Ossendar: Book Two of the Resoration Series (24 page)

Flare stood up, stretching his legs as he moved away from the fire.

Dagan continued, not paying any attention to Flare's wanderings, “The second sword was called Malotin, which when translated means 'Child of Stone'. It was the sword presented to the dwarves, specifically to the dwarven king Rahget son of Olum. Set in the hilt was a brilliant green emerald representing earth.”

“I didn't think that most dwarves liked swords,” Flare said when Dagan paused.

Dagan scratched his chin, “Most don't these days, and it's easy to see why. Dwarves being so short tend to have better luck with an axe or hammer, plus they think that axes and hammers are blessed by their creator Orrik. However, when the sword was presented to Rahget, it was said that he could sense the sword calling him, and he wept at the song the sword sang to him.”

Flare stopped walking back and forth in front of the fire, a confused look on his face. “The sword sang to him?”

Dagan shrugged, “I don't know, but he claimed that it did even though no one else heard it.”

A brief silence ensued, both men being lost in their own thoughts. Dagan was the first to speak, “The third sword was called Olmara, which means 'Choice'. It was presented to the human king Broderick White.” Broderick had been one of the greatest rulers of the
kingdom
of
Lamaria
which had encompassed the entire known human world. No kingdom before or after had approached its magnificence. No enemy had defeated it; instead the kingdom had fallen apart after one of its kings had died without an heir. The king's generals tore Lamaria apart, each trying to be the new king.

“What stone was set in its hilt?” Flare asked.

Dagan seemed distracted, and Flare had to repeat the question. “Oh, a beautiful blue sapphire, it represented water.”

Flare sat back down in the chair opposite Dagan. Each of the swords had been given to famous kings and he felt sure he knew to whom the next sword had been given. Dagan was still silent, so Flare prompted him, “The next sword?”

Dagan looked up from the fire, a momentary look of confusion on his face. “What? Oh, yes.” He shifted in his seat and took another sip from the jug. “The next sword was called Gennosse, which means 'vengeance', and it was given to the queen of the faerum. Her name was Adalira Orina. Later, the sword came to be called Piltrum, which means 'Northum's folly'.”

Flare knew of the faerum, they had been created by the god Nephur as one of the four good races. Every last one of them had been killed in the Third War of the Races. They had resembled humans, except in size, the faerum had been giants compared to humans, easily nine or ten feet tall. They had been blessed with great intelligence and beauty, but they had lacked wisdom. In fact, the word faeru had once been used to describe a person who was intelligent but who still acted foolishly. Compared to humans, elves are serene and patient, but compared to those same humans, the faerum had been flighty.

“A ruby was in the hilt, representing fire,” Dagan said quietly. He thought about adding that it was fitting, since the faerum would go through such a fiery trial in the end, but instead he held his tongue.

Flare waited for Dagan to continue, but the old man was quiet for several moments, apparently lost in thought. After a moment, Flare prodded him, “And the last sword?”

Dagan blinked, looking confused. “What? Oh yes. The last sword was called Ossendar, which means 'Chosen', although it came to be known as Dragon's Bane.” Then seeing the quizzical look on Flare's face, he quickly added, “The first owner of Ossendar was the head of the Brotherhood of Virtue, an elf named Elmis. He performed an ancient rite called 'wetting'. The ancients believed that the blood of a sword's first kill infused the blade with power equal to the worthiness of the victim. What all that means, is that he picked a worthy opponent to be the sword's first battle. He chose a black dragon named Zalamorel, which was terrorizing inhabitants near the
White Mountains
. He fought and slew the mighty beast. Did you know that he is one of a handful of people to be a verified dragon slayer?” Flare shook his head, and Dagan continued, “Anyway, the sword's first kill was the dragon, and so that is how it got its common name of Dragon's Bane.”

Flare sat in silence for several moments, trying to absorb the massive amount of information that Dagan had relayed. Truly, the man was a great historian. After a moment he asked, “So, the sword of Osturlius is Darsus, the elvish sword?”

Dagan shook his head, “No. Sorry, I should have been clearer. Osturlius's sword is Ossendar, the blade given to Elmis of the brotherhood.”

“What?” Flare's forehead wrinkled in confusion. “Shouldn't the king of the elves have used Darsus?”

Dagan shrugged, “Perhaps, but I think that sword was lost long ago. Anyway, the brotherhood eventually disbanded and Ossendar drops out of recorded history. It's doesn't appear again until the Dragon Order was founded. Since then, it has always belonged to a member of the order.”

Flare was silent a moment, trying to understand everything that he had learned. “What stone was in Ossendar's hilt?”

Dagan smiled, “A beautiful diamond representing spirit.”

A silence descended between the two men. They both seemed lost in their own thoughts. The fire crackled as a log shifted, and the noise drew Flare's attention. He felt lost and weighted down with the burden of the trip. If he retrieved the sword, would he be allowed to return? What was the church up to, and did he want to restore the Dragon Order? He had already started down that path by studying sorcery and magic, but perhaps it wasn't too late to stop. But perhaps it was too late; he enjoyed both arts, and didn't want to stop either of them.

Dagan cleared his throat, loudly. Flare turned his attention to the old man and Dagan smiled at him, “I asked you, what your plans were.”

“Sorry. I didn't hear you.” He shrugged, “I don't know what to do. I feel like I am at a crossroads. I feel like once I leave here, then I can never come back.”

Dagan nodded. “This very well may be a turning point in your life, but if you are leaving, then I would recommend doing so soon. It's not cold yet, but winter is coming on.” Flare just looked back blankly. “Flare, have you given any thought to how you intend to do this?”

Flare continued to look lost, and shook his head. “No. I'm not even sure that I want to go for the sword. I mean, I couldn't come back here.”

