The Chronicles of Lumineia: Book 02 - The Gathering

by Ben Hale

  Gaze shrugged, a little abashed, but she didn’t seem to notice. With a jerk of her head she said, “That won’t stop them for long. We need to get out of the city. They will be flooding the streets by now, especially after one of my Riverguard injured Famine.”

  Anders took the lead because he knew the city so well, but Loken followed close behind. As they wound their way through the city, trying to avoid the increasing enemy patrols, Gaze asked Lexi, “Who are the Riverguard? And what exactly is Famine?”

  Her eyes touched his before they went back to scanning doorways and alleys. After a moment she murmured, “The Riverguard are the elven guard of Laraith. At some point, someone named our village the guardians of the river, and our elven warriors are some of the best. Famine is the name of one of the generals of Draeken.” She glanced at him, her expression appraising. “The two of you must have been quite a thorn in their side to merit a personal visit.”

  Gaze felt his stomach spasm at the memory of the magical attack. “I thought we were going to die,” he said.

  She threw a sharp look at him, and he spotted a faint smile lighten her features. “He appeared a few moments before we were in position. As it was, the only one close enough to make the shot was a ranger, Arzai, and you had better thank him for that later. He hit Famine from over three hundred paces, between buildings.”

  “Sounds like a great bowman. You said he was your ranger?”

  “One of our rangers, and he usually takes the lead,” she said with a curt nod. “A true Riverguard, you will never see him unless he wants to be seen, and with his longbow he is supreme.”

  “Sounds like a good guy to have around,” Gaze said, hushing his voice as he heard footsteps nearby.

  “He’s the best of us,” she said candidly, but Loken grunted. She frowned at him but he didn’t say anything so she added, “All of the Riverguard are good.”

  “Let’s hope they survive this war,” Gaze said.

  “We’re nearly to the horses,” Loken said, pulling up short. “But there looks to be some Quare between us and the stables.

  Lexi glided past him and peeked over the wall they were hiding behind. She nodded to herself and ducked back. Looking at Loken she said, “Go south until the shop with the green shutters. Get to the roof and signal the others to draw them south along the road.”

  He accepted the orders and disappeared back down the alley. A minute later Gaze heard an owl hoot and a few other birds responded back. Then the unmistakable challenge of an eagle pierced the air. Lexi flashed a fierce grin, “Good, Arzai is here too.” She whistled in a brief series, and the eagle screamed back.

  They didn’t have to wait long before Gaze spotted an elf dressed in tan and green clothes that blended perfectly with city stride into the street. Lifting a magnificent longbow, he began sending arrow after arrow into the pack of startled fiends blocking their way. The shafts of death flew so fast and precise that several perished before the rest could respond, but then they screamed in rage and the whole group flooded towards the ranger.

  Arzai didn’t hesitate. In a flash he raced towards a wall and scaled the exterior of a building almost as fast as he'd run on the ground. Just as he disappeared onto the roof, the rest of the Quare reached the building. Some followed him to the top while others bounded down side alleys in pursuit. In moments the street was clear and Lexi led them across.

  “Will he be okay?” Gaze asked. He’d seen so many cavalry get killed by the agile Quare that he couldn’t imagine a single person outrunning them, even an elf.

  She smirked, “He’ll be fine, trust me.”

  He hid his doubtful frown but followed her into stables that had been recently concealed from the outside to look like a pile of debris. She gestured to one of the guards and ordered a retreat as she mounted a brown mare. Pointing with her chin, she indicated two horses off to one side. “Take those and follow me.”

  Gaze leapt astride the roan and urged him to follow Lexi. In seconds other elves appeared and the whole group trotted out of the stables, heading west. “How many Riverguard are here?” Gaze asked one of the elves next to him.

  “Fifty,” the elf replied, keeping his eyes on his side of the street. “We split up when we entered the city.”

  Anders apparently overheard the answer because he pulled his horse closer and said in an undertone, “Is it just me or are these elves like a special combat force?”

