by Ben Hale
“Perhaps not," Siarra said. "When the races gather at Azertorn, they will be forced to work together.” Her laugh was ironic. “If they don’t kill each other—and if they survive—then I believe a time of peace could return.”
Mae agreed, her tone pensive. “It would be good to see such a time again.”
Trin laughed out loud. “I’d like to see elves and dwarves mingle with humans.” He threw a sly glance at Taryn. “Although the sight isn’t pretty when they do . . .”
His laughter was contagious, and Taryn couldn’t help but join in. Yet even as he chuckled he found his eyes drawn to the east. The mention of his heritage served as a cold reminder of who he had to face.
They took a short break around noon and were on the road soon after. Liri continued to share information about the surface races, as well as the ones that lived underground or in the water. Taryn was especially intrigued by the description of the black skinned elves that were the mortal enemy of their surface cousins. Although they rarely came to the surface, when they did it was to pillage or destroy. Liri also described the deep gnomes, who were rumored to be just as vicious as the dark elves.
When Trin asked how she knew so much about the different races, she flushed and responded, “My . . . position . . . required that I learn of all the races.”
Taryn smiled, recalling the conversation when she'd revealed her status in Azertorn. She had been born a princess, and even though there were three elven women closer to the Queen, she had still been groomed for leadership.
Liri changed the subject and went on to talk about the dark skinned tribes of humans that lived on the central islands of the Blue Lake. Constantly at war with each other, they rarely ventured out.
"It is unfortunate," Siarra sighed, "because united the Azüre people would be one of the strongest nations. Ultimately, their pride prevents them from achieving such a feat."
"What do you mean 'their pride'?" Trin asked.
"Each tribe is distinct, with their own hierarchy and leadership." She shrugged and raised her eyebrows. "No one wants to give up their power."
"But didn't we send a runner to them?" Taryn frowned, thinking of the elf's chances.
"Indeed," Siarra replied, "But I fear his effort will be in vain. Even if there was one leader he could deliver the orb to, it is doubtful he will make it onto the islands." She paused and her voice tightened. "Outsiders tend to be executed."
The Oracle's tone discouraged further conversation, and for a while they rode in silence. As the afternoon sun began to descend, Trin asked, “What about the races to the north?”
Liri’s brow furrowed and she shook her head. “Truthfully, I don’t know much about the far north. I do know that orcs, gnomes, and trolls live in the large plains and deserts north of the lake. I have heard that the gnomes live to the northeast of the dwarves. I am not sure about the others.”
"Most of the orcs and gnomes live together in Ryazan," Jack said, entering the conversation for the first time.
Taryn swiveled in his saddle, but Jack just shrugged and added, "They can be a rowdy bunch, but on occasion the city is worth visiting."
The disinterest in the thief's expression didn't match the ghost of a smile that passed on his lips, causing Trin to snort. "Did you get anything good?"
This time Jack laughed, "Of course."
When he was clear he didn't intend to explain, Mae asked, "Do you know anything about the trolls?"
"They don't have much of value."
Taryn hid a smile and turned forward, recognizing that Jack's motivations were—at least on the surface—fairly straightforward. After considering his words though, he realized that Jack hadn't answered the question. Did he know more about the trolls?
Trin was still laughing at Jack's comment, but said, “We had quite a few problems with trolls. They liked to travel through the northern foothills that marked the border between our lands. More than half of our entire army was stationed in those forts, my father and brother among them—” He blinked and spun towards Taryn "—Wait . . . when we passed the refugees from Terros I didn’t see any flags from the northern garrisons!” Hope infused his tone and he sat back in his saddle, biting his lip.
Siarra hesitated, and then asked. “There might be a way to find out if the northern troops were killed—but not yet.”
Trin's mouth had opened, but it closed with a click, and the light that had blossomed on his face evaporated. "Why not?" He demanded.
"The distance is too great. When we get closer, perhaps I can use my magic to discover if they survived." Her brow furrowed. "But the fiends have already invaded Griffin . . . so it may be too late."
Trin's eyes brightened, but the set of his jaw betrayed his tension. The expression was uncharacteristic for his normally light attitude, and it surprised Taryn. He hadn’t realized how hard it would have been for Trin to see Terros destroyed and not know if his family had been among the dead. Then he considered if it was Murai, and the tightening in his throat told him exactly how Trin would feel.
“We have to reach them first,” Trin said and Taryn echoed his statement.
“We will, Trin,” Siarra replied. “If we hurry we may reach them in time.”
Trin's expression hardened into determination, and he unconsciously flicked the reigns. Taryn couldn’t help but smile and push his steed to catch up. Within moments their entire party had picked up the pace and followed the road as it curved away from the lake and into the trees. Now heading west of north, they tightened the ranks to follow the narrower road. On either side the trees grew thick, and their canopies blanketed the road in shade.
Taryn’s first indication that they had found the druids was the sensation of being watched. Scanning the area, it took several minutes to spot what was out of place. When he found the first he continued looking until he found the others.
