Valley of the Ancients: Book Three of the Restoration Series (34 page)

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.