Ossendar: Book Two of the Restoration Series

Ossendar: Book Two of the Restoration Series

Christopher Williams

Published by Christopher Williams at Smashwords

Copyright 2010 Christopher Williams

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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Dedication:

For Julie, the love of my life.

The Three Forms of the Mystical Arts

Magic:

Magic is a learned art. All that is required to learn magic is a good mind. The magic user focuses on their need, and then casts the appropriate spell. Spells can be as simple as single words or chants, or as complex as multi-person rites and rituals. Magic is by far the most common of the three forms of the Mystical Arts.

Sorcery:

Sorcery, unlike Magic, is something a person is either born with or not. It can not be learned. Sorcerers are born with the unique ability to control their spirit and use it to manipulate things in the world around them. Touching other people's minds and moving objects with just a thought are some of the more common uses of Sorcery.

Wizardry:

Wizardry is the use of the elements to summon demons. Wizards use their will to control the demon and force it to do their bidding. Wizardry has been forbidden for two thousand years, ever since the destruction of the Demon Lord war.

Chapter 1

Flare spent a sleepless night, tossing and turning. After leaving Telur as little more than a common soldier, he had been forced to take command of the defenses of Fort Mul-Dune. Against all hope, the fort had held out against the overwhelming numbers of attackers. He returned to Telur as a hero and received the welcoming he had longed for, but now it felt like he was returning home to Solistine. He almost expected to have his cousin Bantharuis taunting him after breakfast. Nightmares tormented him through the few moments of sleep, and the next morning he got up feeling more tired than when he had gone to bed.

After eating a hurried breakfast in his room, he prepared to visit the king. The feelings of nervousness grew as he waited patiently in his room for his escort. The feelings were not as bad as they had been last night, but they were strong enough to give him a stomachache. Sitting in the only chair in his room, he kept fidgeting and trying to pop his knuckles. He would notice it and try to stop, only to find himself doing it again a few moments later.

He shook his head at the strangeness of it all. King Darion had confessed he was Flare's father, but due to the political nature, he could not claim to be Flare's true father. The king, however, had decided to 'adopt' Flare as his own, thereby rewarding him but not taking ownership for his own actions.

After what seemed like an eternity, a knock came at the door. Flare quickly got up and found a young man in military uniform standing in the hall. The boy hardly looked old enough to shave, much less wear a uniform. He had dirty-blond hair, slim face and build, and a sharp nose.

Good morning sir. I'm here to escort you to see King Darion. The young man said, and then waited patiently for Flare.

What's your name? Flare asked.

Del, sir. The young man replied, somewhat nervously.

Del's nervousness caused Flare to smile. Okay Del, lead the way.

The castle was huge and Del led them through a part of the castle that Flare hadn't been in before. While still decorated nicely, the hallways seemed to be less opulent than in the main areas of the castle. There were fewer decorations for the walls, and it certainly felt less lived in. They wound through hallway after hallway, until they stopped at a doorway at the end of a long deserted hall. There were several older style tapestries hanging on either side of the hallway, and several holders for torches. The torches were not lit now, since light was streaming in through several windows.

Del turned to Flare, Sir, we're here. Just knock on the door and the guards will let you in. With that, he turned and walked back the way that they had came.

Flare watched the young man until he was out of sight, then he paused briefly to steel himself before knocking on the door. He had almost been sick last night and this morning, but now he just felt numb.

The door was opened by a guard wearing chain mail. He looked Flare over, before stepping to the side and allowing him to enter.

Flare walked into the dimly lit room. The furniture and decorations were out of style and dusty. Papers and equipment were lying around in a cluttered and disorganized manner. Light seeped into the room through minor openings in the heavy and dark curtains that covered the windows. The stone blocks that made the floor were heavily worn and cobwebs were hanging in the corners of the room. There were several dressers and a table near the door, and there were several steps up to the far side of the room, where there was a bed, several chairs, and another table.

The guard stood off to the left still holding the door open, and Flare could see another guard stood to the right. Directly ahead of the entrance, King Darion stood waiting patiently. He was dressed comfortably and seemed to be in a pleasant mood.

Come in, Flare. The king said, smiling and motioning him to come closer.

Flare walked past the two guards and it was then that he noticed Duke Angaria was also in the room. The Duke was sitting in a chair off to one side, looking angry. Angaria stood up, glowering around the room.

Flare came to a stop in front of King Darion and nodded his head, Your highness.

Duke Angaria interrupted, Your highness, this must not be allowed to stand. You must not adopt him; he cannot be your heir.

The king's smile faded. Angaria! We have already had this conversation, and I have made my decision.

But your highness, this is absolute foolishness. This will have major ramifications.

Enough! The king shouted, making Flare jump. I have made the correct decision and I will not tolerate any more comments about it. The king paused, calming himself. In fact, I think that I will continue this meeting without your assistance.

A look of confusion came over the face of Duke Angaria. Sir?

In a calm and quiet voice, the king said, Duke, you are dismissed.

Duke Angaria opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it with a snap. He half bowed to the king and then turned on his heel and stomped from the room. He walked so fast that the guards almost didn't have time to open the door before he walked through it.

