Victory and Defeat: Book Five of the Restoration Series (13 page)

His mood had gone from jubilant to worried, and all it had taken was for him to talk to Belgil. He shook his head at the foolishness of it all.

Flare looked down at the stones that made up the alleyway. Even though the streets were crafted to handle large downfalls of water, here and there the street still gathered puddles. As he neared the main street, he hopped over a particularly large puddle, and then looked up and froze. A man was walking from left to right up the main street. Flare had seen him before at Fort Mul-Dune.

Flare tilted his head down a bit more but, other than that, he kept moving slowly in his original direction. He knew that any sudden movements might draw the eye.

He studied the man from under the edge of his hood. The man was dark, with long black hair and a mustache that hung low. He moved through the streets with a grace that betrayed his deadliness. Flare had seen the man’s skill with the sword firsthand at Mul-Dune, and he didn’t want another demonstration in the middle of a crowded street.

Flare turned right onto the main street and walked along the right side of the road. The man he was following was on the left walkway and it allowed Flare to watch him easily. His quarry was moving a bit faster than Flare, so he picked up the pace a bit.

He could think of only one reason that one of Zalustus’s lieutenants was in Elem; they were searching for the shield. He smiled at the thought that he at least had something that they didn’t have — a dwarf who should be able to point out which shield was Ocklamoor. The smile slipped as he remembered his earlier suspicions that Belgil might lie to him. The suspicion was still there despite the dwarf’s claims to the contrary. The smile slipped a bit farther as he realized he didn’t know if any dwarves were on Zalustus’s side or not. For all he knew, Zalustus might have more dwarves on his side than Flare had.

After several blocks Flare
grew suspicious. The swordsman wasn’t being overly careful to check for followers. It was possible that Flare was being led into a trap, but he couldn’t see how; even most of his friends wouldn’t recognize him. So why was the fighter being so careless?

Another idea occurred to
him and a cold chill ran down his back. Perhaps, the fighter wasn’t watching his back, because someone else was.

Nonchalantly, Flare slowed his pace and stopped to look into the window of a clothing shop. He stood there for several moments, appearing to observe the items in the window. In reality, he was carefully watching the reflections of the people on the street.

Flare immediately spotted two men that he felt could be working with the fighter. The first was an enormous man in a thick, furry overcoat. He was stumbling along in the general direction as the fighter. He appeared to be drunk, but Flare didn’t trust it; it was possible the man was an excellent actor. Flare considered him for several moments but dismissed him when he stepped over to the edge of the walkway and vomited loudly into the street.

The second man was shorter and thinner than the first, and he had the unmistakable walk of a sailor. Though short, he was muscular and wiry. His
gray hair was cut short. Flare dismissed the second man when he turned down a different street than the fighter.

Flare was just about to give up searching the crowds when he noticed a youth jogging down the walkway. The young man jogged for a bit
, and then stopped next to several barrels outside an inn door. It was difficult to judge based solely on a reflection, but he was young — Flare would guess his age around thirteen or fourteen — and there was something about him. He was also short and thin, but his hair was dark. The kid knelt down next to the wall and began to play a game with stones. He seemed to be trying to bounce them near the wall. Although a bit strange, Flare was just about to renew his following of the fighter when he noticed that the kid scanned the crowds more than he played his game. This went on for several moments, and then the kid scooped up his stones and turned and jogged in the same direction the fighter had gone.

Flare was torn. He knew who the fighter was and did not want to lose him. However, he suspected the kid was working with the fighter
, and he didn’t want his quarry to be alerted to the fact that he was being followed. If he overtly followed the fighter, he might alert Zalustus’s lieutenant to his presence. It was possible that he could follow the kid and still find out where the fighter was going, but it was also possible that the youth was just a thief.

Still undecided, Flare turned away from the clothing shop and began up the street. It was then that he noticed that the fighter was nowhere to be seen. “Guess that settles it,” he said under his breath
. “I’ll follow the kid.”

Flare followed the boy for half an hour, being careful not to be spotted by the youth. Several times Flare changed his appearance with sorcery. Perhaps he was being paranoid, but then again he didn’t think he could be too careful when it came to Zalustus.

