Ossendar: Book Two of the Resoration Series (71 page)

Something was definitely wrong. He could feel it, and Angaria was pushing for him to give up the sword. The Sword? Could there be someone in the column, waiting for him to draw the sword from its sheath? If so, what would happen then? Not quite sure why he did it, Flare changed the motion of his arm and stopped his hand at the clasp of the sheath strap. In one quick motion, he undid the clasp, and let the sheath and sword fall to the ground. There was a loud clank, and King Darion looked up. But the surest confirmation of his suspicions was the look of stunned outrage on Angaria's face.

Turning, Flare stomped from the room.

Flare was so angry it felt like he was on fire on the inside. The rage told him he had to do something, but he couldn't think of how to respond. It felt like he was numb, walking along with a ringing in his ears. On one hand, he didn't want to be the one prophesied about, but then again his own father had just betrayed him. It was the betrayal more than anything that made him want to strike out, to lash out at something, anything. Stomping down the hallway, he didn't even realize that Atock was still with him until he spoke.

“What just happened?”

Flare came to a sudden stop and stood there, blinking at Atock. “What? Oh, I don't know.” He practically growled the words at Atock. “The king has just betrayed me.” The words almost made him choke.

Atock pulled up and raised his hands in a calming manner. “I'm on your side.”

“I'm sorry. It's not your fault.” Flare shook his head, “He betrayed me.” He repeated quietly.

“What?” Atock said, plainly confused. “What did you say?”

Flare shook his head again, “Nothing. Listen I need to do something.” He nodded at Atock's head, “Why don't you go have that wound on your head looked at?”

Atock looked suspicious, “Are you sure?”

Flare grinned at his friend, some of the anger draining away and being replaced by a dull numbness. “Yeah. Go on.” After a moment he added, “I will see you later.”

Flare moved quickly through the hallways, heading towards Dagan's apartments. He tried to use the less traveled hallways and stay in the shadows. Whatever was going on, he didn't want to bring a bunch of trouble to Dagan's doorstep.

Several times, he noticed servants in the hallways, and quickly tried to use sorcery to hide himself from their view, or at the very least disguise his passing through. He was relieved that Dagan had his apartments is such a deserted part of the castle. As it wasn't long before he was away from the heavily populated areas. At last, he reached the doors to Dagan's apartments.

Looking around, he could not see anyone having followed him. But, just to be sure, he reached out with sorcery, trying to detect if anyone was nearby. There was one person inside Dagan's rooms; he assumed it would be the old man. Besides that person, there wasn't another person in this wing of the castle.

Flare raised his hand to knock on the door, but before he could land the first blow, the door was wrenched open. Dagan stood in the doorway, wearing a long sleeping shirt that came down past his knees. There was a wild look in his eyes, and Flare could sense the old man had gathered his spirit and was ready to strike.

'Fool!' Flare cursed at himself silently. If anyone could have detected his use of sorcery, it was of course Dagan. He raised his hands in a placating manner, “It's just me.”

The wild look disappeared from Dagan's eyes, and was quickly replaced by one of shock, followed closely by fear and suspicion. “What in the name of the gods are you doing here?”

Flare was somewhat taken aback. It was not the reception he had expected. “I just returned this morning, and by the way it's nice to see you too, you old goat.” He said the words with a smile, a smile he didn't really feel.

Dagan winced at Flare's words. “Sorry. Come on in and tell me all about it.” He turned and led Flare into the familiar room.

Flare stopped just inside the door, as a blast of hot air hit him. “Gods! Is it warm enough for you?” A roaring fire crackled in the fireplace. He started shedding his extra layers of clothes as he spoke. “Feels like the furniture should be on fire.”

Dagan grunted at the words, “Let's see how you like it when you are one hundred and twenty seven years old.”

Flare stopped in the very act of removing an extra shirt, “Are you really that old?”

Dagan nodded, “One of the side-affects of being a sorcerer. It can extend a person's life.” He moved over and sat down on a chair. “But tell me your story.” His eyes glinted with interest. “Did you get the sword?” The old man's breath caught as Flare nodded. “Where is it?”

