by Aaron Thomas
“I know of at least one wizard that talks to himself and he has been more than a friend to me,” Kilen said, walking away from the group towards the wagons. Using the water vision, Kilen watched Alexander use his hands to have the others remain behind while he gave chase.
“Kilen,” Alexander said, catching up. “You and I both know that I do not hear voices. Why are you bringing a madman with us.”
“I don’t think he is mad. Different, yes, but mad, no. Besides, he spent a lot of time with Mrs. Augustine, and I think I can use that to my advantage,” Kilen said as he grabbed a brush for his horse.
“Did that infernal woman trick you into taking him?” Alexander asked.
“No, I believe I tricked her into letting me,” Kilen said as his brush hand paused. “Alexander, you may not have to like it, but I am bringing him along. I am king, am I not?”
Alexander nodded his head, and Kilen continued, “Then that will be the end of it. How is my wife?”
“Your Majesty, I did not stop to speak with the queen. I simply got an update from the commander and came as quick as I could,” Alexander said, bowing low to the ground.
Kilen growled slightly at the wind wizard’s sarcastic response and over dramatization in his bow. Kilen knew he would have to watch himself or Alexander would treat him just as he had King Atmos. He didn’t want that, Alexander meant more than just a councilmen to him, he was a friend.
Kilen gave him a half smile, “I know you are a busy man Alexander, so I won’t keep you long. If you have any more information to report from Leviathan, I would love to hear it. If not, you can freshen yourself up with what we have here and be off to prepare for your encounter with the soul wizard. I wouldn’t want you to be worn out for that engagement.”
Alexander gave a half bow this time and smiled, “You have a little over two thousand troops counting the ones residing in Basham. If Ray is able to train them, one hundred and fifty will be armed with imbuements. Bowie is sending in more troops every day, but it’s rumored that he will soon reach the swamp. I doubt if he will find anyone to recruit there.”
“Bowie is a bit of a legend,” Kilen said. “If there is anyone to recruit, Bowie will be able to do it. I, on the other hand, have not once been successful.”
Alexander placed a hand on Kilen’s shoulder, “Yet, you do not force them to join the army. Your compassion as a king will be spoken of for years after your children’s rule.”
“Compassion will not win this war,” Kilen argued.
“It will get you more than you think it will, Majesty,” Alexander said, before backing away.
**********
Bowie finished tightening the straps to his saddle while he waited for Auburn. They usually left town just after breakfast, but today Auburn began talking to a man very interested in hearing all about their adventures.
It was now past noon, if they didn’t leave soon, they wouldn’t make it to the swamp before dark. He’d heard stories and wanted to have the fire lit well before the sun set. To do that, he would have to get Auburn away from that man. Charger let out a neigh as if he was in as much frustration as his master.
Thunder echoed Charger’s frustration as if the wind itself was reacting to Bowie’s mood. He quickly checked his chaingers to make sure the wind imbuements weren’t connected to him. He knew they weren’t but checked it anyway, then grew even angrier because of the impending rain that would be upon them.
Quickly, he tied shut his last saddle bag and started to stomp in the direction of the inn. Before he could reach the door, he heard Auburn’s voice exit just before her. She was dressed in traveling clothes and was being followed by a man dressed in bright greens and blues. Her hands were empty, but her bags were carried by the man just behind her.
The man was someone Bowie knew he’d recognize, had he known him. He had blonde wavy hair and broad shoulders. His teeth were so white that Bowie was sure he could see his reflection in them. It was no wonder Auburn was late with a man like that offering to carry her bags. His clothes were made of finer silk than Bowie had ever purchased. His clothes practically shimmered in the last bit of sunlight passing through the clouds.
Bowie wondered what Auburn had done to hook the man into following her.
“Master Crescent, may I present-” Auburn said before she was cut off.
The man passed his hand around Bowie’s redheaded companion nearly knocking her to the side, “My name is Bastion. It is an honor to meet you, Master Crescent.”
Bowie ignored the hand and reached for Auburn’s bags, “You’re late, and now we’re going to get stuck in a storm.”