  Despite the situation Gaze grinned. “They seem pretty tough, and they certainly saved our skins.”

  As the road straightened out Lexi picked up the pace. In unison, the entire command followed suit. Hooves pounded the ground, casting dust into the sky and marking their passage. Less than ten seconds passed before Gaze heard a series of crashes coming in their direction.

  The fiends had heard them.

  A wall shattered as a giant Kraka charged right through a house. Seeing them so close it lunged, its sword reaching for them, but their fleet-footed steeds were already out of reach. Gaze threw a look back and saw the house it had plowed through crumble even as the hulk turned to give chase.

  A deep rumbling began to build, increasing in intensity until it shook the ground. Then buildings on their flanks disintegrated as Krakas thundered through them. Walls exploded as giant fiends clawed for them. Squeaking through the narrowing gap, they ducked massive swords and grasping hands with only one casualty. Quare and dogs swarmed over buildings and through the holes, bellowing their anger. Like a pair of shears tightening on a piece of cloth, the roaring horde closed on them with a fury.

  Gaze flinched as more burst into view beside him, but fought to keep his focus on the clear road ahead. His heart thundered in time with his horses' gate, and he prayed they could stay ahead of the chase. Rounding a curve, he saw the city gates come into view.

  Feeling a rush of relief, he kicked his horse to greater speed and spared Anders a glance. For one brief second it looked they were going to make it. Then the fiends began breaking through ahead of them and rushed to cut off their escape.

  “Riverguard!” Lexi called in a tight voice, “Hold them off!”

  Several of the riders peeled off and slowed, ready to give their lives so they could escape, but Gaze felt his anger burst into rage at so many that had died to allow him to live. Hate at the loss thundered through his body and he shouted, “NO!”

  Hearing his protest, Lexi threw a look back and saw his expression. Her face lit up as she saw what he was going to do and her whistle cut through the din. The riders that had slowed rejoined the pack as Gaze closed his eyes, gathering every bit of energy he could find. Pouring his emotion into his magic, he did not see the fiends begin to close the circle in front of them, nor did he feel the air darken as the sky clouded over.

  “Gaze . . .” Anders said in a rising tone, and he opened his eyes. On every side the black army chased them. From behind they followed, from the sides they crashed through or climbed over buildings, and ahead they massed in the street. In every direction they formed a sea of writhing enemies descending towards them.

  Then Gaze raised his hands and yanked the energy to the ground.

  Streams of lightning cascaded from the sky in a deadly waterfall, filling the air with its heavenly energy. Fiends cried out as white shafts of magic lanced through their bodies before coursing into the ground, detonating and tossing others to their death. Hundreds of Quare died in a matter of seconds, Sipers were charred to dust, and even mighty Krakas stumbled and roared. Ahead of them, the barricade of flesh took the brunt of the magical assault, with most of them left smoking in shallow craters. The few that survived were dispatched by well-placed arrows from the elven warriors, and a moment later, their horses leapt over the ash remains. Then they were through the gates.

  Glancing sideways, Gaze saw two other groups of riders fleeing the city from the north exits. Beside him, Anders pumped a fist into the air and raised a cry of exultation . . . but it shifted to one of despair as they saw the line of giant skorpians
to the south. Their huge pincers snapped and their tails whipped back and forth in unison, sending thousands of barbed shafts arcing towards them.

  Gaze, drained and exhausted from channeling so much energy, raised his left hand and clenched it one last time. More lightning answered his call. Although much thinner and weaker than before, it crackled into a shield that knocked most of the deadly rain out of the sky. Managing to dodge the rest, the elves’ horses carried them to freedom.

  Gaze looked back one last time and saw the city crumbling and burning from the lightning. Relief at their escape warred with the numbness of witnessing the southern capitol destroyed. Turning forward he saw the blond hair of Lexi bouncing in the wind, and felt a flash of comfort. At least we have friends. She looked back then and caught his gaze, flashing an approving smile that he returned.

