Cassandra was busy quietly appraising him. “So you're telling me that the sex has nothing to do with it?” She asked calmly.
“Well, I .. uh .. , I mean, you know that sex is good, but I believe I have to watch her so that I know who is spying on me.” He said trying hard not to lie. He was a little confused by her attitude. She was acting liking they were in a committed relationship, and he had cheated on her. While they were sleeping together, there wasn't any commitment between them. “I thought that we agreed there wasn't any commitment between us.” He said quietly, wondering if it was the right thing to say.
Cassandra smiled a tired smile, “Flare, I'm not jealous. Well, maybe a little, but I'm also concerned that she might find out about us and that would get me in a lot of trouble.”
'Fool!' He thought. 'Why would Cassandra be jealous? She could have almost any man she wanted, of course she was just looking out for our safety.' He felt embarrassed about miss-interpreting her comments. He face got warm and he knew he was blushing. “So, are we okay?” He asked, still somewhat confused.
Cassandra smiled. “Yes, we're okay. Just be careful.” She got up and walked around to Flare and handed him a pipe that had smoke coming out of the end of it. “Here, try this.”
“What is it?”
“Don't worry about it, just try it. Trust me, you'll like it.”
Flare woke the next morning in Cassandra's bedchambers with an aching head. Sitting up in bed caused a cold sweat to break out all over his body, and he thought he might get to see last night's dinner again. He sat there for several moments and the nausea slowly lessened. He was surprised to see that Cassandra had already left. Finally the pain lessened to a point where he felt good enough to get out of bed and get dressed. He took his time putting his clothes on as each movement seemed to cause another part of his body to start hurting. As he got dressed, the events of the previous night slowly came back to him. Whatever Cassandra had given him to smoke had made him feel wonderful. His senses had been heightened, and life's pressures had seemed insignificant, but today every part of his body ached. The drug had heightened the sex as well, but even so nothing was worth the way he felt now. He quickly decided that if Cassandra offered him anything else, he would pass on it.
Fully dressed, he started toward the door as fast as he could; even so, his fastest was rather slow. He paused as he walked passed a mirror and observed his image. His skin was pale and sweaty, and his eyes were blood shot. He shook his head at the sight, definitely not touching any more of Cassandra's wonder drug.
As he stepped into the hallway, the guard on duty snapped to attention. The guard then took a closer look at Flare and asked, “Are you okay?”
Flare smiled at the guard, hoping to put him at ease. “I'll be okay. I just had too good a time last night, if you know what I mean.”
The guard smiled back at Flare, “I don't know from first hand experience, but I can only imagine what a magician can do to you.”
Flare let the comment go and walked slowly back to his room. Along the way, he stopped a page and ordered a plate of food be brought to his room. He was not the least bit hungry, but if the after affects of this drug were anything like ale, then food would help him feel better.
Upon reaching his room, he lay down on his bed and waited for his food, which arrived shortly thereafter. He got up and quickly forced the food down and then lay back down for a quick nap.
He awoke several hours later, around noontime, feeling remarkably better than he had this morning. He sat up and stretched, and none of the earlier soreness bothered him. 'Maybe I'll look into that hallway today after all.'
Early in the evening Flare was walking down the hallway toward the intersection that had been haunting his dreams. The hallways were practically deserted, because it was time for the evening meal. In a way, it was a relief to finally get an opportunity to investigate the mysterious hallway, but frankly, he was a little scared of what he might find. If his dreams were even close, then he might not come back from this little excursion, but it was better to find out what was causing his nightmares than to just continue having them.
His sword was strapped to his back and it was unusual for him to wear the sword around the palace, but he was afraid that he just might need it tonight. Although he wasn't sure what good a sword would be against the specter of his dreams, but he had to know what was causing them.
