The Chronicles of Lumineia: Book 02 - The Gathering

by Ben Hale

  Daq’s eyes saddened and he said, “My mother’s dead. Some pirates came and hurt her before they took my family.”

  Braon’s heart turned into a knot, but the distortion in his voice seemed out of place. For some reason, Daq thought it was his fault that it had happened.

  “It’s not your fault, Daq,” Braon said. “Sometimes bad things happen to good people.”

  Daq shook his head. “Uh-uh, the pirates came because I told someone about—” He stopped and slapped a hand to his mouth. Through his hands, he said, “I’m not supposed to talk about that.”

  “It’s OK.” Braon said, sensing he needed to talk but wouldn’t on his own. “I lost my family, too, in the eastern kingdom. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” Turning back towards his cooling soup, he waited for the boy to respond.

  For a moment Daq kept his hands over his mouth, then they dropped and he blurted, “I told someone about our mind link.”

  Braon froze, his mind spinning for a moment before the pieces came together. Trin had mentioned they’d rescued a family from pirates, a family that was special but he didn’t say why. Later he’d also heard a comment from one of the sailors of the Sea Dancer about pirates being unified under one leader. Then the captain had said how sad he was they’d used an innocent family to do their dirty work.

  A telepathic family?

  Hiding his excitement with difficulty, Braon turned to the young boy and placed a hand on his shoulder. “It will be our secret, Daq.” Then he steered the topic to other things and waited for him to be called by his father.

  Just as Braon was finishing his soup, someone called out, “Daq, we need to get back.” Braon caught the suspicion in his tone that referred to him, but Daq didn’t seem to notice it.

  “Can I talk to my new friend a little longer? Please?” Daq pleaded, but the man shook his head.

  “Come along now,” he said and Daq, pouting, stood and said goodbye before he plodded towards his father, who cast Braon a wary glance before turning down a hall. As soon as he was out of sight, Braon leapt to his feet and raced to Rokei.

  “Follow the boy I was talking to—and his father. Find out which rooms they are staying in and then bring the father to me. I will meet you in the old hall.

  Rokei nodded and slipped from the room. Braon felt a chill go down his spine as he turned towards his command center. This is exactly what I needed, he thought, but I must tread carefully. Arriving in a rush, he fidgeted with his maps and waited for the father to be brought to him.

  A few minutes later, Rokei appeared holding the arm of a very frustrated man. Braon nodded and the guard ushered him into the room and closed the door behind them. Rokei remained at the man's side.

  “What is the meaning of this?” the man blustered.

  “I know you are worried about what your son might have said to me,” Braon said, cutting through the man’s frustration and going right for the heart of his worry. For a moment, true fear swept across his face before he controlled his emotions.

  “Who are you and what do you want?” the man asked, his voice like granite.

  “I admit that I know your secret, and about your servitude among the pirates.”

  The man’s eyes went wide and he stuttered, “How do you . . .”

  “Relax,” Braon said with what he hoped was a disarming smile. “I will not force you to do anything, and after you have heard what I have to say, you will be free to go. No word about your family’s abilities will escape my lips, and you may forget you ever spoke to me.”

  Braon’s honest tone seemed to pierce the man’s mounting tension, and he asked, “Who are you?”

  “My name is Braon, and I was placed in charge of the defenses by the Oracle.”

  “—but I thought that Newhawk—”

  “Is the commander to everyone else, but he answers to me.”

  The man shook his head and snorted. Then he threw a look at Rokei. “Is he serious?”

  “He is the high commander," Rokei said, "and if you had seen half the things he has planned you would trust him.”

  Surprised by the support, Braon inclined his head to the guard, and then looked back to the fisherman. “Now, what is your name?”

  “Er . . . Thacker.”

  “Well, Thacker, why don’t you allow me to explain,” Braon said, and gestured towards the pile of maps on his desk.

  Thacker hesitated, but then followed Braon into his office. With a sweep of his hand Braon indicated for him to sit but remained standing to push a large map of the Giant’s Shelf towards Thacker.