The king waited until Duke Angaria had left the room before speaking again. Guards, wait outside the door. The guards bowed and left the room.

I'm sorry Flare. Unfortunately my announcement last night did not meet with the approval of all my advisors.

Excuse me sir, but didn't you expect them to disapprove?

Yes, and for a while they will resist the notion of you as my son, but they will come around. The king smiled, You see, Flare, they have no choice.

The king motioned him to come closer. Duke Angaria was here for some other business, he does not have anything to do with why you were brought here. The king took him by the arm and led him up the steps. Allow me to introduce you to another of my advisors. His name is Eul-Dagan, and he has been one of my advisors longer than any other. The king pointed to an old frail-looking man sitting quietly in one of the chairs next to the bed. Flare had not noticed him before.

Eul-Dagan rose to his feet, swaying somewhat in the process. I am honored to meet the hero of Fort Mul-dune.

Flare bowed toward Eul-Dagan. The pleasure in mine, honored father, He responded. The old man's eyes seemed to twinkle at the use of the title.

Flare, I have asked Eul-Dagan to teach you the history of Telurian nobility. Also, he will teach you the correct way to interact with other members of the royal court. It will be vital for you to know how to behave without negative consequences. The king looked toward Eul-Dagan for input.

After a moment the old man volunteered, It would be my honor to impart my limited knowledge to the new prince. Eul-Dagan said, slightly bowing his head.

The king smiled, Don't be deceived by his humble words. He knows more about this court than I do.

I will do my best to become familiar with the court, Flare said, the words sounding false in his own ears. How do you talk to a king?

Good. Now, I will leave you two to get to know each other. The king said, starting toward the door. He then stopped and turned back, Flare, I want you to join me for dinner. It will be a small group of people. In fact, I think it will just be you and the rest of my family. The king paused briefly, as if in thought, I will have Del sent by the tailors to pick up the second military dress uniform and deliver it to your room.

Flare's spirits sank. He was so looking forward to having dinner with his close friends; friends that he trusted. He actually dreaded meeting the king's other children, as he was sure they would have some anxiety toward their new 'brother'. But how do you refuse a request of the king? He put on his best fake smile and said, Yes sir. I will see you then.

The king hardly waited for the response; instead he was already heading toward the door.

Flare waited until the king had left, and then turned back toward Eul-Dagan. He was surprised to see the old man staring intently at him.

Judging by the look on your face, I would guess that you do not want to attend that dinner? The councilor said, half smiling.

It's going to be an uncomfortable evening, Eul-Dagan Flare responded. The rest of the king's children have to view me as a threat.

I would say that your assessment is probably understated to say the least, but please call me Dagan. The old man said, moving over to the chair nearest the bed.

Flare shook his head, I didn't want this, I didn't ask for this.

Sometimes our destiny is chosen for us, Dagan said. But, let's start talking about how to act tonight at dinner.

Sighing, Flare moved over and took a seat next to the old man.

Trestus stopped and looked at the stairway that led up to the small apartment over the seamstress shop. It was early evening with the sun just going down. He could see lights in the windows upstairs, but the shop below was dark. His mood darkened at the thought of climbing those stairs. He loved his mother dearly, but dreaded seeing her now that Callin was dead. He stood there for several moments, before sighing and then heading up the stairs.

The door was opened by a little middle-aged woman with gray hair that was pulled back in a bun. She wore a faded blue dress and a white apron. Her face lit up when she saw Trestus and she opened the door wide. Trestus! Oh my goodness! Come in. Come in. She backed out of the doorway to let him through.

The door opened onto a room that served as both a common room and a dining room. The right side of the room had a bench and a couple of chairs, and the left side of the room had a simple wooden table. Swinging doors led directly into the kitchen. The walls were dark brown, but the room was lightened by the colorful curtains. The floor was made of wood and showed years of use. Being so focused on seeing his family again, he barely even glanced around the room.

Trestus' younger sister, Marla, jumped up off of the bench as he entered the room. Trestus! She squealed, running over and throwing her arms around his neck. I'm so glad you're okay. She was just fourteen with long brown hair and a slimness that showed her age. He noted that she was maturing quickly.

He choked up, a tear running down his cheek. Mom, I'm so sorry. I tried to protect .. He couldn't finish the sentence as the tears turned into a flood.

His mother's face softened and she stepped over and hugged him, joining Marla who was still hugging him. Oh Trestus, I know you did your best. When you both became soldiers, we knew that something could happen to either one of you. Callin died a hero, saving lives. I'm sure there was nothing you could do.

They stood there for several moments, hugging and all three crying. The tears finally subsided, and they each wiped the tears off of their cheeks. Trestus' mom, Aileen, stepped away from the group toward the kitchen. Trestus, sit down and I will finish getting dinner ready. She didn't wait for an answer.

Trestus watched her go, feeling like he had failed her. Marla, how is she doing?

Marla wiped another tear off of her cheek and said, Probably about as good as she can. She misses Callin, as do we all, but it's still tougher for her. She turned to look back at Trestus and punched him, How are you doing?