He arrived at the intersection without any problems, and he stopped and observed the hallway. The sight of the intersection caused his heart to race a little bit, as this had been the scene of numerous nightmares, but it was strangely serene and quiet. His eyes sought out the three stones that were the key from his dream. Was his dream just a dream, or was there something more to this hallway? Would the stones open up a secret door with a ghoulish specter waiting on him?
Flare continued to stand there for several more moments, now that he was actually here, he wasn't in such a rush to confront his dreams. He felt a little drop of sweat run down his back, despite the coolness of the air, he also could feel little beads of sweat forming on his forehead and for the first time the thought occurred to him to turn around and leave. He contemplated leaving for just a moment before he dismissed it. 'One way or another, this ends tonight,' he thought in a calm resolved manner. Now that his mind was made up, it was easier for him to step forward.
Looking around to make sure that there was no one else in either hallway, Flare drew his sword. Then, with one final look down the hallway, he pushed on the stone that had cracked first in his dream of several nights earlier. The stone gave and slid in about an inch, making almost no noise as it slid. Breathing deeply, he turned back around and located the other two stones in the upper right corner. He pushed on the second one, and it too slid slowly into the wall. With his heart beating a little more rapidly, he pushed on the last stone. The last stone slid in silently and then stopped moving.
All three stones were pushed in, but nothing happened. He wasn't sure whether to be relieved or upset. He started to smile, when he noticed a small crack appearing in the wall. The crack continued to get bigger, and he could see that it was in the outline of a doorway, with a sinking feeling, he realized he had found the secret entrance into the hidden hallway. He stepped to his right, as the door swung silently outward.
The passage beyond the door was dark, but it was still light enough that Flare could make things out. The passageway stretched out away from the doorway, and light filtered down through small cracks and holes in the roof and in the walls.
He took a step closer to the entrance, and leaned in to take a good look, resting his hand on the right side of the doorway. He half expected to be grabbed by a skeletal arm, but nothing happened as he leaned in. The dust lay thick inside, indicating that nobody had used the passage in quite some time. The opening of the door had stirred up some of the dust and Flare sneezed almost as soon as he put his head through the door. With a start, he realized that the hallway perfectly matched the hallway from his dream. He could just barely make out the two benches in the hallway, and the one on the left was even faded, just like in his dream.
He stepped through the door and started slowly moving down the passageway. If his dream had been accurate in his vision of the hallway, then what if the rest of his dream was correct? Was he about to run into an evil rotting specter? He pushed the thought away, as it wouldn't do any good to think that way.
He had taken about four steps when he heard a soft click behind him near the door. He whirled around, just in time to see the secret door close. He jumped toward the door, starting to panic, thinking that he was locked in with no chance of getting out. He only panicked for a moment, because he noticed that this side of the door had a latch which could be used to open the door.
He laughed at his own fear, but the sound of his laugh made him cringe. It was dead silent in this hallway; it made him think of a tomb as his laugh reverberated off the walls.
He swallowed, and the stirred up dust
almost made him cough, before he started down the passage. He walked slowly, looking around judging how precise his dream had been. He was amazed at how accurate the details from his dreams were, even down to really small details.
He reached the first turn, and slowly he rounded the corner. The hallway continued on, just like in his dream. The light which filtered in through the cracks on Flare's right, seemed to be dimming. He realized that it was starting to get dark outside, and that soon it would be dark in the hallway. He quickly spoke a word of magic, and bright light filled the hallway.
Flare continued down the hallway, past the suit of armor and the family banners from his dreams, until he reached the intersection. Almost ignoring the other two hallways, he turned to his right and entered the small anteroom. His heart was racing, and his stomach seemed to be doing flips, but he continued forward, albeit slowly.
He reached the far end of the room, and stopped in front of the door. Taking a couple of deep breaths to steady himself, Flare reached out and turned the knob on the door, pushing the door open.
The room beyond looked exactly as it had in his dream, right down to the bookcases and desk. Holding his sword in front of him, he stepped into the study.
