The Chronicles of Lumineia: Book 02 - The Gathering

by Ben Hale

  Pleased by the phoenix's confidence in him, Braon bowed and filed away the knowledge that the bird could mind link to others for future thought. “Thank you Reiquen. You are most kind.”

  In response, the massive bird bent down so Braon could mount. Smiling,

  Braon looked back to Thacker and Rokei. “I will be back within a couple of hours. Thacker, go get some rest. Tomorrow promises to be another long day. Seath will be my Link for now.”

  With that he stepped forward and with the aid of Newhawk’s outstretched arm, climbed to a seat between Newhawk and Seath. Spreading his wings, Reiquen launched them into the air. As they rose skyward in the calm night, he felt warmed by his seat on the giant phoenix.

  Impulsively he thought, Reiquen, if you could always hear me, why did you choose to speak to me?

  After a moment where Braon almost doubted he'd heard him, the same deep voice echoed in his mind, I heard the Oracle explain to Newhawk about you, but I had my doubts. After seeing your plans for the defense of so many, and your devotion and ability to bring people together, I began to realize the Oracle had been right. This is your destiny, young one, even though few would have thought of you for the role.

  Braon swallowed against the sudden surge of emotion and heard Newhawk’s low chuckle. Realizing the druid had heard he asked aloud, “Can Reiquen hear every thought of those around him?”

  “Some mages make it more difficult for him by trying to seal their mind,” he patted the wide neck in front of him. “But Reiquen doesn’t have much of a problem with that.” He turned to look at the young commander, “I’m actually surprised he is speaking to you so much. I’ve never seen him do that with anyone.”

  “He’s never spoken to me,” Seath said in his ear, and by his tone Braon could tell he was smiling.

  I speak to those I trust, Reiquen said, and even in Braon’s mind he could tell the phoenix was amused. I almost trust a few of the telepaths, but only because the commander has trained them to merit loyalty.

  Braon smothered a laugh, but in the back of his mind several questions popped unbidden into the forefront of his thoughts. What have I done during their training to make them more trustworthy? And why does he trust me? Last of all, the strategic part of his mind whispered, How can I use this to improve our fighting?

  A knowing chuckle from the phoenix reverberated through his head as they flew west and Braon realized that the bird knew what he would ask.

  During the battle, can you mind link to Thacker so I can communicate with Newhawk? Braon mentally asked.

  Is that an order, Commander? the bird replied, his mental voice tinged with both amusement and something else that Braon couldn’t identify.

  After a moment’s thought Braon replied, No Reiquen, it is a request. I do not believe that I have the authority to order you to do anything.

  The bird underneath them rumbled and Braon heard deep laughter at the same time that Newhawk leaned forward and asked if he was all right. Apparently Reiquen had kept that part of their conversation private.

  It took several minutes before the firebird replied to his question. When he did, it was better than he could have hoped. We’ll see, Commander. Before he could reply he felt a separation as Reiquen withdrew the link and he knew his mind was his once more.

  For the next couple of hours Braon flew with Newhawk above the growing walls and partially constructed defenses. Even though he paid close attention to his second in command’s report, a small portion of his mind continued to ponder the sudden revelations about Reiquen. The idea of easy communication between them was appealing, and would give him a Link that he could place somewhere else.

  He felt like the keystone of an arch had just fallen into place.

  Chapter 20: Azüre

  Braon looked at the Azüre king, Emeka, but did not allow any of the apprehension that he felt to show on his face. Emeka had arrived moments ago in advance of a fleet of ships carrying his people, a fleet he’d proclaimed he’d gathered by fighting every other tribe leader to the death—right before he’d challenged Braon for the right to leadership.

  Tall, ebony, and muscular, King Emeka appeared as a model of the Azüre people. Shirtless, he wore a leopard skin around his waist that hung to his knees. Thick white fur banded his ankles, and gold bands wrapped his wrists. For weapons he carried a long spear and a thin, oval shield made of wood and leather.

