Victory and Defeat: Book Five of the Restoration Series

by Williams, Christopher

  Without speaking, they turned their steps toward the temple. They were approaching it from the southeast and they stopped at the base of the steps that led to the doors. It wasn’t much to look at. On the eastern side, a double door allowed access to the temple proper, and a single window was placed high up on the wall. From their vantage point, they could also see the southern wall, and it didn’t look promising. There were no doors or low windows; the only window was well out of reach in the middle of the wall.

  He sighed deeply, wondering if he had made the right decision to help Derek and the other Guardians. Deep down inside he felt it was the right decision; it gave his people a chance to come out of hiding, but only if Flaranthlas restored the Dragon Order. If Zalustus won the race, then Keenan had only won enslavement and death for his people.

  Ever since the destruction of the kingdom of Tizen some two thousand years ago, his family had always followed the orders of the King of Golteranth, but they had never had any other choice. Zalustus and his family were monsters, and Keenan was stained with the blood of the atrocities that he had been forced to commit. Now he had hope, not much, but a little. Flare had Ossendar, and that gave him the advantage, or at least Keenan hoped it did. He couldn’t imagine a world where Zalustus ruled.

  Just then, the bell in the tower started ringing. There a single moment of absolute silence, and then the pilgrims rushed toward the temple. Keenan and Kara were near the temple steps and were swept along with the others.

  Keenan grabbed Kara’s arm and held it tight so they wouldn’t be separated, but he couldn’t change the direction they were headed — right into the temple doors. The temple only held so many for each service, and they had been swept up in the rush to attend.

  Off to the south of the temple entrance, out of the flow of the pilgrim’s mad rush, a woman stood. She was slender and nearly completely covered by a long, brown cloak; the only thing visible was the end of her white, blonde hair, which poked out the bottom of her cowl.

  Under more normal circumstances, the cowl would have brought attention to her, but not now. Many of the pilgrims were deformed and scarred, and they hid their deformities even as they came here hoping for a cure.

  She watched as the fools rushed toward the temple, each trying to get a seat for the service. She had seen something else, too; Keenan and what appeared to be an old crone of a woman being forced through the doors.

  Inside the shadows of her cowl she smiled, the day had just gotten so much better.

  She didn’t know who the woman was, although she had her suspicions, but she certainly recognized Keenan, the Crown Prince of Tizen. She would never forget his face. Once they had been comrades, but not anymore. His betrayal of the Lord Zalustus had sealed his fate once and for all.

  Keenan’s imminent death really didn’t bother her all that much. She had liked him well enough, but only in that he was an excellent fighter and he was capable of following orders. So many soldiers were simply unable to do as they were told. His betrayal meant there was one less person vying for Zalustus’s approval.

  Thinking of Zalustus made Jasmine smile again; he would be so pleased that she had found Keenan. She knew that Zalustus so looked forward to his reunion with the Prince of Tizen.

  Keenan groaned as he and Kara were carried along into the temple. They had planned to avoid the services today, but there wasn’t any way to get out of it now, and besides, forcing their way back through the packed temple would be awfully suspicious.

  They passed through the temple doors, and he craned his head to see over the crowds. The interior of the temple was very underwhelming. It was a long, narrow, single-room building with two rows of benches separated by a central aisle. At the far end of the room was a slightly elevated perch from where the priest would conduct the service. A waist-high wooden wall separated the first five rows of benches from the rest. Those rows appeared reserved; they were currently empty. The walls were covered with white stucco, which helped lighten the interior as there were only four windows placed rather high up in the walls. The ceiling was solid wood and a good twenty feet over their heads.

  Kara grabbed Keenan’s hand and gave a good yank.

  He had been looking around the temple and once again had become rooted to one spot. He tensed up for a moment but then relaxed when he saw what was bothering Kara. The seats were filling up fast, and she didn’t want to stand for the hour or two that the service would last. In that sentiment, he completely agreed with her.

