Ossendar: Book Two of the Resoration Series Read online

  “Cecil, I hate to interrupt you,” the grandfatherly Arch-Bishop who had led Kara into the room began, “but I'm sure that Priestess Elba would appreciate knowing why we have summoned her here tonight.”

  The fat Arch-Bishop, who was apparently Cecil, blinked and looked around. “Oh, of course. You are right, Simon.”

  “Priestess Elba,” an Arch-Bishop to the left of Cecil began, “We have a directive for you.”

  “A directive?” Kara repeated. As she spoke she glanced at the Arch-Bishop that had just spoken. He was middle-aged man with hard and cold features. His hair was black, except for his sideburns, which were starting to go grey. His nose reminded Kara more of a beak than a nose, and she couldn't help thinking that the man's face wasn't suited to smiling.

  “Yes, a directive.” He answered gruffly. “Although you are a member of the guardians and are therefore somewhat removed from our control, you still must follow the orders of the church.”

  Anger welled up within Kara at the man's harsh words. “I have never refused to follow the orders of the church.” She shot back. “I am a loyal follower of the church of Adel.”

  “Good.” The gruff Arch-Bishop said, “Then you won't have a problem keeping watch over Flaranthlas Eldanari for us.” He pronounced Flare's name in such a way that it almost seemed a curse.

  It took several moments for the words to sink in. “Watch over him?” She repeated slowly, a nervous feeling settling into her stomach. “What do you mean?”

  It was the grandfatherly Arch-Bishop, the one that Cecil had called Simon who answered, “You know of the Kelcer prophecy?” It was more a statement than a question, as all priests and priestesses of the church were taught about the Kelcer prophecy. They were also taught to keep a watch for any warriors who had suspicious talents. At Kara's nod, the Arch-Bishop continued speaking, “There are some who think that he is the one prophesied about, especially now that he has been adopted by King Darion.” He grimaced at his own words, “A foolish move that was. It only added to the paranoia of some.”

  “But, I know Flare and he's a good man. He's not evil.” Kara said quickly, when Arch-Bishop Simon paused.

  Simon glanced back at Kara, “Oh, don't worry young lady. We do not think that Flaranthlas Eldanari is the one that Kelcer was talking about. Many parts of the Kelcer prophecy are confusing and hard to decipher. However, one part is quiet clear. The person who will try to restore the Dragon Order will be born under the sign of the Prince, and it is quite well known that Flaranthlas was born under the sign of the Tree.” He paused momentarily and glanced down the row of Arch-Bishops, “However, some are worried because of the apparent closeness of the half-elf's life and the events mentioned in the prophecy.” He motioned to the other four Arch-Bishops, “We agreed to order you to watch him and report to us simply to placate the fears of others.” He smiled at her as if that explained everything.

  “But, isn't it treasonous to spy on a prince of the realm?” Kara asked, all the while hating what the men were asking her to do.

  Simon laughed and leaned back in his chair. “We're not asking you to spy on him, just keep track of what he's doing.”

  Sounded like spying to her, and she opened her mouth to say so, when the gruff arch-bishop interrupted her.

  He slammed his hand down on the table, which made Kara jump. “You will do as you are told, without questioning your superiors.” Kara kept her mouth shut, though she did glare hatefully at the old man. “Leave us now. You will be contacted when we wish to hear your report.” The mean old man leaned forward, “And don't disappoint us.”

  Chapter 3

  The cloaked man walked through the streets of Telur without much fear of a cutpurse. Instead his fear lay in being recognized, as there were far worse things than having your throat cut. His hood was pulled up and his face was buried deep within the shadows. It made it harder to see where he was going, but the anonymity was worth it.

  He stumbled on the hard packed dirt of the street and stifled a curse. There were too many people about, and besides he was well known for his cursing. If he started cursing now, he might as well throw back his hood and avoid stumbling.

