Ossendar: Book Two of the Resoration Series (55 page)

The only other thing in the room was a table. The table was in the open space between the four cages. A man lay shackled to the table. A man they all knew. It was Orval, the other swordsmen that had escorted them through Delamar. He twisted around to watch them as they entered. He looked scared, but not resigned.

At a nod from Zarum, the guards pushed each of the guardians into a separate cell. Zarum walked over to stand near Derek's cell. “You see, I need to know where you planned on meeting up with Flaranthlas. There are others who would like to keep your appointment. However, I don't want to hurt you or your fellow guardians.” The disbelief must have shown in Derek's eyes, because Zarum laughed out loud. “Don't misunderstand me, I will hurt you if you make me, but I would prefer not to.”

“You know we can't tell you anything.” Derek said quietly, hopelessness was trying to wash over him.

Zarum nodded, “I know you can't right now, but perhaps in a day or so.” He turned to face the whole room, “You see, I am a kind man. I will give you a few days to reconsider telling me what I want to know.”

Knowing he probably shouldn't ask the question, Derek asked it anyway. “And why would we reconsider?”

“I have arranged a demonstration. A demonstration of what will happen to each of you if you do not answer my questions.” A man stepped into the room and Zarum called out to him, “Ersha! They are ready for you.”

The man was into his middle years, with just a little gray in his hair above the ears. He was tall and slim, but his eyes were what drew their attention. His eyes were brown, and the lids seemed to always be about half-closed. His eyes had a dead look about them, as if he was already dead, but his body just didn't know it.

“My lord,” Ersha said bowing. His voice was hoarse and deep. “How long do you want the demonstration to last?” Several other men, younger than Ersha moved into the room and stood behind him.

Zarum glanced at the man on the table, “I couldn't care less.”

Ersha opened his mouth to speak, but Anton spoke first, “My lord, we are under a bit of a time constraint.”

Zarum sighed, “You're right.” He was silent for a moment, while he rubbed his ear, “Ersha. Make it last five days. That should be plenty.”

“As you command.”

Zarum had barely left the room, when Ersha moved over to Orval. The man on the table watched Ersha warily. It only took a few moments for Orval to begin screaming.

Chapter 23

Their trip to the
valley
of
Ail-Dasharra
had been pleasantly mundane. Morley knew the area well enough between his home and the valley, and was able to save them time by picking the quickest and easiest routes. Flare had been worried about Morley at the beginning of the journey, but he had been impressed with the trapper's professionalism, although the trapper was definitely a little loony. The man was always mumbling to himself or sometimes his dog and he had other peculiar traits as well. Sometimes, he would stand still and almost sniff the air, and on occasion he had tasted the leaves of several plants to see if anyone had traveled that way recently. The other guardians and Arnok would just watch silently, shaking their heads.

Actually, it was kind of nice when Arnok was silent, because it was such a rare thing. Morley and the dwarf rode double on Arnok's horse, and they argued from sunup to sundown. It was not a nasty angry argument; it was more like an old married couple's bickering. Flare suspected they argued because they didn't have anything else to do. Whatever the reason, it got more annoying day by day.

They had settled into a routine for the evening chores. Arnok and Morley would take care of setting up camp, and the cooking, while the guardians stood guard throughout the night. Philip was the most pleased with this arrangement, as he did not trust Morley, and didn't particularly trust Arnok either. Flare didn't mind, as cooking was not one of his favorite things to do.

They had traveled northeast from Morley's home, carefully skirting around the end of the Silver mountains, where the black forest pushed up against the mountains. They were careful to keep a watch for goblins or anything else that might threaten them. Once past the end of the mountain range, they followed the base of the mountains in an easterly direction, but the tension had eased dramatically, just being passed the
Black forest
and the threat of the goblins.

Morley had been worth ten times his weight in gold. The area around the mountains was full of ravines, bogs, and other obstacles, but with the old trapper's guidance, they made excellent time. Flare shuddered to think how long the trip would have taken without the old man. They would have been constantly back tracking and looking for a way around the obstructions.

Scratching his cheek, Flare looked ahead to the entrance to the valley, where a small river flowed. In the mid-morning light, it looked like any other narrow pass. From this point, he could see boulders around the entrance, and beyond that it seemed to open up wider. Trees were visible in the distance.

Today was the tenth day since they had left Morley's house, and they were on the doorstep into Ail-Dasharra. The
valley
of
Ail-Dasharra
was actually a pass, an opening in the mountain range. Legend said that a guardian had fought a dragon in there, fought him to a stand still. When both were on the verge of dying, the dragon had given in first and accepted the valley as its home, agreeing not to leave. Not that Flare believed there was still a dragon in the pass, he chuckled at the thought. Maybe dragon bones, but not a living dragon.

“Arnok, wait a moment.” Flare called out. Morley and Arnok were riding in front, bickering about something, as usual.

Arnok reigned his horse in. “See something,” He called out, peering around.

“No,” Flare answered. “I was wondering if you knew how long the pass is.” He watched both of them, but really the question was for Morley.

Morley shook his head, “Of course not, never been in there. Have I?” He leaned over and spat on the ground, eliciting a complaint from Arnok. “Can't be more than a couple days ride, though.”

A couple of days ride to Golteranth. The very thought made Flare nervous. What would be waiting there for him? He shivered at the thought.

Morley and Arnok were staring at him, “Anything else?” Arnok asked in his usual gruff tone. That tone was not an indication of dis-like, it was just the way he spoke.

“Yes, actually.” Flare said, not happy with what he had to say. He had been thinking about this for a several days now, and this was as good a time as any. Atock and Philip were watching too. “Morley. Arnok. I thank you for your help, but you have done all that we could ask of you. I cannot ask you to go any farther with us.” He tossed a bag of coins to Morley, “As agreed, there is your money.”