  They rushed forward and took two of the last seats at the rear of the temple, and in the process drew some rather nasty looks from several other members of the congregation. Keenan scowled at them and they remained silent.

  Taking the seat next to Kara, Keenan leaned in close and whispered, “How long is this going to last?”

  Kara shrugged. “Maybe an hour.”

  There was a look about her, humor mixed with expectation. “What?” Keenan asked.

  In answer, Kara pointed skyward.

  Keenan looked upwards, for the briefest of moments he thought she was pointing at the ceiling, and then he saw what she meant. Shields of all types hung in an unbroken line all around the top of the walls.

  “How many shields?” Derek asked, looking incredulous.

  “Hundreds,” Keenan said, taking off his cloak and throwing it across the end of the bed. “Damn thing could be any of them. How are we supposed to figure out which one it is?”

  Kara stepped around the prince and sat down on the edge of Derek’s bed. Derek was sitting beside her, Trestus sat on the opposite bed, Enstorion and Leela sat in the two chairs, and Keenan stood in the middle of the room looking displeased.

  “We came on this damn foolish mission because we had a chance to grab one of the signs that no one knew about,” Keenan continued angrily, his voice rising. “And now we’re here and there’s no chance of getting the shield.” He was breathing fast and deep, and his agitation was obvious to all.

  Derek bounded to his feet and moved up close to Keenan; the prince did not back up. “Lower your voice!” Derek said in a quiet tone that nevertheless carried throughout the room. “Do you want to give us away?”

  “How dare you?” Keenan demanded, his lip curling up in a snarl. “I’m a prince, and you talk to me like I’m one of your soldiers.”

  Sighing heavily, Trestus climbed to his feet and stood there, glaring over Derek’s shoulder at Keenan. There was no mistaking whose side he was on.

  “Prince, is it?” Derek asked, still speaking a good deal quieter that Keenan. “Perhaps you would like to go down to the common room and pronounce your royalty?”

  The words had the desired affect. Keenan took another deep breath and his eyes flicked from Derek to Trestus and then back to Derek. This time he remained silent.

  “You saved our lives and we will always be grateful, but you must remain calm,” Derek said. This time he spoke in a more placating, calmer manner.

  “And how are we to get through this?” Keenan asked, his tone lower and less angry. “How are we to find the one shield?”

  Derek grinned and lightly slapped the prince on the shoulder. “I don’t know, but we only just started. We’ll think of something, but we’ll do it my way.”

  After a moment, Keenan nodded his head. “As you wish.” He turned and picked up his cloak from the bed and took a step toward the door.

  “Where are you going?” Kara asked.

  Keenan stopped and turned back, they were all watching him. He still seemed rather annoyed. “I’m going to get drunk.” He turned away and quickly left the room.

  Derek waited a moment to let Keenan get to the stairs, and then he glanced at Trestus. “Better go with him. Make sure he doesn’t get in too much trouble.”

  Trestus hurried from the room, pausing only long enough to grab a cloak and his money purse, and then he was out the door.

  Derek waited until the door had closed before he turned back to the others. “Ideas?” he asked, as he sat
down on Trestus’s bed. He carefully avoided looking at Kara; she was still looking fairly rough from Enstorion’s potions, and he found it unsettling.

  “Not really,” Kara replied. “There wasn’t anything unusual about any of the shields. I didn’t see anything that led me to believe that one of them was this Ocklamoor, although I don’t really have the first idea what it looks like.”

  Derek nodded, but was silent for a moment as he considered. Finally, he looked up, glancing over to where Enstorion and Leela sat in silence. “Do either of you have any ideas?” Even though he addressed the question to the two of them, he really meant it more for Leela. Enstorion always attended these meetings, but he never offered any input; sometimes he barely answered questions.

  “Not without seeing them,” Leela answered.

  “Do you have any more information?” Derek asked. Leela was a wildling and had traveled with them at the command of the Archbishop Nathan Tanner. He had been the one to tell them that the shield was hidden at the abbey. “I’m sure anything will be helpful,” Derek added.

