Into the Wastelands: Book Four of the Restoration Series

by Williams, Christopher

  “Is that a good thing?” Enton asked.

  “Better than the alternative,” Flare answered immediately. “You do not want to see the Order restored under Zalustus.”

  Dagan gasped and all eyes turned towards him. “Do you remember what the King of Aramonia said to us? He said his grandfather thought the Kelcer prophecy might be about two men.” His eyes were wide and a grin spread across his face. “The old man might of had it right after all.”

  Flare looked from face to face. In some there were cautious hope, but doubt and fear still resided in others, until he reached Warren, who was grinning like a fool. He continued to watch this unknown person and then he reached out with sorcery, trying to learn more about this man.

  Warren’s smile disappeared, “What are you doing?” he asked.

  Flare didn’t answer but kept right on trying to discern who or what this man was. One thing became clear real quick. “What are you?” he asked.

  Warren swallowed hard, “My name is Warren. I am the sworn protector of these lands.”

  Flare snorted and looked back to the passage where the goblins had fled. “Haven’t been doing too good a job, have you?”

  Warren colored a little and Jerrold frowned mightily.

  “However, I didn’t ask who you are, but what you are.”

  The Guardians and the dwarves were paying close attention now. They all stared from Flare to Warren and back again.

  “Flare,” Heather said cautiously, “Warren helped us get here.”

  Flare helped up a hand to silence Heather. Although irritated in being treated in such a manner, she held her tongue.

  “You are not human, nor are you elven,” Flare said slowly. “So I repeat my earlier question; what are you?”

  Jerrold’s hand had slid down to rest on the hilt of his sword but Warren knocked his hand away. “None of that,” he said to his lieutenant. Turning his gaze back to Flare, he said, “I will explain all in a moment, but may I first see Ossendar?”

  Flare’s head tilted a bit and for a moment he thought of all the people who had tried to steal the blade from him.

  Warren must have sensed Flare’s uneasiness because he spoke quickly. “I don’t mean to hold the sword, but I would like to see it.”

  Seeing no harm in this request, Flare held Ossendar horizontal in front of him. Warren approached quickly and looked the blade over. Finally he stepped back and smiled.

  “It really is Ossendar. I feared that I would die before this day came.”

  Warren’s statement made Flare remember the dwarven king’s words that were similar but reversed, ‘I always hoped that this day would not come while I yet lived.’

  “Alright, you’ve seen the sword. Now, tell me who and what you are,” Flare said, putting Ossendar back in its sheath.

  “My name is Warren Orina and I am the crown prince of the Fae.”

  It took a moment for the words to make sense to him, but then Flare gasped in astonishment. “Fae!? Do you mean Faerum?” At these words, several other gasps came from the others but Flare ignored them. “I thought the Faerum were ten feet tall,” he said.

  “And isn’t Faerum skin supposed to be blue?” Enton asked skeptically.

  Warren smiled. “Nonsense, we resemble humans. We would’ve been caught a long time ago otherwise.”

  “But why have you remained hidden since the Third War of the Races?” Flare asked. A part of him wanted to remain suspicious of the claim, but his senses told him that something was definitely different about these two. Faerum was as good an explanation as any.

  “We were give a sacred charge by our god, Nephur. Those of us that remained were to guard our lands and the armor Nerandall until it was needed. We have been promised that we would be restored if we faithfully kept our charge.”

  “Restored?” Dagan repeated. “And aren’t you supposed to have your own innate type of magic?”

  Warren nodded once in Dagan’s direction. “That is true, but we lost that ability when we were punished. Nephur punished us for our whimsical ways. Our cities were laid waste and we were stripped of our magic. We have waited a long time to be restored and that time is at hand.”

  Flare could care less about innate magics and long dead cities, but something else Warren had said had caught his attention. “You guard Nerandall?”

  Still smiling, Warren nodded his head. “Yes. Are you ready to take possession of it?”