  Resisting the urge not to flinch at the fierce grin, Braon mulled over the challenge amidst loud protests from several voices in the command center. In a calm voice he did not feel, he said, “As I understand the terms of a challenge, the one challenged has the right to choose the contest.”

  The proud warrior king’s lip curled into a sneer. “So the fat boy has some knowledge of our people.”

  Several voices began shouting but Braon raised a hand and waited for his worried friends to calm down. To him, the two of them were the only ones that existed, and he considered his options carefully. He could decline, and risk losing the confidence of all of the warriors in his command, or accept and somehow defeat one who had bested far better than him. Unfortunately it seemed there was only one option. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Newhawk twitch, and his worried expression gave him an idea.

  Smiling he answered, “I accept, Chief Emeka.”

  Several people gasped and he heard a few men mutter about insanity, but he ignored them. Out of the corner of his eye he also saw a few satisfied expressions from individuals he knew doubted his leadership. Among them the arch-mage's eyes glittered with anticipation.

  “What weapons shall we fight with?” the king asked, his confidence bordering on belligerence.

  Braon pointed at his head. “We will fight with our minds.” He heard a few chuckles in response to his choice. For the first time the king’s smile faltered, and he glanced at his guards in confusion.

  “Do you wish to withdraw your challenge?” Braon asked, struggling to keep the hope from his voice.

  The king growled, “What are the terms, boy, so I may destroy you and take your men.”

  “Simple,” Braon stated. “There is a pool of water at the base of the great tree called Mirror’s Edge. The first to fill their flask and return it to this room will be the victor.”

  The king’s brow furrowed as he fought to understand, and then asked, “The rules?”

  Braon allowed a small smile. “None.”

  Emeka smirked, and Braon could already imagine the king waiting somewhere to strike him down. With eyes now eager he asked, “When do we begin?”

  Without hesitation Braon reached for two water skins nearby and tossed one to the king. “Immediately.”

  Emeka’e eyes widened, and then he whirled and sprinted from the room while Braon remained still. Ignoring the babble of confused voices he turned to Newhawk. “Mind if I catch a ride?” he asked, and the druid started to laugh even as he began running towards the stairs. Braon jumped to follow him and tried to keep up with the druid’s long legs. In moments they reached the garden roof and together they leapt onto Reiquen’s back. In a rush of wind the great bird dropped from the roof and spread his great fiery wings.

  Gliding down to the bowl of Azertorn, they reached the pond in seconds. Braon slid from the warm ride to the edge of the large pool. Crouching, he hurried to fill his flask and cursed when he almost dropped it in his haste. Finishing, he remounted the giant bird. Just as they sprang into the sky he saw the ebony king enter the gardens, a look of dismay on his face as he caught sight of Braon.

  Newhawk chuckled in front of him. “Don’t you think this is cheating?” he asked.

  “I told him there were no rules,” Braon said, careful to keep both his pounding heart and his pride out of his voice.

  From inside his head he heard Reiquen join in the druid's laughter that didn’t end until they had returned to the House of Runya. Dropping from the phoenix's back he paused only to express his gratitude to Reiquen before they disappeared inside. Hurrying as fast as he c
ould, he raced back to the command center. Just before he entered, he slowed to a fast walk and turned the corner. Entering to cheers from his friends—and to his surprise the king's guards—he returned to his previous position and spun to face the doors.

  It took another full minute before Emeka entered the room again, to be greeted by a hushed silence. Embarrassed and angry, he growled, “That was not right! I demand a second challenge!”

  Braon shook his head and didn’t let a shred of condescension leak onto his face. “According to your laws, you and all your men now belong to me, and a second challenge cannot be issued for a full year.”

  Emeka glowered and had to swallow hard, but lost control and shouted, “But you cheated!”

  “Name the rule that I broke and you may claim victory,” Braon said, his chin rising in challenge.

