The Chronicles of Lumineia: Book 02 - The Gathering

by Ben Hale

  Siarra gave him an understanding smile and touched the druid’s arm. "Trust your instincts, Guidrian, and when you arrive at Azertorn, speak to Braon. I have placed him in charge of the defenses, but he will need your help.”

  The man nodded and turned away, but hesitated and turned around. "It was good to see you Jack," he said.

  Taryn eyes widened as he looked to the thief, who didn't meet the eyes of anyone, including Newhawk. For the first time Taryn realized that Jack hadn't said a word since they had entered the druid settlement. When he didn't respond, the druid sighed and departed, leaving several confused individuals staring at Jack.

  "How do you know Newhawk?" Siarra demanded.

  He shrugged and said, "I will meet up with you tomorrow morning." With that he spun on his heel and stalked away.

  "Jack!" Siarra called, but he didn't turn.

  "What was that about?" Taryn asked.

  "He has issues," Trin said with a shrug, and turned to enter the hut.

  Mae, still frowning, followed him inside.

  "Something about his past haunts him here," Liri murmured, and turned to enter the hut.

  Taryn and Siarra stared at the darkness where Jack had disappeared until Taryn asked, "Do you think he will come back?"

  Siarra shook her head. "I don't know, but I think it best for us to get some answers." Tilting her head upward, she said, "Can you summon Agrial please?"

  Confused, Taryn followed Siarra's gaze and spotted a familiar hawk perched on a branch. "Do you think he will know about Jack?" Taryn asked.

  "I am not sure, but I doubt he will tell us himself."

  Taryn grunted in agreement, and together they waited until the druid stepped out of the shadows. "Oracle, how can I assist you?"

  Never one to mince words, she asked, "What do you know about Jack Myst?"

  Agrial winced. "It is not a tale that is mine to tell."

  "Please?" Siarra asked. "Something tells me we will not hear it from him."

  "That is probably true," he said with a wry smile. "He is traveling with you for a reason that I cannot fathom, so perhaps it would be best if you know the truth."

  Looking away, Agrial blew out his breath, "His father was a druid in one of the smaller settlements west of Keilera. I was told he used to be a good man, and had even bonded with a lion, a sign of strength and wisdom. Few were aware of his taste for strong drink.

  “At some point the drink got the best of him and he began to . . . hurt Jack's mother, who was not a true druid because she had no joined one. At the time Jack was too young to do anything, barely fourteen if I recall, but he confronted his father anyway. In response, his father gave him a thrashing that took months to heal. I believe he still carries the scars on his back."

  Agrial's gaze flickered to Siarra before he looked away again. "In truth, we know little about that time of Jack's life. What we do know came from his mother. She shared a little with Newhawk, but not enough for him to understand the severity of the issue.

  "Soon after that Jack came of age and departed for his joining, and Shadero came to him. Shadero was a panther, strong and agile, and they were one of the best matched pairs that I have ever seen.

  "By that time, Jack spent most of his time in the forest, and as a result, gained much of Shadero's ability. As he drifted away, his father sunk deeper and deeper into a bottle.

  “He returned one day to find his father once again striking his mother, and Jack leapt between them. In a rage, Jack's father broke one of the strongest tenets of our magic, and forced his Joré to attack his son. Shadero intervened . . . and died at the hands of the lion. In the ensuing conflict—" He shifted his feet and blinked away. "—Jack's mother was also slain." Agrial then shrugged, his expression one of helplessness and regret. "We believe the drunkenness had affected the lion as much as the father."

  "What happened after that?" Siarra asked in a hushed tone.

  "Jack ran, and once he made it into the trees, his father couldn't catch him. By the time Jack returned, his father had become a Joreia in the night.

  Startled, Taryn asked, “Is that possible in such a state?”

  “If the minds are in synch, and both parties choose to, then it can happen—but the lion had to agree. It must have been so twisted from his father’s influence that it agreed to the joining.”

  “What happened to the . . . lion after that?” Taryn asked.

