A Gathering of Armies

by Christopher Williams

  A second man stepped out of the trees to their left and waved. “River’s all clear,” he called back.

  The first human returned the wave half-heartedly and then headed back up the beach.

  “Well,” Enton said slowly, “I guess we know why the boats are lying on the beach.

  Now that they knew there were sentries close to the shore, Atock and Enton moved even more slowly and took even more precautions. Luckily as the day wore on, the sky darkened and a light rain began to fall. Atock dearly hoped the darkness would help hide them and that the rain would muffle any sounds they made.

  They were moving through a long line of bushes that ran alongside a small clearing, when, for a second time that afternoon, a man’s voice pulled them up short.

  “Who is that?” a man’s deep, burly voice called out.

  For a moment, Atock’s heart nearly stopped and he almost pulled a muscle whipping his head around to see who had spoken.

  A slim, slightly built man was sitting on a tree limb on the opposite side of the clearing. He was holding onto the tree and leaning out to get a better look. Strangely, he wasn’t looking across the clearing where the two Guardians were, but rather to the west, in the direction they were heading.

  Following the man’s gaze, Atock saw a second man step from the tree line and enter the clearing. He too was slim, but unlike the one in the tree, this man was tall. Being tall and so thin gave him an emaciated look. He moved across the clearing, stopped, and stared up at the man in the tree.

  “What’s the watchword?” the man in the tree called out. He held what appeared to be a throwing knife in his hand.

  “Dark tide,” the man on the ground replied. “Anything unusual?”

  The man in the tree relaxed. “Nothing. It’s been as quiet as can be. I just wish this infernal rain would stop.”

  The man on the ground nodded. “It’s slowing down construction too. Aston hasn’t stopped pacing all day.”

  “I wouldn’t want his job,” the man in the tree replied with a shudder.

  The man on the ground nodded in agreement and began to move off through the far side of the clearing. “Stay alert,” he called as he reentered the trees.

  Atock and Enton shared a look, although neither one spoke. Construction? What exactly was the rain slowing down construction on? Atock feared he already knew the answer to that question.

  But there was a piece of good news. Apparently ‘Dark tide’ was the watchword, or passphrase, that these sentries were using. Atock committed it to memory, hoping that they wouldn’t ever need to use it.

  They continued working their way slowly to the west throughout the remainder of the afternoon. They hadn’t covered much distance during the day and they were both wet and tired. Despite it being summer, the rain was also making them feel ice cold. Atock didn’t think he could stand another night of sleeping in the rain.

  They heard sentries talking once more in the afternoon, and twice they saw them walking in the woods. Somehow, the sentries never saw them. Whether it was divine blessing or just dumb luck, Atock was thankful for it regardless.

  Atock paused under the branches of a wide, short bush. He was covered in mud and didn’t see any hope of getting clean before tomorrow. He’d been crawling for the last several hours, as they had used the bushes to screen them from any sentries in the trees.

  Enton tapped his foot and Atock glanced back at him. Enton crawled a bit closer and whispered, “The sun’s setting. We need to find a safe place for camp.”

  Atock doubted whether there was anywhere safe within a day’s ride of their current location; perhaps on the far side of the Adelion but he rather doubted it. He leaned close to Enton and whispered, “These bushes go right up that hill. Let’s follow them and see what’s on the other side.”

  Enton sighed but nodded.

  The sun was just touching the horizon as they crested the small hill. Below them, the ground descended quickly to the banks of the Adelion. Atock hadn’t realized they had gotten this close to the river. His heart skipped a beat as he realized what was laid out before him.

  On the rocky shore was a small, poorly-constructed grouping of huts, but that wasn’t what caught his attention. He had been right after all; a hastily constructed bridge stretched out in a zigzag manner across the Adelion. Actually it wasn’t one continuous bridge, but rather multiple bridges. In some places, there wasn’t even a need for a bridge, as several rocky islets were being used. A bridge led to one end of the islet and then another bridge picked up on the far end. Several long stretches of sandbar were also being used; it appeared that the upstream side of the sandbar had been fortified to help keep the sand from washing away.