Trestus dropped his eyes to the ground, I feel like I failed him and mom.

Marla's heart ached for him. Ever since they had been boys, Trestus had watched out for Callin. He had always been the responsible one and on numerous occasions had kept Callin from getting into trouble. On the occasions that Callin had gotten into trouble, mom had always blamed both of the boys. Marla shook her head, 'mom conditioned him to think that it was his responsibility'. Trestus, was there anything more you could have done to protect Callin? Trestus shook his head. Well then why are you blaming yourself?

Trestus looked into Marla's eyes, noting for the second time that she was maturing rapidly. Her arguments made sense, and it did lessen the feeling of guilt, but it was still there nonetheless.

Just then Aileen came through the swinging doors carrying several platters of food. Come on, and sit down. Trestus and Marla sat down at the table on the side opposite their mom. Trestus, we are so proud of you. A soldier came to the shop and announced that you had been awarded the golden dagger. It is such an honor.

For the first time since he arrived, Trestus smiled. Marla reached over and rubbed his shoulder. I'm proud of it. He cleared his throat, How has business been? Are you doing okay?

Aileen smiled at her son, Things have been great. New business has been coming to our shop every day since they announced that you and Callin won the golden dagger. A look of surprise crossed her face, Trestus, I almost forgot. Did you know about the money?

Money. What money? Trestus responded.

It was Marla who answered him, The king has designated a royal allowance for us because of you and Callin. The allowance is more money each week than we used to make in a month. She said, smiling.

Trestus had always felt a sense of responsibility for taking care of his mother and his sister. With the news of the allowance, a weight seemed like it was lifted off of his shoulders. Even if something happened to him, at least his mom and sister would be taken of. He smiled and reached for the food.

Flare arrived at dinner feeling somewhat anxious, it was a feeling that he was starting to get used to. Once again, it was the young guard Del that escorted him to dinner.

The small but elegant dining room had wooden floors and polished red wood columns. The walls were also made of beautiful red wood planking, and the walls were covered with exquisite paintings. Light emanated from two chandeliers, one hanging over each end of the table. The table was made of glass and was set with elegant silverware and an elaborate candelabra.

Flare was the second to arrive for dinner. Another young man was already waiting; he looked Flare up and down as he entered the room. The young man was Darion the second, the crown prince. He looked very much like his father the king, but was only twenty-five years old.

So you're what all the fuss is about? The crown prince asked.

Yes, I'm Flaranthlas, He answered.

I'm prince Darion. I am heir to the throne. I do not appreciate, not do I want any other princes. I don't know how elves handle line of succession, but I suggest you don't make any plans on moving up in the order.

Flare took a deep breath, Listen to me. I have absolutely no desire to be king. I didn't even want to be a prince of Telur. The king didn't ask me, he told me about all this.

The prince seemed less than convinced, but he didn't say anything else because at that moment the king and the rest of the guests showed up.

Hello Darion. Hello Flare, The king said as he approached them. I see that you two have already met.

Yes, Darion said, scowling at Flare. We were just talking.

Good. Flare, let me introduce you to my other children. The king said as he turned sidewise to point out the people with him.

Flare spoke to each of the king's children as he was introduced to them, but he was subdued and quiet in his conversation.

This is my second son, Aldon, The king said, pointing to a young man standing off to the side. He looked like his father in the face, but he was more muscular. He had short jet black hair that was already starting to recede. His skin was a dark brown from spending so much time in the sun, and his nose was crooked, apparently from a fight. He appeared to be several years younger than Prince Darion. He also wore a military uniform, although his uniform was of the regular army, and not the guardian uniform like Flare's was.

Hello, was all Flare said, shaking Aldon's hand.

It's a pleasure to meet you. I am in awe of what you did at Mul-dune. Aldon said seemingly sincere. He appeared to be a serious person with little room for jocularity.

Aldon's words lightened Flare's mood, perhaps the night would not be a total disaster. But then again, the second son had nothing to fear from him. He would not be king regardless of the addition of the new prince.

The king motioned to another young man standing slightly behind Aldon. This is my third son Danal.

Danal appeared to be about twenty. He had shoulder length brown hair, and a slim build. Compared to his older brothers, Danal was downright skinny. He had a large flat nose and pasty white skin. He reminded Flare of the children he grew up with who spent more time reading a book than running in the sunlight.

It's nice to meet you, Flare said, reaching to shake hands.

Yeah, it's nice to meet you too, Danal said. There was no strength in his handshake. He made eye contact with Flare briefly, and then his eyes shifted to his father and then straight to the floor. If anything, Flare thought that Danal and Aldon were unconcerned about his recent adoption.

And this is my youngest son, Barrett. Barrett was about sixteen or seventeen and he had sandy blond hair. He had a good complexion, and he would have been thought handsome by the young ladies. He was starting to add the muscle that comes with manhood, and he maintained eye contact with Flare the whole time that king Darion was introducing him.

Nice to meet you, Flare said to Barrett as they shook hands.