  “Wait!” Heather said loudly and forcefully. All eyes turned to her and she proceeded in a calmer voice, “Just like that? Flare shows up and says that all of the good things in Kelcer apply to him but none of the bad things do, and just like that you believe him? Did you not see him summon demons?” Her questions caused the others to look troubled and they couldn’t meet Flare’s gaze.

  Her words cut him like a knife. He knew many would hate and fear him for the monster they thought he was, but he had hoped these men and women would know him better. “Heather,” Flare said softly, “you know me. I’m not a monster. I don’t kill the innocent; I never have. Oh, I’ve killed plenty, but not the innocent. Do not listen to what the Church has said about Kelcer for they have been wrong. Deep down, do you really think that I could do the things that the Church would have you believe I am to do?”

  For several long moments Heather didn’t answer. She just stood there, studying him, looking for any signs of deceit or malice. Finally, she dropped her eyes, “Gods help me, no,” the words came out choked up and her eyes were bright. “Please don’t let me be wrong.”

  Flare smiled at her for a moment, a huge weight having been lifted from his shoulders. One of his greatest fears was that no one would accept him, but that was not to be the case. There were some who would give him a chance and that was all it took. Then he turned back to Warren, “Now, where is Nerandall?”

  Without looking, Warren pointed behind him, directly at the lake, “Down there.”

  “In there?” several voices called out in unison.

  Warren nodded and said, “Getting to it is easier than you might think.” He pointed up to the right of the passage that led to the cavern with the waterfall. There is a mechanism up there to allow the water to flow out of this cavern and into the next. Then we can get the armor easily enough.”

  Flare motioned at the wall and said, “Please, show me.”

  The monstrous demon charged past Tristan and Henry and the two nearly collapsed from the fear.

  “I thought we were dead,” Henry said, gasping for breath.

  “Adel spared us,” Tristan answered, watching the demon as it chased the goblins. “Things are worse than we knew.”

  “How’s that?” Henry asked. He let the ward go and once again appeared as a man. They had used sorcery to sneak into the first cavern, but they had kept a good distance from the humans, just in case one of them was a sorcerer. The ward was a small one and turned inward on its caster; there was little chance they would be caught.

  “That was a demon,” Tristan answered, “which means that bastard Flaranthlas is here too.”

  “How,” Henry demanded once he found his voice. “How could he be here? We would have seen him.”

  Tristan twisted around and got right in Henry’s face. “Pay attention! It doesn’t matter how he’s here. What matters is that we have to seize this opportunity and rid the world of this monster!”

  Henry took a deep breath and recoiled a little from the heat in Tristan’s tone. “How?” he asked simply.

  Tristan pulled back a little and grinned, “I have no idea, but we will trust in Adel to show us the way.”

  Warren climbed the rocks to the right of the opening that led to the waterfall cavern. It wasn’t an easy climb; the rocks were slick with centuries of fungus growth and several times he nearly fell. At last he reached the small alcove at the top of the wall, nearly thirty feet above the floor. Recessed in the small opening was a glowing red stone. He had seen this stone before. When he was named crown prince, he had been brought he
re and shown this stone, as had all the other princes before him. Reaching in, he removed the stone from its setting. It was the first time in millennia that the stone had been removed.

  For a moment nothing happened and then there came such a noise that only could be described as thunder. It reverberated through the room and loose stones began to fall.

  Startled by the sudden noise, Warren lost his grip on the slimy rocks and fell. His eyes widened and he opened his mouth to scream, but the scream died on his lips.

  As soon as the Fae had fallen, Flare had used sorcery and grabbed him with his spirit and gently brought him to the ground. He set Warren down on the shore near the rest of them. All the while the sound of thunderings continued. The wall of the cavern where the water flowed out and made the waterfall in the next cavern was splintering. Huge chunks of stone fell and everyone scrambled back out of the way. No one was hit by the falling rock but they were all soaked by the stones falling into the water, causing huge splashes.

