The Chronicles of Lumineia: Book 02 - The Gathering

by Ben Hale

  Jack bumped into him and whispered, “You still have Siarra.”

  Taryn nodded, and grasped the lifeline with every shred of strength. He did have a sister, a good and faithful one. Even if he didn’t have any more family, she would be enough. Taryn swallowed down the rest of the negative emotions and forced a smile.

  “Thanks Faxon, for telling me about my father, and this sword,” he said as he sheathed the weapon.

  Faxon grinned. “I’m glad you could learn about your father, and that I had the privilege of seeing his work again.” He looked at his brothers and they nodded. “If you ever come by this way again, you will be welcome in clan Foehammer.”

  Taryn choked on the rising knot and accepted the generous invitation while helping Jack gather up their winnings. Although the previous levity returned among Jack and the dwarves, Taryn’s mind dwelled on the past as they said their goodbyes and followed Faxon to their quarters, with Fesrac carrying the unconscious Trin.

  Settling into a stone bed, he lay awake for a long time. When the girls returned to tell them the Dwarven king had been convinced, he pretended to be asleep. Even with his eyes closed the revelations about his father wouldn't rest, and he found himself craving more.

  He’d found more pieces to his heritage. Eventually he would find them all.

  Chapter 10: The Hawk and the Mind

  Braon rushed to finish breakfast and hurried out of the House of Runya. Word had come that the Druids had begun to arrive from the north, and Braon wanted to be there to greet them. Slipping through the early morning he turned towards the first set of ascending stairs. Taking them two at a time, the young man struggled to catch his breath as he pushed himself to the battlements that comprised the tenth and final tier of Azertorn. Just before he reached his destination, he ducked into a darkened recess behind two trees and gulped down air until his heart had slowed.

  Stepping out of the alcove, he strode around the corner and headed towards Keiko Ker’Isse, captain of the home guard. Standing slightly wider than the average elf, he still moved more like water than flesh and bone. As soon as Braon came into view, the captain’s gaze flicked to him and back to the slow-moving caravan.

  Braon gave Keiko a respectful nod and came to a halt at his side. “Captain,” he said. “I received your summons. What is the situation?”

  Keiko’s mouth twitched at Braon’s attitude, but he gestured at the line of wagons coming towards them. “The druids have begun to arrive, and my scouts say the line extends back into the forest for several miles. By my count there are roughly five thousand druids in this group. We don’t know if this is all of them or more are coming.”

  Braon accepted his report, “Has the Guidrian arrived?”

  The captain blinked in surprise at the young commander’s knowledge and shook his head. “No one in the caravan has stepped forward.”

  Braon smiled and said, “You should not be looking on the ground for the Guidrian, Captain. He will be in the skies.”

  Keiko smirked and Braon realized it had been a test. “How did you know?” the captain asked.

  “It’s my job to know what’s coming.”

  Without further explanation he leaned against the parapet and watched the group of men, animals, and wagons. In truth, he’d been spending time with the queen, laying preparations for the coming races, and had used the time to glean as much information as possible. She had told him about the druid Guidrian and his phoenix, a fact that few outside of the druid community knew.

  A sudden piercing cry echoed off the parapet walls, and elven guards reached for their weapons. Keiko frowned at one of his elves and the lieutenant leapt to calm the others.

  Braon nudged the captain and looked south. When he turned with a questioning look, the young man said, “He will come from the cliff side.”

  Keiko cast him a doubtful expression as he pointed towards the wagons, “But his men . . .”

  Braon flashed him a faint smile, but continued to gaze south.

  Keiko hesitated, and then turned his back to the wall. As Braon scanned the southern view, he hoped he was right. The queen had led him to believe that Newhawk was an exceptional leader, and very smart. If he was, then he would not miss the opportunity to approach even an ally from behind while their focus was to the front.

  He was not disappointed. Not ten seconds after Braon and Keiko turned around, a massive red bird burst into view from below the cliff. Screaming its challenge, the phoenix circled once before back-winging to land on the east end of the wall.

  Keiko chuckled beside him as Braon said, “Let’s go speak to Newhawk.”

  Braon threaded his way through stunned elven guards and arrived just as Newhawk had dismounted. Accepting a pat from its rider, the firebird launched itself into the sky and winged north in the direction of the druid caravan.

  Newhawk turned and spotted Braon and Keiko. Striding towards them, he reached out to clasp the captains' hand. While he greeted the druid leader, Braon took the moment to measure what he saw.

  Tall and broad shouldered, he towered over the elves. His black hair hung free to his shoulders, yet was streaked with a burnished red that matched his mount. A firmness lined his jaw, which invited respect, but not to the point of arrogance. Charisma burst from his handsome face and blue eyes like water from a spring.

  Beside him, Keiko directed the phoenix rider’s attention to Braon, introducing him as the commander. Newhawk’s eyes widened and he blinked as the two regarded each other.

  Braon broke the silence first. “Welcome, Newhawk, to the gathering. I am Braon, high commander of the defenses, placed in service by the Oracle.”

