Ossendar: Book Two of the Resoration Series (56 page)

They ran the horses as fast they could go, given the rough terrain, but Flare kept them close to the river. The riding along the bank was much smoother than trying to ride through the trees and thickets. It didn't take long, before the horses were sweating and blowing hard, but they didn't ease up on them. Running their horses to death, would be bad, but not as bad as being caught by the goblins.

Their surroundings seemed to fly past, but they were too busy to pay much attention. They were gradually forced away from the river as trees started growing right up against the shore bank, hanging out over the river. He did notice that the slope of the ground was rising, not drastically, but it was rising. Off in the distance, the river turned more violent, and gave way to rapids. He didn't find the gurgling of the river so relaxing anymore.

He led them along what seemed to be a deer trail. It appeared seldom used, but it was better than charging through the forest at break neck speed. At least it was a little better, not much though as the shrubs and tree limbs whipped them across the face and arms. As they moved farther along the trail, they gradually slowed their pace down. The trail was barely deserving of the name, and it was difficult to keep up a fast pace.

They kept riding through the afternoon; all three of them kept looking over their shoulders, trying to see any followers. Flare kept turning around so much, that he made his neck sore over time, but he kept right on checking.

Gradually the pass opened up. It looked like it was roughly in the shape of a diamond. Then had entered in one of the small narrow points of the diamond, and now the valley was getting wider. As the day wore on, it widened to its maximum point, and then started getting narrower again.

The deer trail wound first north and then back south, winding through the trees and shrubs. Late in the day, the slope of the trail turned back downwards, which at least made the riding easier.

Birds chirped at them, and squirrels chittered from the overhanging branches, but Flare barely noticed. They rushed on down the trail. Frowning, he realized that their path was being chosen for them by the wanderings of the deer. He pushed that thought from his mind, it wasn't helping after all.

They pushed on through the day. The pass started out in the shape of a diamond, and just before sundown, they passed through the far end of the diamond. At this point, the pass was no more than twenty yards across. The valley opened back up again for a short distance, before narrowing again at the far end of the pass. He pointed to the mountains, “Judging by the mountain range, we're maybe three quarters of the way through.”

“We can't keep going in the dark,” Atock called out from the rear. “We'll maim our horses if we do.” It wasn't really dark yet, but it was getting there, and it was going to be a dark night as the overcast sky would surely hide the moon.

Flare did not want to stop, not at all, but if they didn't, then the horses wouldn't be of any good to them and they still needed them. It was a long way still to
Mount
Ogular
.

Reigning in, he looked up at the mountain towering over them; it was black against the darkening sky. “Fine, let's make camp over there.” He pointed at a small clump of trees up against the base of the mountain.

Flare slid from his saddle, exhaustion washing over him. They had to sleep fast and then run through the daylight again tomorrow, that should get them out of the pass in the early afternoon. Then, all they had to do, was lose the goblins in the flat lands beyond.

He barely noticed the pain in his legs and back, there wasn't enough time to bother with pain. “Philip, see to the horses. Atock, pitch camp, but I want to be able to leave in a moment's notice.”

They both turned to look at Flare, “Where are you going?” They both asked, almost in unison.

Sighing, he pointed up the steep slope of the mountain. “I'm going to climb up a little bit and see if I can spot our pursuers.” He didn't wait for them to respond, but instead he started off at a slow jog.

It took a while for him to find a way up the slope. It was dangerously steep and in spots it was almost vertical, but Flare struggled up the loose gravel strewn incline. Twice, he nearly fell, but both times, he caught himself at the last moment. After about a half an hour, he reached a large ledge that was easily a hundred yards long. He pulled himself onto the ledge, and lay there for a moment, resting. After a few moments, he climbed to his feet. From this point, he could see both the large diamond shape portion of the pass that they had ridden through all day long, and the much smaller portion of the pass that they had just entered around dusk.

The sun had set while Flare was climbing, and the valley was in dark shadows. He scrutinized the valley, back up the way that had come, looking for any movement or sign of their pursuers. Nothing.

Flare stood there for several moments, trying desperately to see any sign of their pursuers. He should have been happy that he couldn't see them, perhaps they were far enough ahead of their pursuers, but somehow he didn't believe it.

And then a strange thought occurred to him. A perfectly simple thought, and in all honesty, something he should have thought of a long time ago. Feeling like a fool, Flare relaxed his mind and started listening to the quiet rhythm of his breathing. After a moment, he felt the familiar sinking feeling and his limbs felt numb and heavy. Almost without trying, he felt his spirit flow from him. It was a wonderful and at the same time, terrifying feeling.

With his senses sharpened by the sorcery, Flare once again scrutinized the valley, looking for any sign of the goblins. The dense foliage blocked him from seeing everything, but still he was amazed at how different the valley looked. From the small shrubs growing on the mountain side, to the river running over the rocks, everywhere he looked there was an abundance of life. The wind blew, and the trees whipped around. There was nothing unusual in that, but he could hear the limbs creaking, and see the veins in the leaves.

Despite the almost sexual feeling that sorcery had given him, he still had not located the goblins. Forcing his mind back to the task at hand, he reached out with his spirit. There was no other way to describe it. He sent his spirit flowing back into the valley, looking for any signs of life. It didn't take long to realize that it was a mistake, as he became aware of the teeming life of the valley; everything from small birds in their nests, to the fish in the river, to the worms in the earth. They all were found by his spirit, and it felt like they were overloading him.