Wasting no time, he turned to his left and looked for the torch holder that he had dreamed about. Finding it, he stepped forward, depressed the button on the arm of the torch holder and turned it to the left. The bookcase squeaked as it swung away from the wall, exposing a dark narrow passageway.
Unlike his dream, the light from Flare's magic spell showed that the other side of the secret door was a small room. Resting his hand on the right side of the wall, he looked through the doorway. The small room appeared to be a secret study. Light filtered through a narrow crack in the roof, which was enough for him to see the room's furnishings. There was a desk and chair, and the walls were lined with bookcases, a red plush rug was on the floor. The thing that caught his attention though, was a mummified skeleton sitting in the chair behind the desk. The chair was pulled up close and the skeleton arms rested on the desk. The skeleton was covered in cobwebs. A knife, stuck into the desk, stood upright between the hands of the skeleton. The knife had been rammed into the desk pretty hard, judging by how far it had penetrated the wood. The desk, although covered in dust, had a dark stain that radiated out from the knife.
Flare studied the room for several moments, and then slowly placed one foot inside the doorway. When nothing happened, he followed with his other foot. Now completely in the room, and with his heart beating loudly, he waited patiently. For what, he did not know. All he knew was that he had been drawn to this room.
He stepped closer to the desk to study the skeleton.
“I have waited a long time for your coming.” A voice said from behind him.
Flare jumped at the voice, whirling around and nearly screaming. His sword hand was shaking as he pointed it at the speaker. Apparently, the dreams had him frightened him more than he had thought.
The speaker slowly moved out of the shadows and into the dim light. It was a man, middle-aged, and slightly pudgy. He had shoulder length reddish brown hair and a full beard. The speaker was wearing a dark blue shirt and light tan pants. He took several steps toward Flare and then stopped. He tilted his head to one side and smiled. “So, are you going to kill me, or not?”
Flare, his hand still shaking, opened his mouth to speak. It took several tries for him to get anything to come out, “Who, Who are you?”
The man raised his hands, palms out toward Flare. “Calm down. I'm not here to hurt you. I'm actually here to help you.” The speaker paused for just a moment, “And as it turns out, I'm also helping myself.”
“Help me. How?”
“I'm supposed to guide you and answer some of your questions.”
Flare lowered the sword, his brow wrinkling in confusion. “What are you talking about? Who are you, and why are you supposed to guide me? None of that makes any sense.”
The speaker took a deep breath, “I know that it must be confusing, but let me explain. My name is Wyndon and I was once King of Telur.”
Now it was Flare's turn to smile, “Your King Wyndon? Now, if I know my history, he's been missing for some two thousand years. You look pretty good for someone that old.” As he spoke, he raised his sword back up.
“Actually, my physical body doesn't look all that good.” He pointed at the skeleton sitting at the desk, “That is all that remains. That wouldn't even have lasted this long, except that I was cursed and the curse has helped preserve this room and the contents.”
Lightening quick, Wyndon jerked his left hand out and grabbed the sword by the blade. Blood gushed from his hand as he ripped the sword out of Flare's grasp. He then wrapped his right hand around the hilt, holding the sword up to examine it. With a start, Flare realized the blood that had gushed from Wyndon's left hand was gone, as were the wounds on his hand.
Wyndon examined the sword momentarily, and then handed it back to Flare. “Put that away and listen. It's time you start listening to and trusting me.”
Flare slowly reached out and took the offered sword and then slowly put it away. “All right. Say what you have to say.”
“My name is Wyndon, and I was king of Telur almost two thousand years ago. I have been in this room, waiting for you, ever since I committed suicide.”
“Suicide!” Flare repeated, surprised.
Wyndon raised his hand, “Please let me finish.” He waited for a moment, and Flare nodded his head for Wyndon to continue. “It was shortly after the demon-lord wars. Telur was in a place of dominance, having scarcely been touched by the wars. The kingdoms to the south had been devastated and I chose to send my armies south into Dalar. Your forebear, King Osturlius forced me to withdraw my forces and I took it as a personal affront. There were other powerful leaders who felt that King Osturlius had overstepped his authority, and I formed a secret alliance with those leaders to remove the threat that he had become. I lured him into a trap, and then I had my best troops ambush him. My troops were wiped out, all except one soldier. The soldier was driven completely insane, his name was Kelcer.”
