The Guardians: Book One of the Restoration Series (6 page)

After several hours of walking, he stopped to make camp. The clouds that had been gathering all day opened up and poured rain on him. He was soaked, miserable, and sore trying to sleep under an oak.

The next morning, Flare began the second half of his journey toward Telur. The rain stopped in the early hours of the morning, but not early enough for him to get any real sleep. He broke camp and rode south. He was relieved to see his mare had perked up after the near fatal events of yesterday.

Even though the terrain was hilly, there were less trees and vegetation to slow them down and they made excellent time. No humans lived this far north, and he rode without worrying about running into anyone.

The rolling hills were grasslands broken up by small patches of trees. Off in the distance to the east and west, he could see forests, but he was headed to the south into the grasslands.

The first night, he made camp in a copse of trees. He was exhausted and excited at the same time. He was in the real world and was riding to Telur to join the guardians. Alternating between fear of failure and sweet dreams of glory, he nodded off to sleep.

The second day of travel mirrored the first, at least until early in the evening. The sun was starting to go down, and Flare was looking for a good place to camp, when he rode over a small hill and he first noticed the lights of Deladon.

In the dusk, the lights reminded him of a swarm of fireflies. Judging by the number of lights, the city was larger than he had expected. From his studies, Flare knew that Deladon was a small city on the edge of the Telurian border with the elves. For a 'small' city, it looked awful big.

He sat on his horse staring out over the city, considering what he should do. Undoubtedly, the gates of the city would be closed at night. And besides, did he really want to ride through that city crammed with humans? Perhaps, he thought grimly, it would be better to ride around the city in the night and make camp on the far side; there would definitely be less chance of trouble that way.

His mind made up, he started riding down the road toward the city. He left the road well short of the high walls and turned his horse to the west. He didn't completely avoid attention, as he was surprised to see small huts and shacks thrown up around the base of the walls. Apparently the city was packed to overflowing, and the poor were being forced to live outside the walls. His stomach turned as the sight of the squalor that these people were enduring. Half naked children covered in grime ran around the camp fires, playing with large dogs. The fires were being used to cook the evening dinner, and for once he wished his sight was not so good. After looking to see what was on the spit of one such fire, he carefully kept his eyes away from the other cook fires.

It took several hours to skirt the city, and he was greatly when he stumbled across the Northern road. Upon reaching the road, he turned his horse southward and nudged her into a slow gallop. He wanted to put several miles between himself and the city, before he stopped for the night.

 
On either side of the road, the grasslands were broken up with small clumps of trees, although most of the trees were short and stumpy. In the darkness, Flare spotted a small clump of trees off to the right, several hundred yards away from the road. He dismounted and led the mare over the grasslands to the trees, after tending to his horse, he quickly fell asleep.

He slept until the warmth of the mid-morning sun woke him, and then he quickly saddled his mare, while eating some more of the elven bread. Not wanting to waste any time, he mounted and quickly headed south along the road.

The journey continued in much the same fashion, but now more villages and towns started to appear along the road. If the village was small enough, Flare just pulled his hood up and rode right on through, pretending not to notice the stares of the villagers. However, when he approached a larger town or city, he followed the plan that he had used previously, wait until dark and ride around the city. Perhaps he was being overly cautious, but then again maybe he wasn't.

The road slowly turned to the southwest, and then back to due south as he got closer to Telur. The farther south he
got,
the more people he noticed along the road. Also, farms replaced the grasslands running along the road. He spotted many a farmer working the fields, but they rarely noticed him.

Flare finally abandoned the idea of skirting around the towns and cities in the night. There were so many travelers on the road this close to
Telur, that
the townspeople didn't even seem to notice them. He rode through the towns and cities with the rest of the masses. Tired guards posted at the gates looked them over, but they apparently did not find anything amiss. As bored as the guards looked, he wondered if they would have missed a goblin riding through the gates.

He was beginning to think that he would never reach Telur, and several times he caught his attention drifting. There were just too many sights with all the people that were around him now.

A fight broke out between two merchant guards from different caravans, and he watched intently, as the guards rushed to break it up. He quickly followed the other travelers, as they moved to quickly get away from the argument. The last thing that he wanted was to accidentally get involved. He continued to ride slowly, looking back over his shoulder at the fight, until he started to lose interest. He turned back around and for the first time noticed how thick the crowds of travelers had become. For a moment, he was confused as to why there were so many, but then his gaze swept forward to the plains ahead. The road had just crested a small hill, and the view from here was excellent. Flare sat frozen in his saddle, looking in amazement at the massive city that stretched out in the distance ahead of him. He had reached Telur.

Chapter 3

Flare stared in amazement at what was in front of him. The city of
Telur
stretched across the horizon. Although he was still some distance away, he could tell that the city was many times bigger than Solistine. The buildings were block and most of the roofs were wooden, but he also noticed that some were made of an orange tile. The city had been built in an obvious random manner, with little thought for planning. Buildings had been built right beside other buildings with a completely different type of architecture. Built around the city, was an immense wall. He could see guards walking on the wall at different intervals. The wall was twenty feet high, and made out of huge square blocks of stone. He could see another wall further into the city. Leading down the hill and to the gate was a road that had been used heavily.

