Into the Wastelands: Book Four of the Restoration Series (10 page)

“I am acting on orders of the High Priest, himself,”
Jordan
was saying, a note of anger in his tone.

“The High Priest you say,” the
foremost of the
men responded. “And exactly what did Dalin Olliston have you doing out here?”
He was a big bear of a man, well over six feet tall and round. His face was covered by a shaggy beard that hung nearly to his chest. He carried a knife on his belt and an axe i
n
his hand.

Hope blossomed within Flare as a new thought occurred to him. Perhaps these men might unknowingly do him a favor.
If luck favored him, then perhaps these men just might be of the murdering thieving type. If they killed
Jordan
and took Ossendar with them into the forests, then he would be able to follow at a distance and retake the sword when the opportunity arose. At the very least, he wouldn’t need to fight in such an exhausted state.

Jordan
stared at the leader of the hunters in disgust. “What my orders are
is
of no importance to you. How dare you question the actions of the Church?”

The leader grinned. It wasn’t a pretty grin. Several of the man’s yellowing teeth were missing and even the ones that remained
looked
rather disgusting. “Who said we’re questioning the Church?” He stopped long enough to spit a glob into the grass. “Just because you say you’re part of the Church, doesn’t make it so. You might even be a crook on the run from the law.”

Jordan
scoffed at the very idea. He doubted if these three men were the honest law-abiding citizens they were pretending to be. If there was a criminal in these forests, he would bet his money on these three.
He swallowed hard. Under more normal circumstances, he would just circumvent these men and if they tried to stop him, then he would kill them. Unfortunately, the circumstances weren’t normal. He was injured and tired from travelling all day. If it came to a fight, he didn’t see any way that he could take these men.

“Been hunting these woods for many years,” the leader said. He was still staring intently at
Jordan
.
“
Never seen anyone from the Church on this side of the mountains.” He glanced at his two cronies and chuckled. “Even those high ranking bastards at the Fort haven’t come down into the woods.”

It took a moment for the words to register, but then
Jordan
pounced. “What? What did you say?” He glanced at the walls of the fort way off in the distance. “Who’s at the fort?”

For the first time, the trapper looked somewhat taken aback. He studied
Jordan
for a moment before he answered. Perhaps he began to suspect that
Jordan
was telling the truth, because his tone was much different than before. It was less derisive and doubting, and instead it became more curious and cautious. “I don’t know who they are, but they sure have everyone at the fort treading carefully. The bars are closing early and the whorehouses aren’t even bothering to open.” It was clear from his tone that he was upset about both the bars and whorehouses.

Jordan
glanced back the way he had come, scanning the trees for any signs of pursuit. Seeing nothing, he turned back to the hunters. He had an idea. It wasn’t one he particularly liked, but he didn’t have many options. He sighed deeply before he spoke. “How would you men like a reward?”

The three trappers eyed each other, looking confused. This conversation was not going the way they had expected.

“Go on,” the leader finally replied. “What do we have to do for this reward?”

Jordan
grinned. He had them. He had learned a long time ago, that in order to get someone to do as you requested, you had to motivate them. Sometimes, discovering what it would take to properly motivate someone was the most difficult part of the process. In this case, it hadn’t been too difficult to determine what motivated these trappers – money. He nodded his head in the direction of the Fort. “I need to get to the fort quickly. I want you three to help me.”

“Help you?”

Looking around again,
Jordan
’s grin slipped from his face. This was taking entirely too long.
He had to hurry it along.
“The Church will give you each a thousand gold pieces,” he paused for a moment, trying to determine how best to phrase the rest of his offer, “plus, we’ll overlook any of your former sins.”

The leader stared for a moment. It was quite an offer, perhaps a little too good. “And you can arrange this?” The doubt was evident in the man’s tone.

Jordan
knew at once that he had offered too much and he considered how best to regain the upper hand. After a moment he sighed. “I can guarantee this offer,” he paused, not wanting to say these next words, “because I’m carrying Ossendar to the Church.”

Flare let out a curse. His earlier hopes that the trappers would kill
Jordan
were long gone.
Jordan
had offered the one thing that would make these men fight for the Church – money. He could tell by their tones that it was just a matter of time now.

He turned his attention from the small group of men and focused instead on their surroundings.
There had to be something that would allow him to regain Ossendar before they reached the Fort.

Searching the forest first, he found nothing. Some small animals and not much else.
He expected to find
precious
few animals from here to the Fort. Animals knew better than to live too close to humans.

He was distracted by the sight of the four humans turning and walking towards Mul-Dune. They didn’t appear to be in a hurry and it took Flare a moment to figure out why. Then he spotted why they were moving so slow – it was
Jordan
. Between the man’s injuries and his journey through the forest and hills, he was exhausted.

Desperate now, Flare forced his spirit farther and farther outward, trying to find
something,
anything
,
that might help him. He could find nothing.

Finally, Flare gazed upwards into the heavens, hoping against hope for divine inspiration. He wasn’t exactly a believer in such things. It always seemed like the Gods like to pick and choose when they helped someone. Rarely, if ever, did
divine assistance
seem to occur when a person most needed help. With these thoughts running through
his
mind, and as he gazed at the mountains and sky above, it was then that his hope for divine inspiration was rewarded.