They traveled westerly for a while
, and then turned and moved several blocks north.

Flare peered around the corner as the youth knelt down and began playing his stones game again. Sighing, Flare raised his foot to step out into the street but he hesitated. There were a good number of people in the street
, and nothing seemed amiss, but still he hesitated. He wasn’t sure why but he pulled back farther into the shadows and began scanning the street ahead. After a moment, he found what he was looking for. The fighter that he had recognized from Mul-Dune was on the opposite side of the street next to some crates. If Flare had emerged onto the street and followed the youth, there would have been a good chance that the fighter would have spotted him.

Flare pulled farther back into the shadows and slipped back the way he had come. He did not want to emerge onto that street the same way that the fighter and kid had, so he casually hurried back down the street and circled around the block. The block consisted of several shops and an inn
, and Flare was careful not to draw attention to himself by hurrying too much. Instead, he walked slowly and carefully scanned the crowds. No one else seemed out of place, and he soon completed his trip around the block. He looked out over the street where the fighter had been hiding. Flare sighed in relief at the sight of the fighter still standing next to the crates, but now he wasn’t alone. The kid was hunkered down next to the crates in the fighter’s shadow. After several moments, the fighter looked up and down the street, and then moved over and sat down on the walkway with his back against the shop wall. The overhang kept most of the rain off him, and the crates hid him and the kid fairly well.

“Now what are you doing?” Flare said aloud. It looked like the fighter was watching the building on the opposite side of the street. Being careful to not be spotted, Flare leaned out and looked at the building. It was an inn called
The Pirate’s Folly
.

Flare stayed in the shadows for over an hour. There was a pile of empty barrels near the mouth of the alley, so he got behind them and peered through the small gap between the tops of the barrels. He could see the fighter and the kid on the opposite side of the street, but he knew they couldn’t see him. Just to be safe, he still used sorcery to mask his hiding spot even more.

After the first hour, the kid got up and disappeared. Flare began to worry that the kid might travel around the block, and thereby might sneak up on his back. He spent a nervous ten minutes looking forwards and backwards, but the kid returned with a large mug and flopped back down next to the fighter.

He began to suspect they were waiting for someone at the inn, and as unpleasant as it might be, he settled down to wait them out.

The waiting drew out
, and he soon realized that he had underestimated their resolve. Every hour or so, one of the two watchers would stand and move about, mostly in the small alley that ran along the shop where they watched from; the alley would prevent anyone at the inn from spotting them.

Slowly the people moving about on the streets thinned as they returned to their homes. This part of E
lem was quiet and more reserved; anyone who wanted a raucous time would know to head to the docks.

The rain had stopped, but Flare was already soaked through
, and every movement brought the cold, wet cloth into contact with his skin. He so dearly wanted to return to his inn and change his clothes, but he chose to ignore the irritant. He was a soldier, and he said a silent prayer that cold, wet clothing would be the worse he would have to endure today.

Several more hours passed
, and Flare had barely moved when a new worry occurred to him. If the other Guardians noticed he was absent, they might start searching the streets. He would hate for the others to stumble across Zalustus’s lieutenants unprepared. He chewed his lip as he thought furiously what to do. Sighing, he twisted around slightly and moved farther back into the alley.

Flare paused next to a patch of deep
, dark shadows and looked around once more. It was late now, and the streets were eerily quiet. The only sounds came from down near the docks, and those sounds were muffled. He was alone and couldn’t see anyone from this far back in the alley.

“Ciderium,” he said quietly
, and a small flame sprung to life on the pile of rubbish. Flare used his body to shield the small flame from the opening of the alley. He forced his mind to relax and stared into the flames; he would not need any wards of protection this evening. He breathed deeply and directed his will into the flames, being careful to mask the booming vibration that accompanied wizardry.

He could feel another’s presence in the flame, but just barely. It was as if the other presence was trying hide from him. He grinned at the attempt. “Ziteul, come forth!”

A small, gray body appeared in the flame; it looked as if the creature was trying to dearly hold onto something and was being pulled against its will. Flare suspected that was the very case.