  They had a week of hard riding to get to the Blue River. Between them and the elven kingdom, nothing remained except the emptiness of grasslands. Behind them, the entire breadth of the once great kingdom of Talinor lay in ruins. Forests burned, cities were destroyed, and an endless tide of black creatures marred the landscape.

  Gaze's homeland was gone.

  Chapter 29: Unexpected Allies

  Wind whistled around Braon’s face as he flew west with Newhawk and Thacker. Just moments ago they had received word from the gnome king that a small group of dark elves had appeared from the western mountains. The news had buzzed through the seven commands like wildfire, and many of the soldiers were afraid of an attack. Braon couldn’t blame them. Dark elves were said to be the most evil of any race, and there were quite a few tales, most likely based in truth, that said that they slaughtered without mercy.

  By far the most superstitious, the humans had needed firm discipline to keep their fear in check, and once again Braon was glad that prince Graden was in charge of many of them. The prince had kept his wits about him, and hadn’t bent to requests to slay the newcomers before more could arrive.

  Rubbing his eyes, Braon looked at the defenses that were nearing completion in many places. In the last week many of problems between the races had smoothed out, aided in large part by the firm leadership of the generals. Even the barbarians and amazons had thrown themselves into building the Lake Road fortifications. It boded well for their efforts that those two groups were working together. The few disagreements had been well handled by Golic. The large barbarian had turned out to be exactly what he needed on that flank.

  Reiquen banked to the right as they approached the far western battalion. Commanded by the little gnome king, Talfar, the section was comprised of gnomes and orcs and was by far the least organized. Braon hoped that its distance from the city, as well as the sheer number of gnomes and orcs, would prevent it being overrun. Talfar had also developed into a competent general, and Braon had used the gnomes’ respect for their king to organize the defenses in The Gray.

  Below him, most of the cliff-top defenses were working well, and he pulled from his musings to get a better look at them. Sweeper crews were training hard, and had developed a rhythm that would be vital during the battle. Ballistae crews had also honed their craft until they were proficient and accurate. Sweepers and Boltmen, as the army called them, had started a rivalry that Braon had encouraged. It had aided in the bonding process of the various races and would further boost morale during the battle.

  Behind the cliff top battlements, the sequence of three divisions within the battalions had become well established. He could see the front line training, which they would do throughout their eight hour shift. Currently the front line was just pulling back, as if being driven by the enemy. Just as the phoenix glided overhead, the cavalry came rushing in, spears lowered to sweep the invisible enemy off the cliff and close the hole in the defenses.

  Farther from the front, the first reserve waited for their turn on the front line. During their down time, they prepared arrows and bolts and participated in classes to teach them about the different fiends. At first, the information training had caused significant resistance in the troops, but soon the knowledge that Braon had learned in the elven archives about krakas, skorpians, quare, and sipers, as well as the three generals of Draeken’s army, had proved its worth. The veteran soldiers and new fighters alike had realized the value of knowing the approaching enemy’s strengths and weaknesses.

  Braon knew that fear in the face of the unknown would be catastrophic to their efforts, but it wasn't the sole purpose for the training. The classes had also helped to quiet the doubters. Without physical proof, many of the less educated masses still didn't believe the fiends were coming. Of all the races, only the barbarians and amazons had witnessed the fiends. After their arrival, Braon had made a point of temporarily stationing barbarians with other divisions. The tales had spread of their own volition.

  “There,” Newhawk said, pointing, and Braon turned to where he indicated.

  They were currently flying over The Deep, the middle battalion on the west. At the moment it was staffed by dwarves. Working as only dwarves could, they were finishing the defensive wall and preparing the oil. When Braon had first seen it, the cliff dipped to eight-hundred feet at this section, but now a two hundred foot wall raised it to the level of the cliff. Twenty feet thick, Braon hoped it would be even stronger by the time the battle began. He still needed a general and an army to place there, but only ten days remained before the fiends arrived.

