The Chronicles of Lumineia: Book 01 - Elseerian

by Ben Hale

  Her voice rang throughout the chamber, and for the first time the true danger of the assassin came into focus. Almost everyone that didn’t know the end of the tale tensed and looked around as if Death was already lurking around them. Surprisingly, the queen's soft expression didn’t change except for a slight tightening of her eyebrows.

  "Please proceed with your tale," she requested, serene despite the upswing in tension.

  Siarra thanked the queen with a glance and continued with the desperate battle at the ravine and the fall of Ren. Taryn glanced at the queen and saw her face go rigid as she swallowed hard upon the news of her bodyguard’s death, but she didn’t interrupt. Taryn felt a pang of sorrow as well, and the image of the memory orb falling into the ravine flashed across his eyes.

  When Siarra came to the battle in the grotto, she stopped and inclined her head towards Taryn, saying, "I was knocked out early in the fight. I believe Taryn can explain the rest of the battle. She sat and looked expectantly at him. Surprised, he stood slowly to organize his thoughts before speaking.

  Beginning with Death's attack, he told of Denithir's valiant effort to save the Oracle. Catching the saddening expression on the queen’s features almost made him stop, but he forced himself to describe the feigned slaying of Jack Myst and then his own battle with Death, followed by Jack's rising to destroy the assassin.

  A palpable sigh went through the room as he sat, and several people tried to speak at the same time. Teleriel, the archmage, spoke the loudest. "Why was he able to destroy the creature?" he demanded over the babble of voices.

  Everyone quieted again and looked at the Oracle, who shook her head. "I cannot say."

  In that instant something clicked in Taryn's mind. "But I do," he said hesitantly.

  Every eye turned to him but he just stared off into space, trying to remember a conversation in Keese. What was it that Rezko had said about a thief being . . . the cheater of death. That was it!

  He snapped back to the present and looked at Jack. "Have you ever been called the cheater of death?"

  Jack smirked and nodded.

  The captain of the home guard snorted, still angry. "I think we've tried to kill him at least a couple of times."

  Jack's smirk widened. "Six actually, in different guises."

  Keiko glowered at him, but Taryn spoke loudly, drawing attention back to himself. "Don't you see? He was supposed to kill death. Perhaps the only one that could."

  "Are you trying to say that this . . . thief . . . is the only one who could have killed the assassin?" Ladarius Keserian challenged, his voice full of scorn.

  "My uncle on Sri Rosen said something to me before I left," Taryn said forcefully, knowing his words to be true. "He said everyone was important in the battle against evil, that everyone had a specific place and a specific purpose."

  "But he is the evil," Ladarius scoffed.

  "No," Siarra said quietly, drawing attention to herself. "He's not." She looked at Taryn. "Thank you, Taryn, for helping me to understand." Then she looked directly at the queen and stood up once more. "The true evil is the source of power that sent the assassin to slay me."

  "Who?" several people asked, but instead of answering, Siarra turned around and indicated for a wizened old elf, who had slipped into the room unnoticed, to come forward.

  "Father of records, please come and tell us about the one who commanded Death."

  The old elf walked forward slowly and stood next to Siarra, gazing at each of the high council in turn.

  "His name is Draeken, the demigod of chaos, my queen." His voice was whispery, like two scrolls being rubbed together, and the sound matched his wrinkled face perfectly. He was perhaps the only elf Taryn had ever seen that truly looked ancient.

  Teleriel, the archmage, snorted and gave a dismissive wave. "That's impossible, he was destroyed during the holocaust ten thousand years ago."

  The elderly elf shook his head. "No; I believe he was not killed. I believe he was only imprisoned." He coughed and Siarra touched him briefly. Energy seemed to flow into him and he stood straighter. Thanking her with a glance, he continued, "For those of you who do not know, Draeken was cast out by the gods for conspiring to destroy them. He was cast down here and bound. As a final mockery, Skorn told him he would be freed 'when chaos reigned upon the earth.' Without being able to implement his own desired result, he could only languish, trapped and helpless, able only to hope for the races to bring about this destruction on their own.