The creature’s gra
y little tail came through first, then its legs, until finally the whole body just popped through the fire.

Ziteul was the
first demon that Flare had ever seen. The wizard Mortimer had summoned the imp as part of Flare’s first ever lesson in wizardry. The imp was as ugly now as he had been then. The imp was small, not even reaching Flare’s knee, and two small horns protruded from the top of its head. A two-foot-long tail and sharp, little teeth completed the gruesome image.

For a moment
, Ziteul lay on the stones panting, but then he hopped up, bared his teeth, and made to pounce on Flare.

As he had been taught, Flare projected his will at the imp and the little demon froze. “None of that
, my little friend,” Flare said quietly.

“We are not friends,” Ziteul replied. Its body was still coiled as if to pounce
, and it seemed unable to do anything but speak.

“True,” Flare agreed, “in this world, you are my slave.”

Ziteul took a deep, raspy breath but did not say anything. There wasn’t anything to say, Flare was quite correct. Instead the imp just glowered.

“Whose is the superior will?” Flare asked.

Ziteul slowly bowed his head. “Yours is, and I am bound to obey you totally.”

“Good,” Flare said with a smile. “I have some work for you to do.”

Ziteul’s head popped back up. “And then I can return to my world?”

“After you complete your tasks,” Flare said slowly, trying to put a threatening tone to his words, “you may return to me and I will decide then if you may leave.”

Ziteul slowly lowered his head again, but there was no mistaking the hate in his eyes.

Chapter 13

Prince Danal returned to his chambers with only a few hours until sunrise. The halls were empty and quiet with only the occasional guard still awake. He was nervous, but not unbearably so. The first part of the plan was simple. If it didn’t work as hoped, then they would have to re-think the whole plan.

He rounded the last corner and spotted the single guard standing beside his door. He groaned inwardly. He knew the guard and actually rather liked him; he was unhappy for all the misery he was about to bring down on the man.

Danal forced a smile and nodded as the guard saluted. “Hello, Ronald. Anything interesting happen tonight?”

Ronald smiled back at the prince. They were close in age, both around twenty years old, but Ronald looked older, probably from his many years
of training outdoors. His blond hair was cut short, and there were already signs that it would thin soon. “Nothing interesting ever happens on these watches, my prince,” Ronald replied.

Oh how wrong you are!
Danal thought, and once again the pang of guilt rose up at what Ronald was about to go through. He forced a smile and stepped past the guard into his chambers.

He paused just inside the door and looked around at the room. His eyes scanned his surroundings, but he was so focused on his thoughts that he paid the room little heed.

The doorway from the hall led into a small sitting room. There was a sideboard off to the left and three couches for the prince to entertain guests, not that he ever had any guests. Two doors led from the sitting room; the left door led to his washroom and closets, while the right door led to his sleeping chamber. On the far right side of the room sat a small desk. The walls of the room were covered in a light oak paneling; it gave the room the feeling of a hunting lodge rather than a room in a palace. It was dim and dark, lit only by three flickering candles.

Danal walked straight to the sideboard and poured himself a large glass of wine, which he promptly turned up and drained. He considered a second glass, but as he didn’t drink much
, he felt it might impair him too much.

Taking a deep breath, Danal crossed the small room and sat down at the desk. He spent the next several moments writing a short note on a piece of old parchment. He re-read the note several times, unsure if he was doing the right thing
. His guard Ronald wasn’t the only one who was likely to get into trouble over tonight’s upcoming events. Sighing, he folded the note several times, then he picked up the nearest candle and let some of the molten wax drip onto the edge of the note. While the wax was still hot and pliable, Danal pushed on the wax with a small metal instrument. The instrument resembled a silver coin attached to a thin metal rod. He used the tool to affix his seal to the letter. If the seal was disturbed, then the recipient would know the letter had been tampered with.

Standing up
, Danal crossed the room but stopped just short of the exit. His stomach was cramping up and he was afraid he might be sick. He was rather pleased to have been one of the younger sons of King Darion. Typically, tough decisions were left to the king and his elder sons, and that had been just fine with Prince Danal. But it seemed like events were changing.

