It took only a few moments for him to swim the short distance to the shore and then he gratefully emerged from the water. The water was not overly cold, but it was extremely dark and nearly impossible to see into. He kept imagining horrible monsters or animals swimming around his legs.
He stood on the shore for several moments looking back out over the water. He was soaking wet and his clothes clung to him and water ran down his body. At least it was warmer here than it had been in the mountains. The reassuring pressure of Ossendar against his back was welcome, he would have been nervous coming here unarmed. The water was choppy but seemed normal. There was still something bothering him though. It took him a moment to realize what it was, there were no animals around. No fish or worms either. He scanned the grey skies but there wasn't a bird to be seen.
Pushing the absence of animals from his mind, Flare turned and started climbing the steep slope towards the keep. The going quickly got rough and he had to use his hands to help keep from sliding back down. The slope was rocky and on several occasions loose rocks nearly made him lose his balance, but he caught himself just in time.
At last, Flare emerged onto a plateau. It was small, maybe a mile long by half a mile deep. It was
thirregularly shaped and covered in thick grass. The keep was to his left overlooking the water, and the plateau stretched out to his right. At the end of the plateau, more steep hills reached up to the heavens. He was surprised to see a small garden, which had an abundance of vegetables growing throughout, and a small pen. A cow stood in the pen chewing her cud and watching Flare. The cow was the first animal he had seen since arriving here. Turning from his study of the cow pen towards the keep, he jumped back in surprise. A man stood behind him. The man wasn't threatening, but his sudden appearance made Flare's heart nearly beat right out of his chest.
The newcomer was an old man, thin with rough skin. His hair was long and bright white, and reached down past his shoulders. His beard was equally as white and it hung down his chest. He had a long nose and he studied Flare from under enormously thick eyebrows.
Flare began reaching for Ossendar, but forced himself to stop almost at once. So far this old man had not done anything to him, so there probably wasn't any reason to assume he meant any harm. "Forgive me," Flare said, "but you startled me."
"Sorry boy. It wasn't my intent." The man's voice was deep and gravelly, making it difficult to understand him. "I'm Gregeggor of Melagar." He paused, as if expecting Flare to say something.
Not sure what to say, Flare felt the prudent thing to do was to introduce himself. "My name is Flare, uh, Flaranthlas Eldanari," he said, slightly embarrassed at his stumbling over his own name. The man's sudden appearance must have bothered him more than he thought.
"I know who you are," Gregeggor's deep voice said. "Do you know who I am? And more importantly, do you know what I am?"
The first thought that popped into Flare's head was you're a ghost, but he didn't feel that would be a considerate thing to say so instead he shook his head. "I'm sorry but I don't believe I've ever heard of you."
Gregeggor's face fell. "There was a time when every one of your Order knew me and was amazed to be my pupil." He sighed deeply, "That was a long time ago, though. I don't remember the last one of you who knew my name."
"I'm sorry," Flare said, meaning every word. He wished he had heard of the old man before. It certainly would have made both of them feel better. It would have soothed the old man's pride but it also would have told Flare something about who he was dealing with.
Gregeggor waved away Flare's words. "Doesn't really matter, I guess." He turned towards the keep, "Come on. Let's get inside before it rains." He began walking, albeit rather slowly.
"Excuse me," Flare said, dutifully following the old man towards the keep, "but who tends the garden. They're doing a wonderful job."
The old man grunted. "No one tends the garden, and no one needs to. Pick all you want and tomorrow the plants will be loaded down again." He motioned towards the cow. "That cow will give milk every day that you're here." He glanced back at Flare, "And that will be years."
"Years?" Flare repeated, a sense of melancholy settled down on his shoulders.
Gregeggor smiled, "One does not learn to be a master sorcerer in a fe pla a w months."
"Sorcerer?" Flare echoed. He hadn't known even what it was that Gregeggor did.
"Yes," Gregeggor answered, pushing the door to the keep open.
