The Chronicles of Lumineia: Book 01 - Elseerian

by Ben Hale

  Jack Myst spoke up. "Why don't we just kill the bugger?"

  Siarra growled and looked at him. "What are you even doing here? You saved me. I said thank you. Now you are free to go. Why would you choose to die with us?"

  "I'm just here for the adventure." He grinned and spread his arms out wide. "And something tells me this group will have plenty."

  The Oracle stared him down until his grin started to fade. When she spoke, her voice was dangerously soft. "Do you feel the fear?"

  The thief's arms slowly dropped to his sides and the remainder of his smile evaporated. "Of course I feel it. It's everywhere."

  She nodded at him. "The source of that fear is what is hunting us."

  "What?" Taryn blinked, swiveling to stare at her.

  She looked at him. "This assassin spawns this unholy fear, and he has been spreading terror for a while. It has taken time, but by now it has seeped into every heart of every person throughout the five kingdoms, although it is worst in the east, where it began."

  "Why?" Denithir asked, his voice crackling with desperation. "Who is he and where does he come from?"

  "I don't know." Her head dropped slightly as she answered. Taryn could sense her frustration that she didn’t know the answer. "I can just feel evil and fear growing in the eastern kingdom. I don't know its nature or source. The only other thing I can tell you is that this is only the beginning. He has been sent to weaken resistance for whoever, or whatever, sent him—"

  "Wait." Liri raised a hand. "There is more than just him?"

  Siarra nodded. "Something is gathering an incredibly powerful force. Whoever is doing it sent him to kill us, and others, before we could fight back. Not only does he kill strong leaders, he also spreads terror to separate and blind people."

  "So even if we beat Death, we still have to contend with whoever sent him—which is probably worse," Denithir stated, struggling to keep the mounting fear out of his voice.

  Siarra looked away and her voice became as cold as ice. "I believe far worse than we can imagine."

  Deafening silence echoed around them for several moments until Denithir growled and visibly shook himself. "Enough. We are not facing who sent him; we are facing him. Let's focus on that and hopefully we will learn more after Siarra comes of age."

  "—And that won't happen until after he kills us . . . correct?" Jack said acidly.

  Denithir glowered at him. "You may leave at any moment." He made it sound like a command, but the thief ignored him.

  "I think I will stick around." He seemed about to say more but his eyes flicked to Siarra and he closed his mouth with a click.

  Liri nudged Taryn, and he understood her thoughts with a glance at her expression. She knew there was something else the thief wasn't saying, and that something had pushed him to risk his life. Before he could wonder what it was, the Oracle cut in.

  "We don't have time for this," she exclaimed. "We cannot outrun him, we will have to fight. I suggest we choose our battleground rather than push ourselves throughout the night again and then face him weary and unprepared."

  Denithir nodded in agreement, glancing at the setting sun. "We have an hour then. Let's find somewhere to make our stand."

  Without waiting for a response, he stepped out of their small camp and strode off to the west. Taryn and the others were quick to fall into line behind him. For several minutes no one spoke while they trudged along a game trail in the foothills south of the Blue Lake, each of them searching for a defensible location.

  Despite the grim outlook, Taryn felt eager to continue his conversation with Siarra, but the prevailing mood didn’t seem like the right time. Although there might not be a later, he thought darkly. Forcing the discouraging thought aside, he looked south. The ground rose and fell in gentle hills that provided little cover. Trees grew in scattered groves in many locations, but few seemed a suitable spot to fight. North, the ground sloped down to a beach on the Blue Lake. Trees stood tall and thick close to the lake but he didn’t like the idea of having water at his back.

  Darkness continued to deepen and the sun turned a brilliant orange as it began to set, casting long shadows around them. Rather than peaceful, the deepening darkness left an increasing feeling of panic growing within him—and left more and more places for a killer to hide.

  "Perhaps among the trees?" Denithir said, but his voice held no hope and no one responded.

  A few minutes later Taryn began to think the trees along the shore would be their only option as the last streaks of light began to fade, but just as full darkness fell, his keen eyes caught a glimpse of something to the south.