The letter felt very heavy in his hand
, and the prince looked down at the parchment. It was entirely possible that this letter could destroy Telur. On the one hand, he felt that things were wrong in Telur, but then there was always the possibility that Dagan and Cassandra had lied to him. It was possible they would assassinate his father, but he just couldn’t believe it of them. Between Dagan and Angaria, Danal would always trust the sorcerer more.

He hesitated only a moment more
, and then opened the door and stepped out into the hall. Ronald was still at his post and looked surprised to see the prince again so soon.

“Is everything al
l right, my prince?” Ronald asked. He looked Danal up and down. “You look pale. Are you sick?”

Danal nodded hesitantly and held the letter out. The guard took it and glanced down at the sealed note in his hand. “I need you to take that letter to the king immediately.”

Ronald looked surprised. “But, my prince, I cannot leave my post. If you will give me but a moment, I will summon a servant to carry the letter.”

“No,” Danal said immediately and with perhaps a bit more force than he intended. “I want you to take it to the king. You are to hand it over to my father and no one else. Do you understand?”

Now it was the guard’s turn to look a bit queasy. “Sir, I don’t know if I can do that! The king’s guard surely will not allow it.”

“It’s an order,” Danal said, and he began to feel a bit easier with the whole plan. It seemed the toughest part was starting. “Now, swear that you will only give that note to my father.”

After a moment, Ronald nodded. It appeared that words had momentarily failed him. He found his voice again moments later. “But my post! I can’t leave you unguarded.”

“Do not worry,” Danal said
with now. “You won’t be gone long and I’m sure nothing will happen to me.”

Dagan and the rest were several hallways over, and he could sense when Danal’s guard left. Dagan smiled, sensing the man’s intense unease. He sincerely hoped that the ramifications of tonight did not land too sharply on the guard, as he was only doing as the prince had commanded.

He caught Agminion watching him and grinned. “Give him a moment,” he said. Not counting the priest, Agminion was the only other sorcerer
, and he too could tell that the guard had gone. Strangely, he suspected that Warren might also know the guard was gone and that made him uneasy. He did not like having an ally who had unknown abilities.

The
entire group was here this time with the exception of Aaron. He too had wanted to come, but Dagan had insisted that he wait behind in the secret passage. If Danal turned on them, or if the king ordered them arrested, then it would be up to Aaron to free them. If, however, they were immediately turned over to the church, then it was Aaron’s duty to escape and try to warn Flare.

They had left the secret passage with Holgar, the bound priest Henry, and Atock in the middle of their small group. A bound priest, a dwarf, and a soldier with jet
-black skin would tend to stick out in the halls of the palace, and they hoped to hide the three men in the center of their group. The two sorcerers had also kept a constant watch for the presence of other people, and they had been forced to take a meandering path to the library. There, as he had promised, Danal was waiting for them.

To tell the truth, Dagan had half-expected to sense the library full of soldiers, but the prince apparently trusted them. Or
, perhaps, it was more correct to say that he trusted them to a point.

After a brief revisiting of their plan, they had followed the prince most of the way back to his chambers. They had stopped a little ways away from the royal
chambers, in a deserted and unlit corridor. And here they had waited while the prince wrote the letter and dispatched it with his guard.

Rising from where he had knelt in the shadows next to the wall, Dagan motioned for the others to follow him. To their credit, they did so without the first word.

They moved quickly and quietly to the royal chambers. The others appeared anxious, and perhaps he did too. Dagan wasn’t worried about getting into Danal’s rooms; he was more worried about what the king would do once he arrived.

Dagan only had to knock once before the door was jerk
ed open by an extremely nervous-looking Danal. The prince glanced left and right and ushered the group into his sitting room.

Danal mo
tioned around at the small room. “Do you want to talk to the king here?”

Dagan shook his head. “No. I think your chambers would do better.” He didn’t say so, but the prince wasn’t thinking right
, as there were simply too many reasons that this tiny room would not do. First of all, there wasn’t anyplace for them to hide. It was doubtful if the king’s guard would allow him to enter this room without first looking inside. It was even more doubtful that the king would enter once he spotted any of them.

