Into the Wastelands: Book Four of the Restoration Series

by Williams, Christopher

  “Go get Belgil,” Flare said to the nearest guard and then looked back at the bodies.

  The guard looked highly affronted. “I don’t follow orders from humans.”

  Flare turned back quickly, anger blossoming through him. “You get Belgil now, or you can explain to him how you failed to report an assassination attempt on my life.”

  It wasn’t the words that Flare used that got results, but the unvoiced threat that he projected. His words seemed to vibrate with energy. The guard jumped and charged out of the room and the second guard took several steps back. His eyes kept shifting from Flare to the two dead dwarves.

  It took nearly half an hour for Belgil to arrive, which wasn’t bad considering the guard had to find him and then they had to make the return trip. The dwarf was a little out of breath as he stepped into the room. His eyes were constantly moving, soaking up each and every part of the scene. After several moments he looked up at Flare, “You all right?”

  Flare nodded. “These two tried to kill me. Any idea why?”

  Belgil didn’t answer right away, instead he studied the two attackers. The one who had been crushed by the stone bench was clearly visible, but Belgil had to use his foot to turn the head of the dwarf floating in the pool. After a moment, he looked up from the dead dwarf, “Leave us.”

  For the briefest of moments Flare didn’t understand what Belgil meant. Then he realized the two dwarven guards were leaving through the open door, pausing only long enough to close it behind them.

  “What is it Belgil?” Flare asked quietly. Whatever it was, he was sure he wouldn’t like it.

  “These two are followers of Councilor Emlin.”

  “Emlin is trying to have me killed?” Strangely he wasn’t overly surprised. He was beginning to think that everyone he met wanted him dead, and since he was linked to the Kelcer prophecy, that might be the truth. “I suggest you inform the king.”

  Belgil sighed deeply before he shook his head. “I don’t think it would be wise to accuse Emlin.”

  Flare looked incredulous. “What? But you said these men are his.”

  “They’re his followers, but not his soldiers or servants. Undoubtedly he will just say that they acted on their own.”

  Rubbing his eyes with his hands, Flare considered Belgil’s words. “So if we accuse Emlin, we have no real proof and we’ll just come off looking petty. Is that about it?”

  Belgil nodded, his expression becoming thoughtful. “However, if I brought this attempt on your life to the king’s attention without implicating Emlin, then perhaps I can convince him to give you an audience.”

  Flare nodded, “Then by all means, make the king aware.”

  “All right,” he motioned for the door. “Let’s get you back to your room and then I’ll go and seek an audience with the king.”

  It was mid-morning when Heather led the small group back through the plateau to their campsite. Atock and Enton were not going to like this plan. Hell, most of her group wasn’t going to like it, but it was the only plan they had.

  She stopped just short of the mound where they had made camp the night before and motioned for those following her to wait there. She stepped beside the mound and climbed up on several piled stones. A quick jump and she caught the top of the wall and pulled herself up to look over. She froze at the sight of the deserted camp. No one was there.

  She dropped back down and looked around. Suddenly she was getting a bad feeling about this.

  Warren and the others were watching her and she shrugged. “They’re not here,” she said, or started to say, but she never finished the sentence.

  Warren and his men dropped their hands to their swords as the Guardians and the rest burst from hiding and surrounded them. Everyone of her people held a weapon, except Dagan and Cassandra.

  Enton was first and he pointed his sword at Warren, “Surrender your weapon.”

  Heather scrambled to try and stop an unnecessary fight, but Agminion beat her to it. He stepped in front of Warren and stared down the length of Enton’s blade. “Lower your weapon, fool.”

  Enton blinked in surprise and his forehead was just drawing down in anger when Heather reached Agminion’s side. “Do as he says, Enton,” she said quickly.

  Enton took a deep breath and then lowered his sword.

  “Everyone,” Heather called to the rest of the group, “lower your weapons. These men are allies.” She was careful to not call them friends. Just because they fought a common enemy did not mean their goals aligned.

  Dagan pushed his way past the fighters to stand directly in front of Heather. He studied the men for a moment before he spoke. “Who are they?”

