A Gathering of Armies

by Christopher Williams

  This time they didn’t walk more than twenty yards before Keenan stopped. Flare, who was walking behind Keenan and with his eyes on the ground, stopped suddenly and looked up. “What?” he began to ask, but he didn’t finish the question; he quickly became aware of why they had stopped.

  The Elven Guard had arrived.

  Chapter 34

  Flare realized just how tired he was as he stared at the Elven Guard. He should have heard them coming, should have sensed them, but they had gotten right up on him and Keenan.

  There were four of them, each typical of the members of the Elven Guard. They were young, and in good shape. Like most elves they were tall and thin, although their leather armor and cloaks tended to make it hard to see much of their physical appearance. Each of them wore a long sword on their hip, but it was the bow in their hands that made them so dangerous. The guard was known for their proficiency with the bow and arrow. Elven archers in general were the best in the world, and the guard were the best of the elves.

  The leader, who appeared the oldest of the small group, stood on the path blocking their way forward. Another male elf stepped out on the trail behind them, cutting off their only means of retreat; not that Flare and Keenan meant to run, but the guard couldn’t know that.

  Two more elves stayed to either side. On their right another elven male stood; his eyes watching them intently.

  To their left was a young female member of the guard. Like the humans, the Elven Guard was made up of both males and females, and they served side-by-side.

  “Prince Flaranthlas, my name is Nickolon. I will escort you to Solistine.”

  Flare stepped up, moving past Keenan, to face the elven leader. “Well met, Nickolon. Are you the same elves that have been following us?”

  Nickolon nodded. “Yes, we came across your path and have been following ever since, although we were puzzled at how your trail begins. It almost seems as if it appeared out of the air.”

  Flare chose not to respond to the question about their trail. He didn’t want to explain to these elves about Wizard’s Portals. “Why did you wait so long to intercept us?” Flare asked.

  Nickolon paused and Flare got the feeling he was trying to determine how best to answer the question. Elves rarely lied, but they weren’t above twisting their words. “I sent one of my rangers for instructions.”

  “Oh,” Flare said, suddenly understanding. “So your orders are to escort us?”

  Nickolon paused again. “No, I’m still waiting for my orders. But as you are a day’s journey from Solistine, I could wait no longer.”

  Flare frowned at the explanation. “Surely this ranger of yours should have been able to get orders and make it back, shouldn’t he?”

  Nickolon smiled. “Yes, he should have, but he didn’t.” He turned partially and motioned on down the path. “If you’ll follow me, we’re wasting time and we would like to get moving.”

  “Meek as a lamb,” Keenan whispered beside Flare.

  If Keenan meant for only Flare to hear him, he’d forgotten about the elves superior hearing; as it was they all heard his words, even if only Flare knew what they meant.

  Keenan and Flare walked the trail slowly, following the guard leader. The other three guard members disappeared into the woods, moving nearly soundlessly. Flare knew that they would stay close, but they would act as both a forward guard and a rear guard. They were being, if anything, careful with the king’s grandson.

  In the early afternoon, they stopped for a quick lunch. Three of their four Elven Guard escorts remained in the woods, with only the leader eating lunch with them. He, too, had hollenstren bread, but in addition he had some fruits and cheeses that were welcome beyond measure to Keenan and Flare.

  “May I ask you something?” Nickolon asked.

  “Of course,” Flare replied.

  “Why have you come back? Surely you must know that the king is most displeased with you.”

  “I’m aware,” Flare said with a sigh. “Some things are just that important.” For a moment he considered leaving it alone, but then he added, “Do you know of the coming war?”

  Nickolon looked unimpressed. “Pah! Human wars in human lands do not concern the elves.”

  “They should,” Flare said slowly, “especially when it involves the elven curse.”

  Nickolon straightened in surprise. The curse wasn’t mentioned, especially not in front of a human. “I don’t think we should discuss this,” he said simply, but the friendly tone was gone from his voice. He didn’t mean that they shouldn’t talk about this, but rather that he wouldn’t continue the conversation.

