A Gathering of Armies

by Christopher Williams

  He recalled his spirit and immediately the pain settled down hard on him; the aching intensified behind his eyes.

  He returned to their camp, walking slowly, and stopping occasionally to make sure that he was alone. Their camp was as when he had left it, and he remained there for the rest of his watch. He remained intensely alert until it was Keenan’s turn to watch. Before he went to sleep, he once again sent his spirit out to search the nearby area; it remained empty except for him and Keenan. Nevertheless, he did not fall asleep for nearly an hour, and that was despite his nearly overwhelming exhaustion.

  The next morning Keenan shook Flare awake. “You going to sleep all day?”

  Flare rolled out of his blankets and looked around blurry-eyed. For a moment he nearly forgot where he was, but then the events of the previous night came flooding back to him. He sat up quickly, causing a spike of pain to run behind his eyes.

  The sun was already up and the early-morning fog had disappeared. Keenan had built up the campfire and his blankets were already packed away.

  Flare looked upward, tracking the location of the sun. The sun had already been up for several hours and he was astounded. It was unlike him to sleep so late. He was a soldier and used to being up before the sun rose.

  “If I hadn’t seen your breathing, I might have thought you were dead,” Keenan said. He wore a lopsided grin. It was the most animated he had been since they left Elem.

  Flare stretched his sore muscles, freezing halfway through. His head was still hurting. The headache had lessened, it no longer felt like his head was about to rip open – instead, it was now just a constant, dull throb.

  “Are you all right?” Keenan asked. The smile was gone and he genuinely seemed concerned.

  Flare nodded, immediately wishing he hadn’t. His head was better, but it still hurt – the movement seem to aggravate it. “Yes, I’m fine – just got a headache.”

  “Well, do you need to stay here today?”

  “No,” Flare said quickly. “We still have a long ways to go.”

  The Eternal Forest had been changing for the past several days. Near the Black River, the land had been lowlying and swampy. The farther away from the Black River they got, the more elevated and dry the land became. The land gradually rose in elevation away from the Black River, and the forest grew more dense. There were trails through this part of the forest, but they had chosen to avoid them. It was more of a habit than anything else. And actually Flare assumed they would be caught by the Elven Guard, so there was little to be gained by avoiding the trails. As the forest became more dense and the traveling became more difficult, they changed their plans and began following the trails.

  They maintained a quick, steady pace. The trees and bushes grew in close around the trail, making both men worry about an ambush. They constantly scanned the surrounding woods for signs of the guard. In addition, Flare kept a constant watch for anything out of the ordinary, but as the day wore on, be began to doubt the events of the previous night. Could it have been a dream? Could he have fallen asleep while on watch? He doubted it, but it was possible. Perhaps the exhaustion caused by his trip to Sha’al had lowered his guard more than he’d known.

  Several times throughout the day, Flare halted, forcing Keenan to do so as well. He wasn’t sure what had caught his attention, but each time they remained frozen on the trail, scanning the forest. Each time, they were alone or at least seemed to be. After a bit they would begin following the trail again.

  Late in the day, dark storm clouds began to roll in. Off in the distance they could see lightning, and knew it wouldn’t be long before they were soaked.

  They quickened their pace, hoping to find somewhere to take shelter. Flare knew better than to take shelter under trees during a lightning storm, but he was hoping to find an outcropping of rock. He wasn’t sure it would do any good, as the wind was also picking up.

  The rain began to fall half an hour later and within moments they were soaked. They began to jog, knowing they needed to find somewhere to make camp. As they sped up, the rain began to fall harder. They followed the trail for another half hour, and by this time the rain was falling so hard they could barely see. In addition the sun had started to go down.

  Flare was about to give up and try to make camp under some thick bushes, when Keenan’s voice pulled him up short.

  “Flare! What’s that?”

  Flare skidded to a stop, turning to look at what Keenan had seen.

  Keenan had stopped ten paces back and was staring into the woods on the eastern side of the trail.