I'm sure, was the cocky answer that Barrett gave. His manner bothered Flare. He had been around spoiled royal children before, and it had been his experience that they could be trouble.

And these three ladies are my daughters. The eldest is Cierra, the king said as he pointed to a young blond woman. She had dirty blond hair and brown eyes. Her skin was very dark, and she had the hourglass figure that men like.

Hello, Flare said, feeling uncomfortable at the anger in the look that Cierra was giving him. She apparently did not welcome him to the family.

My middle daughter is Elizabeth, The king said.

We've already met, Flare said. I was supposed to guard her, but I was reassigned at the last minute. Those words triggered the memories to come flooding back, when he had been assigned to guard the princess Elizabeth but he had been pulled off of the detail at the last minute. Sergeant Latts had said there were some bad rumors about the king's daughters and that they had ruined the careers of some promising young military men. Sergeant Latts had also said that perhaps the king was just protecting Flare from the possibility of scandal. But another thought now occurred to him; perhaps the king was protecting Flare from allowing anything to happen between him and his half sister. He tried not to grimace at the thought.

Elizabeth, like her older sister Cierra, seemed rather un-happy about having more competition for the throne. Her aloof manner told him more than any words could.

The king smiled as he introduced his last daughter. This is my youngest, Alicia.

Flare thought that Alicia was about thirteen or so. She had long white blond hair, and dark skin. Her eyes were a beautiful green that almost seemed to glow.

It's nice to meet you, Flare. Alicia said, before he could speak.

The pleasure's mine, Flare said smiling. Alicia seemed genuine, and he immediately found himself liking her. She seemed either to not notice the attitudes of her older siblings, or she didn't share their views. Either way, Flare was glad for another friendly face.

The king stepped toward the table, Come; let us have a seat.

The dinner was a stiff and unpleasant affair; wonderful food with a side of suspicion and resentment. Aldon, Danal, and Alicia seemed genuinely open to having Flare as an adopted brother, and they were friendly enough to talk to, except Danal. His lack of talking was not because of resentment, but he seemed genuinely shy. The rest did not like Flare and they didn't even try to hide it.

Aldon seemed to carry the conversation, mainly due to his military interest in the happenings at Fort Mul-dune. When his questions ran out, so did most of the conversation.

Prince Darion had barely touched his piece of roast ham, before he excused himself due to an early morning hunt. He was followed in quick order by Cierra, Elizabeth, and Barrett.

'Good riddance.' Flare thought as they left. The mood was certainly more relaxed with them gone.

Ignore them. Alicia said. They always act like that, it's not you. She smiled as she spoke and Flare found he was smiling back.

She's right. They always seem like they have a stick up their arse. Aldon said and Danal giggled.

Aldon, do not talk like that in front of your sister! The King said quickly, putting on a stern face.

Oh father. I've heard worse that that. She said, then quickly lowering her eyes from the dour look on her father's face.

The king leaned back in his chair. Well, the mood certainly seemed to lift when they left. Didn't it?

Chapter 2

Flare started his lessons with Dagan the next morning. The old man insisted on them starting before the sun was even up and Flare was half asleep when he stumbled to Dagan's room.

The old man was already up and sitting in a chair when Flare arrived. He was wrapped up in a heavy blanket, apparently trying to resist the coolness of the early morning. He sat quietly sipping something from a steaming cup.

Good morning, Flare. Dagan said with a smile, Are you ready for some lessons on etiquette and history?

Sure, but I hope you don't mind repeating yourself, because this early in the morning, it may take several times for me to remember.

Dagan's smile grew wider, I'll try to not bore you too much. Now let's start with the family history of the Earl of Whitehorn....

Philip sat fidgeting in the parlor of his father's mansion, which was just a short distance from the king's palace. He sat on a small white sofa that had redwood trim, across from two chairs that matched the sofa. Across the room, a wood and glass corner cabinet held several antiques, and there was an exquisitely drawn picture of Philip's mother on the far wall. A small table was in front of the sofa, and two swords were hung crossed on the wall. He had always hated his family's house in the city. Their country estates were so much more enjoyable. His mother, the lady Alela, sat beside him on the sofa. His father was expected at any time.

We are so proud of you, Philip. Alela said, smiling at him. She was in her early fifties and was aging gracefully. Her hair hung to her shoulders, and was still dark brown. Her skin was smooth and tan, and had been the object of jealousy from some of the other ladies around the court. She was wearing a long elegant red dress and an enormous diamond ring on her left hand. You are the first member of the Connell family to ever be awarded the golden dagger. His mother had always been very supportive of him, almost to the point of coddling. In her eyes he could do no wrong.

Philip, for his part, loved his mother very much and appreciated her unwavering support. His father, on the other hand, insisted on nothing but the very best from him, and his father had always made him nervous. They both had been at the awards ceremony two nights ago and had praised him afterwards, but his father had always been more supportive in public than in private. His mother was telling a story about two ladies in the court who had turned out to be in a delicate situation, but Philip only half listened. His thoughts were elsewhere.