  “He began to attack travelers and tradesmen, but before anyone could find him . . . Jack hunted him down and killed him.”

  For a moment no one spoke while Taryn struggled with what to say. Unable to meet Agrial's eyes, he turned away and studied the darkening village. It seemed unimaginable that a story so terrible could be true, and yet it explained volumes about Jack's behavior.

  "How did he become a thief then?" Siarra asked.

  "As to that," Agrial shrugged, "I cannot say. After he slew his father, I never saw him again—until today that is. We heard plenty though. When the tales of a thief called the 'cheater of death' surfaced, we guessed it to be him. The abilities of a panther are unmistakable if you know what to look for."

  Agrial lapsed into a silence that lasted until he turned to them with a grunt. "I hope you have learned what you need to know. If you wish to know more, you would have to ask him. I doubt anyone knows the full story of Jack Myst, except for him."

  Taryn didn't hear Siarra's response. He couldn’t settle the mixture of feelings that swirled in him. He felt anger towards Jack's father, worry for Jack, and frustration at himself. He doubted there was anything he could do for the thief now, but he couldn't dispel the desire to help.

  As the druid departed, he followed Siarra into the hut to find three bunk beds placed around a clean room. A fire had been laid and burned in the corner, warding off the cool night and brightened the cabin.

  A bark of laughter burst from Trin, startling them all. “I get the top bunk!” he crowed and leapt to the top of one of the beds.

  Liri giggled and mirrored his movements, taking one of the other top beds. Somehow, Siarra managed a warm smile as she accepted a bowl of stew from Mae. "OK children, you win." She flashed a grin at Taryn. "But I get the last one.”

  There was a warning glint in Siarra's eye that kept him from voicing what they had learned. For some reason, she didn't want the others to know about Jack. Although he didn't understand why, he trusted his sister enough to force a smile. "I don't mind the bottom."

  Mae downed the rest of her stew without a word and took the bunk underneath Trin. Distracted by her behavior, Taryn's thoughts turned to Mae. She'd always been taciturn, but in the last few days she'd spoken even less than normal. Not for the first time, he wished he knew more about her. Although he considered her one of his closest friends, she had never volunteered information about her time before Sri Rosen. The only thing he knew was that she'd come to the training island two years early, an oddity that had never been explained.

  He chewed on the vegetables in the stew, wondering if the reason he knew so little was because he'd never asked. Perhaps she'd opened up to Trin, or someone else. He'd wondered before if he was a poor friend, and this time he found himself believing it a little more. It was a thought that swirled in his mind for several minutes as other examples from his life surfaced to support it.

  "Taryn!" Liri called to him, and he spun to look at her. The look she flashed him made it obvious it wasn't the first time she'd said his name. "Are you done with your dinner yet?"

  With a start, he realized that everyone was in bed except for him. Feeling guilty, he moved away from the diminished fire and slipped into the bed below Liri. For a long time, he lay awake, unable to calm his mind. Draeken, Newhawk, Jack, Mae, and Liri bombarded him for attention in his thoughts. Each presented a puzzle that could not be solved within the solitude of his head, so none of the voices got any quieter.

  Growling under his breath, he rolled over and reached for his cloak, folded it, and stuck it under his head in an effor
t to get more comfortable. Instead, he smashed his cheekbone into something hard. Bruised and irritated, he unrolled his cloak and searched the pockets until he found a small package hidden in one of them. Unwrapping it, he found a glass orb and a note. A chill swept through him as he recognized the ball. Avoiding eye contact he stuffed it back into his cloak, leaving the piece of parchment free. Silently he moved closer to the fire to read it.

  Choose wisely.

  Siarra

  Taryn eased himself back to his bunk and stared at the fire. Siarra had left him a way to catch a glimpse of the war and his own future. Once again, the tremendous burden of so many lives settled down on him as Draeken pushed to the forefront of his thoughts.

