Valley of the Ancients: Book Three of the Restoration Series

by Williams, Christopher

  Sighing, Flare turned around and kicked his horse forward. The poor beast had been through hell over the past several weeks and had carried its burden admirably. Regardless, the horse should be free of him soon. He glanced up at the sight of the Az'ha'rill Mountains looming over him, the very same mountains where Fort Mul-Dune was located.

  After fleeing Telur, Flare traveled northwest until he hit the Dark Forest. After skirting westward around the edge of the forest, he had turned more northwards and was now quite a bit north of Mul-Dune. His escape plan hadn't been all that well thought out. After stealing the sword, it seemed logical to flee in the direction that they would least suspect and that had been northwest. Everything would still be fine, as long as he could find a way through the mountains quickly. If it took him too long to find a path, then the Telurian soldiers would undoubtedly catch him.

  He was completely undecided as to what he should do once he got to the other side of the mountains. It was a topic he tried not to think about very much, because it always came back to one thing; it seemed like he might be the destroyer of Kelcer's prophecy. True, he did carry the sword, but that was only one piece of the prophecy. He simply refused to believe that he could be the vile murderer that Kelcer had spoken of.

  Unbidden, the face of a young soldier floated up from his memory. It was a face he knew well, he saw it frequently when he closed his eyes. It was the face of the young man whose throat Flare had cut in the middle of a packed mess hall. The boy had been trying to flee the battle and take as many other soldiers with him as he could; Flare had responded by killing him.

  Without a doubt, he was a killer, but never in cold blood. Even the boy, whose throat he had cut, could be blamed on Flare simply doing his duty. If the boy had managed to lead a sizeable number of soldiers away from Mul-Dune, thenhe v the fort surely would have fallen. By killing the soldier, Flare had done his duty and kept the men at the fort. They had even managed to hold the fort against the overwhelming numbers long enough for reinforcements to arrive, but still the face haunted him. No, he was a killer but he was not a murderer. He could not believe anything else.

  He leaned forward in his saddle as his horse struggled up a particularly steep slope. He was nearing the mountains now and the low lying plains were well behind. Also, the trees were changing as he climbed closer to the mountains. He hadn't seen an oak in days, just more and more evergreens. He was unfamiliar with this particular type of tree, but it was rather tall and skinny. He was thankful for the cover provided by the trees, as they would help shield him from being spotted as he climbed the slope. That thought made his shoulders itch. He knew the followers had to be getting close.

  Outcroppings of rock were scattered around and becoming more common. Here and there were little piles of snow, hidden away in the shadows where the sun had not reached them.

  Several times he had been forced to go farther north than he wished, as the path had been blocked, twice by rock slides, and once by a gorge. He had not even really reached the mountains yet, and already he was being forced to scramble around to find a path.

  A sudden gust of wind swept off of the mountains and Flare shielded his eyes with one hand while pulling his cloak tighter around his neck. That brought a new worry to mind. Would his clothes, warm as they may be, be sufficient to get him over the mountains?

  "Got to get there first," he muttered aloud. A long time ago he had learned not to over plan things. Half the things that he would plan for would not occur, and numerous things he had not anticipated were bound to happen.

  Glancing up, he looked for the sun but the mountains were already shielding it from view. It would be dark soon. He desperately wanted to keep going, but that was foolishness. If he tried to climb the mountains in the dark, either his horse would break a leg or he would break his neck. As much as he did not want to, he knew he needed to find a place for camp.

  It took nearly a quarter of an hour to find a suitable place, but he was pleased with the spot he ultimately chose. One side was a ten foot tall outcropping of rock and the other side was a mess of fallen and half rotten trees. It appeared that a rock slide had made a huge wall of trees maybe ten feet from the outcropping. It was perfect, the outcropping of rock and trees would shield him from most of the wind and they would also hide a small fire.

  The fire was the important thing, already the temperature was dropping and the sun wasn't even completely down. It was going to be a cold night.