  The silence stretched between them as Newhawk studied the youth before him, but his expression bore no disbelief. Instead, he appeared less taken aback than Braon would have expected. There was more understanding in the druid's eyes then there should have been.

  “Command Braon,” Newhawk finally exclaimed. “I am at your service, and formally place my people within your command.”

  His posture and tone inspired shock in many of the elves around him, but the druid Guidrian took no notice. “My entire people are in the process of collecting resources for the coming engagement. I have brought a vanguard of six thousand to aid in our preparations for war. Another eleven thousand will arrive within a few days.”

  Braon managed to hide his surprise at the complete and total acceptance of his leadership. “Thank you for coming. Will you accompany me so we may speak privately?”

  Newhawk agreed and walked past wide-eyed elven guards to follow Braon down into the city. Without speaking, the young man guided him to the house of Runya and into the now-empty dining hall. Behind him, Newhawk looked up at the magical ceiling in wonder until Braon led the druid into a small room adjacent to the large chamber.

  Sitting down at a desk that had been prepared for him, Braon indicated the seat opposite him. As soon as he’d sat down, Braon asked, “What did the Oracle say to you?”

  Newhawk grinned. “What makes you think she said anything to me?”

  Braon flashed him a tight-lipped smile. “A leader of your level would not accept my leadership so easily without someone they trusted preparing them.”

  Newhawk grunted. “The Oracle was right. You are the right person for the job.” Then his grin faded and he sighed. “Do we really face what she showed me?”

  Braon gave a single nod and the Guidrian’s shoulders slumped. “How can we defeat so many?”

  “We cannot. But together we might survive long enough for Taryn and Siarra to destroy Draeken and end the war. When he is slain, his army will be drawn back to the realm where they were created.”

  “She told me that you were the only one capable of leading the defenses, and that you would have a place for me.” He paused. “What would you have me do?”

  The powerful druid leaders' stark humility demonstrated to Braon the last characteristic he had been hoping for. He almost grinned. The Oracle foresaw what I would need
, as always.

  “I need you to be my second in command,” Braon said.

  “What does that entail . . . exactly?”

  “I need you to be the face of our command, to be the figurehead that all the other races look to. You have every characteristic of a heroic commander, strong, charismatic, inspiring, and humble.” He paused and flashed him a wry smile. “The races will gladly accept your leadership, where many will have difficulty accepting mine. Together we might have a shred of hope.”

  “Do you think I can perform such a role?” Newhawk asked, looking away as he rubbed his fingers into his palms.

  “Your humility is the most vital thing I required in a second,” Braon responded. “If you lacked that, you would simply take command and—according to the Oracle—doom us all.”

  Newhawk took a deep breath and nodded. “I accept your appointment, now what do we do?”

  “First let me catch you up on several things. Follow me.”

  Standing, the young commander moved into the large empty room that had been the dining hall. “This used to be the grand dining hall of the house of Runya. As you can see, the walls and ceiling have been enchanted with a view from the top of the great tree. The view will give us an excellent vantage point during the battle. It is for that reason that I have chosen it to be our strategic command center. All the tree tables and chairs have been uprooted and moved elsewhere to give us space.”

  “Space for what?” Newhawk asked.

  “The elven magic guild is developing a map that will allow us to see the battlefield as a whole,” Braon answered. “I am told it will stretch across most of the room. Hopefully it will be detailed enough for us to see anything that is happening at any one time. My role will be to remain here, watching the battle, and directing defensive strategies. You will only need to be here when I am forced to rest. Most of the time I will need you out there, wherever the fighting is thickest, to bolster our army to push the enemy back.”

  “How are we forming the defenses?” Newhawk asked, his eyes peering at the enchanted walls.

  “If every race comes, we will have sufficient manpower to defend the entire length of the cliff, as well as the city and the Lake Road. I have broken the defense into seven battalions.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a sketched map of the cliff and city, with the mountains to the west, and the lake to the east. Pointing at each spot in turn he said, “Starting at the western range of mountains, The Gray has gray colored cliffs, The Deep has a large dip in the cliff that will be harder to defend, The Western Falls is the area adjacent to the city. Azertorn will be the fourth battalion and the center point. Then we have Eastern Falls running from the city to a crack in the cliff a few miles out.”

  “—I saw the break when I flew in,” Newhawk interrupted.

  “Excellent. East of the crack is the The Ridge, and the last command will be the Lake Road. Seven areas, meaning we need seven battalions and generals.”

  Newhawk was bobbing his head, his expression thoughtful. “Do we have any of the generals for them yet?”

  “We have one, Deiran, the commander of the elven armies. He will lead the defense of Azertorn.”

  Newhawk smiled and agreed. “He will know the city defenses best. It is a wise choice. What is your defensive strategy along the cliff and the road?”

  “A wall is already being constructed. I also hope that the dwarves will be able to build a few defensive siege engines that I have in mind. The goal will be to keep them from gaining ground on the top of the cliff." He pointed to the map and sighed. "Our weakest point is the Lake Road, which is a highway to surround us. It is not nearly as defensible as Azertorn, and had no fortifications as of a few days ago.”

