A Gathering of Armies

by Christopher Williams

  Flare shrugged. “Doesn’t matter, whichever you don’t want.”

  “I’ll take the second,” Keenan replied. “How much longer until we reach the city?”

  “Several more days,” Flare said, shrugging. “Perhaps a few more. We will be intercepted before then.”

  “Elven soldiers?”

  Flare grinned. Elven soldiers made him think of humans in armor. And while the elves wore armor, it was normally the lighter more flexible leather than heavy plate mail. “There are many Elven patrols in the forest, but I wouldn’t exactly call them soldiers, they’re more like Rangers.”

  Keenan nodded. “And when will they spot us?”

  Flare didn’t answer immediately, thinking how best he should phrase his answer. “Actually, they spotted us a couple days ago. Almost as soon as we entered the forest.”

  “What?” Keenan demanded. “You saw them and didn’t say anything?”

  Flare shrugged. “I didn’t exactly see them, but I know they’re there. They’re following us – still trying to determine what we’re doing.”

  “And when they do? When they decide were headed to the city?”

  “Well, I guess they’ll stop us,” Flare said.

  “Stop us?” Keenan looked uncomfortable with the choice of words. “Will they attack us?”

  Flare considered. “Only if we resist them.” He grinned at the confused look on Keenan’s face. “Don’t worry. I expected the Elven Guard to find us, and I’m expecting them to take us to the city.”

  Keenan still looked troubled, but he remained silent.

  “Trust me, there was no chance of us reaching Solistine without being caught.”

  Silence settled in between the two men, as they both stared into the flames. They continued without speaking for about half an hour, then Keenan stretched and stood up. “I’m going to sleep. Wake me when it’s my turn to stand guard.”

  Flare watched Keenan climb into his blankets. Within moments the man’s breathing became slow and steady. Flare shook his head, wondering how so many lives had become dependent on him. He couldn’t imagine failing in his task and having all those deaths laid at his feet. He knew the price of failure. If he failed, then Telur would fall, as would the Elven kingdom. He knew it wouldn’t be the ultimate victory for evil, as the battle between good and evil was constantly being fought; sometimes good would win and sometimes evil won. But as soon as one battle was over, a new one began.

  Flare shook his head, pushing the dark thoughts away. He climbed to his feet and moved to the edge of the small clearing where they had made their camp. He stared out into the dark forest. He always loved the woods at night, and he found it relaxing; something about the sounds of the night always soothed him.

  As he stared out into the darkness, he wondered why the Elven Guard had not already stopped them. He had expected no more than one or two days of wandering in the forest before meeting the Guard, and they had just finished their third day. Perhaps the guard leader had recognized him, and had been hesitant to intervene. It seemed unlikely, but still possible.

  He moved farther away from the fire, letting the night shadows overtake him. His black armor made him almost invisible in the darkness.

  He moved silently, making absolutely no sound. He stopped several times, listening to make sure the night sounds didn’t change. He moved further back into the trees, finally coming to a tree that suited his purposes. The tree had many branches at varying heights, making it easy to climb.

  Flare climbed the tree, quickly reaching a height that seemed a little unsafe. He wrapped one arm around the tree trunk, as the whole tree swayed in the breeze. From this height, he had a fairly good view of their campsite and the surrounding area. He stood there for over an hour, barely moving and making no sound. The only thing he moved was his eyes – searching for any sign of movement. He saw nothing. Finally, he gave up the search and descended the tree, dropping the last few feet to land on the soft ground.

  No sooner had his feet touched the ground, then a strange sensation settled over him. A feeling of need, a feeling of hunger. He knew what that feeling meant – it was time to return to Sha’al.

  Sha’al was a realm of the dead. It was a place where restless spirits sometimes went before they moved on. It also was how members of the Dragon Order were trained. A mortal simply did not live long enough to complete all the necessary training that being a member of the Dragon Order required. This dilemma was solved by traveling to Sha’al to train with long dead Masters. These masters were the greatest at their craft, and they trained Dragon Order members in their various arts. A student could spend centuries in Sha’al, and then return to find that only several heartbeats had passed. Flare had been to Sha’al several times, and each time had studied a different art. It seemed it was time to go again.