  "But the gods did not know how close Draeken was to destroying them. Unbeknownst to them he had created an army, so vast it could destroy everything in the heavens—and he'd gathered the fiends into a place where he could open a portal to bring them in.

  "Furious at his banishment, he found a way to open the portal from within his confinement, and the holocaust began. Death was the forerunner, killing leaders and other key warriors. However, his ability to take lives was far surpassed by his power to spread fear and divide the races. This terror was his most effective weapon to keep people separated and easier to conquer. He was the perfect assassin, and until now, I believed nothing could kill him." He inclined his head towards Jack Myst before continuing.

  "Famine and Plague came next. Riding separately, they swept through the countryside to weaken the population by destroying food and spreading disease. The closer they came, the weaker armies became. Food became spoiled and rancid; men and women were too sick to fight. There was no defense and no way to stop it.

  "Last of all rode War, general of the fiend army. Leading the countless hordes he swept the land, killing everything and everyone that had survived his predecessors’ attacks. We do not know much about him because the army disappeared before they had gone very far."

  Ryben suddenly interrupted, his deep voice resonating through the room, "I saw him—I saw War.” His big frame twitched and he swallowed at the memory. “When they wiped out Terros, he was there."

  The historian coughed. "It has begun then, the beginning of the end."

  "Can Draeken be killed?" Ladarius asked, his voice full of bluster, but a sliver of fear had seeped in.

  The wizened elf bobbed his head. "The Oracle of that age prophesied that only if the races combined could Draeken truly be destroyed. Lakonus, said to be descended from the elves, humans, and dwarves, sought the Lord of Chaos, and gave his life to destroy him—at least that is the way the legend goes."

  At the mention of the blood of the races in one hero, a shiver of foreboding crawled up Taryn’s spine and he almost missed what was said next.

  "But you don't believe he was killed." Lariel spoke for the first time.

  He nodded again. "I believe that Lakonus didn't kill him, but he somehow managed to close the portal. In that moment, all the fiends were pulled back to their home, disappearing in an instant."

  "Why do you believe this, Sirfalas?" the queen asked.

  "Because it is the only explanation. All the signs are the same. Draeken has certainly opened the portal again. I understand this only now that I have heard of the destruction at Terros and Death's demise." He wheezed to a stop and fell silent.

  After a moment of silence Siarra broke the stillness, "As with all Oracles, most of my power was chained at an early age to prevent misuse, so I did not understand the full extent of the danger until I was unbound two days ago. As soon as I knew, I hastened to this high council so we can prepare with all speed."

  "Is there any hope for us?" the queen asked, a desperate glimmer in her expression.

  "Some," Siarra answered. "We have more time to prepare than before." She nodded towards Ryben. "The woodsman has given us that."

  He started and leaned forward. "Me? How?"

  "When Death didn’t kill you, you were able to warn Terros. War then moved up his plans and tried to wipe out the eastern kingdom before he was ready, before his full army had come through the portal. It’s because of you that so many refugees from the eastern kingdom made it out alive. You . . . "—she leaned
in—"are the Watcher."

  "Ah, yes!" Sirfalas smiled for the first time. "The ancient prophecy spoke of a Watcher who would warn the kingdoms to prepare. No one seemed to fit the role at the time, so that part was dismissed as an error."

  "How much time did we gain?" Keiko asked.

  "We would have had a month, but thanks to Ryben we now have a little more than six weeks before he reaches this city. While we gather and fortify here, Taryn must find and destroy Draeken."

  Taryn snapped to look at her, shocked. "Me?"

  She returned his gaze with kind eyes. "You, brother, are the one in the prophecy. Only you can kill Draeken, just as Jack killed Death."

  Taryn started to protest but Ladarius beat him to it. “That boy!” He said with a wave of his hand. “We don’t even know who he is. There is certainly an elven warrior that can best him!”