  Heather ran down their names and then the names of her group. She quickly recapped the night’s events, starting with the goblin assembly, the humans from Mul-Dune, and ending with the armor being hidden in the mine. At this Dagan gasped.

  “The mine? Do you mean the dwarven mine of El’alador?”

  “So you have heard of it?” Heather asked, not really surprised.

  “Of course I have,” Dagan said quickly. “I’ve heard of most of the dwarven mines and outposts in these mountains. I know a little more about this one since it’s tied so closely to Saprasia.”

  “Does this have to do with the dwarves and Faerum being so closely connected?” Heather asked. The old man’s look of surprise irked her just a little. He wasn’t the only one who knew things.

  “Yes it does,” Warren said, speaking for the first time. “It has been my job to guard Nerandall and these men and goblins are putting my mission in jeopardy. I can get you into the mine and then you will help me retrieve the armor.”

  Several of the Guardians looked surprised at that and Heather spoke quickly. “I have agreed to help Warren because it is in our best interest to keep the armor from both the Church and Zalustus. This seems the best way to do it.”

  “We can’t trust them,” Enton said. His tone was gruff and he didn’t even bother hiding his disdain for this plan.

  “No, we can’t,” Heather agreed causing looks of surprise on Warren and his men, “but they do need us.”

  “All right,” Atock said, “and how exactly will you get us in?”

  “The mine has several secret entrances. Several of them the goblins have already found, but I know of at least one that is still safe,” Warren said. He stepped forward to stand next to Heather. “While you may not trust us, I have given my word to you to get you into the mine. Once we’re in, then we’ll be in just as much danger as you are.”

  Atock and Enton shared a look, nothing was said verbally, but after a moment they reached some agreement. “And what happens to Nerandall once we get out of the mine?” Atock asked.

  “We are its guardians,” Warren answered, “we will protect it.”

  Enton sighed deeply and looked at Heather, “This is your decision?” She nodded and he shook his head slowly. “All right. What do you need us to do?”

  Warren smiled. “We need to get moving. Travelling by day is much safer than travelling at night. We’ll travel northwest to the mountains and to the secret entrance. Please, if we tell you to do something, please do not hesitate.”

  Judging by the looks on the Guardians’ faces, they were making no such promises.

  On a mound several hundred yards away, Tristan and Henry watched Heather’s group meeting with the five strangers through small spyglasses.

  “What do you think?” Henry asked.

  Tristan didn’t answer immediately. It was strange to see those bastards meeting with the outlaw Guardians. “I think those five men are taking the outlaws to the mine.”

  Henry lowered his spyglass and stared at his friend and commander. “How? I mean how will they get through the goblin hordes?”

  Shrugging, Tristan looked through the spyglass again. “They must have some secret way of getting in.”

  “But why take the criminals?”

  Actually it didn’t seem like a bad plan to Tristan. �
�If it was me,” he began, “I could see taking the outlaws as a diversion. Let them distract the goblins that are infesting the mine, while the others retrieve the armor. The goblins will most likely kill the Guardians and those men get away easily.”

  “With Nerandall?” Henry asked.

  “Yes, but they don’t know we’ll be waiting for them. We’ll follow them into the mine and wait on them there.”

  Henry nodded, “As long as we don’t use sorcery, they shouldn’t realize we’re there.”

  Belgil did not return until late afternoon. He knocked once on Flare’s door and then opened it and stepped inside.

  Flare looked up from where he lay on the bed. When he was in his room, it was pretty much all he did. “Well? Did I get an audience?”

  Belgil closed the door before he answered, “You did. Old Emlin wasn’t happy about it though.”

  “You think he had anything to do with those two who tried to kill me today?” Flare asked. He was tired of waiting and now he had a way out. Using wizardry, he could create a portal and leave. The only problem was that it meant leaving Ossendar behind and that wasn’t something he intended to do.

  “I would bet everything I own on it,” Belgil answered. “I think he was waiting on me to accuse him of trying to kill you and he was taken a bit by surprise when I didn’t. It follows that he was also surprised to hear that you still lived.”

