Into the Wastelands: Book Four of the Restoration Series (34 page)

“Addamon, d
o not forget your orders.”

The monster looked backwards and an ugly hateful look came over him.
He continued to stare for a moment and then turned and, giving Atock one more
malevolent
look, he entered the passage after the fleeing goblins.

In just a few moments, all four of the monsters had gone, leaving only the Guardians, the dwarves, Warren, and Jerrold.

The four demons squeezed through the narrow passage and launched themselves into the throngs of goblins below. They slashed, cut, and ripped their way into the multitude. In a matter of moments, the remaining goblins were running for the tunnel on the far side of the cavern. The number of goblins killed by the demons paled in comparison to the number that were trampled to death in their panicked retreat.

Addamon killed one of the four humans by running him through with his sword. It was the second fighter but not the bald leader. The man died quickly and Addamon relished the pain and fear that was all around him. The only regret he had was that he was bound to follow the orders of the half-human conjurer. Oh, how that galled him. Until released, he had no choice but to follow his orders, and the conjurer had been very careful in his word. There was little room for interpretation.

“Do not kill the defenders in the room with the lake, but instead kill the attackers. Goblin, ogre, troll, or giant; kill them all. Pursue them and kill as many as you can.”

Addamon kicked the human corpse away and prepared to spring after the fleeing goblins, but he caught a scent of something on the air. He looked to his left, up amongst the rocks,
and
there
he noticed what
appeared to be two goblins hiding behind a small boulder. To his eyes, though, they appeared as they really were. Two human sorcerers ensorcel
l
ed
to look like goblins. He tilted his head considering. He could kill them easily enough but he was not compelled to. A wicked looking grin spread across his face. Perhaps he would leave these two alive, and with any luck, perhaps they would
mess
up the plans of the half-human who had summoned him.

Chapter
27

For several moments, there was a confused and amazed sort of silence. They all looked around, surprised to be still living and, for the most part, in reasonably good health. The spell was broken by Aaron slumping to the ground and cradling his
left
arm. Mikela rushed to help him, but the others turned their attention to Flare.

“What? – What were those things?” Heather demanded.

“Demons,” Flare answered easily enough, but he couldn’t miss the apprehension and fear that passed over their faces.

“Where did you learn wizardry?” Dagan asked. He was pale, but whether from simple exhaustion or fear it was impossible to tell.

“I an not allowed to speak of it,” Flare said, regretting that he had to withhold
the truth
from his friends.
An angry look crossed Dagan’s face and Flare hurried on. “What is important is that I am not Kelcer’s Destroyer!” They all stood there, just looking at him; even Aaron and Mikela had stopped and were watching him. “The Kelcer prophecy is about two men; one good and one bad. It’s like we’re in a race. If he restore the Dragon Order then it will be remade as an abomination, but
if
I restore the Order, then it will be like it was before.”

“Is that a good thing?” Enton asked.

“Better than the alternative,” Flare answered immediately. “You do not want to see the Order restored under Zalustus.”

Dagan gasped and all eyes turned towards
him. “D
o you remember what the King of Aramonia said to us?
He said his grandfather thought the Kelcer prophecy might be about two men.” His eyes were wide and a grin spread across his face. “The old man might of had it right after all.”

Flare looked from face to face. In some there were cautio
us
hope, but doubt and fear still resided in others, until he reached Warren, who was grinning like a fool. He continued to watch this unknown person and then he reached out with sorcery, trying to learn more about this man. 

Warren
’s smile disappeared, “What are you doing?” he asked.

Flare didn’t answer but kept right on trying to discern who or what this man was. One thing became clear real quick. “What are you?” he asked.

Warren
swallowed hard, “My name is
Warren
. I am the sworn protector of these lands.”

Flare snorted and looked back to the passage where the goblins had fled. “Haven’t been doing too good a job, have you?”

Warren
colored a little and Jerrold frowned mightily.

“However, I didn’t ask who you are, but what you are.”

The Guardians and the dwarves were paying close attention now. They all stared from Flare to
Warren
and back again.

“Flare,” Heather said cautiously, “
Warren
helped us get here.”