  Leela smiled. understanding what Derek was hoping for. “I’m sorry, but Nathan didn’t give me any more information. I’m sure he would have told me if there was something else that could help us.”

  Derek sighed. It was hard to stay positive when there was a nagging feeling that said they had been sent on a fool’s errand.

  There was something else bothering Derek as well. He enjoyed being a Guardian, and being viewed as a criminal chafed him. He found that he didn’t dwell on his Guardian problems so much when he had a plan or purpose that he was pushing forward with, but now that this little mission of theirs appeared to be unraveling, all of his worries and fears threatened to overwhelm him.

  He glanced up again, and both Kara and Leela were watching him closely. He had the worst feeling that they knew exactly what he had been thinking.

  “Why don’t you and I go to the abbey tomorrow?” Leela asked. “It will give us the chance to see these shields that have so upset our party.”

  After a moment, Derek nodded.

  “Good,” Kara said as she stood. “Once this damn potion wears off, I do not ever intend to take it again.” She smiled and began to move past Derek, “I’m glad it’s your turn tomorrow.”

  “My turn?” Derek asked, looking confused.

  “Why, yes,” Kara said, her smile getting even bigger. “You can’t go in there without a disguise. They’ll recognize you at once.”

  Derek swallowed hard as he looked Kara up and down. She was still hunched over and her back still looked humped, but he thought he could see some signs that her hair and face were returning to normal, or maybe he was just hoping.

  Kara glanced over to where Enstorion sat. “My dear Enstorion, can you make up another batch of that vile concoction?”

  Enstorion’s only answer was a smile.

  Trestus hurried out of the inn and paused in the dirt of the street, trying to locate Keenan by looking several different directions at once. Wonder of wonders, he spotted the prince turning off the main road several buildings over.

  Sprinting, he crossed the distance in no time and rushed around the corner, only to pull up and nearly fall over as he almost collided with Keenan who was just standing there. Keenan was leaning against the building’s wall with his arms crossed.

  Surprised and off balance, Trestus slid to a halt in the loose dirt, flailing his arms to stay upright. Keenan just watched him.

  “Why are you following me?”

  Trestus smiled his most charming smile. “Well, a drink sounds like a good idea, and I thought I might . . .”

  “I don’t need anyone to watch over me,” Keenan said in a reasonably calm voice. “I’ll be back to the inn later.”

  “Of course,” Trestus agreed amicably, “let me buy your first one.” Keenan looked less than receptive, and Trestus took a step closer. “Listen, this town isn’t exactly safe for lone men to go drinking, unless, you want to wind up a deck hand without your consent.”

  “You buy the first one, but I decide when you leave,” Keenan said after a moment.

  Trestus nodded enthusiastically; it was easy to agree to the prince’s terms, even if he didn’t intend to honor them.

  Chapter 10

  Jasmine was late and she suspected that the others would be worried. Oh, they wouldn’t be worried about her, but they would be worried that something had happened to her, and that might endanger their mission. A few of her companions might even want to kill her themselves. It was even possible that a few of them had tried, but, obviously, so far none of them had succeeded. Zalustus liked his lieutenants to be constantly scrambling for position; he felt it made them perform better.

  She paused to catch her breath, and she looked back the way she had come. The street climbed steeply from the lower part of Elem and curved back and forth across the sheer slope. The smile that she had worn all afternoon long slipped a bit at the direction of her thoughts. She hated being one of Prince Zalustus’s lieutenants. She wanted to be so much more than that, and if she was able to retrieve the shield she just might get her wish. Somewhat mollified, she continued her trek up the nearly empty street.

  Most of the streets of Elem were overflowing with people, but this part of town was where the wealthy and important people lived. The nicest mansions were built directly on the cliffs and looked out over the city, but she turned to the left and walked a short distance to a two-story home on the northern side of the street. It was surrounded by a large wall and meticulously maintained lawns.

