The Chronicles of Lumineia: Book 02 - The Gathering

by Ben Hale

  “Father,” Anders said, his voice quick with urgency. “We have a messenger from the elves.”

  The king, dressed in the cloak of his station, looked much like his son, except that his hair and beard had gone white and his nose had a crook in it. Catching sight of the limp form in the guards arms, he rose to his feet and rushed around the desk. “Place him on the chair, and fetch water.”As the guards left, the king knelt by the semiconscious elf. “You may speak,” the king said.

  The elf struggled to reach into his pack and withdrew a small round parcel. “Only works two or three times,” he managed to say. “You must touch it first, your majesty.”

  His message delivered, the elf succumbed to fatigue and slumped into the chair. No one moved except the king, who rose slowly to his feet and unfastened his cloak. He covered the elf with the thick garment and withdrew to his desk. He hesitated, and then unwrapped the package to find a glass orb pulsing with energy. A note, stamped with the crest of the elves, lay tied with another sealed letter beside the shimmering ball. Lifting the note he read aloud.

  “King Drayson, touch the orb and look into its depths, and then read the letter.” He stopped, his eyes going wide. “It’s signed by the Oracle!”

  Anders took a step forward. “This appears to be important, father. Should I summon Graden?”

  The door slammed open and Anders younger brother burst into the room. Shorter than Anders, he looked just like him, with the same dark hair and boyish face, but he lacked the facial hair. Not as good a soldier as his brother, he was still a better leader—and they constantly teased each other about it.

  “I heard there was an important message from the elves?” he said, pausing to catch his breath. “Did I miss it?” Then he caught sight of the elf in the chair and asked, “What was it?”

  The king shook his head and pointed at the orb on his desk. “It’s from the Oracle, and I’m supposed to touch it.”

  “Then it should be fine," Prince Graden said, stepping closer to peer at the glass. "She has proven her loyalty, as her mother did before her.”

  Anders readily agreed and the king nodded before taking a deep breath and reaching for the enchanted orb. Holding it like it might burn him, he gazed into it . . . and gasped. The brothers rushed to their fathers' side but froze as the king’s face drained of all color.

  “What is happening?!” Graden demanded.

  “I don’t know!” Anders responded, his fists clenching at his sides.

  The kings breathing became ragged, and tears glistened in his eyes . . . until suddenly he snapped back and dropped the orb. Leaping to his feet, he wrapped his arms around his son's necks, emotion wetting his cheeks.

  Unsure of what to do, Gaze shifted his feet as the brothers hugged their father and demanded to know what had happened. Regaining his composure, the king took a step back. Swallowing hard he said, “I watched you be torn to pieces before my eyes.”

  Anders looked at his father in surprise. “You saw us die? Is that all?”

  The king shook his head, his expression dark and foreboding. “Some sort of evil army swept into our kingdom, destroying everything. You rode out with our men to try to stop it, but were knocked aside like leaves in the wind.”

  Graden shook his head in confusion. “Is it some sort of prophecy?”

  For the first time Gaze stepped forward, drawing all eyes to him. “It must be a combination of different magics, and is without question the work of the Oracle.”

  The king furrowed his brow and sank into a high-backed chair. “I agree Gaze, but I still don’t understand. What does this message mean?”

  Anders stabbed a finger at the letter on the table. “Perhaps that has the answer?”

  The king blinked and reached for the envelope. Breaking the seal he unfolded the pages and read it to himself. Gaze swallowed his impatience and counted the seconds until the king put the paper down and slumped back.

  Anders snatched the scarp of parchment from the desk and Graden moved to stand next to him. Together they read the note, their expressions changing to disbelief.

  “Evacuate?!” Graden exclaimed. “This is madness!”

  At that moment the door opened and two guards entered with water for the messenger. Flashing a warning look at his sons, the king rose to his feet and moved to the elf's side. “Take the elf to a secure room and have him rest." He frowned and added, "And post sentries.”

  Once the guards were gone Gaze asked, “May I read it?”

  Anders glanced at his father, who nodded wearily and said, “You know we can trust him.”

  Gaze inclined his head in gratitude and moved forward to take the note. In smooth, flowing script it read:

  My dear King,

  It is supremely vital that you believe this message. We are fortunate that the Oracle has created the orb of prophecy for you to see for yourself what is coming. In recent months we have all experienced a plague of terror that brought many of us to the brink of war. This unholy fear was inspired by an assassin of Draeken, the demigod of chaos. Its purpose was simple; divide our races so we would be easier to destroy. We have the Oracle and a few brave souls to thank for the death of this assassin, and the return of our hope.

  In its wake we have come to the understanding that Draeken has gathered an army of billions which will sweep the land, slaying all it encounters. You have seen a fraction of this fiend invasion in the prophecy orb, and from one who has also received the vision, you have my sympathy.

  The Oracle has informed us that we have a slim hope of survival. We are to gather the races to Azertorn and the Giant’s Shelf, where we will defend our existence. We will not win, for they are too many, but it has been foreseen that if we gather, we might delay our extinction long enough for Draeken to be destroyed. His ultimate demise will end his invasion, and will withdraw his army. A force has already been sent to perform this task.

