The Chronicles of Lumineia: Book 01 - Elseerian (39 page)

 As the others came up behind him and stepped out of the water, they each smiled.

"How did you know this was here?" Liri asked.

"I didn’t. I saw light flash off the water near the opening and hoped for something, but I didn’t know what would be here. I also heard the waterfall but didn’t see one, so I thought it was worth a shot."

Denithir looked up. "You think he can get to us from above?"

Surprisingly Jack was the one to answer. "Most definitely."

They all looked at him and he shrugged. "If I could do it, I'm sure he could."

Taryn nodded at him. "If we are sure he will attack then we need a fire, fast. He could be here any minute."

"I'll go get some wood," Liri suggested bravely, but Taryn cut her off.

"No, it would take too long and would be too dangerous," he exclaimed.

Siarra gazed at the rim thirty feet up where some trees were in sight. "If one of you can get up there and get some wood, I can get a fire going."

Jack smirked and looked at Taryn. "Need a boost?" he offered, stooping down and cupping his hands together at his knee.

Although Taryn knew he could probably make the jump on his own, he accepted Jack’s offer and took the two steps to him in a rush. Placing his foot in the cupped hands, he leapt upwards, assisted by Jack's effort to launch him skyward. The two of them proved to be more than enough as he sailed ten feet above the rim and had to windmill his arms to keep his balance. Still unstable he managed to land in a crouch and scanned the darkness for a hint of their killer.

A low chuckle from Jack could be heard from below, but he ignored it and hurried to lop off thick branches with his father's sword. Blue magic glimmered as he sliced through enough wood to make several fires and dropped it to the ground below him. Finishing quickly, he hung from an outstretched branch and dropped, rolling to absorb the impact.

Light flickered around him as Siarra pulled the heat from the surrounding stone and focused it until the wood burst into flame. One by one she lit the piles around her until firelight chased every bit of darkness from their grotto.

She finished her work and turned to the group. "I will do what I can when he attacks, but I only have a fraction of my ability until tomorrow. You will have to depend on yourselves." She blew her breath out and added fervently, "But pray to whatever god you believe in, for we truly have little chance in this fight."

"Is that supposed to be
encouraging
?" Jack demanded.

"You can still leave whenever you want," the elven captain said fiercely with a hand on his short sword. "With help if necessary!"

Jack started to respond, but Siarra cut him off. "No! We need him in this, at least for his blade."

"Did you hear that?" he asked Denithir innocently. "She wants me to stay, and I bet there is more than one reason . . ."

She glowered at him, muttering something under her breath which only made his grin widen.

Liri looked at the thief and said in a deadly sweet voice that Taryn knew well, "You don't have to hide your fear with humor; we all know you are scared. But don't worry, we will protect you."

Apparently her comment hit home because he took a step towards her, anger darkening his face for the first time, but Taryn stepped between them in an instant.

As he glared at Jack and started to say something, a flicker of movement over the waterfall caught his eye. Turning, he saw the dark figure of Death rising out of the water behind Siarra, droplets cascading off his dark form. Already knowing it was too late, he cried out for her to move, trying to reach her in time. The scythe descended in a blur as she turned around, plunging itself deep—

—into Denithir's shoulder as he slammed into her, throwing her out of the way.

His effort saved her life, but cost him his. The elven captain fell with a bellow of anguish, mortally wounded, but knocking the Oracle into the rock wall. A crack echoed through their grotto when her head crashed into the stone and she slumped to the ground, still.

Taryn leapt towards Death with a cry of rage on his lips, with Jack only a step behind. The assassin met Taryn’s rush in kind, spinning his scythe to block his lightning blows. Remarkably, the thief joined the fight almost as fast as Taryn, a thin curving blade from his back in one hand and a dagger in the other. Four blades sought to strike the assassin down, but the red-veined weapon somehow managed to deflect everything that came its way.

Despite the assassin’s speed, the sheer force of their charge drove him backward, almost to the water's edge, before he finally stopped their efforts. For several furious moments the three of them battled, the ring of blows echoing in the enclosed grotto and amplifying the sound a hundredfold.

