Into the Wastelands: Book Four of the Restoration Series (11 page)

Orban paused until the boy had disappeared out the door. “Terrell, I want you to keep your eye on that boy. He’s too damn young for this.”

Terrell nodded. “He’s young but this is why he joined the Order.”

Orban nodded and turned back to the window. There was no reason to hold the boy out of the fight. If they succeeded in their mission, they all knew the Church would require their deaths. Swordsmen who knew sorcery were an abomination. For the time, they were a necessary evil, but once Flaranthlas was dead, then they would have to die as well.

If they failed, then it wouldn’t matter. A shiver ran down Orban’s spine at the thought.
Slowly, hesitantly, he reached out with his spirit. He reached to the northwest, searching for whoever or whatever was out there.

It didn’t take long for Flare to locate Ossendar. Somehow, he knew it wouldn’t. The rockslide had made a mess of the mountain side and it did take a little while for Flare to skirt around the edge of the debris. Reaching the end of the rocks and snow, Flare located the remains of a battered and broken
Jordan
. The man was almost completely hidden by a large tree that the rocks had knocked over. Nevertheless, Flare stumbled right up to where the dead man lay underneath the tree limbs.

Almost too exhausted to notice or even care, Flare could just hear the barest sound. It was like a voice was singing quietly in the distance. It grew slightly louder as he drew near, but was still indistinct.

He pulled the tree limbs to the
side and looked in
to
Jordan
’s dead eyes. The guard was half buried in the rubble and lay on his back with his legs bent downward at an unusual angle.

He reached out and grabbed
Jordan
by the shoulder and pushed him over.
Jordan
’s body bent in a way that it wasn’t supposed to and he landed on his stomach. Strapped to the guard’s back was Ossendar.

With a warm feeling that reached all the way down to his stomach, Flare reached out and took the sword by the handle. The song that had been almost inaudible grew noticeably louder.

Vaguely, Flare remembered having heard once that the diving blades had been rumored to sing to their owners. He lifted the sword and stared at it. It was as if he had never laid eyes on the thing before.

Whether he stood there for just a moment or for hours, he didn’t know. He probably would have kept right on staring at the sword and listening to the song, but he felt someone’s spirit reaching for him.

The feel of the other person’s spirit snapped back to the here and now. A little dazedly, he looked to the southeast, the source of the other spirit was in that direction. Trees now blocked his view of Mul-Dune, but he had little doubt that was where the other sorcerer was located.

His heart was beating fast and he seemed to be having trouble catching his breath. He had just survived one sorcerer, he didn’t want to mess with another.

It was then that he felt another spirit joining in, so there was at least two sorcerers at Mul-Dune.

Almost without thinking, Flare used his spirit to create the very same ward that Thomas has used to try and hide
from him
earlier in the day. He swallowed hard, with any luck, the other sorcerers wouldn’
t know a way around the ward.

Chapter
10

Orban and Terrell were still looking out the window when the only living person near the rockslide disappeared.
One moment they could sense the man just fine. The next moment he winked out.

“Well. Well,” Terrell said thoughtfully. “I guess our friend out there isn’t Thomas or Graycen.”

Orban nodded. “No, but it doesn’t mean that it’s Flaranthlas either. It might just be some other sorcerer that we spooked.”

Terrell grunted, showing what he thought of that suggestion. “Either way, we have to go and see who it is.”

Nodding, Orban turned away from the window. He had been asleep when he had first felt the other sorcerer, and he needed to prepare.

Flare held his breath to see if his concealment ward would be broken. After several long moments, he breathed out. “Well, good for me,” he said to no one in particular.

Breathing slightly easier, but still nervous, he began searching for a way to hide. Since his concealment ward was in place, he didn’t have to worry about the sorcerers sensing him, but they could still track him.
Not wanting to have to constantly worry about the ward, he did another trick that Gregeggor had taught him and attached the completed ward to his person. Most sorcerers would keep their wards active, meaning they could alter them. The downside to this was that it was rather taxing and if something happened to the sorcerer, then the wards disappeared. By attaching the ward to his person, then it stayed with him until he consciously dismissed the ward. It also tended to take less energy to maintain than an active ward.

Biting his lip in frustration, he looked back in the general direction of Mul-Dune. He was half tempted to head straight for the fort. Any pursuers would not think him so bold, or stupid for that matter
, as to head straight at the fort
. He quickly dismissed the idea and that left him with only one option – run. His spirits sank at the thought. He had pushed himself to the brink of collapse and the whole time he had consoled himself with the thought that he could rest as soon as he had Ossendar back. Well, his plans were a changing.