Dagan was quiet for a moment. “Well, if the king has ordered you to go after the sword and you don't, then I'm not sure that you could stay here anyway.”

Flare blinked, “I hadn't thought about it like that.”

“But on the other hand, if it is a trap, then they will probably be looking for the eleven of you. I mean, after all, some of you are fairly easy to pick out in a crowd.”

Flare winced. 'Eleven. Once, there were thirteen of us.' He pushed the thought away. He sighed, “So what do you recommend?”

Dagan shrugged, “I'm not recommending anything. I'm just trying to point out the dangers of this trip. Whatever you decide to do, I suggest you be creative.”

Flare settled back down in his chair, fighting the despair that tried to settle in on him.

Chapter 9

Flare spent the next two days secluded in either his room or the library, trying hard to work out a plan. In the end, only one option occurred to him and it just became a matter of working out the details. By the morning of the third day, he had the basic plan in place and sent a page to find Atock and Philip and bring them to his room.

They arrived about a half an hour later, both looking somewhat tired, Philip's hair was still somewhat messed up. Atock flopped down in the lone padded chair and placed his leg over the chair arm. Philip shot a glare his way and remained standing.

Flare glanced over at Philip, “Oh come on, Philip. Have a seat. There's no need to be so formal.” Philip nodded and took the other chair, the one that didn't have any padding.

“Is everything okay?” Atock asked.

Flare didn't answer right away; instead he walked over and set down on the edge of his bed. Then sighing, he started telling the story. As expected, both of their mouths dropped open when he told them that they were being sent after Ossendar, but he was pleased that their reaction was limited to surprise. He had feared they might be suspicious of him.

When he finished the story, a silence settled in between them. It was Philip that finally spoke, “I just can't believe that both the king and high priest would agree to this. It seems dangerous.”

Flare took offense to Philip's words, “Why does it seem dangerous? Because I am the one going after the sword?”

Philip raised his hands, “Flare, I didn't mean it like that. I meant that it looks dangerous because of the Kelcer prophecy. I just meant that I was surprised that you are the one that's leading this, that's all.”

Flare was a quiet for a moment, and Atock spoke up quickly hoping to get the conversation back to where it belonged. “So when do we leave?”

Both Flare and Philip turned toward Atock. “Well,” Flare started, “I have been giving it a lot of thought and here is what I have decided. We're not going to journey together. We are going to split up and travel in three groups.”

“Why?” The question came from Philip.

Flare sighed, “I am afraid that someone might be setting a trap for us, and I think it best if we split up. They will be looking for the eleven of us, so maybe we have a better chance if we are in smaller groups.”

“Who is planning a trap for us?” Atock asked.

Flare wasn't sure how to answer this question. “There could be spies in the castle from those kingdoms to the south and east.”

“Is that all you suspect?” Philip asked.

“No.” Flare answered quietly. “There could be,” he paused, searching for the right word, “members of the court who would wish me to fail.” He left it at that, not wanting to add that his biggest fear was the church.

“I see.” Philip said. “So we are going in three groups.”

“Yes, and I want you two to be in charge of the other two groups.”

Philip and Atock looked at each other and then back to Flare. “I disagree.” Atock said, as he leaned forward. “Philip and I are the two best fighters in the group. We should be with you.”

Flare shook his head, “No. I trust you two more than anybody else. I need you to lead the other groups.”

Philip stood. “I agree with Atock. If there is a trap, then you will be the target. You'll need us to watch your back.”

Flare looked from one to the other, “Listen, I appreciate your concern, but I think that you are the best two to lead the other groups. You're both natural born leaders.”

Atock shook his head. “Flare, if you trust us, then you'll listen to our advice. You will need us, since we are the best fighters. There are others that can be the leaders.”

Flare sat quietly, considering. “Okay, let's say I agree with you, then who will lead the other groups?”

“Derek.” Atock said.

“Heather.” Philip added.

Flare was confused, “I can see Derek, but why Heather? I would have thought that Aaron was the second choice.”

Atock and Philip glanced at each other, “Aaron and Trestus are still working through some tough things.”

“Aaron is?” Flare asked. “What things is he dealing with?”

Once again they glanced at each other before answering. “Elona.” Philip finally added.

Flare shook his head, “Never mind. I don't think I want to know.” He motioned for the two other men to sit back down. “If you two travel with me, then what would be the makeup of the other two teams?”

Both men were quiet for a moment as they thought about the question. Finally, Philip said, “Heather, Aaron, Enton, and Mikela.” Atock nodded his agreement. That left the second group as Derek, Trestus, Kara, and Enstorion.

Flare considered for a moment, “All right. I'll have the rest of the squad assembled.”

Shortly after lunch, the squad assembled in a small room. The room was a rectangle not much bigger than the table that occupied the center of the room. Torches lined the walls, and provided the only light as the room was in the middle of the castle and didn't have window access.

Flare was the last of the guardians to arrive. The rest of the squad already occupied the chairs that surrounded the table. He walked in and closed the door behind him, and the quiet murmuring cut off.

Flare smiled, trying to put them at ease, some smiled back, but Enstorion ignored him. “The king has asked us to undertake a dangerous mission for the safety of Telur.” That got their attention. Their smiles were gone, and they waited anxiously for him to explain. He had a death grip on the back of the empty chair in front of him. “The king has asked us to journey south and return with the sword of Osturlius.” He spoke the words quietly, but they had a thunderous affect on the room. Kara looked horrified, as did Mikela, and Enstorion looked surprised.

“I know that this is a surprise, but let me assure you that the church has agreed to this. It seems that they think it's a good idea to keep the sword safe.” The guardian's faces still showed surprise, and no one said a word.