  The archmage echoed his comments, but trailed off when Liri began to laugh scornfully. The harsh sound caused several in the room to look at her oddly until she stopped and met Telerial’s gaze. “You are indeed a fool if you think someone can defeat Taryn.”

  She rose to her feet when the mage’s face clouded with anger, preventing him from speaking. “Think about it magi,” she said, her tone shifting to persuasive. “The greatest skills of the dwarves, stamina, endurance and strength, added to the cunning and shrewdness of humans, and joined with the speed and agility of our race . . .”

  Many eyes looked at Taryn with newfound intensity, but all he felt was dread. How could he be the one to perform such an act? He couldn’t do anything but swing a weapon! A tidal wave of discouragement threatened to engulf him, and he looked away from the searching looks at the head of the table, only to meet the gaze of his friends.

  Confidence radiated from each of them, bolstering his courage enough that he managed not to reveal his despair. Then Liri sat down, her expression triumphant as she looked at Taryn, and the worry evaporated as quickly as it had come, replaced by the warmth of confidence—weak, but growing stronger. In that moment he thought of Denithir’s dying words, and the promise he’d made to himself.

  Now was the time to fulfill that vow.

  Returning to the conversation, Taryn heard Deiran interrupt Siarra.

  "So we have six weeks to prepare the city?" the general asked.

  She nodded and then he looked at the archmage. "How many can you gather?"

  "At least ten thousand battle magi," he responded with pride.

  "I can summon three legions of twenty thousand each and have the city prepared within the time frame," Deiran said, looking at Teleriel. "We can be prepared to defend the city against any force by then. I can lead the defenses indefinitely within the walls of this city."

  The archmage nodded, smiling. "Then it's settled. We gather, and hold out until Taryn can kill Draeken."

  "Or until we defeat the invasion." The general nodded sharply.

  "FOOLS!" Siarra's voice thundered through the chamber at the same time her fists smashed into the table, cracking it all the way to the queen. Before the sound had died away she lifted a hand and clenched her fist. Energy arced through the general and the archmage and seemed to clamp their mouths shut. Everyone froze at the sight and watched the two elves desperately struggle to part their lips. When she spoke again, her venomously soft tone shook with contained fury. "This army was created to destroy the gods! They will number in the billions and you will be nothing more than flies to be swatted. If Deiran leads the defenses,”—she jerked a finger at him and he flinched—“you will fall in a single HOUR!" She finished in a low hiss that shook everyone at the table.

  Blue energy abruptly crackled all around the Oracle, and Taryn wasn’t the only one to lean away from the awesome display of power. Before anyone could move her hand shot out, making them all jump, but it stopped and pointed at Braon. With her voice still furiously quiet she said, "If HE leads the defenses—of every member—of every race, all gathered upon this cliff . . . then—and only then—you might last seven days. That is longest you can hope to survive, seven days!"

  Despite her low tone, her words echoed and re-echoed throughout their minds, and the weight of understanding finally settled on every person in the room like the rock ceiling had suddenly crashed onto them. Every race had to be convinced to come, then gathered, then prepared to defend, and they could still only last seven days?

  Responsibility suddenly crushed Taryn as he realized that thousands of lives would be lost every minute until he defeated Draeken—who hadn't been killed the last time. He swallowed and bowed his head, humbled once again by his calling in the coming war.

  The silence stretched on as Siarra’s magic dissipated, and still no one spoke. Finally the queen slowly rose to her feet.

  "Every person has a purpose, no matter how small. We must collect every life of every race in the coming weeks. Our lives depend on this as much as theirs. My brothers and sisters . . . we must commence the greatest gathering in the history of our world as we fight for the survival of our race. Let us not fail our descendents.

