Valley of the Ancients: Book Three of the Restoration Series by Christopher Williams
Authors: Christopher Williams
Ads: Link
the spot he ultimately chose. One side was a ten foot tall outcropping of rock and the other side was a mess of fallen and half rotten trees. It appeared that a rock slide had made a huge wall of trees maybe ten feet from the outcropping. It was perfect, the outcropping of rock and trees would shield him from most of the wind and they would also hide a small fire.
The fire was the important thing, already the temperature was dropping and the sun wasn't even completely down. It was going to be a cold night.
Sighing, Flare dismounted and began the tiresome chore of setting up camp.
In the middle of the night, Flare lay asleep in his small blanket next to the fire. It was a light sleep, something to which most soldiers were accustomed. Since he was traveling alone, he had known that he would be vulnerable when he slept. Fortunately, he was able to put something that Dagan had taught him to good use. Before he went to sleep, he set wards around his camp. It was a simple enough thing for a sorcerer to do, even as poor a trained one as Flare.
The fire had all but died out, the remaining warmth coming from the glowing red and orange embers, when sf aomeone crossed one of his wards. His eyes popped open but he didn't move. Movement sometimes gave one away quicker than sounds.
Breathing silently, he closed his eyes and listened. Someone was approaching from behind him and seemed to be following the wall of trees. The wall did not run straight, but was more haphazard. Maybe ten yards to the south, the wall curved back around to the east. Whomever was approaching, could not yet see him or his fire.
Silently, Flare climbed to his feet and drew his sword. He backed up against the wall of trees and prepared to strike. The sounds he had heard did not sound like a full squad of soldiers, so it must be only a scout. He would have to take him out quickly and quietly.
His heart was beating quickly in his chest and he took several deep calming breaths.
Everything seemed to happen at once. A man rounded the curve of the trees and stopped, spotting the fire. The man was not a soldier; he was old with white shaggy hair and dark tanned skin. He wore a thick fur lined cloak and leaned on a staff. His clothes poked out from under the cloak and were made from deerskin. The staff seemed to be more for appearances as the old man gave the impression of immense vitality.
A tingle ran up Flare's spine and he knew something was wrong but it took several moments for him to discern what was bothering him. The old man had been silent in his movements and was, in fact, completely still now, but Flare could still hear the noises caused by someone or something shuffling through the brush.
For the briefest of moments, Flare thought the old man was leading a cow or another type of pack animal, it was the only reason for the immense amount of noise. But the noisemaker rounded the corner and turned out to be a young girl. The girl was maybe fifteen years old and slim. She had long brown hair and very pale skin; she might be cute one day, but now she still looked like a kid. She also carried a staff, but she held her staff with her right hand and balanced it on her shoulder. She seemed oblivious to her surroundings and nearly walked into the back of the old man when he stopped.
Whereas the old man moved silently, the girl seemed to step on every dry leaf and dead twig in her immediate vicinity. Flare could only imagine that she was trying to make that much noise.
The old man had spotted Flare, but he had not, as of yet, reacted.
The girl stopped, tensing up and then she too spotted Flare. "Get behind me, master." She shouted, pushing her way past the old man.
Flare blinked in surprise at the very idea of being attacked in such a manner. In other circumstances it would have been funny.
"Sadah, no!" The old man called out but the girl ignored him.
"Wait," Flare started to say, confused at exactly what was happening.
But the girl didn't wait. Sliding
The fire was the important thing, already the temperature was dropping and the sun wasn't even completely down. It was going to be a cold night.
Sighing, Flare dismounted and began the tiresome chore of setting up camp.
In the middle of the night, Flare lay asleep in his small blanket next to the fire. It was a light sleep, something to which most soldiers were accustomed. Since he was traveling alone, he had known that he would be vulnerable when he slept. Fortunately, he was able to put something that Dagan had taught him to good use. Before he went to sleep, he set wards around his camp. It was a simple enough thing for a sorcerer to do, even as poor a trained one as Flare.
The fire had all but died out, the remaining warmth coming from the glowing red and orange embers, when sf aomeone crossed one of his wards. His eyes popped open but he didn't move. Movement sometimes gave one away quicker than sounds.
Breathing silently, he closed his eyes and listened. Someone was approaching from behind him and seemed to be following the wall of trees. The wall did not run straight, but was more haphazard. Maybe ten yards to the south, the wall curved back around to the east. Whomever was approaching, could not yet see him or his fire.
Silently, Flare climbed to his feet and drew his sword. He backed up against the wall of trees and prepared to strike. The sounds he had heard did not sound like a full squad of soldiers, so it must be only a scout. He would have to take him out quickly and quietly.
His heart was beating quickly in his chest and he took several deep calming breaths.
Everything seemed to happen at once. A man rounded the curve of the trees and stopped, spotting the fire. The man was not a soldier; he was old with white shaggy hair and dark tanned skin. He wore a thick fur lined cloak and leaned on a staff. His clothes poked out from under the cloak and were made from deerskin. The staff seemed to be more for appearances as the old man gave the impression of immense vitality.
A tingle ran up Flare's spine and he knew something was wrong but it took several moments for him to discern what was bothering him. The old man had been silent in his movements and was, in fact, completely still now, but Flare could still hear the noises caused by someone or something shuffling through the brush.
For the briefest of moments, Flare thought the old man was leading a cow or another type of pack animal, it was the only reason for the immense amount of noise. But the noisemaker rounded the corner and turned out to be a young girl. The girl was maybe fifteen years old and slim. She had long brown hair and very pale skin; she might be cute one day, but now she still looked like a kid. She also carried a staff, but she held her staff with her right hand and balanced it on her shoulder. She seemed oblivious to her surroundings and nearly walked into the back of the old man when he stopped.
Whereas the old man moved silently, the girl seemed to step on every dry leaf and dead twig in her immediate vicinity. Flare could only imagine that she was trying to make that much noise.
The old man had spotted Flare, but he had not, as of yet, reacted.
The girl stopped, tensing up and then she too spotted Flare. "Get behind me, master." She shouted, pushing her way past the old man.
Flare blinked in surprise at the very idea of being attacked in such a manner. In other circumstances it would have been funny.
"Sadah, no!" The old man called out but the girl ignored him.
"Wait," Flare started to say, confused at exactly what was happening.
But the girl didn't wait. Sliding
Similar Books