  Coarse language and a woman's answering giggle made him pause. But it was nothing, just a whore and her man of the hour. He stood there for a moment waiting for his heart to calm down and listened to the people entering and leaving the taverns and inns that lined the street. This was far from the best part of town, but he liked it better than the more affluent locations. This section of Telur always seemed to be alive; here the people indulged their vices.

  Finally the man moved forward again, heading toward a quieter part of the street. Here the taverns were not as busy and the inns seemed deserted.

  He turned down a side street and walked between two small inns. He barely glanced at the names on the signs that swung over the front doors. On his right was the Demon's Dagger, which was an absolutely stupid name. Why would a demon need a dagger? The other sign was little better, it showed three unrecognizable figures sitting around a small fire with the words The Goblin's Den beneath the drawing.

  Shaking his head, the man moved past the two inns and approached a doorway. The doorway opened into an old empty warehouse. He paused just inside the door, letting his eyes adjust to the light and listening for any sounds that shouldn't be there. The warehouse was old and the cracks and chips betrayed the age of the brick walls. The dust seemed to fill the entire room and he fought back the urge to sneeze.

  Hearing nothing, he moved forward toward the back right side of the warehouse, the floorboards creaking as he walked. Here the shadows were the darkest, but still nothing moved. In the very back of the corner he found the stairway that he knew was there. It was an old metal stairwell that spiraled up to the second floor. He climbed the stairs quickly but quietly, trying not to make the metal ring with each footstep.

  Reaching the second floor, he moved away from the stairs. He grimaced at the sound his feet made on the floorboards. The boards didn't get much use and they were creaking with every step. This floor was also mostly empty, but a doorway lay just to his right. A glow outlined the door; he stepped up and knocked softly twice.

  “Enter,” a muffled voice called out.

  He turned the handle of the door and pushed it open without so much as a creak. The room beyond was dimly lit by four or five candles that were spread out along the walls of the small room. Five chairs were positioned in a semi-circle. Four of the chairs were already filled, and the man sighed, realizing that he was last again. He bowed and moved to fill the last empty seat.

  “What have you learned?” A voice asked quickly, not even waiting for him to sit down.

  He paused halfway down, surprised at the urgency in the voice. This secret order had existed for almost two thousand years and patience was one of the order's cornerstones. He lowered himself on down before he answered. “Quite a bit, actually.”

  “Well, are you going to tell us or should we guess?”

  The man frowned; the questioner seemed excited or perhaps angry. Either way it didn't seem to fit. “The boy is learning magic and sorcery.”

  Several gasps betrayed the surprise that this statement caused, but a woman answered in a calm voice. “We knew that he was learning magic, but are you sure about the sorcery?”

  “Yes,” the man answered quickly, “but how did you know about him learning magic?”

  “It's not important.” The questioner's voice snapped. “What is important is that you assured us he was not the one prophesied about. How can this be? How can we have been so wrong?”

  “I don't think we were wrong. One of the few things we believe absolutely and without question is that the one of prophecy will be born under the sign of the prince. Flaranthlas was not, he was born under the sign of the tree. Therefore he can not be the subject of the Kelcer prophecy.” The man said, leaning back in his chair.

  “Well how can that be?” The questioner asked. “How can he not be the
one if he is doing these things?”

  “I have been thinking a lot about that,” the man answered, “and I think that Flaranthlas may be a precursor to the one prophesied about.”

  “A what?”

  “A precursor, uh in this case a person that fits many parts of the prophecy but is not the one prophesied about. I think that Flaranthlas may be preparing the world for the appearance of the one who will restore the Dragon Order.” The man paused, but none of the others said anything, so he continued, “In fact, I think that we might see several precursors prior to the child of prophecy's appearing.”

  Silence greeted his words as the others contemplated this news. “Several others?” Some one finally managed, “You mean several more like him that are learning magic and sorcery?”

  “Well, yes.” The man frowned at the other person's words. Was that fear in his voice? This was, after all, what they had worked so hard for.

