by Ben Hale
The Swordsman reluctantly took a seat beside him. "I'm here. Now, what's this all about?"
"What do you see?" Hawk replied. He motioned to the school across the street. One child stood out over the others.
"A girl playing on a swing set. Looks like she doesn't have any friends."
"Why do you think that is?"
The Swordsman shrugged. Then he blinked and leaned in. Upon closer inspection he noticed an aura of strength about her, unseen and yet abundantly obvious. He wasn't the only one to sense it. Like prey in the presence of a supreme predator, the other students subconsciously moved to avoid her.
"She's a mage?"
Hawk motioned to her. "What type?"
The Swordsman blinked into his magesight. Every child in the park manifested as a muted gray. He had no way of knowing if they had magic or not, he could only see if someone had body magic like him. Distinct from the others, the girl lit up with brown.
"Her parents didn't bind her magic?" he turned to Hawk.
"That is bound."
The Swordsman didn't understand. "That would make her one of the most powerful body mages ever."
"It's not her only ability . . ."
The Swordsman blinked in realization, and his head snapped back to look at her. "An oracle," the Swordsman breathed.
Hawk gave a solemn nod. "The first in six thousand years. Every type of magic will be within her ability."
The Swordsman turned to him. "Why tell me all this?"
"I've watched you for a while, Swordsman." Hawk said. "You are not like the other assassins. As talented as you are in your profession, you despise people like the Harbingers. Because of that I have decided to trust you. Four people now know of her existence. Not even her adoptive parents have knowledge of the truth." He released a breath. "I want you to help me protect her."
"I'm an assassin," he replied, "not a babysitter."
"You'll get a chance to kill Harbingers."
A grim smile spread on the Swordsman's features. "You know I can't refuse that."
"I know," Hawk replied.
The Swordsman fell silent and turned back to the school. After a while, he said, "They say she will unite the mage and auren worlds. Our government will never allow that."
"They may not have a choice."
The Swordsman shot him a look. "How?"
"The anniversary of the Second Draeken War approaches."
"You can't possibly believe the prophecy," the Swordsman said.
Hawk's gaze did not waver as he quoted, "In an age of suspicion and corruption the fiends will be released once more. Marking the end of the oracle line a young woman will be born. At her touch magic will be unbound, and known again as truth. She is the only one who can ultimately defeat the darkness . . . and unify the world. She will be The Last Oracle."
The Swordsman felt a chill, and he slowly nodded. The bell rang, and the young girl jumped off the swing to join her classmates. In seconds the playground emptied. The Swordsman watched her go. Unbidden, his thoughts turned to Aaron's wife. The image of her talking to her husband had seared into his memory.
"Can you handle the Harbingers if they come for her?" Hawk finally asked.
The Swordsman met his gaze. Hawk had saved his life and he was loath to leave that debt unpaid. If that wasn't sufficient his hatred of the Harbingers probably would have—and yet neither drove his answer. A twinge of foreboding rang within him, resonating like a dissonant chord. Ultimately he gave a sharp nod.
"It's what I do."
Excerpt from The Last Oracle
For months Tess's dream had been the same, and it always began with her standing in a field of grass. The green strands swayed in the breeze, rippling to the horizon in every direction. Several figures stood around and behind her, their faces bland and featureless. Like her, they were dressed in jeans and t-shirts. Each of them stood as if waiting for someone to arrive.
Materializing in the wind, Sara from Tess's biology class strode toward them. The girl's brown hair hung free of restraint, moving in sync with the grass at her feet as she approached, forceful and determined. The behavior was at odds with what Tess knew about her, but she expected that. The person might vary from night to night, but the dialogue and attitude did not. Once again, Tess had the sense that the person was a stand-in for someone else.
At school Sara was shy and quiet. Here she was brusque and to the point. “Welcome to flight school," Sara said. "Safety is our primary concern, so the instant you don’t do as instructed, you will be excused. You will have to wait until next term to repeat the course.”
Her unflinching gaze carried the threat well, and Tess had no doubt that many had regretted their choices in the class.
Sara then went on to describe how to manipulate gravity, warping it to form a bubble around you . . . until your body began to lift off the ground. If any of them got that far she would help them learn to curve gravity further. More than once Sara warned the class of the inherent dangers of flying—and that injuries were common. She finished by informing them that one in ten would pass her course.
No one around Tess blinked, and she wondered if they were too excited to care.
Following the teacher's cue, Tess looked at her feet, concentrating on the energy that bound them to the ground. She felt oddly confident as the lines of energy became visible. The teacher’s instructions lingered in her mind, and she willed gravity to bend.
At first it resisted, holding its shape as if fashioned of steel. She focused harder, and felt a sense of triumph as the lines stretched sideways. The force holding her down weakened, causing her heart to stutter in her chest. Her power faltered at the wave of nervousness, but she pushed it aside. Drawing a deep breath, she pressed on.
She fought to ignore the thrill of anticipation as more bands moved away from her body . . . until the pressure on her feet faded. The last thread of gravity moved—ever so slowly—until it joined the crystal shape that had formed around her . . .
She rose into the air.
The panic surprised her—but couldn't hold. Flying was the apex of freedom, the pinnacle of independence. She left worry and fear behind, shed like a heavy cloak as her body climbed skyward. Joy and hope took their place, surging forth with unprecedented might, inspiring an unquenchable desire to go higher.
The earth had relinquished its grasp on her body, bending to her willpower. She closed her eyes, basking as the clouds touched her heart and soul. Without a thought, she swept her hands wide and turned her face to the heavens, reveling in her newfound power. On a whim she banked to the side, and felt the wind's embrace. Twisting and soaring, she flew until she got tired and began to descend.
The dream always ended in regret.
Until she awoke in the air . . .
The Chronicles of Lumineia
By Ben Hale
—The White Mage Saga—
Assassin's Blade (Short story prequel)
The Last Oracle
The Sword of Elseerian
Descent Unto Dark
Impact of the Fallen
The Forge of Light
—The Second Draeken War—
Elseerian
The Gathering
Seven Days
The List Unseen
—The Warsworn—
The Flesh of War
The Age of War
The Heart of War (Dec 2015)
Author Bio
Originally from Utah, Ben has grown up with a passion for learning almost everything. Driven particularly to reading caused him to be caught reading by flashlight under the covers at an early age. While still young, he practiced various sports, became an Eagle Scout, and taught himself to play the piano. This thirst for knowledge gained him excellent grades and helped him graduate college with honors, as well as become fluent in three languages after doing volunteer work in Brazil. After school, he started and ran several successful businesses that gave him time to work on his numerous writing projects. His greatest s
upport and inspiration comes from his wonderful wife and five beautiful children. Currently he resides in Florida while working on his latest writing and business endeavors.
To contact the author, discover more about Lumineia, or find out about the upcoming sequels, check out his website at Lumineia.com. You can also follow the author on twitter @ BenHale8 or Facebook.