  "There," he said, pointing to indicate the direction.

  "What did you see?" Denithir asked, tense and ready.

  "Just before the light disappeared, I saw a place we might be able to hole up in."

  Siarra cut off the elven captain’s response. "Lead the way, quickly."

  Taryn took the lead and leapt off the trail into the sparse vegetation. Glancing up, he saw clouds moving to cover the moon, blocking out the little light he had to guide him. Slipping through the trees by memory, he hurried to lead them to what he'd seen, hoping it was there. Approaching the steep rise to a small mountain, he rounded some rocks and came to what he'd seen—a small stream. Over centuries it had cut a path through the rock, leaving a thin corridor into a thirty-foot cliff.

  Without stopping, he turned upriver and followed the bank as it wound into the stone crevasse. A small amount of light fell from thirty feet above where the gap opened to the sky, and smooth rock rose up on either side of them, so close you could touch both sides at the same time. Taryn plunged his boots into the cool water as the pathway tightened, but he continued to press forward.

  Someone started to protest behind him, but he heard an elbow striking a gut and then silence returned. A moment later they came to what he'd heard from outside the cut. The sides opened up to reveal a waterfall as tall as a tree cascading into a shallow pool. On one side of the pool the water had washed out a large portion to leave forty feet of dry ground in the shape of a half circle, surrounded by thirty feet of smooth vertical stone. Taryn nodded, satisfied at what he saw—a grotto hidden away from sight that would be perfect to defend.

  As the others came up behind him and stepped out of the water, they each smiled.

  "How did you know this was here?" Liri asked.

  "I didn’t. I saw light flash off the water near the opening and hoped for something, but I didn’t know what would be here. I also heard the waterfall but didn’t see one, so I thought it was worth a shot."

  Denithir looked up. "You think he can get to us from above?"

  Surprisingly Jack was the one to answer. "Most definitely."

  They all looked at him and he shrugged. "If I could do it, I'm sure he could."

  Taryn nodded at him. "If we are sure he will attack then we need a fire, fast. He could be here any minute."

  "I'll go get some wood," Liri suggested bravely, but Taryn cut her off.

  "No, it would take too long and would be too dangerous," he exclaimed.

  Siarra gazed at the rim thirty feet up where some trees were in sight. "If one of you can get up there and get some wood, I can get a fire going."

  Jack smirked and looked at Taryn. "Need a boost?" he offered, stooping down and cupping his hands together at his knee.

  Although Taryn knew he could probably make the jump on his own, he accepted Jack’s offer and took the two steps to him in a rush. Placing his foot in the cupped hands, he leapt upwards, assisted by Jack's effort to launch him skyward. The two of them proved to be more than enough as he sailed ten feet above the rim and had to windmill his arms to keep his balance. Still unstable he managed to land in a crouch and scanned the darkness for a hint of their killer.

  A low chuckle from Jack could be heard from below, but he ignored it and hurried to lop off thick branches with his father's sword. Blue magic glimmered as he sliced through enough wood to make several fire
s and dropped it to the ground below him. Finishing quickly, he hung from an outstretched branch and dropped, rolling to absorb the impact.

  Light flickered around him as Siarra pulled the heat from the surrounding stone and focused it until the wood burst into flame. One by one she lit the piles around her until firelight chased every bit of darkness from their grotto.

  She finished her work and turned to the group. "I will do what I can when he attacks, but I only have a fraction of my ability until tomorrow. You will have to depend on yourselves." She blew her breath out and added fervently, "But pray to whatever god you believe in, for we truly have little chance in this fight."

  "Is that supposed to be encouraging?" Jack demanded.

  "You can still leave whenever you want," the elven captain said fiercely with a hand on his short sword. "With help if necessary!"

  Jack started to respond, but Siarra cut him off. "No! We need him in this, at least for his blade."

  "Did you hear that?" he asked Denithir innocently. "She wants me to stay, and I bet there is more than one reason . . ."

  She glowered at him, muttering something under her breath which only made his grin widen.