At that moment, Gavin, Philip's father entered the room. He was advanced in years, being almost seventy years old. His thin hair was pure white and he moved slower now than when Philip had been growing up. He had a few more age spots on his face than Philip remembered, but he looked to be in good shape. A stern but sincere smile lit up his face at the sight of his son. Philip, it's good to have you home.

Philip stood, as his father entered the room. Thank you father. It's good to be home. I would have come home yesterday, but I was asked to attend several public ceremonies because of the award. He fought to keep his hands from fidgeting as he spoke; how he hated the nervousness he always felt around his father.

Gavin waved his hand at Philip. The people need to see their newest heroes, it's very important for the morale of the people. He paused a moment, before continuing, I'm very proud of you. It's quite an honor to be awarded the golden dagger. Philip smiled at the words of his father, his tension easing. Philip, the only way it could have been better, is if you had led the guardians instead of that elven bastard. The last words wiped the smile off of Philip's face.

Alela sprang off of the sofa with a look of irritation on her face. Gavin! Our son came home a hero, don't slight his accomplishments.

Gavin rolled his eyes at his wife. I didn't mean anything by it. I just think that Philip should have been the leader, that's all. Then turning back to Philip, We are proud of you, son. He emphasized the word are, all the while intently holding his son's gaze. I expect great things from your future, but unfortunately something has come up that requires my attention. But, I will see you tonight at dinner and you can tell us all about the battles. He turned and started out of the parlor, You know how it is, affairs of state and all. Gavin disappeared around the corner, and they could hear his footsteps heading down the corridor.

Alela put her hand on Philip's shoulder, I'm sorry Philip. He doesn't mean anything by it; he just doesn't know how to show that he cares.

Philip put his hand on top of his mother's hand, It's all right. I understand. Silently, just to himself, he wondered if he really did understand.

Days turned into weeks, as Flare learned not only rules of etiquette, but also the history of Telur; and not just the history of the kingdom, but also the history of the important families of the realm. How the families were related and what those relations meant to the politics of Telur. He quickly found himself glad he was not the first in line for the throne, since the future king would be required to use all of this information. He really didn't see why he needed to know all of these things though. Certain portions of the lessons fascinated him, but for the most part, he was just plain bored. More and more he would interject questions hoping to steer the topic to something a little more interesting. Dagan took notice, and tried to supply the more interesting tidbits of knowledge.

Flare quickly decided the king had been right when he said there was not a better person to learn from than Dagan. The old man spoke his mind, even if it was to say the king was acting foolishly. Flare was amazed that Dagan refused to hold his tongue, and worried not one bit about the repercussions.

Dagan, why did the king say you know more about the court that he does? Flare asked one morning in the middle of a lesson he was completely uninterested in. Is it because you have been in the court for so long?

Dagan scowled, Are you trying to say I'm old?

Fighting hard, Flare resisted the urge to smile. Of course not, but you are older than the king. He answered diplomatically. Dagan had developed a tendency to get ornery, but most of the time Flare thought he was putting on rather than actually being contrary.

Dagan watched for several moments, apparently trying to see if Flare would smile or in some way make fun of him. When he did not, the old man responded, Young man, I have been a councilor to three generations of Telurian kings. I was considered old when king Darion was born. He paused as if waiting for Flare to say something, when he didn't, Dagan continued. King Darion is a good man, although I feel he listens to the wrong advisors sometimes. Like that fool, Angaria. You know there was a time when I was one of the first consulted by the king's father. My advice was sought above all else, but now King Darion thinks I am too old. He thinks I don't know what is going on, and he listens to men who have their own personal ambitions.

Do other people in the royal court seek your advice? Flare asked.

Most people are scared of me, Dagan answered flatly.

Flare smiled, and started to make a joke of the comment, but the old man wasn't laughing. The smile slowly slid from Flare's face, Why are they afraid of you Dagan?

Dagan smiled, and it was such a smile that froze Flare's blood. Only a fool isn't afraid of a sorcerer, He said in a calm quiet voice that Flare almost didn't hear.

Sorcerer? I thought that you were just an advisor, Flare said, somewhat surprised.

Paw! When the king started thinking me too old is when he started calling me an advisor. Before that, I was always introduced as the king's sorcerer. Dagan was lost in thought, and Flare let him wander, patiently waiting for him to return to the here and now. I was always in the king's presence, but now I am just an afterthought. It almost seems that the king is waiting for me to die, and until then he humors me.

Interest and pity fought within Flare, and the interest won. Dagan, elves don't practice sorcery. In fact, I don't even know exactly what it is. He said, hoping to change today's lesson to something a little more interesting.

Dagan waved an old bony hand at Flare, The elves always were restrictive in what they thought was appropriate, and you're wrong about elves not practicing sorcery. I know some elven sorcerers myself, and I have heard of others that practice in elven society although not publicly.

Flare was surprised, and thought about questioning the old man. But then again, how many elven warriors used magic?

Dagan moved a piece of paper with a family tree on it off of his lap. They had been reviewing the paper, but Flare was glad to see it go. Don't think I don't know what you're doing, boy. It just so happens that I too am getting bored with this genealogy. Maybe a little diversion would be good for both of us.

