“So?”
“So, let’s capture these two and have them waiting on Zalustus’s return.” Kaleb looked unconvinced, so Fantin hurried on, “I believe the elven mage is in there and probably one of the two fighters. I can defeat the fighter, if you can handle the elven mage.”
Kaleb still looked dubious. “Our orders were to watch and inform.”
Fantin nodded. “And we have done as ordered, but now we have a chance to find favor with our lord. We dare not refuse such an opportunity.” He tried to keep the urgency out of his voice, but it was difficult. Jasmine had found favor by discovering Keenan. Kaleb had found favor by ferreting out that Elem was the hiding place of Ocklamoor. Time was running out for him to please his lord.
“I can defeat the magician,” Kaleb said after a moment, “but what is your plan?”
This time Fantin couldn’t help but smile. “It’s simple. We go through the front door and convince one of the servants to tell us which room the elf is staying in, then you disable him before he can do any damage. After that, it should be a simple matter of disarming the other fighter.”
Kaleb was silent for a long while. He preferred to be safe, but there was something to that damn Jasmine discovering Keenan. He couldn’t believe the woman’s luck, and he feared that the woman’s undying love for the lord Zalustus just might elevate her above him. He looked back at Fantin. “Are you sure we can do this?”
Fantin only nodded.
Chapter 16
Prince Aldon yawned into the back of his hand as he waited to see his father. The late nights with Countess Lells were wearing him out. He smiled at the thought; he couldn’t imagine a better reason to be exhausted. She was a good deal older, and he wasn’t so naïve as to think they were in love or would get married. He knew their relationship was exactly all that it was going to be, and he didn’t mind a bit.
He leaned back in the small wooden chair; there was a small grouping of such chairs in the anteroom of his father’s study. There wasn’t much to the anteroom, just six or seven chairs and two doors. One of the doors led back into the hallway, but the other door opened into the study. The study was one of those that the king used rarely. Aldon glanced around trying to remember the last time he had come here. He wasn’t sure, but he suspected that it had been well over a year. He quickly decided that he was glad that he didn’t come here much. The room was not decorated in the least, and the gray stone blocks that made up the walls were rather depressing. Two torches flickered in their holders, barely giving off enough light to chase away the darkness.
Aldon took a deep breath and closed his eyes as he imagined visiting with the countess tonight. His eyes popped back open, though, as the door to the study opened. None other than Duke Angaria beckoned him forward.
Aldon stood and started toward the door; his good mood disappearing. He did not like the duke and felt he always had to be careful about his choice of words around the man.
Stepping through the door, Aldon stopped in surprise. Angaria did not stay in the room, but passed Aldon and closed the door behind him. Perhaps it was more correct to say that Angaria slammed the door. Surprised, and rather relieved, Aldon glanced around the room.
This study was small and rarely used. The room was a square, roughly fifteen feet on a side. Two long bookcases covered the side walls, and a fireplace dominated the wall behind the large wooden desk. Two small couches and an oversized chair sat facing the desk. King Darion sat behind the desk and he looked tired. Aldon wasn’t surprised; the castle was abuzz with the story of how he had marched angrily to visit Prince Danal last night. He was rather hoping to find out what that was about.
Aldon bowed and said, “Good morning, Father.” He did not say anymore as he caught sight of another man standing at the end of the leftmost bookcase.
Straightening, Aldon studied the man; it took only a moment to realize he had never seen him before. The man was tall and thin, with short black hair; his beard and mustache were also cut short. He wore a rather plain shirt and pair of pants — not impressive at all.
“Father,” Aldon began hesitantly. He wasn’t sure what type of mood his father would be in and he wanted to be careful. “Won’t you introduce me?”
King Darion glanced to the man beside the bookcase and smiled. “Angaria wanted to know my guest’s name as well, but I’m afraid he left disappointed.” The king studied his son for a moment. “I have some rather important information, and I don’t want the entire palace discussing it. Understood?”