  Flare shrugged. After all, Nickolon had asked.

  For several moments there was silence, but once again Nickolon spoke. “Another thing, we’ve followed you since you entered the forest, but today you seem,” he paused and searched how best to express his thoughts, “tired.”

  Flare chuckled. “I’m exhausted,” he admitted. “I didn’t sleep at all last night. In fact, it’s only the hollenstren bread that’s keeping me moving.”

  Nickolon’s eyes darkened at the mention of the hollenstren bread and it took Flare a moment to remember that they had stole if from one of the guardhouses. Oh well, he thought, one more thing they can hold against me.

  “The time has come for us to start again,” Nickolon said. “We can’t waste too much time or we’ll be late to the city.”

  Flare hardly thought that was possible as he wasn’t sure anyone was expecting him, and he was even more confident that few would welcome him anyway.

  “How long until we reach the city?” Keenan asked.

  Nickolon looked at him with mistrust. For a moment, it seemed that he wouldn’t answer, but his elven grace got the better of him. “We should reach the city tomorrow, roughly mid-morning.”

  They continued their march throughout the afternoon. Nickolon kept the pace leisurely, possibly in deference to Flare’s exhaustion or perhaps because Flare was the king’s grandson.

  They also stopped several times to rest briefly. Nickolon was no fool; he was escorting the grandson of the king. Regardless of the welcome that Flare could expect, he wanted no part of angering the king.

  They made camp that evening in a small hollow, beneath a large sycamore tree. The ground around the base of the sycamore was slowly collapsing into the hollow and the sycamore was leaning. It wasn’t in any danger of falling soon, but Flare guessed that by the end of the summer, the tree would no longer be standing.

  They made a small fire and once again ate hollenstren bread, fruits, and cheeses. After dinner, Nickolon organized the watch schedules for his three subordinates; apparently since he was the leader, he didn’t have to stand a watch.

  The last thing that Nickolon said to them before he lay down to go to sleep was, “I suggest you get some sleep. My men will be guarding us throughout the night and nothing can get near enough to hurt us.”

  Flare thought there was another meaning in the elven leader’s words. His men would also be watching Flare and Keenan, and he wanted them to know they couldn’t get away.

  Keenan looked displeased with the whole situation and he glowered at Flare.

  For his part, Flare simply shrugged his shoulders and lay down. He was exhausted and was almost immediately asleep.

  Flare slept peacefully for the entire night, waking at dawn, feeling rested and refreshed. His head still hurt, but the pain was subsiding. He sat up and stretched, wondering what had awoken him. That was when he noticed Nickolon and two of his rangers; they were also sitting up, their blankets hanging loosely on them. All three stared out into the forest. Only Keenan remained asleep.

  “What is it?” Flare whispered, suddenly alert. Whatever had woke him, had also bothered the Elven Guard.

  “Quiet!” Nickolon snapped.

  They sat in silence for several moments, but whatever it was did not repeat itself. After several more moments, Nickolon turned to the two rangers, who still sat on their blankets. He poi
nted to the woman and motioned off to the east; then he pointed at the man and motioned to the west. They both nodded and then disappeared into the woods; they moved silently, not so much as bending a leaf or jostling a branch.

  Flare rose and silently moved over to kneel beside Keenan. He placed his hand across the man’s mouth, instantly causing his eyes to pop open. Flare held a finger to his mouth and Keenan nodded once.

  Keenan threw his blanket off and sat up. He stretched and looked around questioningly.

  Flare shrugged and indicated with his hand to wait.

  For several long moments, nothing happened. Then, there were two ‘thunks,’ and a grunt of pain.

  “Run,” Nickolon called out. He paused only long enough to pull Flare and Keenan to their feet, and then he pushed them in front of him, toward the trees.

  Surprised, Keenan and Flare hurriedly moved to obey. There was another ‘thunk’ from behind them and Flare glanced back. Nickolon, with a surprised look on his face, collapsed to the ground, a long arrow protruding from his back.

