The Chronicles of Lumineia: Book 02 - The Gathering

by Ben Hale

  They heard the sounds of construction before they came into view, but once they crested the edge of the cliff, the sight took Braon’s breath away. It had been some time since he had been able to see firsthand the changes in the army. With Newhawk as his feet, it had allowed him to work more efficiently, planning and preparing without seeing—but it couldn't replace witnessing his plans unfold with his own eyes.

  Spreading away from the cliff’s edge, hundreds of thousands of people moved about their daily business, preparing for war. Dwarves and men lined the cliff, building and fortifying the wall that Braon had described. Within the vast host he managed to pick out several distinct races performing their assigned tasks. He was pleased to note that the command on the front line was training, and the second reserve was hard at work constructing the fortifications. For miles back, and as far as he could see to either side, the army that had massed could only be described as stunning, but Braon felt a stab of fear as he recalled how large the enemy was going to be.

  Someone waved to him, and he glanced down to see the men working with the large ballistae and pendulum that he had described weeks ago. At some point someone had nicknamed the device a sweeper machine because it would brush the enemy off the cliff.

  Seeing his idea come to life took his breath away as a sweeper team launched a spiked ball horizontally. Inches from the cliff wall, the ball sailed sideways and trailed a heavy barbed chain. Then it reached the end with a snap of metal and began to fall. Accelerating downward it swung in an arc, slowing as it gouged into the brown stone of the thousand foot cliff, causing sparks to fly. Curving upward it reached the top just as someone on the team pulled a lever. Clanking, the chain began to pull inward as the dangerous weapon resumed its fall towards the ground, this time on a shorter leash.

  “I can’t believe it,” Thacker exclaimed from behind him, pulling him from his observations.

  “What?” Braon asked.

  “I saw you describe it back at Azertorn, but I have to admit I had my doubts. As you said, it will sweep any climbing enemies off the cliff.”

  Sidestepping the compliment, Braon said, “I am impressed that the dwarves built it. Can you ask Onix how many are operational?”

  Thacker nodded, and a moment later replied, “Onix reports forty percent of the sweepers are working, and he has teams training on them now. He also wants to tell you that almost three quarters of the ballistae have been built. He has utilized humans that have knowledge of their construction, and it has helped him stay on schedule.”

  “Any problems?” Braon asked, raising his voice over a gust of wind.

  “Only with the stone magi,” Thacker replied for the dwarf general. “They have had a hard time rigging sections of the cliff to explode.”

  “Tell him to pull whoever he needs from the other divisions. Those defenses are vital.”

  He saw Thacker nod out of the corner of his eye and so he resumed his contemplations. On the surface, the army appeared to be working smoothly, despite the variety of races working together. In reality, a great deal of conflict between the more bitter enemies had been difficult to quell. Every evening, each general reported on the day’s progress and challenges. The nightly report had become a ritual of communication between Braon and his key leaders, each connected through the telepathic family. Once a week they met in person. It was Thacker’s favorite time of the week, and the only time he was able to see his entire family.

  Unfortunately, the past week had not gone as well as Braon would have liked. Frequent fights and disputes had broken out between different races. The resulting backlash had fueled resentment and anger between different peoples. Quick discipline had been the only thing preventing a full scale conflict that they could not afford. A good byproduct of the engagements had been an increase in their preparation efforts. It seemed no race wanted to be the last finished with their defenses.

  “Finally,” Thacker muttered, and Braon looked to see that they had passed the eastern falls and were approaching the House of Runya. Back winging, the firebird landed in the rooftop garden and allowed them to dismount.

  Braon threw a thankful thought to Reiquen and saw the feathered head dip in response. A moment later a blast of heat signaled the bird's departure as Braon turned to the business at hand. Ducking into the cool interior of the elven home, he pondered the different problems that needed to be solved. The path was familiar, so he let his feet carry him though the corridors until he exited onto the streets, his mind buzzing.

