into the heavens, hoping against hope for divine inspiration. He wasn’t exactly a believer in such things. It always seemed like the Gods like to pick and choose when they helped someone. Rarely, if ever, did divine assistance seem to occur when a person most needed help. With these thoughts running through his mind, and as he gazed at the mountains and sky above, it was then that his hope for divine inspiration was rewarded.
Jordan kept his distance from his new-found allies. He didn’t trust them and he didn’t like them. Any man that had to be paid to do what was right wasn’t worth having around. It was probably why these men lived so far from civilization to begin with.
He sneaked a look at the trappers and caught them watching him. Their earlier arrogance was gone. It had been replaced by something else – fear.
When Jordan had given in and told them that he carried Ossendar, he had been afraid that they just might leave him on his own. He could hardly have blamed them. Even crooks and criminals wanted nothing to do with Kelcer’s Destroyer. Evidently, the trappers’ love of mon
ey persuaded them to do the right thing. Jordan could tell that they were still unsure about helping him though. It was likely that at the first sign of trouble, the men would turn tail and run.
Jordan stumbled and nearly fell as a booming explosion rang out from over their heads. He managed to stay standing, but only with the help of a small tree, and turned to gaze upwards.
A little ways to the east of their current position, one of the mountains towered over them. The explosion had come from the top of the mountain, but Jordan could not, as of yet, see what had caused it.
He was still staring upwards, when a sound caught his attention. He turned, pulling his gaze from the mountain top, to see his three escorts running as fast they possibly could towards the forest.
Confused, Jordan turned back to the mountain and it was then that he understood. Fear and sadness welled up within as he stared upwards. Upwards at the mass of snow, ice, and rock that was flying down the mountain side.
There wasn’t time for him to run, not that it would have done any good anyway. Closing his eyes, he silently begged for the Lord Adel’s forgiveness for his failure. He was still silently praying when the rocks swept him away.
Flare watched in grim silence as the avalanche rolled over Jordan and his three new-found friends. The noise was unbelievable, even the ground seemed to shake. Jordan disappeared first, and he was followed quickly by the other three men. The snow and the rocks cut a wide path, just to the south of Flare’s position. Trees bent and were broken without even slowing down the rockslide. The slide continued for nearly a mile down the slope before it gradually slowed and stopped. It was not the ideal solution, but it did seem to have kept Jordan from reaching Mul-Dune with Ossendar.
The exhaustion once again threatened to overtake him and Flare leaned against a tree for support. He had so exceeded his body’s abilities, but there hadn’t been any choice. Using sorcery to cause the avalanche had just occurred to him and he had acted without hesitation. It had worked perfectly, encompassing all four men and eliminating any need for combat. As tired as he was, he wasn’t sure he could have defeated Jordan, let alone the three trappers.
Into the Wastelands: Book Four of the Restoration Series Page 10