Flare quickly told him of Darion betraying him by taking the sword.

The old man grunted, “You didn't actually expect him to let you keep it. Did you?”

“Why not?” Flare demanded, “He said he would.”

Dagan regarded him for a moment, studying him. “Well, for one thing, the church would not let it happen.”

“But the church approved before the mission.” Flare interjected angrily. “Olliston himself approved.” He moved to the unoccupied couch and sat down. The sweat was running down his face and back.

“I'm sure they did.” Dagan said smoothly, “But I don't think they expected you to actually make it back with the sword. And if you were to make it back, then they would force the king to take it from you.”

“You think the church did this?” Flare asked, his anger forgotten for the moment. “How could the church force the king to do something he didn't want to do?”

“Don't be naive. You know about the armies to the south and east.”

“Yes, but what does that have to do with the church?” Flare asked.

Dagan scratched his nose as he answered, “The church has a lot of influence with the countries and soldiers that are about to attack. Influence that they could certainly hold over Darion.”

A sudden insight occurred to Flare. “Did the church have anything to do with Barrett being named crown prince?”

Dagan shrugged, “I do not know for sure, of course, but I would be willing to lay money on it.” He smiled a rueful smile. “And there's more. Ontaria has made a marriage proposal to King Darion. They want Prince Barrett to marry the second daughter of King Brayton.”

Flare was confused, “I don't understand that. Why marry a princess to the prince of a kingdom you are about to conquer?”

Dagan leaned forward, smirking. “Because, they must believe that Barrett will be sympathetic to their point of view. And they could tie Telur to Ontaria with the marriage. Then Ontaria sits on the sideline while Telur weakens itself fighting the eastern countries. If Telur loses the battle, then the army of Ontaria can rush across the border and claim a lot of territory. Even if Telur were to win, we would be weakened, and Ontaria would have the upper hand. They win either way.”

Flare leaned back on the couch. It made sense, what Dagan was saying, all but one thing. “But how does the sword tie in with Barrett? Ontaria would want him as a weak ruler, as a puppet king.”

“Yes they would, but neither the church nor Ontaria wants the Dragon Order restored. My guess is that Olliston is behind all of this, and he doesn't want you to have the sword, so he is requiring the sword be given to Barrett.” He paused for just a moment, “Oh and it doesn't hurt that Barrett is a fervent supporter of the church. I'm guessing that he will quickly turn it over to them.”

After stopping to get a healing salve applied to his left shoulder, Flare spent the rest of the day in his assigned quarters. Even in his almost two month absence, the maids had kept the rooms cleaned. The sheets and blankets were freshly laundered and the bed recently remade. He barely noticed as he flopped out across the bed, lost in his angry and depressed thoughts.

He lay on the bed for hours, arguing with himself as to what he should do. There was a voice that cried within to leave and do it soon, but that seemed too much like defeat. He had won the battles and his own father was trying to take that away.

Several times, move vengeful voices spoke to him, but he quickly forced them away. It did no good to lose oneself in useless fantasies.

He didn't eat all day long, his appetite having deserted him. Although he did get up several times to use the chamber pot. But he always returned quickly to the bed.

A small voice in his head told him he was sulking, but he refused to listen. He wasn't sulking at all; instead he was busy trying to decide what to do. But in the end, it always came back to the same thing. He had won the blade, and it belonged to him. He sat up, jerked from his wandering by that very formidable thought. The blade was his, and he had to get it back, but how?

He lay back down. How to get the sword back? Even if Darion did not expect him to do something, Angaria probably would.

Flare was still scheming, when sleep overtook him.

Flare woke to a knocking at his door. His whole body ached, and his head seemed fuzzy. “Huh?” He managed to get out in a groggy voice. There was a sound of a key in the door, and then it opened slightly. He sat up, immediately alert. Who was entering his room?