Aldon nodded his head. “Of course. Anything you tell me will not be repeated.” He looked a bit taken aback, and in truth, he was bothered by the fact that his father felt the need to tell him to be discrete.
“I also expect you to keep it from that whore you’re visiting night after night.”
Aldon bowed his head. Strictly speaking, he felt it was wrong to call the countess a whore. There wasn’t any doubt that the woman was a trollop, but she wasn’t a whore.
“Your brother is going to be a father,” King Darion said after a brief pause. “The young librarian,” he said in way of clarification.
Aldon nodded but held his tongue. He could certainly understand why the king would be unhappy, but it wasn’t a total loss; it would definitely help his brother’s image around the castle.
A brief silence ensued, and after a moment Aldon squirmed. “Is that all?” he asked warily.
King Darion sighed. “If that wasn’t bad enough, my good man Sherman had brought me even worse news.”
Aldon glanced at the man standing next to the bookshelves; he certainly didn’t seem concerned standing in the presence of the king. “If I may ask, what news did he bring?”
“Simply that several of the outlaw Guardians will be returning to Telur shortly.”
Aldon gaped at his father. “They’re coming here?” he finally managed to get out. “Why would they ever do that?”
In answer, the king waved his hand at the man standing against the wall. It seemed his name was Sherman.
Sherman stepped forward and bowed his head. “My prince,” he said in an oily voice. “Until recently I worked in the employ of the King of Aramonia. He captured some of these Guardians, but he contrived to let them go.” Aldon’s eyebrows rose at this, but he remained silent. “The king even supplied them with information and they are returning to Telur because they believe that a shield called Ocklamoor is contained within the temple proper.”
Aldon frowned in confusion. “Ocklamoor?” he repeated questioningly, his eyes looking first at Sherman and then his father. “What does that mean?”
It was Sherman that answered. “They believe that the shield is tied to the Kelcer prophecy, and they believe it is located here.”
That sent shivers down Aldon’s spine. What fool would purposely involve themselves with something like that? Something else bothered him though. “Why did you bring this information to us?” he asked of Sherman.
Sherman lowered his eyes and studied the floor. “I am but a poor servant, a poor servant who has ideas of being something more. I came here hoping to be rewarded.”
Aldon’s lips curled in disgust. As distasteful as it was that Sherman was selling this information, it was made even worse by the fact that he was betraying his king in addition. He dearly hoped that his father didn’t reward the man too well, and he also hoped that the king would send the man away.
Turning his eyes back to his father, he realized that Darion had been watching him the whole time. He set aside the question as to what was to become of the man and asked, “How are we preparing for their arrival?”
Darion smiled. He seemed to have read every thought that crossed his son’s face. “The city guard has been alerted, and I have placed some of the guards around a secret entrance that the Guardians know of. My guess is that they will try to re-enter the city by the very means that they used to leave it and, if they do, we will be ready for them.”
Aldon nodded. He was still trying to unders
tand what would make them return to Telur. It seemed sheer folly.
“I need you to deliver a message for me,” King Darion said, snapping Aldon out of his thoughts.
“A message?” he repeated blankly.
“Yes,” the king said slowly. “I have, in my service, several men who are expert at getting prisoners to answer questions that they would prefer not to answer. Unfortunately, none of those men are in the city. I need you to visit the manor of Lord Briarhill and see if his man Tannemum is in Telur. If he is, then insist that he returns with you. Explain to Lord Briarhill that it is a matter of utmost importance.”
King Darion gave his son a list of things to do and people to visit, all to prepare for the imminent return of the outlaw Guardians. Then, Prince Aldon left the room, leaving Sherman alone with the king.
Within moments of the study door closing, one of the library book shelves slid open to reveal a small hidden room. Dagan and Cassandra stepped out and regarded the king.
“Do you think he believed you?” Dagan asked.
King Darion nodded but didn’t speak.