  Flare skidded to a stop and took a step toward the fallen ranger.

  “No,” Keenan said, coming back for Flare. “He’s dead, or he will be soon.”

  Reluctantly, Flare nodded and they sprinted up the side of the hollow and out into the trees.

  After twenty or thirty yards, they paused, listening for any sound of pursuit. Briefly, Flare considered using sorcery, and the mere thought of using sorcery caused his head to vibrate with pain.

  There was no indication of where their attackers were. They stood still, in absolute silence, but no sound reached them. After a few moments, Keenan tapped Flare’s shoulder and motioned that they should move on. Flare nodded, and followed Keenan further into the woods.

  They broke through a line of bushes and Keenan pulled up sharply, so suddenly in fact, that Flare walked into his back. Peering around his companion, Flare could see why Keenan had stopped so abruptly. Two figures stood in the open area just past the bushes. Each person was dressed completely in black and they held bows pointing right at Keenan and Flare.

  Chapter 35

  Flare and Keenan slowly raised their hands in front of them. Both men subconsciously braced for an arrow to be shot at them at any moment, but it never happened. Instead, the two black-clad figures moved forward, still holding their bows aimed and ready.

  “Who are you?” Flare asked.

  “Be quiet!” The nearest figure said. “We were instructed to bring you back alive, but nothing was said about the human.”

  Flare nodded his head but didn’t answer. He learned a couple of things from the response. One; these black-clad figures were elves, as they referred to Keenan as ‘the human.’ The fact that these were elves was surprising. Elves did not kill lightly, and they never killed other elves. These fighters had just done that, as Flare was sure the four rangers that had been escorting them were now dead.

  The second thing he’d learned was that they wanted him alive. Even though he’d been instructed not to resist, Flare still wouldn’t have been surprised if these men had tried to kill him.

  Flare jumped when hands touched him from behind. More black-clad elves had come up on them from the rear and now they probed his clothes. There were two more elves behind him and they took his and Keenan’s pack, their cloaks, and their knives. Then one of the elves behind them shook his head at those in front of them.

  The elf who had spoken before, moved up closer, getting right in front of Flare. “Where’s Ossendar?” he demanded. He spoke in a low and threatening manner.

  Flare shook his head. “I didn’t bring it with me.”

  “Lies,” the elf said. “Tell me where it is, or I’ll kill the human.”

  Taking a deep breath, Flare told the truth. “I left it at the castle,” he said simply, neglecting to mention that the castle was easily accessible.

  The elf stared at him for a long moment and then backed away. He looked to the elves behind Flare and Keenan. “Bind them,” he said simply.

  Strong hands grabbed them and bound their hands behind their backs with leather cords. When they were done, the elven leader stepped back up in front of Flare and said, “I’ve got something else for you.”

  Flare felt something being lowered over his neck. He looked down and felt his blood go cold. A medallion had been placed around his neck; it was something he’d seen before. The medallion was enchanted and he knew it would prevent him from using sorcery.

  “Recognize that, don’t you?” the elven leader asked. He’d already read the answer in Flare’s eyes. “Using sorcery would be excruciating.”

  Flare didn’t need the elf to tell him that. He’d worn just such a medallion before, and trying to use sorcery while it was on had nearly killed him. The medallion prevented the wearer from removing it themselves, they needed someone else’s help to get the damn thing off. The pain increased with each attempt at using sorcery, until Flare had begun blacking out. Toward the end, he’d begun to suspect that it might kill him. When he’d last worn a medallion like this, he’d managed to use the pouch to free himself. He’d traveled to Diana’s castle, where she’d removed the medallion for him. That might happen again, but he rather doubted it. So much for being told to not to resist, there was precious little he could do anyway.

  The elves marched them toward Solistine, going in the same general direction that the Elven Guard had been taking them. They were getting close and Flare knew it. He was confused as to who these men were, but he knew they were not acting on behalf of his grandfather, the king. King Feilolas did not like humans, but he would not condone killing either Flare or the four members of the Elven Guard.