Flare followed the old man through the doorway. The inside of the keep was open, the base of the tower was a single room. Several tables and two cots were scattered around the large room. A staircase spiraled around the exterior wall, climbing to the darkness above. A fire burned in the ancient stone fire pit. Flare closed the door behind him, welcoming the heat from the fire. He hadn't realized how cold the breeze blowing on his wet clothes was making him.
Gregeggor moved over and sat on a stool next to the nearest table. He motioned for Flare to sit, which he promptly did. "Now," began Gregeggor, "do you know anything about sorcery?"
"Yes," Flare answered, pleased that he wasn't completely ignorant. "I trained for several months with the master sorcerer of the kingdom of Telur."
"Several months?" the old man asked hesitantly.
Flare suddenly remembered his comment when they were entering the keep, 'One does not learn to be a master sorcerer in a few months.' He could feel his face growing hot. "Well," he said after a moment, "it is forbidden for a warrior to learn sorcery. If either one of us had been caught we would have been executed."
"Executed!" Gregeggor roared, springing to his feet. "Did you say executed?"
Somewhat taken aback, Flare nodded. "Yes. Several millennia ago there was a terrible war. The last members of the Dragon Order fought on opposing sides. It nearly tore the world apart. After the deaths of the last members of the Order, warriors have been forbidden from learning magic or sorcery."
"And what about wizardry?" Gregeggor asked. His eyes were still wide and his face was flushed. "Are warriors allowed to learn wizardry?"
"No one is allowed to learn wizardry," Flare answered quietly. "I believe it is a forgotten art."
Gregeggor slowly sat back down. "Fools. How can they believe wizardry has been abandoned? There has to be someone in the world who still follows the old ways."
"Maybe," Flare conceded, "but not that I know of."
The old man turned his attention back to Flare. "Show me what you know of sorcery," he commanded.
Feeling a little self-conscious, Flare dutifully ran through the things that he knew. Taking control of his spirit, he used it to move a chair from against one wall to over near the door. He continued and ran through the few things he knew how to do, all the while Gregeggor's face continued to darken.
When Flare finished his demonstration several moments later, Gregeggor leaned forward and said. "So the answer to my question is no, you do not know anything about sorcery."
There was a momentary spike of anger in Flare's belly, but he refused to let it show. He didn't know what to say so he wisely kept his mouth shut.
Gregeggor snorted, "Perhaps after you return to your world you can send this master sorcerer to me, andiv then I can train him properly."
Flare smiled at that. The thought of Dagan studying under this man was a rather enjoyable one.
Chapter 18
Trestus sat on an old, half-rotten log near the edge of the small village. It was early in the morning but it was already getting hot. Summer had definitely arrived, even the nights were getting unbearable.
He, along with the rest of the Guardians, was getting more and more upset by the delay of waiting for this 'Master of the Forest.' They should have left several weeks ago and they could be halfway to Telur by now.
He sighed and shook his head. Derek and Keenan had quite a different opinion on how to proceed. Keenan was all for stealing away quietly in the night and making a run for freedom, fighting along the way if they needed
to. Derek had flat out refused the idea, going so far as to threaten to turn Keenan in, and Trestus had agreed with Derek at the time. But that had been weeks ago and still they were forced to wait in this village. He was beginning to think that Keenan may have been right and he could see that Derek was coming to the same conclusion. In the next day or so, he would probably need to talk to Derek again. Even though Derek would not enjoy taking Keenan's idea after so long a time, it might be the only option left for them.
He idly tossed a small stone, listening as it descended through the thick brush. Karina and Reega were also troubling his thoughts. He hadn't seen the boy since their little fight in the woods, nearly a week ago. He had decided to apologize and try to work things out with the little brat, but the boy was nowhere to be found.