An eagle, perched on a branch high above, sat too still and its position only gave a good view of the road—not a place to hunt. To their side, a glimpse of the outline of a jungle cat shadowing their path caused him to bite his lip not to smile. Each of the animals watching them would have fooled almost anyone, but not their group. Meeting the eyes of his well-trained companions, he saw none of them were fooled.
When he looked at Jack, he appeared . . . uncomfortable. There was no doubt that he'd spotted the animals, but for some reason their appearance caused him to fidget. Catching Taryn's raised eyebrow, his expression smoothed into an inscrutable mask. It was the first time Taryn had ever seen the thief appear nervous, and for some reason it made Taryn think it wasn't about thieving.
Siarra halted her horse and raised her arm, which she’d wrapped in a piece of leather. A high whistle escaped her lips and a hawk dropped off its branch. Gliding towards them, it swept its wings out and landed on Siarra’s outstretched arm. She crooned and said, “Why don’t you tell your Joré that we are friends and would like to enter your village?”
In a very non-birdlike manner, the hawk nodded before taking off. Within moments a man strolled into view. His clothes were dark green and brown, and he wore a cloak covered in blotches of forest colors. His face was remarkably angular, reminding Taryn that druids took on characteristics of their companions.
Without getting too close, the man demanded, “Who are you, and how did you speak to Araz?”
Siarra inclined her head in a short bow. “I am Siarra, the Oracle.” She then introduced each of them before turning back to the scout. “We need to speak to the Guidrian.”
The man hesitated but most of his concern had vanished. “My name is Agrial. Come with me, but leave your horses. They will be tended.”
Taryn dismounted and gathered his belongings. Falling into step behind Siarra the group disappeared into the forest following the druid scout. Fading light streamed from above and Taryn noticed that the trees had opened up, leaving enough room to walk unimpeded.
“Who is your current Guidrian?” Liri asked.
The man glanced back wi
th an amused expression at her knowledge. “His name is Newhawk. Haven’t you heard of him?”
Liri shook her head. “I have been training with the elves for twenty years.”
The scout smiled. “Then you wouldn’t know.” Then he turned to the others in their group, “Do you know about the joining process?” His eyes lingered on Jack, and his eyebrows twitched.
When each of them nodded he said, “Sixteen years ago a young lad went into the forest to summon his Joré. He was intelligent and strong, and speculation abounded as to what animal he would bond with. A tiger, some said, a lion others argued. It was even suggested a tigron would become his Joré. The speculation became more intense when he didn’t come back. He was gone so long that the clans began to worry that he’d been killed. Then he returned—not on land . . . but from the sky.”
Agrial appeared to enjoy their astonished expressions and waited for a moment until Trin asked, his voice incredulous, “A dragon?”
“Better . . .” he replied with a glitter in his eye.
“But what would be better than a dragon?” Liri asked in puzzlement.
Agrial opened his mouth to answer but Jack and Mae spoke at the same time.
“A phoenix,” they said.
The trace of rancor in Jack's voice caused Agrial's gaze to touch on the thief before commenting. When he did, he spoke to Mae.
“How did you guess?” he asked Mae, his eyebrows pulling together.
“A phoenix is the only other thing big enough to carry a man,” Mae said, causing Agrial to grin.
“Smart thinking elf,” he said. “As you might know, a phoenix is just as large as a dragon, and also sentient. Neither of these great creatures, incidentally, have ever been joined to a human. I don’t believe anyone thought it was possible.”
Beside him Siarra murmured so quietly that only Taryn heard, “Not the first time Agrial, but the dragon joining was too long ago for you to know.”
Taryn was about to ask her about it, but Agrial was still speaking and he didn’t want to miss the rest of the story.
“When Newhawk landed in Keilera on the back of a flaming phoenix, most of us just about wet our trousers, but there was no danger. The phoenix had answered his call and became his Joré.”
Taryn cut in to ask a question that had been bothering him, “But why would a sentient being join with a druid? Doesn’t the bonding last for life?”
Agrial nodded soberly, “And phoenixes have far longer life spans than humans. It remains a mystery why Reiquen joined with Newhawk. Maybe he knows, but if he does he has not said.”
“How did he become the Guidrian?” Siarra asked. “Surely there are older or wiser druids.”
Agrial bobbed his head, “Perhaps, but he is unparalleled as a leader.” He smirked. “See for yourself.”
With that he brushed aside some branches and stepped into a large valley. Siarra, Liri, and Mae all gasped at the sight before them, and Taryn took their response to mean things had changed. From their description he’d expected a small village, but the sight before him could only be called a city.
Most of the vegetation had been cleared except for towering trees that gave shade with their massive branches. Underneath their protective canopy, huts and small cottages had been constructed in tight, organized rows. The entire settlement looked to be in the shape of a star, with a small fort at each point, allowing for excellent defensive capabilities. All paths in between the living quarters led to the center of the star, where several large log cabins could be seen—but not all the structures were on the ground.
Between the trees, rope bridges spanned the distance to create an immense interconnecting network of skyways. Tree houses, small and large, dotted the trunks and branches at various heights.
“It has changed so much,” Liri breathed.
Agrial's grin widened. “Most of it has happened in the last fifteen years, under Newhawk’s guidance.”