Prince Danal nodded,
crossed the room, and opened the door on the right. They followed him through and into a large and spacious room. The bed sat directly in front of them on a small dais that had several steps leading up to it. There were two long tables off to the left, all of which were covered in books. Several steps descended to their right to another grouping of couches that faced a large fireplace. The stone blocks that made up the walls had been covered with a thin coating of white plaster. It made the room feel more warm and inviting. The walls were covered in bookcases and tapestries. In addition, several large chests lined the bottom of the walls. A door to their left opened to the prince’s washroom and closets.

Dagan glanced around and nodded. This would work just fine. Atock and Warren were already ushering the bound priest through the closet doors. Everything was working out as they had planned. Now if only the king would arrive as they expected him to.

Ronald hurried through the hallways
, and it didn’t take him long to near the King’s chambers. The royal chambers were grouped fairly close together, which was surprising, because in his estimation the royal family really didn’t seem to like one another.

The
king’s chambers were not so much a room as they were a long series of rooms. The king would work into the late hours of the night and many times entertained guests. The king’s rooms were different, as he didn’t have a single door that allowed access; instead, there was a hallway with many doors opening into his rooms.

There were four guards standing on either side of the hallway entrance. Ronald knew them but not well. It took a long time to earn a place on the king’s guard
, and they tended to be a close-knit private group.

As Ronald neared them, one guard stepped away from the others and his hand dropped to the hilt of his sword. “What’s your business here?” he demanded.

Ronald stopped well short and addressed the man he knew to be a lieutenant of the guard. The king’s guard had a rather simple chain of command. There was one captain of the guard, five or six lieutenants, and the rest were simply called Knights of the Guard. The man that faced Ronald now was a lieutenant. Ronald wasn’t sure, but he thought the man’s name was Redick. “I have a letter for the king,” Ronald said in a breathless voice.

“From whom?” Redick asked. His eyes never left Ronald’s face and the man never seemed to blink.

“Prince Danal,” Ronald answered quickly. He was unable to keep his eyes on Redick’s face and dropped his to the ground.

“Al
l right, give it to me and I make sure it reaches the king.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t do that,” Ronald said, his stomach twisting into knots. “Prince Danal instructed me to hand it over to the king himself.”

Redick looked surprised and cocked his head to one side. “And why is that?” he asked.

Ronald shook his head
. “I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t know. The prince simply handed me the letter and insisted that I hand it over to the king personally.”

After a moment
, Redick nodded. “Wait here and I will see if the king agrees.”

Ronald shifted from foot to foot, trying to wait patiently, but failing. The remaining seven guards watched him like a hawk, and their intense gazes made Ronald fidget. Thankfully, Redick returned quickly. The lieutenant stopped in the hallway and motioned to the guards on either side of the entrance. One guard stepped away from the group and moved beside Ronald; each man rested his hand on the hilt of his sword. Ronald swallowed hard. It was as if the guards expected him to draw his sword and attack the king.

Redick continued to watch Ronald and after a moment, he said. “The king will be here shortly. You may hand him the note and you may bow. You are not to do anything else. Do you understand?”

“Yes
, sir!” Ronald snapped. Technically, the king’s guard was not in his chain of command, but still they wielded considerable influence, and there wasn’t any reason to antagonize them.

They stood like that for nearly a quarter of an hour. The two guards
standing on either side of Ronald did not move. They seemed more like statues than men. Unfortunately, Ronald did move. He just couldn’t help it, and he shuffled constantly. The intensity of the king’s guard was a bit daunting.

Finally, a doorway opened a little ways up the hall and the king stepped out. He had changed from the more regal attire that he normally wore during the d
ay and now he wore a long, loose-fitting robe. Two servants followed him out and down the hallway.

The king came to a stop and studied Ronald. Ronald, for his part, stood as straight as he could, the fidgeting was long gone. He betrayed his nervousness only by his fast breathing.

King Darion smiled and said, “I’m told you have a letter for me that you insisted on handing me directly.”

Ronald nodded
. “Yes, my king. Prince Danal insisted that I give it to you directly.” He held the note out, which the king took. Ronald then bowed and returned to his rigid stance. The two guards continued to watch him closely.