Flare helped up a hand to silence Heather. Although irritated in being treated in such a manner, she held her tongue.

“You are not human, nor are you elven,” Flare said slowly. “So I repeat my earlier question; what are you?”

Jerrold’s hand had slid down to rest on the hilt of his sword but
Warren
knocked his hand away. “None of that,” he said to his lieutenant. Turning his gaze back to Flare, he said, “I will explain all in a moment, but may I first see Ossendar?”

Flare’s head tilted a bit and for a moment he thought of all the people who had tried to steal the blade from him.

Warren
must have sensed Flare’s uneasiness because he spoke quickly. “I don’t mean to hold the sword, but I would like to see it.”

Seeing no harm in this request, Flare held Ossendar horizontal in front of him.
Warren
approached quickly and looked the blade over. Finally he stepped back and smiled.

“It really is
Ossendar
. I feared that I would die before this day came.”

Warren
’s statement made
Flare
remember
the dwarven king’s words that were similar but reversed, ‘
I always hoped that this day would not come while I yet lived.’

“Alright, you’ve seen the sword. Now, tell me who and what you are,” Flare said, putting Ossendar back in its sheath.

“My name is Warren Orina and I am the crown prince of the Fae.”

It took a moment for the words to make sense to him, but then Flare gasped in astonishment. “Fae!? Do you mean Faerum?” At these words, several other gasps came from the others but Flare ignored them. “I thought the Faerum were ten feet tall,” he said.

“And isn’t Faerum skin supposed to be blue?” Enton asked skeptically.

Warren
smiled. “Nonsense, we resemble humans. We would’ve been caught a long time ago otherwise.”

“But why have you remained hidden since the Third War of the Races?” Flare asked. A part of him wanted to remain suspicious of the claim, but his senses told him that something was definitely different about these two. Faerum was as good an explanation as any.

“We were give a sacred charge by our god, Nephur. Those of us that remained were to guard our lands and the armor Nerandall until it was needed. We have been promised that we would be restored if we faithfully kept our charge.”

“Restored?” Dagan repeated. “And aren’t you supposed to have your own innate type of magic?”

Warren
nodded once in Dagan’s direction. “That is true, but we lost that ability when we were punished. Nephur punished us for our whimsical ways. Our cities were laid waste and we were stripped of our magic. We have waited a long time to be restored and that time is at hand.”

Flare could care less about innate magics and long dead cities, but something else
Warren
had said had caught
his
attention. “You guard Nerandall?”

Still smiling,
Warren
nodded his head. “Yes
. Are you ready to take possession of it?”

“Wait!” Heather said loudly and forcefully. All eyes turned to her and she proceeded in a calmer voice, “Just like that? Flare shows up and says that all of the good things in Kelcer apply to him but none of the bad things do, and just like that you believe him? Did you not see him summon demons?”
Her questions caused the others to look troubled and they
c
ouldn’t meet Flare’s gaze.

Her words cut him like a knife. He knew many would hate and fear him for the monster they thought he was, but he had hoped these men and women would know him better. “Heather,” Flare said softly, “you know me. I’m not a monster. I don’t kill the innocent; I never have. Oh, I’ve killed plenty, but not the innocent. Do not listen to what the Church has said about Kelcer for they have been wrong. Deep down, do you really think that I could do the things that the Church would have you believe I am to do?”

For several long moments Heather didn’t answer. She just stood there, studying him, looking for any signs of deceit or malice. Finally, she dropped her eyes, “Gods help me, no,” the words came out choked up and her eyes were bright. “Please don’t let me be wrong.”

Flare smiled at her for a moment, a huge weight having been lifted from his shoulders.
One of his greatest fears was that no one would accept him, but that was not to be the case. There were some who would give him a chance and that was all it took.
Then he turned back to
Warren
, “Now, where is Nerandall?”

Without looking,
Warren
pointed behind him, directly at the lake, “Down there.”

“In there?” several voices called out in unison.

Warren
nodded and said, “Getting to it is easier than you might think.” He pointed up to the right of the passage that led to the cavern with the waterfall. There is a mechanism up there to allow the water to flow out of this cavern and into the next. Then we can get the armor easily enough.”