  “Do you know what is coming?” Braon asked.

  “I know an army is coming to destroy us, and that it is what made everyone afraid.”

  Braon nodded, “Close. The army that is coming is not of our world, and has been created for the express purpose of destroying all life. Because of this, we are in the process of gathering all the races of Lumineia to defend ourselves while Taryn—you remember him—goes to defeat this evil.”

  “Taryn?” Thacker asked in astonishment. “He helped rescue my family."

  “I know, and it is his calling to defeat Draeken. I believe it is your calling to help here, in a way that is just as vital as Taryn’s.”

  “But what can I do?” Thacker said, shaking his head.

  “Not you, specifically, but your family,” Braon said and pointed at the map. “Our greatest challenge in the coming conflict is a means to communicate between the field and here, for orders to be given and received quickly. The issue is distance. Twenty miles of cliff, the city, and the Lake Road are too much for a single commander to see and respond effectively. I have broken the areas into several commands to simplify it, but I need a way to talk to my men, to unify them during the battle.”

  Thacker leaned back and took a deep breath, understanding lighting his eyes. “You want my family to be the means of communication."

  “Yes,” Braon said. “We cannot survive without it.”

  Thacker took several moments as he chewed on the thought and examined Braon.

  Guessing his next question, Braon said, “I am fifteen.”

  Thacker smirked and shook his head, blowing out his breath. “I can’t believe I am going to say this, but I think we will do it. My wife always felt . . . that there was a reason for our link, and it appears this would be it.” Several emotions washed over his face before he settled on determination. “What do you need from us?”

  “How soon can you gather your children?”

  Thacker considered for a moment, and then answered, “My oldest son and daughter, Seath and Brynn are out in the city, the rest should be in our room.” Then he pursed his lips and said, “On second thought, three of my sons are no doubt wandering the halls by now, getting into trouble.”

  “Just how many children do you have Thacker?” Braon exclaimed, burying his hope in mock exasperation.

  Thacker laughed. “My wife wanted a big family, so I have seven children, two daughters and five sons.”

  Braon smiled, using all his will to hide the triumph that had blossomed in his chest. “Gather them and meet me here. We have much to do, and little time to do it.”

  “I’ll be back in an hour," Thacker said, rising to his feet to clasp Braon's hand.

  The moment the telepathic fisherman had left the room Braon resisted the urge to shout. Ideas and possibilities reverberated around his head of their own volition, plans morphed to adapt to the new potential. For the first time since he’d understood the extent of the calamity they faced, he felt hope pierce the shadow of fate.

  We might be able to survive, he thought.

  An hour later Thacker returned with the rest of his family and Braon had his emotions well in control. Entering the room, Thacker lined his children up and began to introduce them, but Braon raised a hand.

  “Let’s start with your oldest and go slower, I have a few questions for each of them,” Braon said, and Thacker nodded.

  “This is Seath, m
y oldest,” Thacker said, and a tall sandy-haired youth stepped forward to clasp Braon’s forearm.

  “Nice to meet you sir,” Seath said, and Braon allowed a small smile.

  “Seath, how old are you?” Braon asked.

  “Seventeen sir, almost eighteen,” the young man responded, straitening to his full height. His expression demonstrated respect and willingness to serve.

  Braon nodded and moved to the next in line. Before Thacker could say anything, the young, brown-haired woman stepped forward and took his offered hand. “Brynn, Commander, and I am fifteen if you were going to ask.” Several of the younger boys snickered at her use of his title but Thacker quelled that with a look.

  Braon smiled at her. “I was going to ask, so thank you.”

  Her lips twitched and her dark eyes sparkled at his response as she took a step back. He was surprised by the stirring he felt for the fiery young lady, but he dismissed it and moved to the next young woman.

  Shorter than her sister, she looked at the floor instead of at him, and waited until her father spoke her name.

  “Kitu,” he said.

  “But everyone calls her Kit,” Brynn added, with a fond smile at her younger sister.

  “Is that true?” Braon asked, and she met his gaze with bright blue eyes. Immediately she looked away and brushed her blond hair to hide her face.

