The Chronicles of Lumineia: Book 01 - Elseerian

by Ben Hale

  No one in their party clearly understood the Oracle's urgency to get to the city, but something in her firm lips and set face had convinced them that they had no time to waste. Upon disembarking, Siarra had literally sprinted to the stables, and grabbing a horse she'd bolted into the forest of Numenessee. The others had been right behind her, and within minutes of landing, the eight riders were pounding through the elven forest in a blur of green and brown, their horses’ unnatural gait informing Taryn that Siarra’s powers were still at work.

  He glanced behind him and saw Braon holding onto his horse, his face tight with concentration as he rode high in the saddle. Siarra had also insisted the young man be brought with them, but hadn't taken the time to explain why—despite chafing at every delay as the pudgy young man tried to keep up with them.

  Normally the trip between the elven port and the elven capital would have been at least a full day’s ride, but not four hours had passed before they reached the wide bridge between the magnificent waterfalls.

  Siarra crossed the bridge at a full gallop with the seven of them right behind her. She reined in her horse at the last minute and dismounted even as it skidded to a stop. The surprised guards had their weapons out, but she spoke in the ringing tone of authority. "I am Siarra Kelrára Elseerian, the Oracle of the Elves. Send word to the queen immediately with your fastest runner to gather the high council."

  They gaped at her for a moment until she barked, "Now!" and the elves jumped to do as they'd been told.

  Jack dismounted from his steed, which still shook from the run, murmuring just loud enough for Taryn and Siarra to hear him, "Ah, the voice of a powerful woman."

  She bristled, and unseen energy seemed to crackle around her. The thief only chuckled and handed the reins of his winded horse to one of the elves coming out to meet them.

  "Gather the human and carry him with us," she commanded an elf hurrying towards them. It was obvious she partially meant Jack, but the elf went to the unconscious human and gingerly began to unstrap him.

  Taryn dropped to the ground and hurried to gather his things before following them into the city, admitting to himself it felt good to enter the citadel through the front door—and without the fear that had prevailed during the last visit. The presence of compassion and hope in its place felt so strong it brought a smile to his lips.

  Behind him, Taryn heard Braon gasp as he came through the secret doors. The boy began pounding Trin with questions, but Trin shrugged and suggested he ask Taryn. The young man huffed to catch up to Taryn and redirected his flow of queries in his direction. Surprised by Braon’s immediate grasp of the impressive strategic layout and defensive capabilities of the lower barracks, Taryn answered him as well as he could. But when Liri joined in the conversation, he let her take over. She certainly knew more about the fortress than he did.

  As they were led through the lower levels of Azertorn, he could tell Trin in particular wanted to know more about the city, but he didn’t get a chance to ask many questions with the group hurrying to follow Siarra. Surprisingly, Jack didn’t seem at all curious about Azertorn . . . perhaps he'd already been here? Taryn suppressed a laugh as he realized the better question was, how many times had Jack been in Azertorn, and how much had he stolen? For a brief moment Taryn remembered the queen of the elves telling them about a thief they couldn’t catch.

  The next surprise came when Siarra led them, not straight to the palace, but rather to The Drunken Elf. Without hesitation, she walked right through the doors and up to the bar where Aléthya stood lazily wiping a glass. At this time of day there were only a couple of soldiers in the tavern, drinking their day away.

  "I need your help," the Oracle exclaimed to Aléthya.

  Aléthya eyed her with an amused expression, her brown hair shimmering in the sunlight that streamed through the open windows. "You're the Oracle," she stated, not even bothering to stop cleaning glasses. "I knew your mother, you know."

  Taryn was suddenly aware that the Oracle who had helped Aléthya had been his mother as well, so he barely heard his sister’s response.

  "Yes, and I need you to heal someone." Siarra's voice softened. "It is of the utmost importance."

  “Couldn’t you do it yourself?” Aléthya’s question held no rancor.