“Well, shouldn’t we get our spies in place then?” Agminion asked. “After all, he might go straight to the countess’s Manor.”
King Darion’s eyes went a bit cold at that suggestion and he glared at Agminion. “I do not believe my son to be a traitor, a fool perhaps, but not a traitor.”
Agminion went a bit pale, and he quickly bowed his head. “My apologies. I meant no offense.”
King Darion held the man’s gaze a short while longer, then nodded his head once.
Cassandra waited until the King had turned his attention away from Agminion before she spoke. “As to the spies, who are we to send?”
The King looked surprised. “Why not the three of you?” he asked.
Dagan shook his head. “I’m afraid that Cassandra and I would stand out in the crowd. Most of the common citizenry would recognize us, not to mention that fool Angaria.”
“Then who?” Darion asked.
In answer, Dagan glowingly smiled in Agminion’s direction.
Chapter 17
Heather awoke with a dull aching in her head. She had indulged a bit the night before, perhaps a bit too much.
The sun was streaming in through the window and she covered her eyes with the end of the blanket. The darkness helped a bit, but she knew what she really needed — food. The food would make her feel better, but the the mere thought of food disgusted her.
A sound reached her ears, and she strained her dulled senses to figure out what it was. It sounded like someone was sawing a tree down outside her window. It took her a few moments to remember that there weren’t any trees within blocks of their inn.
Groaning, Heather pushed herself to a sitting position and just sat there, wondering dully where that Gods-awful sound was coming from.
After a few moments, she decided that she wasn’t going to be sick and forced herself to her feet. She stumbled over and poked her head out the window. She looked up and down the small alley that her window looked out over. Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
She pulled her head back in the window and realized the sound was actually louder in her room than when she had her head out the window.
She spent the next few moments checking over her room until she realized the sound was louder on the right side of the room than on the left. It took another moment before she placed her ear to the wall and finally realized what the sound was. “Enton!” she bellowed as the realization dawned.
She marched out into the hall and stomped to Enton and Flare’s door. She didn’t even bother knocking, just turned the handle and opened the door. Flare was nowhere to be seen, but Enton was lying on his back, his mouth wide open, and he was making the most Gods-awful noise Heather had ever heard.
She slammed the door behind her and kicked the side of his bed.
Enton sat bolt upright and looked around. After a moment, he raised his hand to his head and said, “Oh, my head hurts.”
“Serves you right,” Heather said, “you shouldn’t drink so much.” She resisted the urge to rub her own head, and she most definitely neglected to mention that she too had drunk a bit too much the night before herself.
“What do you care?” Enton asked. He looked a bit confused at her angry demeanor.
Just like that, all the fight went out of her. She sat down wearily on the side of Enton’s bed. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “I don’t feel so good myself.”
Enton didn’t say anything in return, he just smiled up at her.
Caught off-guard and surprising herself, Heather leaned down and kissed Enton. He didn’t pull away or resist, but his manner betrayed his confusion.
They kissed for several moments, and then she pushed him, firmly but not roughly. He slid back from the edge of the bed and she lay down beside him.
Mikela was watching when the mage and the fighter moved out of hiding and crossed the street toward the inn. She wasn’t sure what they were planning, but she knew she needed Flare here quick.
She turned around and looked back into the alley. It took her a bit to locate the imp; he had fallen asleep in the shadows of a large rubbish pile.
Mikela checked to make sure the two men couldn’t see her, and then she stood and crossed over to where the imp lay. She nudged it awake with her foot, and the beast bolted upright.
“What? Why do you kick Ziteul?”
“My apologies,” Mikela said quickly, “but I need you to find Flare. Find him and bring him back here as fast as you can.”
“Why should I?” the imp demanded, and once again Mikela was reminded of a child.
“Because your master wants you to,” Mikela said, trying to remain calm. She didn’t have time for this, but she needed the imp’s help.
“Master didn’t say that I had to obey you,” Ziteul said, a crafty gleam in his eyes.