  “She just turned fourteen,” Brynn said, and Thacker pursed his lips in disapproval.

  “Let her answer, Brynn,” he said and she sighed.

  “Fine,” Brynn exclaimed. “But she doesn’t like talking to strangers.”

  “I’m OK,” Kit squeaked in a small voice.

  Braon held up a hand to forestall anything further and moved to the two boys next to their sister. Obviously twins, they looked identical, right down to their matching smirks.

  “Jason—” The first one began—

  “—and Jake.”

  “We’re twins!” they said together and someone giggled.

  “I can see that,” Braon said in amusement. “How old are you?”

  “Twelve,” they said in unison, and then laughed at each other.

  Braon grinned at them. They were the type to cause problems, and would need extra discipline to make sure they did what was required. Moving to the next in line he found a pudgy youth that was trying to stand taller.

  “Grian, sir. Ready and willing for orders,” he exclaimed, but his comments elicited smothered laughter from the twins and a snide comment about him being the good one.

  Braon nodded at the overweight lad, “How old are you?”

  “Ten sir, but everyone says I act like I am older,” he said, his lips tightening at his brothers’ words. Braon threw Seath a glance and saw the oldest brother flash Grian an encouraging smile. So, Braon thought, Seath and Grian are the responsible ones, and get along well.

  Stepping to the final youth, he came to a familiar face.

  Daq, the little brown-haired boy from dinner, practically danced on his feet as he waited for his turn.

  “Hello again, Daq,” Braon said with a grin, and the boy exploded with words.

  “Are we really going to fight the bad things? I want to fight 'em, and I can too. Everyone says I’m strong for my age and—”

  Braon laughed and said, “How old are you, Daq?”

  He bounced forward and most of his family laughed. “I’m eight. Can I have a sword? Or an axe?” The boy’s eyes lit up at the idea of weapons and Braon crouched down.

  “I will see what I can do,” he whispered, winking. “But don’t tell your father." Daq nodded and bit his lip before resuming his place in line.

  His mind whirring, Braon stood and moved to face the family. Mentally he ticked them off in his head.

  Seath, responsible and strong, he could be placed anywhere.

  Brynn, strong-willed and beautiful, will rise to any challenge he put before her.

  Kit, shy and reserved, might require training or she won’t have the courage to issue orders on his behalf.

  The twins, Jason and Jake were rambunctious to a fault, and would need the most work and discipline.

  Grian, young yet mature, was more like Seath than any of his family and would also do well.

  Daq, young and boisterous, would be difficult to handle, but was still vital.

  Braon eyed them, his expression serious. “Do you know why I have asked that you come?”

  Brynn answered first, beating the twins by half a second. “To use our mind-link to help in the war.” She glanced at Thacker after her blunt response. “Father told us you needed us.”

  “I do." Braon couldn't stop the grin. "I need your help to talk with my generals, but there are a few things you should know first. One, this will be hard work, and you will get little rest. You will need to be trained to respond to orders in an instant, and to transfer information accurately and quickly. You will need to learn a great deal about our army, and help us organize the preparations. Last, you will aid our efforts during the battle. ”

  Several of them were nodding, including Thacker, but Braon raised a hand in warning. “That’s not all. Because of your vital role, I will do everything I can to protect you, but you will be targeted by the enemy—if they realize what you are doing. What I am asking you to do is very dangerous.”

  Most of the young men (and Brynn) appeared even more excited by the prospect of danger, but Thacker and Seath both glanced nervously at each other and the smaller children.

  “Thacker,” Braon exclaimed, drawing his attention back to him. “I swear I will do everything possible to protect your family.”

  The man took a deep breath and then looked at his children. “Do you want to do this?”

  Some agreed eagerly, others hesitated before nodding their assent, and finally Kit bobbed her head last of all.

  “When do we begin?” Thacker sighed.

  “Immediately,” Braon said. “We are already behind schedule.”

