Valley of the Ancients: Book Three of the Restoration Series

by Williams, Christopher

  "Are you believing this?" Heather asked of Dagan.

  Dagan hesitated. "I believe that our understanding of the prophecy is wrong and that the real meaning is still to be determined. The King's theory is as good as any and actually better than the Church's."

  Don't let Kara hear you say that, Heather thought. She turned her attention to the King. "So what does that mean for us?"

  "It's rather a tricky question," the King said. "Both the Church and the kingdom of Telur are looking for you and I do not want to anger either one of them. But, there's also the Kelcer prophecy and the fate of the world just might hinge on my decision."

  "So what is your decision?" Heather asked again, trying not to let her grumpiness show through.

  "I think what you're doing is important, but I can't just let you go. Word would get out about that."

  Heather took a deep breath and asked for a third time, "So what's to become of us?"

  "I have decided," the King said quietly, "that you are going to escape."

  Heather's forehead wrinkled in confusion and the first thought that came to mind was, trap, but that didn't make any sense. They were already captured.

  The King sensed her confusion. "Agminion is one of the very few that I trust completely. He will see that you get out of the city tonight and help you get out of my kingdom."

  "Won't this cause problems for your kingdom?" Dagan asked. "I mean won't Telur or the Church realize that this was a bit too easy?"

  "It will not be that easy," the King replied, "and Agminion will have to go with you to Saprasia.mbla me"

  Heather opened her mouth to protest and closed it without a word. If they could get out of here, then this sorcerer was welcome to come along. They could decide later if he was welcome to come the whole way or not. Another thought occurred to her and she spoke quickly, "I don't think we'll be up for riding today." She looked around. Mikela was sitting on the edge of her bed listening intently, but she still looked like she might be sick. Cassandra also looked sickly, but she was still laying down. None of the men had moved much but their groans were increasing in frequency.

  "Do not worry," the King answered, "just be ready. Agminion will guide you." With that, the King stood up and moved towards the door. He stopped and looked back. "Once this is all over, I had better not catch any of you in my kingdom again." Then he turned and walked out the door.

  Agminion glanced at Heather as he followed the King through the doorway.

  Chapter 24

  Flare came up through the pool of water and gasped. The pain in his head was nearly unbearable. The pain was like the worst kind of headache, beginning in his eyes and rising up and back over his head. He lost his footing and fell back into the pool, only to emerge a moment later coughing and spitting. He grabbed the side of the pool and held on, hoping that the pain would subside.

  "The first time is always the worst."

  Flare forced his eyes open and looked up over the pool edge. Pellum stood there, just as he had before Flare went to Sha'al. Had that been moments ago or decades? Frowning, he tried to decide how long it had been. He believed and knew that he had just entered the pool moments ago, but he also had memories of decades of training with Gregeggor. He tried to reconcile the differing memories but that only seemed to make his head hurt more.

  "Come on, out of the pool." Pellum said from where he looked down on Flare. He did not offer to help him up though.

  Flare pushed upwards on the bottom of the pool and flopped his chest on the ground around the pool. He then rolled over onto his back, which pulled most of his body from the water, leaving only his left foot bobbing in the water. That little exertion caused the pain in his head to spike and rolled onto his side and heaved, empting his stomach of his breakfast and a lot of water. After a moment it stopped and the pain subsided.

  "If that's what is going to happen every time, then I'm never going back." Flare said when he managed to find his voice.

  Pellum knelt down beside Flare. "As I said, the first time is the worst. It will not be so bad next time."

  'Next time.' The words nearly made Flare start dry heaving again but the feeling passed after a moment. "What now?" he asked.

  Pellum smiled. "It's time for me to go. I suggest you change your clothes and find something to eat."

  "Don't talk about food," Flare said quickly, through gritted teeth.

  Nodding, Pellum stood up. "You're doing fine. Whatever happens, I'm sure you'll do your best. When it's timerselhe gre to return, you will know."

  Flare looked up, not sure of what to say. As he was watching, Pellum disappeared. Rolling over, he was not surprised one bit to see that the statue on the far end of the pool was once again in place.

  He rolled over one more time, just to get a little farther away from the edge of the pool and then fell asleep. He didn't even bother taking his wet clothes off.

  Flare awoke with a start and sat up quickly. With relief he realized his headache was mainly gone. The second thing that occurred to him was that he was famished. Pulling his pack to him, he sat on the floor in front of the statues and tore into the food. With difficulty, he forced himself to stop eating sooner than he would have liked. He had a long journey ahead of him and he would want his rations for the trip.

  Sighing, he repacked his pack and stood up. He looked around the room at the statues again, wondering who he would meet next time. He assumed that each of his teachers were represented by a statue. Would they all take as long as the first one had? He thought not, but wasn't sure.

  Shouldering his pack, he began retracing his steps back out of the caverns. Strange, but he could remember coming in here a day ago, but at the same time if also felt like years and years.

  His clothes were dry and stiff, a testimony to how long he slept. At least the room of statues had been warm, he shuddered at the thought of sleeping in the cool mountain air in his wet clothes.