  Liri looked at the thief and said in a deadly sweet voice that Taryn knew well, "You don't have to hide your fear with humor; we all know you are scared. But don't worry, we will protect you."

  Apparently her comment hit home because he took a step towards her, anger darkening his face for the first time, but Taryn stepped between them in an instant.

  As he glared at Jack and started to say something, a flicker of movement over the waterfall caught his eye. Turning, he saw the dark figure of Death rising out of the water behind Siarra, droplets cascading off his dark form. Already knowing it was too late, he cried out for her to move, trying to reach her in time. The scythe descended in a blur as she turned around, plunging itself deep—

  —into Denithir's shoulder as he slammed into her, throwing her out of the way.

  His effort saved her life, but cost him his. The elven captain fell with a bellow of anguish, mortally wounded, but knocking the Oracle into the rock wall. A crack echoed through their grotto when her head crashed into the stone and she slumped to the ground, still.

  Taryn leapt towards Death with a cry of rage on his lips, with Jack only a step behind. The assassin met Taryn’s rush in kind, spinning his scythe to block his lightning blows. Remarkably, the thief joined the fight almost as fast as Taryn, a thin curving blade from his back in one hand and a dagger in the other. Four blades sought to strike the assassin down, but the red-veined weapon somehow managed to deflect everything that came its way.

  Despite the assassin’s speed, the sheer force of their charge drove him backward, almost to the water's edge, before he finally stopped their efforts. For several furious moments the three of them battled, the ring of blows echoing in the enclosed grotto and amplifying the sound a hundredfold.

  Suddenly Death spun sideways and whipped the shaft of his scythe out, striking Jack so hard he was knocked backward. Scrambling to stay upright, he tripped over Denithir's body. Death blew past Taryn and followed the thief down with the blade of his weapon. Unable to stop himself, the thief hit the ground hard and immediately tried to roll away, but the deadly scythe was too close.

  The evil weapon plunged so deep into the man's side that it scraped stone underneath and his tunic instantly burst into bright crimson. Jack cried out in agony and writhed on the ground while Death withdrew his weapon to block Taryn's retaliating strike.

  Liri abruptly joined the fight after seeing she was unable to revive Siarra. Her short sword bravely whipped in, but it was far slower than Death's or Taryn's speed.

  "No!" Taryn cried as she attacked.

  Almost lazily Death reached his scythe out to hit her—and at the same time revealing the length of the shaft to Taryn. In that split second Taryn knew two things: that it was an opening that Death had left on purpose, and that if he didn’t take it Liri would be dead.

  He didn’t hesitate.

  With all his strength he brought Mazer down on the shaft, sending a jarring shock through his hands and arms. Blue light flared as it came in contact with the wood, shattering right through the red-veined handle and sending a blast of energy outward. Taryn felt like he'd tried to cut through thick wood with a butter knife, and his arms ached from the blow, but he felt a moment of triumph as he saw the weapon in two pieces in Death's hands.

  Triumph faded to despair as Death used the momentum of the blow to spin the remaining wood around and smash it into Taryn's right hand. Mazer flew from his grasp, landing several feet away, out of reach. Taryn immediately backed up and clenched his mother’s sword with both hands, but he knew the battle was over. Death had used Liri to force him into a move he couldn’t resist. Hope drained from his heart as he slipped the tip of Ianna out to block the incoming strikes.

  As quick as thought, he whipped the katsana back and forth to parry blows from the weapon end of the scythe and the piece of the shaft while Liri struggled to slip past Death to reach Taryn's sword, but the assassin stayed firmly between them. When at last Taryn was able to draw him out enough for her to bolt past him, the assassin spun and threw the shaft piece. With a crack it hit her in the head and she dropped, her hand inches from Mazer's hilt.

  Taryn roared at Death and struck with all his might, driving him back. Ianna may not have been as strong as his father's sword, but Death only had a fraction of his weapon, and Taryn knew how to use the two-handed katsana.