  Sighing, Flare dismounted and began the tiresome chore of setting up camp.

  In the middle of the night, Flare lay asleep in his small blanket next to the fire. It was a light sleep, something to which most soldiers were accustomed. Since he was traveling alone, he had known that he would be vulnerable when he slept. Fortunately, he was able to put something that Dagan had taught him to good use. Before he went to sleep, he set wards around his camp. It was a simple enough thing for a sorcerer to do, even as poor a trained one as Flare.

  The fire had all but died out, the remaining warmth coming from the glowing red and orange embers, when sf aomeone crossed one of his wards. His eyes popped open but he didn't move. Movement sometimes gave one away quicker than sounds.

  Breathing silently, he closed his eyes and listened. Someone was approaching from behind him and seemed to be following the wall of trees. The wall did not run straight, but was more haphazard. Maybe ten yards to the south, the wall curved back around to the east. Whomever was approaching, could not yet see him or his fire.

  Silently, Flare climbed to his feet and drew his sword. He backed up against the wall of trees and prepared to strike. The sounds he had heard did not sound like a full squad of soldiers, so it must be only a scout. He would have to take him out quickly and quietly.

  His heart was beating quickly in his chest and he took several deep calming breaths.

  Everything seemed to happen at once. A man rounded the curve of the trees and stopped, spotting the fire. The man was not a soldier; he was old with white shaggy hair and dark tanned skin. He wore a thick fur lined cloak and leaned on a staff. His clothes poked out from under the cloak and were made from deerskin. The staff seemed to be more for appearances as the old man gave the impression of immense vitality.

  A tingle ran up Flare's spine and he knew something was wrong but it took several moments for him to discern what was bothering him. The old man had been silent in his movements and was, in fact, completely still now, but Flare could still hear the noises caused by someone or something shuffling through the brush.

  For the briefest of moments, Flare thought the old man was leading a cow or another type of pack animal, it was the only reason for the immense amount of noise. But the noisemaker rounded the corner and turned out to be a young girl. The girl was maybe fifteen years old and slim. She had long brown hair and very pale skin; she might be cute one day, but now she still looked like a kid. She also carried a staff, but she held her staff with her right hand and balanced it on her shoulder. She seemed oblivious to her surroundings and nearly walked into the back of the old man when he stopped.

  Whereas the old man moved silently, the girl seemed to step on every dry leaf and dead twig in her immediate vicinity. Flare could only imagine that she was trying to make that much noise.

  The old man had spotted Flare, but he had not, as of yet, reacted.

  The girl stopped, tensing up and then she too spotted Flare. "Get behind me, master." She shouted, pushing her way past the old man.

  Flare blinked in surprise at the very idea of being attacked in such a manner. In other circumstances it would have been funny.

  "Sadah, no!" The old man called out but the girl ignored him.

  "Wait," Flare started to say, confused at exactly what was happening.

  But the girl didn't wait. Sliding to a stop in front of him, she whipped out with the staff. She moved it blindingly fast and too late Flare realized the staff was for protection and not to lean on. The end caught him on the right wrist and his whole forear
m went numb and his sword flew from his hand. She reversed her swing and caught him in the stomach.

  He crumpled to his knees, as the girl raised her staff for another blow. Anger swelled up in him then, anger and frustration both. An immense pressure was building up in his chest and it felt like it mucinst explode. He channeled that anger and used his spirit like Dagan had taught him. Directing his spirit outward, he grabbed the staff, wrenching it from the girl's hands as she tried to swing at his head.

  The girl slipped and fell to one knee in surprise. The staff hung unsupported in the air halfway between her and Flare. She couldn't know that he had used sorcery to take it away from her.

  Still on his knees, Flare directed his spirit and the staff smacked the girl's shin. She gasped in pain and grabbed her leg.

  Feeling a little guilty at hitting the girl so hard, he directed the staff to push her over, but a little more gently. She hit the ground and lay there, both hands on her leg.

