Victory and Defeat: Book Five of the Restoration Series (12 page)

She nodded her head, “Welcome. My name is Aracelle MaMirus.” She paused and studied Flare’s face. “Do you recognize my name?”

Flare shook his head. “I’m sorry, but no.”

She smiled slightly and continued
. “No matter. History has not been kind to women such as me. Tell me,” she said slowly, “have you heard of my husband, Senna Mirus?”

Flare blinked in surprise. He did know the name of Senna Mirus. “He was a famous general in the Second War of the Races,” he said. “I studied some of his battle strategies in the Guardians, and it’s been thousands of years since those battles were fought.”

Aracelle nodded her head. “I’m glad you know his name, even if you have the history wrong.”

Surprised, Flare was smart enough to remain silent.

“You see, my dear boy, my husband was a fool. If not for me, he would have led the entire human race to a quick defeat.”

“For you?” Flare asked confused.

“It was not my husband’s tactics you studied; rather, it was my tactics.” She paused again, but still Flare didn’t say anything. “You see, the armies would not have followed a woman such as me, so I planned the battles and my husband executed my plans.”

Flare nodded, even as he wondered just how much of history was wrong.

“Now, are you going to get out of the pool?”

Flare glanced down and then back up.

Aracelle chuckled. “Are you so bashful? Would you prefer that I leave the room?”

Flare shrugged and climbed up the steps that led from the pool.

Flare returned from Sha’al, emerging from his wooden tub, sputtering and hacking. He dropped his head into his hands and groaned; it seriously felt like his head was about to split open.

He continued to hold his head for several moments, focusing on just breathing. After a bit, the pain began to subside, and he began stretching his neck. He hoped he would not feel the need to return to Sha’al for some time. He had enjoyed his strategy lessons with Aracelle, but he needed time for his body to recoup.

He finally summoned the energy to climb out of the tub and dry off. He sat on the small bench for nearly half an hour
, and the pains in his head receded to a dull throb.

Sighing, Flare pulled on his clothes and went in search of something to eat.

Flare left the small inn a little over an hour later. He could hear Heather and Mikela talking in their room
, and Enton had fallen asleep, or perhaps it was more accurate to say he had passed out. Either way, Flare quickly got tired of watching the other man snore and left the room quietly. He considered going to the common room. He knew the food and ale were good, but he had eaten one or two meals a day there since they arrived in Elem almost a week ago, and he wanted something different.

At the bottom of the stairs, Flare paused in the small foyer and looked into the common room. Two large groups of merchants were crowded in, one group on either side of the room. A young
, skinny girl was singing a horribly off-key song, and the merchants appeared to be trying to drown her out with their talking. The noise was enough to give anyone a headache, and Flare was pleased that Belgil was nowhere in sight. He wanted to talk to the dwarf, but he didn’t fancy trying to shout over all the noise.

He turned right and crossed through the empty foyer, stopping only long enough to grab his oiled overcoat. He didn’t put it on but instead he carried it out onto the inn’s front porch. The porch ran the entire length of the front of the house and was raised up higher than the stone road that lay across the front of the inn. Along either side of the inn were two small alleyways that allowed access to the inn’s stable. There also was an entrance to the stable from the next road over.

The rain had slacked off, and there was only a steady drizzle now; nevertheless, the stone gutters along the sides of the road were nearly overflowing with the fast-moving water. Elem was used to the rain and spent a great deal of time and money preparing their roads and gutters to handle the enormous amount of runoff. Flare had been rightly impressed and, so far, it was the only thing he had found noteworthy about Elem.

He stepped off the porch and pulled his overcoat on at the same time. There were others walking in the street, but not many. The rain had been heavier even than what the inhabitants of Elem were used to
, and it had cleared most of the traffic out of the road.

He glanced first left and then right. He wasn’t sure where Belgil had gone
, but he doubted the dwarf had gone right; that way led to the harbor and to the more disreputable establishments. Guessing Belgil would have gone to the left, Flare started walking that way as well.

He walked for a while, just enjoying being alone. It wasn’t so miserably hot either and that made the walk nice. Normally the rain made everything steamy, but the sky was still a dark blue
, and there was a small breeze blowing that felt rather cool.

The street was crowded with shops and businesses, and there was a good crowd moving from building to building.
Not a whole lot they can do on a day like this,
he thought. Most of the shoppers stayed close to the building. There was a raised walkway that ran along the front of the buildings and an overhang that reached out from the rooftops, it was enough to keep most of the drizzle off of their heads.

This section of town was nicer than the harbor area, but still a good ways from the more affluent part of town. The inns catered more to the merchants and business owners, and bringing a whore back would have been frowned upon; although, as with most things, gold would have smoothed it over.

The first inn that Flare came upon was on the right hand side of the street. It was a nice building, three stories with a large, fenced stable yard to the side. Most inns had a small common room where their guests could get dinner or a drink. During the summer festival, most of the inns even hired musicians to help entertain the crowds. Flare could hear someone playing a stringed instrument inside the inn. He could also hear a woman’s voice singing a slow song. She seemed to be more on-key than the woman who had been singing at their inn.

Flare climbed the steps to the porch. It was short, maybe fifteen yards long. It was empty except for one man who sat next to the door. He sat on a small stool that looked like it might break at any moment and it would have been understandable; the man was huge. Some of the man’s bulk was muscle but more of it was fat. Still, he looked like he could hold his own in a fight. He had bushy brown hair and a bulbous nose. Surprisingly, his clothes looked clean and reasonably new. The man studied Flare as Flare studied him, but neither said a word.