  “Thank you,” The questioner's voice said, although there wasn't much thanks in the tone. “You have given us something to think about.” A brief pause, “Keep an eye on the boy.”

  It took all his effort not to snort. Keep an eye on the boy? Of course he would keep an eye on him.

  Aaron, Atock, and Enton spent their evenings over the next week looking for Elona, but the girl was nowhere to be found. But then again, Telur was an enormous city and it would take three men longer than a week to thoroughly search all the taverns and inns, and that was assuming that the girl stayed in one place. For all they knew, she could be moving around and she might be hitting places they had already visited.

  Throughout the whole ordeal Aaron was embarrassed and guilty. His whole squad had helped him buy the girl's freedom, and now he had lost her. This reason above all others was what prevented him from allowing Atock to bring in other members of the guardians to help search. So far, Atock and Enton had honored his wishes.

  For their parts, Atock and Enton had continued to search diligently, but the enthusiasm had disappeared quickly when the enormity of the task had settled on them. They spent each evening sticking their heads into the taverns and inns, and asking after the girl. When what they really wanted to do, was to stay at one of those taverns and drink some ale, toss dice, and maybe throw some darts.

  Atock had stopped at a tavern in the western part of the city, near the city gate. The tavern was called the Headman's Noose, and it was a small tavern, but it was in a good spot and saw a lot of traffic from the merchants and their guards. He stood in the doorway and observed the raucous crowd. It was still early evening, but the seats were all taken and most of the standing room as well. The serving girls were hard pressed to keep all the men's drinks filled, but they gave it a good go. Two musicians played on a small stage that was along the opposite wall. One was playing the flute, while the other picked at a stringed instrument that he didn't recognize. A bar ran along the wall to his left, and it too was crowded as men stood waiting to get their drinks.

  Sighing, Atock stepped inside. He knew better than to ask the men if they had seen Elona. They were too busy drinking and they could probably have her sitting on their laps and not recognize her from his description. The serving girls were another matter altogether. They were sober, and would remember a young girl who was playing the men. The trouble seemed to be in catching one of the serving girls long enough to talk to her.

  He made several unsuccessful attempts to get the serving girls in conversation, and not only did that fail, but he was starting to get nasty looks from some of the patrons. The last thing that he wanted was to get in a bar fight with this lot. They probably all knew each other and worked for the same person.

  A large man with a nose that had been broken more than once walked up beside Atock. “Something you want?”

  The man had the unmistakable appearance of a guard; rough and more than capable of taking care of himself. Hope sprang up in Atock at the sight of the man. A guard might be even better than one of the serving girls. He would remember the girl just like they would, but more importantly, his whole job was to stand there and watch the crowd. “Uh, maybe. I'm looking for a girl.”

  The man snickered, “Aren't we all, but the girls here are only paid to serve drinks and nothing else.”

  “No, no. You misunderstand me.” Atock said quickly, “I'm trying to find a particular girl. She's seventeen with brown hair to her waist and brown eyes. She answered to the name of Elona.”

  The guard looked him up and down, “What's it to you? She stole something from you?”

  “No,” Atock said, shaking his head, “I'm trying to help a friend who needs to find her.”

  The man paused considering, “I know the girl. She was in here several nights back, almost started a brawl, playing the men against each other like she did. I threw her and several of the men out into the streets.” He smiled, “She wasn't too happy with me after that, either. That one has a mouth on her.”

  “Any idea where she went,” he asked quickly. He wanted to find the girl and be done with this searching.

  The guard nodded, “Yeah. I heard her tell some of the men that she liked to hang out at a tavern called the Drunken Dwarf. It's on the northern side of town near the center of the flower road.”

  Atock knew where the flower road was. It was a wide stone road that took its name from the enormous planters lining the street. Each of the planters had beautiful plants that kept the street decorated in pretty, sweet smelling flowers.