It was mid-morning, when he approached the city gates. Like most of the other human cities, the poorer residents of the city lived outside the walls. Makeshift communities had sprung up, with tents and small huts spread along the base of the wall. The smell of smoke hung in the air from the many small cook fires. A few sat along the road and begged for money from those entering the city, but he didn't see anyone giving to the poor, and his heart sank as he watched the misery around him. The people's squalor was starting to make him question his plan. Perhaps his human side wasn't worth learning about.

The city gates were enormous and made out of steel and wood. Guards were stationed on both sides of the gate, and were scanning people as they entered. The guards had to be more for appearances than anything else, after all, what would they be able to spot in the huge stream of people entering the city. The sheer size of everything was overwhelming.

Flare moved out of the throng of people and stopped next to the guards. “Excuse me. Can you tell me how to reach the residence of the elven ambassador, Henotairin?” He asked of a guard standing to the left of the massive gate. There were several guards there, but the one that he spoke to was in the front and looked to be in charge.

The guard was wearing chain mail armor under a loose fitting black tunic emblazoned with the yellow sun of Telur. His hair was brown and came down just below his ears. He was dark complected and muscular and wore a sword on his left side. The guard looked Flare over before answering. “I can, but what is your business with the elven ambassador?”

Flare was momentarily taken back by the guard's question. He wanted to be careful about what he told the guard, but he would need someone's help to find the ambassador. “I, I have personal business with Henotairin.”

“With the strained relations that currently exist between us and the elves; I cannot direct every person who has a complaint to the elven representative. If you have a complaint, you can take it to officer Seran. He’s at ...”

Flare realized that he was being mistaken for a human and pulled the hood back on his cloak. The soldier at once recognized him for half-elven.

The soldier's eyes narrowed, “Oh, Uh, my apologies. I didn’t realize that you were elven. Are you on official business?”

Not wanting to divulge his identity, Flare lied hoping that it sounded convincing. “I'm a courier. I have a message for Henotairin, which pertains to official elven business.” He said, smiling and trying not to stumble over the words.

Flare’s answer was good enough, because the guard quickly lost interest. “Wait here.” The guard said, turning and entering the small guardhouse.

The guard returned, leading another soldier. The second soldier was much younger than the first, but he was attired in the same type of armor. He was shorter and leaner as well.

“Jarum will escort you.” The first guard said to Flare. He then turned to the younger guard, “Jarum, after you escort him to the elven ambassador, return here immediately.”

“Yes sergeant,” was the only response from the younger, fidgeting guard.

The first guard walked back toward his post, leaving Flare alone with Jarum. The young soldier visible relaxed. “I'm going to take the long way, but we’ll avoid the marketplace. There are too many people there right now.”

“Fine.”
Flare said, climbing down from his horse. He pulled his hood back over his head, and followed Jarum. He had assumed that since they were taking the ‘long way,' there wouldn’t be that many people on the streets, but just the opposite was true. The streets were packed with people going about their business. He was amazed at how humans went about daily life. Elves were calm in public, but the humans showed very little restraint. He heard one human male cursing another, and saw children chasing one another through the streets. Merchants were hawking their wares and his senses could barely take in all the sights and sounds.

Jarum led Flare through the city, and before long they passed through the inner wall that he had seen earlier. They crossed an ornamental bridge that spanned a small river. The river seemed to separate the wealthy section of town from the poorer side of town. There weren't any shops on this side of the bridge, as they were in a residential area. The houses were enormous. Most of them had large walls, so he couldn’t see very much of the courtyards. Many of the houses were two stories, with large balconies that over-looked the courtyards. Most of them flew the flag of Telur, which was a golden yellow sun on a black background.

Jarum stopped at a house that had to be the elven ambassador's residence. The rest of the houses had wide open courtyards, but this house had a courtyard full of trees and shrubs.

He turned to Flare. “This is it. If there is nothing else, I’ll leave you.” His comment was more of a question than a statement.

“No, thank you. I’ll be fine.” Flare said, staring at the mansion. He barely noticed as Jarum turned and trotted away.

Breathing deeply, and beginning to get nervous again, Flare approached the gates. As he did so, guards ran out to bar his path.

“Halt. This is elven property.” The guard on Flare’s left said. He appeared to be in charge. He was slim, with blond hair that hung down below his shoulders.

Once again, he was being mistaken for human. Sighing, Flare reached up and pulled his hood back to expose his face and head. “I am elven, and I request an audience with Henotairin.”

“What is your business with the ambassador?” The guard on the left asked.

Flare's eyes narrowed, he had not expected a problem getting into see Henotairin. In Solistine, he had always tended to be somewhat timid, but after the last two weeks of traveling he was in no mood for questions. He had hoped to keep his identity a secret until he saw the ambassador, but it appeared that he would have no choice. “My name is Flaranthlas Eldanari. I am ninth in line for the elven throne, and I am in no mood to wait. I have had a very long journey, and I am extremely tired.”

Flare’s words had a profound effect on the young guard. His eyes initially registered surprise, followed immediately by recognition. He apparently had seen Flare before, and a little fear crept into eyes. Flare had been around the elven court enough, to know how to give orders. He just wasn’t used to having them followed.

“I am sorry sir. I did not recognize you. I was not aware of your visit.”

“There was a reason for that. Try to keep my arrival quiet.” Flare said, trying to act aloof. “Now, is Henotairin here, or not.”

“Yes sir. I’ll escort you to his office.”