Thinking back, he remembered the river off to the west. It was his best hope. If he could reach it, then perhaps he could lose any followers there. On the other hand, the river might act as a barrier that would keep him from escaping. He pushed that thought away and began stumbling to the west.

He tripped and fell before he even made it out of the rubble of the rockslide. Oh, how he wanted to just keep lying there, but he knew he couldn’t. Wearily he pushed himself back to his feet and began trudging to the west.

He wondered idly if he would make it. With the overwhelming exhaustion
that was weighing on him
, he almost didn’t care.

Flare soon moved past the rubble from the rockslide and entered the forest. The farther westward he went, the thicker the trees and shrubs grew. The foliage was soon much thicker than it had been when he had been chasing
Jordan
. It didn’t take long before his arms and face were soon covered in cuts and abrasions from where the tree limbs and shrubs slapped him. Vines and creepers seemed to try and grab on to him at every turn.

He gradually slowed his pace after he tripped twice. The first time was on an exposed tree root followed closely by the point of a half-buried rock.

Continuing in this way for nearly an hour, Flare forced himself on in a daze. His whole body hurt and it took everything he had to just put one foot in front of the other. His breath was coming in gasps now, and his heart felt like it was beating so hard that it might explode.

The only good point about going west, was that the ground sloped downhill from the mountains. That much was at least easier for him.

Gradually the ground began leveling out and for a wonder the shrubs began thinning. Thanking the Gods above, Flare pushed his way through several thick bushes and emerged into an opening.

He took two stumbling steps and just managed to keep from falling. He gaped at the massive river flowing in front of him. He had been so absorbed in putting one foot in front of the other that he had completely not heard the gurgling of the river.

“Thank the Gods that I didn’t
stumble onto
an enemy,” Flare said aloud. With as distracted as he was, he could have walked right into an enemies
’
camp and not realized it.

The river was broad and he knew instantly that he had zero chance of swimming across. He was simply too exhausted and his body wasn’t up to the challenge.

The waters rushed by from his right to his left, flowing north to south. A little farther south, the river began gradually turning a bit to the west and the forest blocked his view of the river from there on.

Flare sighed and glanced back the way he had come. He wondered if the other sorcerers were already tracking him. Undoubtedly they were, and he had the unshakeable suspicion that these men were working with Thomas.

He glanced back to the river and this time he studied the shore on this side of the river more closely. There had to be a way to hide. The shore was rather rocky and
appeared almost barren. The only vegetation were
trees
that hung way out over the water, some of their branches dipping into fast moving river.

It looked rather peaceful and probably would have relaxed him at some other time. Now, however, the only thing he could think of was another monk, or two, like Thomas. In his current physical and mental state, there was precious little he could do to fight them off.

Glancing upwards, Flare guessed he had maybe another hour or so of
daylight. He wondered if perhaps he could use the darkness to his advantage.

He tried to focus. There had to be a way out of this. Perhaps, he should follow the shore to the north? That thought had no sooner occurred to him, then a sound reached his ears. It was a sound that made his stomach turn over
and his spirits sink
. It was the sound of dogs barking way off in the distance.

Orban led his horse along the sides of the rockslide. He wasn’t about to risk riding the animal around this mess of rock and slush. The snow was mostly gone now, but the rocks and tore up vegetation still made it difficult to judge the footing.

He paused and glanced around at the others in his party. In addition to himself, he had the two other monks, Terrell and Argus. They had also brought along ten of their soldiers, just in case.

He wasn’t exactly sure what he expected to find out here, but the whole damn thing was peculiar. For some reason, a person used sorcery to cause a rock slide and then had hidden themselves when they felt the presence of the other sorcerers. Some of the men were hoping that they had stumbled across Flaranthlas, and in truth, that’s probably what Orban should have been hoping for. It was just so difficult to wish for such a thing. No one should wish to meet Kelcer’s Destroyer. In fact, Orban wished his life had been complete before the culmination of Kelcer’s prophecy.
Nevertheless he had a duty to perform and he would do it the best that he could.

A shout interrupted his mental wanderings and he looked to the west, near where the rubble ended. One of the soldiers was waving to get his attention. Terrell and Argus were already headed in the man’s direction. Resigned, Orban moved to join them.

It took him longer to wind his way to the soldier than the others and consequently they were waiting on him when he arrived. All three men stood staring down at a corpse.

