The Guardians: Book One of the Restoration Series (4 page)

“I know.” Flare said awkwardly, hugging his mother. Her tears lessened after a moment. “I’ll be careful, and I promise I’ll come back. I just don't know when.”

Hugging him, she spoke quietly into his shoulder, “Flare, I have to tell you something. I have lied to you about some things.” She paused, sighing deeply, “I never meant to keep things from you, but I felt it was necessary to keep both of us safe. And to be honest, I didn't think it would matter.”

Flare was confused, “What things?” He started to ask, but his mother cut him off.

“Shh! Just listen. I did what I did because there are people who would harm you if they knew.” Still hugging him, her voice dropped so low that even he had a hard time hearing it, “I lied to you about when you were born.”

Flare's forehead wrinkled in confusion. Of all the things that he had thought his mother might say, this was not one of them.

“My handmaiden and I were the only two that knew the truth.”

His thoughts raced and he seemed almost dizzy. He remembered his mother's handmaiden, Elanora, but she had died in an accident when he was still a child. “I don't understand.”

The princess continued as if she hadn't heard him, “I left the city and bore you at one of the King's private hunting lodges. I was there in seclusion for four months, with elven guards staying a fair distance away in the forest. The nobles here at the court were glad to see me leave, as they didn't like the reminder of my situation.”

Flare was too overwhelmed to get angry about the nobles. He knew full well what her situation had been; she had been pregnant with him.

The princess whispered again, “You were born in the middle of spring, but Elanora and I kept it secret until the first week of summer.”

“But why?”

His mother still held him close, as if she were afraid of being overheard. “It's nothing really, just an old superstitious story about a half-elven heir that supposed to do some really horrible things. The stories mention that the half-elf would be born under the sign of the prince. It wasn't much, but it would have been enough for some of the elven nobles to plot against you, so I lied.”

“Plot against me!
I don't understand, you mean they would have tried to kill me?” Flare asked, not sure that he wanted to hear the answer.

“I don't know, but I knew that I was not willing to risk it, so I lied about when you were born. You were not born in the second week of the tree; you were born in the third week of the prince.”

Each of the four seasons had a sign associated with it. Summer was associated with divinity, and spring was associated with a king or kingship. Fall was the knight and winter was associated with arcane people and things. Each sign was further divided into three sub-signs that were related to the major sign. Each of these three sub-signs
were
associated with a month which took one third of the season. Summer was divinity, and was divided into the tree, which was for the elven goddess Silverti, the farmer, which was for the human god Adel, and the shadow, which was for Thal the god of the goblins and trolls. Until now, Flare had always believed that he had been born under the sign of the tree in early summer. Spring, or the king, was divided into the queen, the prince, and the scepter.

“The prince?”
Flare asked disbelievingly, it seemed such an insignificant thing to keep from him.
Question after question raced through his mind, but they seemed to trip over each other before he could voice them.
He did manage to get one out, “Well, why tell me now?”

“I had to tell you, it seemed such a small thing to keep from you.” She said quietly, and then more forcefully she added, “Tell no one. Humans are even more superstitious than the elves. Do not let them know that you were born under the sign of the prince.”

Her voice bore such
a fierceness
, that Flare quickly mumbled his promise to tell no one.

After a few minutes, Princess Aliston disengaged herself. She then wiped her eyes and said, “You should be going Flaranthlas, you don’t want to be late.”

Flare climbed into the saddle, and looked down at his mother; she seemed to be on the verge of saying something else. But he wasn't sure that he wanted to hear anymore. “Good-bye, Mother.” He then turned and rode out of the gate, without looking back once. He was in somewhat of a daze as he rode, how can you keep a secret like that for so long?

When Flare arrived at the main city gate, it didn't surprise him to find out that his escort was Lenturin. Lenturin was one of Prince Yolstice’s private guards, and was slightly shorter than most elves. His hair reached just slightly below his shoulders, and he was wearing green hunting clothes. He had his sword strapped to his back. Since his uncle seemed to have deduced Flare’s plan, he expected his escort to try to stop him. “Lenturin, are you ready for some hunting?” Flare asked, guiding his horse up next to his
escort's
, pausing long enough for one more brief glimpse of the city of
Solistine
.

“Of course, Flaranthlas.”
He said politely, smiling the whole time.

Flare was committed now. He could no longer turn back; all he could do was
carry
out his plan. With a deep sigh, Flaranthlas and Lenturin headed out of the main city gate of Solistine.

Chapter 2

For as long as could be remembered, the black river had stood as the boundary between humans and elves. It took Flare and Lenturin six days to reach its banks. During the trip, the only words spoken were spoken out of necessity. They rode side by side, set up camp, and cooked while exchanging the fewest words possible. Lenturin stayed to himself, and Flare was happy to let him.

He still had not been able to think of a way to get rid of the guard, even though he had spent every night trying to come up with a plan. He could trick Lenturin, but without a doubt his elven guard would be able to track him down and catch him. He had to come up with a way to trick Lenturin and delay the guard for several days.

They reached the banks of the river at dusk and made camp about one hundred yards from the river, between several enormous trees. There were numerous coves and small inlets in the vicinity, and
Tranquility
Lake
was a day’s travel to the east. On the eastern side of the camp, was an oak tree that blocked out slightly more than half of the sky.

