The Chronicles of Lumineia: Book 02 - The Gathering (19 page)

“You called .
. .?” she began, but trailed off as she caught sight of the confused dwarf.

Braon smiled
and again felt drawn to the young woman. “Brynn, this is Onix, general of the
West Falls battalion. You are to be his Link.” Turning to the dwarf, whose
mouth hung open, Braon explained. “They are a telepathic family. I am placing
one member with each general and myself so we can communicate efficiently.”

“But she’s
just a child!” Onix protested.

Brynn’s face
clouded, but she held true to her training and allowed Braon to answer. “We
both know that communication is critical in battle. Her mind is linked to her
fathers, so you can speak to her and the message will be transmitted to me
almost instantly. With our twenty-mile defenses, this is not only important,
it’s essential. From here on she is to remain by your side at every waking
moment, and close by at night. There are two veteran elves tasked with her
protection, but you will assign at least four of your own men, and you will
guard her with your life.” His voice was harder than he’d intended, but Onix
got the message and he bowed, a twinkle in his eye that almost caused Braon to
flush.

“I will not
allow harm to befall her, Commander,” Onix said.

“Speak to me
through her whenever you need me, and be prepared for me to pass you messages
as well. When the battle nears, we will begin training with you and the other
generals so all of us may work together as a cohesive unit.”

“Are there any
other generals?” Onix asked.

“Deiran will
command the Azertorn defenses, but we still need five.”

The dwarf
nodded. “I have my orders, and I will begin at once.”

“Give me an
update through your Link at least once a day,” Braon said as his new general
turned to depart, and Onix gave a curt nod before strolling from the room.
Brynn cast Braon a worried look, but he smiled reassuringly and she followed
him out the door.

As soon as
they were gone, Thacker stepped into the room. “Brynn says she is grateful you
placed her with the dwarves.”

Braon nodded
and released a slow breath. He’d found one of his six generals, but it felt like
such a tiny step. There was so much to do and so little time, and he needed his
other leaders a week ago. Already each of the six battalions contained at least
twenty thousand men, with two boasting over fifty thousand. Women and older
children were working long days to make arrows and prepare food and clothing.

Sighing at the
complexity of his task, he said, “Go get some lunch, Thacker. I know you were
waiting for me, but go get something for yourself.”

The man
hesitated before shaking his head. “I am attached to you, every moment, of
every day, as you trained me. I will wait outside until you are ready.” He then
slipped out the door before Braon could argue with him.

A smile spread
across the young man’s features.
It’s good to know some things are working
,
he thought. For the past two weeks Braon had worked intensively with Thacker
and his children, drilling their role into them. Some of the more responsible
youths had taken to it well, and even seemed excited. The twins and Daq still
needed work though, and he hoped he had enough time to train them before he
found more generals. Each of them needed to be prepared before he assigned
them. More than the others, he prayed that Brynn would be watched over.

Glancing at
his makeshift model he felt a wave of gratitude. The dwarven artisans would do
a tremendous job with their stone working skills, and he had no doubt that each
of those defenses would be finished on time. “Never doubt a dwarven smith,” his
father used to say, and the thought made him sad. He still did not know if his
family had been killed when Terros had been destroyed, but he held no
illusions.

Grief would
come later . . . when they had time—and
if
they survived.

Chapter
15: Prince

Braon snapped
awake to pounding on his door and rubbed his eyes. Hurriedly he slid from his
bed and pulled on some pants. A glance at the window showed it to be before
dawn. For a moment his heart seized,
have they come early
? With a grunt
he shook the irrational thought from his mind and yanked a shirt on.

He opened the
door to reveal Rokei, who said, “Prince Graden of the southern kingdom has just
arrived. Newhawk is with him and wishes to speak with you.”

“Give me a
moment, and rouse Thacker.” Closing the door he tied on shoes and finished
getting ready, selecting a dark blue tunic and trading for black pants. He
needed to look his rank, but not overly so. A quick check in the mirror and he
frowned, his hair stuck up in odd places. Using some water from a pitcher, he
wet his hair until it stayed in place. Then he grabbed a piece of sweet fruit
and crammed a few bites into his mouth to take away any bad breath.