  Flare slowly retraced his steps back to the campsite. Keenan was asleep and the fire was almost out. He felt it safe enough to make the short hike toward a small stream they had crossed earlier in the evening.

  Traveling to Sha’al was easy. Once the need had reappeared, all Flare had to do was to completely submerge his body in water.

  He wondered what art he would study this time, and what ancient instructor would tutor him. Most of his previous instructors were completely unknown to him. There had been a time when those very same instructors had been famous, but that had been so long ago that their names had been lost to history.

  It took less than ten minutes to reach the small stream, and Flare wasted no time in finding a section that was waist deep. He left his armor and weapons on and strode down the bank and into the water. He took a deep breath and pulled his feet up under him, allowing his body to sink into the water.

  As he always did, Flare held his breath and rested submerged under the water. The first several times he had traveled to Sha’al, he had been nervous and afraid. The first time he had even considered not going. But as with most things, repetition removed the anxiety. The anxiety that he felt now was simply about which art he would study, and which ancient master would instruct him.

  His lungs began to hurt so Flare pressed his feet against the creek bed and pushed up.

  He broke through the surface and rubbed the water from his eyes. He looked around quickly, as always amazed at how quickly his surroundings had changed.

  The Elven forests were long gone, and he now floated in a pool of water. His surroundings were strange to his eyes, an environment he’d never seen before.

  The small, circular pool was surrounded by rocky, naturally-formed walls that stretched upward. The pool was in a sunken area, like a well, but Flare could see the bright, blue sky high up, through the opening of the small pit.

  On one side of the pool was a low shelf and Flare swam over and climbed out of the water. Standing on the shelf, he looked around, looking for anything that indicated the pool was man-made. There was nothing, the pool looked to be naturally formed. A low tunnel sloped up from the shelf, and it appeared to be the only way up, unless he wanted to climb the walls.

  Since it was his only option, Flare began to follow the small tunnel. In some places the tunnel was so low that Flare had to get down on his hands and knees to get through. Finally, the tunnel widened into a large, cavern-room. Several other tunnels emptied into this room as well. The only sign that man had ever been here was the stone steps that led up the last fifteen feet to an opening.

  For a moment, Flare considered the other tunnels. He didn’t think there was anything here that could hurt him, but he was hesitant to go back down into the earth. He rather fancied taking a look at the surface.

  With his mind made up, Flare crossed the small cavern and climbed the steps to the surface. He was not prepared for what he saw. The steps led up to a small flat area that sat in the shadow of a large rock. From here he had a good view of the surrounding area, and he had never seen anything like it. As far as he could see was nothing but rolling hills of sand. He had heard of deserts before, they had been des
cribed to him, but the images of his imagination had not even begun to come close.

  In the several moments that Flare stood there, he felt his clothes drying as the water was sucked out of them. The heat was nearly intolerable, and that was as he stood in the shade. The only way he could imagine traveling in this barren wasteland was at night, and he was afraid of being caught out when the sun came up.

  At a loss as to what he should do, Flare decided to retreat down the steps, at least until the sun went down.

  Always before it’d been easy to find the ancient master. Surely he wouldn’t have to cross the desert.

  He stepped off of the last step and pulled up short – he was no longer alone. Two people stood in the cavern-like room at the bottom steps. An ancient-looking, wizened old man leaned heavily on a staff. He wore thick, brown robes that covered him from his neck to the ground. He was short with his body stooped over at a weird angle. His beard was white and hung down to his belt. Long, silky-white hair hung down past his shoulders. Despite the appearance of old-age, the man’s sharp blue eyes seemed to measure and weigh Flare.