  Flare hastened to his side and squinted against the rain to see what was in the woods. It was difficult to make out, but there appeared to be a small building nestled under some large trees. Flare nearly cursed himself. He been running so fast he nearly missed their salvation. “Thank the gods,” Flare said.

  “You know what that is?” Keenan asked.

  “Yes, it’s a guardhouse.”

  Keenan looked dubious. “I know you said they were going to find us, but should we make it that easy on them?”

  Flare shook his head. “You don’t understand. This forest has guardhouses scattered throughout, they’re for use in emergencies. Rarely, if ever, are they used. I doubt this one has been used in years.”

  Keenan’s doubt seemed to drain away. “Thank the gods indeed!” He broke out into a grin. “I would say this counts as an emergency.”

  Flare didn’t answer but started through the bushes toward the shack. The small building had the appearance of being deserted for some time. Small bushes had grown up all around it, helping to hide the building.

  Flare led the way, pushing through the bushes and up to the lone door. There was a small overhang, and it did help keep some of the rain off, the wind was now blowing sideways and they were still getting wet.

  Even so, Flare hesitated before opening the door. These guardhouses were solely for the use of the Elven Guard. All other elves were forbidden from using them. Flare had seen them in the woods before, but had never been inside one. Still, he agreed with Keenan’s assessment; this certainly counted as an emergency. The elves probably would not agree, but they had more important issues with Flare than his trespassing in an Elven guardhouse.

  Flare pushed the door open and stepped inside – Keenan right on his heels. It was pure bliss to get out of the rain. “Il-lum,” Flare said, causing a small ball of light to appear beside him, floating in the air.

  The guardhouse was small, little more than a single large room. A wood fireplace stood in one corner and three sets of bunk beds took up most of the rest of the floor. A small table with two wooden, rickety chairs sat just off to the right of the door. To the left of the door was a single, small window. There was a thin layer of dust covering everything, and Flare relaxed knowing that no one had visited this guardhouse in some time.

  “You think it’s safe to have a fire?” Keenan asked, looking to Flare.

  “Yes. Go ahead and start one,” Flare said. Keenan nodded and headed to the fireplace. Flare turned and moved on past the bunk beds. The ball of light floating along the site, lighting the area allowing him to inspect the room.

  Upon each of the bunk beds, sat an old, rolled up mattress. Flare half expected for the mattresses to be rotten, but he was pleasantly surprised to see there was no damage. Back in the corner, on past the beds, he found a large floor-to-ceiling cabinet. Intrigued, he opened the cabinet door and found a small supply of elven hollenstren bread. Elven hollenstren bread was a type of sweet bread that was good for the body and supplied a boost of energy. It didn’t hurt that the bread kept for a long time either. He supposed the bread had been here at least a year, but when he opened one of the packages, the bread was good and only slightly stale; nothing that warming it over the fire wouldn’t cure.

  Flare removed several packages of the bread and headed back to the fireplace. Keenan had a small fire already started and he was placing more logs against the flames.

  �
��Here,” Flare said, tossing one of the packages to Keenan. “This is hollenstren bread.”

  Keenan opened the package and examined the bread. “It’s still good?”

  “Yes,” Flare said. “Maybe a bit stale, but warm it over the fire and it will be fine.”

  Keenan nodded. “All right, but first I want to change clothes. I hate being wet.”

  That night they had the best sleep since they left Elem. The mattresses on the beds smelled a little, but it was still better than sleeping on the ground, especially since the ground was soaking wet.

  Flare thought it would be okay to not post guards, but Keenan insisted. So once again, Flare took the first watch.

  It continued to rain all night long, although the wind quit blowing so hard. Between the sound of the rain hitting the roof and Flare’s exhaustion, it was all he could do to stay awake. Several times he found himself nodding off in one of the small chairs, so he decided to spend the rest of his watch standing up.