  With Thacker and two guards falling into step behind him, Braon worked his way through the crowded roads until he came to the palace of the elves. Just as he was about to turn towards the door Thacker caught up to him and touched his arm.

  “Sorry,” he said, “I forgot to tell you. Deiran mentioned that the queen was in the first women’s chamber.”

  Braon nodded and changed course towards one of the entrances to the caverns behind the city. Finding the nearest portal, he moved into the well-lit tunnel, negotiating past the many women moving in and out of the caverns. Most were human, although he saw quite a few from other races. Carrying babies and followed by small children, the mothers chosen to take care of the young appeared stressed and anxious, and few cast Braon a second look.

  The tunnel sloped downward, heading straight into the plateau. After several hundred feet, other corridors began branching off, each lit by countless flameless torches.

  Stray sounds echoed off the stone walls, babies crying or children playing mixed with the subtle hum of clothing machines. The mothers cavern had become a hive of activity in such a short time that the women hadn't been able to remove all of the dust.

  Reaching the end of the corridor, the ceiling receded into the roof of the first cavern. As high as it was, even the hundreds of lights could not reach it. Thousands of women worked within the space chosen to be the place of safety for wives (wives only?) and children. Women of various races could be seen working side by side to organize and fill clothing and food requests. Others could be seen fletching and making arrows that were then added to growing piles. At the sight of such order, Braon smiled, and had to admit that the women had come together far better than the men of Lumineia. The queen and Lariel had consistently reported no problems in their area, allowing him to focus on more pressing matters—but seeing such discipline made him wonder if the women should be responsible for more. They had smoothed any conflict between races and fostered a spirit of hope and dedication.

  “Commander!” someone called from the side, and Braon looked to see Erianna, one of the daughters of Runya, striding towards him. Short and blond like her sister Liri, she had volunteered to work with her mother in the caverns and had shown an aptitude for organization. Similar to Liri in temperament, the beautiful elf wore a plain, light green dress that in no way revealed her station as the high princess of Azertorn.

  “Eri,” Braon smiled and bowed. “It’s good to see you. How goes the work in the caverns?”

  Beaming, she answered as she stopped in front of him, “Wonderful! We are on schedule with both food and clothing orders, and even a little ahead with arrows.” She winked at him. “I think the arrow women want to win the competition.”

  Braon laughed, and realized that the sound seemed unfamiliar coming from his lips. “Ayame sent me a message…?”

  Eri’s grin faltered. “We have been having several problems with the merchants,” she said, spinning and heading towards a small enclosed area that held a few makeshift offices.

  Confused, but knowing that Erianna would have answered if she wanted him to know, he followed her. Her response had been odd, but the way her lips had pulled together had told him much.

  Ducking under the tent flap he stepped into the queen’s neat workroom and looked towards Ayame. To his surprise, she seemed worn. The shadows under her eyes made him consider whether he'd placed too much on the elf queen. Doing his best to hide his concern, he smiled at Ayame and bowed. "My Queen, what can I assist with?" />
  At his entrance she had risen to her feet and moved to stand close to him. “Braon,” she said affectionately, “it’s been a few days since you visited us. I hope all is well?” Her soft voice sounded the same as always, yet he caught several meanings from the subtle changes in her tone. The queen was worried, not much, but a little. Perhaps she had heard about the conflicts? She was also glad to see him, and not just because she missed him. There was something she was displeased with.

  Unable to figure out more, Braon sighed and allowed a little of his emotions to show through. “We have faced numerous challenges, but are working through them as best as we can. I understand though that you need assistance with an issue?”

  Her posture maintained the tenseness that he'd noticed, but her expression took on a sympathetic look. "I am sorry to have to add to your burden, but we are struggling with supplies."

  Braon's eyebrows knit together before he could stop them. "Do we have insufficient resources?"

  Ayame dismissed that with a wave of her hand. "We are fortunate to have enough. The problem we are facing is that the merchants' guild continues to raise its prices."

  "They want to make a profit off this war," Braon stated, not quite able to quell the flash of anger he felt.

