The Guardians: Book One of the Restoration Series (11 page)

Over time, Flare felt like he began to earn the Sergeant’s respect. He was sure that the sergeant expected him to be a spoiled prince needing coddling. But Flare did everything asked of him without complaining. Wellmann asked the impossible from him, probably expecting him to argue. Wellmann seemed pleasantly surprised when Flare attempted to do everything he was told to, even the things that were impossible. He was still demanding, but he was friendlier at dinner time, and around the fire at night, although he was still quiet and Flare began to think that was just part of his nature.

After another hard day of training, Flare had used his bow and arrows to bring down a couple of rabbits. They were waiting on the rabbits to finish cooking.
“Sergeant.
Why were the guardians formed?” He had heard this story before, but when he had heard it the story teller had been elven, and he was curious to know if the human version differed.

“There is a long story that answers that question. The guardians were formed about two thousand years ago, shortly after the Demon lord wars.” Flare had found it was fairly easy to get Wellmann to discuss history.

“By that time, the Dragon Order had been shrunk to only a few members. I believe that your ancestor, King Osturlius, was one of them. Anyway, there was a rift among the remaining members and several of them were exiled. They left the Dragon order and traveled south, joining the forces of the evil King Bal-zaniake.”

“King Bal-zaniake? I’ve heard the name, but where is he from?” Flare asked, interrupting. Wellmann normally did not like being interrupted, but asking questions was acceptable. He had heard the name Bal-zaniake, but only in hushed tones, as if it was a curse or something.

“King Bal-zaniake was the ruler of the
kingdom
of
Golteranth
.” Wellmann motioned to Flare, “You may have heard it called Gol or Golt,
all
three names are the same kingdom. The kingdom was in a heavily forested area south of the
Silver
Mountains
. There was a well developed civilization, but they were a cruel people. The civilization was destroyed at the end of the Demon lord wars, and the people hunted mercilessly.”

Wellmann continued, “Anyway, the armies of Bal-zaniake swept northward with surprising speed, conquering and destroying city after city. The exiled Dragon Order members used their wizardry to summon powerful demons, which were almost unstoppable by conventional means. The Dragon Order organized and united the various races to fight Bal-zaniake’s forces. They also summoned and controlled demons and a great battle was fought on the plains of Delteck, just south of
Victory
Lake
. Osturlius led the combined human armies of Telur, Dalar, Ontarin, and Molindor, and a host of other smaller kingdoms.” Wellmann seemed lost in the story. “The elvish and dwarven armies also fought beside them. The battle was horrendous. So bad was the battle, it is said that the plains were ankle deep in blood and gore. When the battle was over, the forces of good were triumphant, and the forces of Bal-zaniake were either dead or scattered. All of the members of the Dragon Order,
both current
and exiled, perished in the battle, with the exception of your forebear. After their death, King Osturlius was the only remaining member of the Dragon Order.” He paused again, “After the war, King Osturlius helped rebuild the human cities, and it was his idea to establish the guardians. The guardians were to guard against kings like Bal-zaniake, and the guardians were not supposed to be controlled by one kingdom. They were supposed to be controlled by the kingdoms and cities acting in cooperation, but since that time, Telur has gained control, and they have become the elite part of Telur’s army.”

The story that Wellmann had just told agreed with what Flare had heard, but the elves' version did not have all of the details.
 
“How did Telur come to control the guardians?” He asked.

“Well after the Demon lord wars, most of the kingdoms and cities were rebuilding both their cities and their armies. Telur was one of the least damaged by the war, and therefore it quickly became one of the more powerful kingdoms. When King Osturlius died, the elves and dwarves withdrew to their kingdoms and fortresses, and left the humans to handle their own affairs. The Telurian royalty quickly seized control of the guardians, as well as land and provinces that had been formerly controlled by the other human cities.”

Wellmann took the first rabbit off of the fire and gingerly handed it to Flare. Flare took it and bounced it from hand to hand so as not to burn
himself
. Wellmann took the second rabbit for himself.

Wellmann took a bite, as smoke floated up from the steaming hot rabbit, then between bites he said, “Now Flare, I have a question for you. How did King Osturlius die?”

Flare paused briefly; he was not sure how much he should tell. The story was not a secret, but it was considered embarrassing. “I do not know. According to legend, King Osturlius died while traveling in foreign lands.” He shrugged, a little uncomfortable with the story, “An elven priest was in the temple late one night, praying and meditating. He was interrupted by a statue that came alive and spoke to him. The gods were mad at the elves, and cursed them. The statue said that the elven king had done something that was so despicable that all elves would be punished.” Flare paused, having forgotten his dinner of rapidly cooling rabbit. “Since then, elven life spans have shrunk dramatically, and fewer and fewer elves are born each generation. The power of the elves has declined ever since.”

Wellmann was quiet for several moments. “I had never heard that story. I’ve heard rumors, but never from anybody as close as you. That was a bad period for all races.”

They sat there for several moments, each absorbed in
his own
thoughts. Flare was thinking of the elven city of
Solistine
, and wondering if he would ever be allowed there again. And as always, every time he thought of his mother, he experienced a dull ache in his stomach.

After several moments, Wellmann stirred and spoke. “Prince Flaranthlas, tell me why you have decided to risk your life to protect humans? You’re a prince, and you lived in luxury. Why would you leave that?”

For the first time since arriving in Telur, Flare laughed. The laugh was a good one, coming from the belly. Finally the laughter subsided. Wellmann had sat watching Flare with an amused grin on his face.

