A Gathering of Armies

by Christopher Williams

  In addition to the lack of food and water, Heather had been forced to use the corner of the stall to relieve herself. As this was an animal pen, it wasn’t the first time the stall had been used as a privy, but still Heather was pleased to escape the stall’s confines.

  Numerous guards waited in the hallway that ran between the animal stalls. Warren was there and he was gulping water from a waterskin. A second waterskin was shoved into Heather’s hands and she immediately forced out all other thoughts. The water was pure delight. It was even cool and felt pleasant on her sore throat.

  A soldier waited on them to finish drinking. He was not of the city guard, being undoubtedly a noble. He had long, dark hair that hung to his shoulders and he wore a several day-old beard. His eyes were brown and piercing, and his nose was wide and flat. Overall he was not the most handsome of men, but he radiated a sense of command. “Better?” he asked as Heather lowered the waterskin.

  She nodded slowly. “This is not the treatment I expected as an emissary of King Darion.”

  The noble nodded his head. “You are correct, and these men will be punished. Emissaries are not to be treated as enemies, even if they are.”

  That last caught Heather off-guard. “Are we your enemy?” she asked.

  The noble smiled. “That is for my king to decide, not me.”

  “And who are you?” Warren asked, speaking for the first time.

  “My name is Clement. I am the lord of the fiefdom that contains Marsh Landing.”

  Heather nodded. “I was sent by King Darion,” she began but stopped when Clement held up his hand.

  “Wait! It matters little to me. Save your words for the kings.”

  “The kings?” Heather repeated. Her stomach seemed to be twisting into knots. She hadn’t expected to meet even one king and now she had to present King Darion’s request to two kings.

  Clement nodded. “Yes, they will see you shortly. But first we need to get you food. I do not want you to faint upon meeting the king.” He turned and started walking away.

  Heather and Warren followed the noble, conscious of the guards following them closely.

  Clement led them out of the large building that had served as their makeshift jail and into a much smaller building that sat in the first building’s shadow. This second building appeared to be an office of sorts. It was small, a single room only, and three desks lined the back wall. A small table was to their left as they entered, and chairs were scattered around to their right. The small table had been prepared as a dinner table. Warren and Heather both glanced to Clement, but when he only smiled and nodded his head, they dove into the food. The food wasn’t much, roasted beef and bread, but it was wonderful.

  They ate until they got their fill. Heather actually stopped herself much earlier than she wanted to – she didn’t want to get sick in the presence of the two kings. Warren was still eating as she sat back in her chair. Their host had not sat down with them, but instead he had sat on the edge of one of the desks and watched them eat.

  “When are we to meet the kings?” Heather asked.

  Clement shrugged. “When they summon us,” he said. “Be assured they know that you are here.”

  “Will they aid us?”

  Clement threw his head back and laughed. “That is really not for me to say, but if you are asking my opinion, then, no, they will not help you.”

  Heather took a deep breath, anger welling up within her. “Even though they know what we are facing? Goblins and Kelcer’s destroyer?”

  Clement shrugged again. “Perhaps they will, but I do not think so. Why would they? Telur has always dealt harshly with us. Surely you know that there is much anger and hatred to Telur?”

  Heather nodded. “And when the goblins overrun Telur? Where will they look to next?”

  “If you mean to imply that they will look to Molain and Natesh, then save your breath. Telur will not be destroyed easily. Perhaps,” he said slowly, “my king intends to let the goblins and Telur kill each other and then destroy whoever survives.”

  Heather took a deep breath, fear replacing the anger now. Clement’s words actually made sense. Why would Molain and Natesh risk their fighters for Telur? The two kings might be able to dramatically enlarge their kingdoms by staying out of the fight until one side had won.

  “Your king will stay out of the fight and let Kelcer’s destroyer win?” she asked.

  Clement smiled. “As to that,” he began slowly, “who’s to say that this Zalustus really is the destroyer prophesied about? I would imagine that King Darion would label Zalustus anything that it took to get Molain and Natesh into the battle.”

  With a cold certainty, Heather knew the letters from King Darion were worthless here. Neither kingdom would come to aid Telur, well, at least not at the summons of Darion. There was one more trick that Heather had to play and she said a silent prayer for help.

  It was reasonable that she wouldn’t be allowed to carry her pack with her so Heather removed the letters and placed the two from King Darion in her left boot, while the two from Dalin Olliston went into her right boot.

  King Almarin and King Travis allowed them to wait for several hours after the sun had gone down. Each passing minute only added to Heather’s anxiety. It seemed that the fate of Telur might very well depend on her actions and it was a terrible feeling. She wondered how Flare had ever managed to remain sane while carrying such a heavy burden.

  Finally a young page brought the summons. “King Almarin and his guest King Travis will see the Guardians.”

  Clement climbed to his feet and motioned for Heather and Warren to do so as well. He started for the door but then paused and turned back. “I hope you realize the foolishness in trying to escape. Whatever happens now, your fate lies in the hands of King Almarin.”

  Neither Heather nor Warren responded to his remarks and Clement’s face darkened. He straightened up and nodded at the guards in the rear of the group. “Stay close. If they try and escape, do not hurt them too bad.”