Quickly, Flare pulled his spirit back. He kneeled down for a moment, and panted. He felt like he had run up the mountain slope for an hour straight. After a few moments, his breathing slowed, and he looked back out over the valley. 'Let's try that again.' Reaching out again with his spirit, this time he sent it looking for a particular type of life, not just life in general. Thinking hard about goblins, he let his spirit flow back into the valley. It wormed its way around the trees and between the rocks, searching out what he had sent it looking for. Just before he was ready to give up, he found them. The goblins were gathered under a small clump of trees, but the best part was that they had fallen behind. They had to be at least four miles behind now, perhaps a littler farther.

Greatly relieved, Flare headed back down the mountain.

Derek sat on the floor and rubbed his eyes. He hadn't slept much in the last two days, instead he had spent those days listening and watching as Orval was being slowly tortured to death. His eyes were red from lack of sleep; it was hard to sleep while a man you knew was screaming. Oh, Orval didn't scream constantly, there were times when he passed out and for a while, there was a blessed quiet. But those times didn't last too long, and then Ersha would start back in on him.

Orval was still laying on the table in between the cells, still chained in the same manner as when the guardians had entered the room, but he looked a lot worse now. His left hand was now missing two fingers, and both feet were missing toes. The fingers and toes that still remained were a bloody mess. Finger nails and toe nails had been pulled off, and sharp needles had been pushed into the soft tissue under where the nails had once been.

Orval's face wasn't much better. His jaw had been broken, and it was now swollen grotesquely. Adding to the swelling was the fact that some of Orval's teeth had been yanked out.

The rest of Orval's body was just as bad. He was covered with burn marks, cuts, and bruises. It was truly a horrible thing to witness. On several occasions, Orval had lost control of his bodily functions, but his torturers had made him lie in the mess for two days before cleaning him up this morning. Derek's first thought was that they had just gotten sick of the smell, but he had been completely wrong. They had other reasons for cleaning the swordsman up.

Kara sat on the floor in her cell on the opposite side of the room. Her back was to the table, and her head rested in her hands. She had gotten sick early on the first day, and had refused to watch since then. Sometimes, when Orval was unconscious, Derek could hear Kara's quiet sobs and his heart ached for her.

Trestus was in the cell to Derek's right, and he had held up well, so far. Like Derek, he was disgusted by the man's sufferings, but he had forced himself to watch. It had been Trestus that had been the first to offer encouragement to Orval, not that they really believed he could hear them.

Enstorion was in the cell diagonally opposite from Derek's, and he too had watched the torturers at their work, but he seemed more detached than any of the others. It had to bother him, but somehow he didn't let it show like the rest of them did. His face was impassive, his emotions hidden.

They had seen Ersha and his henchmen over the past two days, but none of the others. In fact, Ersha was the one that was there most of the time. The man seemed to take pleasure in torturing others. Derek was not entirely sure, but he thought that the man had been sexually aroused during one of the torturing episodes.

Ersha was not here at the moment. He had taken one of his rare breaks, to eat or sleep, Derek did not know which, and if the truth be told, he didn't care. Two of Ersha's lieutenants moved about the room, preparing for when he would return. They wore long leather aprons, kind of like what a butcher wore, and now Derek knew why. The aprons were covered with blood and gore.

The door opened and Prince Keenan strode into the room. He glanced at Orval lying on the table, and his lip curled in disgust. Ersha's lieutenants moved towards the prince, and he dismissed them with a wave of his hand. “Leave us.” The two men hesitated, glancing at one another, and he shouted at them. “Now!” They practically fell over each other running from the room.

Keenan moved closer, careful to keep his distance from the mess in the middle. He stopped next to Derek's cell, and studied the guardian carefully. “Disgusting people. Aren't they?”

Derek didn't know how to answer that question. They were slowly torturing a man to death, and they seemed to be enjoying it, disgusting didn't go far enough in describing them. “What do you want?”

“Come. Come. Don't get mad at me, I didn't do this.” He looked at the table. “I was sent to see if you had reconsidered the high-king's request for information.”

“Of course not,” Derek spat. “I can't tell you anything, and you know that.”

Keenan looked around and then leaned closer to Derek. “I would reconsider that my friend. The king will not hesitate to put each one of you on that table.”

Derek did not answer, but just glared at the prince.

“Derek. Listen to me.” He leaned in even closer, “You'll go last. You will have to watch the elf and the fighter going first. You can stop this.”

“What? If we tell him what he wants to know, he's going to let us go free?” Derek didn't believe it for a moment.

“No.” Keenan answered, “But you won't go on the table. The three of you will die quickly.”

“Three?” Derek repeated, confused. And then he realized what Keenan had said, 'You'll go last. You will have to watch the elf and the fighter going first.' He hadn't mentioned Kara. With a dread settling over him, Derek quietly asked the question. “And what about Kara?”

Not meeting Derek's eyes, Keenan sighed, “This fort has almost a thousand men.” He paused, seemingly not wanting to continue. “The king has decided that those men need a woman's companionship. If you don't talk, she will be turned over to them.” He swallowed, “I wouldn't wish that on anyone.”

“That man is a monster!” Derek growled, his tone almost bestial.

Keenan nodded, “Yes, he is.”

Derek blinked, confused, the last thing he had expected was for Keenan to agree with him. “Then why do you follow him?”

Once again Keenan did not meet Derek's eyes. “I have no choice.”

Derek snorted, “Not true. We always have a choice.”

Keenan's head whipped up, “Do we? I am the crown prince of Tizen. What happens to me in Telur, if I admit to that?” There was an anger showing in his eyes, now. “Well? I'll tell you what would happen. I would be crucified, or hung, and that is if I was lucky, and the same thing goes for my people. They have to hide and live in secrecy, because if they are ever found, they will die. So you see, I really don't have a choice.”

Derek grasped the bars and leaned close, “So what? If that monster out there wins, what do you think will happen to the wonderful people of Tizen. How many of them will be on this very same table?” There was a passion and an anger in his words.