Flare's mood leaped at the words, he could only take so much of being bored half to death.

Magic is the practice of using rituals and items to reach a desired goal. Sometimes the only thing needed is a word or sentence of power. Other times, elaborate rituals involving magic items and multiple people are required. What makes a magic user good, is adroitness and a good memory, but that's not true for a sorcerer. Sorcery is an inborn talent. Either you have it or you don't. Learning how to use the abilities are involved, but if you do not have the talent, then it doesn't matter how much you try and practice. He paused to re-adjust himself in the chair. You see Flare, every person is born with a spirit, and that spirit, that life energy is what determines a person's ability to be a sorcerer. The stronger that life energy, then the stronger a sorcerer that person can be. Do you know what sorcerer's can do?

Flare shook his head no. He found himself more awake and interested today than he had been in days. He was enjoying this brief respite from the histories of families that he had never heard of, or cared to ever hear of again.

Dagan smiled, enjoying the attention Flare was paying to his words. Sorcerer's use their spirit to manipulate things in the physical world. For instance, a sorcerer can move things by thinking about it. Flare almost jumped, as a book that had been sitting on the table suddenly started floating on its own toward them. The book came to rest on the floor beside his chair. Dagan smiled before continuing, Sorcerer's can communicate over long distances, they can influence people's decisions, and powerful sorcerers have been able to control another person's mind. Sorcerer’s can also create illusions, and cast charms on people. A select few have been known to receive visions and give prophecies. Every person has this energy within them, but most don't know about it, and if they did know about it, most still wouldn't be able to use it. And sometimes people use it without even knowing about it. If you walk through the market place, you will see merchants selling their wares. However, if you look close enough, you will see merchants who outperform their rivals, even though their rivals merchandise is of the same quality. What's the difference between the two? If you ask most people, they will say that one merchant has charisma, and the other does not. On a rare occasion however, the one merchant may be using his life energy to influence people to choose his wares. And they don't even know that they are doing it.

So a person learns how to be a sorcerer quickly? Flare asked.

A person can learn to be a sorcerer quickly, but even I learn new things about sorcery all the time. It takes a long time to become a master sorcerer. Dagan paused for several moments before continuing, Flare, do you know what wizardry is?

No. Flare answered quickly. The only thing he knew about wizardry is that it was banned.

I'm not surprised. The elves like wizardry even less than they like sorcery. Wizardry is also called summoning.

At the mention of summoning, the hairs stood up on the back of Flare's neck. Summoning was a word he knew. Summoners used flame in a ritual which allowed them to summon beings from another plane of existence. Demons had been summoned in the demon-lord war to fight terrible battles for their human masters. Dagan, that's a dark art, and I thought that wizardry was not allowed anymore.

Dagan smiled, Why is it a dark art? How do you know, Flare?

Flare frowned, I do not know firsthand, but I have always been told that wizardry is horrible and those that practice it should be punished. During the demon-lord wars thousands died because of the demons.

Not because of the demons but because of the humans that controlled the demons. Dagan corrected, and Flare's eyes narrowed as he considered the difference. The church agrees with you. In fact, they are starting to look down on sorcerers, as well. It's only a matter of time until they outlaw sorcery, the church banned wizardry shortly after the death of Osturlius and the punishment is death by torture.

Flare almost fell out of the chair he had been sitting in. They banned it after Osturlius died? Does that mean that Osturlius' sin was something to do with Wizardry?

Dagan cocked his head as he watched Flare, Who says he sinned, and more importantly why is wizardry bad? You can't answer that question, can you? Dagan paused, looking smug. The answer, Flare, is that wizardry is wrong because people have told you its wrong, and they told you its wrong because people are afraid of it.

But summoning is dangerous. Horrible things can be unleashed on the world, Flare said, a knot of doubt growing in his stomach.

Dagan picked up a steaming cup off of the small end table that was beside the chair. Many things are dangerous. A sword in the hand of an idiot is dangerous, or a sword in the hand of a master swordsman is also dangerous. A warrior who uses magic is dangerous.

The words hit him like a slap across the face. 'A warrior who uses magic,' now why did Dagan say that? Does he know about me? Flare struggled to not show the fear that was blossoming in his stomach.

Dagan just sat there, sipping his drink and watching Flare.

Warriors are not allowed to learn magic, Dagan. What would make you say something like that? Flare asked. The knot of doubt in his stomach was turning into a knot of fear.

A smile crept across the face of Dagan. Why are warriors not allowed to learn magic? the old man asked; answering the question with a question.

Feeling too nervous to remain seated, Flare stood up and paced back and forth while saying, It has been that way since the demon-lord wars. Ever since my grandfather, king Osturlius’s fall, actually he is my great, great, great, grandfather. Anyway, his fall caused a curse to be placed on all elves by the gods, and since then warriors have been forbidden on pain of death from learning the magical arts. You know all of this, so why do you pretend not to know? Flare was trying to conceal his nervousness, but he knew that he was doing a terrible job. Perhaps he could pass it off as being uncomfortable about talking about his grandfather.