  Several times, they stopped, not to rest, but to hide. Their elven escorts either saw something or heard something, and they didn’t want to get caught. Each time they stopped, one of the guards held a knife to Keenan’s throat. The threat was meant for both of them; they couldn’t kill Flare without angering whoever sent them, but they could kill his companion.

  It was an unnecessary threat, as neither man had plans to try and escape, at least not in the immediate future, anyway.

  The guards set a fast pace for them, and Flare was thankful for the full-night’s rest. He doubted whether he could have maintained this pace yesterday.

  They continued traveling until late morning, finally stopping once they reached a small, decrepit-looking shack.

  “You’re taking us … here?” Flare asked, staring at the structure; it looked like a reasonably strong wind would blow it right over.

  “Silence!” the elven leader snapped. “Get inside.”

  Keenan and Flare did as instructed, entering the small structure while the four elves fanned out around them.

  “Watch them,” the elven leader said and he moved to the center of the room. He bent down and pulled open a cleverly disguised trapdoor built into the floor. Just below the level of the floor, a ladder descended into the dimness. There was a light somewhere down there, as it wasn’t completely dark.

  One of the elves went down first, then the leader removed the leather straps from Flare’s wrists. “Behave yourself,” he said, motioning toward one of the other elves, who held a knife to Keenan’s throat. “Make no mistake, he’ll kill him.”

  Flare nodded, rubbed his wrists a couple of times, and then descended the latter. The descent was not deep, roughly ten feet. He stepped off the ladder onto a dirty stone floor. He paused at the bottom of the ladder and looked around. The room was small, less than ten feet square. There were two doors to his right and two more to his left. The doors were made of oak planks, covered in metal straps; they reminded Flare of the doors to the dungeon in Telur. The elf that had gone down the ladder first, waited for him, sword in hand.

  They didn’t have long to wait as the elven leader stepped off the ladder right behind Flare. He motioned to one of the doors to Flare’s right. “Open the door and go inside.”

  Flare did as he was instructed, stepping into a
tiny room that could only be a cell. The floor was filthy and there wasn’t anything to sit or lie on, excepting the floor of course.

  The door slammed shut and he could hear the sound of it being bolted.

  Flare sighed and sat down, resting his back against the wall. A fear that first occurred to him as these elves marched him along came back stronger than ever. Could I have been deceived? Did I misunderstand what Osturlius said? The feeling that he was doing what he was supposed to was barely there anymore. The fear that everything had gone wrong was growing and it gnawed at him.

  A few moments later, he heard another door slamming shut and a second bolt being thrown into place. He breathed a sigh of relief. He had been afraid that once he was in this cell, that Keenan would no longer be of any value and that they might kill him. He was pleased that at least that fear hadn’t come true.

  Resigned to being made to wait, Flare settled down and managed to fall asleep.

  Flare awoke to the sound of the bolt being drawn on the door. He sat up as the door was opened, and he rubbed his eyes in the suddenly blinding light.

  “On your feet,” the all-to-familiar voice of the elven leader said.

  Flare did as he was told and climbed to his feet.

  The elf moved into the cell and for the first time, Flare saw his face. He studied him for a moment, wondering if he’d ever seen this elf before. To the best of his recollection, they’d never met.

  “Come on,” the elf snapped. He stepped to the side, motioning Flare out the door.

  Stepping through the door, Flare blinked at the bright light. He was certain that it hadn’t been this bright when he first climbed down the ladder; it had to be brighter now than before.

  Flare stood there, blinking in the bright light for several moments. He could tell that there were others in the small room, but for a moment all he could make out were their feet. Finally, his eyes quit tearing and he could see again. He looked up and his mouth dropped open in surprise. His uncle, Prince Yolstice stood before him. At his uncle’s side stood Bantharuis, Flare’s cousin.