  Flare turned his attention to the old man, the staff moving over to hang in the air between them. His sword, Ossendar, flew through the air at the same time. Catching the blade with his uninjured left hand, he pushed himself to his feet, still watching the other man.

  The old man was still standing in the same spot but he had shifted his position into a fighting stance and one of the ends of the staff was pointed directly at Flare.

  "Why did you attack me?" Flare asked. His voice sounded hallow in his own ears. The feeling that he might explode was gone, but there was still an overwhelming sense of power, more power than he had ever felt using sorcery. Oh, it had been too long since the last time he had embraced his spirit.

  The old man lowered his staff and rested one end on the ground. He bowed his head momentarily, "My apologies but my pupil is extremely rash. She thinks she is my protector, when in fact, I must strive to keep her out of trouble."

  Flare glanced down at the girl, who had pushed herself into a sitting position. She was glaring up at him, a dangerous look on her face. "I believe you," he said to the old man, "she looks to be a dangerous one." With that, Flare let the staff fall to the ground and released his hold on his spirit. Immediately, the soreness and exhaustion rolled back over him and he sagged under the weight of it all.

  "My name is Abner," the man motioned to the young girl, "my pupil's name is Sadah." He still watched Flare closely. "You carry a sword and yet you use sorcery?" He spoke quietly.

  Cursing silently, Flare tightened his grip on his sword. He hadn't thought these two would know sorcery, not in the mountains, but he had. Abner also knew that a swordsman should not be able to do what Flare had just done. Several things occurred to him at that moment, lying, denying, or running, but he dismissed them. He was through with denying himself. "My name is Flaranthlas Eldanari. I am descended from the last member of the Dragon Order, and I carry Ossendar, which marks me as the next member of the Order."

  For a moment no one said anything. Flare glanced from Abner to the girl and then quickly back. The girl was staring at him like he had just grown a third arm or something. Her mouth was hanging open and she seemed to have forgotten about her sore leg.

  The old man was studying him intently, but he seemed the less shocked of the two. Flare decided he was the one to watch.

  Flare wasn't sure what to expect. It was a rather profound pronouncement to blurt out like he had. Sadah was obviously dumbstruck but Abner seemed more thoughtful than scared.

  "Are you now?" Abner asked, still watching Flare closely. "That sword is Ossendar?"

  Flare's forehead creased in confusion, it was not exactly the outburst that he had expected. It appeared that Abner was used to strange half elf's telling him that they were the most dreaded person ever prophesied about. "Is that all you have to say?" he asked. "I mean I expected a slightly different reaction."

  Abner smiled. "I would imagine so. Probably thought we would run screaming down the mountain, huh?"

  This was most definitely not the reaction Flare expected. "You don't seem too troubled."

  Abner shook his head, "No, actually I have been waiting my whole life for this day." If anything, his grin got bigger.

  It took a moment for the words to sink in and for a moment Flare was sure that he had misheard. "What? What are you saying?"

  Abner motioned in Sadah's general direction. "When I was younger than her, my master fell into a trance and he said something profound. He said that I would see the one who would one day restore the Dragon Order."

  "And you're not bothered by that?"

  Moving slowly, Abner walked over and sat down next to Sadah, his back to the small fire. "I was terrified, until that is, my master explained some things to me." He crossed his hands, setting them in his lap, "You see, not everyone believes the Church of Adel's story that you are the destroyer of the world."

  Flare sheathed his sword and walked over to the fire, being careful to stay out of reach of Abner's staff. Sitting down on the far side of the fire, he regarded the other two as they turned around to face him. "You don't believe Kelcer's prophecy?" he asked. He had never met anyone before who hadn't believed in the prophecy. Some might believe that it was misrepresented, or misunderstood, but they still believed in the prophecy itself.

  "We do believe in Kelcer, but we do not accept the Church's interpretation. We believe that it is a prophecy of a man with incredible power, a man who has two choices; be the savior of the world, or the destroyer of it."

  Flare's forehead wrinkled in confusion, "I have never heard that interpretation before."