  Several times he ventured outside and stood underneath the small overhang. Even though the wind was not blowing as much, he would still get wet standing there and couldn’t take it for long. He briefly considered creating a sorcerer’s shield to keep the rain off of him, but dismissed this as his head was still hurting.

  He was only too glad when it was time to wake Keenan and then go to bed himself.

  Flare awoke the next morning pleased to see that it was still dark. He didn’t want to get used to sleeping as late as he had yesterday.

  Flare rolled off the bed and twisted his neck, stretching the muscles. He noticed Keenan standing near the door, looking out the window. “Everything all right?”

  Keenan turned and nodded. “Yes, but it’s still raining.”

  Flare stood and moved over to join Keenan. The other man moved aside so that Flare could see out the window. It was indeed still raining, perhaps not as hard as yesterday but it was still falling steadily.

  “What do you think?” Keenan asked.

  “I don’t know,” Flare said. “Doesn’t look like it’s going to let up, does it?”

  “Perhaps we should spend the day here,” Keenan said. “I don’t much like the idea of traveling in that.”

  Flare considered Keenan’s suggestion. If the truth was told, Flare didn’t much like the idea of traveling in the rain either, but he also didn’t like the idea of wasting a day in this guardhouse. “Well, we’ll at least wait until it stops.” He grinned at Keenan’s sigh of relief.

  The rain did not stop, and they spent most of the morning and early afternoon sitting in the open doorway watching it rain. They both grew bored and Flare considered going for a walk. His headache was almost completely gone now, so that he felt he could create the sorcerer’s shield to keep the rain off him. He had a secondary reason for wanting to get out of the guardhouse – it was something he had to do, but not something he wanted Keenan to see.

  Finally, Flare stood up pushing the small, rickety chair away. “I’m going for a walk.”

  “In the rain?”

  Flare grinned at Keenan. “I can keep the rain off of me for a while.”

  Keenan suddenly looked suspicious. “If you can keep the rain off of us, why didn’t you do it yesterday?”

  “I had a headache, and that can sometimes interfere. Why does it matter?”

  Keenan shrugged. “I guess it doesn’t, but are you coming back?”

  Flare stopped, turning to look at the Prince of Tizen. “Coming back? What do you mean am I coming back?”

  Keenan shrugged again. “Just thought you might be disappearing. I don’t know, perhaps trying to be noble.”

  “Breaking my word isn’t what I would consider noble,” Flare said. “When I arrive at Solistine, you’ll be with me.”

  Keenan nodded, looking somewhat relieved.

  Flare stepped out under the small overhang, already feeling the raindrops being blown into him. He summoned his spirit and created a sorcerer’s shield, angling it so that it deflected the rain and kept him dry.

  He stepped out from under the overhang, pleased that his shield kept the rain away. He walked along the side of the building, climbing the small hill that the guardhouse sat upon. He could have gone back toward the trail, but he wanted privacy for what he was about to do.

  The bushes and trees grew thicker the further from the trail he traveled. The hill was steep for maybe a hundred yards and then he reached the crest. The top was open, no trees just a few bushes scattered around. Several large puddles of water had collected in depressions along the top of the hill. The small pools of water were exactly what he had hoped for. He would need them for what he planned to do.

  He expanded the sorcerer’s shield, forcing it into a large arc that he placed over his head. The top of the hill was now shielded from rain, and Flare knelt down next to one of the puddles of water. He planned to do something that his wizardry instructor, Mortimer, had forbidden him from ever doing. He intended to summon a spirit. That in itself was not forbidden, but Mortimer had always insisted that protection circles be used. Flare was taking a risk by not drawing the protection circles, but he felt they were completely unnecessary. The spirit he intended to summon would not harm him, of that he was certain. If he was wrong, then so be it.

  Flare sat on a large rock staring into one of the puddles of water. Slowly his eyes unfocused and then he spoke, “I seek the spirit of Murleen Plurin. Murleen Plurin come forth!”