Morley looked at Flare, “You're sending us away?” Confusion in the old man's voice. Not anger, just confusion, and maybe a little relief.

Flare nodded, “You told me that you had never been in Golteranth. So, you can't help guide us through.” He motioned up the slope to the valley entrance, “Likewise with the valley. You've never been in there, so you really can't help us. The only thing you would be doing is risking your lives for our cause.”

“Lord Vinekh asked me to...” The dwarf started, but Flare spoke right over him.

“Lord Vinekh asked you to help me find Morley, which you did.” Once again he motioned towards the valley entrance, “But he never asked you to go to Golteranth with us. And I won't ask you either. We don't know what to expect once we get in there, but at the very least, I think we can expect quite a few goblins.”

“I've never ran from goblins before,” the dwarf mumbled.

Flare smiled at the dwarf, “No, but neither have you gone in there before.” He paused, considering his words, “I appreciate what both of you have done for us, but you can't help from here.”

“As you say,” Morley said smiling. It was quite obvious that he was happy to turn around and go home.

“Shut up!” Arnok snapped. Uncharacteristically, his tone actually seemed angry, not the normal bickering they were used to. “Are you sure about this, boy? You might could use us in there.”

Flare shook his head, “I won't ask you to go any farther. You have both done way more than I could have asked.”

Arnok watched him for a moment, and then nodded. Pulling his horse's head around, he moved close to Flare. “Good luck in there.” Reaching out, he grasped Flare's forearm and then rode off. The old trapper's voice could still be heard clearly.

“Now, let's travel a little north before we turn back west. It ought to be easier traveling and safer too.”

They entered the valley, shortly after Arnok and Morley started their trip home. Flare rode in front, Philip was in the middle, and Atock brought up the rear. They rode quietly, each one straining to hear anything out of the ordinary. Flare was a little jumpy, probably due to the folklore associated with this valley. He scanned the sky, wondering if a dragon ever really called this place home.

The pass looked like an ordinary mountain valley. The mountains rose frighteningly high to their left and right, although the pass did open up almost as soon as they entered. It had kept widening, until now it looked to be about a mile wide. There were no trails through the valley, and it was overgrown with vegetation. Bushes, trees, and thickets made riding in any semblance of a straight line almost impossible. Several times, they hit dead ends and had to back track.

The valley was also overflowing with animals. The tree limbs were crowded with birds, some of them familiar, but most of them totally foreign. Deer leaped across their path numerous times, and goats watched them from higher up on the mountain sides.

A river ran at the bottom, right in the middle of the pass. It wasn't overly large, maybe fifty yards across at its widest point, but it did appear deep in parts. They could see the fish swimming lazily in the shallows.

“Beautiful, isn't it?” Atock asked.

Flare was inclined to agree. Growing up in the northern forests had given him a deep love of hunting and fishing, and this looked like the perfect place. He was pleased that they hadn't come through here in the summertime. If they had, he would have been sorely tempted by those shade trees. He could remember lying under a tree as a kid, with his fishing lines in the water nearby, falling asleep listening to the water flow by. He was tempted to lie down and take a nap, now.

“Stay alert,” Philip called back. “You never know who or what might be hiding behind the next tree.”

Guiltily, Flare pulled his eyes off of the river, and back to their surroundings. He hated to admit it, but Philip was right, at least this time.

The river and trees were so relaxing, that Flare had to keep forcing his mind back to the task at hand.

They stopped for lunch a little after mid-day. They ate while sitting under a large evergreen tree, maybe twenty yards from the river. Old hard bread and salted pork left over from dinner the night before, with cold river water to wash it down. It was not the greatest meal that Flare had ever eaten. They ate in silence, with Flare finishing first. Rubbing the crumbs off of his hands,, he laid back in the soft and springy grass, putting his right arm over his face to shield his eyes. They had to get moving, but surely it wouldn't hurt to lie here for a few minutes.

Flare woke to a boot prodding him in the side.

“Wake up, Flare. We need to get moving.” Philip's voice was jarring compared to the soothing gurgling of the river.

Popping up to the sitting position, Flare rubbed his eyes and stretched. “Where's Atock?” He asked looking around.

Philip nodded up the slope of the mountain. “He went up that way about an a half an hour ago. He wanted to get a better view of our surroundings.” He finished clearing up the items from lunch, and started straitening up the area, trying to prevent leaving any obvious tracks.

It took a moment, but Philip's words finally sunk in. “What?! Did you say a half hour ago?”

Philip stopped working, and turned towards Flare, “Yes. Why?”

Anger, mainly at himself, bubbled over him. “How long was I asleep?” He glanced up, trying to locate the location of the sun.

Philip shrugged, “About an hour. Why?”

Climbing quickly to his feet, Flare dusted himself off. “Damn it! I didn't mean to waste time.” He moved quickly to help finish cleaning up, but there wasn't anything left to do. He looked around, frustrated, but Philip had already taken care of everything.

Just then, Atock hurried back through the trees, looking worried. “We got to go. Now!”

Both Philip and Flare stopped working, and stared at Atock. “What's the matter?” Flare asked, anxiety rising in his stomach.

Atock pointed back the way they had come, “Goblins are coming up quick on our trail, must be twenty to thirty of them. They must have followed up into the pass.”

“How close?” Philip asked.

“Two miles. Maybe.” Atock was still panting hard from his run back.

“Mount up,” Flare called dashing to his horse. “Atock, you bring up the rear.” He cursed under his breath, his falling asleep could have cost them their lives, thank the gods that Atock decided to climb the slope.