Into the Wastelands: Book Four of the Restoration Series (17 page)

Mortimer did indeed stare into the fire for several moments, but Flare was at a complete loss as to what he was doing.

The wizard was silent for several moments. He just sat there staring into the fire.
Then something happened. Flare felt something like a booming vibration run through his body. He glanced up at Mortimer but the wizard was still staring at the fire.
Finally,
Mortimer spoke again and now
his voice was detached and distant. “
Ziteul! Come forth!”

Flare’s first thought was what in the name of the gods was a Ziteul, but that thought was driven from his mind as a small grayish head emerged from the fire.
A little figure pulled itself up, holding on to flaming logs as it did so
. It was small, probably not reaching a man’s knee, and it was horribly ugly. The small creature had gray skin that covered its body and looked incredibly thick. Two small horns protruded from the top of the being’s head and a two-foot tail whipped back and forth like a cat
’
s.

Cursing, Flare fell back from the fire in surprise. He landed on his back and began scooting backwards away from the fire. He didn’t stop until his back hit the wall of the tower. The five feet from him to the monster hardly seemed enough.

The small gray being turned its attention to Flare. It grinned wickedly, showing a large number of small sharp teeth. It leaned forward as if to pounce.

“Ziteul, restrain yourself.”

The creature froze perched on its toes, like it wanted to jump at Flare but something held it back.

“By all that’s holy,” Flare exclaimed, his eyes wide. “What is that thing?”

Mortimer stood and walked around the fire. “This is Ziteul. He’s a small imp that I summoned many times when I lived.”

Ziteul watched Mortimer’s slow circle of the fire and there was a definite anger in his eyes. He gave off the appearance of wanting to rip the wizard open with his teeth.

“An imp?” Flare repeated dully. His eyes were still wide and his head seemed full of wool.

“Yes,” Mortimer answered, his eyes still on the imp. “Imps are lesser demons and they will be the only thing you summon for quite some time.”
Mortimer’s eyes flicked to where Flare sat in the dirt. “Are you all right?”

Nodding, Flare pushed himself to his feet and stared down at the
imp
. He swallowed hard. It hardly seemed possible that he was standing in the presence of a demon, much less a wizard.

“I am controlling it through the projection of my will,” Mortimer said quietly. “That is the nature of wizardry.”

Flare nodded and then cast around for something to say. He wanted to appear intelligent in front of his new master. “Is this the same process for all demons?”

“Hardly. Only lesser demons can be controlled solely by the will of the wizard. More powerful demons require other means.”

Flare slowly turned his head to look at Mortimer, “What other means?”

The wi
zard smiled, “All in good time.” He moved closer and began wiping dirt from Flare’s clothes. “Did you feel
a silent pounding?”

“I felt, something,” Flare said after a moment. He wasn’t sure what to call it though. “It caused my whole body to vibrate.”

Mortimer nodded, “That was my will b
eing
directed into the portal that the fire created. Between the fire and my will, I was able to force little Ziteul here to come to me.”

Flare glanced back at the little monster and shivered.

Grinning, the wizard returned to his seat on the stone. He motioned for Flare to do so as well.

Swallowing hard, Flare did as instructed. He would have preferred to remain standing against the wall. At least over there he had a good five feet between himself and Ziteul. He slowly slid back onto the small stone, all the while, Ziteul continued to watch him. The little beast seemed to take great delight in leering, most likely so that he could show his wicked little teeth.
He was still grinning when Mortimer called his name. The grin slipped and was replaced by a child-like stubbornness.

“Why do you summon me?” Ziteul asked.
Its voice was low and raspy, sounding like something out of a person’s worst nightmare.

“It can talk!” Flare blurted out in surprise.

Ziteul clinched its little fists, the anger unmistakable in his expression.

“Ziteul,” Mortimer repeated, this time he put more emphasis on the name.

The imp took a deep breath and then let it out slowly. Then, to Flare’s complete astonishment, he bowed. “I have come as summoned and I acknowledge that yours is the greater will. I will do as you bid.”

Chapter
15

They reached the
Silver
River
early in the afternoon. The river was broad but was slow moving at this point. Heather called a halt and stared out over the peaceful waters.

The trip had gone smoothly. They left Emtown around noon on their second day in the small town. It had been the first day that Kappie had traded with the townspeople and the locals had been rather absorbed in trying to get a good deal. It had been rather easy for the Guardians to buy provisions from the townspeople,
and
Kappie had provided them with several changes of clothes and new boots.

They had left Emtown while the people were still in a furor over the trading. They hadn’t escaped completely unnoticed. Several of the local vagabonds, undoubtedly excited by the exuberance of their compatriots, tried to follow them. Heather sent Atock and Enton to dissuade them. One look at the massive warriors caused any and all followers to disappear.

They made good time in their trip north. The local constable had told Aaron correctly and they encountered no serious obstacles until they reached the
Silver
River
. The travelling had been easy, if not pleasant. The rolling hills and dispersed copses of trees had provided plenty of shelter, game, and firewood.

