Into the Wastelands: Book Four of the Restoration Series (6 page)

“Why are we stopping so far away?” Mikela asked. “If they don’t actually land, will we see them?”

Kappie didn’t answer immediately, ins
tead he stood staring out to sea
for several moments. Finally, he turned and looked back at the Guardians.
He motioned for them to sit or kneel, so that the bushes would help hide them.
“First, they will land. Secondly, the government of Aramonia very much likes to tax arriving goods and they frown upon anyone who avoids those taxes.”

“Customs officials,” Agminion added helpfully. “They cover the lakeshore. If they spotted us out here, they would at the very least want to question us, and I doubt they could fail to recognize us.”

Kappie glanced up at the night sky. “We don’t have long, within the hour.”

With a
movement
of her head, she motioned for Atock and Aaron to keep an eye out the way they had come.
Damn Enton!
s
he thought furiously,
he’s got me paranoid about this trap idea of his.

Just as Kappie had said, the longboat hit the shore just over half an hour later.
It was a rather smooth landing
, as the waves were virtually nonexistent.
Two men jumped
into the shallow water
from the bow of the boat and pulled it up higher on the beach by two ropes. Two more men remained in the boat.

Heather rather expected for Kappie to jump from his place of concealment and march straight for the boat, but he didn’t. Instead, once the boat was secured, he stood up and stared. The funny thing was that he stared not at the ocean or the spot where the boat had landed, but north and south along the shore line, and westward away from the lake. “What are you looking for?” Heather asked, trying hard not to tense up.

“Customs officials are crafty,” he answered. “Some times they will wait in the shadows until the smugglers have their cargo unloaded and then they will sprin
g their trap. At the very least
the smugglers are guaranteed to lose their cargo.” His eyes still scanned the shoreline.

“I don’t understand,” Heather admitted, “there isn’t any cargo. All we have to do is make
t
he boat and then get it back into the water.”

“Yes, I know,” Kappie said, giving Heather a patient smile. “I’m trying to be careful though. My mother might not mind if something happened to me, but she would not like to lose her favorite grandson.” His eyes twinkled as he spoke, and Agminion scowled at him. “But I see no signs of anyone following us, or any sign of trouble.” He nodded to the boat, “
L
et’s go.”

The didn’t need to be told twice. With Atock and Aaron as the rearguard, they quickly covered the distance to the boat. As they neared, Kappie gave a most unusual whistle. It was a long whistle followed by two
more
short whistles and Heather guessed it was a message. Hopefully, it was the all clear signal.

The two men on shore greeted Kapernum and he responded gruffly.

“Hurry,” Kappernum said to the Guardians. “In the boat.”

Cassandra and Mikela were the first two to climb aboard but the others followed right on their heels. Atock and Aaron were the last and they kept their eyes on the two sailors on shore.

As soon as they were all aboard, the two sailors pushed the front of the boat hard, but for a moment it wouldn’t budge. They continued to strain and slowly the boat pushed away from the sandy shore. They continued to push until the water was above their belts and then they grabbed a hold of the side and pulled themselves in.

The four sailors put out oars and begin to pull quickly, but it seemed that the boat
moved
painfully slowly.

It was slow going and the Guardians watched warily as the boat cut through the water. It was dark and a fog rose over the water making it hard to see more than twenty yards from the water.

After just a few minutes, Heather was totally lost. She was
n’t
much of a sailor as she so preferred the woods. It was impossible for her to tell if they had travelled one half of a mile or ten miles, but it didn’t much matter.

After about twenty minutes, all four of the rowers froze with their oars still in the water. Kapernum’s head whipped around and he looked to the north.

They all followed Kappie’s gaze
northward
. The only thing they saw was more fog and dark water. Even though they couldn’t see anything, after a moment they all heard it. There was a grinding noise that was followed by a
low
slapping of the water, and it was repeated over and over again in a rough pattern.

It took Heather a moment to realize what it was.
Oars,
she thought furiously.
There’s another boat out here with us!
She looked to Kappie, and he held a finger to his lips and then motioned them all to get low in the boat.
They obeyed as quietly as possible.

The first thought that went through Heather’s head was that Enton had been right and this was a trap. But that didn’t make any sense. Kappie looked as surprised by the developments as any of them and she seriously doubted that the man was that good an actor. Still, she tightened her grip on her knife handle and waited. After a moment it occurred to her that this might be the customs’ officials
that
Kappie had mentioned. She breathed easier that they might not have to fight Kappie and his sailors in this little toy of a boat, but there was still the issue of the other boat.

Cautiously, Heather raised her head over the edge of the longboat and looked to the north. The fog was as thick as ever and she still couldn’t see much. But she still could hear the oars as they struck the water, but they seemed to be moving away.

