The Chronicles of Lumineia: Book 03 - Seven Days

by Ben Hale

  “Give me some more light, would you?” Siarra asked, moving to examine her work.

  Royl waved a hand and the flameless torches brightened. “Is it safe?”

  Her brow furrowed but she nodded. “I believe this section is, but I have another one to clear ahead.” Striding forward, she led the way.

  Falling into step, they followed until they hit the next section of crumbled debris. Once she was satisfied it was also safe, they passed through and entered a large, domed cavern that had obviously been shaped by dwarves. Faint carvings could be seen on the walls and ceiling, almost hidden by a layer of dirt and grime. One by one, they entered the chamber, spreading out to listen at each of the adjoining corridors.

  Siarra moved to the exact center and cocked her head. After a moment she turned and whispered, “There are no fiends in the tunnels nearby, but I cannot sense very far in such dense rock.”

  Royl gave Cadel a signal and several giants took up position at the various portals. Facing Siarra, he pointed to three openings. “That one will take Aiden, Dulnak and the human to the bridge. The one beside it leads to the escape tunnels of the city, and that smaller opening leads to the valley. You had better say your farewells here. Once the battle is joined . . .” He shrugged and turned back to the stream of giants entering the chamber.

  Taryn couldn’t bring himself to meet his sister's gaze, so he turned to Jack. “Good luck my friend. I hope you manage to bring that bridge down.” His voice sounded hollow, even to him, but if anyone noticed, they gave no sign.

  Jack clasped his arm and smirked. “We will do our part,” he said, and then the grin faded. “You have been a true friend, Taryn, and I hope you survive.”

  Taryn blew out his breath and a faint smile spread across his lips. “You too.”

  Trin then stepped between them, clasping the thief's arm. Before Taryn could move, Liri sidled up next to him and nudged him in Siarra’s direction. The loaded look she gave him drove him the final steps to his sister.

  He waited until Mae had finished her farewell and stepped away. Then Siarra met his gaze. For a moment they looked at each other, until Siarra crossed the intervening space in a rush. Embracing him in a fierce hug, she whispered into his ear, “This is not a goodbye Taryn.”

  He felt his shoulder turn damp, and he clenched his jaw against his rising emotions. “How do you know?” he whispered back.

  After what seemed a long time, she answered. “I don’t, but I want to believe we will survive.”

  They separated, and Taryn said, “You are the only family I have.”

  Siarra’s expression softened and she reached towards her throat. Pulling into view a pendent on a white, silvery chain, she lifted it from her neck. Raising it into the light she said, “This was Ianna’s. She gave it to me before she left.”

  He bent close and examined the small circle of shimmering metal. Marked by a single triangle, it glittered with subtle energy.

  “The triangle is the ancient symbol of magic. It represents Sight, Force, and Control, and symbolizes the perfect balance of Power.” Siarra’s voice was tender, giving him the impression she was sharing a memory. She glanced up at him, her eyes moist. “This is the crest of the Oracle.” Offering it to him, she said. “Our mother placed something on the other side.”

  Awed, he accepted the gift, his skin tingling as the feather weight touched his palm. Turning it over in his hand, he saw the words engraved on the back.

  The greatest Power comes from family.

  His throat tightened as he read the words, written by the mother he had never known. The ache of her loss swept through him, and he closed his eyes against it. But then he felt the chain of the Oracle’s crest fall over his neck and his eyes snapped open.

  “No Siarra, I can’t. This is yours,” he said, beginning to take it off, but she stopped him.

  “Not anymore, little brother. I need you to take care of this for me, just in case.”

  Moisture blossomed into his eyes and he couldn’t stop it. Ashamed, he embraced her again. Abruptly parting, he turned and walked briskly towards the tunnel he would take to face Draeken. He didn’t look back until he had safely ducked into the darkness.

  “Goodbye Siarra,” he whispered.

