The Chronicles of Lumineia: Book 01 - Elseerian (41 page)

“How did you know where we were?” Mae asked.

The Oracle smiled. “We weren’t actually looking for you, but we were looking for the others. I could feel a multitude of people heading west, many of them mages, and we wanted to catch up with them. When we got close, Taryn and Liri recognized this ship so we came to you.” She leaned in. “Why are there so many people heading west anyway?”

Trin grimaced at the memory of the carnage at Terros. Briefly he described what they had seen. By the time he finished, they'd turned pale.

“Terros is gone? I can't believe it.” The Oracle seemed shocked and shook her head in confusion. “Something isn’t right. They weren’t ready . . . wait, that
might
give us more time.” She sighed, and for the first time Trin noticed how worn they all looked.

“Let’s get some sleep," he said firmly, ignoring his craving to know more. "I’m sure we can figure it out in the morning.”

Siarra yawned. "We should get to the coast of the elven homeland by tomorrow, or is that today?"

"Today of course," Jack exclaimed through a mouthful of food, and she glanced at him in irritation. Trin wondered who he was and where he fit into the picture. They hadn't been very clear about where he'd come from. Reluctantly, Trin ignored the impulse to ask and stood up. "I think it's time for bed, then."

Each of them nodded, so Trin led the new visitors to bunks or hammocks where they could sleep. As they settled into some spare beds, he nudged the Oracle. “Mind if I ride a wave like that sometime?”

She chuckled tiredly. “Sure,” she said as she lay down.

Before he even left the room, she was asleep, along with the rest of their party. Trin yawned and returned to his own bunk, expecting to fall asleep right away. But one thought kept repeating itself until he finally fell into a fitful sleep.

The assassin had been killed, but who destroyed Terros?

Chapter 26
:
Healing

Taryn kicked his heels into the horse again, urging his mount even faster. Beside and around him Siarra, Liri, Trin, Mae, Jack, and Braon, who was a surprisingly good rider, urged their animals faster as well. The only other person with them was the unconscious man from the ship, whom Siarra had insisted be brought along. He lay strapped to a spare animal behind them. As Taryn rode, he couldn’t imagine how they'd gone so far, so fast. Less than twenty-four hours ago they had been over a week's voyage from Tallendale, but the magical wind had pushed the
Sea Dancer
faster than it seemed possible. They'd sailed right past the refugees’ ships like they'd been anchored and arrived at an elven port that would give them the fastest route to Azertorn.

No one in their party clearly understood the Oracle's urgency to get to the city, but something in her firm lips and set face had convinced them that they had no time to waste. Upon disembarking, Siarra had literally
sprinted
to the stables, and grabbing a horse she'd bolted into the forest of Numenessee. The others had been right behind her, and within minutes of landing, the eight riders were pounding through the elven forest in a blur of green and brown, their horses’ unnatural gait informing Taryn that Siarra’s powers were still at work.

He glanced behind him and saw Braon holding onto his horse, his face tight with concentration as he rode high in the saddle. Siarra had also insisted the young man be brought with them, but hadn't taken the time to explain why—despite chafing at every delay as the pudgy young man tried to keep up with them.

Normally the trip between the elven port and the elven capital would have been at least a full day’s ride, but not four hours had passed before they reached the wide bridge between the magnificent waterfalls.

Siarra crossed the bridge at a full gallop with the seven of them right behind her. She reined in her horse at the last minute and dismounted even as it skidded to a stop. The surprised guards had their weapons out, but she spoke in the ringing tone of authority. "I am Siarra Kelrára Elseerian, the Oracle of the Elves. Send word to the queen immediately with your fastest runner to gather the high council."

They gaped at her for a moment until she barked, "Now!" and the elves jumped to do as they'd been told.

Jack dismounted from his steed, which still shook from the run, murmuring just loud enough for Taryn and Siarra to hear him, "Ah, the voice of a powerful woman."

She bristled, and unseen energy seemed to crackle around her. The thief only chuckled and handed the reins of his winded horse to one of the elves coming out to meet them.

