Into the Wastelands: Book Four of the Restoration Series (7 page)

Flare could hear the words but he couldn’t quite figure out what they meant. “Huh?” he finally managed to get out.

“You used sorcery again, expecting that we would have to wait there while you recovered.” Thomas paused and studied Flare. “That was your plan, wasn’t it?”

Thinking back, Flare couldn’t quite remember what his plan had been. All he could think about was the agony that was his skin.

“Well, it doesn’t matter. Keep using the medallion, if you want to,” Thomas said with just a touch of bitterness. “Pass out all you want,” he leaned in closer, “regardless, we keep moving forward. If you die, then it will be on your own head and not mine.”

Mercifully, the blackness chose that moment to once again come for Flare.
He mercifully surrendered to it
s warm embrace.

Flare spent a couple of days flitting in and out of consciousness. At least he thought it was just several days, it might have been more. He awoke numerous times and his situation was
always the same. During the day
one of the two guards carried him. It was never pleasant to wake at one of these moments. His body still hurt from the last time he had tried to use sorcery and bouncing along on a soldier’s bony shoulder wasn’t his idea of recuperating.

At least waking at night wasn’t so bad. Waking in the cool night air and staring at the nighttime sky was more pleasant.
But he still didn’t maintain consciousness for long, and when he did, he always felt like he had been on a drinking binge.

He awoke one morning and felt like he might remain lucid
for awhile
.
It was early, maybe an hour before dawn and he didn’t recognize their camp. He could see the sleeping forms of two people and a third was standing watch.

He rolled over and pushed himself to a seated position. Immediately he wished he hadn’t moved. He broke out in a cold sweat and felt an overwhelming urge to vomit. He didn’t move for several moments. Instead he sat there,
willing himself to be okay.
After several moments the nausea passed and it was soon replaced by an unbelievable thirst. He considered calling out to the guard, but he could see that it wasn’t Thomas standing watch and he really didn’t want to draw the attention of the other two soldiers. They would all
be
awake soon
enough
and he would ask for water then. The nausea was passing quickly and being replaced by hunger. He wasn’t sure how many days it had been since he had tried to use sorcery but obviously the guards hadn’t gone to great lengths to feed him.

Desperately
, thoughts of escape flooded his mind. There had to be a way.
Flare tried to find a way out of his situation
, thinking of multiple different ways to escape and then dismissing them one by one.
There had to be something he had missed.

He sighed deeply. One thing was certain, continuing to try and use sorcery wasn’t helping. He was beginning to suspect that the medallion might actually kill him, and besides it wasn’t really slowing them down all that much. Another thought occurred to him. If he was delirious for days, then he might miss
an opportunity to escape.
That thought made the cold sweat come back. What if he had missed his best chance to escape because he had been unconscious?
Right then
and there
he decided to stop trying to use sorcery and find a different way to gain his freedom.

Still thinking desperately how to escape, Flare watched the sun slowly rise in the east.

They continued working their way south. The going was slow, due mainly to the rough terrain. The undergrowth was thick and kept forcing them to backtrack. In addition to the veg
etation, there were bogs, gullie
s, and such that also kept them retracing their steps.

Flare didn’t mind the delays. The soreness from trying to use sorcery gradually
eased
over several
days and his strength returned. The first several days he had a ravenous appetite and Thomas indulged him as a healthy Flare was easier on the two guards.

Regardless of whether he was eating, trudging along behind his captors, or lying in camp, Flare constantly watched for any chance to escape.

Regardless of what the group was doing, the two guards and Thomas watched Flare with a paranoia that never seemed to relax.
Several times
he
caught Thomas watching him with a knowing look that bothered Flare. Thomas had to suspect why he hadn’t tried to use sorcery for some time. Undoubtedly Thomas had warned the two guards to keep their eyes on him.

After nearly two weeks of this routine, Flare could tell the guards were beginning to relax and he knew why; they were nearing Mul-Dune. The very thought of reaching the fort nearly made
him
panic. His chances of escaping diminished a thousand fold once they went through the fort’s gates.

Despite constantly backtracking and retracing their steps, their journey through the forest had been surprisingly easy. They had spotted abundant wildlife but nothing that would bother them. The few animals that might have been dangerous had not been close enough to trouble them. It certainly hadn’t been anything like the stories that Flare had heard about this country.

It was late in the day when Thomas ordered a stop. He and the other two guards put their heads together, although they kept their eyes on Flare. They were in a small oblong clearing, having entered it from the northwest. All around the clearing were thick forests and the mountains towered over them to the east.

“Sir,”
Jordan
said, “we’re close. If we walk through the dark we can be there in several hours.”

Flare’s ears pricked up at that. Close? Did he mean they were several hours from Mul-Dune? A cold numb feeling settled in on him. He couldn’t willingly go through those gates.

Thomas considered what to do for a few moments and then shook his head. “No. We’ll make camp here. I do not want to give the prisoner a chance to escape in the dark.”

Neither guard said a word, but their shoulders slumped. They were both eagerly looking forward to reaching the fort.

They made camp in their usual military precision and Flare was soon lying near the fire. Since he had given up trying to use sorcery, the guards had moved him closer to their camp. It wasn’t a reward, they just wanted him closer so they could watch him better.