Flare flinched at the name of the soldier who had written the Kelcer prophecy.
Wyndon continued on without even noticing. “Now that Osturlius was out of the way, I arranged for a minor noble to have an 'accident' along the border of Dalar, and that was all the excuse I needed to invade. Dalar was still trying to recover from the devastation of the demon-lord wars and my troops just swept over them like a wave. My generals were ruthless, and it wasn't long before the war was over and I annexed over half of the country. The celebration didn't last long, however. A horrible plaque swept through Telur, killing or maiming many. I blamed the plaque on the country of Ontarin and used it as an excuse to invade.”
Wyndon paused, and Flare thought for a moment that he had a tear in his eye. “My whole reason for living was my son Almon. He was my light and my joy. Unfortunately, the plaque claimed him. It absolutely broke my heart and I lost all interest in the war or in running the kingdom. I sunk more and more into depression. I just couldn't go on living without my son, so one day when I was in my study, I went into my secret room and cut my wrists.” He was talking so fast, that the words seemed to trip over one another. “I bled to death hoping to be reunited with my son. However, I was not so lucky. I was punished for my transgressions by being locked in this room for the last two thousand years. I have been locked in here waiting for you. I think that by helping you resurrect the Dragon Order, I can somehow atone.” He paused and seemed to be lost in thought, staring at the floor.
Flare took advantage of the pause to speak up. “You said you were locked in this room, waiting on me, but who locked you in here?”
Wyndon pulled his gaze off of the floor, “I don't know. When I died, I just woke up in this room, knowing that I couldn't leave until I completed this task. It was then that I realized that I had done something horribly wrong, but it was over the last
two thousand that I have come to realize the enormity of my sin.” He shook his head and once again his eyes had tears in them. “The last two thousand years have been a horrible punishment for me. I have remained in this room, never sleeping, never resting, just dwelling on my errors. It's enough to drive you mad.”
Flare leaned back against the desk and just watched Wyndon. He was struggling with the things that Wyndon was saying. He seemed to be telling the truth, but how could he tell? “What was the horrible thing that Osturlius did that caused the curse on the elves?”
Wyndon shook his head, “What? Oh, Osturlius did nothing wrong.”
“What?! The gods cursed the elves two thousand years ago. A statue came alive and spoke to an elven priest. The statue said the king's sin was so despicable that all elves would be punished, and now you say that the king didn't do anything wrong?” Flare said incredulously, now starting to doubt the words of Wyndon.
“Wait, let me finish. Osturlius did nothing wrong. When the statue spoke to the priest, Osturlius was already dead and therefore he was not the king anymore. Osturlius' son Andillious was the king at that time.”
Wyndon's words caused a feeling of dread to grow in Flare's stomach. “Then what was the horrible thing that Andillious did to curse the elves?” A gnawing suspicion was starting to grow in his mind.
Wyndon was slow to answer, “He was part of the conspiracy to kill Osturlius.”
The words hit Flare like a blow. “How could a son help kill his own father?” Flare asked.
Wyndon dropped his eyes to the floor, “I bribed him into joining the conspiracy, and doing so, I doubled the curse on my family.”
Flare shook his head in disgust, “What am I supposed to do about these things? They happened two thousand years ago. They are ancient history!”
“These things have been done and they cannot be undone. You do not need to worry about them. You need to continue on the path you are already on, continue to pursue the re-establishment of the Dragon Order. You are to replace Osturlius, and restore his light into the world. If you are successful, then you will cleanse our family of my sin. You will also cleanse the elven royal family of their sin as well.” A smile lit up Wyndon's face as he spoke.
Ossendar: Book Two of the Resoration Series Page 14