Flare opened the door and stepped into the entryway. The common room was off to his left and he stuck his head in for a look. A woman stood on the left hand side of the room against the wall, and she sang fairly well. A man sat on a stool just to her right and he was playing a zither. Even though it was early in the day, the room was already nearly full. Most of the occupants were listening to the woman’s song and the conversation was minimal.

It only took a moment to realize that Belgil wasn’t here either and Flare headed back out the door.

Flare found the dwarf in the sixth or maybe seventh drinking establishment he checked. This one wasn’t one of the inn common rooms at all, but instead was a small pub just off one of the small side streets.

As Flare stepped through the door, quite a few heads turned his way and scowled in his direction. He got the feeling that this pub was more for locals than travelers. There wasn’t anyone singing or any other forms of entertainment. He planned to take a quick look and then head back out the door, but he jerked to a stop when he recognized Belgil sitting at a small table in the far corner.

Grinning, Flare started across the room. Several of the patron’s scowls deepened and every eye followed him across the room
. Flare just ignored them.

He stopped beside Belgil’s table and the dwarf looked up.

Flare didn’t know how long the dwarf had been drinking, but his eyes were still focused and alert. The dwarf nodded in way of hello and motioned for Flare to take the seat opposite him. A rather large cup sat in front of Belgil, and Flare could smell the sweet smell of the mead.

Flare sat down on the opposing chair and glanced briefly around the room. Most of the patrons had gone back to their drinks
, and only a few still watched him.

“Any luck?” Belgil asked.

“Some,” Flare said quietly. He leaned closer to make sure no one overheard their conversation. “Heather said there are a hundred or so shields in the temple. It has to be one of them.” He didn’t think he needed to specify what it he was referring to.

“So what’s the plan?”

“I’m going back to the abbey tomorrow,” Flare said quietly. “I’m going to work my way into the temple and have a look at those shields.”

“And me?” Belgil asked. His eyes studied Flare intently. “How am I going to get into that temple?”

There was an intensity in the dwarf’s words that gave Flare pause. He knew that finding Ocklamoor was important to the dwarves, and that was putting it mildly. It was more like a religious fervor. He began to suspect that Belgil might be a problem if they found the shield. Surely the dwarf knew the shield would have to remain in his possession for a while.

Flare sighed deeply
. “After I return from the temple tomorrow, we will return,” he paused and leaned still closer, “via wizardry.”

After a moment Belgil caught on and he actually smiled, which was somewhat unusual for the dwarf. “Excellent. So we may have the shield tomorrow night?”

“If all goes according to plan,” Flare said and he too smiled.

Belgil nodded and they lapsed back into silence, which dragged on for several moments.

After a while Flare asked. “Is everything alright?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve been distant, even more so than normal,” Flare said.

Belgil grunted and raised his cup back to his lips. Several moments later he lowered his cup and wiped his lips with the back of his forearm. “I hate all this sneaking around,” he finally said. “We dwarves normally prefer the more straight-up sort of business.” He sighed
. “I don’t see how you humans do it.”

Flare chose to ignore
the reference to him as a human; he still thought of it as a bit of an insult, but he also knew that wasn’t how the dwarf had meant it. “Well, if all goes as we hope, this will all be over tomorrow night.”

Belgil grunted again. “Things rarely go as we hope,” he said quietly.

Flare nodded and leaned in even closer. “You do understand that I will have to keep the shield for a while.”

Belgil raised his head and stared at Flare. “It belongs to my people.”

“Perhaps, but it’s also part of the Kelcer prophecy,” Flare said, his eyes narrowed and his tone became a bit more forceful.

“It all comes back to Kelcer,” Belgil said into the quiet.

“Yes, it does,” Flare agreed, “and that’s why I have to have the shield.”

There was a silence between them for a while
, and then Belgil asked, “What if your choice was between the shield or the dwarves?”

“Are you saying the dwarves will not join the fight unless I give them the shi
eld?” Flare demanded. Anger was trying to rise up within him. He didn’t like being threatened.

Belgil shrugged and looked away. “I do not speak for the dwarves in this matter, but the shield belongs to us. Why do we care if it rots in a human abbey or
if it is carried by you? It’s all the same to us.”

Flare’s anger disappeared and i
t was replaced by something new — suspicion. For the first time since they began their travels to Elem, he began to doubt whether or not he could trust Belgil. He knew the dwarf didn’t make a habit out of lying, and he had assumed the dwarf would help him get Ocklamoor. But now he was beginning to doubt the dwarf. He could see Belgil lying about which shield was the correct one and then trying to sneak away with the correct one.

Belgil appeared to guess Flare’s thoughts, or perhaps his suspicions played out across his face. The dwarf smiled and leaned across the
table to nudge Flare on the arm. “What? Are you thinking I might lie to you? Not tell you which one is correct?” He sat back in his chair and shook his head. “Wouldn’t do that. Believe it or not, I actually like you, and besides, my king ordered me to help you. I will do as he commands, but I make no promises that King Vognar will aid you in your fight to restore the order.”

Flare left the small pub moments later. His talk with Belgil had not gone as well as he had hoped and he was angry with the dwarf. He knew he shouldn’t be; he never wanted to be angry with someone for telling him the truth, but that was exactly what was happening.

He had
thought things were going well. He had believed that the dwarves would be on his side, and while they still might, he no longer felt it was a sure thing.

Flare stepped through the pub’s door and stopped on the covered sidewalk. He glanced up at the sky; the rain was starting to fall hard again. He pulled
up the hood of his oiled cloak up and began walking up the side street toward the main thoroughfare.