  Eri caught his attention with a quick shake of her head. "Not all of the merchants feel that way, but the guildmaster and many of his masters do. The rest have no choice but to follow their guild."

  "What's the price for a basket of flour?" Braon asked. He needed an idea of how much the merchants were charging. In a typical harvest, a basket would cost a man ten copper.

  "Three gold pieces," Ayame said. "They tripled their price this morning."

  Braon growled, and again felt a rush of anger. A single gold piece was over forty times the norm. Three gold pieces was a fortune. Doing his best to keep his voice even, he said, "Are all their prices marked up in a similar fashion?"

  "Regrettably yes," Ayame said with a shrug. "Until this morning, I believed we could still pay their prices without using every copper in the treasury. Even with the added currency from all the gathered races, there is not enough coin to cover the cost of this battle unless the prices are lowered."

  "Have you spoken to the guildmaster?"

  "I have," Ayame replied, and Braon caught the furious look that passed across Eri's face. "He was . . . less than cordial."

  "He said she could pay it or go hungry," Eri muttered, causing Ayame to throw her a warning look.

  Braon was appalled, and he tasted fury at the way the queen had been treated. He was aware that the merchants' guild had raised their prices, but it was not what he felt he had authority to remedy. The guilds had always been autonomous from nation or people, and for him to interfere would be tantamount to declaring war on the guild.

  "There is more," Ayame said.

  "What else are they doing?" Braon asked, unable to grasp what would cause a man to jeopardize all life for the sake of coin.

  "They have begun selling charms that will protect the soldiers from harm," Ayame replied, disapproval lacing her tone.

  "And they are fake," Eri added in a matching voice.

  Braon frowned and rubbed his forefinger into his thumb. He could not risk alienating the merchant guild. If he did that, it would destroy the best supply line for his army. At the same time, he couldn't afford not to. What he needed was a way to circumnavigate a direct confrontation.

  He doubted persuasion would work with such a man, unless that persuasion came in the form of payment. He grunted at that idea and discarded it, loath to support such behavior. Just as easily he dismissed other positive motivators. Reluctantly, he considered fear. It was not an incentive he'd used before, and was a line he'd sworn to himself he would never cross . . . but some choices weren't always black and white. This appeared to be one of them.

  If he did cross this line, there would be no going back, and he would be forcing men to choose the right. It rankled that he had to make such a choice, and felt wrong somehow, but he had no other option. They were at war, and the only hope they had was of staying united.

  "Thacker?" Braon asked, and the man stepped to his side. "Have Newhawk gather a detachment of guards. Then collect the guildmaster—discreetly—and take him to the Lake Road." He hesitated, reluctant even now, but Thacker raised an eyebrow and he thought of Brynn. In a toneless voice he said, "Have Newhawk explain to him that he has a choice."

  Turning away from the surprise he saw reflected in their eyes, he said, "Tell him he can fight on the front line . . . or lower his price. Then inform him he will stop the trade of illicit goods—" He cast a chilling look back at Thacker. "—or I will have him executed for fraud. It is time for him to decide if he wants to join the gathering.

  "Or fight against it."

  Chapter 26: Whiteout

  Endless tracts of white tundra sprawled away from Taryn, erasing any semblance of location. Fortunately for all of them, Kell had a keen sense of direction and had travelled in the northern tundra before. While Trin and Jack complained about the cold and the fact they had been forced to leave their steeds behind, the massive troll led the way.

  Dressed in a kilt formed of leather strips, sandals, and a brown cloak that bulged with the curving sword on his back, the troll didn't even flinch at the icy climate. Only Jack had been bold enough to ask if he were chilly. Kell had jerked his head and grunted a negative, leaving Trin disappointed. Since they had departed Astaroth the troll had spoken just fourteen words, and at that rate Trin would lose the bet he'd made with Jack.

  Liri shivered next to Taryn, pulling her cloak closer to her body. “Blasted wind,” she muttered. “Two days in the cold is three too much for me. I wish I was at the beach.”