  Death parried Taryn’s sweep and swung the scythe in a whirl meant to take his head. Ducking at the last second, Taryn leapt in, attempting to get inside Death’s guard—but the evil weapon snapped back and forced him away. Trying to throw Death off, he reversed Ianna along his forearm and flicked the tip out at his side. In an instant, the scythe blade crossed to block the blow. As it lowered, Taryn reached to his belt and threw one of his knives at his head.

  Impossibly fast, Death twisted to the side and the knife passed a hairsbreadth from his cowl, clattering off the rock behind him. The burning coals that were his eyes seemed to pulse at the near hit and he charged Taryn. Hard pressed, Taryn didn’t even have time to bring Ianna back to its original hold for several seconds, and was left to block as he retreated. At last he had an opportunity when Death swung the scythe blade towards him, attempting to gut him. Jumping backwards he whipped Ianna back to hold it with both hands.

  He growled and darted forward once more, trying not to think about the quiet forms that littered the grotto.

  Death spun the remaining piece of his weapon with both hands, so fast it blurred in the air, while Taryn struggled to get past his defenses. After a moment the scythe flew out like quicksilver and he was forced to leap away. The instant he moved back, Death glided back as well, and before Taryn could stop him, he picked up the other piece of his weapon. Placing the broken pieces together the red veins pulsed and the wood knit together, whole once more.

  Taryn morphed his mother’s sword to a bow and sent arrow after arrow towards Death, so fast that two arrows were in the air before the first one reached him. The full whirling scythe deflected the arrows into the rock around him, sending each embedding deep into stone. Arrows reached out towards Death as Taryn struggled to keep him at bay, knowing that once they closed again . . . it would be over.

  Pinned, the assassin could only spin his weapon to deflect arrows until Taryn ran out. His red eyes burned, but he seemed patient to wait until Taryn launched his last arrow. Within ten seconds, the last arrow flew from Ianna and sped towards the impenetrable defense—

  —Out of nowhere a dagger plunged into the back of Death's hood, the tip actually poking out where his face would have been. The whirling weapon stopped spinning as Death crumpled to his knees and an unholy screech pierced the night, so loud that Taryn had to cover his ears as it echoed and reechoed around the fire-lit grotto.

  The scythe's veins pulsed violently red until suddenly the sh
aft exploded, throwing everyone backward. As Taryn bounced off the rock and landed on his knees, he watched the red coals inside the hood flicker and slowly go dark, watched as the cloak disintegrated into dust and crumpled before him.

  Relief flooded him and he looked to see who had killed Death. His eyes widened at the sight of Jack Myst on his feet with the dagger still in his hand, looking at the pile of dust and fragments of dead wood that had been a supreme assassin only moments before.

  "I thought you were dead!" Taryn said, shocked that Jack could stand with so much blood wetting his chest.

  The thief shrugged like it was nothing and reached down to his side, pulling back the cloth to reveal that the weapon had penetrated the clothing but had barely grazed his skin.

  "But the blood!" Taryn exclaimed with his mouth open. "I heard you cry out as you died!"

  Jack reached into the hole in his tunic and pulled out a wineskin with a deep gash through it. "My favorite skin," he said sadly. "Pity, I will miss it. I had to put on a show, you know, and wait for the chance to strike."

  Taryn shook his head, utterly flabbergasted. Then he remembered Liri. With a bound he crossed the intervening space and knelt at her side. Touching her throat, he sighed in relief to find a pulse, weak, but there. A glance to the side revealed that Siarra too was still breathing. Then he leapt to Denithir.

  Crouching next to him, he was surprised to see him still alive. Instantly he tore a strip of cloth and began to put pressure on the gaping wound, but a feeble hand reached up to stop him. “Don’t . . . it doesn’t matter.” He coughed and nearly lost consciousness, but somehow had the strength to pull Taryn closer. “Tell . . . Eressa . . . I love her.”

  Recognizing there was nothing he could do, Taryn blinked and spoke through the tightness in his throat. “I will.”

  Denithir relaxed at his words and his eyes began to close. “I am sorry I doubted you Taryn.”

  He watched as the elven captain took his last breath, and then succumbed to his wounds, leaving Taryn to his grief. Looking down on him, his heart rent in two.