Dropping the reigns of his horse, he moved around to get a better view. As he neared Terrell moved to the right and Orban finally saw the dead man’s face. His breath caught in his throat as he recognized him.
“That’s one of Thomas’ men!”

Terrell nodded. He too appeared to have recognized the dead soldier. “His name was Justin, or something like it.”

“
Jordan
,” the soldier said quietly.

Orban nodded. He hadn’t known the man’s name. Each of the monks were given a grouping of soldiers by the Church. Those soldiers tended to follow that one monk for the entirety of their service. It was perfectly understandable that he didn’t know
Jordan
’s name. It was also understandable that the
common
soldier did know
the
name. Monks tended to socialize with other monks and the soldiers tended to mingle amongst themselves.

“Does this mean that Thomas has Flaranthlas?” Argus asked.

Orban shook his head. “I don’t think so. Probably means that Thomas had him briefly and Flaranthlas has escaped.”

“Then that was him we felt?” Argus asked, his eyes wide.

“Yes,” Terrell answered, “and he’s running.”

Orban considered for a moment. “Spread the soldiers out to the north and south. Argus, I want you to go to the northern most point of the line. Terrell, you go to the southern most part, and I’ll take the middle.”

Terrell raised his eyes in an unspoken question.

“We’re following his trail, wherever it leads us.”

Standing on the riverbank, Flare found himself once again looking around for inspiration. He doubted he could either outrun his pursuers or evade them long enough to escape.

If it came to a fight, he would do his best, but his body had been pushed beyond its limits.
There was also the fact that there appeared to be at least two sorcerers and they probably had soldiers with them, just like Thomas had.

He looked around again and his eyes came to rest on a tree that hung way out over the water. At some time in the past, the tree had been blown over. Most of its roots had pulled up out of the ground, with only a very small percentage still in contact with the ground. The tree looked to have fared very poorly since being blown over. Most of the leaves were long gone and even the tree bark was cracking and peeling away.

In a way Flare felt rather like the tree. His body was exhausted, both physically and mentally and he felt like part of him was cracking and peeling away. He grinned, thinking that at least he wouldn’t fall into the water like that tree was about to.

His grin slipped as he continued to study the old tree. The more he studied the tree, the more the thought repeated itself. Perhaps it wouldn’t take too much to get the tree to fall into the water.

Dogs barking interrupted his contemplation of the tree. The hounds had been quiet for a while. Their renewed barking probably signaled that their masters were on the move.

Taking a deep breath, Flare stumbled over to the tree. Reaching out, he grabbed hold of a branch, that now reached out vertically into the air and pulled himself up and onto the tree trunk.
It barely moved and Flare sighed. It was still in the ground rather firmly.

There was some good news. Most of the branches were fairly small. There were five thick branches, however, and all five of those were pointing straight at the ground. If he could get the tree loose, then hopefully the weight of those branches would keep it from rolling in the water.

He jumped back down from the tree. Taking a deep breath and resigning himself to what he had to do, Flare took control of his spirit and directed it at the mess of roots. Several roots snapped loose and the tree dipped a little closer to the water.

Doubling his efforts, Flare ignored a pain that seemed to blossom in the back of his head and spread forward all the way to his forehead.

More roots broke and the tree trunk touched the water.

It felt like his head was on fire, but Flar
e forced his spirit to continue
breaking the roots.

The pain seemed to double and Flare fell to his knees. The tree was still attached, but just barely. Flare barely even noticed. His head rested
in
his hands for several moments and his vision went all blurry. It felt like his head was being pried away from his neck.

After several moments, his vision cleared and he looked up at the tree. Another wave of nausea swept over him, but he forced himself to ignore the pain. One large bundle of roots kept the tree from being swept away by the current. In fact, he was probably lucky that the force of the water hadn’t already broken the tree loose.

Taking a deep breath, Flare stood to his feet. Immediately he had to resist the urge to be sick.
He felt hot and he was covered in sweat, but at the same time, he was shivering.

Flare stumbled forward and reached the tree. It was actually much easier to climb up on the trunk this time, as the tree was much lower than before.

The tree was bobbing in the water and the motion didn’t help his nausea. He slid along the tree trunk until he came to a spot where several branches formed a little nook. He said a silent prayer that the tree wouldn’t roll in the water.

Taking another deep breath, Flare directed his spirit to sever the last bunch of roots. With a sudden rush, the tree rushed out into the current.

Flare smiled for one moment at his success and then he blacked out from the pain that was
surging through
his head.