  Emeka opened his mouth to speak, but grunted instead. From behind him a thin figure separated itself from the other dark-skinned guards. Stepping to the king’s side, the beautiful ebony woman said, “I am Adaeze, and on behalf of my father we accept your leadership.”

  Braon inclined his head to the woman’s controlled response. “Welcome to the gathering, King of the Azüre people. I am glad you received our message, and even more grateful that Chief Emeka had the ability to gather the tribes—a truly legendary feat."

  Again Braon gave a respectful nod to Emeka and held his gaze until the king reluctantly inclined his head. Straightening, Braon asked, “How many do you bring?”

  Adaeze answered, “Over sixty-five thousand warriors.”

  “And women and children?” Braon pressed.

  “Another hundred thousand women, elderly, and children,” Adaeze answered.

  “Who do not fight,” Emeka added, his voice resentful.

  “They will,” Braon exclaimed. Then he took a step forward and addressed Emeka, “Great King, I ask that you command one of our seven battalions, as one of my generals.”

  Bewildered, the king blurted, “But defeat means banishment or execution.”

  Braon gave a sad smile and shook his head. “You fought other chiefs, gathered thousands of people, united many tribes to bring them here, and all because you believed the messenger we sent you.”

  Emeka shrugged in bewilderment, but Braon continued in a quiet voice that pierced the room. “We need you, Chief Emeka, to lead your united people into battle. Our lives will rest on your shoulders, and our trust will rest in your men and women as they help us defend ourselves.” Then he raised his voice to ring into the large chamber, “You have a divine destiny, great Chief, as do the rest of us. You will lead your people into battle, and I will guide you to that victory as you fight alongside the other races.”

  His voice echoed around the room and Emeka straightened in response. “For me and my people, I accept your command.”

  Braon didn't like the glint in the king's eye, but politically he was already committed. He turned to Thacker. “Have Jake and his guards meet general Emeka and his chosen chiefs at The Ridge.” Then he looked at Newhawk and said, “Join them there and explain his Link, and instruct him on our defenses and strategy. Make sure he begins training appropriately.”

  Newhawk nodded and moved to speak to Thacker. As Emeka turned to leave, Braon stepped forward and raised his hand. “General Emeka, it was a pleasure to meet you.”

  The chief hesitated, then threw out a bark of laughter and took the offered forearm. “Next time, I will know better than to let you choose the terms.”

  Braon smiled, but didn't miss the implied threat of the statement. He then clasped hands with Adaeze, who unlike her father, seemed at ease as she looked down on his small form. “I believe you will guide us to victory, young Commander.” She said with a light exotic accent. “For all our sakes, I hope you do.” Without waiting for a response she turned and followed her father and his guards out of the room.

  Braon didn’t move until they had exited, and then let out an explosive breath. Ignoring the comments that burst out, he turned and entered his office. Closing the door behind him, he poured himself a glass of water. Draining it, he wiped the sheen of moisture from his forehead. He was ashamed to notice that his hands were shaking, so he clenched them into tight balls.

  After several deep breaths he managed to calm himself enough to answer the knock on the door. Opening it he saw Rokei and Thacker both standing outside with concerned expressions.

  “Are you OK, sir?” the elf asked.

  Braon forced a smile and replied, “I’m fine, but it’s about lunch time. Do you mind having a meal brought up here? I have a few plans to look at while I eat. Then I can address the next concerns after.”

  They appeared uncertain, but turned away as he'd ordered. Before Braon could close the door again Newhawk stepped into view and asked for direction on several topics. Unable to send him away without answers, he allowed him into his office. Once they were alone Newhawk broke into a laugh.

  “I would have expected nothing less from you, Braon, but it still came as a surprise.” Newhawk said.

  Braon sighed and said, “I did what had to be done. Now can we focus on what you asked?”

  Newhawk snorted. “That was just to get me in here. All those problems I solved earlier today, but I do have a more serious question.”

  Braon couldn’t decide whether to be angry at the manipulative tactic—and the fact that he’d missed it—or grateful for his second’s concern. Settling on gratitude, he asked, “What is your question?”

