Into the Wastelands: Book Four of the Restoration Series

by Williams, Christopher

  Slowly the five men relaxed, although Quinn and Jerrold kept their knives out.

  “What did you do?” Heather asked.

  “I tried to contact Dagan,” Agminion answered. Then a thought hit him and he stared at their captors. “You sensed me using sorcery? But how, you’re not sorcerers?”

  At that, a piece of the puzzle clicked into place for Heather. Earlier, when Jerrold and Warren had been searching for them, Agminion had used sorcery to check on the location of the other three. That bit of sorcery had alerted Warren and Jerrold to exactly where they had been hiding.

  Warren ignored Agminion’s question and asked one of his own, “Who has claimed Ossendar?”

  For a moment, she considered refusing to answer until they told her who they were, but judging from their reactions, that would probably be a bad idea. “It was claimed by Flaranthlas Eldanari. Do you know who he is?” Warren shook his head so Heather added, “He’s a half-elven prince and a former member of the Guardians. The king of Telur sent him to get the sword. Flare returned with the sword and then, for some reason, he fled taking Ossendar with him.”

  “And this Flare, does he know magic?”

  Suppressing a shiver, Heather nodded. “He has been taught some magic and sorcery as well.”

  Warren tilted his head, “You speak as if you know him.”

  Heather nodded, “I do.” Or at least I thought I did, she thought. “I too am a member of the Guardians. He was my friend.”

  “Was?”

  Taking another deep breath, Heather nodded. “I’m not sure what to think about him stealing the sword, and I don’t know how this all relates to Kelcer.”

  Warren smiled, “What you really mean is that you don’t know if you will allow this Flare to fulfill the prophecy.”

  This bastard’s sharp, Heather thought and then she nodded, “I have not decided what I will do with the armor. I won’t, I can’t make that decision until I’ve talked with Flare.”

  Warren nodded in thought.

  “I’ve answered your questions,” Heather said calmly. “Would you mind answering a few of mine?”

  After a moment of thought, Warren nodded again. “We are guardians of a sort.” Noting Heather’s look of surprise, he continued quickly, “Not Guardians like you, we simply guard this area, and more importantly, the mine. We try to keep the goblins away,” he added with a grimace. “They view the whole wastelands as cursed and it helps scare them off. At least under normal circumstances, but we’re not living in normal times, are we?”

  “No,” Heather agreed. “I’m not familiar with this mine.”

  “The ancient Faerum were closely allied with the dwarves and there was usually a dwarven outpost near a Faerum settlement.”

  “The dwarves?” Heather repeated surprised, “allied with the Faerum?”

  “That surprises you?” Warren asked smiling.

  “Yes it does,” Heather answered. Ancient history was not something she knew much about, that was more of Dagan’s specialty. “They seem so different, or at least as they have been portrayed.”

  “And how is that?”

  “Well, the dwarves are supposed to be stoic and the Faerum were supposedly…” she trailed off, not sure how best to phrase the wording.

  “Silly and irresponsible?” Warren offered.

  “I guess so. And those two races were allied closely?” Perhaps the silliness of one was offset by the gruffness of the other. “So this dwarven mine was overrun when Saprasia fell?”

  “Yes.”

  Heather hesitated before asking her next question, “There are humans out there driving the goblins to search the mine for Nerandall. Why do they suspect the armor is there?”

  “Because it is,” Warren answered calmly.

  “How do you know this?” Heather asked.

  “I know this because it is my responsibility to guard it.”

  Heather snorted, “You’re not doing too well at that, are you?”

  Warren didn’t move but the other four all shifted. Jerrold was glaring at Heather again.

  “Not as well as I would like,” Warren agreed with a sigh. “The goblin numbers are too great for us to drive them out. So we harass them. They think this area is haunted and cursed and so they think we’re ghosts.”

  Heather nodded, “And some of them try to flee,” she said, remembering the prisoners from earlier tonight.