  He wandered back through the creature's lair and passed through without incident. He emerged into the mist around the waterfall, once again naked with his clothes wrapped in his pack. The return trip took less time than on the way in and he soon found himself back on the far side of the river.

  It was mid-afternoon and Flare began his journey back toward the valley entrance. He scanned the sky constantly, determined not to let another of the flying creatures attack him unaware. He walked slowly, still feeling ill from his first journey to Sha'al. He wasn't in a hurry though, and stopped well short of sun-down at the first good campsite he found.

  He slept soundly that night and awoke the next morning feeling even better than he had yesterday. It was a little disturbing how long he slept though, the sun had been up for at least several hours when he finally rolled out of his blankets.

  After a hurried breakfast, he got packed up and moving. The travelling was easy and more enjoyable than on the way into the valley and Flare made good time.

  He approached the entrance to the valley, and the accompanying statues, in the mid-afternoon. His steps slowed as he surveyed the statues. They were all facing away from him, but he wondered if their gazes would follow him as they had before.

  He slipped between two of the statues and this time he didn't look back. The statues were creepy but he no longer believed they were dangerous, at least not to him. They were guardians of a sort, placed in the valley mouth to keep out everyone except those who would join the Dragon Order.

  The area was overgrown with vegetation, bushes and small trees made travelling difficult, but he forced his way through. Within minutes the trees began to get taller and Flare passed under wide branching limbs.

  The hairs standing up on the back of his ne;

  Flare popped to his feet and Ossendar was already in his hand.

  Two men dropped to the ground from one of the overhanging tree limbs. Both men held short swords at the ready.

  Before either man moved, Flare was presented with an opportunity and he seized it. The man on the left held his short sword
loosely, the point of the sword pointing towards his friend. Reaching out with his spirit, he grabbed the short sword and jerked it towards the man on the right. There was no time for either man to react and the sword caught him in the face. He went down screaming, his hands to his eyes.

  The man on Flare's left was still off balance and Flare drove Ossendar at him, hoping to skewer him quickly. At the last moment, the mysterious attacker pivoted, turning his body to avoid most of the blow from Ossendar. Instead of stabbing the man, Ossendar slid across the man's clothing, still managing to cut him but not overly deep.

  The attacker jerked his arm free of Flare's sorcerous hold and hit Flare in the face with his elbow.

  Jerking backwards, Flare just managed to get Ossendar up and block the other man's short sword. There was a clank and the two men backed away from each other slightly.

  Flare took another step back, giving himself a little more room. The men didn't wear the insignia of the Telurian army, but he couldn't think of who else they might be. He shook his head. His headache from two days ago had seemed almost gone but using sorcery had made it come roaring back.

  There was the sound of a twig snapping behind him and Flare whirled, Ossendar screamed as it sliced through the air.

  A third man, one that Flare hadn't seen yet, jabbed his sword at Flare. Only Flare's spin saved him. The blade was aimed at his gut, but it missed, instead slicing across his left side. The cut was a nasty one but Flare didn't let it slow him down.

  The new arrival tried to jump back away from Flare's swing, but he was too slow. If he had been wearing a helmet, then the blow might not have been too bad, but as the man's head was bare, the blow was disastrous. The blade hit him along the left side of his head, just above the ear. The blade bit deep and the attacker went down without a sound.

  Reversing his swing, Flare spun the sword the opposite way, hoping to catch his original attacker off guard. The original attacker had tried to take advantage of Flare's attention being diverted, but he was too slow, perhaps from the cut that he had received from Ossendar. Regardless, the man was still too far away.

  Taking a deep breath, Flare clamped his left hand down on the cut in his side. It wasn't major, assuming he could tend to it soon.

  More sounds came from behind him and Flare looked around. Two more men were coming up quickly, they too had swords drawn.

  This was quickly getting beyond his ability to win as a sword fight, so Flare cast around for what other options he might have. Only one thing came to mind and he took a deep breath, knowing this was going to hurt. Sorcery was his best option, so he seized his spirit.

  Like he had done against the winged creature in the valley, Flare seized six stones. Each of the rocks were about the size of man's head. He raight="0">

  Even though his head felt like it was about to split open, Flare nevertheless took advantage of the situation. He swung Ossendar downwards at the original attacker. The man had gone to his hands and knees and Flare took his head off with one blow.

  Turning, Flare noticed that one of the other two attackers was dead as the rock at flattened in his head. The other attacker was lying on his side, his shoulder appeared to be broken or dislocated.

  Flare took a step towards the man and nearly lost his balance. His head was throbbing and he knew that his use of sorcery had been too much, at least in his current state.

  He hobbled over to the man with the broken shoulder and placed the tip of Ossendar against the man's chest. "Who are you? Are there anymore in the woods?"

  The man stared up at Flare and there was no mistaking the hate in his eyes. "I'll never help you," the man spat. "Better to die than be cursed by helping you."

  "Okay," Flare said and shoved Ossendar downwards.