  Newhawk leaned forward, and his serious expression forced Braon to pay attention. “With such a large army coming towards us, I believe the battle won’t be like a normal battle.” Braon guessed where he was headed, but gave him a nod to allow him to finish. “This won’t be a conflict where they attack during the day and stop for the night . . . will it.”

  “I don’t think so," Braon replied. "It is far more likely that the assault will be continuous. From what I have read, they will not retreat—or stop—for any reason.”

  Newhawk sank into a chair and massaged his neck. “How can we possibly fight all day and night? Sheer exhaustion will overtake us long before we reach the seventh day.”

  Braon grinned and pointed to the parchment in front of him. “That is why we won’t fight in a traditional manner either.” Standing, he went to the model of the cliff that had recently been updated. Pointing at the Eastern Falls battalion, he said, “A single battalion will be broken into three divisions, the front, the reserves, and the secondary reserves. Every eight hours they will rotate forward. The secondary reserve will become the reserve, and the reserve will move to the front line against the cliff. Then the front will move to the rear to become the secondary reserve. Understand so far?”

  Newhawk appeared puzzled, but he cave a curt nod, so Braon continued, “Every person at the front lines will be fighting every second during their shift and should be more than ready to rest when it ends. While in the secondary reserve position, every soldier will sleep for eight hours before moving forward to first reserves. The first reserves will be called on whenever the front lines are hard pressed, or if a breach occurs.”

  “It’s brilliant," Newhawk said, "but we can’t just make men stay up all night and sleep during the day during the battle, we have to start training them early.”

  “That is why you will change their training schedule starting tomorrow morning,” Braon said, withdrawing the orders he'd drawn up days ago. “I wanted to wait until I had at least four of my generals in place, and now that Emeka is here, we do. Use your Link to summon all four to a meeting tomorrow morning. Summon the interim generals as well. Explain what they need to do and tell them to begin this rotation at once."

  "It is vital that each time a division rotates to the front, they need to be in constant training for their entire shift. We need to build up their endurance, especially for the weaker races, such as the elves. Also, have the first reserve work on fortifications, fashioning weapons, or other work assignments.”r />
  “What about the dwarves?” Newhawk asked.

  “There is no exception to the rotation, but any dwarf that has the stamina to work during their sleep time may work on their assigned task. No other race is to be allowed that opportunity. In addition, you may exempt the dwarves from sparring or practicing during their battle shift unless they choose to do so. Otherwise have General Onix continue their work on the walls and other battlements. We both know that few dwarves are not trained in battle.”

  Newhawk reached for a clean piece of parchment and scribbled down some notes, and then handed the piece of paper to Braon for review. As Braon read the additional orders, he checked to make sure they reflected the rotations and then signed the bottom. Handing the orders back to his second he added, “One more thing. Make sure the generals follow the same schedule, although they won’t rotate and should remain at the rear of the front lines. It’s important they each select a lieutenant general that will lead the defenses while they sleep. Ensure they pick well, and not for purely political reasons. The lieutenant general will replace them if they are killed.”

  “I understand commander, and will fulfill your orders with exactness.” Newhawk said. Then his face split into a grin. “And excellent job handling Emeka.”

  Braon allowed a tight smile, but before he could return to the work on his desk, Newhawk added, “You should know that word has leaked that you are in charge, not me.” He began walking towards the door and added, “At first many were angry or afraid, but anyone who has met you—such as your generals—has stood by you. They are beginning to trust you, Commander.”

  Braon leaned back and replayed the words that Newhawk had said as he left the room, but it did not have the desired effect that his second had wished. Rather than make him feel buoyed, he felt more pressure. More and more lives were depending on him. Mothers were placing their faith in his ability to succeed; fathers were trusting that he would save their families. Brothers and sisters depended on him to save their loved ones. With his stomach in knots he prayed with all his soul that he would not fail them . . . or himself.