  “Yes, but not enough. The bastard who is in command is an evil pig. I think the goblins are more scared of him than they are of ghosts.”

  Heather didn’t doubt that. Ghosts might could kill you, but even so it would hopefully be quick. If the goblins were caught fleeing, then they suffered a slow horrible death. “How do you know where the armor is?”

  “As I’ve already said, it is my job to guard it,” he paused and then continued, “long ago, it was kept in a barrow way down the mountain side. It was moved to the mine generations ago, because the goblins are even more scared of the mine than the rest of the wastelands.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Because when it was destroyed, large parts of it were rigged to collapse at the last possible moment. An unbelievable number of goblins died in the mine. They don’t want to go anywhere near it.”

  “And how do they know the armor is there?” Heather asked.

  Warren winced. “One of our number was captured and interrogated. Before he died, he told them the armor was hidden in the mine. Thank Nephur he didn’t know where it was hidden.”

  Silence descended for several long moments and then Warren asked, “Do you know these humans who command the goblins?”

  “I’ve seen them before,” Heather answered with a nod. “They were at Fort Mul-Dune when it was attacked. At least three of them were, I don’t remember the fourth one, the smaller man.” She quickly related the events that had taken place at Mul-Dune and even described Zalustus to them. The men looked grave as she spoke.

  “Things are farther along than we knew,” Warren said quietly. “Does Flare have the shield and helmet?”

  Heather blinked in surprise. It was not common knowledge that Ossendar was not the only sign marking the one that Kelcer had foreseen. In addition to carrying Ossendar, there was the helmet of Ashteroth, the armor called Nerandall, and the dwarven shield called Ocklamoor. She shook her head, “I don’t think so. We don’t know where the shield is and,” she paused, taking a deep breath, “we believe Zalustus has the helmet.” An idea occurred to her and she hesitated only a moment before plunging ahead. “Surely you see why the armor is no longer safe in the mine. Zalustus’ men are searching for it and it must be moved.”

  “Moved?” Jerrold repeated. “Perhaps, but not by you. We are its keepers. We will decide what needs to be done.”

  “Jerrold,” Warren said calmly, “Do not forget yourself.”

  The words had an instant calming affect on Jerrold. He immediately bowed his head, “My apologies.”

  Warren waited a moment but there were no more outbursts coming. “And what would you do if you had the armor? Would you take it to Telur?”

  Heather shook her head. “I’m not sure what we would do but I do know that we would not go to Telur. Ever since Flare stole Ossendar, we have been outlaws as well.”

  “So would you take it to another kingdom then, or perhaps give it to Flare?”

  She considered for a moment and then shrugged. “I do not know,” she answered honestly.

  “My lord,” Jerrold said cautiously, “surely you’re not suggesting giving the armor to them?” He kept his tone respectful, but nevertheless he sounded scandalized.

  “No, but we all agree that the armor can not fall into the hands of this Zalustus.” Warren paused for a moment and then pushed on, “Tell me, if I could get you into the mine, would you help us rescue the armor?”

  “You need our help?” Heather asked surprised. Surprise atop surprise. It was curious that these men needed their help, but it was even more curious that Jerrold had calle
d Warren ‘My lord.’

  Looking slightly abashed, Warren nodded. “Our numbers are painfully low. You and your friends could help us.”

  She considered this proposal for a moment. There were plenty of things she liked about it. First, it would keep the armor from Zalustus. Second, it would keep the armor from the Church. She was almost ashamed to admit that the third thing she liked about it was that it would keep the armor from Flare. The big glaring problem was that she would not know its new hiding place. However, keeping Nerandall from the Church and Zalustus was of utmost importance. “I agree,” she said finally.

  “Heather, what are you doing?” Agminion asked, his eyes bulging slightly.

  “I’m keeping Nerandall from Zalustus and the Church.”

  Chapter 20

  The ball was rather uninteresting, at least in Prince Aldon’s opinion. It was just a bunch of nobles fawning all over the Crown Prince; Prince Barrett.

