He moved into the shadows of the trees. With the collapse of the bank, he had to move twenty yards or so away from the water to reach the cover of the foliage. He headed due west briefly, but finding nothing of interest he turned south and moved in an arc back to his starting point. He was pleased that everything seemed quiet. If the goblins were trying to cross at the Narrows, he half-expected to find guards along the bank. He wasn’t sure how far south they had come on the river, but the Narrows couldn’t be more than a couple of miles away.
Returning to the beach he found Enton already waiting for him. “Anything?” he asked.
Enton nodded. “Footprints.”
Atock stopped and stared. “Footprints?” he repeated dully.
Enton nodded. “Human; more than that I couldn’t say; within the past day or so.”
Some of the tension eased out of Atock. Human footprints could be many things. Fisherman or perhaps even someone who lived nearby, but that didn’t feel right. “We’ll need to be quiet and stay in the shadows.”
Enton nodded. “And our raft?” he asked, pointing down the beach.
“We can’t leave it there,” Atock replied. He strode down the beach; the comfortable feeling he had been enjoying was gone and he now felt naked on the wide-open beach. He took one of his curved swords and sliced through the vines they had used as ropes. With the vines severed, the tree limbs rolled apart. Atock used his foot to kick them the rest of the way out into the water. The current grabbed them and carried them away.
Atock paused on the way back to the trees and looked around. Now that he knew there were people out there, he felt completely exposed, like a crowd of people were watching his every move. The feeling was a bit disconcerting, and he hurried back to the cover of the trees.
“No more raft,” Atock said as he rejoined Enton.
Enton nodded. “I hope we don’t need to get away quickly. That raft would have been nice.”
Atock shrugged. “If it comes to that, then we can swim across the river.” He looked out over the width of the water; it suddenly seemed much wider and rougher than he remembered.
They traveled south slowly. Even though it was only a couple of miles to the Narrows, they paused for long periods under the cover of the foliage. It was possible that they were being overly cautious but they both felt better being careful.
They would run, bent-over, for fifty or sixty yards, then pause behind a large covering. One time it was a large tree that had enormous roots protruding above the ground. Another time they hid behind a large bush that was ten yards or more wide. Each time they paused, they practically held their breath, listening for anything out of the ordinary. The first quarter mile passed quietly; no more footprints and nothing out of the ordinary. They were just beginning to relax when they came across the goblin.
They were hiding in the shadows of a large bush and the first thing they noticed was a horrid smell. Both men had smelt that odor before: goblin. They shared a look and then Atock nodded for Enton to move forward.
Enton quietly got down on his hands and knees and slowly crawled forward. He worked his way around to the edge of the thick bush and peeked into the small clearing beyond. It wasn’t just one goblin, but two of the brutes.
The two goblins were kneeling down around a dead deer, taking turns ripping large chunks of flesh free. They devoured the meat raw, blood and gore running everywhere.
It’s strange what a person will notice in such a situation. Despite their worse fears coming to fruition, Enton noticed, almost dispassionately, that the deer was still twitching, so it hadn’t been dead for very long.
Enton only lay there for a moment, just long enough to make sure that there weren’t any more goblins in the clearing. He knew it wasn’t likely, as goblins were not known for being disciplined; any other goblins surely would have been partaking in the feast.
Holding his breath, Enton began to slowly scootch backwards. As always seemed to happen to a person in this situation, a twig snapped underneath his weight.
One of the goblins turned, his head swiveling to look directly at Enton’s hiding spot.
Enton froze, hoping the limbs of the bush concealed him. He didn’t breathe, didn’t even blink.
The second goblin, the one still devouring the deer, paused and barked something in the goblin tongue.
Enton knew only a few words of goblin, and he didn’t understand what was said.
The first goblin responded in their harsh guttural language. Once again Enton couldn’t understand a word of it.
The second goblin uttered a harsh laugh and went back to tearing strips of flesh from the deer.
Either the first goblin became satisfied that the sound he’d heard was a normal forest sound, or he became more worried that he would lose out on his share of the meat. Either way, he turned back around and rejoined the feast.
Ever so slowly, Enton began breathing again. He went to great pains so as not to make a noise; it was harder than he’d expected. He’d held his breath longer than he’d thought and it was hard not to gasp and let the air in.
Once his breathing returned to normal, Enton began the slow retreat again. It took several long moments for him to return to the far side of the bush where Atock waited. Atock opened his mouth to speak, but Enton quickly raised a finger to his lips and Atock remained silent.
Enton held up two fingers and motioned back to the clearing where the goblins were. Atock’s eyes went wide and he nodded.
The ground sloped away to the west, headed back toward the river. After a stretch of about forty yards of open ground, a line of trees grew in a southwesterly direction. As quietly as they could, they began to crawl due west. They stayed as low as possible, trying hard to keep the large bush in between them and the goblins.
It was nerve-racking. The whole time they slowly crawled away, they kept expecting to hear a goblin’s battle cry.
They gradually crossed the open ground. Atock’s neck began to hurt from constantly looking behind them, but the pain didn’t prevent him from looking backward. If the goblins spotted them, then he wanted as much of a warning as possible.