  The second figure standing there was as different from the old man as possible. It was a beautiful woman who appeared to be about thirty years of age. She had long, black hair that hung down to her waist. She was slim but there was a cruel set to her eyes. She watched Flare like a bird watches a bug.

  Flare was a bit surprised. He had been to Sha’al before, but never had he had two ancient Masters teach him at the same time.

  “Well met! My name is Gaston of Gawia,” the little old man said. “What is your name?”

  “My name is Flaranthlas, but I’m called Flare.”

  Gaston nodded. “Do you recognize my name?”

  Flare shook his head. “No. I’m sorry, but I don’t.”

  Gaston nodded his head again. “It’s been a long time since anyone has recognized me. I am a master magician, and I will oversee your education in magic.”

  “And you are?” Flare asked, looking at the woman.

  “My name is Serena,” the woman said. She had a sour look about her. It reminded Flare of a woman who was used to getting her way and who felt that nothing was ever good enough.

  “Ah, yes,” Gaston said. “Serena and I will both be teaching you magic.” Now he also looked displeased and he cast a sideways glance at the woman. “We will teach you different sides of the same magic.”

  “Two sides?” Flare repeated dully. “I’m not sure what that means.”

  “He’ll teach you the accepted way of doing things,” Serena said. She was now smiling wolfishly. “I’ll teach you how to do things the,” she paused, as if searching for the right word.

  It was Gaston who finished her sentence for her. “She’ll teach you the wrong way to do things.”

  “Wrong?” Flare asked, still unsure exactly what they meant. “What do you mean wrong?”

  Serena huffed. “What he means, but can’t figure out how to say, is that he,” she pointed a finger at Gaston, “and others like him, disapproved of my methods.”

  “Your methods are evil!” Gaston said, talking right over Serena.

  Serena paused for a moment, but refused to look at Gaston. “My methods are effective but they are not for everyone.”

  Flare pulled his eyes from Serena’s beautiful face and looked to Gaston. “Why am I to be instructed by someone you consider evil?”

  Gaston nodded. “A fair question. Come, walk with me and I will try and answer it.” He turned and began to slowly hobble toward one of the tunnels.

  Flare looked to Serena but she held a hand up indicating that he should go ahead of her. To tell the truth, Flare didn’t much like having the woman at his back, but he dutifully hurried to catch up to the old mage.

  “When I was alive,” Gaston was saying, “I was one of the most powerful magicians in remembered history.” He said the words not in a bragging manner, but as a statement of pure fact. “I was the archmage for nearly five hundred years.” He paused, stopping and glancing to Flare. “Are you familiar with the term archmage?” Flare shook his head and Gaston continued. “As archmage, I was the leader of every established magic school and my word was law in regards to magic.”

  “I’m sorry,” Flare said slowly, “did you say five hundred years?” It had taken a moment for the meaning of the words to penetrate his numbed mind. The old man looked human, but humans simply didn’t live that long.

  “Yes,” Gaston said and his face lit up in a smile. “Through the use of my magic, I was able to extend my lifespan. I lived for just over a thousand years.”

  Flare was impressed. Gaston must be powerful indeed to extend his lifespan that long.

  Serena huffed again. She had trailed along behind them – too close for Flare’s comfort. “Only a thousand,” she said. “That’s nothing. I lived for nearly twenty-three hundred years. That’s more than twice as long as you.”

  Gaston stopped suddenly and whirled around to face Serena. “True, but your methods were vile.”

  Serena winked at Flare, who had moved to the side of the tunnel to get out from between the two mages. “My methods may have been vile, but they were effective, nevertheless.”

  Gaston sighed loudly, and turned back to continue his slow walk down the tunnel.

  “Is that true?” Flare asked. “Did she live twenty-three hundred years?”

  After a brief pause, Gaston nodded. “She did. And she might still be alive now if the magicians of her time hadn’t hunted her down and killed her.”

  Flare glanced back to Serena, who smiled and nodded at him. He turned back to Gaston. “So I repeat my earlier question – what am I supposed to learn from her?”