  Our prayers and lives ride with them, and our hope reaches out to you. If you wish your people to live, you must evacuate and join us to defend Lumineia. Within weeks they will invade your country from the east, and you will not be able to stop them.

  Evacuate, and some of you may live. Stay, and all of you will perish. At best you have five weeks until they begin to slay your people.

  With all our hope,

  Ayame Ser’Tármaril,

  Queen of the elves

  Gaze felt his knees go weak and he sought a chair before he embarrassed himself. An invasion? Evacuate? Billions?! The thoughts echoed around his mind as he struggled to grasp the enormity of the information.

  Graden broke the stillness, “Do you think we should believe it?”

  The king grunted and scratched his beard. “I saw it, and . . . I think it's true.”

  Anders frowned and stood, beginning to pace. “Do you have any idea what this will take? How are we supposed to evacuate hundreds of thousands on the claim of a letter?”

  The king shook his head, his voice haunted, “I saw them die, Anders, in the most terrible way imaginable. I cannot allow that to happen while I sit on the throne.”

  Graden rose to his feet, his jaw setting into a line that Gaze knew well. “Are we doing it? Evacuating our people?”

  The King sat and stared off into space long enough for Gaze to realize he was holding his breath before he nodded.

  “Call the general and order the evacuation,” the king said to Graden. “If we are going to do this, we had better do it right. Dispatch runners to the eastern towns and villages first, and then send the warning to the rest. If they are west of us, have them gather at the Blue River or Tallendale, if they are east, have them gather here, and they will depart together. Make sure they are told to bring food and water for several weeks, but don’t let them delay. I want every eastern village empty within a week.”

  Graden nodded, but didn’t move. After a moment Anders asked, “What would you like me to do?”

  The king shook his head. “We don’t have enough time to get everyone ou
t. Anders and I will ride with five hundred of our fastest cavalry. We will do our best to delay the invasion.”

  Shocked, Gaze exclaimed, “Five hundred against an army that size?! You will be less than an ant to them—”

  The king threw him a look and he fell silent. “I know, Gaze, but if we can burn forests or destroy bridges it might give our people the time they need. A single hour might mean hundreds or even thousands of lives." He flashed him an odd look. "And you had better join us.”

  Gaze’s jaw dropped open at the order to include him, and Anders took a step forward to protest, but the king smiled, “We may need your magic—” He ignored the gasp of surprise from all three of them and continued, “Yes, I know about it, so don’t act so surprised. We will need all the firepower we can muster.”

  Anders recovered and bowed. Whirling, he swept from the room, grabbing Gaze on the way out. Gaze was about to speak but Anders held up a finger, waiting. After a moment Graden stepped out of the room. Anders caught him and hugged his younger brother. “Be safe, brother,” he whispered.

  Gaze looked away, uncomfortable by the personal moment. Then Graden caught Gaze’s arm, pulling him into the embrace. “You too, Gaze,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Be safe, and protect my brother as if he were your own.”

  Gaze gave his word and the three separated. Graden gave them a determined nod and departed, his heels clicking on the stone as he strode away. Gaze and Anders watched him disappear down the corridor and Anders turned towards Gaze with an explosive sigh.

  “I guess we won’t find out who's the better spearman,” he said, and Gaze shook his head in response. “Why don’t you go pack while I inform the cavalry?”

  “I will see you in the morning,” Gaze said, and left Anders standing in the hall outside his father’s study. Moving through the castle, he felt an odd weight settle onto his shoulders and he found himself moving faster to escape it. Bursting into the night air, he took several deep, settling breaths.

  How is this possible? he thought as he swallowed and began walking towards the main gates. Struggling to cope with what threatened his homeland, he came to a halt next to the practicing range. Can anyone survive such a thing? he wondered, but he was afraid of the answer. Like the wind had shifted and he could sense the coming storm, he knew the truth.

  In the deepest part of his heart, a sinister voice whispered no.

  Part II

  Three weeks and four days until Draeken's army reaches Azertorn

  Chapter 13: A Light in the Dark

  Two weeks had passed since Gaze had watched the king look into the prophetic orb, and he had passed the point of exhaustion days ago. Up before dawn and riding until dusk, the king, Prince Anders, and the veteran soldiers of the fifty-second cavalry had pushed themselves to arrive at the border between Talinor and Griffin, warning every village they passed to evacuate. Marked by a range of squat bare hills, the border sat a few miles west of the dark forest of Orláknia.

  Picking up the pace, they followed the road as it left a large strip of forest and began to climb into the foothills. As it leveled out, they came to a low pass that opened into the eastern kingdom. The king came to a stop at the highest point in the road and squinted downhill, but the last glimmer of light had faded and they could barely see in the cloudy night.

  “We’ll camp here for the night,” the king said, weariness robbing his voice of strength.

  Easing himself out of the saddle, Gaze followed Anders as the prince led his horse to a flat boulder on the side of the road. With orders to forego a fire, he chewed on dried meat as he rolled out a blanket and lay down. The prince was not far behind him. Sighing in relief, Anders relaxed his body on his own bedroll.