Suddenly Death spun sideways and whipped the shaft of his scythe out, striking Jack so hard he was knocked backward. Scrambling to stay upright, he tripped over Denithir's body. Death blew past Taryn and followed the thief down with the blade of his weapon. Unable to stop himself, the thief hit the ground hard and immediately tried to roll away, but the deadly scythe was too close.

The evil weapon plunged so deep into the man's side that it scraped stone underneath and his tunic instantly burst into bright crimson. Jack cried out in agony and writhed on the ground while Death withdrew his weapon to block Taryn's retaliating strike.

Liri abruptly joined the fight after seeing she was unable to revive Siarra. Her short sword bravely whipped in, but it was far slower than Death's or Taryn's speed.

"No!" Taryn cried as she attacked.

Almost lazily Death reached his scythe out to hit her—and at the same time revealing the length of the shaft to Taryn. In that split second Taryn knew two things: that it was an opening that Death had left on purpose, and that if he didn’t take it Liri would be dead.

He didn’t hesitate.

With all his strength he brought Mazer down on the shaft, sending a jarring shock through his hands and arms. Blue light flared as it came in contact with the wood, shattering right through the red-veined handle and sending a blast of energy outward. Taryn felt like he'd tried to cut through thick wood with a butter knife, and his arms ached from the blow, but he felt a moment of triumph as he saw the weapon in two pieces in Death's hands.

Triumph faded to despair as Death used the momentum of the blow to spin the remaining wood around and smash it into Taryn's right hand. Mazer flew from his grasp, landing several feet away, out of reach. Taryn immediately backed up and clenched his mother’s sword with both hands, but he knew the battle was over. Death had used Liri to force him into a move he couldn’t resist. Hope drained from his heart as he slipped the tip of Ianna out to block the incoming strikes.

As quick as thought, he whipped the katsana back and forth to parry blows from the weapon end of the scythe and the piece of the shaft while Liri struggled to slip past Death to reach Taryn's sword, but the assassin stayed firmly between them. When at last Taryn was able to draw him out enough for her to bolt past him, the assassin spun and threw the shaft piece. With a crack it hit her in the head and she dropped, her hand inches from Mazer's hilt.

Taryn roared at Death and struck with all his might, driving him back. Ianna may not have been as strong as his father's sword, but Death only had a fraction of his weapon, and Taryn knew how to use the two-handed katsana.

Death parried Taryn’s sweep and swung the scythe in a whirl meant to take his head. Ducking at the last second, Taryn leapt in, attempting to get inside Death’s guard—but the evil weapon snapped back and forced him away. Trying to throw Death off, he reversed Ianna along his forearm and flicked the tip out at his side. In an instant, the scythe blade crossed to block the blow. As it lowered, Taryn reached to his belt and threw one of his knives at his head.

Impossibly fast, Death twisted to the side and the knife passed a hairsbreadth from his cowl, clattering off the rock behind him. The burning coals that were his eyes seemed to pulse at the near hit and he charged Taryn. Hard pressed, Taryn didn’t even have time to bring Ianna back to its original hold for several seconds, and was left to block as he retreated. At last he had an opportunity when Death swung the scythe blade towards him, attempting to gut him. Jumping backwards he whipped Ianna back to hold it with both hands.

He growled and darted forward once more, trying not to think about the quiet forms that littered the grotto.

Death spun the remaining piece of his weapon with both hands, so fast it blurred in the air, while Taryn struggled to get past his defenses. After a moment the scythe flew out like quicksilver and he was forced to leap away. The instant he moved back, Death glided back as well, and before Taryn could stop him, he picked up the other piece of his weapon. Placing the broken pieces together the red veins pulsed and the wood knit together, whole once more.

Taryn morphed his mother’s sword to a bow and sent arrow after arrow towards Death, so fast that two arrows were in the air before the first one reached him. The full whirling scythe deflected the arrows into the rock around him, sending each embedding deep into stone. Arrows reached out towards Death as Taryn struggled to keep him at bay, knowing that once they closed again . . . it would be over.