Auburn followed him to the horses, “We were going to get stuck in the storm anyways. We’re heading to a swamp with no towns. Besides, Bastion here is going to tag along and thinks he may be able to keep us dry.”
“Yes. You see, I have heard a story about a water wizard that didn’t like to get wet,” Bastion said.
Bowie held up his hand to stop him and turned to Auburn, “You know I said I would recruit soldiers, but I wouldn’t allow them to ride with us. Get on your horse.”
Auburn put her hands on her hips, “Just because I wear your ring doesn’t mean I have to listen to you like we’re married. I will get on my horse when I want, and Bastion is not a recruit.”
Bowie pushed himself off his stirrup and settled into his saddle, “I don’t care who he is. I’m leaving for the swamp now, and if you want to join me, you better get moving.”
He spurred his horse forward as thunder rumbled in the sky. He cursed the storm that was chasing him, not the one in the clouds, but the one in the form of a green army riding to Leviathan. The same storm he had given so much power in not only the form of trained archers but also imbuements.
Before the small town vanished from the horizon, Bowie could see a trail of dust. Perhaps she has come to join me after all, he thought. He reigned in Charger and pulled the horse to the side of the road, waiting for her.
While he waited, Bowie did his best to restore Charger’s energy. It cost him his own, but he knew the bead imbued with earth would restore him while he waited. Looking the direction he was traveling, he saw someone walking on the path ahead of him. Kicking Charger to a trot, he slowly caught up.
“Hello, stranger,” Bowie called out.
The hooded man turned and gave a small wave, then continued on. Bowie approached the stranger with caution since he hadn’t seen the man earlier and was confused about where he had come from.
“Are you going into the swamp?” Bowie asked as he came abreast to the man.
The middle-aged man pulled back his hood just enough to show his weathered face. “The swamp is where I live, so yes, that is where I am going,” He answered.
“Do many people live in the swamp?”
The man stopped and turned to Bowie on the road. He said nothing, only stood staring as if looking for something hidden on Bowie’s face. Looking back down the road he must have seen Auburn because he continued along the path using his walking stick to steady his awkward gait.
“If you lived in the swamp, you would know the number of people there, but it is not up to me to tell of it. Why do you ask?” The man asked.
“My name is Bowie Crescent.”
The man stopped briefly then started again, “Are you the Fletcher, battle hero, or commander of armies?”
“I suppose I am all of them,” Bowie answered. “Although, I didn’t lead any army. Matter of fact, I was demoted before I could.”
The man continued to walk, “You can only be one of them, Master Crescent. Which one are you?”
Bowie was starting to get irritated, “Why don’t you tell me since you know so much about me?”
The man stopped and placed both hands on the top of his walking stick. He put his chin on his hands and stared at Bowie for a moment. The man’s brown eyes made it seem as if a wealth of knowledge waited behind his stoic features.
“I know only what the rumors have spoken of y
ou. Your answer, though, that would tell me who you really are.”
Bowie looked back and saw that the dust trail was some distance off yet. He got out of the saddle and stood to look at the man, pondering his answer. “If I had to choose just one, I am probably a Fletcher.”
“Probably? Why do you say probably? Do you not know yourself?” The man asked in quick succession before starting to walk again.
Bowie ran his hands through his hair in frustration before tugging on Charger to catch up to the man’s surprisingly fast pace. “I know myself, it’s just I never intended to be a hero or a leader. I have always been and will always be a Fletcher.”
The man smiled and gave a small nod, “It is good you have found yourself. I am going into the swamp.”
“Would you mind if my friends and I came along? I hear it is dangerous to travel the waters in the swamp,” Bowie said, full of hope.
“It is dangerous,” He said. “Traveling the mire grows more dangerous by the day.”
“Why is that? I’m sorry, what is your name again?” Bowie asked.
The man smiled between strides of his limp, “Do not be sorry, I haven’t given my name. It is Dorian. Before I answer your other question, you must answer mine. Why do you want to travel the swamp?”
