Ossendar: Book Two of the Resoration Series (72 page)

There was a stunned moment of silence, but then goblets around the room were raised and a single word was spoken. “Brothers.”

King Darion smiled and lowered his goblet to his lips, and then he sat it on the table. Then, he clapped his hands, “Now. Let's enjoy this wonderful food, while it is still hot.” Then he sat back down and servants began dipping food onto the plates of the nobles.

The food was good, but Flare barely picked at his plate. His appetite had vanished. The time passed so slowly, why was he forced into watching all of this? The anger was on a slow boil, just beneath the surface.

Apparently Atock picked up on his mood, leaned close. “Are you all right?”

Flare was spared having to lie as King Darion chose that moment to stand.

“My fellow lords and ladies. I am honored that you are here to share this wonderful night with me and my family.” He paused for a moment and scanned the faces. “As you know, Prince Darion was killed in an accident several days ago. So, it is pleasing to me that we can celebrate this joyous night, so soon after the crown prince's death.”

A funny feeling settled in Flare's stomach. Was this why his father wanted him here? Or was there something else?

The crowd was deathly quiet at the king's words. Most of them were probably unsure of how to react to the king discussing the crown prince's death.

“I have decided that Prince Barrett will be the new crown prince. He will be my heir.”

Utter silence greeted these words. Flare was surprised that Danal was watching him intently. “You already knew?” Flare asked quietly.

Danal nodded, “Judging by your reaction, you knew as well.”

Flare nodded in answer.

“Barrett will also lead our troops against our enemies to the east.” King Darion continued, not a person stirred amongst the nobles. “And he will carry Ossendar with him when he does.” King Darion pulled the blade out from under his cloak and held it horizontally above his head with his right hand.

For another moment, complete silence reigned in the hall, and then there was an explosion of sound. It seemed like a thousand conversations broke out, and each one talking louder than their neighbor. There were looks of fear on some of them.

The sounds were silenced when King Darion raised his voice and shouted for silence. Flare was sure that none of them had ever seen the king of Telur shouting for silence. Nevertheless, it worked and silence fell once again over the crowd.

King Darion smiled, “Now, I assume that none of you are foolish enough to think that Prince Barrett will restore the Dragon Order; it is quite clear that he does not fulfill the Kelcer prophecy.”

Those faces, that had been fearful, eased a little at the king's words. Other faces showed surprise and worry, these were the people that hadn't even thought about Kelcer, and were now startled by the king mentioning it.

Flare could feel Angaria's eyes boring into him, but he chose not to look at the main table. Let Angaria think what he would.

“I assure you that the prophecy says that the person who restores the Order will carry the sword, but it does not say that the person who carries the sword will restore the Order.” He smiled, trying to calm the nervousness of the nobles. “I assure you that frightful day has not come yet.”

Slowly, doubtfully, the tension eased in the nobles. Here and there, smiles even began popping up again.

“Tonight, after dinner, according to our traditions, Prince Barrett will retire to the Nobles tower. He will spend the next two days in meditation and reflection. And when he comes down at sunrise on the third day, he will be our crown prince.”

“Hail Prince Barrett!” Several people shouted, and the chant was quickly taken up.

Flare had no doubts whatsoever, that the people chanting were doing so on orders. Someone was trying hard to make Barrett look good. The chants went on for a while, but he did not participate. The anger that was on a slow boil was getting close to boiling over.

King Darion raised his arms, and slowly the chanting died away. “Please join me and my family in the main ball room. There will be dancing and music. And those of you, who wish to, may congratulate the new crown prince and his betrothed.”

Flare was sure that the nobles would fall all over themselves to be first in line. However, he would congratulate them over his rotting corpse.

King Darion and King Brayton led the main table out of the room, as they walked between the three tables and out the entrance. Angaria leaned over and said something to Barrett, who then looked at Flare and chuckled.

At that moment, Flare would gladly have clawed the young whelp's eyes out. And right then it all clicked into place. This could not stand. He had to right this injustice. The anger disappeared, and a calmness settled in its place. He knew what he had to do, and it saddened him.

The nobles from the main table had made their exit, and there was general confusion as the remaining nobles sitting at the three tables rose to follow. Atock and Danal were both swept away in the pushing and pulling crowd.

Unwilling to follow, Flare stepped out of the crowd and stood against the far wall. It wouldn't take long for the room to clear, and then he could leave quietly.

“Hello, Flare.” Dagan said, stepping up to join him. “Some dinner, huh?” The old man smiled sardonically.

Flare did not return the smile. A thought had just occurred to him, a very unpleasant thought. He glanced around. The crowd of nobles had pretty much disappeared, and only a few remained, talking quietly. Nevertheless, Flare reached out with his spirit, and used it to create a barrier around him and Dagan. He did not want anyone to hear their conversation.

Dagan's eyes widened and he looked around hurriedly. “What are you doing?” He asked quietly.

Flare too looked around. “No need to be quiet. No one can hear us.”

Looking a little rattled, Dagan said. “Okay, so no one can hear us. Now what are you doing?”

Knowing that this was the point of no return, Flare plunged ahead. “I need a favor.”

“Okay. You know that I will do whatever I can, but why the barrier? Just come see me tomorrow.”

Flare shook his head. “No. It has to start tonight.”

Dagan ran his hand through his hair, “Well? What is so important?”

“I need you to get Atock and Cassandra and get them out of Telur. Do not delay.”

Dagan's eyes went wide. “Flare, what are you planning?”

Flare smiled slightly, “Don't ask. Just please do as I ask.” He turned to go, but Dagan reached a bony hand out and grabbed him by the elbow.