  Flare pushed himself to a sitting position. “When do I get to meet the king?”

  “Now. He was very shaken by an assassination attempt in his kingdom.”

  “He was shaken?” Flare repeated with a smile. “How does he think I feel?”

  Belgil ignored Flare’s attempt at humor. “Listen very carefully to me. I advise you to be humble and respectful in the presence of the king. Emlin has, undoubtedly, been whispering how arrogant you are into the king’s ear. Don’t do anything to confirm it, all right?”

  Flare smiled but did not answer directly. If they were foolish enough to put him in the same room as Ossendar, then he intended to give them quite a show. It might be arrogance, but he intended to demonstrate to them what a fully trained sorcerer could do.

  Flare’s audience with the king did not happen for several more hours, during which time he received instruction from Belgil on how to interact with the king. Flare only half-listened as he had his own plans.

  Shortly after the evening meal, there came a soft knocking on his door. Belgil, who had taken his supper in Flare’s room, got up and opened the door. “Holgar!” he exclaimed in surprise.

  A dwarf that Flare had not seen before stepped into the room. He, like all the other dwarves, wore a leather tunic, belted at the waist. His hair, though, was a bit unusual in that it was a dark brownish red. All the other dwarves that Flare had seen to this point had dark black hair. This Holgar grinned at them from behind his thick bushy beard. Surprising Flare, the two dwarves hugged. He had not seen such displays of emotion from the other dwarves.

  Flare smiled at the new arrival and waited on Belgil to introduce him.

  After a moment, Belgil seemed to remember himself and he stepped back. He was smiling as he motioned at the dwarf, “This is my cousin Holgar.”

  Flare inclined his head, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He wasn’t sure exactly how the dwarven communities worked but he assumed that calling the dwarf a cousin meant he was actually related by blood.

  Holgar pointed his finger at Flare, “You’re causing quite the stir amongst the royals.”

  The dwarf said it in a jovial enough manner that Flare didn’t take offense. “It’s certainly not my intent. In fact, I would like nothing more than to just walk out the main gate.”

  “Really?” Holgar asked, “because I believe that is what the king is going to offer you.”

  “You’ve heard that?” Belgil asked looking astounded. “They’re just going to let him go.” His astonishment turned into a smile. “That’s good then.”

  “And Ossendar?” Flare asked, fearing he already knew the answer. “What is to become of my sword?”

  “Uh, yes. Well, the king thinks the sword should remain in Az’ha’rill’hadell, until the Dragon Order is restored anyway,” Holgar said. His tone had gone from emphatic to more reserved. “I suggest you accede to the king’s wishes. I don’t imagine you would like the alternative.”

  Belgil no longer looked happy, he was frowning now, looking back and forth between his cousin and Flare. “Flare?” he asked cautiously, “how will you respond?”

  On the outside Flare was calm but on the inside he was seething. He was just about through with everyone trying to kill him or steal from him. “I cannot answer until I have heard from the king,” he said. A sinking feeling was settling in and he was afraid the dwarves would not be stupid enough to bring Ossendar to the meeting. He endeavored to hold out hope though.

  “Speaking of which,” Holgar said, “we should be going.” He turned and led the way out of the small room.

  Belgil followed his cousin out, but he cast a worried look back in Flare’s direction.

  They were escorted through the tunnels by six guards and Flare felt reasonably sure that these were either Belgil’s or Holgar’s men. Two guards led the way, followed by Holgar, Belgil, and then Flare. The remaining four guards brought up the rear.

  Like his earlier trips into the tunnels, Flare was not impressed at first. The tunnels were cut through the rock and dirt and here and there wooden supports held up the ceiling. But after nearly half an hour, the tunnels took a noticeable upturn. First the wooden supports became stone pillars and gradually the whole tunnel was transformed. Gone were the dirt floors and rough walls, they were replaced with worked stone flooring and sculpted walls.

  Shortly before they exited the tunnel, Flare felt a change in the air and then they stepped forth from the tunnel into an enormous cavern. His mouth fell open as he saw, for the first time, the splendor of the dwarven city of Az’ha’rill’hadell. “I can’t believe it,” he said almost in a whisper.