  After a moment, the rock quit falling and the noise died down. A huge opening had been torn in the wall and the water from the lake rushed out. Judging by the small hole and the huge amount of water, it would take some time for it to completely drain away.

  They were all gathered around on the receding shoreline, watching the water rush out. Flare wondered if the armor would really be there, and if so, what state it would be in after millennia in the water.

  “What happens next?” Dagan asked, breaking the silence. “What happens after you get the armor?”

  Flare took a deep breath, “I’m headed to Aramonia. I heard a rumor that the King has the helmet of Ashteroth.”

  Dagan and Heather exchanged glances at that. “Well,” Heather said slowly, “he did have the helmet, but not anymore.”

  Flare quickly turned towards them. “How do you know that?” he demanded.

  “We sort of broke into the king’s treasure room to get a copy of the Kelcer prophecy and then some of Zalustus’ Lieutenants took advantage of the situation to steal the helmet.”

  Flare just stared, not knowing whether to believe them or not.

  Heather pointed at Agminion, “That’s where we got Agminion. He is, or was the king’s sorcerer. We were captured and put in the king’s dungeon.”

  Flare’s eyes flicked to Agminion and he asked, “Did you help them escape?”

  “Yes and no,” Agminion answered. “I did help them escape, but only because the king ordered me to.”

  Shaking his head as if to clear it, Flare asked the only thing he could think of, “Why?”

  The king thought the Guardians might be doing a necessary thing, but he didn’t want to get into trouble if the Church found out.”

  Laughing, Flare clapped Agminion on the shoulder. It was the first time he had laughed in ages.

  “Flare,” Mikela asked cautiously, “didn’t you hear Heather say that Zalustus has the helmet?”

  Flare nodded, “But I have Ossendar and I’m about to have Nerandall. That gives me two of the signs and he only has one.”

  “True,” Mikela said, “but no one seems to know where the shield is hidden.”

  His exultation waned a little at that, but he only nodded.

  After several moments of silence Flare began telling them everything that had befallen him since the last time they had seen him. This took nearly a quarter of an hour, especially with the questions they posed to him. After that, it was their turn. Heather relayed their story with many interruptions of the others.

  After nearly half an hour since the water began flowing out, it still had quite a ways to go. They were still gathered around the shoreline and for the first time in what seemed like forever, Flare felt at peace. His former friends were still his friends and that was a tremendous relief. Standing on the shore, he looked out over the water and sighed.

  Suddenly, the feeling of someone using sorcery blazed up behind them.

  Without even thinking, Flare took control of his spirit and formed a shield around him. He turned, noticing as he did so that something had just slammed into his sorcerer’s shield.

  Two men stood just inside the tunnel. Both men carried swords and they were both using sorcery.

  One of the men grabbed a goblin sword off of the ground using his spirit and hurled it at Flare.

  Flare grabbed the sword with his own spirit and threw it back at the men. The one on the right dove to the ground. The other man wasn’t so lucky. The sword struck him in the chest, towards the right side of his body. The blade sliced him open and he screamed as blood began pouring forth.

  The uninjured man was struggling to his feet, but Flare grabbed a boulder the size of a man’s fist and hit him in the head. He crumpled back to the ground.

  Flare knew who these men were but not how they had come to be here. They had to be priests; members of the Church, part of the same order as Thomas. He turned, opening his mouth to explain about these men, but the words died unspoken. The something that had slammed into his shield had been a sword and it had been deflected. When the sword had rebounded, it had hit Heather. She lay on the ground with the sword protruding from her stomach.

  Chapter 28

  Cold washed over Flare at the sight of the sword sticking out of Heather’s stomach. It felt like it had to be his fault, it always felt like that. It was a feeling that he had felt all too often, but it was something that he would never get used to. The others were rushing to her aid, but Flare beat them there.

  Heather’s eyes were wide and she was opening and closing her mouth like she was trying to talk but no sound came out. A small trickle of blood leaked from the corner of her mouth.