  Siarra grimaced and admitted. “Healing magic has always been a weakness of mine. His wounds are beyond my ability.”

  For some reason Taryn couldn’t explain, he felt like the fate of the world rested on Aléthya's response, and he found himself holding his breath for the answer. Knowing how she felt about healing people, he didn’t have much hope, but after several agonizing seconds where the two locked eyes, the healer shrugged and put down the glass.

  "I am at your service, Oracle." Aléthya inclined her head in a demonstration of the utmost respect and came out from behind the counter. "Who is it?"

  Siarra waved for the human to be brought forward and laid on a table. "I don't know who he is. I just know we need answers, and he is the only one that has them."

  The man looked wretched, his face gray and drawn, his leg streaked with dark black, and when Taryn helped lay him on the table he could feel the cold, clammy skin. Death's door is already open for this poor soul, he thought.

  Aléthya drew in a breath and leaned over him, murmuring so quietly to herself that even Taryn's sharp ears had a hard time hearing.

  "Poison . . . that's for sure . . . what kind? Something dark . . . a magical poison? . . . it must be. . . wounded in several places, but the leg . . . hmm . . . the source was here . . . something struck him here . . . something deadly . . ." She trailed off and stood straight. Without looking at anyone, she sighed to herself, "This is going to hurt." Then she turned to Taryn and Liri. "Hold me up so I don’t fall—and don’t let go no matter what happens."

  Without waiting for an answer, Aléthya took another deep breath and placed both hands on the leg. White light immediately shimmered through her hands and into the man's leg. Several seconds passed before anything happened, but then the gray lines reluctantly began to recede. At the same moment, the healer cried out in agony and her right leg buckled.

  Taryn and Liri caught her in an instant, but it only got worse. The gray lines grew lighter and lighter as they disappeared, only to reappear on Aléthya's body, darker and longer. Blood also began to drip onto the floor as her flesh split. Frozen in place, they could only watch as her body began to tremble and shake under their arms, but the white light continued to transfer the wound from the man’s body to hers. She screamed again, a cry of pure anguish, and then slumped into their arms.

  Taryn lifted her feather light form and laid her on another table as everyone gathered around.

  "Do something!" someone said to Siarra, but she shook her head.

  "I cannot; there is nothing I can do."

  Taryn swallowed hard and was about to say something, but the gray on the leg slowly, ever so slowly, began to lighten and disappear. It took a full five minutes for the death lines to completely recede and the wound in her thigh to knit. With a gasp she sat up and took a few deep breaths.

  "Are you OK?" Liri asked, worry etched in her voice.

  "I'm fine; just give me a minute," she said hoarsely as she massaged her leg. Then without a word she jumped down and moved to her bar. Slopping amber liquid into a glass she drained it with a wince. After another moment she gave a small smile. "I'm OK, but I can honestly say it would have been less painful to tear my leg off piece by piece and then grow a new one.” She shuddered at some memory and asked, “How did he get hurt anyway?"

  A deep voice behind them answered: "The assassin came for me."

  They all turned to see the human sitting up on the table. For the first time he looked alive, and he was quick to stand and test his legs.

  "Well that chicken soup definitely helped," Trin said with a grin.

  The man snorted in agreement. "Who healed me?" His said, his voice dead and raspy.

  Aléthya stepped forw
ard and moved to stand in front of him. "I did. You had been poisoned by something dark."

  "How did you heal me?"

  Aléthya smiled wryly. "Technically, I didn’t. I transferred your wound to my own body, and then I healed myself."

  The man dropped to his knees and kissed her hand, exclaiming in a voice choked with emotion, "I am deeply sorry for the pain you must have had to endure for me . . . thank you, my lady."

  For a moment there was silence as everyone in the room began to understand the depth of the man's pain over the past few weeks.

  Siarra finally stepped forward. "What is your name, sir?"