The ground was sparsely covered in grass, with wide, open areas of sand between the patches of grass. They had to be careful so as not to kick up too much dust. They crawled in a zigzag pattern, heading from large grass patch to large grass patch; they only crossed the open sandy areas when it was absolutely necessary.
They made as little noise as possible, even breathing through their mouths to minimize any chance of the goblins hearing them. There was a drawback to this though, as all the sand made both of them want to cough and sneeze.
Finally, they reached the first tree and they both collapsed behind it, gasping for breath.
Atock peered around the side of the tree, looking for any sign they had been noticed, but there was nothing. The goblin clearing was back up the slope but there wasn’t any sign that they had been heard or seen.
Looking around, Atock located the next tree; it was ten yards away but the ground was sloped and would help hide them. He motioned to the tree and leaned closed to Enton. “You first,” he whispered.
Enton didn’t bother to respond. He just looked around the tree, back toward the clearing and then started out toward the next tree. He didn’t crawl this time, instead he ran hunched over, using the slope of the ground to help hide him.
As soon as Enton broke from cover, Atock scanned the uphill slope – nothing. He waited for several long moments after Enton had reached the next hiding spot just to be sure. Satisfied that Enton’s run had gone unnoticed, Atock took a deep breath and followed his fellow Guardian.
They continued in this fashion for several hundred yards. Going slowly and carefully took them extra time, and it took nearly an hour to go the relatively short distance.
Finally they began to breathe a bit easier, satisfied that they had eluded the two goblins.
“You think they were sentries?” Enton asked.
Atock cons
idered the question. Goblins wouldn’t make the best sentries. They were not known for being disciplined, plus they hated the daylight. Unsure how to answer the question, he shrugged. “Perhaps, but if so, then it’s a poor choice.” Besides, he thought, how’d they get to this side of the river? Goblins hated water and, by extension, hated boats as well. He could easily see them rebelling against their masters over the issue.
“What do we do?” Enton asked. As he spoke, he lowered himself to the ground and peered around a tree; looking back the way they had come.
Atock didn’t answer right away. He wasn’t being coy; he simply didn’t know how to respond. He stood there thinking as Enton continued to scan the way they had come, that is, back to the northeast. His mind cast around for inspiration but there wasn’t any divine inspiration. All he came up with was that they must go on, they had to reach the Narrows and see if that was where Zalustus’s army was crossing.
As Atock stood there, wondering if they would even live to reach the Narrows, his eyes turned to the southeast. It was then that his hoped-for divine inspiration hit him. A tree reached high into the air, towering over the other, much shorter trees. As he stared at the tree, that gloriously tall tree, he realized that it was the perfect vantage point, the perfect place to gather information on their surroundings.
Atock glanced down to find Enton staring up at him.
“Are you all right?” Enton asked.
Atock nodded and smiled. “You climb many trees when you were growing up?”
In answer, Enton’s forehead creased in confusion.
Chapter 20
Flare broke through the surface of the small stream and began gasping for breath. His head felt like it was about to split open – even worse than before. Normally he had headaches when he returned from Sha’al, but they had gotten worse with each visit and this one was the worst yet.
He half swam, half stumbled to the bank, just crawling up far enough out of the water to collapse in the sand. He lay there for several moments just breathing and then, slowly, the aching in his head began to lessen. His breathing slowed and the urge to vomit faded away.
Flare lay there several more moments and then pushed himself up to his feet. As soon as he stood, his head began to spin and he took several more deep breaths. Slowly, the spinning disappeared and he began to feel more normal.
He took several steps back into the stream and wash the dirt from his face and armor.
Flare knew what caused the pain and disorientation – it was trying to fit several centuries of memories into several heartbeats of time. For his body, he had only gone in the water a few moments before, but his mind was trying to handle several centuries of memories from Sha’al.
He shivered in the coolness of the night – pleased to be away from the desert. On occasion it had seemed cool in the cavern, but those times had been rare. He had missed the cool night air and it seemed like forever since he had seen a tree.
He climbed the bank again, this time feeling much better than before. It was strange – he had memories of the past several hundred years in Sha’al, but he also could remember walking from the forest camp just a few moments ago. His headache threatened to come back, so he quit thinking about Sha’al. Well, except for his extreme delight to be away from the two mages.
He retraced his steps to the camp, stopping every so often to listen to the night sounds. The camp was just as he had left it – Keenan still slept in his blankets.
An overwhelming exhaustion crept over him, and Flare desperately wanted to lay down and go to sleep. He resisted, knowing that Keenan’s turn for watch was still several hours away.
He moved to the far side of the camp, stepping out into the woods so as not to wake Keenan.
His mind was a jumble of conflicting memories. His worries about the Elven Guard seemed like centuries ago but then they also felt recent.
He passed a fallen tree and resisted the urge to sit down. Sitting would most likely allow his exhaustion to get the better of him. He knew that he had to remain standing for the rest of his watch – if he wanted to stay awake, that is.
An hour later, Flare stood, resting against a tree trunk, still fighting to stay awake. It would probably be acceptable to go ahead and wake up Keenan, but as half the night had not passed, it wouldn’t truly be fair.
