by Ben Hale
"Did she ever mention Ducalik?"
"Not that I can recall," he replied. Then his eyebrows knit together. "But she did speak of another servant of Draeken, a man named Zorik. I believe he almost killed her."
"How many servants did Draeken have?" Tess asked. Her throat constricted at the idea of others.
"I don't know the answer to that question," he said, "but I do know one thing. Individuals that are evil have a way of attracting others to their cause—particularly when they are powerful." He flashed a faint smile. "I hope you will recognize that the opposite is true as well. Good beings have the same talent."
She recalled his words after the battle with Ducalik. The same questions she had asked then resounded through her mind. The last lingered the longest. Who was the master of flesh? Even in memory, Hawk's response chilled her to the bone.
Someone to fear.
She fell silent, but Stel seemed to feel her anxiety. He changed into a kitten sized cat and curled up on her lap. He purred at her and licked her hand. Absently she stroked his back, but couldn't find the words to comfort him.
Wrapped in her thoughts, the journey home passed quicker than it had on her way to Tryton’s. Hawk remained by her side until they stood in the airport near her house. As he had before, he embraced her.
"Be safe, Tess, and keep your eyes open."
"I will," she promised, and they separated. "But you're going to watch my back, aren't you?"
A fire lit in his eyes. "You can count on it."
A knot of gratitude rose into her throat, preventing further speech. She nodded instead, and then turned away. She looked back as she passed security but Hawk was already gone. Feeling alone, she watched the masses working their way through the metal detectors. Then she walked past them.
A sadness swept over her as she watched them removing their shoes and belts. They were oblivious to the reality of their world, and they carried on as if it didn't matter. A woman glanced her way. She saw nothing that held her interest so she turned back to her squabbling children.
Tess wished she could warn them, tell them of what threatened them so they could flee, or hide. She sighed, and realized there was no place to go. If the Dark was unleashed there was no place of refuge that could withstand it.
Unless she managed to stop it.
The burden of their lives weighed heavily on her shoulders, and didn't lift when she caught sight of her parents. A moment later they spotted her in turn and her mother closed the distance in a rush.
"Tess!" she said, engulfing her in a hug that cracked her spine. Who knew her mother had such strength?
"Hi, Mom," she replied. "Thanks for picking me up."
"What else would we do?" her father said with his characteristic grin.
Tess forced a smile and hugged him. Wrapped in his arms, she felt a sense of safety that almost managed to blot out her mood. When he stepped back his gaze was curious.
"Is everything alright?" he asked.
"Just tired from the flight," she lied. Exhaustion was always such an easy excuse. It made her less guilty that it wasn't entirely untrue. But the doubt in her dad's expression forced her to allow more of it to show through.
"Honest, dad, I just need to sleep."
He didn’t look convinced, but he took her bag and led the way to the car. Her mother took over the conversation, and launched into praise for her grades. Apparently they had been converted to typical high school lettering and sent out.
"Five A's and one A-," she exclaimed. "I'm so proud of you."
Tess knew that History of Magic had been the holdout, but was still proud of her scores. It was far above what she'd ever achieved before.
Tess did her best to respond naturally to her parents’ queries. After what she'd been through in the previous weeks she didn't think she could handle any more that day. They stopped for burgers and ice cream, and together they ate and talked as they had before. Throughout the meal they peppered her with questions about what school was like. She did her best to keep answers simple, and as honest as possible. At least that way she had a better chance of not getting into trouble later.
"You mentioned your roommate was odd, are you sure you don't want a new one?"
"She's a little . . . quirky, but otherwise nice." How many times had Iris saved her life?
"And your classes? You hardly gave any details over the phone." Her mother's forehead creased with disapproval. "You didn't call much by the end of the term, so I can only assume it was going well."
Guilt assailed her, but she sidestepped the question. "They're good, and the teachers are exceptional at making the topics . . . interesting." But how can flying not be the best thing you have ever studied?
"Any boys catch your eye?"