"Gather the human and carry him with us," she commanded an elf hurrying towards them. It was obvious she partially meant Jack, but the elf went to the unconscious human and gingerly began to unstrap him.

Taryn dropped to the ground and hurried to gather his things before following them into the city, admitting to himself it felt good to enter the citadel through the front door—and without the fear that had prevailed during the last visit. The presence of compassion and hope in its place felt so strong it brought a smile to his lips.

Behind him, Taryn heard Braon gasp as he came through the secret doors. The boy began pounding Trin with questions, but Trin shrugged and suggested he ask Taryn. The young man huffed to catch up to Taryn and redirected his flow of queries in his direction. Surprised by Braon’s immediate grasp of the impressive strategic layout and defensive capabilities of the lower barracks, Taryn answered him as well as he could. But when Liri joined in the conversation, he let her take over. She certainly knew more about the fortress than he did.

As they were led through the lower levels of Azertorn, he could tell Trin in particular wanted to know more about the city, but he didn’t get a chance to ask many questions with the group hurrying to follow Siarra. Surprisingly, Jack didn’t seem at all curious about Azertorn . . . perhaps he'd already been here? Taryn suppressed a laugh as he realized the better question was, how many
times
had Jack been in Azertorn, and how much had he
stolen
? For a brief moment Taryn remembered the queen of the elves telling them about a thief they couldn’t catch.

The next surprise came when Siarra led them, not straight to the palace, but rather to
The Drunken Elf
. Without hesitation, she walked right through the doors and up to the bar where Aléthya stood lazily wiping a glass. At this time of day there were only a couple of soldiers in the tavern, drinking their day away.

"I need your help," the Oracle exclaimed to Aléthya.

Aléthya eyed her with an amused expression, her brown hair shimmering in the sunlight that streamed through the open windows. "You're the Oracle," she stated, not even bothering to stop cleaning glasses. "I knew your mother, you know."

Taryn was suddenly aware that the Oracle who had helped Aléthya had been
his
mother as well, so he barely heard his sister’s response.

"Yes, and I need you to heal someone." Siarra's voice softened. "It is of the utmost importance."

“Couldn’t you do it yourself?” Aléthya’s question held no rancor.

Siarra grimaced and admitted. “Healing magic has always been a weakness of mine. His wounds are beyond my ability.”

For some reason Taryn couldn’t explain, he felt like the fate of the world rested on Aléthya's response, and he found himself holding his breath for the answer. Knowing how she felt about healing people, he didn’t have much hope, but after several agonizing seconds where the two locked eyes, the healer shrugged and put down the glass.

"I am at your service, Oracle." Aléthya inclined her head in a demonstration of the utmost respect and came out from behind the counter. "Who is it?"

Siarra waved for the human to be brought forward and laid on a table. "I don't know who he is. I just know we need answers, and he is the only one that has them."

The man looked wretched, his face gray and drawn, his leg streaked with dark black, and when Taryn helped lay him on the table he could feel the cold, clammy skin.
Death's door is already open for this poor soul
, he thought.

Aléthya drew in a breath and leaned over him, murmuring so quietly to herself that even Taryn's sharp ears had a hard time hearing.

"Poison . . . that's for sure . . . what kind? Something dark . . . a magical poison? . . . it must be. . . wounded in several places, but the leg . . . hmm . . . the source was here . . . something struck him here . . . something deadly . . ." She trailed off and stood straight. Without looking at anyone, she sighed to herself, "This is going to hurt." Then she turned to Taryn and Liri. "Hold me up so I don’t fall—and don’t let go no matter what happens."

Without waiting for an answer, Aléthya took another deep breath and placed both hands on the leg. White light immediately shimmered through her hands and into the man's leg. Several seconds passed before anything happened, but then the gray lines reluctantly began to recede. At the same moment, the healer cried out in agony and her right leg buckled.

Taryn and Liri caught her in an instant, but it only got worse. The gray lines grew lighter and lighter as they disappeared, only to reappear on Aléthya's body, darker and longer. Blood also began to drip onto the floor as her flesh split. Frozen in place, they could only watch as her body began to tremble and shake under their arms, but the white light continued to transfer the wound from the man’s body to hers. She screamed again, a cry of pure anguish, and then slumped into their arms.