  "Nor would you. In some places, you can be executed for suggesting such a thing. Not many people will risk it."

  "But you do. Why?" Flare asked.

  "I am a priest, but not of the Church of Adel," Abner stated quietly.

  That sounded ominous. "Then whose priest are you?"

  "I am a priest that recognizes and respects all the gods. Adel, Silverti, even Thal."

  "You worship Thal?" Flare blurted out, half rising from his seated position. Thal was the god of the goblins, trolls, and those of that ilk. His worship usually consisted of bloody sacrifices and such.

  Abner held his hands up in front of him, "I do not worship him, but I give him the respect that is his due."

  "What respect is he due?" Flare demanded, his tone angry and loud. "It seems tinco me that everything that is evil in this world came from him."

  "Then perhaps that is why the Father God created him."

  Flare knelt there for a moment, trying to make sense of those words. He too believed that the gods they worshiped were made by a Father God. An older god who created the other gods to create life for the world, "Why would Thal be created to bring murder and mayhem into the world?"

  Smiling, Abner leaned closer to the fire, the orange coals lighting up his face. "Why would an omnipotent god create a being such as Thal? If he is omnipotent then he has to know what Thal will do." Seeing the confusion on Flare's face, Abner sat back away from the fire. "I must apologize. I see that my words have bothered you."

  Flare also sat back down but he didn't respond. The words made sense but they went against everything he had ever believed. He had always believed that the Father God had withdrawn in disgust at the way Thal had acted. What if that wasn't true? What is Thal had done the very things that he had been created to do?

  "I'm impressed."

  Abner's words intruded on Flare's thoughts and he raised his eyes from the fire to find Abner and Sadah watching him intently. "What?"

  Abner leaned close, "I said that I am impressed. Most will not even consider the things that I have just said, but a precious few do. I can see that it troubles you, and that troubling is a sign that you are considering these things."

  Flare shrugged, too tired to grapple with the confusing thoughts. "So? What if you're right?"

  "Well," Abner said after a moment, "it would mean that you have a choice, a choice to not be that evil person that Kelcer describes so vividly."

&n
bsp; That was a positive thought to Flare's way of thinking. "All right, but what if you're wrong?"

  Abner shrugged, "To a person who believes that the gods are in control of things, there is no reason to worry."

  Flare's only answer was a grunt. He didn't find it so easy not to worry.

  The silence stretched out between them. It felt like the temperature was dropping and Flare had to resist the urge to stoke the fire.

  Finally, Abner broke the silence. "Flare, where are you headed?"

  Waving his hand absently behind him, Flare answered, "Over the mountains, if I can find a way."

  "And why that way?"

  Sighing, Flare rubbed his eyes. He was so exhausted and his flight was weighing on him. "It seemed the least likely way for me to go, so that's the way I fled. With guards chasing me, I was hoping that the majority of them would go south or northeast."

  "Is that the only reason?" Abner pressed.

  Something in the way Abner asked the question made Flare frown. "Why? What are you getting at?"

  Sadah chuckled. It was the first sound she had made in a long while. "You really are a fool."

  "Sadah!" Abner barked, causing the girl to jump. "Leave us.&dthquot He said, pointing off into the darkness. "Go gather firewood for the morning."

  That last statement almost caused Flare to jump like the girl had, he hadn't thought they would be staying long, surely not spending the night. "Morning," he repeated. "Are you planning on staying?"

  Flare must have not done a very good job of keeping the dismay out of his voice because Abner smiled again. He seemed to be one of those people that had the infuriating habit of always being happy. "We will stay, assuming that you do not mind."

  Forcing himself to smile, Flare spread his hands around the small campsite. "You are more than welcome, but I do fear for your safety if the Telurian soldiers were to find me with you in my presence. It probably would end very painfully for you."

  "We would be glad to stay," Abner answered, apparently not hearing Flare's dire warning. The old man's face grew more serious, the lines in his face becoming more pronounced. "Why don't you get some rest? You look dead tired."