The second guard, whose name Flare now knew to be Bran,
dug some snares out of his pack and headed for the woods but stopped when Thomas called after him. “Sir?” he said
,
turning back to the camp.

“Don’t set the snares tonight. We’ll be in the fort tomorrow.”

The game
was
plentiful in these woods and every night the guards would set the snares near camp and the next morning they would have captured some rabbits
,
squirrels
, or other small animals
. There wasn’t any reason to mess with the traps tonight though, as there would be plenty of supplies at Mul-Dune.

Flare lay on the ground and slowly felt the hope draining away. He couldn’t believe that this was to be the way his journey ended. After several hours, the guards went to sleep, except for Jordan who was standing the first watch, and Flare continued to wrestle with despair. He had never wanted to restore the Dragon Order, in fact he had feared the very thought, but now that he had actually began to understand the truth of the Order, the decision was being taken from him.

Around midnight, he began to resist the despair and he started getting angry. These fools didn’t know what they were doing and he would be damned if he was going to meekly walk to the gallows. Tomorrow, he would walk through the gates of Fort Mul-Dune with his head held
high and he would continue
to try and escape all the way to Telur. Even when he
was in a prison cell under the C
hurch, he wouldn’t give up. There had to be a way.
Sooner or later, something would happen and he would have a chance. He was determined not to miss his opportunity. This new sense of determination brought
him
a feeling of peace and he idly wondered how long it would be before his opportunity presented itself. With the despair gone, or at least minimized, he drifted off to sleep.

The attack came
just before
dawn. A surprised shout woke Flare from a deep sleep, the first good sleep
he had enjoyed
in a while. He sat bolt uprig
ht and the cords that bound his hands
, dug into his wrists.

Bran was the guard and it had been his shout that awoke the three around the fire.

Flare could see Bran standing to the northeast of the fire. He was maybe twenty yards from the others and he had his sword in his hand. The guard kept his back to the fire and was trying to run backwards, trying hard to get closer to the others. It didn’t take long for Flare to see why.

There were creatures entering the clearing from the trees to the north. The sun was not quite up and it was difficult to make the attackers out, but Flare was half-elven and his sight was better than a human’s. The creatures were basically human shaped, but they were shorter and covered in a thick brownish-black fur. They ran hunched over and their long arms nearly reached the ground. In fact, several of the creatures looked to be running on all fours. Their faces were hideous. The
y
had long protruding jaws, wicked looking fangs, and deep set eyes. Once they had been spotted, t
hey gave up trying to
be
sneaky
and screamed shrill
cries. Their speed picked up and they ran straight at the camp. Flare counted
six
of the brutes.

Thomas and Jordan sprang from their blankets like any soldier would, drawing their swords and moving up in front of the fire.

Bran was nearly back to the others, when the first creature reached him. The guard slashed at the monster and the sword bite deep. The creature howled and jerked away, twitching as it fell to the ground. Bran had swung too hard. The sword stuck deep in the bone and as the creature fell, the sword was jerked from his hand. The guard didn’t even try and retrieve it, instead, he turned and ran towards the fire. He never made it though.

A creature launched itself at the guard’s back and hit him hard, knocking him to the ground. Bran was still too far from the fire for the others to reach him and it probably wouldn’t have done any good. The monster began tearing at the guard’s back with its fangs and claws. Bran screamed, but not for long.

Another of the creatures stopped and joined the first in ripping chunks of flesh from Bran’s corpse.
One of the creatures was dead and two more were distracted by the dead guard, leaving only three to advance on the fire.

Flare began to suspect that the creatures were not very intelligent.
They had the numbers to overwhelm the remaining three
warriors
but they had split
up
and only half even seemed concerned with the three
living
humans.

Everything to this point had happened in a flash, but now the three attackers approached slowly.

“You take the one on the left,” Thomas said quietly to
Jordan
, “I got the two on the right.”

Flare didn’t doubt for a moment that the monk was capable of killing the two creatures, he was good with a sword and he knew how to use sorcery.
Regardless, Flare didn’t wait to see the outcome. With the guards distracted, he began crawling frantically towards the fire. He had one goal, retrieve Ossendar and escape.

He
stopped just short of the fire and rose up on his knees.
Jordan
’s pack was to his left and Bran’s was to the right. He ignored them. He knew that Thomas had been carrying Ossendar and it was to his pack that Flare looked.
Every day when they trudged through the woods, he could see Ossendar strapped to the side of Thomas’ pack, he suspected the monk hung it there just to taunt him.

Thomas had been sleeping on the northern side of the fire, the side opposite from
where
Flare
was
, and it didn’t take long to locate the man’
s pack.

The three creatures had reached the two humans and the unmistakable sounds of a fight came from the north. Flare ignored them and moved with panic driven fear. This might be his best chance at escaping and he meant to take advantage of the situation.

Stumbling forward,
he
nearly burnt himself on the edge of the fire but he soon reached
the
pack.
He quickly rolled the pack over, but the sword wasn’t there. He stared in disbelief for a moment before he looked up to where the fight was going on. The original three creatures were dead, but the other two had joined the fray. Both humans were still alive but
Jordan
’s left arm was a bloody mess. Flare glanced to see how Thomas was doing and froze. Ossendar was strapped to the monk’s right thigh. He must have been sleeping that way, as there hadn’t been enough time when the creatures attacked for Thomas to strap the sword on.