Ossendar: Book Two of the Resoration Series (11 page)

For the second time today, Dagan was surprised. “You never heard about the Kelcer prophecy? I thought that it was commonly known.”

“Well maybe it is in the human world, but I never heard anything about it growing up in the elven court.”

“Well, let's see. Kelcer was a soldier, who went insane when his unit was wiped out. He was so mad that he was imprisoned in the tower in the courtyard, and he stayed there for a full year, before he jumped out the window to his death, and they found the prophecy in the tower after he jumped.” He paused briefly, “And it details the man who will be the next member of the Dragon Order. As you can imagine the church fears the restoration of the Dragon Order above anything else.”

Dagan paused to think, and Flare quick interjected, “Why does the church fear the Dragon Order so much? Sure some members of the order did some horrible things, but they also did some wonderful things. They kept the peace for millennia, but all people remember is the few that went bad. That doesn't make sense.”

“That's the way of people. After the demon-lord wars, the people wanted peace. They were tired of war and death and the church offered them the promise of peace. The church promised the people they would prevent wars like that from ever occurring again. The people were tired and they listened to the church eagerly. To this moment in time, there have not been any wars like the demon-lord wars. I mean there have been wars since, but not on the same scale.”

Flare knew Dagan was right but it still didn't make sense to him. He sighed and shook his head, “Okay, so what else can you tell me about this prophecy? Why do people even pay attention to it, if it was the work of a madman?”

“Well, Kelcer was certainly mad, but you can't discount the prophecy just because he was insane.” Dagan chuckled, “Some of the most important philosophical and theological works that I know of were done by people who were considered mad or insane. There are some who believe the gods speak through madmen.” Seeing the questioning look on Flare's face, Dagan quickly continued, “You see, it is believed that the gods want people to work for things. And prophecies are sometimes given to madmen so that it's not easy to understand them. If it was easy to understand, then everybody would understand and do the right thing, but apparently the gods want people to work for it.”

“Do you have a copy of the prophecy? I would like to read it and at least know what things I have done to catch the attention of the church. It shouldn't be too hard to find a copy, since it is so well known, right?” Flare asked.

“I don't have one, but I will see if I can track down a copy for you. It actually might be harder to find than you might think. The church does not like for the prophecy to be the subject of much study. I think they prefer for us to get our information from them.” Dagan said with a wry smile. “I guess there is something to be said for being the sole source of information.”

Flare nodded his head, “Okay, what else can you tell me about the prophecy?”

Dagan sat for several moments with his eyes on the floor, apparently thinking about what he remembered about the prophecy. “It's been a real long time since I looked at it, but I seem to remember something about being the heir to throne of Telur, also being the elven heir.” He paused for several moments, “Well, I guess you can see why the church would find you interesting. Who would have thought that the heir to the throne of Telur would also be the heir of the elven throne?”

'What would they think if they know that I was the actual blood heir and not just an adopted heir'
,
Flare thought. “What else do you remember?”

“Not much really, but I do remember that whoever restores the Dragon Order will wield the sword of Osturlius.” Dagan said quietly, his eyes firmly resting on the floor.

“The sword of Osturlius!” Flare exclaimed. “Well surely no one even knows where the sword is. I mean Osturlius died in a foreign country, and no one really knows the exact location.”

Dagan squirmed in his chair, “Well, actually the story goes that the sword is hidden deep in the catacombs beneath
Mount
Ogular
in the silver mountains.”

“Mount Ogular!?” Flare said in amazement, “Well how does anybody know that? I thought that Osturlius' death was a mystery.”

“That rumor has been around since the time of Osturlius' death. I always just thought that it was another rumor, but it's the only one I have ever heard of. You know that
Mount
Ogular
is the site of the last stronghold of Golteranth, don't you? It's there that the army of Golteranth made their last stand at the end of the demon-lord wars.” Dagan folded his hands across his lap, and gazed intently at Flare, “May I ask you a question? Do you intend to try to restore the Dragon Order?”

Flare opened his mouth to refute the suggestion, but something about the way that Dagan asked it gave him pause. “I have never thought of being a member of the order. In fact, the order is almost a curse these days, who would want to restart it?” Flare said.

“Why is the order a curse?” Dagan always seemed to question things that Flare had believed his whole life. “And if the order was cursed in error, wouldn't you want to restore the honor of the name of your forebear?” He asked.

Flare's brow wrinkled in confusion. All his life he had heard bad things about the Dragon Order, and Dagan made it seem normal to want to be a member. “Dagan, I have spent my entire life being told how bad that order ended and how lucky we were that the order was no more. You make it seem like I should want to be a member. You make it seem that I should want to restore the honor of Osturlius.”

“It was not my intention to make you want to be a member of the Dragon Order, instead it was my intention to make you think. I don't like it when you blindly follow things that you have been told without at least questioning them in your mind.”

“Well, I guess I never even really thought about it.” Flare said slowly. “I guess I sort of already am a member, I mean the order was a society of warriors who also practiced magic, and we both know that I do that.” He said after a couple of moments thinking about it. That thought chilled him to the bone; it was something he really hadn't considered before now.

“Hmmph!” Dagan said rather emphatically. “You don't even know the half of it, do you? You haven't even come close to being a member of the order, there is so much more that you would have to do. Actually the Dragon Order is a slang term for them. The actual name was from the elvish language, '
Alla
del
telnala da-dregen ordura'.
The last two words
'dregen ordura'
is where the term Dragon Order came from. Apparently, the humans who first heard the name thought the last two words sounded like Dragon Order.”

Flare was stunned. He had never heard the elvish name before but he knew what it meant. “Dagan, do you know what that means?” He asked, and then without even waiting for an answer, he continued, “It means the chosen of the gods. Why was the Dragon Order called the chosen of the gods?”