  ***

  Siarra watched him go, regret and sadness sinking into her heart. If she had a choice, it would have been to go fight Draeken with her brother, but she knew in that future they would not succeed. Despite her confidence that her presence would cause defeat, she still could not sense their victory. Unbidden, her thoughts turned to her mother, who had instructed her when she was young on what being the Oracle would be like.

  “When you have the power to see all energy, and all magic, you will also have a special Sight,” Ianna had once told her. “You will be able to sense what will happen when two adversaries face each other, and because you will See their souls, you will know the victor. When you are focused, you will feel everything from the subtle breeze that bends the grass, telling you of a future storm, to the very result of war.”

  “But what if you can’t see something?” she had asked, eager for more. “What does that mean?”

  Her mother had leaned back, her eyes looking far away. “There are a few reasons you will be unable to See. If you are unfocused or too tired, your power will become elusive. Fear, however, is the greatest block to your Sight. If you are afraid, for a person or their fate, you will be blinded.”

  Siarra sighed, the memory of a happier time fading as her gaze lingered on the dark tunnel where Taryn had just departed. Unable to resist, she allowed her eyes to slip into the Sight. As always, the world around her faded, replaced with thousands of shades of color. The stone, monotone gray and solid, presented a dark backdrop against the beacons of light that were the people in the room.

  Each fire giant was a swirling mass of red, orange, or shifting red, and some contained all three, reminding her that each person carried a unique signature of color. Glancing at Royl, she saw his color stood out brighter than the others, telling her of his greater strength. Of any person in the room, Royl was the strongest, and would undoubtedly be the victor against any present—except for her.

  But Taryn was not in the room.

  Turning towards Taryn’s corridor, she allowed her eyes to look through the stone until she saw him, leaning against the wall just inside the dark. Pure red, bright blue, and vibrant white, cascaded through him in colors so bright she felt like shading her eyes. Merging with streaks of green, they blossomed into spirals of light. Although they carried no hint of magic, the color hues told her all she needed to know. Born of dwarves, elves, and humans, Taryn had inherited the strengths of all three races. The result was an almost limitless raw power and strength flowing through him, far surpassing Royl and any of his people.

  She blinked and looked past Taryn, tightening her vision to penetrate the mountain until she caught a glimpse of Draeken before withdrawing. In that single image, she saw dark red and vibrant black without measure, bound and chained. In her mind’s eye, she matched the two energy signatures, her brother against the evil creature that had spawned this foul war.

  She could not see who was stronger.

  But she knew her fear for Taryn was too powerful. With all her willpower, she tried to contain her worry, but it only laughed a deep mocking laugh and refused to be bound. With a sigh, she returned her vision to normal, wishing she was better, wishing she could help, and wishing she was not so afraid.

  Liri appeared in the corner of her eye then, and she turned to see her approach.

  “You alright?” Liri asked, her eyebrows pulling together.

  Siarra nodded and forced a smile. “Ready as I will ever be.”

  Liri’s features saddened. “I will miss you, Siarra. You have been a wonderful friend.” Before she could respond, Liri embraced her warmly and whispered into her ear. “Thank you for everything you did for Taryn.”

  Siarra hugged her back, wondering if this is what it wo
uld be like to have a sister. “You have done more for him than I.”

  They separated, and she saw that Liri’s eyes were moist. Feeling a lump rise in her throat, Siarra said, “I want you to promise to take care of him. Don’t give up when he doesn’t see how much you care for him—or how much he cares for you. We both know he is utterly helpless in such matters.”

  They shared an affectionate smile, and once again Siarra wished it could end differently. If Taryn and Liri survived, she knew that at some point they were likely to be joined. Then she would have had a sister. Swallowing the knot of sadness, she said a farewell, hating the ring of finality in those words.

  Feeling a sudden desire to be gone, she embraced Trin. Last of all, she found herself facing Jack. Just as every time she saw him, she felt a flash of annoyance at the same time her heart fluttered. Feeling uncomfortable with him avoiding eye contact, she gave him an awkward hug and said good bye. Parting quickly, the thief turned and stalked away.