He shivered in the cool night air. It wasn’t cold, just cool; the coolness coupled with his inactivity had made him feel cold. He crossed his arms, trying to hold in his body’s warmth, but still he shivered again.
The exhaustion weighed on him and several times he stretched his neck, trying to stretch the muscles and relieve the headache.
He sighed, his eyelids feeling nearly impossible to hold open. At that moment he wanted nothing more than to go lie down and go to sleep.
“I’m surprised at you, Flare,” a familiar voice said from behind him and to the left.
Instantly, Flare was alert, turning and drawing his sword at the same moment. What he saw, made his insides go as cold as he felt on the outside; Zalustus stood in the shadows.
It was dark and Zalustus was indistinct, but nevertheless, it was him. His good eye seemed to twinkle in the darkness. “I’ve had men put to death for inattention while on watch, and they were plenty more alert than you.”
“Zalustus,” Flare gasped, finally founding his voice. “How did you find me?”
Zalustus smiled, but he remained back in the shadows. “Oh, perhaps that grand Dragon Order training missed a few things?” His tone was mocking; pleased that he knew something that Flare did not. Still in the shadows, Zalustus looked up and around. “Let me guess, you’re returning to Solistine, aren’t you?”
The answer confused Flare. It would seem that Zalustus had found Flare but didn’t know exactly where he was.
Wizards could summon through air, and this was used to travel from one place to another. The only issue with this was that the destination had to be a location that the wizard had been to before. Flare was fairly certain that Zalustus had never been to the Eternal Forest; but then again there were many things he did not know about the man.
Flare raised his sword to point at Zalustus’s chest. “Why are you here? The last time we met, you told me we would meet in battle at Telur. Why have you tracked me down early?” As soon as he had voiced the question, a paranoid thought latched onto him. Could Zalustus’s army somehow have already reached Telur? Surely that was impossible.
“True,” Zalustus replied, “but I thought I would give you the opportunity to save all those lives. When my armies reach Telur, they will overrun it in a matter of days.”
Flare sucked in air, both relieved that Zalustus’s armies were not currently besieging Telur, but also still perplexed as to how he had located him to begin with.
“What is this of which you speak?” Flare asked. “And since when do you care about saving lives?”
Zalustus threw back his head and laughed; the sound echoing among the trees.
Flare glanced back toward his and Keenan’s camp. Was Keenan all right, or had Zalustus brought henchmen with him? He also idly wondered if Keenan would hear their voices.
Zalustus stopped laughing and lowered his eyes to Flare. “Truly I do not care if every soul in the city is killed, but I know that you do. So, I have come to offer you a chance to save all their lives.”
Although he sincerely doubted Zalustus’s words, Flare nodded for him to continue. “Tell me your offer.”
“It’s simple,” Zalustus said, still remaining back in the shadows. “Not only will I spare Telur but also Solistine.”
Flare snorted, finally realizing where this was going. “And all I have to do is turn myself over to you?”
Zalustus shrugged. “One of us has to die. To me the choice is simple; you can surrender to me and I will spare thousands of lives, or you can fight me, knowing that if I win I will put to death every man, woman, and child in the entire kingdom of Telur.” Zalustus paused briefly. “The things that I have pl
anned for the elves would probably make you nauseous.”
Flare shook his head. “So you offer me a quick death, while you offer a slow death to both Telur and Solistine? Surely you cannot think that I will accept this offer.”
Zalustus stepped forward, suddenly looking intense. His good eye focused on Flare in an unsettling manner.
His look wasn’t all that was unsettling; Flare could now see why he had remained in the shadows. It wasn’t actually Zalustus; not corporally anyway. This was an image of Zalustus, but not the real thing. He was translucent; the trees and bushes behind him were clearly visible through.
Flare took a quick step forward and slashed at him with Ossendar. His sword cut right through; almost as if passing through smoke.
There was a muffled “No,” from Zalustus and then the wind blew violently for a moment and when it stopped, Flare was alone.
For the briefest of moments, Flare didn’t move; instead he just stood there, breathing hard. Then, regardless of the effects, he sent his spirit outward.
Immediately, the pain in his head threatened to overwhelm him and he dropped to one knee, holding his head in both hands. Using sorcery so soon after visiting Sha’al was unwise. His head already ached, and sorcery would just contribute to the pain; but he had to know. The pain slowly lessened and Flare was able to focus his thoughts on his surroundings. Through his spirit, he could sense life all around them, but that was to be expected in a forest. He quickly tuned out the animal life and narrowed the focus of his search. Nearby he could sense Keenan, still asleep in his blankets, and Flare breathed a sigh of relief. He’d had visions of the man lying dead when he returned to their camp; at least now he didn’t have to worry about that possibility. He cast his spirit out in ever widening circles; no Zalustus. Rather unsurprisingly, he did find other life around them. He could sense a group of elves but they were still three days journey away; there wasn’t anyone else closer.
Flare sighed and returned Ossendar to its sheath. He hadn’t really expected to find Zalustus hiding behind a bush, but he was confused how the apparition had appeared in the first place. Did Zalustus know something, some magic that Flare did not?
A Gathering of Armies Page 18