by Ben Hale
"There is something we must do, but first we need to speak to Braon and the queen,” she said, turning down the hall.
“Wait!” He lengthened his stride to catch up to her. “Why now? I mean, why tonight? Don't you have a few weeks before the fiends arrive?”
She stopped and faced him. “If I stay here, we lose. Everyone dies.”
He skidded to a stop and his jaw dropped at her revelation, reminding her of their mother, Ianna. She had always told her that she was too blunt. The memory of her mother’s voice caused Siarra to wince. Would it be different if she were here?
Siarra took a deep breath. “I have to come with you, to help you defeat Draeken.”
Taryn shook his head, “But—”
“Either way I’m pretty sure I die . . .” She paused and her expression darkened,
“. . . but not without a fight.”
Chapter 2: The Power of a Prophecy
Taryn left Siarra near Liri’s door and hurried to deliver her message. Threading his way through the House of Runya, he managed to slip outside and into the night air. While he worked his way to the Queen’s palace on the ninth tier of Azertorn he found himself mulling over Siarra’s words.
It disturbed him to hear her talk of her own death like that. In the few weeks since he'd met her, his half-sister had become much more to him than he could have imagined—and her power was unmatched in Lumineia. The idea of her at his side would be more than a little comforting. Ever since she'd told the high council that he was destined to defeat Draeken, he'd felt very, very, alone.
But if she did come with him, then who would lead the defenses? He trusted her implicitly, but at the same time it seemed impossible that someone else could match her skill. Her foresight in the battle would be invaluable. Who could do better than the Oracle?
Then he recalled Siarra placing Braon in charge of the strategic defense of Azertorn. Was it his calling to do this alone? It seemed like too much for a 15-year-old human—but, Taryn had to admit, Braon was no ordinary human.
Young and overweight, Braon still had the most strategic mind of any person Taryn had ever met. He could outplan, outthink, or outwit anyone and possessed an uncanny ability to read a person's intentions before they acted. If he were a fighter he would have been invincible.
Taryn smiled at the image of Braon with a sword and knew it would never happen. Where his mind excelled, his body lacked. It just wasn’t his place to carry a blade. The contrast between himself and the young man was too clear to ignore. Trained from an early age, Taryn had taken to swordcraft as if it was breathing, yet his talents in other areas were not quite so abundant. His abilities came from his heritage; strength and stamina from the dwarves, speed and agility from the elves, and cunning and fortitude from humans. His numerous weaknesses . . . had yet to be explained.
Together, Braon the mind, and Taryn the weapon, had to find a way to defeat Draeken and his army. For his part, Taryn would cross the kingdoms in search of the Lord of Chaos, and then pray he had enough strength to destroy him—before it was too late. While he sought the source, Braon would deal with the army. With scarcely six weeks to prepare, the eastern kingdom in ruins, and an enormous army headed towards them, it seemed impossible to do alone.
Every individual is necessary in the battle to do what's right.
Murai's words came back to him and he shook his head. How could his adoptive uncle have known how important that phrase would become? It was almost too incredible to imagine what they were about to attempt—what they must achieve—to survive.
Every race had to be gathered, prepared to fight, and then somehow be taught to fight together. And they were still going to be defeated. Millions of people had to be gathered together to defend their very existence, and every single one was going to die . . .
Unless Taryn destroyed Draeken in time.
The weight of his own calling threatened to crush him until the doors to the Queen's palace came into view. Welcoming the distraction, he hurried towards the nearest guard.
Before the elf could say anything, Taryn said, "The Oracle has requested an immediate audience with the queen. Please inform her at once."
The guard hesitated for a moment before nodding and entering the large golden doors, motioning for him to follow. Taryn fell into step behind him and frowned. He'd once heard Liri use a similar tone, and this time it had the same effect. It gave him a feeling of power that oddly made him uncomfortable.
Less than a minute later they came to a familiar door within the Queen's home. It was the same door that led to the room where Taryn and Liri had been tasked with finding the Oracle—the same Oracle that had turned out to be his half-sister.
"Wait here," the elven guard said and departed down the dim hallway.
He didn’t have to wait long before someone opened the door and ushered him in.
"You may sit," a guard said and moved to lighten the room by uncovering a flameless torch.
"The Oracle should be right behind me," Taryn said as he found a seat.
"We know, she arrived just moments ago," the elf said and turned to leave.
As if on cue Siarra skidded to a stop and slipped into the room. Out of breath, she plopped into a seat grown from a living tree. Before Taryn could say a word another door opened.
Ayame Ser'Tármaril entered the room. Tired and worn, she appeared regal at the same time. An alert guard followed her into the chamber, and Taryn felt his heart twinge as he remembered Ren, the previous bodyguard of the Queen. They had traveled together on the quest to find Siarra, and he'd given his life to save Taryn's.
How many more will perish before this is over? Taryn wondered, his throat tightening at the flood of memories. So many had died at the hands of the assassin, and their faces flashed across his mind. Only the last image brought him a measure of comfort, the one of the killer collapsing as it was vanquished.
The queen made herself comfortable before speaking. "Siarra, my dear, what has changed since our council not hours past?" Her tone made it sound like she clung to a hope that the news would be good.
