The Chronicles of Lumineia: Book 01 - Elseerian (3 page)

He smiled to himself. Every day since he was five he’d run a few miles before dawn. It was the only time of day that he could think without being disturbed. At first it was just the solitude that had appealed to him. Later it had become a game to avoid all contact with anyone. Hearing footsteps, he would slip into the woods and ghost past someone without them ever knowing he was there.

Taryn continued to run for ten minutes until he came to one of the villages. Without breaking stride, he used a tree to swing himself onto the roof of a cabin and lightly crossed to grab another branch. Like just another shadow in the morning, he passed through the village without touching the ground. On the other side he dropped softly from a tree and sprinted down the trail. Getting closer to his destination forced him to be more careful as the appearance of one, and then another person, spurred sudden detours. Coming within view of Seascape he slowed to a walk. He had covered almost seven miles in a little over thirty minutes, but suddenly he didn’t want to arrive so early.

The city lay sprawled out below him. Cottages and cabins were placed around the outside while the dining hall, arena, and other communal structures were situated in the middle of town. A small strip of forest separated the settlement from the beach. Beyond that, a large dock stretched out into the ocean with the
Sea Dancer,
one of the few ships to come every year, bobbing at the end.

Since he still had over an hour before he had to be at the arena, he decided to go down to the dock. Wanting to avoid anyone talking to him, he set a quick pace through town and stepped onto the long pier. Continuing to the very end where the great ship lay berthed, he turned onto a smaller dock for fishing boats. No one was on the jetty itself, but there were several sailors doing various chores on the large ship. Nodding at them, he sat with his legs hanging off the dock’s edge, and turned his gaze towards the water.

This close to the sea, the rising sun loomed painfully bright, so he closed his eyes and relaxed. Leaning against a post he enjoyed the soft breeze tugging at his tunic and pants. Any sounds from the city were muted by the crashing surf, and the peace that surrounded him made it hard to imagine the night he was born.

Twenty-one years ago, an incredible storm had whipped the ocean into an angry white froth. For several days a merchant ship had struggled to stay afloat, knowing they were close to the island but unable to find it in the gale. Just as they spotted land a giant wave reached out and smashed their vessel brutally against the reef. An entire side of the boat shattered under the force, and water gushed in.

As the boat sank, many tried to jump to safety inside the reef—but no one made it. At the last instant, two figures appeared on the prow. One placed a foot in the joined hands of the other and using the extra push, was thrown to safety. With the tremendous strength of the thrower, the person in the air covered thirty feet to the reef and dived smoothly into the lagoon. Surfacing, they began pushing towards shore.

Fate seemed to have other plans. Before they could reach the sandy beach, another large wave hit the boat. The thick mast snapped and hurtled over the reef to crash into the desperate swimmer, who would have drowned then without help. The harbormaster at the time had been the only witness to the carnage and without hesitation sprang into the water. A few minutes later he dragged a pregnant elf maid onto the beach. Fierce wind and rain battered him as he fought to carry her into his home. Laying her on his bed, he relit the candle extinguished by the gust that had ushered them in. The mast had struck her hard, breaking an arm and leaving an ugly wound bleeding through golden hair. She regained consciousness just long enough to give birth and say a name . . . then she was gone.

A long katsana had been strapped on her back with a green gem above the handle. Among the wreckage the following morning, the villagers found the body of a human with dark red hair. Because the newborn’s hair matched his in color, everyone assumed this man must have been the father. On his back had been another katsana, this one with a blue gem above the grip.

No one had recognized either one of them, and it had caused quite a dilemma over what to do with the baby. In the end, several people had stepped forward and volunteered to raise him. Murai had been one of them, and oddly the most insistent about taking care of him. In the end his persistence won out and he’d been allowed to become his guardian. To this day Taryn did not know why he had been so adamant.

Taryn had heard the story from the harbormaster many times and never tired of it, but it didn’t manage to satisfy the ache he felt to know more.