“My apologies, Sergeant, but my time in Solistine was anything but luxurious. I was an outcast, and I was reminded of that daily. My mother loved me and she showed it. I believe that my grandfather loved me, and he always treated me with respect and kindness. My uncle and cousin had both threatened me and I believed them. And I had heard the stories about how elves serve and
are
accepted in the guardians. So I had hoped to find a place where I would be welcomed.” The smile on Flare's face slipped a little.

Wellmann nodded, “Elves are accepted in the guardians, but you’re not the normal elf. I expect that you will not find it easy to be accepted anywhere.” Flare’s face fell, but Wellmann continued talking. “Listen to me, Flare. The people that are willing to accept you, will judge you according to your deeds. However, the people that are not willing to accept
you,
will never accept you no matter what you do. You just need to be a good judge of character and learn who to trust and who not to trust.”

They both fell silent after the sergeant’s words. Flare was once again wondering if he had made the right decision. He was still wondering when he fell asleep.

The next morning, Wellmann roused Flare at dawn for the morning training session. Flare’s skill with the sword had improved dramatically under the expert tutelage of Wellmann, but he still had never beaten the older man in a dueling session.

The training session was almost over, with neither man having established dominance, when Wellmann slipped slightly in the loose gravel. Wellmann was off balance and in an awkward position, so he did what came naturally. He slashed at Flare’s legs, attempting to distract Flare while he regained his balance. Flare was slightly too quick for him, and he too did what was instinctive. He rammed his sword down on Wellmann’s blade. Wellmann’s blade snapped just below the hilt, he dropped the sword and landed on his side.

“Yield, Sergeant. I won! I’ve finally beaten you!” Flare roared triumphantly.

He was rewarded with a handful of dirt thrown in his face, and having his legs jerked out from under him. He landed on his back, and felt the wind knocked out of him. After wiping the dirt from his eyes, he looked up to find the tip of his own sword resting against his neck.

“Now, you can yield, because I’ve beaten you.” The sergeant said, grinning.

“But ... you cheated,” was all Flare could manage to say.

“Cheated? What do you think this is boy? If this had been a real fight, you would be dead, I would be alive, and that is all that matters. There is only one rule when it comes to fighting, and that is
win
. You had better lose any foolish ideas you have about fighting being noble. It doesn’t matter who your opponent is, your objective is to kill them. Remember that, and get it into your head right now.” The sergeant removed the sword from Flare’s throat, and helped him off the ground. “Do you understand that I’m trying to help you survive?”

“Yes sir,” Flare said weakly.

“Good. Let me get a new sword, and we’ll try it again.”

It was a somewhat dejected Flare that resumed his fighting stance.

Chapter 6

They returned to the outskirts of Telur the day before the competition. The competition was scheduled to take place on the field outside the eastern wall. Temporary barracks had been set up for the students and instructors. Flare was given an entire tent to himself, and he was nervous and agitated, awaiting the competition to begin.

Sergeant Wellmann had improved his proficiency with the sword, and had increased Flare’s knowledge of human history. Flare also believed himself to be in the best physical condition of his life. He was more prepared now then he had ever been. But would it be enough? His stomach ached with the anticipation.

Flare’s mixed race heritage gave him both advantages and disadvantages. Elven senses were sharper than humans. Strength-wise, there were few advantages to being elvish. Typically, elves were taller than humans, but also weaker. But elves were usually quicker and faster.

His quickness should help him in the competition, but he was still not as strong as most of the humans he would be competing against. The confidence he felt when he had fled Solistine was quickly turning to dread at the thought of having to return in disgrace.

He spent the evening before the competition trying to rest. The first several days would be the physical part of the competition, in which strength, quickness, and stamina would be tested. The middle stage would consist of testing the student’s familiarization with the more common weapons, such as the sword, and bow. The last stage tested the student’s knowledge of history and military tactics. The last stage was also meant to test the character of the student. Only students who passed all three stages of the competition would be admitted into the guardians.

Flare was exceedingly anxious the night before the competition. It was way past midnight when he finally managed to drop off to sleep.

Flare was already awake and waiting when his escort arrived the next morning. He had been standing outside the tent, since before the sun had come up, anxiously waiting to get started. The cool morning air gave him chills, as he stared out over the field.

“Flare, how did you sleep?” A voice asked pleasantly.

Flare turned and was pleasantly surprised to see Sergeant Wellmann. “Not so well, all I could think about was the competition. I didn’t fall asleep until after midnight.”

The sergeant nodded with a friendly smile on his face. “I remember when I tried to join the guardians, don’t think I slept any the entire night before.”
 

“I didn’t know that you tried to join the guardians, Sergeant. If you don’t mind, why didn't you make it? I mean you’re an excellent swordsman, and you appear to be physically fit. You seem like the perfect soldier.”

The sergeant motioned for them to walk toward the competition field, “I failed because I was not fast enough. I was removed during the first stage.” His words were matter of fact, but they had a touch of emotion to them.

Flare was astounded, “But that’s absurd. I mean you fight well, you’re intelligent ...”

“But Flare, only a fighter who can pass all three stages is considered worthy. I simply couldn’t make it.” He paused, shrugging his shoulders, the echoes of those distant days playing across his face. “But, after I failed to make it into the guardians, I joined the regular army, and I rose through the ranks. I had a distinguished military career, until a few years ago when I received a minor leg injury in a battle with a goblin raiding party. It was nothing serious, but it kept me from remaining with my unit.” He patted his right leg as he spoke, “After that happened, I was allowed to instruct the recruits. And I have remained here as an instructor ever since.” He grimaced a little, “I don't enjoy teaching as much as I enjoyed the army.”