Standing there, looking out over the river, Heather couldn’t help but wonder if the lands they were about to enter were cursed.
Was it simple superstition? Or was it something more tangible?

As they stood there on the shore looking over the water, they each turned to look at her. Even Atock, who wasn’t technically under her command looked to her for guidance. The two sorcerers didn’t bother looking at her or even offering advice, both of them had been withdrawn
and quiet
for a while now.

“What do you think?” Atock asked, moving closer so that he wouldn’t have to shout.

Heather considered for a moment. It wouldn’t do to cross this late in the day. They would only have to make camp on the far bank and they weren’t even sure it was safe. Besides, how would they cross? “I think we make camp here for tonight,” she said after a moment. “We’ll make floats and rafts tonight and cross the river in the morning.” She lowered her voice, “We’ll have to make sure the sorcerers make it across.”

Atock nodded silently. His gaze turned towards where the two sorcerers stood talking. Agminion shouldn’t be a problem. He was still young and his family owned a shipping business. Undoubtedly, he would be able to make it across the river.

It was Dagan that he worried about. Dagan might be a powerful sorcerer, but this trip was taking a toll on the old man. Several times, already, Heather had been forced to call a halt to let him
rest
. He seemed constantly short of breath and grumpy. Well, truth be told, he always seemed a bit ornery, but he hadn’t always seemed this tired.

As if reading his thoughts, Heather said, “We’ll make a raft for him to hold onto and we’ll have to make sure that raft reaches the other side.”

Silently, Atock nodded.

Later, with the men out gathering wood for a fire and for the rafts, Heather stood looking out to the north. The constable in Emtown had warned Aaron not to cross the river and once again she worried about what they might find there. Once, these lands had belonged to the Faerum, but that had been long ago. The Faerum had been completely wiped out in the Third War of the Races and these lands had been a wasteland ever since. Like Aaron, she had wondered why no humans ever came here. It would seem a great place to make a home. The land was fertile and there was plenty of game in the mountains. Regardless, the wastelands had remained empty. And now here they were.

Hearing a sound behind her, Heather turned to see Dagan approaching.
He looked tired, but this had been a rather exhausting trip for such an old man. He waved his hand across the water. “What do you think we’ll find over there?”

She smiled, unsure of how to answer. “I thought you were the historian. What do you expect us to find?”

The old sorcerer didn’t answer right away. “Honestly, I’m not sure, but I did want to warn you.”

Heather exhaled
deeply. “Warn me about what?” s
he asked in a flat, tired voice.

Dagan smiled. “If we know where the armor was last seen, then you can believe that the Church also knows, as does Zalustus.”

That was an unpleasant thought. Scratching her cheek, Heather regarded the old man. “You thi
nk there will be agents of the C
hurch there?”

Dagan shrugged. “It’s just a guess, but it would make sense. They have to sense the times we’re living in. I would also guess that either Zalustus will be there, or perhaps one of his lieutenants.”

Great!
Heather thought. “What can you tell me
about the destruction of the Faerum?”

“Not much,” Dagan answered after a brief moment. “It is believed to have been a surprise attack, although I have never heard of the like before. Each of the Faerum cities was attacked at the same time, and before they could get off a warning.” He shrugged, “The Faerum were always more friendly with the dwarves than with humans. It’s a pity that we don’t have a dwarf to ask.”

“I thought they were attacked by goblins,” Heather said.

“Yes, that’s correct.” Dagan replied.

“All the Faerum cities were attacked by goblins? At the same time?” Heather said, a look of disbelief appearing on her face. “Surely goblins wouldn’t be able to do such a thing.”

Dagan shrugged. “You forget that goblins attacked Fort Mul-Dune and it was believed that they would never be able to mount such an attack.”

Heather had to concede the point. There had been more to the attack on Mul-Dune, and she could only assume there was more to the attack on the Faerum cities.
She was
saved from having to answer, by
the sudden reappearance of the other Guardians, each weighed down under armloads of tree limbs.

They spent the rest of the day making small rafts. The rafts weren’t big enough for a person to ride across. In reality, the rafts were a collection of tree limbs tied together. The purpose of the rafts wasn’t to enable each person to
ride
across the river, instead, the point was that a person could hold onto the raft and then work their way through the distant waters.

The next day dawned cool but clear. Heather was relieved to get started. She had spent a sleepless night imagining all the possible things that could go wrong. It was relief when they each grabbed a small raft and waded out into the waters. The plan called for her and Atock to stay near Dagan, to make sure the old man made it across safely. The old sorcerer showed them that he was once again full of surprises. Immediately upon entering the water, his small raft of limbs took off and almost flew across the river. Heather and Atock, despite their frantic attempts, could not keep up.