A sudden weight pressed down onto the board on which he was sitting, causing him to open his eyes and look up to see a beautiful, slender elf sit down next to him.

“I thought I would find you here.” Liriana’s voice carried a hint of music, betraying her skill with song. Clear blue eyes were framed with thin eyebrows and fair skin. Straight blonde hair fell uninhibited down her back—the gentle wind flicking and pulling at it. She was dressed in riding pants and light chain mail that couldn’t quite hide the curves in her figure.

An impish smile played across her face as she focused on Taryn. “You don’t have much time before you fight. Are you ready?”

“I don’t know. I guess so. What about you?”

“I am more ready to use my bow than my sword.” She emphasized her statement by reaching back and pulling her longbow into view. She had made it herself from a supple yew branch and had carved intricate designs into it over the years. Learning how to use a bow had been the most natural thing in the world to her—and the first thing she had chosen to study. Mastering it quickly, she had moved on to learn the elven short sword, but had had a little more trouble with a blade. She had actually helped teach him the longbow and they had stayed close ever since. He had once seen her split a leaf at a hundred paces—a story still told on the island.

On impulse, he decided to voice his thoughts. “Can I ask you something?” He glanced at her, trying to read her expression.

Her eyes pierced his as she shrugged. “Sure.”

Looking away, he asked, “Do you remember a few years ago, when I asked Suoh and the others to leave me alone?”

Her brow crinkled as she looked at him. “Yeah . . .”

“Why did they want to fight me?”

She laughed lightly and said, “They don’t like that you’re better than them. Maybe they saw it as an opportunity to gang up on you, or maybe they were just mad that you stood up for yourself. Either way, you handled it well, even with so many of them.”

He sighed and looked away. “I don’t think it went well at all. I tried not to hurt them.”

She laughed again and nudged his side. “What’s this about—” Her eyes then widened as she grinned. “They’re still talking about the garden incident, aren’t they.”

“I only pulled up a few plants,” he protested. “I didn’t know they weren’t weeds.”

She shook her head and grinned. “I know you didn’t. How could you have known they were the gardeners’ prized flowers?”

He frowned at the sarcasm in her voice but she just laughed again.

“It really isn’t that much of an issue Taryn. They can’t beat you with a weapon, so they try to tear you down with something else.”

“There are certainly plenty of things they can use.” He chuckled in chagrin.

“Maybe,” she said without taking her eyes off him. “But none of those things matter. Everyone is good at something. If you could, would you trade your skill with weapons for a talent in the kitchen?”

An image of others praising him for his well baked bread came to mind, causing him to snort at the idea. “Of course not, I—” Then it clicked. She was right, as usual, and he had to admit he’d never looked at it that way.

“Even if it meant you didn’t burn the bread every time?”

Amused at the similar train of thoughts, he replied, “Even then.”

She chuckled for a moment. “At least you have grown out of
some
of your awkwardness.”

He laughed, taking her bait, “Only some?”

“Only some.” She smiled coyly. “You now have a
few
friends.”

“A few, but I know I can count on them,” he admitted, and then inclined his head towards her. “It must be nice to have so many.”

She tossed her hair and looked away, her humor evaporating. “Having friends doesn’t mean they are good friends.”

He didn’t know what to say. Liri, as her close friends called her, was pretty, elegant, poised, and strong willed, and she drew others to her with ease, but he’d never considered the idea that having a host of friends could be bad.

She started to laugh then, a bitter and sad sound. “At least when we leave the island, it won’t matter.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, leaning back against a post. Although he sometimes didn’t know what to say around others, Liri had a way of easing his discomfort.

She glanced at him before responding, and her gaze carried a disturbing depth he had never seen before. “When we get back to the mainland, things will be . . . different. We will be away from all the petty differences here, but there are other things that might not be any better. I . . . will be different.”

He blinked and leaned forward. She had never explained her reluctance to return home, and until now, had avoided the conversation of staying or going. “So did you decide if you are coming back or staying?” Even though he doubted she would ever favor someone like him, he couldn’t suppress a smile at the idea of sailing away with her.