"We must hold the riders for a few hours. There is something they must take with them if they are to be successful."
From within a pouch at her side Siarra drew a darkened globe of glass and handed it to the Queen.
"What is—" Ayame began, but Siarra cut her off.
"A vision," She said, "one that you must see."
For several moments she gazed into the globe before she gasped. Her serene face turned ashen gray and she began to have trouble breathing. Her wide blue eyes took on the expression of someone staring into the distance, and not a moment later, tears spilled onto her cheeks.
"What have you done to her?" Taryn and the guard asked at the same time, and both made a motion towards Ayame.
"Don't," she said. "She needs to see this." Her tone softened as she added, "It won't hurt her."
Taryn looked back at the queen and reluctantly sat down, forcing himself to watch the queen of the elves tremble. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she locked eyes with the orb.
For two long minutes they sat in silence until the queen's breath caught and her whole body jerked away from the ball. Siarra caught it as Ayame sank into the couch with her eyes closed, wrapping her arms around her stomach so tight her hands shook.
Taryn sat frozen in shock, trying to imagine what the queen had seen and at the same time afraid to know. The queen had never lost control of herself. Even when she had heard Siarra tell of the impending annihilation of her people she had held herself together.
What could cause her to act like this?
The shaking abated until the queen relaxed. A single tear escaped from an eye squeezed shut and trickled down her cheek. Then she sat up and brushed the moisture away.
"Forgive me, Oracle," the queen whispered, working her jaw and swallowing hard. "I was unprepared for what you have Seen."
Unable to control himself any longer, Taryn asked, "What did you see?"
>
Ayame's expression locked on his and he felt a shiver go down his spine at what he saw reflected back at him.
She held his gaze for a moment before answering, "I watched an endless tide of evil destroy my entire race, and then I watched our beloved Oracle fight to the death in a vain effort to let us survive."
Taryn sat bolt upright. "So we lose!" He shouted into the small room. "No! We cannot lose. I will not—"
Siarra's touch stopped him, and meeting her gaze he found a measure of solace in her expression.
"We may not be defeated, Taryn. I simply dreamed what would happen if I stayed at the city with the gathered races. That is all."
"How did you put that vision into the sphere?" Ayame asked and gestured at the ball in Siarra’s hands. "I felt like I was there, like this room was gone from my sight and I was watching everyone I knew die in front of me."
As the queen spoke, Taryn was glad to see most of her strength had returned. Her pallor had improved and her eyes had lost the stark terror that had resonated there before. The queen’s despair had almost overwhelmed him, and he realized that her unwavering courage had bolstered his own.
Siarra held up the ball of glass. "I combined the magics of mind and dreams into the orb. By placing my dream into this reservoir, I was able to make your mind feel like you were seeing it."
Ayame's gaze sharpened. "Can you make more of these?"
Siarra 's expression became expectant, "Of course, but why?"
"I want each of the riders to take one." She grimaced and looked away. "If others see this, they will be unable to refute the words of our message."
The Oracle flashed a thin smile as she leaned back. "I was thinking the same thing."
Ayame gave her a resigned nod and turned to the guard next to her. "Send word to hold the riders until we can add to their parcel."
The guard bowed. "My queen," he said, before departing.
Siarra rose to her feet and motioned for Taryn to follow suit. "I will begin at once fashioning the others. As soon as they are completed I will have the messengers depart."
The queen nodded in assent. "You must hasten, Oracle. If what I saw in your prophecy is anything close to reality . . ."
"I know, Ayame. If there is anyone that knows what is coming, it is I." Her words would have sounded condescending, but her tone betrayed the weight of knowledge. For one brief moment, Taryn considered the thought that Siarra hadn't shown her everything. The idea caused his hair to prickle, and he wondered what would be too terrible to share.
At a smile of acknowledgment from the queen, the two of them left the room. For several minutes Siarra and Taryn walked in silence down the flowering halls of the palace. Uncomfortable at the imports of the conversation, Taryn brooded on the various things they had learned.
As soon as they were outside Taryn turned towards his sister. "You knew she would want to send the orbs with the riders, didn’t you?
Siarra sighed and met his gaze. "Of course I did. I knew she would see the merit as any good monarch would."
"What else did she see?" Taryn asked, his voice catching at his own hesitation to know.
She pulled up short and he turned to ask what was wrong. The moment he saw her haunted expression his words died on his lips.
She took a moment to compose herself before responding, "If you still want to see it after we have finished making the others, I will allow it—but I promise you, you might wish you hadn't." She stared hard at him until he began to shift his feet. Then she added, "It doesn’t just show the war, it reveals glimpses of your own part in that war . . . and perhaps those who you care about." She broke eye contact and fell back into step beside him.
His mind leapt to Liri, Trin, and Mae. They had been together since they had left training, and he'd developed a sense of family with all of them. Liri's soft eyes and mischievous smile flashed through his mind again. As always, his heart began to thump awkwardly. Would he see her die in the orb?