That one came from her father, and despite his casual tone she saw the potential for violence in his eyes.
"Not really," she said. Except one, but he tried to kill me and plans on destroying the world.
His gaze was measuring, and she tried not to blink. Early in her life she had learned not to lie to her father. He had an uncanny way of sensing when she did. This time he must have decided to let it pass, or maybe it was the "accidental" elbow in his side from her mother.
The conversation shifted, and soon they were on their way home. It wasn't until Tess was back in her old room that her emotions nearly overwhelmed her. She sank onto the bed, wishing she could tell her parents.
But how would they react? It was entirely possible that they would forbid her from going back—especially when they learned a classmate had nearly killed her—twice. Tess shuddered, knowing that it was the only place she would feel normal. She shook her head and stared at the ceiling. After a time her exhaustion got the best of her and she fell asleep.
The next couple of days were a blur of nothingness. Tess went to the grocery store, bought new clothes, and spent time with Amy. Although they hadn't spoken in months, she was excited to hear about Tess's new school. She left disappointed and confused. Throughout the visit Tess felt isolated and alone, and wished her friends from Tryton’s would contact her. Two days after she got home Iris did . . . in the middle of the night.
Tess awoke to a faint tinkling sound. She snapped awake and rubbed sleep from her eyes, trying to find the source of the noise. Before she could, Stel stretched off her hand and pulled her spectacles into her palm. Thanking him, she donned them in a rush and answered.
"Tess, there is something you need to see . . ."
"Iris? What's going on?" she whispered. A glance her clock revealed it to be after eleven.
"I am routing the feed to your glasses now. Stay on with me until it's over. We need to talk."
Before Tess could respond Iris was gone. In her place a high quality video began streaming. It lit the room with light as she watched a handful of men sitting around a white table. Hundreds of others sat in shadow around them. With a start she recognized it as the high council chamber. The people's stance and posture were formal, making it clear this was being projected across the entire mage-net.
From the angle she could see High Chancellor Anderson, and three of the other chancellors. The last had her back to Tess, but her head was turned to face the one speaking. As Tess looked to the speaker, her gaze passed over High Chancellor Anderson, and his expression sent a tremor through her heart.
His face was rigid, as if it demanded all of his strength to control his emotions. Tiny drops of sweat touched his skin, and even through the glasses, Tess could feel his fear and crippling worry. It was the look of a man who had lost everything—or was about to lose everything.
Tess swallowed and turned her attention on Chancellor Ranson. Strong and charismatic, his voice was as smooth as ever, like poisonous silk gliding across ones arm. But his eyes glittered as they had in the troll village.
" . . . We have lived a life of solitude for thousands of years," Chancellor Ranson was saying, "exiling ourselves because our war with the aurens was consuming the planet. With the ad
vent of newer technology and better weapons—on both sides—a repeat of that conflict will threaten the very existence of life.
"But both sides have changed since the Great Mage War. We have watched those without magic fall into darkness, confusion, and pointless bloodshed. The ancient wars, the Dark Ages, and massive modern conflicts have all led to a world where apathy, entitlement, and hate do more damage than anything else.
"Yet we have flourished. In obscurity we have grown closer to the light, and have all but eliminated crime and need. But in our absence the world has become a place of murky gray. People, cities, and nations—all lack a beacon of what mankind is meant to be.
"Perhaps we have failed," he went on, his voice rising with passion. "Perhaps in our desire to prevent war we have only caused it. Mages have come to know that individuals are capable of more, and that justice can be served equitably for crimes committed. There is no reason for us to stand idle while the citizens of Earth—of Lumineia—destroy themselves.
"We must act!" he exclaimed. "All but former High Chancellor Anderson have voted for this unprecedented change. Even Chancellor Gerik has changed his stance, and now supports this decision. I admit there were times I doubted this council's ability to make the right choice, but something has changed!"
Ranson slammed his hand down on the table. "And this change has been crucial to this decision!"