Dagan leaned back in his chair, assuming the posture of a teacher imparting knowledge to an enraptured student. “Ah, so you didn't have all the facts about the Dragon Order before you judged and condemned them.” Dagan said with a satisfied smile, “The Dragon Order has been around for millennia and I don't exactly know the details of its formation, but at one time there were hundreds of members in the order. There are stories about the power and might wielded by the order that would astound you; personally I don't know whether or not to believe the stories since some of them are so amazing and unbelievable. The order surrounded itself in mystery and guarded it secrets closely. I do not know how they got the name ' chosen of the gods'.”

Flare, with an evil grin on his face, leaned forward to emphasize his words, “So you drug out that explanation and you don't even know the answer! Is that correct?” He jokingly asked is a way similar to a parent scolding a child.

“Humph. Well at least I knew what the name of the order was,” was Dagan's sulking reply.

Chapter 4

That evening, Flare once again visited Hannah, in what was becoming a regular occurrence. He was enjoying the time that they spent together, and the fact that there were no strings attached. Their relationship was exactly what it was. It was a sexual relationship and although he did care for Hannah it simply wasn't love. He also felt that Hannah was developing a strong feeling of friendship for him. Being that there were so few people that he could trust, he really was glad for her companionship, amongst other things.

After his visit to Hannah's, he returned to the palace in the early hours of the morning. It seemed that all too often lately, he had not been getting enough sleep. He noticed as he walked home that there was a chill in the air. Fall arrived several weeks ago, but the temperatures during the day had remained warm, but the cool morning air chilled his bones.

He arrived back at his room without incident and quickly fell asleep. After all, he felt that he had earned the rest.

Flare was walking down a hallway; it was a hallway that he had walked down many times before. He recognized it as the hallway that led from Dagan's quarters back towards the main part of the palace. He walked quickly, unconcerned. The hallway dead ended into another long passage. He had come this way many times and to get to the newer part of the palace, he should turn left. However, as he stood there at the intersection, he looked at the door that blocked the turn to the right. It was unusual for a hallway to have a doorway to keep strangers out. Without even thinking about it, he reached out and tried the door. It opened easily enough and he could see down the hall from the doorway. It was apparent that no one used this section of the palace much. From where he was standing, he could see the dust on the floor and the cobwebs hanging in the corners.

On an impulse, he turned to the right and started down the hallway. He had never been this way before, but might as well explore it now. He was right about this hall not being used. The further he walked the more dust he disturbed. If anyone had walked this hall, they surely would have left tracks, but the only tracks that he saw were his own.

The lighting in the hall grew dimmer the further down the hall that he went. The only light that managed to find its way in, came from the few scattered cracks that allowed the light to filter through.

There were two benches on opposite sides of the hall that caught his attention. The one on his right was under a small crack in the wall that allowed light in, but was low enough where the light coming through the crack did not strike it. The bench was covered in dust, but he could still make out the red cloth that covered the padding. At one time, the two benches must have been identical; however the bench on the left was sitting in direct sunlight and had faded to a uniform dull brown color. There also was a faded tapestry that hung on the left hand wall; it was so faded that he couldn't make out the scene that it depicted.

He walked past the benches without even a glimpse back. The hallway took a sharp turn to the left and as he turned the corner, he noticed that there were cracks in the wall on both sides of the hallway, but all of the cracks that let light in were on the right hand side. This hallway must run along the outside of the palace. The further he walked, the more ancient things seemed to be. He passed a suit of armor that appeared to be an antique. There also were coats of arms hanging on the walls that he did not recognize. 'That's strange.' Flare thought,
'
I thought I was familiar with most of the family banners.'

He continued to follow the hall, until he reached an intersection. The hallway continued straight ahead, to the left, and to his surprise to the right. "Well, I guess I am no longer walking along the outside of the palace."

He started to turn left, when a whisper pulled him up short.

“Flaranthlas.” His name was whispered and for just a moment, he wasn't sure he had actually heard it.

He stopped dead in his tracks. His muscles all tensed up as he waited to see if he actually heard his name. He stood there for several moments but heard nothing more, except his heart beating loudly. Finally, he took another step through the intersection.

“Flaranthlas, this way.” This time the whisper was a little louder and he was sure that he heard it. It seemed to be coming from the right hand fork of the hall.

He turned toward the right hand hall where the whisper came from. It was dark down that hallway even to his elven sight. He took one step, sure that if somebody was down there, they had to be able to hear his heart beating.

Entering the hall, the darkness settled on him like a fog. Without thinking, he spoke a word of magic to generate light. The light illuminated the small room where he stood, surprising him since he thought this was a hallway not a room. The room was rectangular, deeper than wide. It had several metal brackets for torches to rest in and several exquisite tapestries hanging on the walls. The tapestries seemed unaffected by the passage of time. The floor of the room was covered by a brownish-red rug. A sofa sat against the wall on either side as he entered. There was a closed door on the far end of the room.

Clearly there was no one here, so whoever was calling him must be in the next room. He started across the room toward the distant door. He walked slowly, looking back and forth. Reaching the door, he reached out and turned the doorknob, opening the door into another room. The next room appeared to be a study or private library. Directly in front of him was a wooden desk and a high backed wooden chair. There was a large tapestry hanging behind the chair that depicted the victory in the demon-lord war. There were several other tapestries hanging on the other walls, but they seemed to be so rotten that he couldn't make them out. The walls also had several metal holders that were meant for torches, although no torches were there. A rug covered the floor but there was so much dust on it that he could only guess at the original color. Mostly empty bookshelves lined the walls, but here and there a few tattered books still remained lying on the shelves. There were no windows or doors in this room, except the one door that he had entered by.