Something poked Heather in the shoulder and she nearly screamed, but just managed to hold it in. She turned angrily and saw that it had been Dagan. Her anger melted away, being replaced with curiosity.
He looked worried.
He didn’t say anything but he pointed.

Heather looked the way Dagan had pointed. His finger pointed to the back of the boat where Atock, Aaron, and Agminion were seated. Atock and Aaron were doing like the rest of them and had their heads down. Agminion was sitting up higher in the boat and he had his eyes closed.

Suspicious now, Heather continued to watch the sorcerer for a moment. She was still trying to decide what to do when the boat gave a silent lurch and began moving through the water again.
It moved silently and quickly in the original direction they had been rowing, but it was cutting through the water much faster than before and virtually without a sound.

Heather looked back at Dagan. The old man hadn’t moved, but something in his posture told her that he had relaxed a bit.

Not a word was said for nearly a quarter of an hour and then Kappie spoke up. “Whoever is doing that, turn us a bit to the south or we’ll miss the ship.”

Agminion’s eyes popped open and he sagged in his seat. He was covered in sweat and looked like he had just ran ten miles.
He opened his mouth, not to speak, but to suck in huge amounts of air.

The boat, which had been cutting a quick path through the water, suddenly went limp and just floated on the water.

“What in the name of the abyss was that?” Enton demanded. He was still tense and looked ready to spring in any direction.

“That was sorcery,” Dagan answered. He motioned at Agminion, “
A
nd quite an impressive performance, I might add.”

No one replied, but Kappie regarded his nephew with an appreciative glance. “Not bad,” he said finally.

It took another quarter of an hour to reach the ship. It was a small ship with a shallow draft, which would be necessary to travel in the rivers going north. The deck seemed wide and there were holes which allowed the sailors to use oars. There was one mast directly in the middle of the ship but the sails were currently down. There was a raised deck at the stern of the ship. All in all, it wasn’t all that impressive.

It took a while for everyone to climb the rope ladder from the longboat to the deck of the ship. Agminion was so bad off that he had to be helped.

Heather was pleased that there were only about ten or so sailors on the ship. If there ever was a need for a fight, she liked her group’s chances against the crew.

They were left o
n their own for a short while as Kapernum saw to his ship. Heather and her group leaned against the railings and watched, all except Agminion, who sat down on the deck and rested his head against a crate. The ship seemed to be organized chaos, but it wasn’t long before the sails were raised and the ship was moving. Kappie returned soon enough.

He smiled as he approached. “Forgive me for abandoning you, but there were matters that I had to see to immediately.”

“We understand,” Heather answered politely.

“Normally I sleep in the cabin there,” he pointed to a small cabin just under the raised portion of the deck, “and my men sleep in the hold.” He pointed again, but this time downwards.

“Do you have a cargo?” Dagan asked. He sounded surprised.

Kappie grunted, “Y
es, though it isn’t much of one. Mainly spices and dried foods that do not grow up north. It’s not much, but it will help offset the cost of the voyage.”

“And we appreciate it immensely,” Heather said. She was feeling the first pangs of guilt at having so disrupted these men’s lives.

“Little lady, I’m not doing it for you. My mother is in charge of the family business and she told me to undertake this mission.”

Someday,
Heather thought,
I want to meet this woman.

Kappie looked at the men, “
Y
ou’ll have to join me in the hold with the other men.” He turned his gaze to Heather, “Miss Heather and these other beautiful ladies can have my cabin.”
He nodded to where Agminion had fallen a
sleep leaning against the crate,
“Is he all right?”

“He will be,” Dagan answered. “He pushed himself a little too far. I think we’re lucky he didn’t vomit all over the deck, actually.”

Kappie snorted. “He knows better than to sick up on my deck. He knows I’d have made him clean it up himself.”

Chapter
7

Flare wok
e with his whole body hurting.
Yesterday, early in the afternoon
, he had tried to use sorcery for the
sixth
time since he
had been
captured.
The medallion around his neck still prevented him from using sorcery and the punishments were getting worse.

The first time he had tried,
there had been an excruciating pain that ran through his body for nearly an hour. He had been unable to walk for a while and he had been sore for several days. Each time he tried to use sorcery, the pain increased.

After his aborted attempt yesterday, he had endured a quarter of an hour of the most intense pain he had ever felt in his life. At that point, he, mercifully, had blacked out. When he awoke, he felt like someone had taken a club and beaten every square inch of his body.

He had been awake for nearly half an hour now, and the soreness of his muscles was growing. Laying there on his side, he watched the sun climb over the mountains to the east and his thoughts ran furiously over his predicament.

