Ossendar: Book Two of the Resoration Series (23 page)

Flare felt weak in the knees, and moved to a chair and sat down without asking permission. He shook his head, “I'm amazed at this. I never would have dreamed that this would happen.” Why had this happened? It seemed more than coincidence, and Angaria pushing this unnerved him.

The silence hung in the air for several moments, before Flare asked, “So what is the plan? How is this to happen?”

King Darion smiled. “I am leaving that up to you. The fewer people that know about this, the better. I don't even want to know your plans, but you have to be back by summer, and it's a long trip to
Mount
Ogular
. And you had better leave soon, or you'll get caught by winter.”

Duke Angaria was not pleased, “But sir. I think it's important for us to make sure that whatever plan they choose; that it's a good one.”

King Darion shook his head, “No. I've been thinking about this. It's almost impossible for secrets to be kept in this castle, so no one is to know the plan except for Flare.”

“Uh, excuse me, but what did he mean by 'whatever plan they choose?'” Flare asked confused.

The king looked confused for a moment, but then his face brightened, “Oh, of course we're not sending you by yourself. Your squad of guardians will accompany you.”

“My lord, this is too important to be left to such an inexperienced youth. For this to be successful, a carefully crafted plan will be needed.”

“No, Angaria. My mind is made up.” Angaria looked as if he would object more, but a nasty look from the king silenced him. “Flare, you will devise the plan yourself, but keep it as quiet as you can. If you have any questions, then Lord Maltin is available to you.”

Chapter 8

Flare sat in his room. The events of the meeting had surprised and confused him. It bothered him that Duke Angaria would advocate so strongly in favor of sending him after the sword of Osturlius, but the fact that he was studying magic and sorcery and he was now being sent for the sword astounded him. It couldn't be just mere coincidence.

Just a few days ago, he had wondered how he could ever go after the sword without being hunted by the Telurian soldiers. And now, the king had ordered him to go after the sword, and what's more, the church supposedly was giving its blessing. It couldn't be coincidence, but was it something more? Was it divine guidance? That thought came unbidden, and he chased it from his mind.

The king had said he had spoken to the High Priest, Dalin Olliston, and that the High Priest had approved this mission. That couldn't be right, it just couldn't be. Which meant one of two things. His father, the king, had lied to him, or Dalin Olliston was setting a trap. If it was a trap, then who was it for? Flare? The King? Or, perhaps worst of all, both of them.

“What does it all mean?” Flare asked of the air around him as he tried to sort the various possibilities out.

Later that night, a tired and bedraggled Flare walked the corridors heading to Dagan's apartments. He still was in shock at the events of the morning, but the shock was slowly fading into wariness. The feeling that this was a trap grew with every passing moment.

He barely noticed the trip through the corridors; everything seemed to pass in a haze. Even the secret door to King Wyndon's study barely drew a glance from him as he passed it by. One moment he was watching the floor as he left his room, and the next moment he looked up to stare in surprise at Dagan's door. He glanced back down the hallway, surprised that nothing had registered as he walked. He turned back to the door and knocked on it twice, softly.

Almost at once a voice called from within, “Who in the name of the Abyss is calling at this hour?”

“It's me, Flare.” He leaned closer to the door, “Open up. I need to talk to you.”

Shuffling noises came from within the room, and momentarily the bolt on the door was pulled back, and the door was opened a hand's width. Dagan's skinny face peered out through the small opening, seeming surprised but pleased to see Flare.

“It's late, boy.” Flare shuffled his feet, and Dagan got a better look at his face. “You all right? You don't look too good.”

Flare glanced back down the hallway, “May I come in? I really need to talk to you.”

The old man looked him up and down, and then moved aside, curiosity shown in the old man's face. Not anxiety, just concern.

Dagan returned to the chair he had pulled close to the fireplace, pausing only long enough to wrap himself in a blanket. It was still only early fall, but the chill seemed to be affecting his old bones. “What's going on, boy? You look horrible.”

Flare took a chair that was opposite Dagan. This chair was further from the fire, and the warmth wasn't overpowering. It was quite relaxing to hear the crack and pop of the wood in the fire, and he stared into the flames for a moment. “I had a meeting with the King today.” Flare paused, not sure how best to say the words. “He is sending me after Osturlius' sword.”

A loud crash caused Flare to whip his head up, but it was only a cup that Dagan had dropped. Dagan hadn't seemed to notice the cup; he was staring intently at Flare.

“How did this happen? Tell me quick, and leave nothing out.” Dagan's voice was filled with urgency.

Flare relayed the story as best he could. Occasionally, Dagan interjected a question, but mainly he was quiet and let him tell the tale.

When Flare was done, Dagan leaned back in his chair. “Has to be a trap of some kind.” He was pale with a green tint and looked as if he would be sick any moment.

Flare nodded, “I thought so as well, especially with Angaria being so agreeable. But who is behind it? Angaria or the church?”

Dagan was silent for a long moment, “I would guess Angaria and the church both, it seems the only way that Dalin Olliston could be involved.”

Flare nodded, “I agree. I'm not sure what they have planned for me, but it can't be good.”

Dagan sighed, “So what are you going to do?”

“There's not much that I can do.” Flare said shrugging. “The king has ordered me to go after the sword. I really don't see choice.” He paused, “Dagan, do you think that the church will condemn me as the evil one prophesied about by Kelcer?”

The old man shook his head, “No. I think they have a nasty surprise in store for you. I mean if they let you come back with the sword and then condemned you, then they will have a made a powerful enemy out of the king of Telur, and I don't see that happening. Especially, when it would be so much easier just to kill you on the road.”

“Thanks for the pleasant thoughts.” Flare said trying to be light hearted, but failing miserably. “Any ideas?”

