#FridayFlash – The Sleeping Army

This is part four in my Astral Mage serial, following on from The Guardian last week!

Artemuse followed Eddister through a maze of narrow corridors, their ceilings so low that even Artemuse had to duck. In places, Eddister simply crawled. Artemuse fought the rising panic that clutched at her gut, focussing on a point on Eddister’s back instead of the walls that appeared to close in at every turn. She’d grown used to the wide expansive sky surrounding her tower, to the feeling of spring breezes and an owl’s eye view of the world. These cramped tunnels were no place for her.

“Is it much further?” she asked.

“No.”

“Where are we?”

“Far below the city. These tunnels were built by the Death Cult – they originally ran below their central temple.”

They rounded a corner and the passage terminated in darkness. Eddister plunged ahead, disappearing through the doorway into a chamber beyond.

Artemuse’s eyes adjusted to the new gloom, and she found herself in a huge cavern. Darkness replaced the ceiling and the far end of the cavern – she could not begin to guess its size. Yet it was not the vastness of the of the cavern that caught her attention. Instead, her eyes were drawn to the monumental stone statues in front of her. Warriors sat astride giant chargers, and archers stood with huge bows hanging at their backs.

“Arti, meet the Sleeping Army,” said Eddister, sweeping his arm towards them and dipping into a low bow.

“Who were they?”

“Who are they, you mean! They’re only asleep. The Death Cult crafted them as a defence of the city, but as word of the vaal’kyr spread, fewer people attacked, and so they came down here to rest. It makes me wonder that Lord Draumir would take the risk.”

“Perhaps he has forgotten the vaal’kyr. Or perhaps he thinks them no match for his own wraiths.”

Eddister moved away between the statues. Even at his lofty height he still only reached the knee of the nearest warhorse. A flicker of hope sparked in Artemuse’s heart.

“Lord Draumir would stand no chance against such an army as this.”

“Exactly. The Monarch does not even know they exist. Many of the city scholars believe them to be simply myth, so they use the haze of legend to keep them in peace.” Eddister smiled, and Artemuse suspected he enjoyed his role as Guardian. She wasn’t sure what else he did with his days, but the Sleeping Army was a prize worth protecting.

“How do we wake them up?” she asked.

“You’ll have to do that. They’re asleep on our plane, but I assure you they’re wide awake on the astral plane. You’re the only astral mage I know.”

“What do I say to them? How do I ask them to wake up?”

“Explain the situation to them. If you can, seek out Lord Festiniog. He’s the battalion leader. He’ll sort out the rest. This is him,” said Eddister, pointing to a handsome man in spiked armour, sat astride a charger. The streaming mane of the horse was frozen in stone.

Artemuse made herself comfortable on the rough earth floor of the cavern, and closed her eyes. She reached out with her senses, feeling the pull of the astral plane, and clambered out of her mortal body. Seeing with her mind’s eye, the cavern was vast, and its ceiling was covered in beautiful paintings. She had no time to wonder how the Death Cult put them there, so high above the cavern floor.

The Sleeping Army milled about in the cavern. Small groups of men sat in clearings among the statues, laughing and telling stories of their exploits in war. Other men slept, and a few at the far end of the cavern practised their swordplay. Artemuse scanned their faces, seeking Lord Festiniog.

She found him near the doorway through which she and Eddister had come. He had watched their entrance, and he leaned against the wall of the cavern, the very picture of a soldier at ease. On the astral plane she found the Sleeping Army a more regular size, and Lord Festiniog was closer to the height of Eddister.

“I do not know you,” said Lord Festiniog as she approached.

“Nor I you, though I would have need of your services.”

“An astral mage seeking an army? Would you like to play at war?”

Artemuse had little time for verbal sparring, and told the commander what she’d seen approaching the city. She explained how the Monarch had not believed her, and had intended her for imprisonment, and she finished her tale with her visit to Eddister. Lord Festiniog listened carefully, scowling at the Monarch’s inaction.

“These people place a lot of faith in your abilities, Lady Owl,” he said as she finished.

“I know what I saw.”

“Then we must lend you our aid. The city never fell during our time, I see no reason for it to fall now.”

Artemuse hurried back to her body as Lord Festiniog rounded up his men to explain the situation. As she awoke, once again imprisoned in flesh and bone, she realised that Eddister had not moved from his position by the charger. If she didn’t know better, she would have thought that mere seconds had passed during her foray onto the astral plane.

“What did he say?” asked Eddister.

“He’s in. They’re going to wake up.”

“Good. I’ll lead them out, there are other tunnels more suited to their size, but you need to visit the vaal’kyr roost. You need to tell them what they face.”

Artemuse blanched.

“You want me to speak to the vaal’kyr myself?”

“I can think of none more qualified.” Eddister smiled. “Now take that door there, and simply follow the corridor. It will lead you straight to them.”

Artemuse hurried across the cavern towards the doorway. Vast sounds of creaking stone and grinding rock filled the air behind her as she plunged once again into the darkness of the tunnels.

Continues next week…