He had been captured by agents of the
Church
of
Adel
. They viewed
all warriors who used magic or sorcery as abominations and they had a deep desire to execute him publicly. In all honesty it was strange. They hated magic-using warriors but had created their own such
secret
order. An order that used magic and sorcery while they carried swords. By their own definition, these men were abominations, but they viewed it as a necessary evil. The leader of those who had captured him was such a man. Thomas seemed like a genuinely likeable person, albeit a zealot. Flare had no doubt that Thomas would cheer Flare’s death and then willingly allow himself to die.

There had been a time when Flare had feared that he was a bit of an abomination and that perhaps he was the
D
estroyer that Kelcer had foretold. The problem was that he no longer believed that. It had been explained to
him
that the Kelcer prophecy was miss-understood. He now believe
d
that Zalustus was the D
estroyer and it was Flare’s responsibility to restore the Dragon Order before Zalustus could.
The problem was that the medallion was a bit of a hindrance.

Shuffling noises came from behind him and Flare rolled over to see
who was approaching
.
They had made camp in a small clearing that was surrounded by towering trees. The undergrowth was quite thick here and it was causing some problems for them as they worked their way south. However, it terms of the camp, the bushes and shrubs helped by shielding their camp from view. Flare lay off to one side. He was close enough to be seen by his captors, but not close enough to be warmed by their fire. The tops of the mountains rose above the trees to the east.

One of the two soldiers approached him warily. Flare didn’t know either
guard’s
name and he really didn’t care. The strange monk, Thomas, was civil and he treated Flare with all the respect due a prisoner, but his two soldiers were neither civil nor respectful. When Thomas was in sight, the men ignored Flare. When Thomas was not to be seen, well, Flare’s body was covered with bruises and scrapes. A good number of the bruises had been caused by the soldier’s boots.
Their anger towards him was understandable. After all, he had killed five of their comrades. If he had lost five of h
is friends, then he would be – angry – as
well.

Thinking of his friends hurt, as it always did. He didn’t even know how many of them were still alive. And of those alive, he could only hope
that none of them
were rotting in a dungeon somewhere. How had things got so messed up? Despair threatened to crash down on him and he fought hard to remain hopeful. It wasn’t so easy anymore.

His thoughts were interrupted by a hard kick to his right side. Flare grunted hard and looked up at the soldier who glared down at him. The sol
dier was near thirty years old and
that marked him as experienced. Fools died quickly in the army. Those that lasted long tended to
be
good at what they did. He had short brown hair and a week’s growth of beard. His clothes had seen better days and he even had some food stains down the front. The worst thing about him was his eyes. They looked black and dead.

“Now listen up,” the soldier said. He kicked Flare again. “You cost us nearly four hours of daylight yesterday. Don’t try that sorcery bit again. Understand?” He paused but Flare didn’t reply. He kicked Flare hard again and said, “I asked you a question? Do you understand?”

“
Jordan
!” a voice called out sharply. Thomas strode into view. His eyes were hard and his hand rested on his sword hilt. The soldier, whose name was apparently
Jordan
, backed quickly away from Flare. Thomas stepped in between Flare and the soldier and he glared towards Flare’s tormentor. “I have told you not to torture the prisoner,” Thomas said slowly and quietly. There was an unmistakable deadliness in his tone. “Explain yourself.”

Jordan
dropped his eyes to the ground. “My lord. I was just trying to make sure he wouldn’t
try to use
any more sorcery. The delays are getting longer.” He kept his eyes on the ground while he spoke but there was a definite anger in his tone.

“So,” Thomas said after a moment’s pause, “you are worried about the time it takes
to get Kelcer’s D
estroyer back to Telur?
Tell me, would you like to explain to Dalin Olliston how you managed to kill the prisoner by kicking him to death?” Thomas paused again, but the soldier had gone pale at the words. “Dalin himself told me to bring him back alive, at all costs. Would you like to tell the High Priest that you disobeyed his direct orders to save some time?” His voice rose and he was practically shouting by the end.

“No,”
Jordan
said and he looked like he meant it. He was even more flushed now and despite the nice cool morning, he was covered in sweat.

“No, I don’t think you want to either,” Thomas said after a moment. He turned his back on the soldier, “
L
eave us.”

Flare watched Thomas as
Jordan
hurried to make his escape. It was true that the medallion’s punishments were slowing them down. They had no horses so Flare was being compelled to walk to his death. When he was incapacitated, they were unable to continue their journey. They needed him able to walk.

He had fled Telur and traveled northwest to the Az’ha’
rill
Mountains
. In the far north, this mountain chain formed an enormous V
, with the mountains running both to the northeast and northwest
. With great difficulty he had climbed the eastern part of the mountain chain. He had been pursued and captured while still inside the V of the mountains. The quickest path back to Telur was to retrace Flare’s steps back over the
peaks
. It was an extremely difficult climb and not a climb that
he
could have done with his hands bound. Refusing to untie his prisoner, Thomas had decided to take them west through the easier part of the mountain chain and then turn south to Mul-Dune. From there,
his plan was to
travel east to Telur.