  “Uh-oh,” Enton said as he reached Atock’s side. “This is not good.”

  Atock didn’t even reply to the understatement.

  Chapter 30

  Atock and Enton stared out in horror at the scene below them. The huts appeared to have been built for the use of the humans who were busy working on the bridge, or more accurately, multiple bridges. Workers scrambled back and forth, and they all appeared to be human; goblins were not much known for their craftsmanship. The workers were ragged and dirty, a lot of them were covered in mud.

  Off to one side was a large pavilion, where crates and barrels were stacked. Between where the Guardians were hiding and the huts were a string of cook fires and Atock’s stomach growled at the smell; he wasn’t sure how he’d missed it earlier. Perhaps the wind was blowing the wrong way, but he could smell it now.

  “Want to sleep here and try and get away tomorrow?” Enton asked.

  Atock sighed, considering the question. Despite being tired and hungry, he didn’t much like the idea of sleeping this close to the enemy’s camp. “No,” he answered finally. “I think we need to get away tonight. Who knows, it may be sunny tomorrow.”

  “Well, at least the bridge isn’t complete,” Enton replied.

  Atock looked back towards the river. He’d missed the fact that the longest bridge span, the one directly in the middle, was incomplete. His hopes soared for a moment, but then quickly faded away. The frame was in place, but there was a long section where the planks had not yet been laid down. The planks were not well-milled lumber, but rather freshly cut trees that had been hastily split. Undoubtedly, any army marching across the rough bridge would suffer some broken ankles; Zalustus probably didn’t much care about a few hurt soldiers.

  “It’s not complete,” Atock agreed, “but it won’t take long to finish. What? Maybe a few days?”

  Enton looked back out over the river and nodded. “Yeah, if that. That damn thing will be done soon.” He looked back to Atock. “So how do you want to get away? I hope we’re not crawling through the mud all night long.”

  Atock shook his head. “No, I think we’ll let the Adelion carry us away.”

  Enton looked around hurriedly. “Are you sure? Every part of that river looks dangerous, except maybe the middle.”

  “Then that’s where we’ll go,” Atock answered. “There’s just one thing that I want to do first.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Get a closer look at the bridge.”

  Enton appeared confused, hastily looking from Atock to the bridge and then back again. “Surely you’re joking.”

  Enton and Atock emerged from the trees, walking nonchalantly toward the huts. A sentry appeared seemingly from nowhere and blocked their path. His hand rested on his sword hilt, and his eyes flicked from one to the other. “Watchword,” he demanded.

  “Dark tide,” Enton answered.

  The sentry looked them over again, but appeared to relax. “I don’t recognize you,” he said. “How long have you been here?”

  “We’ve spent the last week up north in the woods. They just sent us back to help with the bridge,” Atock answered. He dearly hoped the sentry wouldn’t ask who ‘they’ were.

  The sentry, though, seemed content with the answer. “Yeah, they’re pulling a lot of wo
rkers back in. Tomorrow, you start cutting a road to the northeast.” He shrugged. “It shouldn’t take long; only got a couple of miles to go to reach the river to the west of us.”

  “And then?” Atock asked, forgetting that he was playing the part of one of the mercenaries and should probably already know the plan.

  The sentry didn’t seemed fazed by the question. “Then they’ll build a bridge across that river too, but at least the river’s small and it won’t take long.” He waved his hand at the zigzag collection of bridges crossing the Adelion. “It should be a lot easier than that mess.”

  Atock and Enton nodded but didn’t say anything, and the sentry quickly lost interest in them. “Go on and get some dinner. I suggest you get some sleep if you can. You’ll need to be rested tomorrow. Lord Aston won’t stand for laziness.”

  They thanked him and moved on. Nearing the cook fires, they spotted a line of scruffy, dirty men standing in line to be fed.

  “What do you think?” Enton asked, motioning toward the men. “It would be unusual if we avoided dinner.”