Jordan
kept his distance from his new-found allies. He didn’t trust them and he didn’t like them. Any man that had to be paid to do what was right was
n’t
worth having around. It was probably why these men lived so far from civilization to begin with.

He sneaked a look at the trappers and caught them watching him. Their earlier arrogance was gone. It had been replaced by something else – fear.

When
Jordan
had given in and told them that he carried Ossendar, he had been afraid that they just might leave him on his own. He could hardly have blamed them. Even crooks and criminals wanted nothing to do with Kelcer’s Destroyer. Evidently, the trappers’ love of money persuaded them to do the right thing.
Jordan
could tell that they were still unsure about helping him though. It was likely that at the first sign of trouble, the men would turn tail and run.

Jordan
stumbled and nearly fell as a booming explosion rang out from over their heads. He managed to stay standing, but only with the help of a small tree, and turned to gaze upwards.

A little ways to the east of their current position, one of the mountains towered over them. The explosion had come from the top of the mountain, but
Jordan
could not, as of yet, see what had caused it.

He was still staring upwards, when a sound caught his attention. He turned, pulling his gaze from the mountain top, to see his three escor
ts running as fast they possibly
could towards the forest.

Confused,
Jordan
turned back to the mountain and it was then that he understood. Fear and sadness welled up within as he stared upwards. Upwards at the mass of snow, ice, and rock that was flying down the mountain side.

There wasn’t time for him to run, not that it would have done any good anyway. Closing his eyes, he silently begged for the Lord Adel’s forgiveness for his failure. He was still silently praying when the rocks swept him away.

Flare watched in grim silence as the avalanche rolled over Jordan and his three new-found friends.
The noise was unbelievable, even the ground seemed to shake.
Jordan
disappeared first, and he was followed quickly by the other three men. The snow and the rocks cut a wide path, just to the south of Flare’s position. Trees bent and were broken without even slowing down the rockslide. The slide continued for nearly a mile down the slope before it gradually slowed and stopped.
It was not the ideal solution, but it did seem to have kept
Jordan
from reaching Mul-Dune with Ossendar.

The exhaustion once again threatened to overtake him and Flare leaned against a tree for support. He had so exceeded his body’s abilities, but there hadn’t been any choice. Using sorcery to cause the avalanche had just occurred to him and he had acted without hesitation.
It had worked perfectly, encompassing all four men and eliminating any need for combat. As tired as he was, he wasn’t sure he could have defeated Jordan, let alone the three trappers.

Wearily he pushed himself
away from
the tree and began walking south.
He paused only long enough to scan the mountain top. He wanted to make sure no more rock or snow was coming down. Everything that was left was either firmly in place, or else was
in
no danger of reaching Flare. Satisfied, he turned and headed westward, down the slope.

Orba
n sat bolt upright in his chair and craned his head to see out the window. He had felt something.

He climbed to his feet and moved closer to the window. From his room, here on the fourth floor of the General’s headquarters, he had a rather good view of the forests to the west of Mul-Dune. His attention, however, was not focused directly to t
he west, but more to the north.

Someone had just used sorcery out there, and used quite a bit too.
The feeling had jarred him awake.

The door to his room jerked open and two men entered. Under more normal circumstances, Orban would have given the two men a verbal lashing for entering without so much as a knock, but he barely registered the men’s rude behavior.

“Did you feel it?” Argus demanded, his eyes wide.
He was thin and looked even younger than he was. The purple robes he wore looked out of place on him, as did the sword belted at his waist.

Orban glanced at the youngest of his two companions in mild annoyance. How could he not have felt it? He bit his tongue though, and withheld any scathing comments. Argus was young, just into his mid-twenties, and he was easily excitable. “I felt it,” he answered simply, “it was to the northwest.”

“Any idea who it might be?” Terrell asked
in his normal slow speech
.
He too wore a purple robe. Unlike the much younger Argus, Terrell’s robes strained to hide the man’s enormous bulk. He was not fat, but muscular, and a giant of a man at nearly seven feet tall.

Unlike Argus, Terrell was closer to Orban’s own age. An experienced member of the Order of the Intercessor, Terrell would not be so easily shaken.

“No,” Orban answered. He knew why Terrell had asked. As the leader of this little group, Orban would have all the details of the mission. Details that he might, or might not, have decided to share with the others. “
Graycen is supposed to be somewhere to the southeast.” He paused for a moment, “
T
he last I heard Thomas was to the northeast, both of them were on the other side of the mountains.”
It was possible that one of the men had somehow crossed the mountains, but he couldn’t imagine how, or why. Well, he could imagine one reason why they might cross the
perilous peaks
. If they were chasing that bastard Flaranthlas, then nothing would have stopped them. That thought made him nervous. Could it be one of the other monks? If not one of them, then who? The hairs stood up on his arms as the thought he did not want to consider, forced its way through. “
It might be Flaranthlas,
”
he said, glancing away from the window.

Argus’ eyes got even wider, but it took Orban a moment to realize the boy wasn’t terrified, instead he was excited. Excited!

Sighing deeply, Orban turned from the window. “Get our horses ready,” he said to Argus. The boy grinned at him and sprinted away.