  “You have to understand evil in order to fight against it. Her spirit was summoned by a powerful wizard millennia ago and connected to me. When I am summoned here, so is she. She will teach you the easy way to do things and why it must be avoided.”

  “I still don’t understand,” Flare said. “If her ways were so much more effective. What was so terrible about them?”

  “The spell she used to extend her life required her to steal another’s life force,” Gaston said.

  The words made a shiver run up and down Flare’s back. Steal another’s life force? That was very similar to something wizards could do, but it was his understanding that it was only done to the condemned.

  “When she was young,” Gaston continued, “she could make do with sacrificing a person every decade or so. As she got older, the spell became less effective and she began killing to stay young yearly. Eventually she was killing monthly. If she hadn’t been stopped, I can easily envision a time when she would have killed before breakfast, another at lunch, and again before bed.”

  “Perhaps,” Serena said, “but we’ll never know, will we?” There was a touch of anger to her words. “Perhaps I would have found a way to strengthen the spell, or maybe an entirely different way, but now we’ll never know.”

  Flare was horrified at having such a teacher. “And you think she can teach me – what? How not to kill to stay alive?”

  “We all kill to stay alive,” Serena said. “Whether it’s with a spell or a sword, what does it matter?”

  “There’s a difference,” Flare replied, starting to get angry now. “I don’t kill the innocent.”

  “No one is innocent,” Serena said quietly.

  “Enough,” Gaston snapped, pulling Flare’s attention back to him.

  Flare stopped in his tracks. He had been horrified to hear the manner of teacher he was to have, and he had not been watching his surroundings.

  The tunnel had opened up into a large underground cavern. Flare could barely make out the far edge of the cavern off in the distance. Nearly half of the cavern was taken up by a subterranean lake. The ground sloped up from the lake and four stone buildings lay against the cavern’s walls.

  The cavern was well-lit, and Flare looked to the walls, expecting to find the light-emitting mold that he had seen i
n the dwarven kingdom. He scanned the walls and ceiling, but there wasn’t any sign of the mold. For a moment he was at a loss as to how the cavern was lit. To his chagrin, he finally remembered who it was that was teaching him - magicians.

  Gaston led them toward the stone buildings. The first three were small – little more than single room houses. The fourth building was much bigger – in fact it ran along the cavern wall, stretching off into the distance.

  Gaston pointed to the first small structure. “That one is mine. The second is yours, and she sleeps in the third.”

  “Little more than hovels,” Serena complained from the rear. Both men ignored her.

  “What’s that big building?” Flare asked.

  Gaston lit up in a smile. “That’s where your training is to take place, my boy.”

  “Are we to start now?” Flare asked, eager to get started.

  Shaking his head, Gaston began hobbling toward the nearest house. “Oh, to be young and impatient again.”

  “It’s not impatient,” Flare said touchily. “The sooner I get started, the sooner I get done.”

  Gaston and Serena both laughed. They looked at one another and the laughter immediately cut off. It seemed they didn’t want to agree on anything – even accidentally.

  “My boy,” Gaston began again, “You’ll be here for centuries.”

  “Centuries?” Flare repeated, his spirits sinking. He didn’t much like the idea of spending that much time with these two. Gaston seemed all right on his own, but not when paired with Serena. And Flare had already spent too much time with her.

  “Oh yes,” Serena said. “Get some sleep. You’re going to need it.”

  Chapter 7

  Lord Steel and his men were true to their word, riding hard and rarely stopping. They stopped once at noon time for a quick meal and to visit the bushes that lined the Southern road. They changed horses as well, giving the tired horses from the morning a rest.

  Atock and Enton brought up the rear, staying close to the main group but not really a part of it. This close to Telur, the lands belonged to the king and not to Lord Steel. They passed through numerous small towns and villages, whose main purpose was to keep the city of Telur supplied with food. Atock had ridden through these villages before, and they had seemed sleepy, quiet places. Now, they were a beehive of activity. Undoubtedly, the king’s orders were already being implemented.