Dagan paused for a moment to collect his thoughts before he spoke, Flare, I have heard that king Osturlius did something horribly wrong, and that he died for it. I have also heard of a curse supposedly put on the elves, however I do not know what king Osturlius is supposed to have done, nor do I know why the curse was placed on the elves. Flare had stopped pacing, and was staring intently at Dagan. Perhaps, Flare, you can explain these things to me.

Actually the last thing he wanted to do was continue talking about these things, but he didn't see how to get out of it now. He had after all started the conversation. King Osturlius was away from Solistine, which was not unusual, since he was a member of the Dragon order. All I know is that something he did drastically offended the gods. A stone statue came alive in the elven temple, and spoke to a priest. It condemned the king's actions and pronounced a curse on all elves. King Osturlius was never heard from again, and it's still a mystery as to what happened to him.

Dagan nodded his head in agreement, That pretty much the same story that I have heard. I knew that a priest had said that the gods had placed a curse on the elves, but I did not know about the talking statue. Tell me, do you know if just the one priest saw the statue?

Flare shrugged his shoulders, I believe it was just the one priest, but remember that priest has been dead for a long time. Why do you ask? He returned to his seat as he asked the question.

Dagan bit his lip before continuing, I have a tendency to question things that are told to me. In this case, King Osturlius was condemned by the words of a single man, uh, in this instance, I guess he was condemned by the words of a single elf. He scratched his chin before continuing, It's not any more believable than the church saying that wizardry is a black art, if you can't give me an irrefutable reason, then I question it.

Don't you believe what I have told you, Flare asked. He felt somewhat offended.

I believe you told me the story as you heard it, but just because somebody tells me something does not mean I believe it. Stories and so called truths are affected by the people that tell them. The story you just related to me may have been changed over the years by the people telling it. Most of the time they don't mean to change the story, but their beliefs are involved whether they want them to be or not.

The two men sat there for several moments in silence, until Dagan spoke up, Tell me Flare, how long have you been practicing magic?

Dagan's words staggered Flare. How did he know? What did he know? He realized that his mouth was hanging open, and he shut it with an audible snap. Quickly, he said, What are you talking about? Then, trying to think fast, he added We were talking about my grandfather, not me.

The old sorcerer studied him for several moments, and Flare fought hard to match the man's gaze. Failing, he dropped his eyes to the floor, his pulse racing. Flare, I know you have been practicing magic. During the weeks of our training, I have touched your mind. Seeing the look of surprise that crossed his face, followed quickly by anger, Dagan quickly added, At first it was completely accidental, but what I saw when I touched your mind intrigued me. I can see your guilt over using magic, and actually that's what caught my attention first. Oh, by the way, one thing that sorcerers can do is tell when somebody is lying. Dagan smiled, as he continued in a quiet voice, Right now you are lying to me.

Flare could hear his heart beating loudly while he stood in front of Dagan's chair. When did he stand up? The last that he remembered, he had been sitting down in the chair. I suggest you not make accusations like that again, I am a prince of two realms after all. He said with all the authority he could muster. He knew it still came out sounding kind of weak.

Dagan waved a hand at him, Flare, I have no intention of publicly accusing you of anything. In fact, I agree with what you are doing. Like I have been telling you, I disagree with restrictions being placed on us because of what other people believe. All that people remember is the fall of king Osturlius and the Demon-Lord wars. They don't remember that before those events, the Dragon Order protected the innocent for thousands of years. A small laugh escaped him, and Flare almost echoed the laugh, but he knew that his laugh was because of panic. Flare, you are a free man, and you are entitled to pursue whatever you want to pursue, but if you are caught then you will suffer the consequences. However, I will not be the cause of you being found out.

Relief flooded over him like a wave. He probably shouldn't believe the old man, but he found himself hoping that the advisor wasn't lying. How do I know that you aren't lying, Flare asked.

Dagan smiled at him and leaned closer to Flare. Well, I guess you will just have to trust me, won't you.

Flare smiled in return, Or kill you.

The comment wiped the smile from Dagan for a moment, but then the smile came back bigger than before. He leaned forward, I do like that spirit, but I don't suggest you try it. Flare could hear the not so veiled threat in Dagan's words, and the words seemed full of power.

I don't plan to, but please don't betray my trust. He didn't add that the only reason he was trusting Dagan was that he had no choice, that was probably best left unsaid.

Don't worry my boy. I will not betray you.

Is there anybody else in the court that can do what you do? Flare asked.

No, there are no other sorcerers in the court, of that I am sure. I would have felt their presence. Dagan answered. So you don't have to worry about another sorcerer touching your mind like I did... Well, at least not in Telur.

Flare sat there quietly trying to think what he should do. He did not like anyone knowing about his secret magic use, but what could be done? Dagan apparently had known for some time and he still had not told anyone, perhaps he could be trusted. A thought occurred to him then, could you teach me to prevent a sorcerer from touching my mind the way you did?

Once again, Dagan smiled. Flare, warriors are not allowed to learn sorcery.