  Immediately the water began to bubble and hiss, resembling a pot of water hanging over a fire. For several moments all the water did was bubble, but then a form seemed to rise up from the water.

  It was a form that Flare remembered fondly. It was the form of Murleen Plurin. His former Guardian and lover who had died at the battle of Fort Mul-Dune.

  For a moment he couldn’t speak. His eyes were shiny and his throat was suddenly tight. He just sat there staring at her.

  For her part, Murleen Plurin stared right back at him. She looked different in death than she had in life. Somehow, she looked faded. It was almost like viewing a black and white drawing of her. There was no color in her cheeks or her skin, just a pale, bloodless image.

  Finally, Flare found his voice. “Murleen – it’s been far too long.” He paused unsure of exactly what to say. “Oh, Murleen, I’m so sorry.”

  The shade smiled then – it was a smile that Flare remembered so vividly. For just a moment it seemed that there was some life in her. “My dearest Flare, there is nothing to be sorry for. I joined the Guardians hoping that one day I could die a hero. It happened sooner than I expected, but I blame no one, especially you.”

  Flare took a deep breath, immensely relieved that Murleen had not blamed him. He been so afraid of what her spirit might say. “You may not blame me, but I blame myself.”

  The shade shook its head. “There’s no reason. I died a hero as I always wished. Who can ask for anything more? The only thing I regret is not getting to spend more time with you.”

  Once again Flare was choked up and could not speak. A low sob escaped him. “I … I would’ve traded places with you.”

  Murleen nodded. “I know, but that is not your destiny. It was my calling to die at Mul-Dune, not yours. Your calling is so much more important than mine. The fate of the world lies in your hands.”

  Flare shook his head, feeling the weight of that statement on his shoulders. “I never wanted that.”

  “Of course you didn’t, only a fool would, but nevertheless that is your fate. I do not envy you it.”

  Flare dropped his eyes to the ground. “I’m not sure what to do next. I’m not sure if I can beat Zalustus.”

  “That hardly sounds like the man who held Mul-Dune. As to beating Zalustus, you’ve already done it many times,” Murleen’s shade said.

  Flare raised his eyes to stare at his former lover. “Yes, but can I do it now?”

  Murleen smiled. “Time will tell, but I wouldn’t bet against you.”

  Flare felt sligh
tly better. “Thank you.”

  “Is that all? Is that why you summoned me?” Murleen asked.

  “I had to know,” Flare said and paused again. “I had to know if you blamed me.”

  “Of course not. How can I blame you? How can I blame the only man I ever loved?”

  Silence settled between them for several moments, once again Flare’s eyes were shiny. He was still watching her when she spoke again.

  “Although I do blame you for one thing,” Murleen said.

  “What is that?” Flare asked, confused.

  “Of all people that could have died, why did you let Enstorion die?”

  Flare blinked in surprise. “I didn’t let him die. I didn’t let anybody die.”

  The shade of Murleen smiled. “I know you didn’t, but it’s just that Enstorion is such a pain, even in death.”

  Flare couldn’t help it, he burst out laughing.

  After releasing Murleen’s spirit, Flare sat there for nearly an hour, just thinking. That had been difficult, and he had been worried that Murleen would blame him, hate him, or just be indifferent. It was immensely relieving to have her speak as she had.

  Flare had wanted to summon Murleen for some time, but he hadn’t felt the time was right, or perhaps he was just scared of what she might say. That anxiety was gone now – a feeling of peace having replaced it.

  His newfound peace lasted for most of an hour, and then his thoughts came around to the next part of his plan. There was another spirit he wanted to summon today, and he most definitely would be drawing the protection circles for this one.

  Flare pushed himself up from the rock and drew his knife from its sheath. He knelt down beside the puddle of water and began tracing circles around the water. He drew three circles, getting larger and larger as he moved away from the water. Then, he returned to the innermost circle and began drawing runes in the dirt. Working his way from the small, innermost circle to the outermost circle, Flare covered the dirt with elven runes.