He had only seen Karina once since the encounter at the stream and it had not gone well. She had surprised him while he was walking in the woods. Caught off guard, he had smiled and opened his mouth to apologize to her about the stream incident, but he hadn't managed to get a word out. Thick vines had grabbed his arms and legs and before he could speak, she had slapped him across the face. She seemed to think that he had something to do with Reega's disappearance, either directly or indirectly due to the incident at the stream. She had even threatened him about what would happen if Reega did not return, before stomping away. She had left him standing in the forest with his arms bound by thick vines. After he struggled against the vines for some time, they had just released him and gone limp.
The incident with Karina had only increased his desire to be away from these people. He wanted to leave their village and their forest and never see any of them again.
He sighed again and tossed another stone. Yes, it was almost time to try to escape. At least with Reega gone they wouldn't have to fight every squirrel and toad between here and the edge of the forest.
Lost in thought, Kara wandered along the edge of a small gulley that ran just to the back of the village. It seemed that the small village used this gulley as a dump for all their trash. Actually, that wasn't quite true. The villagers did not throw their old food in this gulley, that was given to the couple of cows and the lone pig that they possessed. Even these villagers knew better than to dispose of their food scraps this close to their homes.
From where she stood, she could see old half-rotten clothes, broken furniture, and even some tree limbs that must have been growing too close to the village. The bottom of the gulley had puddles of water here and there, as it always seemed to rain in the afternoons.
Unlike the others, she was not too bothered by the long delay in this forest. Returning to Telur would undoubtedly mean exile or death for her. The Church would not look favorably on her after she disobeyed an order from an archbishop. The thought of dying did not scare her but there were other worries on her mind. If the church decided to execute her, as was their right, then she greatly feared that Derek and Trestus might try to interfere. That would be disastrous for them and their families. Her sin was her own and she didn't want others to be touched by it.
What she had done seemed like the right thing to do, and as a matter of fact, it still felt right. She was confident that the Church would see things differently. That bothered her. In this instance, she believed that the Church was wrong. Before now, she had always seen the Church as infallible, but not anymore. She had always believed that the Church was divinely guided by Adel himself. Was that no longer true? Did men now lead the Church astray? Or perhaps even worse, was she being led astray by someone or something unknown?
Lost in thought, Kara stepped closer to the gulley. Something had glinted at the bottom and she idly wondered what it could be. The sides of the gulley were still wet from the constant raining and collapsed under her weight. Caught completely by surprise, Kara fell straight down, rolled several times along the side of the gulley, and came to a stop lying in the middle of a particularly foul puddle of water.
The water was cool and actually didn't feel too bad in the heat of the day. Unfortunately, it did smell rather awful.
After a moment of trying to make sure she wasn't injured, Kara pushed herself to a seated position. She was relieved that she hadn't broken a bone, but she knew that she must look a sight. Covered in mud and dirt and soaking wet with stinking foul water, she chuckled after a moment. "Good thing the others aren't with me," she said aloud. She would have hated for anyone to see her attack of clumsiness or to see her lying in this puddle.
She moved to get to her feet but froze, realizing what the glinting object was that she had seen from the top of the gulley. It was a mirror, actually broken shards of a mirror. Someone had tossed a square mirror into the gulley recently. Probably one of the villagers had cracked or somehow broken their mirror and just disposed of it in the same way they disposed of everything else. It had shattered and pieces were scattered all around. The scary part was that several of the shards had stuck in the mud and were pointing skyward. If Kara had landed several feet to her right, then those shards could very easily have impaled her.
She couldn't die. She had to get back to Telur so that the Church could kill her. It wasn't actually a very funny thought, but it did make her chuckle at the foolishness of it all. Her laughter felt out of place, perhaps because it had been so long since she had actually laughed.
Climbing to her feet, Kara moved over and picked up one of the larger shards of mirror. The reflection that looked back made her grimace. She was completely covered in mud and dirt. It was caked in her hair and smeared across her face. Perhaps, she thought while still looking in the mirror, I should take a swim in the stream before I go back to the village. At least that will get most of the mud dum get off of me.