  Newhawk shook his head, “Wait, shouldn’t the city be the weakest? I saw the doors at the end of the bridge. They will try to break through them first.”

  Braon smirked, “I will show you the real entrance later, for now, just know that those doors are backed by a stone column, and will never be broken down.” He grimaced and his expression turned serious. “What is more likely is that they will find the secret entrances. If that happens . . . it will only be a matter of time. The Oracle said the best we can hope to survive is seven days. I believe that if the gates to Azertorn are breached, the city will be lost in a few hours. We cannot allow them to break through before the seventh day.”

  “Agreed,” Newhawk said, and then cocked his head to the side. “What about the women and children?”

  Braon nodded and pointed to the back of the crude map. “Most of the women and older children will be placed behind the lines, tending wounds, providing meals, and even fighting if they are skilled. As few as possible will take care of the babes and small children in the caves behind Azertorn, the most secure place possible.”

  Newhawk grinned, “You have all this planned out, don’t you?”

  “Not completely,” Braon admitted. “But most of it. We still have holes in communication, as well as how to incorporate each race or nation as they arrive. Some of those challenges will have to be tackled as they occur, but communication remains our greatest challenge. We need a means to send messages back and forth across a twenty mile stretch—during the heat of battle.”

  Newhawk reached up and scratched his head. “I don’t see a solution to that problem, but I think I can help with adding the troops as they come. If you tell me where you want them, I will make it happen.”

  Relief colored Braon's tone, despite his effort to quell it. “Excellent. Many humans from the eastern kingdom have already been driven out and have been arriving over the past few days. They need to be formed into commands. I want you to break them into groups they trust and begin setting up camps in all six locations—but place the bulk of them at Eastern Falls. Start with The Deep, and the Lake Road. Those need the most work. Also assign a sergeant for every hundred men or so. If they already have a leader, then put him in charge—but don’t stick to the exact number. With our short time frame we need to use any existing command structure, not force one of our own. If you want to keep a large group together, place a lieutenant over five hundred men, and a captain over two thousand. Oh, and keep an eye out for anyone you think can be a colonel or a general.”

  Newhawk was grinning and when Braon stopped he asked, “Anything else?”

  Braon flashed a wry grin. “Of course, but you can get started on that for now.”

  The doors to the command center opened and an elven guard entered the room. Standing at attention, he said, “The druid caravan has arrived and Keiko requests instruction on where to place them.”

  Newhawk sighed. “That’s my cue.” Stepping towards the guard he stopped when Braon called out to address the guard.

  “Rokei, spread the word through the command that Newhawk is now a second high commander.” Then Braon inclined his head to his newly appointed second. “Good luck to you, Newhawk. Rokei will see to it that you have everything you need, but return tonight so we can discuss things in greater detail.”

  Newhawk bowed. “Commander Braon. Good luck to us all.”

  As the druid commander followed Rokei out, Braon looked at the enchanted ceiling above him and took a moment to watch the clouds drift past the city. When the phoenix flew overhead and cast a brief shadow over the room, he felt a rush of confidence. He’d found a crucial piece that he needed. There was still a long way to go, but at least now the actual joining of the races would go smoother. Sparing one more glance skyward he sighed and left to check on his other projects.

  Things are finally moving, he thought as he left his empty command center. But are they moving fast enough?

  Chapter 11: Everyone Has a Purpose

  Braon sank into a chair for dinner at the house of Runya, pleased and frustrated at the same time. Lost in thought, he began eating the soup that was served him. Newhawk was a godsend, and under his leadership every person that had previously arrived had been organized. His natural leadership drew people to him as if by magic, a
nd the human people of the eastern kingdom already loved him. Fading into the background, Braon pulled strings and maneuvered his forces into place.

  Most things had come together well except for two: the magical map still hadn’t been created, although the roots from the recipient plants were growing well; and the means of communication still eluded him. Every possible method had been discussed and deliberated, but no good solution had presented itself. Braon frowned. He hated to choose between bad options. He glanced skyward at the stone ceiling of the temporary dining hall. If only Ero would provide a way—

  “Are you going to eat your soup, or just look at the ceiling?” a child’s voice said, and Braon turned to look at him.

  A small brown-haired boy straddled the bench beside him and met his gaze without flinching. Probably one of the refugees that had temporarily been housed in the House of Runya, he was one of many that had arrived before a place could be prepared for them. His clothes looked to be a size too big, so he would have at least one older brother. Hand stitched, they showed the care of a mother. Glancing down, he saw a stain on the side of his tunic. The boy of a fisherman then, well practiced in gutting fish and wiping his hand on the side of his tunic—a fact his mother probably didn’t appreciate.

  Braon smiled at the bold youth. “I was just thinking. What about you?”

  The boy grinned, a lighthearted expression that accompanied a mischievous glint. “I already ate my dinner, faster than anyone in my family.” His pride at the feat made Braon laugh.

  “What’s your name, and where are you from?”

  “I’m Daq,” he said, poking a thumb into his chest. “And I’m from a village south of Keese.”

  “Where is your fisherman father? Or your mother?” Braon asked, surprised that someone from the southern kingdom had already come.