  “Heather!” Enton bellowed as he dropped down beside her. “Oh Gods!”

  Blood was everywhere and they had all seen injuries like this before. It was fatal; it was only a matter of time.

  Flare knew what had to be done and it had to be done quickly. “Listen up!” he shouted and the others all looked at him. “I think I can save her, but you have to trust me.” He didn’t wait for an answer but using his spirit he began carrying her towards the tunnel. “Atock! My bag is up in the portal room,” he said pointing up the slope, “hurry and get it.”

  They quickly reached the tunnel and Flare gently set the floating woman down on the stone floor. She groaned but didn’t try to move anymore than that. He removed the sword and placed a piece of cloth over the wound to slow the blood loss.

  Turning he used his spirit to move the stabbed priest into the tunnel and he set him down close to Heather.

  “Forget about the man,” Enton said, starting to look angry, “worry about Heather. He can die for all I care.”

  Flare didn’t even bother to answer, as at that moment Atock ran up with his pack. He removed the chalk from the pack and drew a blue circle around Heather. He drew a second circle, this one red, around the injured priest. The second circle overlapped the first circle. Finally he drew a smaller circle, this one in green, and it overlapped both the first and second circles. Tossing the three pieces of chalk to the side, he rummaged in his pack until he found a white piece of chalk. Then he began to frantically copy runes all around the inside and outside of the circles. This was similar to what he did when he summoned demons, but still slightly different. For one thing, there were three circles used in this bit of wizardry, whereas summoning demons only needed two. Also, the runes that he scrawled were different.

  When he reached the end, he tossed the chalk aside and looked up. “Listen carefully. Once I start, if anyone interferes, they will die. Stay outside the circles. Understand?” Most nodded their heads but he doubted whether they really understood. “Dagan, I want you to use sorcery to keep everyone out of these circles. Understood?” The old man just nodded silently.

  Flare noticed that Mikela was crying and Enton looked like he might be next. Enton? He wondered what was going on there, but the thoughts were gone before he had even entertained them.

  Flare sat down in the small gree
n circle. Realizing that he was missing a very important ingredient, he used his spirit to float in a small amount of the dirt from the cavern. He placed it in the small area where the two larger circles overlapped. Then he took a deep breath and cleared his mind. This bit of wizardry could be more dangerous than the summoning of demons. His eyes went unfocused and he directed his will into the dirt.

  It was a most unusual feeling. Detached as he was from normal perception, he could feel Heather’s beating heart as well as that of the injured priest. Both were slipping away and he knew he had to hurry. He forced himself to relax, although it wasn’t easy, and began the summoning of the priest’s life.

  At first, nothing seemed to happen, but gradually he felt a glowing pulsing essence that rose from the priest. Although his eyes were half closed, he could still see the misty white cloud that seemed to hang over the priest. The cloud moved around but always stayed within the priest’s circle.

  Swallowing hard, Flare began the second part of the summoning; of the two, it was the more difficult part.

  Being much more careful than he had with been with the priest, Flare began calling on Heather’s life essence; not the good part but the part that had been damaged. It took a moment or two but a dark and foggy cloud slowly rose above Heather’s body. The cloud was sluggish and he knew he didn’t have much time.

  Flare breathed out, completely emptying his lungs, and then he held his breath. Slowly, carefully, he willed the two clouds of life to change places. At first nothing happened, but then slowly the two clouds began to intermix. The dark sluggish cloud flowing from Heather’s circle to the priest’s and vice versa. After several long moments, the mists hung over the opposing figure and he willed them down; to settle slowly.

  He continued to hold his breath for several more moments and then gasped; sucking in wonderful mouthfuls of air. Opening his eyes, he looked first at Heather. She was still breathing, but it was impossible to tell anything about her wound due to the deeply stained bandage they covered the wound. Flare rolled over and crawled up next to Heather’s prone form. He took out his knife and cut away the bandage. There was a nasty looking scar running across her stomach, but the skin had closed up.