Flare motioned at the wall and said, “Please, show me.”

The monstrous demon charged past Tristan and Henry and the two nearly collapsed from the fear.

“I thought we were dead,” Henry said, gasping for breath.

“Adel spared us,” Tristan answered, watching the demon as it chased the goblins. “Things are worse than we knew.”

“How’s that?” Henry asked. He let the ward go and once again appeared as a man. They had used sorcery to sneak into the first cavern, but they had kept a good distance from the humans, just in case one of them was a sorcerer. The ward was a small one and turned inward on its caster; there was little chance they would be caught.

“That was a demon,” Tristan answered, “which means that bastard Flaranthlas is here too.”

“How,” Henry demanded once he found his voice. “How could he be here? We would have seen him.”

Tristan twisted around and got right in Henry’s face. “Pay attention! It doesn’t matter how he’s here. What matters is that we have to seize this opportunity and rid the world of this monster!”

Henry took a deep breath and recoiled a little from the heat in Tristan’s tone. “How?” he asked simply.

Tristan pulled back a little and grinned, “I have no idea, but we will trust in Adel to show us the way.”

Warren
climbed the rocks to the right of the opening that led to the waterfall cavern. It wasn’t an easy climb; the rocks were slick with centuries of fungus growth and several times he nearly fell.  At last he reached the small alcove at the top of the wall
, nearly thirty feet above the floor
. Recessed in the small opening was a glowing red stone. He had seen this stone before. When he was named crown prince, he had been brought here and shown this stone, as had all the other princes before him. Reaching in, he removed the stone from its setting. It was the first time in millennia that the stone had been removed.

For a moment nothing happened and then there came such a noise that only could be described as thunder. It reverberated through the room and
loose stones began to fall.

Startled by the sudden noise,
Warren
lost his grip on the slimy rocks and fell. His eyes widened and he opened his mouth to scream, but the scream died on his lips.

As soon as the Fae had fallen, Flare had
used sorcery and
grabbed him with
his spirit
and gently brought him to the ground.
He set
Warren
down on the shore near the rest of them. All the while the sound of thunderings continued. The wall of the cavern where the water flowed out and made the waterfall in the next cavern was splintering. Huge chunks of stone fell and everyone scrambled back out of the way. No one was hit by the falling rock but they were all soaked by the stones falling into the water, causing huge splashes.

After a moment, the rock quit falling and the noise died down. A huge opening had been torn in the wall and the water from the lake rushed out.
Judging by the small hole and the huge amount of water, it would take some time for it to completely drain away.

They were all gathered around on the receding shoreline, watching the water rush out. Flare wondered if the armor would really be there, and if so, what state it would be in after millennia in the water.

“What happens next?” Dagan asked, breaking the silence. “What happens after you get the armor?”

Flare took a deep breath, “I’m headed to Aramonia. I heard a rumor that the  King has the helmet of Ashteroth.”

Dagan and Heather exchanged glances at that. “Well,” Heather said slowly, “he did have the helmet
,
but not anymore.”

Flare quickly turned towards them. “How do you know that?” he demanded.

“We sort of broke into the king’s treasure room to get a copy of the Kelcer prophecy and then some of Zalustus’ Lieutenants took advantage of the situation to steal the helmet.
”

Flare just stared, not knowing whether to believe them or not.

Heather pointed at Agminion, “That’s where we got Agminion. He is, or was the king’s sorcerer. We were captured and put in the king’s dungeon.”

Flare’s eyes flicked to Agminion and he asked, “Did you help them escape?”

“Yes and no,” Agminion answered. “I did help them escape, but only because the king ordered me to.”

Shaking his head as if to clear it, Flare asked the only thing he could think of, “Why?”

The king thought the Guardians might be doing a necessary thing, but he didn’t want to get into trouble if the Church found out.”

Laughing, Flare clapped Agminion on the shoulder. It was the first time he had laughed in ages.

“Flare,” Mikela asked cautiously, “didn’t you hear Heather say that Zalustus has the helmet?”

Flare nodded, “But I have Ossendar and I’m about to have Nerandall. That gives me two of the signs and he only has one.”