  He threw a look at Liri's bunk, and felt a stab of fear. The thought of her losing her life was unbearable. The thought of her losing it because of him was excruciating. How could he know which choice would save her? Was he doomed to fail? He wanted to believe that there was a future where he could tell her how he felt, and that she would reciprocate those feelings, but couldn't bear the thought of voicing his heart—and then watch her be killed because of him.

  What if he told her and she felt the same?

  The thrill of excitement was short lived. He doubted she felt that way. Turning his mind back to the prophetic orb, he did his best not to think of Liri.

  He wrestled with the choice until after midnight, but made no progress towards a decision. The haunting thought was that by not making a choice, it was the same as choosing not to look.

  *****

  Rising before dawn the group was out the door within minutes, only delayed by Trin’s reluctance to rise. Finding their horses outside and packed with extra food for their journey; they mounted and began working their way to the road north. In every direction a bustle of activity revealed that Newhawk had convinced the council to join the elves. Druids and animals alike rushed past them carrying supplies to join a small row of wagons that had already formed.

  Nearing the edge of the village they paused to look back. Taryn knew that the gathering was necessary, but it still felt wrong to cause this. Families were abandoning their homes, and the city would be vacant within days. Would there be anything left for them to return to? Would there be anyone to return at all? The image of the druids marching to their death was too much to bear, and he turned his horse north. Within moments the forest enveloped them and the sounds of Keilera faded behind them.

  Taryn listened to Trin complain about the early hour but his thoughts dwelled on the prophetic orb. When they reached the road and turned north, the conversation lightened as Liri asked Siarra to explain more about magic.

  For the next several hours they plodded northward listening to the Oracle describe different types of magic and their properties. Grateful for the distraction, Taryn listened to her talk about energy.

  Around noon they stopped for lunch before pressing on. Just as they mounted, Jack appeared through the forest and without a word joined the group. If he noticed the curious glances in his direction, he gave no sign. For most of the afternoon Siarra continued to talk about magic as they followed the road north, occasionally crossing small streams until the vegetation began to thin. Cresting a small rise, they came in sight of a wide prairie. Aside from the high waving grass, a few outcroppings of rock and scattered trees could be seen shimmering red as the sun began to set.

  “The plains of Adbar,” Liri said, and pointed into the distance where the mountains reached their summits towards the heavens. “That's the Dwarven Mountains of Tyndrik. We should camp here for the night and cross the plains during the day. Lions and other dangerous animals hunt at night, and it will take most of the day to cross at this point.”

  “What do you mean by other animals?” Trin asked.

  Surprisingly Jack answered before Liri could. “These grasslands are home to several kinds of larger animals. Elephants, lions, rhinos, and many other beasts roam them, but the most dangerous is a great striped cat called a Tigron. They can be as big as fifteen feet long and as tall as you are, Trin—and are faster than the quickest stallion.”

  “How do you know about that?” Liri asked. “Very few people have seen a Tigron and lived, and they aren’t very well known.”

  Jack shrugged and lifted the sleeve of his right arm to reveal dual scars that ran all the way from his elbow to his shoulder. It looked like two huge fangs had bitten into his shoulder and torn downward.

  “When did that happen?” Liri gasped.

  “A long time ago,” Jack answered with a shrug.

  After a moment of silence, Taryn volunteered to collect some wood for a fire. Jack tethered his steed next to Taryn’s and started unpacking food for dinner, commenting that it was his turn to make the meal. Hiding his surprise, Taryn slipped into the forest to look for dry wood. Enjoying the solitude, he took his time until he found a dead tree and began to snap branches.

  When he returned, a small fire was already going, and the food above it made his mouth water. Adding his wood to the small pile that someone else had gathered, he sat down and accepted a plate from Jack.

  "What is it?" Taryn asked, reaching for a fork.

  "Grilled venison, spiced potatoes, and raspberry bread," Jack replied, his smirk unmistakable in his tone.

  "You should cook more often," Mae said, flashing a rare smile at him.

  Taryn had trouble getting his next words out, his mouth was so full. "You should take my turn. We all know I can't cook."

  "That's an understatement," Trin scoffed, taking another bite of the roll.

