Victory and Defeat: Book Five of the Restoration Series (17 page)

Chapter
17

Heather awoke with a dull aching in her head. She had indulged a bit the night before, perhaps a bit too much.

The sun was streaming in th
rough the window and she covered her eyes with the end of the blanket. The darkness helped a bit, but she knew what she really needed — food. The food would make her feel better, but the the mere thought of food disgusted her.

A sound reached her ears
, and she strained her dulled senses to figure out what it was. It sounded like someone was sawing a tree down outside her window. It took her a few moments to remember that there weren’t any trees within blocks of their inn.

Groaning, Heather pushed herself to a sitting position and just sat there, wonde
ring dully where that Gods-awful sound was coming from.

After a few moments, she decided that she wasn’t going to be sick and forced herself to her feet. She stumbled over and poked her head out the window. She looked up and down the small alley that her window looked out over. Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

She pulled her head back in the window and realized the sound was actually louder in her room than when she had her head out the window.

She spent the next few mome
nts checking over her room until she realized the sound was louder on the right side of the room than on the left. It took another moment before she placed her ear to the wall and finally realized what the sound was. “Enton!” she bellowed as the realization dawned.

She marched out into the hall and stomped to Enton and Flare’s door. She didn’t even bother knocking, just turned the handle and opened the door. Flare was nowhere to be seen, but Enton was lying on his back, his mouth wide open, and he was making the most Gods-awful noise Heather had ever heard.

She slammed the door behind her and kicked the side of his bed.

Enton sat bolt upright and looked around. After a moment, he raised his hand to his head and said, “Oh, my head hurts.”

“Serves you right,” Heather said, “you shouldn’t drink so much.” She resisted the urge to rub her own head, and she most definitely neglected to mention that she too had drunk a bit too much the night before herself.

“What do you care?” Enton asked. He looked a bit confused at her angry demeanor.

Just like that, all the fight went out of her. She sat down wearily on the side of Enton’s bed. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “I don’t feel so good myself.”

Enton didn’t say anything in return, he just smiled up at her.

Caught off-guard and surprising herself, Heather leaned down and kissed Enton. He didn’t pull away or resist, but his manner betrayed his confusion.

They kissed for several moments
, and then she pushed him, firmly but not roughly. He slid back from the edge of the bed and she lay down beside him.

Mikela was watching when the mage and the fighter moved out of hiding and crossed the street toward the inn. She wasn’t sure what they were planning, but she knew she needed Flare here quick.

She turned around and looked back into the alley. It took her a bit to locate the imp; he had fallen asleep in the shadows of a large rubbish pile.

Mikela checked to make sure the two men couldn’t see her, and then she stood and crossed over to where the imp lay. She nudged it awake with her foot, and the beast bolted upright.

“What? Why do you kick Ziteul?”

“My apologies,” Mikela said quickly, “but I need you to find Flare. Find him and bring him back here as fast as you can.”

“Why should I?” the imp demanded
, and once again Mikela was reminded of a child.

“Because your master wants you to,” Mikela said, trying to remain calm. She didn’t have time for this, but she needed the imp’s help.

“Master didn’t say that I had to obey you,” Ziteul said, a crafty gleam in his eyes.

Mikela smiled and leaned close,
but Ziteul scampered back out of her reach. “He told me to watch you and report how well you behaved,” she said. “He told me that if you caused trouble, then he would make you deeply regret it.”

Ziteul watched her through narrowed eyes. “And what do you plan to tell the master?”

“That depends on how well you follow my instructions,” Mikela said.

Fantin and Kaleb entered the inn’s main entrance. Both men had their hoods pulled up just in case they ran into either of the two remaining Guardians. They stepped into a small foyer and glanced around. A small and empty desk was to their left, and the common room was off to the right. Stairs that led up were directly in front of them. It was still early, but breakfast was already being served and the common room was half-full.

Fantin moved over and glanced in
to the common room; it only took him a moment to see that their quarry was not in there. He retreated just as a maid emerged from a door under the stairs. She was carrying a broom and appeared headed for the front walkway.

Smiling, Fantin moved closer and said, “Excuse me.” The maid returned the smile
, and moved even closer. He slipped a knife up against the woman’s side and held it there. The woman’s eyes went wide, and she opened her mouth to scream.

“None of that!” Fantin said into the maid’s ear. “If you make a noise, then it will be the last sound you ever make.” The maid’s eyes were still wide in surprise and fear, but she clamped her mouth shut.

“Excellent,” Fantin said. “I want you to answer a few questions for me and then we’ll let you go free.” The maid opened her mouth to speak, but Fantin poked her with the knife. “Just nod.” She nodded. “Is there an elf staying here?” The maid nodded again. “Good. Now lead us to his room.”

Enstorion was lying on his bed reading a book. He had only brought three magic books with him and he knew the spells intimately now. He regretted not having any more books, and it angered him that Derek refused to allow him to wander the streets of Elem. He was quite sure that if allowed, he could find enough magical stores and shops to entertain him.

He sighed and lowered the book; his mind really wasn’t into it anyway. He was tired of this inn and tired of this mission. He wanted nothing more than to find a nice
, quiet place to practice his magic. He had a thirst for magic — to him it was the only thing that mattered.

His thoughts wandered around to Flare and worry settled around him. The fool had gone and gotten involved with Kelcer. Kelcer! The
church wouldn’t stop now until Flare’s head adorned a pike on the walls of the golden temple. Of more importance to Enstorion, though, was the fact that the church would view all those who knew Flare as being guilty as well. He knew that he had seen the last of Telur. Any of the Guardians who knew Flare would be smart to avoid the city and kingdom. Personally, he couldn’t wait to get out of Elem and head south. He wasn’t sure how far he would have to go to get away from the church, but it didn’t matter; he would go as far as necessary.

