Into the Wastelands: Book Four of the Restoration Series by Christopher Williams Page B

it.”
    “It’s up to the Gods and not the Church,” Flare said with a shrug.
    Thomas snorted, “And you think Adel would want that Order restored?”
    Once again Flare shrugged, “Perhaps. We’ll see.”
    Thomas kneeled down next to Flare. “That sword isn’t the only weapon mentioned in the prophecy.”
    Confused, Flare didn’t respond. He just watched Thomas.
    “Kelcer also mentioned three other items that would mark the one who would restore the Order.” He poked Flare in the shoulder with a finger, “ B et you didn’t know that.”
    Flare shook his head, not sure if he even believed the monk, but thinking it best to play along. “What items?”
    Smirking now, Thomas leaned in even closer. “The helmet of Ashteroth is the first item, and it’s supposed to be a golden helmet.”
    Flare’s breath caught at that. Golden helmets were considered an abomination and no one would wear such a thing.
    “There’s also armor made from the skin of a black dragon. It’s called Nerandall, and it was lost millennia ago in the Faerum city of Saprasia , during the Third war of the Races. The last item is a dwarven shield called Ocklamoor and you never would have found it.” He poked Flare in the shoulder again, “So you see, the Church has had this planned out for quite some time. You were doomed to failure.”
    “Like I was when the Church agreed to send me after Ossendar?”
    The smirk disappeared from Thomas’ face. “Accidents happen,” he said through gritted teeth.
    “Well, maybe more accidents will happen,” Flare said. “It’s still a long way from here to Telur.”
    Thomas, still gritting his teeth, started to stand up . At that point, a rather interesting idea occurred to Flare and he acted without thinking of the consequences. He reached out to take control of his spirit, and thereby use sorcery. The pain set in immediately. There was a humorous moment where Thomas jumped forward, although Flare had no idea what the man meant to do, and then the blackness took him.
     
    When Flare awoke next, it felt like his whole body was resting in a furnace. Every square inch of his skin burned and he was afraid that he might be sick at any moment. He couldn’t focus his eyes and everything seemed to be swaying. It took a moment, but he finally realized that he was draped across Jordan ’s shoulder, as the soldier staggered along under Flare’s weight.
    Flare struggled to lift his head, causing shooting pains to run the length of his body.
    “Sir,” Jordan called out, “he’s awake.”
    Apparently, someone called a halt to their march, but Flare was too busy fighting the urge to vomit to pay much attention. After a few moments, Jordan lowered him to the ground and he lay there, gasping for breath.
    The sun was up, directly over them, and it seemed to be blindingly bright. Then, someone leaned over him and shielded him from the brightness of the sun. It was Thomas.
    “Nice trick, but it didn’t work.”
    Flare could hear the words but he couldn’t quite figure out what they meant. “Huh?” he finally managed to get out.
    “You used sorcery again, expecting that we would have to wait there while you recovered.” Thomas paused and studied Flare. “That was your plan, wasn’t it?”
    Thinking back, Flare couldn’t quite remember what his plan had been. All he could think about was the agony that was his skin.
    “Well, it doesn’t matter. Keep using the medallion, if you want to,” Thomas said with just a touch of bitterness. “Pass out all you want,” he leaned in closer, “regardless, we keep moving forward. If you die, then it will be on your own head and not mine.”
    Mercifully, the blackness chose that moment to once again come for Flare. He mercifully surrendered to it s warm embrace.
     
    Flare spent a couple of days flitting in and out of consciousness. At least he thought it was just several days, it might have been more. He awoke numerous times and his situation was always the same.