That had been nearly two weeks ago. At first they had made good time.
The going was easy and the weather favorable. Flare had first tried to use sorcery the night after their first day of traveling. The pain had been unbelievable and it felt like every nerve ending in his body was on fire. The next day, although sore, Flare had been able to walk and they had continued westward. It was
n’t
until his third attempt to use sorcery that the pain made him unable to travel and cost them several hours. The punishments were weighing on him to the point that the medallion was slowing them down even on days that he didn’t attempt to use sorcery.

Several days back, they crossed the western part of the V and entered the wilds of Cail dar’mack. This heavily forested and largely unexplored territory ran from the Az’ha’
rill
Mountains
to the ocean in the west. It was a dangerous forest, full of wild animals and beasts. Fort Mul-Dune had been built
in
the only gap of the mountains that was large enough, and safe enough, for a group to travel through. The primary purpose of the fort was to protect the western side of Telur from attack. In addition to animals and beasts, the forests were known to be the home of goblins, trolls, and the like.

“That medallion will kill you,” Thomas said.

Flare had been adrift in his thoughts and had forgotten that the man was still watching him.
“Ole Dalin wouldn’t like that very much.”

Thomas clinched his teeth and Flare could see the man’s jaws moving. “You should show some respect to the High Priest of Adel.”

“Even when he’s wrong and refuses to see it?” Flare asked.

Thomas took a deep breath and ignored the question. “That medallion will kill you. Each time you try to use sorcery, it’s getting worse. How much more do you think you can take?”

Flare pushed himself up onto an elbow, it was rather difficult when his hands were tied together. “So?” he asked. “If I die here or in the middle of a square in Telur, what does it matter to me?”

“Well, there’s the lives of my men. If, like you say, you’re so noble, then that should matter to you.”

Flare laughed out loud. “So I should go willingly so that you and these bastards can keep o
n living?” He shook his head, “N
o, I don’t think so.”

The monk stared at Flare in silence for several moments and then asked, “Surely you know that the Church would never have allowed you to restore the Order. They would never have allowed it.”

“It’s up to the Gods and not the Church,” Flare said with a shrug.

Thomas snorted, “And you think Adel would want that Order restored?”

Once again Flare shrugged, “Perhaps. We’ll see.”

Thomas kneeled down next to Flare. “That sword isn’t the only weapon mentioned in the prophecy.”

Confused, Flare didn’t respond. He just watched Thomas.

“Kelcer also mentioned three other items that would mark the one who would restore the Order.” He poked Flare in the shoulder
with a finger, “
B
et you didn’t know that.”

Flare shook his head, not sure if he even believed the monk, but thinking it best to play along. “What items?”

Smirking now, Thomas leaned in even closer. “The helmet of Ashteroth is the first item, and it’s supposed to be a golden helmet.”

Flare’s breath caught at that. Golden helmets were considered an abomination and no one would wear such a thing.

“There’s also armor made from the skin of a black dragon. It’s called Nerandall, and it was lost millennia ago in the Faerum city of
Saprasia
, during the Third war of the Races. The last item is a dwarven shield called Ocklamoor and you never would have found it.” He poked Flare in the shoulder again, “So you see, the Church has had this planned out for quite some time. You were doomed to failure.”

“Like I was when the Church agreed to send me after Ossendar?”

The smirk disappeared from Thomas’ face. “Accidents happen,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Well, maybe more accidents will happen,” Flare said. “It’s still a long way from here to Telur.”

Thomas, still gritting his teeth,
started to stand up
. At that point, a rather interesting idea occurred to Flare and he acted without thinking of the consequences. He reached out to take control of his spirit, and thereby use sorcery. The pain set in immediately. There was a humorous moment where Thomas jumped forward, although Flare had no idea what the man meant to do, and then the blackness took him.

When Flare awoke next, it felt like his whole body was resting in a furnace. Every square inch of his skin burned and he was afraid that he might be sick at any moment. He couldn’t focus his eyes and everything seemed to be swaying. It took a moment, but he finally realized that he was draped across
Jordan
’s shoulder, as the soldier staggered along under Flare’s weight.

Flare struggled to lift his head, causing shooting pains to run the length of his body.

“Sir,”
Jordan
called out, “he’s awake.”

Apparently, someone called a halt to their march, but Flare was too busy fighting the urge to vomit to pay much attention.
After a few moments,
Jordan
lowered him to the ground and
he
lay there, gasping for breath.

The sun was up, directly over them, and it seemed to be blindingly bright. Then, someone leaned over him and shielded him from the brightness of the sun. It was Thomas.

“Nice trick, but it didn’t work.”