“Yes, well one anyway. Retrieve the sword and make it back alive. It seems to me that if you make it back alive with the sword, then the church won't be able to move against you right away. You will at least have bought some time for yourself.”

Flare leaned forward and rested his head in his hands.

“Angaria was right, though. The few parts of Kelcer that are clear are very specific, and you don't fulfill them.” He looked up at Dagan's words. “Kelcer is very specific about the prophesied one being born under the sign of the Prince, and everyone knows that you were born under the sign of the Tree.”

“Right,” Flare said quickly. He didn't like this topic at all. He didn't want anyone starting to questioning what they 'knew' about him. “Wait. When we talked about the Kelcer prophecy before, you didn't remember much about it. Did you get a copy?”

Dagan shifted in his chair, “Uh, no. But I have been thinking about it a lot since our last conversation.”

Flare stood and began to pace back and forth in front of the fire, “I don't understand what is so important about that sword.” He stopped moving and looked at Dagan, “Why does it matter?"

“Well, actually the sword is not important to the restoration of the Dragon Order, except that it is in the Kelcer prophecy.” He grinned, “What I mean to say is that if the Kelcer prophecy called for the prophesied one to wear Osturlius' rotten small clothes, then I guess the church would set a guard over them as well.”

The humor was lost on Flare. It felt like he was being pushed and pulled down a path that he wasn't sure he wanted to follow, but he didn't seem to have a choice. His stomach was queasy, and an invisible weight was planted right on his shoulders. “Dagan, what can you tell me about the sword and the catacombs under
Mount
Ogular
?”

Dagan sat up straighter in his chair. “Well, unfortunately, I don't know anything about the catacombs, just that they are there.”

Flare's spirits sank even lower at these words and despair threatened to overwhelm him.

“However, I can tell you a little about the sword.” Flare's gaze shot up and fixed on Dagan, who shifted under the scrutiny. “Well, the sword is famous and its history is fairly well known, plus ancient history is a specialty of mine.”

“Tell me,” Flare said quickly.

“Well,” Dagan began, shifting in his seat and motioning toward the chair where Flare had been sitting earlier, “Have a seat, this isn't a short story. I'm afraid that to tell you the story, I must tell you a lot of history.” He waited while Flare sat, “The sword was one of five such swords. They were called the divine blades.” He paused and glanced at Flare, “Flare, do you know the significance of the number five?”

Flare's brow wrinkled in confusion, “No. I didn't realize that there was a significance.”

Dagan nodded, “Most people these days don't. The ancient peoples, both human and elven, believed that five was a blessed number. There are a number of reasons for this, God the creator created five children gods to populate world. There are five elements; earth, air, fire, water, and spirit. The ancient peoples believed in five cardinal virtues. The body has five appendages; two legs, two arms, and the head.” He paused for a moment and collected his thoughts, “Anyway, the ancients believed in the power of the number five. So when the divine blades were created, it was only natural that there would be five blades forged.”

Flare was engrossed in Dagan's description, “who forged the blades?”

Dagan smiled, “The blades were forged millennia ago, well before the Dragon Order. And as such, their history is somewhat based on rumor and belief, but here is what I believe happened. There once existed an ancient order called the Brotherhood of Virtue. They sought to better themselves and the world by constantly living the five cardinal virtues. They thought that they could approach a godlike state, but they also believed that no man could ever reach that state without the help of a god. No man could make himself a god, unless he was helped by the gods.” He paused a moment, “Anyway, many learned men were members of the brotherhood; nobility, craftsmen, warriors, and such. One of these men was named Pellum of Carcon. Pellum was a magic-user, renowned for his ability as an enchanter. Pellum wrote that he was visited by the god Adel in a dream and warned that the evil creations of the god Thal were about to sweep down upon the races and that a great war was about to be fought.” Dagan paused to glance over at Flare, “You do know that the goblins and such were around before this, but that their numbers were small. Well, one of the blessings that Thal gave to them was the ability to reproduce quickly. While the humans and dwarves and elves and faerum lived and traded and sometimes fought amongst themselves, the goblins, ogres, and trolls were massing.” Dagan stopped and took a sip of water straight from a jug that had been sitting on the end table beside his chair. The cup that he had dropped earlier still lay in pieces on the floor.

“You're talking about the War, the first War of the Races. Aren't you?” Flare interjected, surprise and interest showing on his face.

Dagan nodded, “The first time that the good races were forced to band together and fight the evil races was the first War of the Races. However, the evil creatures had attacked before there were a sufficient number of them, and the good races defeated them after a drawn out struggle. Pellum tried to warn the kingdoms that the evil races were massing, and this time in much greater numbers, but they scoffed at the idea, so he did as he had been instructed to do. He, along with some of the best dwarven weapon smiths and other elven and human magicians, forged the five divine blades.” His voice dropped as he spoke, but Flare's attention was riveted on Dagan. “The first of the blades was Darsus.”

“Dawn?” Flare translated the name, surprise evident in his voice and on his face. “I don't understand. What does that mean?”

Dagan explained patiently, “When the swords were complete, one was given to the elves, one to the dwarves, one to the humans, one to the faerum, and the last went to the head of the Brotherhood of Virtue.” Dagan smiled, “The sword of the elves, was called Dawn in honor of the first race. It was given to the king of the elves, I believe it was King Celamon Lonthadellë. It had a light purple amethyst set in the center of the guard, right where the hilt and the blade are joined.”

Flare started at the name, Celamon Lonthadellë was a famous elven king of the early days. “Amethyst. Why Amethyst?” He asked.

“Amethyst was one of the five cardinal gemstones, and it represented air, one of the five elements. Each of the blades was identified with an element, and each had a different gemstone set in the center of the guard.”