  Watching him depart in such a hurry, she felt irritation mix with her disappointment. Is that all? she thought, feeling annoyed. I thought this close to the end he would admit how he felt. Perhaps I should . . .

  She quashed the thought, unable to acknowledge—even to herself—how strongly she felt for him. And if he couldn't bring himself to speak in a time like this, then he didn't deserve her anyway. Reminding herself that he had just rebuffed her in the last chance for him to voice his thoughts, she felt her irritation spike to anger.

  Whirling, she stalked towards Royl and waited until he had finished with the last of his forces. With hundreds of fire giants now lining the cavern, it felt smaller, and noticeably warmer.

  “Ready?” she asked him.

  He nodded and turned to speak to everyone in the room. His deep voice rumbled as he spoke, but he still managed to keep it quiet. “Humans, giants and elves, we face an army thousands of times larger than our own. We cannot defeat them, we cannot slay them, but we can be victorious.” His expression turned fierce and he raised an arm that exploded with fire from his elbow to his fist.

  Siarra felt like cheering, but instead raised her own fist, joining the fire giants in the silent tribute of conviction. Every hand raised into the air, and fire burst into view from the other giants. Liri, Trin, Jack, and Mae joined in, their fists rising in salute of their joined courage. Pride swelled in Siarra's chest, enflaming her courage and making her believe, even if for only a moment, that they might succeed.

  A movement caught Siarra’s eye, and she turned to see Taryn standing in the archway, his fist lifted and his expression full of sorrow. Catching his eye, she gave him a nod. Across the room, he gave a tiny nod back at her, and then smiled the saddest smile she had ever seen. Brother and sister, they both knew that victory or defeat hinged on their efforts, and that every soul in Lumineia depended on them.

  Two minutes later, she entered the western tunnel and began her descent towards the valley floor, alone.

  Chapter 27: Secrets

  Trin slid into line beside Mae as Captain Arrow and his command, along with the two elves, began the journey through the tunnels towards their appointed destination. While everyone else had been saying good bye, Trin hadn’t managed to say anything to Mae. It felt awkward to say farewell when they were going into battle together.

  Sidling up next to her, he asked, “Do you think we will ever see Siarra or Jack again?”

  “I don’t know. I’m sure Jack will find some way to get out alive. He’s always been a survivor.” Her voice dropped as she glanced in Taryn’s direction. “But I don’t think Siarra has any way out.”

  “I still can’t imagine her losing a fight,” Trin whispered, slowing his pace to put more distance between them and Taryn. He appeared deep in a conversation with Liri, but Trin didn’t want to risk their elven hearing.

  Mae slowed beside him and said, “I can’t either. Siarra is just too powerful, but against a million fiends . . .?”

  The bleakness to her tone reminded him of their earlier conversation. He’d hardly ever heard her display any sort of humor, and she had never laughed in his presence. He resolved to ask her, but for a long time couldn’t bring himself to do it. In silence, he walked beside her, trying to build up his courage. Just when he began to worry they were nearing the end of the tunnel, he decided he could wait no longer.

  “Can I ask you a personal question?” Trin blurted, his heart pounding.

  Mae looked at him and frowned, not in an angry or unhappy way, but curious. “You can always ask,” she said, “but I may not answer.”

  Trin took courage from her light tone and slowed his step even more, bringing them to the very back of the line of soldiers. While Mae drifted back to walk beside him, he composed his thoughts, so when she joined him, he was ready.

  “What did you mean when you said that some people have reasons not to laugh?” He’d considered taking a roundabout way to get the answer from her, but it just wasn’t his style.

  For over a minute he waited, listening to the muted sounds of boots striking the stone around them. Although he tried to be patient, when she finally answered his neck felt warm under his collar, and he’d begun to sweat.