  Chapter 12: A King's Choice

  Gaze sighted down the torch-lit range and hefted the long spear to find its balance. Finding a comfortable grip, he swept his arm forward to launch the weapon towards a target. Flying true, it embedded a hands breadth from the center—but not close enough to best the prince.

  He growled and tossed his head while Anders laughed.

  “Hah! I knew I could do it better,” the prince exclaimed and beckoned with his hand. “The wager was five silver if I remember right . . .?”

  Gaze grunted and reached into his pocket, still irritated that he’d been beaten—again. They had been at it for over an hour now, and Gaze seemed to be on a losing streak.

  Many women thought of Gaze, with his dark blue eyes, black hair, and sharp goatee, as handsome for a human, but he’d never been good with the ladies—unlike Prince Anders, who always seemed at ease around the host of women vying for his attention. Stronger and more athletic than Gaze, Prince Anders was easygoing with a quick wit and a constant smirk that gave the prince a boyish look, elevating his appeal. Being the crown prince of Talinor may have been a factor as well.

  In many aspects, Anders was the superior—except for one. Gaze possessed an exceptionally rare type of magic . . . lightning. In his youth, many had laughed at the dark-haired boy who said he could see energy in the clouds—until he’d accidently caused a fire with a lightning bolt. Their neighbors’ resulting fear had driven his family to sell their small farm and look for a new home. With no school at which to study his magic, his parents had forbidden him to reveal it. Despite their efforts, they had been forced to move repeatedly to get away from the incident, and few after knew his secret.

  Prince Anders was one of those few. Several years ago Gaze had happened to come upon a large group of bandits attacking the prince. All of his guards had been killed and the prince was wounded when Gaze had leapt to his aid. They would have been killed if he hadn’t drawn on his magic. A single bolt had been sufficient to scatter the thieves, and Gaze and Anders had been close
ever since. After Gaze lost his parents to the plague, the royal family had welcomed him into their home.

  “You want to try again?” Anders said, clinking the bulging sack in an attempt to entice Gaze. “I’ll double the wager.”

  Gaze sighed and shook his head ruefully. “I think I am out of coin, my friend.”

  Anders pretended to pout for a moment before shrugging. “So what do you want to do?” His eyes glinted. “Do you want to practice some more?”

  Gaze laughed out loud and sat down at the table across from the prince. “You know I can’t practice in public, and besides, I don’t know why we do it anyway. Last time we were almost killed because of you.” He stabbed a finger at the prince who appeared wounded at the accusation.

  “Me? I didn’t do anything—except get you to call down as much lightning as you could.” He flashed a wide grin. “You sure lit that field up though, and it did prove my point. You are stronger than you think. By Skorn, you could light a five mile stretch if you wanted to.”

  “—If I wanted to, but when would I ever need to?”

  The prince rolled his eyes and frowned at him. "Isn't it enough to know you could?"

  Despite his efforts to quell it, a smile spread across Gaze’s features at the memory of so much power. "Perhaps," he allowed.

  The prince burst out laughing and the two friends smashed their mugs together before draining them.

  “Come on then,” the prince said, rising to his feet. “Let’s go . . .”

  —A cry of alarm burst from the front gate, causing both of them to rush to it. They arrived just as the portcullis opened, revealing an exhausted and disheveled rider entering the courtyard. Anders leapt to catch him as he slumped from his quivering mount.

  “An elf!” Anders exclaimed in surprise and called for water.

  The elf’s eyes fluttered and he managed to speak, his voice raspy with fatigue. “The king, I need . . . to see the king . . .”

  Gaze locked eyes with the prince and realized they were thinking the same thing. What would cause a messenger to drive himself so hard?

  Anders called guards to carry the elf to the king and to care for the horse, which appeared on the verge of collapse. Gaze stood rooted to the spot until Anders tilted his head towards him, inviting him to come. Grateful to be included, he hurried to follow as they wound their way into the castle. Moving through corridors and climbing stairs lit by torches, they reached a small door that led to the king’s study. The prince entered without knocking, and ushered the guards in behind him. When Gaze stepped into the small library, he slid off to the side to better observe what happened.