  A chill blew through the camp, causing the men to shiver and draw their blankets tighter, but Gaze and Anders were protected by the rock.

  “You always did know how to pick a campsite,” Gaze said, and he heard a weak chuckle.

  “And you always knew how to start a fire,” Anders replied with a sly grin.

  Gaze laughed and rolled over. Glad to finally rest, he was unable to shake the sense of foreboding enough to sleep. They had seen no sign of anyone from the eastern kingdom for days. No one had been fleeing and there had been no enemies to prove the Oracle’s words. But the lack of movement had been more troubling than comforting. Late fall always brought travelers from Griffin, tradesmen and caravans arriving before winter snows blanketed the eastern mountains.

  No travelers could mean two things. Either they were being prevented from leaving . . . or there was no one to leave. The latter thought gave disturbing support to the Oracle’s description, and kept him awake for longer than he would have liked . . .

  —Someone grabbed Gaze’s arm and shook him awake. Lurching to his knees, he scrambled for his knife but Prince Anders restrained him. His heart hammering, he rubbed his eyes and tried to orient himself. A glance at the horizon showed the pre-dawn glow was just a glimmer above the eastern peaks.

  “What’s going on?” Gaze asked in a low voice.

  “A sentry spotted movement in front of us,” Anders whispered.

  Gaze grabbed his sword belt and stood up. “What kind of movement?”

  “He said the hill rippled.”

  Rippled? Gaze thought, and hurried to follow the prince through the already awake and battle ready men to the front of their camp.

  As soon as he arrived he squinted into the darkness, trying to see anything in the shadowed land. After several moments of searching he spotted what looked like a ripple in water cascade across the darkened terrain. About to ask if anyone else had seen it, he was stopped by the sudden appearance of the king. Covered in a dark riding cloak and dressed for battle, the white-haired king nudged Gaze.

  “Can you make a lightning bolt strike the ground about a mile out from us?” the king asked in a whisper. “I’d like to see what is going on without giving away our position.”

  Gaze hesitated and felt a flash of irritation at the king. Early in their journey, he’d told the entire command of Gaze's magic, saying, “It’s important they know.” Few men had been willing to ride beside him after that. Shaking his head, he realized that at this point it probably didn’t matter, so he nodded and reached his senses skyward. Searching among the clouds, he found the energy he needed. Mentally he condensed it until it contrasted with the energy in the ground, building it to a breaking point . . .

  Bolts of lightning arced down and blasted into the ground, launching debris into the air. For a split second, the world flashed into view as the strobe of light pierced the darkness—and Gaze felt his heart stutter to a stop.

  Unmasked by the light, an unending horde of dark creatures rippled into view. While some were twice as tall as a man and appeared to be armored, others were man-sized. Still others resembled dogs or giant scorpions—and their vastness left not a single patch of ground in sight. The lightning itself had even struck the army, and the flying debris had been the scorched bodies of fiends.

  But the flash of light had been enough to reveal their position, and the nearest were only a few hundred yards away. As the strobe of light faded from view, a sea of evil rising to their feet was the last thing in sight. Then black darkness fell, bringing blindness—and fear.

  The tremendous roar sounded like a thunderclap, shattering the calm and unleashing the fiends' fury. Howls rent the dark, rising in intensity as they betrayed an unearthly hunger, merging with the snarls of beasts intent on their prey. Then the earth began to rattle underfoot, vibrating bones and teeth as it increased in strength . . .

  "Get to the horses!" the king bellowed.

  Cutting through the din, the order released the men from their terror, launching them into a panic. Galvanized into action, they scattered to their steeds and rushed to mount, stumbling in their haste.

  Gaze raced for his horse, struggling to hear the orders over his beating heart. As he leapt into the saddle, Prince Anders snatched his leg.


  “Gaze!” he yelled, “bring down more bolts as we retreat so we can see them coming!”

  Gaze fought his panic with action, and wheeled his horse east. Looking back, he threw his mind skyward until he felt the fingers of energy strike the ground in response. Terror filled his soul as the flash of light revealed the chaos around him, and he yanked on the reins to escape from imminent death. Men raced to mount, horses bucked in fear, and dark bodies burst into the camp. Within moments the entire company was galloping as fast as their animals could carry them.

  Darkness returned as the screams of those too slow crushed his ears.

  Reaching upward for more energy, Gaze sent it into an arc of lightning across the sky. Spinning to look backward, he saw several dog-like creatures shimmer red as they growled and surged after them. Sipers, he thought, recalling the description from the elven messenger. Almost as big as his horse, (horse or lion?) the demon dogs overtook the last of the stragglers. In moments, more cries of agony struck as the light faded again.

  —A roar of rage bellowed nearby and Gaze called down a bolt to see who it was, this time arcing it into the pack of dogs. Glancing at the result, he saw the bolt blast into them, tossing them into the air, broken and lifeless. Another call from the right and he looked to see the king rising in his saddle. His white hair billowing behind him, he raised the banner of the fifty-second cavalry.

  “Ride through the forest—and burn it behind you!” he yelled, and the cavalry surged forward.