  Atock smiled at Enton’s tone. There was no mistaking what the other man wanted to do. “You’re right,” he said, “let’s get something to eat.”

  Although he agreed with Enton’s desire to get in the chow line, Atock was still nervous that someone might call them out. The fear was unnecessary, though as they fit right in with the rough-looking bunch. Atock was pleased to see several other mercenaries had skin nearly as dark as his.

  The food wasn’t much, but still it seemed wonderful. Boiled potatoes and several stale biscuits wasn’t exactly a feast, but it was the first warm thing he could remember eating in days.

  They ate their food in silence, not exactly sitting with the other men, but not too far away either. No one really spoke though, as everyone seemed tired and hungry.

  As they ate, the sun sank below the horizon. Several men began lighting torches along the sides of the clearing, and lamps appeared along the edges of the bridge. Even from here, they could make out the sounds of men working on the bridge. The lamps provided more light than the torches and the bridge was more illuminated than the small camp.

  When the other men finished eating, they began moving toward the eastern side of the huts. In the darkness, Atock could just make out several large tarps spread across a small hill. Undoubtedly, the workers slept there and the huts were for the leaders.

  Enton leaned close. “We need to move. All the others are leaving once they’re done eating.”

  Atock nodded. “Let’s wander over near that pavilion.”

  Enton blinked in surprise. “Why?”

  “I want to see what’s in those barrels and crates.”

  Enton looked unsure, but he dutifully followed Atock on a meandering path to the pavilion. It was little more than a roof sitting on four large poles. All four sides were open to the elements. Tarps made of a tent-like fabric were hung on the sides, which functioned as makeshift walls. The tarps moved in the wind, allowing glimpses of the stacked crates and barrels.

  He was a little surprised that no one had been stationed here to guard the supplies, but he didn’t waste much time thinking about it.

  Atock knew better than to skulk around as that would certainly raise suspicions if anyone spotted them. Instead, he walked to the nearest tarp and pulled it back. He held it open as Enton nervously stepped through and then Atock followed.

  It was dark in the pavilion. The sun was already down and there wasn’t a torch or lamp of any kind. Still, the moving of the tarps in the breeze let some of the light in from the torches. Atock idly wondered why there was at least a lamp lit in here. It didn’t take long to find out, though.

  As Enton opened several crates to find they were full of foodstuffs, Atock pried the lid off of one of the barrels and recoiled at the smell.

  “What is it?” Enton asked, noticing the movement.

  “Oil for the lamps,” Atock replied.

  Enton moved closer and whispered, “All right, we’ve seen what’s in the crates and barrels. Can we go now?”

  Atock didn’t answer immediately, as an insane idea had just occurred to him.

  “Uh-oh,” Enton said, catching the look on Atock’s face. “I’m not going to like this, am I?”

  It was roughly an hour after the sun had set when Atock walked onto the bridge. He struggled a bit under the weight of the barrel he carried, but he simply adjusted it across his shoulders and marched on. He walked slowly, not in a hurry, just another worker carrying a heavy load. There were other men, some going north, others south, and like him, many of them carried various heavy loads; they didn’t look twice at him.

  The first bridge stretched to the southwest, where it ended on a rocky, narrow islet. Although narrow, the islet was long and had saved the bridge builders a significant amount of time; they had simply incorporated the islet into their path across the river.

  He crossed the islet and entered the second bridge. It was longer than the first and it headed southeast toward a long sandbar. Posts made from recently felled trees had been driven in the ground all along the eastern side of the sandbar to keep the flowing river from washing the sand away.

  At the end of the sandbar, he stepped onto the longest of the bridges spanning the Adelion. This bridge crossed over the widest and deepest part of the river. It was also unfinished. There was a large unfinished gap in the middle of the bridge. The frame of the bridge was done, but the planking had yet to be laid. There were workers hammering away on each end of the gap. Another day, two at the most, and the bridge would be complete and the goblin armies could begin crossing. Once across the Adelion, they would head straight for the grasslands to the east and march north and then west to hit the Southern road.