The cold water fought them, trying to carry them to the west. Despite their best efforts, they were soon spread across a wide swath of the river. Heather and Atock, perhaps because they had tried to remain close to Dagan, wound up coming out of the water within half a mile of each other. None of the others were in sight. It wasn’t surprising and they had planned on this very possibility.
It made sense that the river would push them to the west, so they had picked a spot on the far shore and all they had to do was travel east along the shore until they reached that point. The point they had chosen was a small cove with three large trees having fallen out into the rive
r
.

Heather and Atock emerged from the water, leaving their rafts to float away, and began walking east. As a precaution, Heather had told Aaron to watch Mikela and Enton to wat
ch Agminion. She had seen Aaron,
Mikela
, and Cassandra
float farther to the west, but she had lost track of Enton and Agminion.

Luckily, they hadn’t travelled too far to the west and
they reached
the
small cove in less than a quarter of an hour.

Dagan, Agminion, and Enton were already there. The three men were gathered around a small fire. Enton looked less than pleased to have been stuck with the two sorcerers.

Heather stopped just short of the group, the glare she gave Dagan was the first sign of her displeasure. “What did you
do?” s
he asked in a calm cool voice.

Dagan leaned back against a bush, he was looking rather pleased with himself. “Whatever do you mean?”

Fighting the anger that threatened to rise up within her, Heather tried rephrasing the question. “How is it that you managed to beat us here?”

Dagan actually had the audaci
ty to smile. “I used my ability,” h
e answered calmly. “I know that you think I’m little more than an old man to be coddled, but there is more to me than you might imagine.”

“And why didn’t you tell me of this?” Heather demanded. “Could you have helped others across the river?”

“Perhaps,” Dagan answered, “but to be honest the thought never occurred to me.”

Taking a deep breath, Heather fought to keep her anger unde
r control. “You ignorant ass!” s
he shouted finally. “You might have helped others, but instead you were too worried about yourself.”

Dagan tensed. “How dare
you?” h
e began, anger twisting his face to where it was almost unrecognizable.

Heather didn’t allow him to continue. “Either you become a part of this group or you can stay behind.” She talked over him, but it was in a very calm voice.

“Really?” Dagan asked, looking surprised. “And what would you do without me?”
he
asked.

“Travel a lot farther and faster.” Heather thundered back, her calmness all gone. Out of the c
orner of her eye, she saw Aaron,
Mikela
, and Cassa
n
dra approach. They
hung back, sensing this wasn’t a good time to interrupt.

Dagan’s lips curled into a sneer. “And what about the first time you needed my abilities?”

Heather pointed at Agminion without pulling her gaze from Dagan. “I have a spare sorcerer,” she shouted, “I’m sure he can more than do what needs to be done.”

Dagan did not answer, but instead he sat there staring daggers at Heather.

“Atock,” Heather said after a moment, “get us ready to move out.” She paused just a moment, “
N
o breaks until we make camp,” she added with an angry glance towards Dagan. If the old man thought he was so important, then she would just have to run him into the ground.

They travelled north at a furious pace. The terrain on this side of the river was similar to the south bank; rolling hills with a smattering of trees.
The trees were slowly getting thicker than
they had been
on the south bank.

They pushed hard into the afternoon. The pace put an immense strain on Dagan and he soon began to fall behind. The other Guardians noticed it and gradually slowed their paces. Heather was forced to slow hers too. As the day wore on, Agminion and Mikela also began to lag behind.
Despite her anger
, Heather couldn’t help but notice what the pace she set was doing to the others. Finally, in spite of what she had said earlier, she called a halt. The sorcerers and the magician threw themselves down onto the ground, sweating and panting. This only increased Heather’s feelings of guilt and she turned and caught Atock’s eye. He moved over and spoke quietly.

“They can’t keep up this pace for long. I’m surprised Dagan’s still with us.”

“I know,” Heather answered, “but I just couldn’t let him get away with what he did.”

Atock shrugged and looked over to where the old man lay wheezing on the ground. “I don’t think he’ll be a problem any time soon.”

Heather followed his gaze. The guilt she felt intensified at the sight of Dagan. He might be an ornery old bastard but that wouldn’t excuse her marching him to death.

“We need to slow down
for another reason,” Atock said slowly. He leaned in closer to make sure that no one else heard. “We’re in the Faerum wastelands. No one has been here in a very long time. We need to go slow and be careful about what we’re walking into.”

Heather nodded. “You’re right, of course.” She glanced to the west. At most they might have another two hours of light. She hated to waste time, but it was better to be safe. Turning from Atock, she raised her voice. “We’re going to make camp. Aaron, I want you to find us a safe place.” She waited for Aaron’s nod of acknowledgment and then turned away, pretending not to notice the looks of absolute relief that flooded over the two sorcerers and
Cassandra
.

They made camp that night in the depression formed by two small ridges. Trees grew thick in this area and they provided shelter from the elements. Watch was actually kept from the branches of the tallest tree on the ridge. From their perch, the guard was able to see beyond the ridges in all directions.