  Aldon didn’t much like his brother. The boy had been spoiled ever since he was young and had turned into an arrogant young man. Aldon had been surprised when his father picked Barrett to be the new Crown Prince after Prince Darion had died. He still didn’t understand the reasoning behind the move. Technically, as the oldest living son, the responsibility should have fallen to him, but, for some unknown reason, King Darion had chosen Barrett. The choice was all the more startling, because Barrett seemed assured of being a total disaster as king.

  Aldon was pleased that the responsibility had not fallen to him, but he wished his father would explain the reasoning behind the decision. He secretly wondered if the nobles had refused to follow him because of his service in the army. Nobles were used to diplomacy and perhaps they feared that Aldon would try and rule with an iron fist. Whatever the reason, Barrett had been chosen as the Crown Prince and that was the end of it, or so he had thought. It had taken Barrett less than a day to royally mess things up.

  First, Flare had scaled the tower and stolen Ossendar. Aldon sighed at that. He had met his adopted brother on several occasions and liked him fairly well. He desperately hoped that Flare wasn’t trying to restore the Dragon Order. Although he could think of no other reason to steal that god-awful sword.

  Secondly, and directly due to the theft of Ossendar, Ontaria had called off the engagement of Prince Barrett with the Princess Emily. This had weakened Telur in many eyes, including some of its own nobles. Something would have to be done about Ontaria, but it would have to wait for a more advantageous time. Currently, Dalar and Ontaria had withdrawn their forces from Telur’s southern border, but this was due to a widespread fire that burned the foreign armies’ supply houses. Strangely, the rumor was that it had been done by a dragon. Regardless, two other kingdoms, Natesh and Molain, still had their armies along Telur’s eastern border.

  His thoughts were interrupted by a very beautiful woman stepping up and blocking his path. She was in her early forties with long brown hair that hung to her waist. She was slim but was showing a little weight around her middle. Her eyes were brown, and she had a smooth face and high cheekbones with only some small lines around the creases of her eyes to tell her age.

  “Countess Lells,” Aldon said with a formal bow, “how pleasant it is to see you again.” It was partially true; she was pleasant enough to look at, but he was wary of the woman. As in all royal courts, there were plenty of rumors; and this woman had more than her fair share.

  Hannal Lells smiled and curtsied. Her dress was slightly too large for her and her bosom nearly popped out during the curtsy. She straightened up quickly and smiled at Aldon who, for his part, was trying not to stare at the woman’s breasts. “My prince, it truly has been far too long since we saw each other.”

  “Uh, yes,” Aldon managed after a moment. “Is there something that I can do for you, Countess?”

  The countess moved up beside Aldon and took him by the arm. She began leading him toward the double doors, which led to the palace grounds. “Oh, please don’t be so formal.”

  Aldon was unsure of exactly what was going on, but he let himself be led through the doors and into the garden.

  After a brief and silent walk, Hannah stopped and turned to the prince. She stood on her tiptoes and pulled him down to kiss her.

  Somewhat surprised, Aldon didn’t resist and soon found himself enjoying the kiss. As a prince, he was used to having women pushing themselves on him, and to be honest, he rather enjoyed it. However, most of those women were much younger and looking to secure themselves a prince for a husband. He did not believe that was the Countess’ intention.

  After another moment, Hannah broke the kiss but remained standing against Prince Aldon. She rested her head on his chest and said, “Why don’t we go somewhere where we can be alone?”

  Aldon grinned at her, “And where would that be?”

  Hannah returned the grin, “My palace is not far.” She took him by the hand and led him into the darkness.

  Several hours later, Hannah left her bedchamber. She walked quickly through the house, her nightgown thin and revealing. It only took her several moments and she reached the study. She opened the door and stepped in quickly.

  The study was a large room and bookcases covered every inch of wall. A single fireplace rested on the western wall and two windows looked to the north. A large wooden desk sat between the two windows and several couches and chairs were scattered around. A man sat at the desk with his feet up. He did not stand as she entered but he did watch her closely.