—A high piercing cry echoed through the valley. At the same time threatening and challenging, the sound inspired awe and fear in equal measure. Looking for the source Taryn saw an immense red and orange bird drop out of the canopy near the center of the settlement and bank through the trees towards them.
As it back winged to land, it sent warm air billowing past them. Over forty feet tall, the Phoenix shimmered in red, orange, and gold. In most appearances it looked like a falcon, with a sharp beak and deep intelligent eyes that peered at each of them. Never taking its gaze from their group, it settled low and allowed a man to dismount. As Newhawk left its side, the phoenix ruffled its feathers, causing small tongues of flame to streak down its back and sparks to cascade off its wings.
The Guidrian of the druids stopped a few feet from them and greeted them with a smile. “Welcome, Oracle and friends, to Keilera. My name is Newhawk, Guidrian of the druids.”
As Siarra responded, Taryn studied the man. Tall and broad shouldered, he appeared fit and strong. His black hair had streaks of red, and hung long and free to his shoulders. Intense blue eyes looked out from a square, handsome face and measured each of them in turn. Rather than forest colors, he wore all black except for a light orange cloak that looked to be made from phoenix feathers. A wicked longbow hung on his back and was the sole weapon in sight, but Taryn guessed he carried a hidden blade.
Then the man laughed and Taryn realized why he had become the Guidrian. Newhawk exuded confidence and charisma. Glancing around, Taryn saw every druid in view looking to their leader with subtle adoration.
Newhawk blinked and seemed to notice the audience. With a sweep of his hand he invited Siarra and the others to his home. His change in demeanor bore a trait that Taryn rarely saw in leaders adored by their people . . . humility.
Taryn shook his head as he turned to follow Liri into the city. In another example of his leadership, Newhawk chose to walk with them, rather than riding his Joré. Leading them through the winding streets and paths of Keilera, he spoke of the city with pride in his voice. When he reached the tallest tree at the center, he stepped onto a staircase spiraling around its massive trunk.
As they ascended towards the sprawling tree house above, Taryn felt apprehensive about what Newhawk would do when Siarra told him of the gathering. Entering a cozy sitting room and taking the offered seat, Taryn avoided eye contact, afraid he would betray his concern. The conversation soon turned from light topics to Draeken, and he hoped the Guidrian would accept the truth.
There was no doubt that the man was a leader of tremendous caliber, but how would he react to their warning? Would he gather at Azertorn? He was certainly capable of bringing his people, but would he? If he was convinced, what role was he destined to play in the battle? Whatever his purpose, Taryn sensed it would be pivotal—if he could be persuaded to come.
He spared a glance at Siarra's expression as she detailed what was coming, and caught an odd glint in the way she looked at the druid leader. It was a look that he had seen before . . . when she had told Taryn of his own destiny. The Oracle knew what Newhawk was meant to do.
But would he do it?
Chapter 5: The Strategist
Braon awoke long before dawn but he didn’t get out of bed. Staring at the ceiling he considered the heavy task assigned to him. The Oracle had said he must be the high commander of all the races when Draeken’s army came, an impossible task for anyone—especially a fifteen-year-old boy.
Releasing a deep sigh he stood and dressed, but hesitated as he approached his door. Where to begin? His question was answered as soon as he opened the door. An elven guard stood ready and the moment he stepped into the hall addressed him.
“General Deiran has requested your presence.” The elf bowed and indicated for him to follow, but his tone didn't match the politeness of his words.
Braon nodded and followed the guard out of the House of Runya and into the pre-dawn streets of Azertorn. It seemed like ages since they had entered the city, and Braon had to remind himself that they had arrived only yesterday t
o inform the high council of the impending battle—the meeting in which the Oracle and the Queen had placed the defenses in his charge.
Looking over the city he wished he understood more of what he was supposed to do. With the Oracle gone, he felt less than confident where to begin. He was glad that she had stopped by his room before their departure, and her foresight that she needed to leave, but he couldn’t deny the yearning for someone to stay and guide him.
Then he remembered the letter the Oracle had slipped him. She’d said to read it in the morning. Reaching into his pocket he withdrew the folded piece of parchment and read the short note.
Braon,
I know the next few weeks are going to be difficult for you, and I am sorry I cannot stay to aid you. Trust me when I tell you that this is what you can, and will, do on your own. I do have two pieces of advice that I feel you must hear. The first is to trust your instincts. When I first met you, I saw something in you I have never seen before, a unique type of mind magic. It is what allows you to sense what others will do—and what makes you a good strategist and leader. Always trust your instincts.
The second piece of advice is to speak with authority. You must do this immediately and consistently. Your mind is strong, and it is vital that you expect others to follow you. You must be their leader, at every moment, of every day. There can be no doubt in anyone's mind. Always speak with authority, even if you don’t know what you should do.
Know that each one of us believes in you. Good luck my friend.
Siarra
Braon reread the note before pocketing it to consider its words. He was grateful for the advice, and had to admit that they were exactly what he needed to hear. Chuckling, he realized that the Oracle had known when she wrote the note, and it had done what was intended. His confidence was bolstered and he knew what he must do.