  Taryn smiled but didn’t respond, instead focusing on the darkening clouds overhead. For the last two hours, the sky had taken on an ominous import, with black clouds moving in their direction and then passing above them. The wind had picked up, driving the storm with freezing blasts of arctic air. Kell had quickened his pace an hour ago and had turned east of due north, heading towards a small collection of hills. It soon became clear they had no hope of crossing the distance before the storm broke.

  Less than a quarter of an hour later, the storm crashed over them with a fury. Wind howled and lashed their clothes, forcing them to lean into the gale. Snow filled the air, spinning and swirling before finding a resting place on the ground. Glancing sideways, Taryn saw Liri struggling, so he reached out and pulled her close, wrapping his own cloak around her shaking shoulders. Her body felt cold against his side, but his heart sent a burst of heat through his body at the contact. Matching the storm's intensity, he felt a barrage of thoughts clamor for attention.

  Does she want me to hold her? What if she doesn't? What if she pushes me away? The ideas were distracting and maddening at the same time, surprising him with their urgency. Now as he pressed her thin body against his and felt his mounting concern for her, he began to wonder if Jack had been right. Over the last few days he'd examined every encounter he'd ever had with her, but still felt at a loss. What if she really felt as he did? Was he wasting precious time? Or would he lose his friend if he voiced his feelings? What was he supposed . . .

  —A piercing sound lanced through the storm, animal and threatening. Taryn’s eyes snapped up, seeking the source at the same time every member of their group stopped and gathered inward. Kell turned his head, growling, “White tigron.”

  Trin started. “A white tigron?”

  “Its hunger will force it our way,” Jack said, serious for once. “They're more dangerous than a southern tigron because of it.” Jack had already dropped his pack and drawn his weapon, his eyes squinting into the blizzard.

  Kell dipped his huge head in agreement, casting Jack an appraising glance. “It will take down someone separate or weak.”

  “So it will go after Jack,” Trin drawled with a straight face, drawing his longsword. "And that makes twenty-five my friend." />
  "Twenty-four," Jack snorted and cast him a withering glance. “And I am still going to win.”

  Taryn listened to their banter as he studied the tract of land he faced, but he wasn’t fooled. Trin always coped with fear in the same way. He’d once said that his sense of humor was as good a mental armor as any.

  “How are we going to see it?” Liri asked, her teeth chattering.

  “We won’t,” Kell replied in his deep voice. “Until it attacks.”

  “There!” Mae raised her voice.

  Taryn spun to see her pointing to a boulder a hundred yards to the west.

  After a moment of silence, Jack said, “You don’t need to warn us about the snow, it’s not going to kill you.”

  She threw him a blistering look but he only chuckled.

  “I saw a flash of movement,” Mae said, her voice a little uncertain now.

  “It’s OK, Mae,” Trin said. “What did you see?”

  The small elf shook her head, “I thought I saw something.”

  Liri cursed and the uncharacteristic behavior caused Taryn to blink and look at her. He’d never heard her curse before.

  Ignoring his expression she grumbled, “This storm isn’t going to let us see anything coming at us. I can't see a dozen yards.”

  Before Taryn could reply Siarra grunted, “I might be able to give us some room to see.”

  Jack snorted, his expression doubtful. “You can stop a full storm?”

  She shook the gathering snow off her blond hair and answered, “Not stop, but maybe . . . redirect it.” She gestured at the wind driven snow swirling around them. “But with so much wind it will require almost all of my focus to maintain it. If a tigron attacks, I will be unable to help.”

  The wind whistled past them as they considered the trade-off.

  “Let’s do it," Liri said. "Together we should be more than a match for it, even without Siarra.”

  Siarra addressed Kell first, “Why don’t you take the eastern flank since that is where Mae saw it. Taryn you take the north while Jack covers the south. Trin and Mae will watch the west. Liri, you stick to the center with your bow. And spread out, I am going to need some room.”