As Flare lay under his blanket, he plotted about how to get rid of Lenturin. He had been to the black river four times before, and knew the area fairly well. But, while he considered himself a good woodsman, Lenturin was an expert. It would take almost two weeks to get to Telur, and Lenturin would easily catch him. Perhaps, he could trick him into waiting by himself for several days, but he seriously doubted his guard would fall for anything that obvious. If Yolstice had guessed his plan, then Lenturin would be expecting a trick, and would be ready for it. Fighting was out; after all, Lenturin was a highly trained member of the elven guard. He was still searching for an answer, when he drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, Flare woke to the smell of elven hollenstren bread being warmed over the fire. Hollenstren bread was a type of sweet elven bread that was good for the body and supplied a boost of energy. Lenturin was also cooking a rabbit that he had caught, and the smell made Flare’s mouth water.

Getting out from under the blanket, Flare stretched his sore muscles. He had slept on a root and his whole back was stiff.

“That’s smells good.” Flare said, stifling a yawn.

Lenturin grinned, “It tastes even better than it smells. Go ahead, get some.”

The friendliness of the guard's tone was surprising, but Flare recovered quickly. “I want to wash my face first. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” He shivered in the coolness of the morning as he walked down to the bank of the river.

The black river was named for its murky appearance. The bottom could not be seen except for right around the edges, but even though the river appeared gloomy, life was abundant in the river and in the woods surrounding it. Fish, beaver, and snakes were common throughout, and more exotic animals could also be found. At this point, the river was a good two hundred yards wide, and in many parts, it was even wider. In fact, there were very few places that the river could be crossed without the aid of a ferry. That was why he had decided to come to this particular section of the river. Within two days travel, there were three places that a person could cross, two were to the west, and the third was to the east.

Flare knelt down on the edge of the river and washed his face and arms. The water was shockingly cold and invigorating. He dried off while walking back to camp.

Reaching camp, he bent over and pulled some of the rabbit and bread off the spit. He ate in silence, enjoying every bite. He was almost done eating, when Lenturin broke the silence.

“So, what are you going to do today? Are you going to fish, or maybe track some deer?” Lenturin was smiling and watching Flare through narrowed eyes.

“Well, I thought that I would travel east to Solitan’s cove and fish. That cove has some of the best catfish of the whole river.” Flare said, getting nervous again. If Lenturin watched him like a hawk, then escaping was going to be very difficult, if not impossible.

“That sounds good; I don’t think that I have ever been there. Besides,” he said with a grin, “I love catfish.”

“Nothing personal, Lenturin, but I don’t want you looking over my shoulder the whole time. The reason for this
trip,
is to get away and have some solitude.” He hoped that he hadn't rushed the words; he wanted them to sound natural.

“I understand, but I am responsible for your safety. That cove is at least a good half days ride to the east. What kind of protector would I be if I am here, while you're there?”

“I don’t need your protection, and besides you are here to escort me, not guard me.”

Lenturin studied the younger man for a moment, “All right, I will stay here, but I am against it. And if anything happens to you, then I am not responsible. Do you agree?”

Flare nodded quickly, relief rushing through him. “Yes, I agree. I really don't understand why you were sent with me. I have hunted these woods for years, without any escort.” He stumbled on the words, confused by how quickly Lenturin had agreed to stay behind. Could it be a trick? It seemed too easy.

“I know Flare, but I am just doing what I was ordered.”

“Well then, I’ll leave for Solitan’s cove, and return tomorrow by dusk.”

“Fine.
As long as you assume responsibility.”
Lenturin said, watching Flare closely.

Flare did not respond, and finished eating. He was very careful to avoid eye contact, not wanting his face to betray his excitement. Here was the chance that he had looked for. If Lenturin followed his word, then Flare would have at least a three day head start. Lenturin wouldn’t even know that Flare wasn’t coming back for two days. Once, Lenturin realized that Flare was late; he would waste at least one more day trying to find him around Solitan’s cove.

Flare finished eating, and started packing his gear. He kept telling himself to be calm, and to take his time. The last thing he wanted to do was to act suspicious.

As Flare rode out of camp, Lenturin leaned against a tree, but neither said a word. When Flare had gotten out of sight of the camp, he let out a deep sigh and broke into a grin. He was delighted and amazed that he had gotten away do easily. Perhaps, he had been wrong about his uncle guessing his plan; after all, Lenturin had not suspected a thing.

He followed the riverbank, until he reached Solitan’s cove, just a little after noon. Solitan’s cove was a small sheltered nook in the side of the river. Trees grew all around the cove, and their roots hung out into the water. These roots were the very reason that the fishing was so good, because the roots protected the fish from predators. At this point, the black river was about four hundred yards wide. The cove, however, was no more than thirty-five yards across at its widest point.

Flare decided to rest his horse, and try to catch some lunch. He sat on a tree root and fished the shallow waters. The fish were plentiful, and so he was not surprised when he caught two fairly large catfish in less than twenty minutes. Rather pleased with himself, he started a small fire to cook lunch.

He ate quietly, thinking about where he had to go from here. It was about another hour and a half to the ford. The ford was at an extremely narrow part of the river, and a sandbar stretched out almost half way to the other side. Once he found the ford, he would cross the river and ride southward until dark. He really didn’t want to travel at night, at least not until he found a trail or road. The last thing he needed was for his horse to break a leg.

He finished eating and packed his gear back into his saddlebags, and then continued eastward. He kept his horse at a steady gallop. Time was important, but it wouldn't do to wear the poor beast out.

He reached the ford a little over an hour later, and his pleasant mood disappeared abruptly. Last summer, this spot had been easy to wade across, but it had changed in a year's time. The sandbar was gone, and the water was flowing much faster than he remembered. He could swim rather well, but he had no idea what was in these waters. And besides, the opposing shore was too steep for the horse to climb up, anyway. Crossing here was impossible.