  Jasmine passed through the gates without so much as a word from the lone guard; they knew better than to draw her attention to themselves. She crossed the beautiful lawn, completely oblivious to the water fountains or the chattering of the birds. She climbed the steps to the large covered porch and approached the door, but it opened before she even reached it.

  A man stood in the gap of the open door and glared at her. “Where have you been?” he demanded.

  She didn’t answer immediately. She found the tone of the question rather impertinent. Most men would not dare to speak to her like that, and they surely wouldn’t do it more than once. The speaker was one of her fellow lieutenants, which made him one of the few men in Elem who could get away with it. She sneered, “You are not the leader of this mission, I am. You would do well to remember it, Fantin.”

  Fantin moved aside so that she could enter, then he closed the door behind her. He didn’t respond to her statement, but just glowered right back at her. There was no love lost between the two of them.

  Still silent, Fantin turned and walked across the small foyer into a large, open room. He didn’t so much walk as he flowed from one place to another, every movement filled with extreme grace. He normally wore his sword on his back, but not around the mansion. Instead, the sword was in its scabbard, and he carried it in his left hand; he was never far from the sword.

  The floor of the room they entered was covered with a white marble tile, and the ceilings soared twenty feet over their heads. Small statues stood in several niches, and beautiful aromatic plants rested in vases around the room. Three large white couches adorned the room, all three were occupied.

  Fantin sat down on the end of one of the couches, his sword still in his hand. He turned his dark eyes on Jasmine, but she had completely forgotten he was there.

  Jasmine had been given command of the party that Zalustus sent to Elem. In addition to herself and Fantin, there were two other members of their expedition.

  Kaleb, a magician, was of average height and rather thin. His long, brown hair hung nearly to his shoulders and looked meticulously cleaned. For the most part, Kaleb was extremely lazy. There were, however, a couple of things — his appearance and his studies — that he devoted his time to. In addition to being a well-versed mage, he was also a scholar of ancient history. It was Kaleb who had first suggested Elem as a possible home for Ocklamoor. That was also one of the reasons that Jasmine hated the ma
n so much; he had stolen some of Zalustus’s favor.

  The fourth and final member of her group was Elber. Although a grown man, Elber’s diminutive height and leanness made it understandable as to why so many mistook him for a boy. It was a mistake that Elber relished and exploited. Despite the fact that Jasmine had never seen Elber holding a sword, the man was lethal. While Fantin, the sword master, was lethal in a confrontation, Elber was lethal in a completely different manner. He struck from the shadows, from the direction his target was least expecting, and he never used the sword, it was always a knife.

  Fantin was seated on the couch furthest to her left and Kaleb sat at the other end of that same couch. Elber was seated on the couch all the way to her right, but he wasn’t alone. In fact, three others sat patiently on the couches.

  Sharing the couch with Elber was Seeda, also a magician. Seeda had fair skin and jet-black hair; the contrast was striking. She watched Jasmine with her cold, predatory eyes.

  Also on the right-most couch sat a fighter. He was tall and muscular and completely bald. He, too, was one of her fellow lieutenants. His name was Eli. He alone did not watch her as she strode into the room; his eyes were on the floor in front of him and he did not raise them.

  For the briefest of moments, Jasmine wondered at the appearance of Eli and Seeda. They had been sent to the east, to Saprasia. Their mission had been to retrieve the armor called Nerandall, and they shouldn’t be here. It should take them months to make the trip from Saprasia to Elem. These thoughts flicked through her mind and then immediately disappeared.

  Zalustus sat alone on the middle couch. He looked very much the same as the last time Jasmine had seen him. His curly, brown hair still hung to his shoulders and was as unkempt as ever. His good left eye studied her. He had lost his right eye at the battle of Fort Mul-Dune, and it was now covered by a black eye patch. His right cheek and nose were also scarred from that fight, and it was fortuitous that the prince was not a vain man.