Valley of the Ancients: Book Three of the Restoration Series by Christopher Williams Page A
Authors: Christopher Williams
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answered, shaking his head.
"That's not what I asked," Derek replied coolly. "Do you know why he wants to speak with us?"
"Even if I did, it is not my place to tell you." Gilbert's smile had slipped and he looked a little less pleasant. "Please accept our hospitality for a week or so. You could use the rest while you wait. Once the Master has spoken with you, then you can be on your way."
Derek didn't answer. He didn't like this at all, even despite Gilbert reassurances. For the time being, it seemed that the only thing they could do was wait. There might come a time when that would change, but in the mean time, he was looking forward to catching up on his rest.
The sun was going down as Thomas approached the cliff. He had been searching farther to the south when word reached him that Prince Flaranthlas' horse had been found. He had rushed northward with all possible haste, but still the trip had taken nearly a day and a half.
A small group of soldiers were gathered, waiting for him. They watched him approach uneasily. They didn't like him but he simply didn't care. Plain and simple, they were scared of him and they had good reason to be. The Church had sent him here to track thv he half-elven bastard for the very same reason that these men feared him so much.
He stopped maybe five feet from the soldiers. There were three common soldiers and one man whose armor marked him as an officer. Thomas had seven men with him and he could hear them spreading out behind him, making a semicircle. He watched the soldiers, pulling aside his purple cloak to rest his hand on the hilt of his sword. "Well?" he asked after a moment.
"My, my Lord." The officer stammered. "We tracked him to this spot, but then he seems to have disappeared. I have men searching to the north and south. He's out here somewhere and we'll find him." The officer was young but he already had several visible scars that betrayed his experience in defense of Telur.
Thomas sighed, hating what he had to do. He motioned his hand and his men sprang forward. The soldiers were slow in realizing they were being attacked and only two of them managed to draw their swords. The fight was over in moments.
Turning his back on the bloody mess that had just been four soldiers, Thomas rested his hand on the handle of his sword, and then he closed his eyes while he quietly cast a spell. Almost immediately, he turned, looking past the dead soldiers. To his eyes, there were red footprints across the rocks and stones. The footprints headed to a large fissure that ran up the side of the mountain.
Thomas began forward, pausing by the dead soldiers. "I'm sorry," he said quietly and it was true. He hated to have to kill these men, but they couldn't be allowed to spread rumors about the kinds of things that he could do. His abilities were quietly condoned by the Church, all the while they were condemned publicly.
Chapter 6
Atock followed Dagan through the inn's doors and up the stairs. No one turned to look at them or seemed to even notice their passing, not even the little old man behind the front desk. Even though he knew it was Dagan's use of sorcery that seemed to make them invisible, it still made Atock uncomfortable. Something about it just didn't seem right. Perhaps it was just a warrior's distrust of anything supernatural.
Dagan and Cassandra had initially entered the small inn and secured two rooms for them while Atock had seen to the wagon and horses. The old sorcerer had waited on him while Cassandra had disappeared upstairs.
Reaching the second floor, they turned right and headed down the long hallway. "First two on the left are ours," Dagan said, motioning in the general direction of the closed doors.
"And where are our friends?"
"I believe they are farther down the hall."
As if on cue, a door on the right side of the hall opened just a hair and a one eyeball peeped out. Then the door was yanked open and Heather's relieved face grinned at them from the doorway.
"That's not what I asked," Derek replied coolly. "Do you know why he wants to speak with us?"
"Even if I did, it is not my place to tell you." Gilbert's smile had slipped and he looked a little less pleasant. "Please accept our hospitality for a week or so. You could use the rest while you wait. Once the Master has spoken with you, then you can be on your way."
Derek didn't answer. He didn't like this at all, even despite Gilbert reassurances. For the time being, it seemed that the only thing they could do was wait. There might come a time when that would change, but in the mean time, he was looking forward to catching up on his rest.
The sun was going down as Thomas approached the cliff. He had been searching farther to the south when word reached him that Prince Flaranthlas' horse had been found. He had rushed northward with all possible haste, but still the trip had taken nearly a day and a half.
A small group of soldiers were gathered, waiting for him. They watched him approach uneasily. They didn't like him but he simply didn't care. Plain and simple, they were scared of him and they had good reason to be. The Church had sent him here to track thv he half-elven bastard for the very same reason that these men feared him so much.
He stopped maybe five feet from the soldiers. There were three common soldiers and one man whose armor marked him as an officer. Thomas had seven men with him and he could hear them spreading out behind him, making a semicircle. He watched the soldiers, pulling aside his purple cloak to rest his hand on the hilt of his sword. "Well?" he asked after a moment.
"My, my Lord." The officer stammered. "We tracked him to this spot, but then he seems to have disappeared. I have men searching to the north and south. He's out here somewhere and we'll find him." The officer was young but he already had several visible scars that betrayed his experience in defense of Telur.
Thomas sighed, hating what he had to do. He motioned his hand and his men sprang forward. The soldiers were slow in realizing they were being attacked and only two of them managed to draw their swords. The fight was over in moments.
Turning his back on the bloody mess that had just been four soldiers, Thomas rested his hand on the handle of his sword, and then he closed his eyes while he quietly cast a spell. Almost immediately, he turned, looking past the dead soldiers. To his eyes, there were red footprints across the rocks and stones. The footprints headed to a large fissure that ran up the side of the mountain.
Thomas began forward, pausing by the dead soldiers. "I'm sorry," he said quietly and it was true. He hated to have to kill these men, but they couldn't be allowed to spread rumors about the kinds of things that he could do. His abilities were quietly condoned by the Church, all the while they were condemned publicly.
Chapter 6
Atock followed Dagan through the inn's doors and up the stairs. No one turned to look at them or seemed to even notice their passing, not even the little old man behind the front desk. Even though he knew it was Dagan's use of sorcery that seemed to make them invisible, it still made Atock uncomfortable. Something about it just didn't seem right. Perhaps it was just a warrior's distrust of anything supernatural.
Dagan and Cassandra had initially entered the small inn and secured two rooms for them while Atock had seen to the wagon and horses. The old sorcerer had waited on him while Cassandra had disappeared upstairs.
Reaching the second floor, they turned right and headed down the long hallway. "First two on the left are ours," Dagan said, motioning in the general direction of the closed doors.
"And where are our friends?"
"I believe they are farther down the hall."
As if on cue, a door on the right side of the hall opened just a hair and a one eyeball peeped out. Then the door was yanked open and Heather's relieved face grinned at them from the doorway.
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