  The man rose and looked at her, his frame strong and tall once more. "I am Ryben, the woodsman of the East, a tracker and guide for all eastern villages . . ." His face turned grim. ". . . at least until Griffin was invaded and Terros annihilated."

  Trin opened his mouth to say something, but Siarra cut him off. "I am Siarra Elseerian, the Oracle of the elves. There is much we must know, and precious little time. It would be best if you only explain this once today, to the high council of the elves."

  Ryben nodded and said simply, "Lead the way." He gestured for the Oracle to walk in front of him and fell into step the moment she swept past him. In an instant she returned to her desire to hurry and began to lengthen her stride. The others struggled to keep up with her magically enhanced steps as she headed towards the top of the city.

  They hastened to the palace and Liri led them through the main entrance and up a huge stone staircase covered in greenery. Once again Taryn couldn’t help but be amazed at the sheer volume of flowers and other vegetation growing out of the very walls and floors.

  She led them through corridors and guarded openings deep into the plateau until they finally came to a wide set of ornately carved doors. Two guards nodded at Liri and ushered them through. Entering the room, they saw several older elves already seated on chairs of beautiful curving trees surrounding a massive stone table in the shape of an oval. Each elf, dressed in formal clothes showing their rank, studied them as they came into view, and Taryn immediately felt self-conscious of his torn and dirty travelling clothes.

  As the Oracle approached the table, she beckoned to a guard and when he moved close to her, she whispered quietly, "Summon the arch historian from the archives." He bowed and left the room.

  Drawing near to the table she stopped and looked directly at the queen seated at the head. The other five members of the high council sat around her, but it seemed Siarra disregarded their presence.

  "My queen," she said in a ringing tone, "there is no time for formalities. We have six weeks, three days, and fourteen hours to prevent the inevitable.”

  "What do we face?" The queen asked solemnly.

  Siarra shook her head, and for the first time since Taryn had met her he saw unparalleled terror sweep across her features.

  She breathed out slowly and said simply, "Extinction."

  Despite her quiet tone, the word echoed through the chamber like a thunderclap, stunning everyone to silence. After several long moments someone managed to gasp, "Of the elves?"

  Voices bubbled up but Siarra cut them off with a raised hand.

  "No." Her tone carried such intense horror that all eyes locked on her expression until she spoke softly in the stillness: "Of everyone."

  Chapter 27: Council of War

  Deiran, the heavily built general of the army, swept to his feet. "What do you mean everyone?"

  Siarra started to respond but the queen stood up, her very presence silencing the room. "One moment, I ask of you. Please be seated and introduce our visitors so we may start at the beginning."

  Her tone held no animosity but still carried the weight of authority, and even Siarra found a seat with the others in their group. After nudging a hesitant Braon, Siarra moved to sit at the foot of the table with Taryn on her right, followed by Liri and then Jack. To the Oracle's left Braon settled uncomfortably into a seat while Trin sat himself next to the young man. Mae slid smoothly to his left and Ryben, the woodsman from the east, sat next to her small form.

  Once everyone had found a place to sit, the table felt considerably more crowded, with only a few chairs still empty. The queen remained standing and addressed the group. "I recognize the need for urgency, however this moment should be thought through, so let us begin by introducing ourselves, shall we?"

  Without waiting for a response she said in her light voice, "I am Ayame SerˊTármaril, the Queen of the elves." She smoothly sat and indicated for the elf on her right to stand.

  "Deiran Tandril, high general of the elven armies," he said shortly, bowing to the group. The general's eyebrows were gathered in what Taryn was beginning to think of as a perpetual scowl. Broad shouldered for an elf and tall as well, his form once again reminded Taryn of a human.

  Standing next, a soldier dressed in dark green armor announced himself quietly as Keiko Ker’isse, captain of the home guard. Like Deiran he stood slightly wider than the average elf, but his movements were far more fluid, and his clear blue eyes constantly roved the room—and the new individuals seated at the table. He gave Taryn the impression of contained fire that could explode at the first hint of danger.