  They exited the small building and walked eastward through a large network of pens. The pens were used for housing the livestock that was sold at the various auctions. The pens were empty now, but the residual animal smell hung in the air.

  Upon reaching the far side of the pens, Clement steered them toward a large building. It was circular and made from thick planks of wood.

  A low rumble of conversation began to build as they neared the building and Heather’s anxiety increased. She wasn’t just going to see the two king’s alone; the building was packed with people.

  A small group of guards stood in front of two enormous doors. The doors were closed, or almost closed – there was a gap just large enough for a man to slip through.

  “What is your business here?” A deep voice called out.

  Clement stopped and looked to the rightmost group of guards.

  Heather realized with some surprise that the guards wore two different livery. The guards on the left wore the colors of King Almarin, while those on the right wore the colors of King Travis. It was King Travis’s guards that had spoken.

  Clement took a deep breath; he looked displeased to be addressed in such a manner. “I am lord Clement Himlin. I was summoned by King Almarin to appear before him and his guest Travis of Molain.”

  Surprised, Heather glanced at Warren, but he seemed lost as to what was going on. She, however, thought she knew. The kingdoms of Molain and Natesh had hated each other for centuries and Clement had disliked being questioned by King Travis’s guards, especially since this land was Clement’s fiefdom. She also suspected that he had intentionally referred to King Travis as just Travis, leaving off the title as a slight.

  The captain of the guards from Molain sucked in air, undoubtedly to snap right back at Clement. Luckily, he never got the chance.

  The captain of the guards from Natesh quickly stepped forward and saluted. “Lord Clement, King Almarin has indeed summoned you and the two prisoners. You may escort them in.”


  Clement nodded his head at the man and then stepped past. Heather and Warren followed, unsure if they would be let in. The guards from Molain hesitated, but then stepped back, allowing Clement to squeeze through the doors.

  Warren stepped through the doors behind Clement, leaving Heather last in line.

  Ducking her head through the doorway, Heather stared around in amazement. This building was an auction hall. The floor was flat and fenced in, normally for animals, either single or in groups, but the floor was empty now. On either side of the floor, tiered seats rose from the edge of the fences. Normally these seats would be filled with buyers and sellers partaking in the auctions – today they were filled with nobles. The nobles from Natesh were on her left, while those from Molain were on her right.

  Directly ahead of them was a platform. Heather assumed it was normally used by the auctioneer to describe the lots for sell, but today the platform contained two men sitting in enormous chairs.

  Heather had paused just inside the doors to get her bearings, but now she hurried to catch up to Warren and Clement, both of whom had continued on upon entering the building.

  As they entered, the level of conversation dropped dramatically. The nobles on both sides seemed to be weighing them and Heather didn’t like the feeling one bit. The nobles looked both bored and amused at her and Warren’s appearance.

  Clement stopped a good ten yards from the platform and went down onto one knee. Heather made to follow and had to nudge Warren to get him to kneel as well. They only waited a moment before standing again, following Clement’s lead.

  King Almarin was on the left and King Travis was seated on the right. Heather recognized both men from Jared’s descriptions of them. Her initial impression of the kings was that they were both over-confident. They wore self-assured smiles, as if they were here to accept the surrender of an already beaten foe.

  King Almarin was older, nearly sixty years of age if she remembered correctly. He was bald on top but seemed to be making up for it by having a thick grayish-white beard. His nose was overly large and crooked, giving him a comical look. While he appeared tall, he was also thin and perhaps even sickly.

  While Almarin was old, thin, and frail-looking, Travis was young and healthy. King Travis of Molain was clean-shaven with long, brown hair that reached nearly to his shoulders. Like most of the people from Molain, he was dark; dark hair, dark eyes. Another trait that he seemed to share with his countrymen, he was on the short side. Despite his lack of height, Travis had the appearance of a fighter; his muscular arms, calloused hands, and small white scars all contributed to his fighter image.

  King Almarin stood and smiled down at them. “Look, Travis, that fool Darion has sent envoys to request our help.”

  King Travis remained seated, but he nodded. “Or perhaps they were sent to spy out our strength.”

  She had come into this room extremely nervous, the sight of the gathered nobles had only increased her anxiety, but the absolute stupidity of the two kings was making that feeling of fear diminish. “Spy out your strength,” Heather repeated dumbly. “Surely you know what is about to happen.”

  The low buzz of voices cut off as the smile on King Almarin broadened. “Of course we know what is about to happen. Telur is going to be conquered and we will annex the eastern half of its lands.”

  “And the goblins?” she asked. “Once they’ve conquered Telur?”

  King Almarin shrugged. “We don’t expect Telur will be beaten easily. The price in goblin blood will be high. They will not have the strength to threaten our lands.”

  “And Zalustus?” Heather asked.

  “Who?” King Almarin’s smile disappeared and he looked confused.

  Heather sighed, both in frustration and in relief. It seemed that King Almarin and King Travis were simply taking advantage of the situation. She guessed they were not allied with Zalustus and at least that was something in her favor.