  “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Belgil asked from beside him.

  The city was situated in an enormous cavern. The ceiling could not be seen in the deep shadows way over their heads despite the glow coming from the fungus along the walls. The fungus did not exactly make it bright, but it seemed almost like dusk. In front of them the cavern stretched on for a mile or so until the far end of the cavern was also hidden in the shadows. The dwarven city was made of the most beautiful stone buildings, with each one more glorious than the last. The buildings were covered with hand carved reliefs and statues. The buildings closer to them were shorter but farther away, as the cavern opened up, the buildings reached up into the darkness. Dwarves were moving about doing a variety of different tasks. He didn’t see any females, or if he did then he couldn’t tell they were female. Those that saw them stopped and stared and Flare felt his guards draw closer around them.

  “Where is the king’s palace?” Flare asked, wondering how far into the city he would have to walk.

  Belgil pointed over to their left, along the edge of the cavern. It seemed the cavern floor was uneven and that particular area was pushed up higher. The affect was that the king’s palace appeared to look out over the city. Unlike in human kingdoms, there wasn’t a wall surrounding the palace. Instead, there were steps leading up to an open area that would have been the palace grounds in a human city. A handful of guards watched them climb the steps and cross the grounds to the double doors. At their approach, the guards did not move and Flare thought it felt like a challenge of some sort.

  “So,” the guard in the front said, “this is the human?” He was an ugly brute of a dwarf. Almost as wide as he was tall, and he had a wide face that made him resemble a pig. He looked Flare up and down as he spoke, sneering the whole time. “We’re hoping the king will turn him over to us.”

  Flare chuckled at the stupidity of the dwarf. “I see intelligence isn’t a requirement to be a king’s guard.”

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nbsp; Belgil’s eyes went wide and the guards all went stiff.

  “What did you say?” the fat dwarf asked. He appeared to be trying to sort through the words. It looked like hard work.

  Belgil tried to lay a hand on his arm, but Flare shrugged him away. “I said you’re an idiot,” he said slowly. “First, I’m the only one in this city that could pass for a human so your statement was painfully obvious, with one exception. I’m half-elven or did you miss that?”

  The fat dwarf took a step forward. He was cut off by Holgar stepping in front. “Now Grom, you know the king is waiting on our guest. You wouldn’t want to explain why he answers the king’s summons all bloodied and bruised, would you?”

  Grom stopped and his piggy eyes narrowed. “Why are you here, Holgar?”

  Shrugging, Holgar started to step around the fat dwarf. “I just came to the city to see my cousin.” He came to a stop in front of the closed double doors. Twisting around he looked at Grom. “Are you going to let us in?”

  For a moment Flare thought this Grom might not let them in, but then Grom’s sneer returned and he motioned to the guard closest to the door.

  Belgil led Flare around the clump of guards but Flare was already trying to push them from his mind. Unfortunately, Belgil had other ideas.

  “Those are Emlin’s men that you just called stupid. I’m sure they would like nothing better than to kill you,” he said in an urgent whisper.

  Flare looked around to see why Belgil was whispering and then he noticed that the guards from the door had fallen in behind his own escort. “So?” Flare asked, “surely they won’t be so stupid as to attack me in the king’s palace.”

  “Maybe not, but what if the king asks them to escort you from the city?” Belgil demanded.

  Flare had to admit he hadn’t thought of that, but he wasn’t overly concerned. There were much bigger things to worry about. He would not leave the city without Ossendar and he felt he already knew where the dwarves stood on that issue.

  The trip through the palace was uneventful. It was the kind of place that Flare would like to have had an opportunity to explore on his own. He only saw a small portion of the first floor, but it was intriguing. The dwarves seemed to have an affinity for ancient relics and there were numerous items on display. There were several niches containing weapons of various types, but most of them were broken. The niches had descriptions carved into stone plaque, but the writing was dwarvish runes and Flare couldn’t read it. Not that his escort gave him the time to look around anyway. Every time Flare slowed, Belgil took him by the arm and gave a pull.