Tess felt dread plummet into her stomach at his words, and a moment later her fears were confirmed.
"We have a new oracle in our midst!"
Ranson sounded almost reverent, but his expression caused Tess's fear to mount. The council chamber erupted in rumblings as Tess realized the truth. The attacks on her had served to bring her out of obscurity—all so her mere presence could impact the vote taking place. Everything—even the timing of her presenting—had led up to this single event, so Ranson could gain control.
"And she will bring us out of hiding in the only way possible," Ranson called, raising his voice to be heard. "She will fulfill the ancient prophecy and unite our peoples. It is the only way for us to end the auren bloodshed. It is the only way for us to bring light to a world darkened by greed." His gaze settled onto Anderson with pity in his eyes.
"I only wish that our high chancellor had not acted so foolishly. As much as it saddens me to say it . . . I accept his resignation. With my last breath I will carry on in his place." He passed a hand over his face as if his emotions were too much to bear. Then he took a breath and gathered himself.
"Our first act must be to protect our fledgling oracle so she may one day lead us," his voice oozed sincerity, yet Tess felt an odd stillness fill her room. It seemed that across the distance, the newly appointed high chancellor stared directly into her soul.
"We must not allow the aurens to harm her before she can take her place," he said. His smile was of protective worry, but his eyes bore the mark of triumph. Then High Chancellor Ranson closed his comments with a phrase that chilled her to the bone.
"If the aurens were to kill her . . . I have no doubt it would carry us to war."
Time slowed as all the pieces she'd witnessed came together. The Harbingers had done everything to place Ranson as high chancellor—the position of ultimate power. The ploys to get her in the open had succeeded. Now they intended something entirely different.
" . . . Tess! Tess!" Iris's voice broke through her thoughts. "Did you hear what he was saying?"
"I did," she whispered.
"I scrambled the mage net to slow them down, but the Harbinger techno mage is ahead of me. They mean to make you a—ˮ
"A martyr," Tess said softly. "I know."
She stared through the glasses without seeing them, her mind spinning in circles without gaining any traction. Alive, she was an unpredictable nuisance that had coldly rejected an invitation to join them. Dead, she would be a symbol that the Harbingers—with their highly placed forces—could rally the mages behind.
She didn't have to be alive to unite the world.
The liquid ice of fear filled her veins. Could Ranson have planned this entire thing? Or was it the Master? She felt a tremor start at the top of her spine and work its way down. Then she forced the truth into words.
"My death is the reason for their war."
She stood and moved to the window. Nothing moved in the shadows, but she knew it was only a matter of time. After what Ranson had said they would come for her. She thought of her parents, sitting downstairs and watching TV. How much time did she have? Days? Hours? In her gut she knew the truth.
They were coming tonight.
The Chronicles of Lumineia
By Ben Hale
—The White Mage Saga—
Assassin's Blade (Short story prequel)
The Last Oracle
The Sword of Elseerian
Descent Unto Dark
Impact of the Fallen
The Forge of Light
—The Second Draeken War—
Elseerian
The Gathering
Seven Days
The List Unseen
—The Warsworn—
The Flesh of War
The Age of War
The Heart of War (Dec 2015)
Author Bio
Originally from Utah, Ben has grown up with a passion for learning almost everything. Driven particularly to reading caused him to be caught reading by flashlight under the covers at an early age. While still young, he practiced various sports, became an Eagle Scout, and taught himself to play the piano. This thirst for knowledge gained him excellent grades and helped him graduate college with honors, as well as become fluent in three languages after doing volunteer work in Brazil. After school, he started and ran several successful businesses that gave him time to work on his numerous writing projects. His greatest support and inspiration comes from his wonderful wife and five beautiful children. Currently he resides in Florida while working on his latest writing and business endeavors.
To contact the author, discover more about Lumineia, or find out about the upcoming sequels, check out his website at Lumineia.com. You can also follow the author on twitter @ BenHale8 or Facebook.