Although he had more questions to ask Siarra, he couldn’t bring himself to open his mouth again. The way she had looked at him left him the impression that she didn't want him to see his future, but that she was still allowing him the choice. What could he witness that would cause her so much concern? The scary thought was that she might not know herself.
For the rest of the walk back to Liri's home Taryn considered his decision, but as soon as they stepped inside the House of Runya he forgot about it. Closing the door behind them, they turned to see a very flustered Liri walking towards them with her arms full of glass balls.
As with every time he saw her, he felt a sense of heat rush through his chest. Trim and blond, she carried all the hallmarks of her elven heritage. As a daughter of one of the ruling houses of Azertorn, she was also fourth in line to the crown, a kernel of information that she'd failed to mention throughout the time they had been in training. Although he now knew the truth of her lineage, he had seen no sign that it had altered their friendship.
Liri didn’t seem to notice their entrance and tried to balance the difficult load until she caught sight of them. With a squeak of surprise she took a step back. Taryn closed the distance and caught the two fragile balls that had been dislodged by her movement.
Liri glared at Siarra and blew a stray hair out of her face. "Took you long enough. I thought I was going to have to walk all the way to the palace with these."
"Why didn’t you find a bag?" Taryn asked, stifling the involuntary smile. Was he being rude?
Her expression darkened, but the twitching at the corner of her lips robbed her voice of anger. "Don't you smile at me. I couldn’t find a bag quick enough. Your sister made it sound as if I didn’t have time to get dressed."
Siarra stepped up and reached for one of the orbs. "Sorry, I didn’t have a whole lot of time."
Liri glowered at her but allowed the two of them to lighten her load. "Let's take these to my room. I assume we will need some privacy for us to do whatever you need with them." Her tone started out stern as she began walking down the hallway but a yawn softened its effect.
Taryn moved to follow her but found he couldn’t help himself. "Er . . . could we stop and get a bag to carry them? I think I might drop one." Of all the people he knew, why was it so easy to talk to Liri?
Liri whirled, her eyes flashing, but then bit her lip to hide the smile and ignored his comment. "I don't know why you had to go with her anyway," she said. "You could have stayed to help me."
He grinned. "Good morning to you too."
"Good morning," she said, her smile winning the fight. "I hope you slept well?"
He felt another rush of heat and decided to change the subject. "Have either of you had breakfast?"
When both of them shook their heads, he said, "I'll grab some food from the kitchen and meet the two of you in Liri's room?"
Without waiting for an answer he turned down a corridor. Half a step away he heard Liri protest, "Do you know the way?" Even with his back turned he heard the smile in her tone.
He glanced back with a grin and waited to turn a corner before trying to figure out where to go. Directions weren't one of his areas of strength, but he didn't want to admit what Liri knew already. He did remember the general direction and it didn’t take him long to find the kitchens again. Grabbing some food and drink he stuffed them into a leather bag and couldn’t resist putting the orbs into a second pouch he managed to find.
Five minutes later he was threading his way back to Liri's personal quarters and soon arrived at her door. For a moment he hesitated. Should he knock? He shifted for a moment as he considered whether or not making a noise would interrupt whatever Siarra was doing. Sighing, he opened the door and slipped into the large antechamber adjacent to Liri's bedroom.
In front of him Siarra sat cross-legged on the floor holding an orb in her hands. Her eyes were closed and she muttered incoherently while bands of light seeped from her closed eyelids and entered the ball, brightening it more and more until it went da
rk.
"How many have you made?" Taryn asked, astonished at how withered she looked. Since he'd seen her unbound when she came of age, he'd never seen her appear weak.
Liri answered, her tone worried, "That's only the second."
Siarra smiled weakly. "I have to trap my vision into the orb and add enough energy to keep it there. Energy doesn't store very well you know. On top of that I also added a touch of prophecy magic. It will make it so the person who activates it will see glimpses of people they think about. I imagine they will think about the people that mean the most to them, and briefly see what will happen to them during the war." Her eyes flicked to Taryn, reminding him of her response when he'd asked to see the orb.
Without noticing his renewed consternation, Siarra continued, "This particular piece of magic will work just once or twice before it's gone. To create a permanent orb of prophecy would require decades of effort."
"So the orbs have to be seen first by the ruler?" Taryn asked.
"Correct, so I will have to make a few more. I believe eight will suffice. Other races will be driven here on their own, or join groups that have been warned."
"Can you make six more?" Liri asked.
Siarra looked doubtful. "To do this right should take weeks or months." She glanced at them and saw their concern, so she shrugged and added, "I have to. This is the only way." Then she caught sight of Taryn and frowned, her eyebrows twitching. "You need some rest Taryn."
"I'm fine," he protested, but her scowl deepened.
"Don't give me that. You haven't slept at all." She rose to her feet and ushered him towards the door. "We will finish these."
"But—"
"Even a dwarf has to sleep," she said, and shooed him out the door. "I will see you in the morning."
The door closed with a thud, leaving him alone in the dim hallway. Sighing, he trudged towards his room. He didn't want to admit it, but he was exhausted. After the wild rush to get to Azertorn, and then the disturbing revelations he'd heard there, he could barely keep himself awake. Despite that, he wondered if Siarra and Liri hadn't wanted his help.