“This makes no sense. You are not the one, so the sword doesn't matter.” He wore a pleading look.

Flare put a hand on the old man's shoulder. “I'm truly sorry about this, but you need to get them and yourself out of Telur.” He paused for just a moment. “I am not evil. You know that.” He paused again, this was difficult to say. “I do fit the Kelcer prophecy.”

Dagan shook his head, “No, you don't. Kelcer says specifically that the one who restores the Dragon Order would be born under the sign of the Prince. You were born under the sign of the Tree.”

Flare sighed, and shook his head. He couldn't meet Dagan's eyes, and instead dropped his gaze to the floor. “No. My mother concealed my birth under the sign of the Prince, and instead said I was born under the sing of the Tree. She did it to protect me.”

Dagan looked simply stunned. His lips moved, but no words came out.

Flare looked around and then leaned closer. “You know me. I am not an evil person, but somehow I do fulfill the Kelcer prophecy. I can not explain the horrible things that he said I will do, but you have to trust me.”

Dagan opened his mouth again, blinked twice, and then closed his mouth with a snap.

An old man that Flare did not recognize, approached. “Dagan, my old friend. How have you been?”

Flare dropped the barrier, and spoke so the old man could hear him easily. “If you will excuse me, I think I will retire to my chambers.” He left the two old men and walked towards the entrance. Half expecting Dagan to shout for the guards to stop him, but the shout never came. Instead, he walked through the entrance and into the hallway beyond.

Focusing his spirit as he walked to his apartments, Flare easily picked out the two people who followed him. Undoubtedly, Angaria did not want him to disturb Barrett's trip to the Royal tower. He frowned, or perhaps those who followed him had more dire commands. Could they have been sent to remove him as a threat, forever? That thought sent a chill down his spine, but then again he really shouldn't be surprised. Was there anything that Angaria wouldn't do?

His followers were still there, trailing him quietly, maybe twenty or thirty yards behind him.

He rounded a corner and quickly darted into a recessed alcove. There was a tapestry on the wall, and he lifted it and slid behind it, at least partially behind it. An idea had occurred to him, but he wasn't sure it would work. His right hand dropped to the hilt of his belt knife. If his plan didn't work, then he would have to kill the guards quickly.

Dagan had instructed him on how to create an image, but he had never done anything as big as this before.

He relaxed his breathing and allowed his eyes to almost close. He exerted his self-control on his spirit, forcing the image he held in his mind's eye to form in the hallway.

One of his followers walked around the corner, just as Flare finished the image. For a brief moment, he was afraid his follower had turned the corner before the image was complete, but the man did not react as if he had spotted anything out of the ordinary.

Flare had created an image of himself. The image walked slowly down the hall. It was difficult to maintain, but it should keep walking directly to his rooms, go in, and then close the door. At least that's what his two followers should see.

The man who rounded the corner was surprised and he quickly retreated to the corner, where he stood peering down the hallway at Flare's image.

Flare cursed silently. His image should have been another fifteen to twenty yards down the hallway, but he had formed it too close. The image was moving quickly down the hallway, and turned left at the next intersection.

The first man that had already rounded the corner, and a second man that Flare had not yet seen, moved around the corner and quickly and quietly moved down the hallway, following the illusion. Both men were rough looking, like they had been in a fight or two before. The one in front had a long scar that ran down the side of his face.

The two men paused, directly in front of the alcove where Flare hid. “Why did he slow down?” The first one whispered.

The other one shook his head, “Don't know, and I don't care.” He jerked his head in the direction that Flare's image had gone, “Come on.”

He watched the two men as they passed. He hadn't seen either of them before, but they wore the livery of the king's guard. That was a surprise. He had expected these men to be Angaria's not King Darion's. It was possible that Angaria had given the orders to the king's guard, but with a sickening feeling, he realized that it was also possible the orders had come directly from the king. He pushed those thoughts away. Soon, very soon, it wouldn't be his concern.

Chapter 30

Flare stood on a balcony overlooking the courtyard. After tricking his two followers, he had come to these apartments, assuming no one would bother him. He had forced the door open, and now stood in the darkness on the balcony of the unoccupied room, a room that had once belonged to Prince Darion. The room was lavishly furnished, but he had passed through without even noticing. His goal had been the balcony.

The balcony overlooked the courtyard and the milling throng below. There was a railing that came up to his waist, and he knelt behind it now, looking over the courtyard. Torches were scattered throughout the crowd, providing a little light. Snowflakes had started to fall lightly, but it was doubtful there would be much accumulation. Normally at this time of night, the courtyard would be completely empty, excepting guards making their rounds, but not tonight. Tonight the nobles and servants alike were crammed in shoulder to shoulder. They were waiting for Prince Barrett to enter the Royal tower, and when he emerged he would be the new crown prince.

Flare gritted his teeth at the very thought. Barrett was welcome to the crown, Flare did not want it, but the only way that spoiled rotten boy would carry Ossendar, was if Flare was worm food.

Sighing, he glanced around the courtyard and tower, looking for a way, any way to get the sword back. One thing was for sure, it wasn't going to happen with all of these people here.

The tower was a cylindrical tower rising from the grounds to almost a hundred feet into the air. There was one entrance, an arched doorway at the bottom of the tower facing the castle. Two rows of guards stood ten feet apart facing each other, forming a guarded lane for the prince to walk down. Several times, onlookers pushed too hard against the lines of guards, and the guards ruthlessly shoved them back, bloodying a boy's nose on one occasion.

“Okay,” Flare said quietly, talking to himself. “Can't get the sword before he enters the tower, so, I have to get it once he's in there. But how?” There had to be a way, there just had to be.