Bowie had begun to feel as if every question asked was a test. He wondered what game the man was playing at, so he chose his words wisely. “During my travels, I met a woman by the name of Ria. She claimed that the swamp was full of rogue wizards that were hiding there. I would like to speak with them.”
“What would you speak to them about?” Dorian asked.
“I already answered your question, you need honor the deal and answer mine. Will you take my friends and me into the swamp?” Bowie asked with a smirk.
Dorian smiled and looked over the top of his staff as he stopped briefly, “You are definitely the master fletcher and businessman. I will take you, but your friends will have to answer a few questions first. Now, what do you wish to speak to them about?”
“If you’ve heard rumors about me, you will know my friend Kilen is the new king of the Water Realm. I’m recruiting men to come and face Atmos to protect Leviathan and this realm. I want to try and convince them to join,” Bowie said.
“It was not Ria’s place to talk about the wizards here,” Dorian said.
“You know Ria?” Bowie asked.
“Know her? I despise her, Dorian said. He scoffed and changed his tone of voice to that of an irritated man, “She spends too much time outside of the swamp. She spends too much time with the Elder Wizards. It’s just like her to get caught up in the schemes of kings and their archers.”
“I’m a fletcher,” Bowie corrected.
The man gave a small chuckle, “Indeed, you are. When we get to the swamp, we will wait for your friends. I will ask my questions and see if I can trust them to join us. In the morning we will venture into the swamp, but I cannot guarantee that the rogues will see you. They are very finicky.”
“You mean that you are very finicky,” Bowie smirked again.
Dorian held out his hand and in it grew a small flame. He clasped his hand shut, and the fire vanished. “To overcome what the swamp holds for us you will need every ounce of magic Ria has lent you. Are you up to the task, master fletcher?”
Bowie gave a nod, and they continued to hobble along the road. The rain started to pour down on him and the dust trail that Auburn was making disappeared from his view. It would take her longer now to catch to them with the ground being turned into slick mud by the rain. The downpour made the next hour of walking seem to take days. He felt cold down to his bones as the water had seeped to every inch of his skin just as they arrived at the outskirts of the swamp.
Bowie tried to tie off his tent to a tree but was warned against getting too close to the swamp. Instead, he attempted to nail the stakes into the muddy ground but knew he would have to hammer them in again before he settled in for the night. Auburn finally arrived and said nothing as Bowie helped her construct her tent as well. Dorian sat in the rain as if it was a light sprinkle and poked at the mud with his walking stick.
As the dark overcame the camp the rain stopped, and Dorian made easy work of lighting some soaked logs. Auburn shook as she tried to warm herself by the fire and the group sat in silence, listening to the spontaneous cracking of burning wood. Bowie pulled out some bread and cheese he’d packed. Auburn, in turn, passed him some dried meat. He tore off a chunk of each and handed it to Dorian.
“Where is your friend, Auburn?” Bowie asked.
She stopped eating and stared at him with a look only a scorned woman could produce, “You told me he couldn’t come.”
“Since when has what I said stopped you from doing what you want?” Bowie asked, tearing off another piece of dried meat.
“I don’t think we should be having this discussion in front of strangers,” Auburn replied.
“Oh, this is Dorian, he’s a fire wizard that’s going to take me through the swamp.”
“We’re just sharing everything with strange wizards on the trail? I didn’t think you were so sloppy, letting everyone know who you are,” Auburn said, standing.
Dorian’s hands lit up in flame, casting a weird glow on the trees and grass behind him. The lights began to dance in the air until Auburn began backing away as they neared her. The balls of flame vanished, leaving little bright spots against the background of the clouded night in Bowie’s vision. Dorian stood and removed the rain soaked hood from his head. Steam rose off of his head as he smiled.
“A little light show to get your attention, Miss Auburn,” Dorian said, bowing. “I have heard of your faithful companionship to Master Crescent here. Although, I had no idea it was this vibrant of a relationship.”
“We are not in a relationship,” Bowie said flatly from his moss-covered stump.
