Free Victory and Defeat: Book Five of the Restoration Series by Christopher Williams Page A

how I died?”
    Flare swallowed hard, suddenly unsure of whether he wanted to know or not. There was no way that he could say no, so he simply nodded.
    Byron pushed away from the door frame and stepped out into the open. “The truth will actually be good for you and it’s a great first lesson.” He motioned down at his body. “This is how I was when I died - past my youth but still an extremely dangerous swordsman. I was passing through a small village; I’m not even sure if it even had a name. Anyway, I stopped at the inn, ate dinner, and I was just leaving when a boy came at me with a sword. I drew mine and easily disarmed the runt, knocked the sword out of the boy’s hand and gave him a nasty cut in the process. He was just standing there wringing his hand, and I laughed at him. Then you know what I did? I turned my back on the boy and walked away.”
    So far the story didn’t sound too bad but Flare was sure there had to be more to it. Regardless, he couldn’t see any lesson in it for him. “So, what happened next?”
    “That boy picked up his sword with his left hand and ran me through the back.”
    Flare’s mouth dropped open. “You were killed by a boy?” That couldn’t be right. The stories had said he ’d died after being overwhelmed by fighters; he simply couldn’t believe that one boy had killed the greatest swordsman to have ever lived.
    “Yes, a boy killed me, but do you know why?” Byron didn’t wait for Flare’s answer but kept right on talking. “He knew who I was , and he wanted to kill one of the great swordsmen, and he did.”
    Flare’s forehead pulled down in confusion. “I don’t understand the lesson,” he said slowly.
    “The lesson is that I was the far superior swordsman and I should have won easily. I did win the fight without any problem, but he still killed me. He killed me because I underestimated him. I turned my back on the boy, and he won because of my pride. I knew there wasn’t any way for that boy to beat me, but he did. He beat me because I beat myself.” Byron took a deep breath. “If you learn nothing else from me, learn to never underestimate your opponent.”
    Flare nodded, reeling at the revelation of Byron’s final fight. If the story he had learned was wrong, could they all be wrong? That thought chilled him, frightened him. Everything he had ever learned about Kelcer was wrong, and the histories that he had been taught also appeared to be wrong. He began to wonder if anything he knew was actually correct.
    Byron stepped to Flare’s right, toward the empty animal pens. He motioned for Flare to follow and he didn’t wait to see if he would be obeyed. Mere moments later they rounded the edge of the cottage. Standing in the shadows was a wooden rack. The rack was loaded down with swords of all shapes and sizes. Roughly half of the swords were wooden. Byron picked out two wooden swords seemingly at random. Turning he tossed one to Flare, and then he moved out away from the cottage. “Time for your second lesson.”
     
    Flare broke back through the water and the heat descended on him, feeling like it was going to smother him. He glanced around at the location of the sun, but it was unnecessary; even though it seemed like he had spent decades in Sha’al, only a heartbeat had passed here. Everything was as when he had left.
    Standing up, Flare began to wade toward the shore. He slipped several times and once fell to his knees. Needless to say, he was pleased to finally step free of the water.
    As he got dressed, he felt the headache coming on. He wasn’t surprised by the headache; in fact, he had expected it. It seemed that trying to cram decades of memories into a heartbeat of time caused the worst imaginable headaches. Sighing, he reminded himself to try to avoid using sorcery for several days; the headaches would only intensify if he tried to control his spirit.

Chapter 7
     
    Flare had them break camp a little before sundown and they headed southwest