  He pulled Ossendar free of his attacker and froze. He could hear the sounds of more men, they were to Flare's left but they were coming fast, at least judging by the noise they were making.

  Flare turned and ran to his right, moving south parallel to the mountains. He stumbled and nearly fell on his face, but somehow regained his balance and kept running. I hope I'm making less noise than those chasing me, Flare thought. They're making so much noise that the High Priest in Telur can probably hear them. That thought had no more occurred to him than he realized that perhaps they were making a bit too much noise, perhaps there was a reason for the noise.

  Slowing his pace, Flare looked back over his shoulder but couldn't see anyone. He sure could hear them, they were stepping on sticks and tree limbs were catching on them as they ran.

  Flare was on the verge of stopping and facing his pursuers, regardless of whether or not he could use sorcery, when the decision was taken from him. One moment he was running along and then the next, he was hanging upside down in the air. His head dangling maybe two feet above the ground and he was slowly spinning.

  Dazed, Flare looked around for the rope or cord that was holding him suspended above the ground. The only problem was that there wasn't any. There didn't appear to be anything supporting him. It was then that he felt sorcery being used. His exhausted senses had missed it in his blind rush to evade his chasers. Probably just want they wanted.

  Ossendar had gone flying when he hit the trap and he could see it laying on the ground where it had fallen. As he wasn't being held by a rope it didn't much matter. Being held by sorcery, there was only one way for him to get free and that was to use sorcery. His head ached at the mere thought.

  Relaxing and breathing slowly, Flare tried to control his spirit, but it was like trying to catch raindrops with his hand. He struggled with it for several moments and then stopped, realizing that he wasn't alone. He spun himself in the air and saw a man standing there watching him.

  The newcomer was clothed in purple robes and a sword hung at his belt. He was heigirit, but clean cut with dirty blond hair over his ears. He had the appearance of a man that always keeps himself well groomed, but as sometimes happened, he seemed to have gone a little scruffy in the mountains. He had several days growth on his face and his clothes looked like he had been wearing them for at least a week. Those thoughts came and went quickly as something else grabbed Flare's attention. He could see the newcomer was using sorcery to control the trap that held Flare upside down, and he wore a sword.

  A chill raced up Flare's spine and he made another attempt to direct his spirit but it was elusive and kept wanting to slide away from him.

  The newcomer jumped forward and for the first time Flare saw that he held a tree limb that was several inches thick. The man swung the limb back and Flare frantically tried to shield his head but the robed man was too fast. He swung the limb, which in actuality was a club, and with a loud crack he brought the stick down hard on Flare's head.

  Flare's eyes rolled back into his head and he blacked out.

  Much later, Flare opened his eyes and for a moment wondered where he was. He was lying on his side with the setting sun shining directly in his eyes. He tried to roll over and realized for the first time that he was bound, both his wrists and his ankles.

  With his head still foggy, he managed to roll his whole body over. Two men sat eating near a small campfire. They looked up as he rolled over but then they went back to their meal.

  A third man, the one in the purple robes, stood from his place much farther back from the fire and walked over to where Flare lay on the ground.

  The memories came flooding back to Flare and he remembered this man. This man who used sorcery and carried a sword. "Who are you?"

  The man smiled and settled down on one knee next to Flare. "My name is Thomas."

  "What are you?" Flare asked. "You use sorcery and carry a sword."

  "As do you," Thomas answered, his smile remained in place. After a moment he continued, "I'm a monk in the Church of Adel."

  Flare grunted. "I don't believe the Church takes too kindly to swordsmen using sorcery. In fact, I don't think they much like sorcerers at all."

  Thomas nodded. "You are quite correct, but I
am a member of a very special order. I'm a monk in the Order of the Intercessor. My order was established some fourteen hundred years ago by the High Priest Zacharias Shaw. You see he had an epiphany and realized the way to be ready for your appearance was to train some of the Church's warriors to fight as you do."

  Flare's forehead wrinkled in confusion. "I don't understand. You think my actions are sacrilegious, so you fight me by using the same sacrilegious acts against me?"

  "The High Priest has given us a special dispensation that lasts until your death."

  "And then what?" Flare asked, "do you think they'll just forget about what you are?"

  Thomas shook his head, "No. After we return to Telur with you and you are put to death, then those like me will have to die as well." He stood up, "At least our deaths will be quick, unlike yours.&quondin contint; He turned, as if to walk away but hesitated, turning back. "Try to use sorcery if you wish, but that medallion around your neck is enchanted. You will not be able to use sorcery and the affects of trying will be excruciating." He smiled again, "Get some sleep. Tomorrow we begin our journey back to Telur and you will have to do a lot of walking. Unfortunately we do not have any horses. Before long we will reach a familiar place for you, Mul-Dune."

  "Mul-Dune?" Flare asked, surprised. "Why there?"

  "You can't climb back over the mountain with your hands bound and I will not undo them." Thomas leaned in close, "Dalin Ollinston himself wants you alive, so I won't kill you unless I absolutely have to, but punishment will be hard and swift." With that he turned and strode away.