She hesitated. “I decided . . . to go back when you did.” As she finished the statement, her crystal blue eyes met his—then flicked back to the sea. They both knew that Taryn was going back on the very ship that nudged the pier they sat on—as long as he passed his test today. He’d had a burning desire to find out more about his parents for as far back as he could remember, and he had only waited to finish training. It had never been a question of
if
he would go back, but
when
.

With his heart soaring at the prospect of her companionship, Taryn rose to his feet and pulled her up to face him. “I would love to—I mean . . . it would be nice . . . to have some company.” He knew how he sounded, and felt a wave of relief when she laughed it off.

“Just promise me that you will stay my friend, no matter what you see on the other end.” Her wide grin didn’t match the serious glint in her eyes, causing him to wonder again what she was afraid of.

“Always,” he managed to say.

The impish smile returned in an instant. “You have to finish first—and I don’t know if your teachers will pass you. You
were
always the lazy sort . . .”

“Speak for yourself,” he said, unable to stop his smile enough to feign a wounded expression. “As I recall, it was you who didn’t like to get out of bed for the morning run.”

Her pealing laughter lifted his heart even more, and his grin widened as they began to walk towards shore. They both knew his words to be true, and the memory of her grumbling every morning caused him to join in her mirth.

By the time they reached the end of the dock and stepped onto the beach, Liri’s laugh had reduced to a chuckle.

“Let’s go warm up together,” she suggested.

He nodded, feeling a rush of gratitude for her friendship. Falling into step with her shorter gait, he paused only to glance back at the great ship in the harbor.

A surge of confidence washed over him as he realized that as long as he performed well, his journey would begin the following day. He had only to demonstrate the skills he’d honed for his entire life.

It was time to be tested.

Chapter 2: The Acabi

Taryn and Liri arrived at the amphitheatre together and began working their way past several students and masters on their way to the bottom. Shaped like a crescent-moon, the natural depression sloped downward and faced a sheer stone wall over twenty feet high. Over the next hour, spectators would continue to trickle in and find seats on stone benches. With each row constructed in descending half circles, there were few locations that did not afford an excellent view.

Between the first row and the rock face, the ground had been cleared, leaving a wide half circle of flat ground. Centuries of battles and ceremonies had pounded the dirt to a rock hard surface. At the moment, four other students were in the bottom of the bowl sparring. Joining them, Taryn and Liri found a section of open ground and unsheathed their weapons. Taryn drew only one sword before facing her.

“Don’t worry, I will go easy on you,” Liri said with a smirk, the last word barely reaching his ears before she moved in with a quick right slash.

They hadn’t really practiced together in a few years—not since he’d stopped learning the bow and moved on to the katsana, but he had to admit she had gotten a LOT better. He parried—but instantly had to twist to avoid her reverse. Taking a quick step backward he swept his sword across to block her next strike—and shifted his feet to attack. She smoothly sidestepped his quick upward thrust—then leapt in with a flurry of lightning fast moves.

In moments, their simple warm-up accelerated into a fierce competition. It was clear to Taryn that his counterpart wanted to prove herself, so he resisted the impulse to reveal his own skill. Wanting to really see how much she had learned, he took her through several complicated routines—which she followed surprisingly fast and without any hesitation. Every sweep of her blade was as quick as thought as she danced back and forth through everything Taryn threw at her. This continued for several minutes until Taryn saw out of the corner of his eye that the benches were almost full.

Suddenly very aware of the eyes on him, Taryn nearly missed a block, so he took the next opportunity available. Seeing her shift of feet for another thrust, he waited until the last second and darted towards her while her sword extended past him . . . inches from his right side. Without stopping he rolled down her blade and behind her.

Before she could turn to face him, he sheathed his sword and wrapped his left arm around her waist—trapping her body against his. At the same moment, his right hand reached down her swinging sword arm and grabbed her wrist. Before she could react, he pressed onto her wrist, forcing her to drop her weapon.