Flare returned the smile, Why are warriors not allowed to learn sorcery? He asked, in imitation of Dagan's earlier questions.

The smile faded from Dagan's face, as he studied Flare. I have no objections to teaching you, in fact I rather like doing things that I am not supposed to, but we will have to be careful. There are many people close to the throne who view you as a threat, and if the church found out that you were practicing magic and sorcery, then it would be a painful slow death for you, and probably me as well.

The words had a calming effect on Flare. He had always known that death was the punishment for learning magic, but he never expected to be caught, and he never expected to be tortured to death. Would the king allow the church to torture one of his sons to death? He asked of Dagan.

The king would have no choice. The church has tremendous influence over the people, and if the king refused to allow them to exercise the law on you, then he most likely would face a rebellion of the people. Flare, you do not understand how the church works. They have spies everywhere and even the nobles are scared of them. The church has always been miss-trustful of non-humans.

Flare realized that Dagan had not corrected him when he said 'one of the king's sons'. Just how much did he know? Did he suspect that the king was his actual father and not just his adopted father? He pushed that thought away for the time being, and turned his thought back to the church.

But Kara, she was the priestess in my squad, didn't seem to hate or mistrust me. Dagan's words made him doubt her, and he didn't like that at all. In fact, I would trust her with my life and actually she has saved my life before.

Dagan shook his head, Not all of the church believe as I have described, but the leadership does. The leadership is the group that establishes the beliefs and direction of the church. They may even be the minority, but the rest will follow their orders. Watch yourself around her, Flare. If the church hadn't taken notice of you before the king adopted you, they most certainly have since...

Aaron slowly walked the hawker's road toward the merchant quarter of town. His steps were dragging, and he wished he didn't have to make this trip. In the five weeks since their return from Mul-Dune, he had found a place for Elona to stay. It wasn't much, just a little bedroom over the stables of an inn, but it still cost him plenty. Unlike some, he didn't have the rich family to fall back on, so he alone had to bear the costs.

At first, Elona had been ecstatic, but that had passed quickly. Now, all she seemed to notice was the dust and noise that filtered in the lone foggy window. Once she had greeted him with smiles, but now she seemed to want to see him as little as he wanted to see her.

He was jolted out of his thoughts by a large travel stained man bumping into him. A head taller than Aaron, his clothes were coarse and covered in dust, and he had a scruffy beard that was matted.

Hey! Watch where yer going! The big man growled. His nose had been broken at least once before, and he wore a cudgel at his belt. The cudgel marked him as a guard or wagon driver, and he dropped his hand to rest on the handle. Aaron was wearing nice clothes and people often thought he was a man of means, but he never wore a uniform when he came to see Elona. The uniform caused the merchants to swarm around a man. Several of the big man's friends stood behind him with growing grins on their faces.

Perhaps the correct thing to do would simply have been mutter an apology and keep going, but he was not in a correct kind of mood. He drew his sword and set the tip in the dirt before him. The merchants and shoppers had created a little clearing around the men, giving them plenty of room. Some had stopped to watch and others had already started placing bets. Aaron said not a word as he stared back.

The big man got a good look at the sword that Aaron was holding. It wasn't a fancy sword that a merchant or lord would carry, instead it was a rugged sword that was worn from much use. A cudgel wasn't much good against that. He glanced up and caught sight of Aaron's eyes. They were cold and unflinching, just waiting.

Knowing he was in trouble, the man with the cudgel swallowed hard. He had puffed up thinking that the smaller man would run from the fight, but he hadn't. Now, he faced a fighting man who was better armed, so he did the smartest thing he could think of; he touched his right hand to his forehead and turned and walked quickly away.

Aaron watched the man walk away with a regret, which was quickly followed by guilt. Sheathing his sword, he knew that he shouldn't want to fight the man, and besides it wasn't even about the other man. It was really about Elona.

Sighing, he walked on. He had convinced a seamstress to take her on as an apprentice, but Elona had lasted only half a day. The girl had actually slapped a customer! Aaron shook his head just thinking about it. Then the girl had blamed it on him and said that she didn't want to be a seamstress, she wanted to be his wife. He cringed thinking about that. He liked Elona and all, but the last thing he wanted was a wife. She had seemed a sweet girl and he had genuinely wanted to help her escape her former life, but he didn't want the responsibility of taking care of her forever.

He turned onto the walkway that led to the inn and smiled as he noticed the inn keeper sweeping the front porch. The inn was called the Dragon's Fire and had been nice once. Now it was still nice if a little run down. The inn keeper, whose name was Davin, worked from sunup to sundown just to maintain its current condition.

Davin stopped sweeping as Aaron neared. A slim man in his middle years, he had bought the Dragon's Fire because he couldn't pass up the bargain, it hadn't taken long before he realized that he hadn't got the best end of that deal. His back ached as he straightened up from the sweeping; he had charged a little more to let the young girl stay, but then again he figured if the lordling wanted to keep his mistress set up then he should pay for it. Of course, discretion also cost money and what could he say since he didn't even know the lordling's name. He nodded to Aaron, "She's