Suddenly, a woman's face appeared in the mirror, just to the right of Kara's.
Kara nearly screamed and she quickly turned around to see who was behind her. There was nobody there. Swallowing hard, she turned back around to look at the mirror. The woman's face was still there, but she looked funny, like there was a small tunnel between them filled with water.
"Kara? Have you been rolling in the mud?" the woman asked.
The anger fled from Kara and was replaced by indignation. She knew she looked pretty bad, but this woman in the mirror didn't look all that much better.
The woman was pale and looked rather skinny. Her hair was pulled back and that only emphasized the narrowness of her face.
"Who?" Kara cleared her throat and started over, "Who are you?" It wasn't every day that she carried on conversations with people in mirrors.
The woman's head tilted to one side. "I'm Cassandra. Former Magician to the King of Telur."
Kara's eyes widened. Now that she knew the woman's identity, she didn't know why she hadn't seen it before. Well, actually she did know. Cassandra always looked perfect, never a hair out of place, but this woman looked a whole lot more ordinary. Then the words of the woman registered, "What do you mean former Magician to the king?"
"I fled Telur with Dagan and Atock. Have you returned to Telur?"
Puzzled Kara shook her head. "No. Did you say with Atock?"
"Yes," Cassandra answered nodding. "I have much news to tell you and you'll have to be patient. First of all, Flare was successful in retrieving Ossendar and returning to Telur."
The words caused Kara's breath to catch in her throat. He did it, she thought to herself, wondering if that was good or bad.
Cassandra took a deep breath and continued, "He arrived there over a month ago with Atock. I'm sorry to tell you this but Philip did not survive."
Tears briefly welled up in Kara's eyes, but her grief was momentarily forgotten as Cassandra continued speaking.
"The King went back on his word to Flare and took the sword from him."
Good, Kara thought quickly. Perhaps the Church will let this go.
"So Flare stole the sword and fled Telur."
The words were like a bucket of ice-cold water being thrown on Kara. Her skin prickled in goose pimples and she
shivered. "What does that mean? He can't be the one," she said quietly.
"Kara," Cassandra said, moving slightly closer, "you know Flare and you know he's a good man."
Kara nodded her head absently, her whole body felt numbed. "Why did you flee Telur?"
"None of Flare's friends will be safe. We ran for our lives." She paused for a moment as if listening to someone else, "Tell Trestus that we got his mother and sister out as well, the same for Derek's family." For the briefest of moments she looked irritated and Kara thought she could hear other voices in th="54we got e background. That moment quickly passed and Cassandra continued, "We met Heather's group in Eled Aminor. We stole an original copy of the Kelcer prophecy to try and better understand what is happening."
Kara nodded, still feeling numb. Could it be true? Was Flare Kelcer's destroyer? The monster the Church had dreaded for nearly two thousand years. She just couldn't believe it. It just couldn't be true.
"Dagan insists there are some discrepancies between the original prophecy and the Church sanctioned one. Besides Ossendar, there are three other items that Kelcer says will identify the restorer of the Dragon Order. They are the helmet of Ashteroth, armor made from a black dragon that's called Nerandall or Night Shadow, and a dwarven shield called Ocklamoor which means Flowing Stone."
"I don't understand," Kara said, but cut off as Cassandra talked over her.
"This is very important. It seems that the helmet of Ashteroth was kept in the same room from which we stole the Kelcer prophecy. We did not know about the helmet until after Dagan had a chance to look through the prophecy and by that time it had been stolen."
Kara's first thought was Flare and that saddened her. She respected him and even owed him her life. There had to be another explanation. There just had to be. "Did Flare steal it?" she asked quietly.
"No." Cassandra answered emphatically. "We don't even think he knows about these three items. It was stolen by a man that Aaron says is a lieutenant of Zalustus."
Valley of the Ancients: Book Three of the Restoration Series Page 21