  The next elf to stand bore a striking resemblance to Liri, and when she said her name was Lariel Tel'Runya, he wasn’t surprised. Almost identical to his long-time friend in every way, she carried the same beauty and grace, accentuated by her light eyes and even lighter hair. The only perceptible differences were the hair had begun to turn silvery, indicating that she was at least a few centuries old, and her demeanor appeared more somber than Liri’s, no less fiery, simply more disciplined. Taryn found himself wondering if he was looking at Liri in five hundred years. With his dwarf and elf blood he was glad he would be around to see it.

  From their group, Ryben stood first, his frame large yet somehow gentle as he pronounced in his deep voice his name and his position as the woodsman of the east. Maemi stood and said her name so fast that Taryn barely heard it and he fought to hide his smile. She didn’t like formal functions.

  Trin stood next and seemed completely at ease, although Taryn could almost feel his suppressed tension. After him the short, overweight Braon appeared awkward and out of place. Siarra then spoke quickly and abruptly it was Taryn’s turn. Despite his self-consciousness he straightened and said his name without title or origin. Liri followed him and smiled at her mother when she stated the name of her house.

  For a moment Taryn watched the two, mother and daughter, obviously proud of each other and still close, despite the thirty years without contact—and wished he knew what that was like.

  Jack fluidly stood and with a smug expression said, “Jack Myst, formerly of the thieves’ guild. It’s good to be in Azertorn again.” He winked slyly at the captain of the home guard but before he could sit down, Keiko was on his feet.

  "He is not welcome here," he said firmly. "He should be in chains, or executed."

  Before the queen could respond, Siarra mildly stated, "And yet he is, and has been, vital to our cause." Keiko's eyes snapped to the queen, who shook her head slightly, so he reluctantly sat down, his expression fiercely disapproving. Jack ghosted a smile before bowing to Siarra and sitting. Taryn suppressed a grin and leaned forward a bit to see the next elf, who was already saying his name.

  Ladarius Re'Keserian proclaimed himself to be the head of the house of Keserian, the second ruling house of Azertorn. Although he said as little as everyone else, his tone and his robes spoke volumes about his character. Speaking with a subtle tinge of aloofness, especially when he announced his title, he wore robes far more ornate and expensive than those of anyone else at the table.

  The last one to stand proclaimed himself to be Teleriel Sur'Maegrian, archmage of the guild of magi. His expensive robes rustled slightly as he stood, and it was evident the colors were amplified by magic. A glance towards Siarra when he said his title revealed an air of superiority.

  The queen f
inally stood and thanked the group. "Liriana of the house of Runya, please start at the beginning when you left the city, and then perhaps the Oracle can finish the tale and explain her previous words."

  Siarra fidgeted beside Taryn, and he could feel her frustration at having to wait further, but she didn’t comment as Liri stood and began to tell of their journey to the Oracle's home. She conspicuously left out both Taryn's test of loyalty and Jack's attempt to steal from them, so it didn’t take her long before she nodded graciously to Siarra and allowed her to take over the tale at the point when they had arrived at her home.

  Siarra virtually leapt to her feet and explained Death's attack on her home, including the full details of the destruction and slaying of everyone there. When she described the assassin, several people shifted, including Ryben, who unconsciously rubbed his thigh where he'd been injured by the same killer.

  Siarra continued by describing their flight from the swamp and the elves that had disappeared during the night when Deiran interrupted.

  "That's impossible! No assassin could take so many elves unaware! Especially Denithir’s command." His face tightened in fury, but diffused slightly when Siarra began nodding at him.

  "You are correct general—no assassin could catch so many elves unaware . . ."

  "Then how could—" he blustered, but she cut him off in a voice of ice.

  "They weren't unaware, general, they were extremely vigilant—and he still killed them like they were children!” By now she was leaning forward, her voice thick with anger. Silenced, Deiran sat with his mouth agape.