Pinned, the assassin could only spin his weapon to deflect arrows until Taryn ran out. His red eyes burned, but he seemed patient to wait until Taryn launched his last arrow. Within ten seconds, the last arrow flew from Ianna and sped towards the impenetrable defense—

—Out of nowhere a dagger plunged into the back of Death's hood, the tip actually poking out where his face would have been. The whirling weapon stopped spinning as Death crumpled to his knees and an unholy screech pierced the night, so loud that Taryn had to cover his ears as it echoed and reechoed around the fire-lit grotto.

The scythe's veins pulsed violently red until suddenly the shaft exploded, throwing everyone backward. As Taryn bounced off the rock and landed on his knees, he watched the red coals inside the hood flicker and slowly go dark, watched as the cloak disintegrated into dust and crumpled before him.

Relief flooded him and he looked to see who had killed Death. His eyes widened at the sight of Jack Myst on his feet with the dagger still in his hand, looking at the pile of dust and fragments of dead wood that had been a supreme assassin only moments before.

"I thought you were dead!" Taryn said, shocked that Jack could stand with so much blood wetting his chest.

The thief shrugged like it was nothing and reached down to his side, pulling back the cloth to reveal that the weapon had penetrated the clothing but had barely grazed his skin.

"But the blood!" Taryn exclaimed with his mouth open. "I heard you cry out as you died!"

Jack reached into the hole in his tunic and pulled out a wineskin with a deep gash through it. "My favorite skin," he said sadly. "Pity, I will miss it. I had to put on a show, you know, and wait for the chance to strike."

Taryn shook his head, utterly flabbergasted. Then he remembered Liri. With a bound he crossed the intervening space and knelt at her side. Touching her throat, he sighed in relief to find a pulse, weak, but there. A glance to the side revealed that Siarra too was still breathing. Then he leapt to Denithir.

Crouching next to him, he was surprised to see him still alive. Instantly he tore a strip of cloth and began to put pressure on the gaping wound, but a feeble hand reached up to stop him. “Don’t . . . it doesn’t matter.” He coughed and nearly lost consciousness, but somehow had the strength to pull Taryn closer. “Tell . . . Eressa . . . I love her.”

Recognizing there was nothing he could do, Taryn blinked and spoke through the tightness in his throat. “I will.”

Denithir relaxed at his words and his eyes began to close. “I am sorry I doubted you Taryn.”

He watched as the elven captain took his last breath, and then succumbed to his wounds, leaving Taryn to his grief. Looking down on him, his heart rent in two.

How many would lose a father before the end? How many would grow up like him?

For the first time he saw more to his own life than a desire to find his family. Settling deep into his gut, a steel resolve to defeat this enemy spread through him. No more children would go fatherless because of him.

No more children would be alone because of him.

A stirring nearby yanked him from his thoughts, and he darted to Liri’s side. Carefully, he carried her to the water's edge and cupped water in his hands to drip onto her. After several endless minutes she coughed and her eyes fluttered.

"Er . . . wha' happened?" she slurred and tried to sit up, but he forced her to stay down.

"You were knocked out. I fought until Jack—who wasn’t really dead—managed to surprise and kill him."

"Really?" She was slowly coming to her senses, so he helped her sit up. "You didn’t kill him?" She seemed disappointed for some reason, but he smiled at her.

"Nope, all Jack," he said, flashing a weak smile.

Gratitude flooded him as he heard Siarra’s voice from close by. "Stupid thief." But her voice was kind, and he could tell she was smiling, too. Looking back, he saw Jack wiping her forehead with a wet cloth he’d torn from his shirt. Inexplicably, they both had goofy grins plastered across their features.

"I don't feel the fear anymore," Liri said next to him, and her flashing smile lightened the grotto more than the fire ever could.

In that moment, a feeling of intense hope surged through his frame, blossoming into a joy that brought tears to his eyes and wrapped his heart in a warm soft blanket. For the first time in weeks he was released from the cold chains of terror that Death had wrapped around him and he had to swallow at the overwhelming happiness.

"Neither do I, Liri. Neither do I," Taryn exclaimed, joy coloring his tone.

Liri suddenly started to laugh as elation flowed through her. Taryn, Siarra, and Jack joined her, all of them laughing. The light sound, restrained for so long, washed over each of them, cleansing the magical oppression that had yoked their emotions.