  "General, gather the troops. Archmage, gather your magi. Braon—" When she said his name he blinked hard and swallowed. "—lead us . . . and gather everyone else. I have always trusted the Oracle, and so I shall trust you." Her tone became one of ringing authority and she cast a sharp look at Deiran. “As of this moment, I relinquish all military command to Braon. He is now, and will be, our battle commander until we either survive by some miracle, or perish. Let us pray the Oracle has chosen him wisely, for every life in Lumineia now rests in his hands.” Her eyes flicked to Telerial and Ladarius, both of whom looked about to protest. Her gaze was wide and challenging, against which their eyes dropped to the table.

  With that said, she nodded sympathetically at Braon and swept from the room. Again silence enveloped them as everyone looked at the individuals around them, wondering who would survive the coming conflict.

  Taryn found himself holding Liri's hand and looking at the young man bowing his head in front of him. In his heart he wondered if the two of them would be able to perform their assigned tasks, for quite literally the weight of the world rested on their shoulders.

  Taryn had never felt so small.

  Chapter 28: The Prophecy

  "Do you think we have a chance?" Taryn asked Siarra as they stood at the battlements on the highest level of Azertorn. She didn’t respond for several minutes, and they both watched the sun begin to set on the horizon. Bright light gradually faded from yellow to orange and then slowly to red before the sun sank below the horizon and darkness blanketed the countryside.

  "I honestly don't know, Taryn." She sighed and looked at him. For the first time he felt like she was his older sister and he realized he had missed her while he was growing up. "I can feel them coming," she said, her voice soft, "and I can feel us fighting, but after that there is . . . nothing. There is simply too much that our survival depends on, too many factors for me to sense past."

  "Do you think I can do it?" Taryn asked, unable to meet her penetrating gaze.

  "No question," she replied with a compassionate smile on her lips.

  He sighed, and neither spoke for several minutes until Taryn asked a question that had been nagging him. "I asked you something before, but I didn’t get an answer. I was wondering why you trained with a sword, especially considering your magical abilities and all."

  She glanced at him, her expression tender. "Because our mother's weapon was a blade, a katsana, and I guess I wanted to be close to her." Her eyes seemed to stare right through him for a moment. “I used to train with her, you know. We would as often as we could, both with weapons and with magic."

  "Is it common for Oracles to train in combat?" he asked. For some reason it seemed odd for a magi to use a weapon.

  She shrugged. "Normally they were taught the basics, although I don’t think very many had to use their battle training. Despite that, there have been quite a few Oracles in the past that have chosen to train exte
nsively with a weapon and enchant one of their choosing. Any such items are exceptionally rare and incredibly powerful."

  Taryn drew Ianna from the sheath on his back and laid it on the stone in front of them. "Was this hers?"

  Siarra's eyes lit up at the sight of the glimmering weapon, and she gently took it from him. Reverently, she slid her finger up the flat side.

  "I haven't seen this sword in many years—and yes, it was hers." She morphed it to the bow and back again, sighing in deep satisfaction before returning it to him.

  "I was there when she enchanted it to become a bow." She smiled at the memory. "This particular spell of transfiguration is no easy feat—even for an Oracle, but I believe she meant for you to have it. She made it a few months before she left with Mazer."

  Taryn returned Ianna to its scabbard and drew his father's sword. "What about this?"

  Gently she took the long katsana, musing to herself. "Hmm, now this is new." She stroked the sharp edge, eliciting a dull flash of light that cut her finger.

  Chuckling she rubbed her finger and it healed quickly. "It's a sharpening augmentation, plus a few other . . . enhancements. The sharpening enchantment alone is one of the trickiest imaginable and requires the utmost skill and focus in metal magic, a highly advanced type of stone energy." She paused and ran her healed finger along the engraved name. "Mazer . . .," she murmured. "She must have made this for him before her power was lost." She palmed the hilt and flicked the tip outward. "Perfectly balanced, but I do believe it was like that before she added her touch." She met his gaze. "It's definitely your father’s weapon."

  Taryn smiled sadly and took the offered hilt. "I wish I could have known them."

  Siarra nodded, her expression mirroring his own. "I know how you feel. I wish Ianna were here to help me figure out what I am supposed to do."

  "I think you are doing pretty well on your own."