“I’m wearing your ring,” Auburn snapped at him.
Bowie gave a bit of a laugh, “No, you're wearing the ring I got off of a dead man. Besides, you’re the one that keeps insinuating I’m not good enough for you.”
Dorian’s body lit up in flame like the morning sun, and just as quickly as it lit, it vanished, leaving him smoking.
“Whether or not you are in a relationship is not what I intended for this conversation. Please, Auburn, have a seat,” Dorian said, holding out his hand to where she had been seated. “I had intended on getting to know you a bit better if you don’t mind? I ask these questions to see if I feel it is okay to travel with you in the swamp.”
Auburn gave a slight nod after sitting. “Ask your questions, wizard,” Auburn commanded.
He gave a half smile and a nod of his head. Dorian picked up his walking stick and rolled it between the palm of his hands as if in deep thought.
“Who are you?” Dorian asked.
It was the same question he asked Bowie. Bowie figured it was a device to measure someone's self-worth, their passions, and ambitions. He was excited to see what Auburn’s answers would be. He watched as Auburn’s jaw began to tighten in frustration.
“My name is Auburn,” She said flatly.
Dorian held up a hand and shook the answer away as if it was an annoying gnat. “I don’t want to know your name, I know that already. I know you are a fletcher’s daughter, a warrior at the latest battle for the Earth Realm, and a wielder.”
Dorian got up and moved around the campfire and finally found his resting place next to Auburn on a fallen tree. He again, twirled the stick between his hands as he stared into the fire. Just before Auburn spoke again, he stopped her with his whispering voice. “You are a hero amongst women and common folk. You are a woman with a death sentence from King Atmos. You have put your life on the line in the battle for more men than who will ever know that you even existed, all because you are in the shadow of the hero archer; Master Bowie Crescent of the Black Hats. Of all these things are you and again I ask you, who are you?”
He leaned the staff against his forehe
ad and waited for an answer. Bowie gave a small chuckle to himself. He knew how frustrating it was to be on the other side of that question. Although, Auburn looked a bit more distraught from the questions than Bowie had been. He almost felt sympathy for her. Almost.
Her answer came so low that Bowie couldn’t hear it over the crackling flame. Dorian leaned in close, putting an arm around her shoulders. Bowie couldn’t hear the words he spoke to her, but he could see the tears rolling down her face. The two stayed that way for a while, whispering back and forth. The more they did, the more Auburn’s face brightened. Eventually, Bowie finished his food and Dorian rose from the log.
Dorian looked down at Bowie while leaning on his staff, “Get some sleep. You will need to be alert tomorrow.”
Bowie threw another soaked log on the fire before he went to prepare for sleep. The fire hissed which caused Charger to jump a bit. Bowie loosened the straps on his saddle and hefted it over a tree branch nearby. He hoped the next few days would be dry and Charger would be ready to ride. Opening one of the saddle bags, Bowie pulled out a soggy blanket and watched the water dribble out of one end. He shoved the blanket roll back into the bag and looked for something to prop himself up on for the night.
Auburn’s hand felt warm as she gently covered his on top of the saddlebag. Bowie flinched at its warmth but didn’t pull back. She gave Bowie a half-grin and reached inside his bag pulling out the soaked blanket. Auburn’s eyes closed and water snaked it’s way out of the blanket and into a nearby puddle.
She smiled at Bowie, “Brent taught me. I can remove the water from your clothes if you want.”
Bowie nodded and instantly felt his waterlogged clothes become lighter and warmer as the water departed in a cloud of steam.
He smiled, “Thanks.”
She shrugged her shoulders, “I will take watch tonight. Dorian says you need your sleep and I can’t go along. I’ll wait here until you are done in the swamp.”
Auburn’s hand finally left Bowie’s as she picked up her bow and quiver. He watched her disappear into the darkness just outside the campfire’s light. She leaned up against the back side of a tree, probably hoping he couldn’t hear her. Bowie watched her with the wind vision as he wrapped himself in his blanket near the fire. He couldn’t be sure but thought she was crying again.