A young woman's head poked in, and her eyes widened. She dropped her eyes to the ground. “I'm sorry to bother you my prince, but King Darion wants you at dinner tonight. It will be in an hour in the main dining room.”

He didn't recognize the girl, but it didn't really matter, she was obviously a servant. He let himself fall back to the bed, “I'm not going.” He grumbled.

“Uh,” The girl started, sounding undecided on how to proceed. “I was told to tell you that the king insists that you join them.”

Sighing, Flare pushed himself back up. “I don't suppose that I have any clean clothes. Do I?” He dreaded spending dinner with a bunch of boring nobles, or worse Barrett, but the king was to be obeyed. And with that, another thought popped into his head. Was the king to be obeyed? Without question?

The girl smiled, relieved. “Yes sir, you do. I'll set them out for you.”

Flare entered the main dining room just under an hour later. It seemed that almost every noble in Telur was in attendance, all of them dressed in their finest. Three long tables ran the length of the hall, and a much shorter table ran the width of the hall at the far end of the room. The short table was slightly elevated, and obviously was meant for the king. Most of the chairs around the three tables were already occupied, but none of those at the short table had occupants. This was even worse than he had feared. All of these nobles, and every one of them stared as he entered the hall.

“May I lead you to your seat, my lord?” A young man asked.

Flare only inclined his head, and the young servant led off to the left of the three tables. Servants scurried in and out of the main tables, some filling goblets, and others setting plates and bowls of food onto the table. No one was eating, as the king had not yet arrived. Heads followed his progress around the room, and a quiet buzz of conversation broke out amongst the nobles.

“Here we are, Prince Flaranthlas.”

The servant stopped behind an empty chair, and Flare was immensely relieved to see Atock sitting to his right, and Prince Danal on his left. Perhaps this wasn't to be so bad after all.

“Flare!” Danal exclaimed. “I didn't know you were back. It's good to see you again.”

Flare smiled warmly at the young man, he actually believed that the prince was glad to see him.

Abruptly, the conversation cut off, and music started from somewhere that Flare couldn't see. Everyone rose to their feet, and Danal quickly motioned for Flare to join them, which he did grumbling. After all, he had just sat down.

King Darion strode into the hall from a side door, and another man walked beside the king. He was a big man with thin graying hair and an oversized nose. He walked as if he was the king.

“Who is that?” Flare asked without thinking.

“That's King Brayton of Ontaria.” Danal said. “And that's his daughter just behind him. Her name is Emily.”

Flare leaned back a little to get a better view of the young woman. Woman, she looked more like a girl. She couldn't be more than thirteen or so. She was thin, and she didn't look like she had blossomed yet into womanhood. She still had the appearance of a young boy, except the long brown hair that was pulled back into a long pony tail.

“Is she the one that Barrett is marrying?”

Danal eyes widened, “I didn't think anyone knew yet. I just found out last night myself.” The smile faded from his lips, “We have to do something or Telur will be overrun.”

King Darion and King Brayton led the nobles to the short table. Flare was disgusted to see Angaria and Barrett amongst the important nobles that sat with the king. At a sign from King Darion, he and King Brayton sat at the same time, and the other nobles at the shorter table followed suit. Then, all the rest of them were allowed to seat.

Flare could see Barrett and Angaria smirking at him from their seats at the main table, but he chose to ignore them. There was one thing about the kings leading their parties to the main table; the nobles in the crowd were no longer staring at Flare.

King Darion waited until everyone was seated, and then he rose again to his feet. He smiled around the room, “I know that each of you are curious as to the reason that we have assembled here tonight. I assure you that it is not just for the food.” Several people chuckled at the king's poor attempt at a joke, but most just waited for him to continue. “It is with great pleasure that I announce the engagement of Prince Barrett to the Princess Emily of Ontaria.” There was a collective gasp amongst the gathered Telurian nobles, but Darion continued quickly. “In addition to the engagement, we have signed a treaty with Ontaria, and we welcome them now to our tables as brothers.” He lifted his goblet and held above his head. “Join me in a toast to our new brothers to the south.”