His thoughts turned to the potion he had been making for Kara and Keenan and he chuckled. The mirth soon passed
, and thoughts of Ocklamoor came unbidden to him. He couldn’t understand why the fools were trying to get the damn shield anyway. If it really was Kelcer, then the smartest thing they could do would be to get as far from Telur as possible.

Could Flare really be the one prophesied about?
It seemed doubtful, but there were quite a few things unsettling about the half-elf. He dismissed thoughts about Flare from his mind.
The church is more than capable of handling one poorly trained half-elf.

He was still lost in thought when there came a soft tapping at his door. He sat up and swung his feet over onto the floor. “Yes?” he called out.

“Sir, it’s Arina. May I check the room?”

Enstorion frowned at the interruption and glanced to the window. The sun was barely up,
so why would the maid be here at this hour?

He crossed
the room and opened the door. He was about to say that his room didn’t need anything, but he never got the words out. As soon as he opened the door, he noticed the maid being held tightly by a man; a man that he recognized from Mul-Dune. It was one of the very men that had captured them and imprisoned them in the underground remains of Dahl-Rucka. He tried to step back into the room, tried to give himself more time to cast a spell, but he was too slow. The second man in the hall was ready for him. The second man was also a mage, and he had started his spell long before the door opened.

Something warm and sticky slammed hard into Enstorion and he stumbled back. The gooey substance covered his upper body
, and he frantically tried to wipe the mess from his eyes, but he couldn’t. The goo was also on his arms, and he found he couldn’t raise them, and then the real panic set in. He couldn’t see, he couldn’t speak, and he was having trouble breathing. He would have screamed, shouted for help, but the mess filled his mouth.

“Stop struggling!”
one of the two men said quietly. “If you stop moving you’ll be fine, but if you struggle the Mahlina will kill you.”

Enstorion stopped moving and concentrated on breathing. It was difficult
, as the goo was all around his nose, but he managed to get just enough air to stay alive.

“See?
” the man said again.

Enstorion didn’t respond
— he couldn’t respond — all he could do was think. He had recognized the darker of the two men from Mul-Dune, and now he thought hard about the second man. He struggled hard, trying to remember if he had seen the man at Mul-Dune as well. It was difficult to remember; he had spent a good deal of the siege in a bed, hovering between life and death. It was possible the mage had been there, but he couldn’t be sure; not that it really mattered at the moment.

“Now,” a different man’s voice said, “which rooms belong to his friends?”

There was an accent to the voice, and Enstorion was fairly sure it was the darker man, the one with the sword. He couldn’t be sure of this either, though, as his eyes were full of goo. Confused, Enstorion tried to turn his head toward the speaker. How could they possibly expect him to answer any questions? A moment later, the answer became apparent; the question wasn’t directed at him.

“The two men are in the next room,” the maid Arina said quietly.

“And the woman?”

“Down the hall, just past the stairs on the left.”

Enstorion would have sighed if he had been able. The men were smart. They grabbed one of the maids and forced her to lead them to his room, and now they knew where Trestus and Derek were.

“Thank you,” the fighter’s voice said quietly. There was a sudden movement
, and  Enstorion felt the stirring of the air. It was followed by a gasp and the thump as the maid’s body fell to the floor.

Damn!
he thought. Derek and Trestus were his only hope for getting out of this trap, and he would have gladly shouted to warn them, but he couldn’t. His mouth was full of the goo, and it forced his mouth to remain open. What was it the mage had called it? Mahlina?
Ah,
he thought,
I wonder if it’s similar to Maullen?
He was sure that he had never heard of anything called Mahlina before, but Maullen was the product of a magic spell that was used to restrain captives. He had cast the Maullen spell before and the affects were different, but they were similar in many aspects. He breathed a bit easier now, at least sure that the two men were not going to kill him in his own room. Then again, he would rather die here then go back to the torture room in Dahl-Rucka. If his captors got him there, then his death would be long, drawn-out, and painful.

The mage put his hand on Enstorion’s shoulder and said, “It’s time for us to leave. If you struggle
, the Mahlina will kill you, but if you obey my voice, you’ll live.”

Enstorion would have snorted if he could. It was probably true that he would live long enough to get out of the city, but obeying these men would only delay his death. He clung to the hope that either Derek or Trestus would free him. If they were caught
, then he just might struggle as hard as he could and let the Mahlina finish him. He would rather choke to death in the streets of Elem than be Zalustus’s prisoner.

Mikela nervously shifted her weight from one foot to the other, trying to decide what to do. The imp had been gone for maybe a quarter of an hour, way too short a time to reach Flare and the two of them make it back. She was beginning to worry that she shouldn’t wait. Zalustus’s lieutenants could be done with whatever it was they were doing long before Flare made it back.

Realizing that she had to discover what was going on, Mikela pulled her hood up to conceal her face and walked out into the street. She turned left and walked along the front of the inn.

It wasn’t raining today, but it was still early in the morning, and there was a bit of fog about, so her hood wasn’t that out of place. Although the hood hid her face, it also prevented her from seeing the sides of the street, and she fought hard to keep from constantly looking around. She knew the fighter and the magician had entered the inn’s front door, but the other one — the kid — had run off. She said a silent prayer that he wouldn’t choose now to return.