  Taryn joined their laughter. His lack of cooking ability was one of the weaknesses he'd come to accept.

  "Where did you get the recipe?" Liri asked, licking her lips.

  Jack paused before he answered, "My mother taught me to cook . . . before she died."

  Taryn exchanged a look with Siarra behind Jack's back, and almost missed Liri's next words.

  "I am sorry about your mother, but your cooking is divine. Is there any way we can convince you to cook every night?"

  A sly grin flashed on Jack's features. "If you buy the supplies, then I will take Taryn's turn."

  At first, Taryn couldn't understand why the thief had volunteered for the extra duty, but as he watched everyone readily agree to his proposal, he had to wonder if it was exactly as the thief had planned the conversation to go. As far as Taryn knew, Jack had never volunteered for any kind of work. Then he caught a glimpse of Jack dropping something into what he knew to be an empty pot. Within seconds he lifted it off the fire and asked, "Anyone want seconds?"

  Raising his plate like everyone else, he saw Siarra give him a loaded look as she mouthed 'magic'. Realizing the truth, Taryn suppressed a smile. Somehow, Jack was using magic to cook, which explained how he'd been able to prepare it so fast.

  And perhaps why it was so tasty.

  Chapter 9: A Father's Legacy

  Taryn rode through the plains of Adbar in advance of his friends, squinting to see through the waves of heat. Wary of danger, he kept his eyes on the swaying, waist high grass. Although there had been frequent signs of lions, nothing else had been spotted.

  Nearing the opposite side of the plains, Taryn began to breathe a little easier as the grasslands gave way to rockier terrain and scattered trees. An audible sigh of relief came from Trin as they rode into the first shade they’d had all day. Finally out of the sun, they eased themselves off their sweaty mounts and ate in the cool shadow of a great oak.

  After the meal, they continued their journey, veering east before the slope became too steep. They followed the base of a mountain range until it curved north into a depression between two towering peaks. Moving into the pass they followed the road higher and higher as it drove deeper into the range.

  Shaded by the peak to the west, the pass felt considerably cooler than the plains, and as sky darkened, Taryn donned his riding cloak. Despite the chill, he found himself enjoying the ride. Thick woods grew tall on either side of th
e narrow but well-maintained highway.

  Occasionally Taryn asked Siarra about their mother, or Liri about her home, but for the most part everyone kept to themselves. Taryn was about to ask more about the dwarves when the road straightened and a colossal wall came into view. Well over two hundred feet high, the battlements spanned the two peaks on either side. An enormous portcullis closed the opening in the ramparts and figures moved on the battlements.

  “Welcome to the dwarven kingdom,” Siarra exclaimed with a smile.

  “Land of the shortest, ugliest people in Lumineia,” Jack whispered from the back and Trin snickered.

  As they approached the fortifications, a rumble of thunder reverberated and the first drops of rain began to fall. Coming to a halt, a gravelly voice called down to them.

  “Who are you, and what business do you have here?”

  Siarra answered, her high voice echoing off the rocks around them. “I am the Oracle, Siarra Elseerian, come to speak to your king.”

  After a moment the guard called down, “The Oracle never leaves the eastern forest.”

  Before Siarra could reply Jack said, “This Oracle does!”

  She threw him a dark look and added, “There was an attempt on my life, forcing my departure.”

  At that comment the activity on top of the wall increased, and the large portcullis began to rise. Creaking in protest the iron barrier lifted high enough for them to pass under without dismounting. They entered the tunnel under the wall and rode for fifty feet before coming out on the other side, to be greeted by two armor clad dwarves.

  “I am sorry, Oracle, for our reluctance,” he growled. “But the mist of terror only recently departed, and many of our people are still wary.”

  She smiled warmly in response and dismounted to clasp the dwarf’s forearm. “I understand, but it is vital that we speak to your king—tonight if possible.”

  “I have already sent word to the king. He will be expecting you.” Then he hesitated for a moment. “Just you,” he added, his eyes flicking to the rest of their party.