  “Well Countess? How did it go?”

  Despite her nightgown being rather revealing, Hannah made no move to cover herself. “As well as could be expected. After we had sex I slipped Aldon several elixirs in his wine. The elixirs were made by a magician and had the affect of making him very agreeable.”

  “So he answered your questions?” the man asked.

  Hannah nodded, “Yes. He has absolutely no idea where Flare is and he believes that the king doesn’t know either.”

  The man took a deep breath and he looked less than pleased. “And you believe him?”

  Hannah nodded again, “I’ve had excellent luck with this particular type of questioning.” She smiled, “It seems that men are already disorientated after sex and the elixir intensifies the feeling. I have not had a man lie to me yet, nor have they ever been able to conceal things from me.” It was a true enough statement and she regretted never having tried this method with Flare; they had been so sure that he wasn’t the one.

  “Does the prince know why Barrett was chosen as the Crown Prince?”

  Hannah shook her head, “No. He suspects that some of the nobles may have refused to follow him, since he is in the army,” she paused and then continued, “Aldon has a very low opinion of Barrett.”

  The man snorted, “As do I.”

  “How do you want me to proceed?” Hannah asked, patiently.

  “Will he remember any of this when he wakes?”

  Hannah smiled, “Only that he had the best sex of his life. I can instill a desire for more, if you like.” She paused and the man didn’t answer, “Angaria? Would you like me to try and turn Aldon into my puppet?”

  Angaria waved his hand, “Of course. See to it.”

  Hannah hesitated, but after a moment with no more instructions she turned and left the room.

  Angaria continued sitting at the desk for several long moments. He had so hoped that either Aldon or the King would know where to look for Flare, but that seemed a futile wish now. The High Priest was growing impatient and that didn’t bode well for him. Perhaps that whore Hannah could make use of Prince Aldon, but Angaria was beginning to suspect that he wouldn’t be around long enough to see it.

  Chapter 21

  Flare broke through the surface of the water and stood there, bobbing in the water and shaking slightly. His mind was trying to absorb nearly eighty years of memories and his body only recognized that a few short heartbeats had passed. It was rather disorientating, but not as bad as the first time. T
rue, his head was throbbing but it paled when compared to his initial journey to Sha’al. He took a deep breath and then another. The pain was already starting to ebb.

  He grasped the edge of the pool and pulled himself out of the water. He waited another moment and then hesitantly pushed himself to his feet. There was a brief moment of vertigo, which soon passed, and then he felt well enough to dress.

  A soft footfall was his only warning. He turned and had to dive back to avoid being gutted by an axe. Before he could even see who had attacked him, another body hit him hard and they both fell to the ground.

  The second attacker began pummeling him with blows and whoever it was hit like a mule. A particularly hard blow landed to Flare’s midsection, and he felt the air forced from his lungs.

  Using his spirit, Flare threw his attacker away from him. He heard a splash as his assailant landed in one of the pools.

  The first attacker, the one with the axe, jumped forward and brought the axe down in a massive overhand blow. The axe slammed into something a foot above Flare’s head. There didn’t appear to be any reason for the axe to have stopped, but the axe rebounded off of an invisible barrier. Flare had made a shield of spirit and used it to save himself from being split in two.

  Dismissing the shield, Flare yanked the stone bench from across the room and slammed it down on the axe-man. He crumpled and there were several snaps and pops that sounded dangerously like bones breaking.

  Climbing to his feet, Flare looked down at the remains of the axe-man, or perhaps axe-dwarf was more correct. Both of his attackers were dwarves.

  The other attacker, the one that Flare had thrown across the room into a pool, was not moving. He was just floating on the top of the water. His head was bent at an unusual angle, most likely from having hit the side of the pool.

  The door behind him burst open and Flare spun and dropped into a fighting stance. His two dwarven guards rushed in and stopped, staring open-mouthed at the scene. Slowly Flare relaxed. These two did not appear to be in on the attack.