  “Can you keep a secret?” she whispered, her voice tight and vulnerable.

  Impulsively, he slid his hand into hers, grateful that she did not pull away. “To the grave,” he replied, squeezing her hand, and hoping that time wouldn't arrive in the next few hours.

  Walking together with his hand wrapped in hers, the wait passed more quickly than with the previous question. He hoped she would open up to him—but he also worried he would say something that would end the moment. Something had happened early in Maemi’s life, and he sensed it was bad. She was one of the few elves he’d ever met to be so guarded.

  Finally Mae began to speak. “What I am about to tell you, I have never shared with anyone, and when I say do not share it with others, I mean it.”

  He nodded to her, recognizing the level of determination in her eyes as she’d said it. There was no doubt in his mind that severe bodily harm had been suggested in the veiled threat.

  She looked away and swallowed several times. “When I was a child, my father was . . . cruel. He hit us.”

  Trin felt his chest tighten at her words, but he forced the rising anger down so he could listen.

  “My older brother and I were very close," she said, her voice wooden and distant, "and he did his best to protect me, but that only seemed to anger our father more. Several times a week he would come home from the barracks, furious and out of control. Every time, Stian would send me to my room, stepping between us so I could try to leave.”

  “I can still hear his belt.”

  Trin’s breath caught in his throat, and it took all his willpower to keep his tongue in check.

  “When he was done with Stian, he came for me. After the beatings, he would chain us to the wall and leave. Sometimes he left us there for days. When he did let us out, he was always sorry for a time. Then it would happen again. It wasn’t until I turned eleven that my brother told me why our father was so angry.”

  “Stian told me that our mother had left our father soon after I was born. She told him she had been with someone else, and she was leaving to be with him. She never came back, and it destroyed my father. He became bitter and angry, and his anger became a festering poison. My brother and I were both ashamed, and we hid the marks until they faded into scars, hoping he would come out of it, but he never did.”

  Mae fell silent for several minutes, and Trin did his best to be patient. The rage he felt toward Mae’s father throbbed through him, mixing with the helplessness he felt. He had no idea what to say or do to comfort her. His own father had been stern, but had never laid a hand to him or to Arrow. His youth had been paradise compared to hers. Glancing at her profile, he felt his heart crack.

  “So how did you end up on Sri Rosen?” he asked, keeping his voice light.

  “Stian was fourteen years o
lder than me, but had stayed behind rather than go to his training. He told me he would never leave me alone until I could join him. We both dreamed of the day we would leave together and train in combat. I hoped it would give me the freedom to never be afraid again."

  She paused, and her voice hardened. “But it never happened. Shortly after I turned eighteen, my father came home enraged. From the bits and pieces we could understand, our mother had come to him and asked for forgiveness, but he would have no part of it. He took his fury out on Stian. When my father drew his blade, I tried to stop him, but I was too slow . . .”

  “He killed him?!” Trin said, astonished.

  “Stian stayed behind to protect me, and got killed for it. It’s my fault he died.” She choked on the last words.

  Trin stopped midstride, too stunned to continue. She came to a halt beside him, her fists clenched and her jaw rigid. He thought she would cry, but no tears came. On impulse he reached for her. Wrapping his long arms around her small frame, he felt her cling to him as her body quivered. For over a minute they stood rooted in the darkening corridor as the soldiers ahead of them continued to advance.

  Just as he was about to pull her after them, he saw the soldiers stop, and he knew they had reached the end of the tunnel. Satisfied they would not be left behind, he hugged her tighter, wishing there was something more he could do. “It’s not your fault,” he whispered, but it didn't seem to help.

  Then she controlled herself and pulled away.

  “What happened to your father?” Trin asked.

  She took a deep breath and unclenched her teeth. “I fled to the palace, and the captain of the home guard was on duty. He took my father away and within days the queen had banished him. I just wish I would have told them before. Then maybe Stian would still be alive.”