  Atock knew they had to get back to Telur, had to warn them of exactly what was happening, but a crazy idea had occurred to him and he had made the decision to act upon it. He still planned to get back to Telur; there was just one other thing he wanted to do first.

  Enton waited at the pavilion, watching from the shadows as Atock walked out onto the bridge. He wasn’t sure about this plan; it simply sounded crazy to him, but Atock had insisted, so here they were.

  He kept a count in his head, Atock had been insistent that they do this at exactly the right time. Too soon or too late, and it was all for naught.

  Taking a deep breath, Enton tried to slow his breathing. He had to relax, had to look normal.

  “Hey! What are you doing here?” a voice called out, nearly scaring Enton to death.

  Enton jumped and turned to see a large and very fat man standing in the middle of the crates and barrels.

  “Speak up!” the man snapped.

  “Uh, I was sent to get oil for the lamps on the bridge,” Enton stammered.

  “Oh,” the fat man said; he looked more annoyed than suspicious. “Who sent you?”

  Enton shrugged. “I didn’t recognize him, but you don’t argue with men like that.” His answer sounded strange and he knew it.

  The fat man laughed. “Oh, one of those lords, huh? It sure would be a whole lot easier if they would leave us alone and let us get this damn bridge built.”

  Enton nodded and grinned weakly.

  “Not that I’m criticizing them,” the fat man said quickly and he looked Enton over quickly. “I don’t want any misunderstanding about that.”

  Enton nodded again. “I won’t say anything.”

  The fat man studied him for a moment and then nodded. “Thanks. Say, I don’t remember you.”

  “Well, I’ve been up north in the woods,” Enton said. “They called me back to help cut a road to the west.” He had recovered from his surprise and the lies were beginning to sound more convincing.

  The fat man grinned again and moved closer. “Crazy, right? They tell us to do one thing today, and then tomorrow its something totally different.”

  Enton nodded and then froze. In all the excitement of this man turning up, he had lost track of the ti
me. He looked to the south, but he couldn’t make Atock out in the dark.

  “Hey, want a taste?”

  Enton turned to see the fat man holding a jug out to him. “I won’t tell anyone if you don’t.”

  Enton smiled and reached for the jug with his left hand. He never took it, instead he slammed his right hand, and the concealed blade that he held there, into the man’s chest.

  The fat man’s eyes went wide and he opened his mouth to scream, but Enton drove his left fist into the fat man’s throat, thereby ending any chance of a shout. The man collapsed to the ground and died quickly.

  For the briefest of moments, Enton was unsure what to do. He wasn’t sure of the time, unsure if he was supposed to leave or wait longer. He looked down at the corpse lying on the ground and felt he’d better get going. Kneeling down, he picked up the large barrel, turned, and followed in Atock’s footsteps.

  Stepping onto the longest bridge, the one that spanned the middle of the Adelion, Atock noticed three men standing off to one side. They appeared to be looking at a map and arguing. They were finely dressed, unlike the others that he’d noticed so far.

  “The road and the bridge over the stream to the grasslands must be completed within the week. Lord Zalustus will not have it any other way.” This was said by the older man in the middle of the group.

  “Lord Aston,” a second man said. He was younger and looked worried. “We need more men. Lord Zalustus asks the impossible.”

  Atock felt a thrill of panic as he realized this was the Lord Aston that was leading this little project. He resisted the urge to speed up, but nevertheless was immensely pleased when the men’s voices had faded away. He need not have worried; it was probably doubtful that men like them would notice another worker like himself.

  Atock walked a little way farther and stopped; he wanted to make sure the arguing men couldn’t see him. He lowered the barrel and sat one end on the bridge. He paused, only long enough to make sure no one had noticed him, and then stabbed a hole in the end of the barrel. He then quickly stood, returned the barrel to his shoulder, and began marching toward the southern end of the bridge. He walked slowly and could feel the gushing lamp oil running down his back and onto the bridge timbers.