Valley of the Ancients: Book Three of the Restoration Series by Christopher Williams Page A
Authors: Christopher Williams
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to a stop in front of him, she whipped out with the staff. She moved it blindingly fast and too late Flare realized the staff was for protection and not to lean on. The end caught him on the right wrist and his whole forearm went numb and his sword flew from his hand. She reversed her swing and caught him in the stomach.
He crumpled to his knees, as the girl raised her staff for another blow. Anger swelled up in him then, anger and frustration both. An immense pressure was building up in his chest and it felt like it mucinst explode. He channeled that anger and used his spirit like Dagan had taught him. Directing his spirit outward, he grabbed the staff, wrenching it from the girl's hands as she tried to swing at his head.
The girl slipped and fell to one knee in surprise. The staff hung unsupported in the air halfway between her and Flare. She couldn't know that he had used sorcery to take it away from her.
Still on his knees, Flare directed his spirit and the staff smacked the girl's shin. She gasped in pain and grabbed her leg.
Feeling a little guilty at hitting the girl so hard, he directed the staff to push her over, but a little more gently. She hit the ground and lay there, both hands on her leg.
Flare turned his attention to the old man, the staff moving over to hang in the air between them. His sword, Ossendar, flew through the air at the same time. Catching the blade with his uninjured left hand, he pushed himself to his feet, still watching the other man.
The old man was still standing in the same spot but he had shifted his position into a fighting stance and one of the ends of the staff was pointed directly at Flare.
"Why did you attack me?" Flare asked. His voice sounded hallow in his own ears. The feeling that he might explode was gone, but there was still an overwhelming sense of power, more power than he had ever felt using sorcery. Oh, it had been too long since the last time he had embraced his spirit.
The old man lowered his staff and rested one end on the ground. He bowed his head momentarily, "My apologies but my pupil is extremely rash. She thinks she is my protector, when in fact, I must strive to keep her out of trouble."
Flare glanced down at the girl, who had pushed herself into a sitting position. She was glaring up at him, a dangerous look on her face. "I believe you," he said to the old man, "she looks to be a dangerous one." With that, Flare let the staff fall to the ground and released his hold on his spirit. Immediately, the soreness and exhaustion rolled back over him and he sagged under the weight of it all.
"My name is Abner," the man motioned to the young girl, "my pupil's name is Sadah." He still watched Flare closely. "You carry a sword and yet you use sorcery?" He spoke quietly.
Cursing silently, Flare tightened his grip on his sword. He hadn't thought these two would know sorcery, not in the mountains, but he had. Abner also knew that a swordsman should not be able to do what Flare had just done. Several things occurred to him at that moment, lying, denying, or running, but he dismissed them. He was through with denying himself. "My name is Flaranthlas Eldanari. I am descended from the last member of the Dragon Order, and I carry Ossendar, which marks me as the next member of the Order."
For a moment no one said anything. Flare glanced from Abner to the girl and then quickly back. The girl was staring at him like he had just grown a third arm or something. Her mouth was hanging open and she seemed to have forgotten about her sore leg.
The old man was studying him intently, but he seemed the less shocked of the two. Flare decided he was the one to watch.
Flare wasn't sure what to expect. It was a rather profound pronouncement to blurt out like he had. Sadah was obviously dumbstruck but Abner seemed more thoughtful than scared.
"Are you now?" Abner asked, still watching Flare closely. "That sword is Ossendar?"
Flare's forehead creased in confusion, it was not exactly the
He crumpled to his knees, as the girl raised her staff for another blow. Anger swelled up in him then, anger and frustration both. An immense pressure was building up in his chest and it felt like it mucinst explode. He channeled that anger and used his spirit like Dagan had taught him. Directing his spirit outward, he grabbed the staff, wrenching it from the girl's hands as she tried to swing at his head.
The girl slipped and fell to one knee in surprise. The staff hung unsupported in the air halfway between her and Flare. She couldn't know that he had used sorcery to take it away from her.
Still on his knees, Flare directed his spirit and the staff smacked the girl's shin. She gasped in pain and grabbed her leg.
Feeling a little guilty at hitting the girl so hard, he directed the staff to push her over, but a little more gently. She hit the ground and lay there, both hands on her leg.
Flare turned his attention to the old man, the staff moving over to hang in the air between them. His sword, Ossendar, flew through the air at the same time. Catching the blade with his uninjured left hand, he pushed himself to his feet, still watching the other man.
The old man was still standing in the same spot but he had shifted his position into a fighting stance and one of the ends of the staff was pointed directly at Flare.
"Why did you attack me?" Flare asked. His voice sounded hallow in his own ears. The feeling that he might explode was gone, but there was still an overwhelming sense of power, more power than he had ever felt using sorcery. Oh, it had been too long since the last time he had embraced his spirit.
The old man lowered his staff and rested one end on the ground. He bowed his head momentarily, "My apologies but my pupil is extremely rash. She thinks she is my protector, when in fact, I must strive to keep her out of trouble."
Flare glanced down at the girl, who had pushed herself into a sitting position. She was glaring up at him, a dangerous look on her face. "I believe you," he said to the old man, "she looks to be a dangerous one." With that, Flare let the staff fall to the ground and released his hold on his spirit. Immediately, the soreness and exhaustion rolled back over him and he sagged under the weight of it all.
"My name is Abner," the man motioned to the young girl, "my pupil's name is Sadah." He still watched Flare closely. "You carry a sword and yet you use sorcery?" He spoke quietly.
Cursing silently, Flare tightened his grip on his sword. He hadn't thought these two would know sorcery, not in the mountains, but he had. Abner also knew that a swordsman should not be able to do what Flare had just done. Several things occurred to him at that moment, lying, denying, or running, but he dismissed them. He was through with denying himself. "My name is Flaranthlas Eldanari. I am descended from the last member of the Dragon Order, and I carry Ossendar, which marks me as the next member of the Order."
For a moment no one said anything. Flare glanced from Abner to the girl and then quickly back. The girl was staring at him like he had just grown a third arm or something. Her mouth was hanging open and she seemed to have forgotten about her sore leg.
The old man was studying him intently, but he seemed the less shocked of the two. Flare decided he was the one to watch.
Flare wasn't sure what to expect. It was a rather profound pronouncement to blurt out like he had. Sadah was obviously dumbstruck but Abner seemed more thoughtful than scared.
"Are you now?" Abner asked, still watching Flare closely. "That sword is Ossendar?"
Flare's forehead creased in confusion, it was not exactly the
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