  “Zalustus is the human leader of the goblins,” she explained patiently. She spoke louder to make sure all the nobles heard her words. “He’s the destroyer that Kelcer warned about.”

  King Almarin’s smile returned. “Do not try and trick us with old fables. We are not so foolish as that.”

  You’re more foolish than you can possibly imagine, Heather thought. She wasn’t sure how to answer the king’s self-assurance. It seemed he absolutely did not believe Kelcer.

  Heather glanced around at the assembled nobles. Their bored and amused expressions were gone and they were watching her intently now. Well, well, it seems that some of the nobles believe in Kelcer. She was still watching the nobles when King Almarin returned to his chair.

  The king looked almost jubilant as he regarded the assembled nobles. “Telur is about to fall and the combined armies of Molain and Natesh will create two massive empires,” he said loudly. “Hear now the words of that fool that sent these emissaries.” He turned his attention to Heather. “Read the messages that you brought us.” The words were not a request but a command.

  Heather swallowed hard. “King Almarin, these messages are for you and King Travis …”

  “I said read them,” King Almarin bellowed, slamming his fist down on the arm of his chair. “Now!”

  Heather bowed her head in apparent acquiesce. She reached down and removed the two letters from her right boot, broke the wax seal, and unfolded them. She cleared her throat and began to read.

  “King Almarin. We are living in dire times in which the Kelcer prophecy is on the verge of being fulfilled.”

  She paused as King Almarin let out a guffaw; he was one of the few.

  “As I am sure you are aware, a large force of goblins in travelling north; their apparent mission is to destroy the city of Telur. This must not be allowed to happen.”

  Heather paused again as King Almarin shook his head and leaned over to whisper to King Travis.

  She began reading louder and quicker. “I adjure you to come to my aid and to the aid of the Church of Adel. Every soldier and fighter must rush to the defense of Telur. All who refuse this command, I personally excommunicate from our beloved church. Signed in my own hand, Dalin Olliston, High Priest of the Church of Adel.”

  She looked up from the letter to see the two kings staring at her open-mouthed. It would seem that was not the letters they had been expecting.

  King Almarin opened and closed his mouth several times, but no sound came out. Finally, he bounded to his feet. “Lies! Lies and fables spread by that coward Darion!” He waved his hands at the assembled nobles. “Clear the room so that we can deal with this foolishness.”

  Heather’s heart seemed to skip a couple of beats and she looked around at the seated nobles. Some of the younger, less-important ones seemed to be following orders, but they were the exception – the vast majority had remained seated.

  King Almarin stomped his foot and shouted, “I said clear the room. Now!” His voice had gone from the surprised tone and had taken on an angry, deadly sound.

  Still few of the nobles moved.

  The king’s guards in the back of the building, near the entrance that Clement had led them through, began shuffling their feet; some of them dropped their hands to their sword hilts.

  One older, very large noble stood in the middle of the group. He was barrel-chested, tall, and covered in scars. His gray hair was cut short, but his beard hung down to his chest. He had a sharp protruding jaw and piercing eyes. “I would see that letter,” he said in a deep and gravelly voice. He sat amongst the nobles on Heather’s left, which marked his as a noble of the kingdom of Natesh.

  “Duke Felix, are you forgetting that I am your king?” Almarin demanded.

  “No, my king,” Duke Felix replied, “but are you forgetting that Dalin Olliston is the human voice of the god Adel?”

  King Almarin shook his head. “You see! This is exactly what that bastard Darion wanted.” He looked from Duke Felix to his guards clustered around the entrance. “Clear this room now!”
>
  The Captain of the king’s guard saluted and made the mistake of drawing his sword.

  The nobles on both sides of the floor vaulted to their feet and some of the younger ones drew their own swords.

  “Hold!” Duke Felix shouted, but the room dissolved into mayhem.

  The king’s guard moved farther onto the floor and the nobles poured from the stands. Clement grabbed Heather with his right hand and Warren with his left. “Hurry! Follow me!” He led them through a gap in the crowd to a clear area against the wall. He had yet to draw his sword, but his hand never left the hilt. “Keep your head down,” he warned them and then turned to face the crowd.

  Within moments, the king’s guard were forced back out the doors. No one had actually crossed swords, but that was because the guard recognized the foolishness of such an action. Several nobles slammed the doors shut and barricaded them closed.

  King Almarin and King Travis remained on their platform, but they were surrounded by nobles who appeared determined to protect their king.

  “Silence!” Duke Felix shouted from the center of the floor. He had to repeat the shout several more times before the crowd gradually began to quiet.

  King Almarin shoved his way through his protectors and stood on the edge of the platform. “Is that what you want?” he shouted. “Do you want to fight each other when we should be fighting Telur?”

  “This isn’t about fighting each other, or fighting Telur,” Duke Felix answered. “This is about fighting the enemies of the church when the High Priest commands it. We must obey him.”

  Clement motioned for Heather and Warren to begin edging around the floor toward the door. They obeyed reluctantly. While they didn’t want to get caught in a rebellion, they did want to know how things proceeded here. Their actions did not go unnoticed.

  Duke Felix pointed a finger at the three of them. “Hold!” he commanded. “I would see that letter.”