Taryn lifted her feather light form and laid her on another table as everyone gathered around.

"Do something!" someone said to Siarra, but she shook her head.

"I cannot; there is nothing I can do."

Taryn swallowed hard and was about to say something, but the gray on the leg slowly, ever so slowly, began to lighten and disappear. It took a full five minutes for the death lines to completely recede and the wound in her thigh to knit. With a gasp she sat up and took a few deep breaths.

"Are you OK?" Liri asked, worry etched in her voice.

"I'm fine; just give me a minute," she said hoarsely as she massaged her leg. Then without a word she jumped down and moved to her bar. Slopping amber liquid into a glass she drained it with a wince. After another moment she gave a small smile. "I'm OK, but I can honestly say it would have been less painful to tear my leg off piece by piece and then grow a new one.” She shuddered at some memory and asked, “How did he get hurt anyway?"

A deep voice behind them answered: "The assassin came for me."

They all turned to see the human sitting up on the table. For the first time he looked alive, and he was quick to stand and test his legs.

"Well
that
chicken soup definitely helped," Trin said with a grin.

The man snorted in agreement. "Who healed me?" His said, his voice dead and raspy.

Aléthya stepped forward and moved to stand in front of him. "I did. You had been poisoned by something dark."

"
How
did you heal me?"

Aléthya smiled wryly. "Technically, I didn’t. I transferred your wound to my own body, and then I healed myself."

The man dropped to his knees and kissed her hand, exclaiming in a voice choked with emotion, "I am deeply sorry for the pain you must have had to endure for me . . . thank you, my lady."

For a moment there was silence as everyone in the room began to understand the depth of the man's pain over the past few weeks.

 Siarra finally stepped forward. "What is your name, sir?"

The man rose and looked at her, his frame strong and tall once more. "I am Ryben, the woodsman of the East, a tracker and guide for all eastern villages . . ." His face turned grim. ". . . at least until Griffin was invaded and Terros annihilated."

Trin opened his mouth to say something, but Siarra cut him off. "I am Siarra Elseerian, the Oracle of the elves. There is much we must know, and precious little time. It would be best if you only explain this once today, to the high council of the elves."

Ryben nodded and said simply, "Lead the way." He gestured for the Oracle to walk in front of him and fell into step the moment she swept past him. In an instant she returned to her desire to hurry and began to lengthen her stride. The others struggled to keep up with her magically enhanced steps as she headed towards the top of the city.

They hastened to the palace and Liri led them through the main entrance and up a huge stone staircase covered in greenery. Once again Taryn couldn’t help but be amazed at the sheer volume of flowers and other vegetation growing out of the very walls and floors.

She led them through corridors and guarded openings deep into the plateau until they finally came to a wide set of ornately carved doors. Two guards nodded at Liri and ushered them through. Entering the room, they saw several older elves already seated on chairs of beautiful curving trees surrounding a massive stone table in the shape of an oval. Each elf, dressed in formal clothes showing their rank, studied them as they came into view, and Taryn immediately felt self-conscious of his torn and dirty travelling clothes.

As the Oracle approached the table, she beckoned to a guard and when he moved close to her, she whispered quietly, "Summon the arch historian from the archives." He bowed and left the room.

Drawing near to the table she stopped and looked directly at the queen seated at the head. The other five members of the high council sat around her, but it seemed Siarra disregarded their presence.

"My queen," she said in a ringing tone, "there is no time for formalities. We have six weeks, three days, and fourteen hours to prevent the inevitable.”

"What do we face?" The queen asked solemnly.

Siarra shook her head, and for the first time since Taryn had met her he saw unparalleled terror sweep across her features.

She breathed out slowly and said simply, "
Extinction
."

Despite her quiet tone, the word echoed through the chamber like a thunderclap, stunning everyone to silence. After several long moments someone managed to gasp, "Of the elves?"