Mikela smiled and leaned close, but Ziteul scampered back out of her reach. “He told me to watch you and report how well you behaved,” she said. “He told me that if you caused trouble, then he would make you deeply regret it.”
Ziteul watched her through narrowed eyes. “And what do you plan to tell the master?”
“That depends on how well you follow my instructions,” Mikela said.
Fantin and Kaleb entered the inn’s main entrance. Both men had their hoods pulled up just in case they ran into either of the two remaining Guardians. They stepped into a small foyer and glanced around. A small and empty desk was to their left, and the common room was off to the right. Stairs that led up were directly in front of them. It was still early, but breakfast was already being served and the common room was half-full.
Fantin moved over and glanced into the common room; it only took him a moment to see that their quarry was not in there. He retreated just as a maid emerged from a door under the stairs. She was carrying a broom and appeared headed for the front walkway.
Smiling, Fantin moved closer and said, “Excuse me.” The maid returned the smile, and moved even closer. He slipped a knife up against the woman’s side and held it there. The woman’s eyes went wide, and she opened her mouth to scream.
“None of that!” Fantin said into the maid’s ear. “If you make a noise, then it will be the last sound you ever make.” The maid’s eyes were still wide in surprise and fear, but she clamped her mouth shut.
“Excellent,” Fantin said. “I want you to answer a few questions for me and then we’ll let you go free.” The maid opened her mouth to speak, but Fantin poked her with the knife. “Just nod.” She nodded. “Is there an elf staying here?” The maid nodded again. “Good. Now lead us to his room.”
Enstorion was lying on his bed reading a book. He had only brought three magic books with him and he knew the spells intimately now. He regretted not having any more books, and it angered him that Derek refused to allow him to wander the streets of Elem. He was quite sure that if allowed, he could find enough magical stores and shops to entertain him.
He sighed and lowered the book; his mind really wasn’t into it anyway. He was tired of this inn and tired of this mission. He wanted nothing more than to find a nice, quiet place to practice his magic. He had a thirst for magic — to him it was the only thing that mattered.
His thoughts wandered around to Flare and worry settled around him. The fool had gone and gotten involved with Kelcer. Kelcer! The church wouldn’t stop now until Flare’s head adorned a pike on the walls of the golden temple. Of more importance to Enstorion, though, was the fact that the church would view all those who knew Flare as being guilty as well. He knew that he had seen the last of Telur. Any of the Guardians who knew Flare would be smart to avoid the city and kingdom. Personally, he couldn’t wait to get out of Elem and head south. He wasn’t sure how far he would have to go to get away from the church, but it didn’t matter; he would go as far as necessary.
His thoughts turned to the potion he had been making for Kara and Keenan and he chuckled. The mirth soon passed, and thoughts of Ocklamoor came unbidden to him. He couldn’t understand why the fools were trying to get the damn shield anyway. If it really was Kelcer, then the smartest thing they could do would be to get as far from Telur as possible.
Could Flare really be the one prophesied about? It seemed doubtful, but there were quite a few things unsettling about the half-elf. He dismissed thoughts about Flare from his mind. The church is more than capable of handling one poorly trained half-elf.
He was still lost in thought when there came a soft tapping at his door. He sat up and swung his feet over onto the floor. “Yes?” he called out.
“Sir, it’s Arina. May I check the room?”
Enstorion frowned at the interruption and glanced to the window. The sun was barely up, so why would the maid be here at this hour?
He crossed the room and opened the door. He was about to say that his room didn’t need anything, but he never got the words out. As soon as he opened the door, he noticed the maid being held tightly by a man; a man that he recognized from Mul-Dune. It was one of the very men that had captured them and imprisoned them in the underground remains of Dahl-Rucka. He tried to step back into the room, tried to give himself more time to cast a spell, but he was too slow. The second man in the hall was ready for him. The second man was also a mage, and he had started his spell long before the door opened.
Victory and Defeat: Book Five of the Restoration Series Page 16