  On the other side of the dip, he could see a cluster of buildings that had been hastily constructed a comfortable distance from the cliff’s edge. The command center of Gray battalion, it housed Talfar, The Gray captains, and Talfar’s link, Jason, the older of the two twins, and their respective guards.

  A large group of gnomes and orcs had surrounded a small cluster of people. As they neared, it turned into four black-skinned elves, several gnomes, and Talfar with his bodyguards. Next to the gnome general stood Jason with his personal guards. Even from this distance Braon could hear the mob of superstitious orcs and gnomes calling for the death of the dark elves.

  Braon frowned. There should be more discipline than this. He’d already ordered Talfar to keep things under control. Reiquen, he thought, addressing the phoenix. Would you mind giving them something to really be frightened of? The answer in his head was a low chuckle, followed by the ear-splitting war cry of the giant bird.

  Silence fell across the rabble of angry soldiers, and they were now close enough for him to hear Talfar angrily command his troops to get back to their posts. As the phoenix circled to land, many of the orcs trundled back to their training, casting fearful looks at the firebird. The few that remained turned out to be higher ranked gnomes that clearly felt they had the right to stay and watch the outcome.

  Reiquen back winged to land, sending waves of hot air into them. The moment they were on the ground, Newhawk jumped off the bird and stalked right up to the cluster of smaller gnomes. “Is there something you require?” he demanded.

  Most of them looked at each other for support until one said, “We wondered why the dark elves are here.” He glanced at the dark-skinned group and spit. “They are not welcome he—”

  Newhawk stepped up to the brazen gnome captain as Braon dismounted. “You will fight with whoever you are ordered to fight with,” Newhawk said. “Furthermore, you will obey your commanding officer and return to your command.”

  The gnome began to protest but Newhawk raised a hand. “You already fight alongside the dwarves.” The gnomes bared their teeth at the reference to their racial enemy. “And they are proving to be an excellent ally for this battle, but I will make this simple for you. You will fight with the gathering, or against the gathering. Which is it?” Newhawk folded his arms and waited.

  Finally the captain seemed to understand and he backed off. “Yes sir,” he grumbled, and retreated towards the cliff. The rest were quick to follow but the druid remained until they had gone a hundred feet. Finally he grunted in satisfaction and strolled to the group of dark elves, arrivi
ng about the same time as Braon. Just before they stopped, Braon caught Newhawk’s eye and gave him a subtle nod of approval.

  “Nicely handled, although I would have dealt with it . . . differently,” one of the elves, a female, said as she stepped forward. Her accent was rich, but she still spoke common.

  Newhawk smiled graciously, “What would you have done?”

  “Probably slipped a dagger in his ribs,” she admitted.

  Braon listened to the druid’s response without saying anything. For the moment, the dark elves considered Newhawk in charge, and it allowed the young commander time for a quick study of the newcomers.

  They looked remarkably like their surface cousins, at least in body shape, and each was lean and fit. The female wore a tight, revealing outfit and a cloak that hung to the ground. Her black hair was pulled back and tied, showing an angular face dominated by black eyes that glittered with deep intelligence. Everything about her clothing and demeanor demonstrated superiority, and Braon recalled that for dark elves, females were considered dominant.

  The males, for their part, wore thin swords. Their stance betrayed their skill with them. Garbed in black cloaks and equally dark clothes, they appeared as blots of midnight absorbing the light from the setting sun. Guards, Braon thought, confident in his conclusion, but their looks towards the female revealed something more. Not only were the guards nervous, which could have been attributed to their presence on the surface, but they were nervous for the female. Their apprehension could have been explained by any number of reasons, but their behavior led him to think that she was of higher rank.

  “Val’Trisian,” she said, introducing herself.

  “Newhawk,” Braon’s second said. Then he tilted his head towards the phoenix fifty feet away. “And that is Reiquen, my Joré.”

  “A druid,” she said with a nod, understanding filling her eyes. “And bonded to a phoenix. Impressive.” Although the guards shifted, Braon could see no deception in her tone or look.