  Atock tossed the man a silver scepter and headed out into the street. For the first time in days, he had hopes that they could find the girl and be done with this business. He felt sorry for Aaron, the boy had tried to do something good and it had bitten him. It wasn't the boy's fault; it was that minx of a girl's fault.

  The sign over the inn read the Drunken Dwarf. Aaron yawned and looked back up at the sign and shook his head, how many more of these places did they have to search? The others hadn't said anything, but he was sure they were ready to be done looking for the girl. He was ashamed to think that he also agreed. The only thing that kept him going was the thought that he had saved the girl, so that kind of made him responsible for her. He balled his fist up and then relaxed it, if he ever caught that girl; he planned to beat her half to death. Sighing, he walked in to the inn.

  Inside the door, he paused and looked around. The inn had rooms to rent upstairs, and the common room took up most of the first floor. The kitchen also was on the first floor to the back of the building. It was a common setup and he had seen it plenty over the last week. The common room was full of rough looking men, some of them were farmers and cattle drivers, but the majority were merchant guards. Several games of dice were being played in the corners, a couple of men were leaving via a back door, and a half-naked girl sang while she danced on a table. His eyes lingered on the singing girl. She was young and cute, but she had dead lifeless eyes. As he watched, a man reached up and groped the girl and she didn't even seem to notice. Shuddering, he turned away from the sight.

  Calling a serving girl over, he asked after Elona, briefly describing her. The girl's eyes widened.

  “Yeah. I seen her, give me a gold crown, and I'll tell you where.”

  Aaron's eyes narrowed and he fought the urge to slap the girl. “A silver scepter is all I will give.” He responded and the girl jumped quickly at his offer. Grudgingly, he pulled the silver coin out, knowing that he had overpaid for the information.

  “She just left out the back door with a couple of customers.” She looked at him sideways, “I guess you know what I mean by customers?”

  Aaron's face hardened at the serving girl's comments. What was the girl up to? He turned and walked quickly through the common room and through the back door.

  The doorway led into the kitchens, where a cook was busy preparing food. Well, perhaps busy was an overstatement. The cook was cutting roast beef to place on a plate, but there wasn't much else happening. It seemed the majority of the patrons tonight were more interested
in drinking than eating. The cook barely glanced up as Aaron entered the kitchens and headed across the room toward the doorway on the opposite wall.

  The door stood propped open, to help vent the heat from the cook fires. Aaron stepped into a back alley way that ran behind the inn. He stopped and glanced left then right. A sound coming from somewhere to his left caught his attention. He looked down the alleyway into the darkening shadows, but he saw nothing. Cautiously, he moved deeper into the alley.

  He hadn't gone far, when the sound of a door slamming made him spin around. The door into the kitchens had been slammed shut, and three people stood in the alley between him and the flower road.

  The brown haired man standing on the left side of the alley had the appearance of a sword for hire, perhaps a merchant guard but Aaron didn't think so. The man looked like he knew how to use his sword and his cold eyes never left Aaron. A long two handed sword rested with the tip on the ground and the hilt against the man's belt. He wore a bulky grey cloak that Aaron guessed was covering armor. He had never seen the man before, but the other two people in the alley he recognized quite clearly.

  Elona stood on Aaron's right near the kitchen door. A man had a vice like grip on her arm, and her scared eyes darted back and forth looking for an escape. It took a moment, but Aaron recognized the man who was holding her arm.

  “Dale Stonewood,” he spat the name as if cursing. “What are doing with Elona? She's a free woman now.”

  Stonewood smiled at Aaron, “Yes she is, thanks to you, but you know that as a free woman she came asking me for work.” His smile got even nastier. “Seems she missed the trade. I guess you were unable to satisfy her.”

  Aaron felt the anger swelling in his stomach. “Is that true?” He asked Elona, “Did you return to him? Did you ask to go back to the same exact thing that you escaped from?”