Ready to greet
the prince, he opened the door again and moved down the hall to Thacker’s room,
adjacent to his. As soon as Thacker joined him, they followed Rokei as he led
him out of the house of Runya and into the cool morning streets. Braon followed
the soft-footed elf and took the time to compose his thoughts, which were still
scrambled from the abrupt awakening.

He’d heard
about the southern kingdom’s royal family from the arriving humans. King
Drayson, renowned as a kind and intelligent ruler, had lost his wife to a fever
a year after their second son had been born. Prince Anders, the eldest, had
been described by numerous southerners to be an exceptional warrior, strong and
fast. Prince Graden had been depicted as shorter, but resembling his brother in
good looks. Smart and quick witted, he was not quite as good with a weapon, but
was far superior with his mind—and he played Stratos.

Strolling
through the First Great Hall that comprised the first tier of Azertorn, Braon
moved past the training rings and other practice gear. Even this early in the
day he saw countless sparring matches and training instructions all around him,
and as per his instructions, many human soldiers were participating.

Reaching the
First Pillar, a massive column fifty feet across and a hundred feet tall that
housed the captain of the first Legion, Rokei slowed and led Braon into the
first level. Weapons lined the walls and numerous guards were stationed around
the circular space. On one side, a curving staircase led upward. Across from
Braon a large, heavy portcullis had been raised and humans from the south were
streaming through the opening, splitting off to the left and right as the
guards directed their path.

Braon smiled.
Newhawk had performed exactly as they had discussed. As the people were
evacuated from the southern and eastern kingdoms, they were guided through the
forest of Numenessee, which spread south from the city. Arriving at Azertorn,
the guards outside separated men into groups of a hundred, and assigned them to
one of the six battalions on the cliff. Then they were led through the city to
the top of the Giant’s Shelf, and taken to their command to be presented to
their temporary commanding officer. Their families went with them.

Within hours,
the sister elves under the direction of the queen and Liri’s mother, Lariel,
took a count of men, women, and children as well as an inventory of their
goods. Small babes and a few caretakers for them were then selected and led to
the caverns behind Azertorn where they would remain during the battle. Although
many left the caverns and joined their families during the day, they were
required to return at night. Braon wanted every person to know the route to
their post intimately.

Nodding in
satisfaction at the smooth order before him, he turned and followed Rokei up
several flights of stairs to one of the highest rooms in the First Pillar.
Coming around the last corner, he saw Seath, Thacker's oldest son, standing
outside a door with his bodyguard. Nodding at Newhawk’s Link, Braon indicated
for Thacker to remain outside with his son. Opening the door, he stepped
through the portal to be greeted by Newhawk.

“Commander,
thank you for coming,” Newhawk said, and introduced him to the other person in
the room. “Commander Braon, this is Prince Graden of the southern realm of
humans.” Neither of them spoke after the druid finished and Braon waited for
the prince, who appeared confused, to speak first.

“But you’re
just a boy,” the prince said, and Braon was glad he heard surprise rather than
derision.

Braon flashed
a wry smile and said, “Fifteen actually, but called to the role by the Oracle
and placed in service by the queen of the elves.”

Prince Graden
shook his head as he tried to understand. “So you,” he pointed at the young
man, “are going to lead us to victory?”

“Unfortunately
victory is not possible,” Braon answered, his voice calm and composed. “But
delaying our defeat until Draeken is destroyed is what we hope to achieve. If
he is slain, his army will be withdrawn back to their realm.”

The prince
furrowed his brow. “That is what I have heard, whispered by strong men and
women alike. I also saw my father touch the orb sent by the Oracle, but I have
to admit I have my doubts.”

Newhawk
coughed, “The Oracle has stated as much, and I heard it from her own lips. I
also saw it when she gave me a glimpse of her vision. If I had not believed it then,
I would have after reading the ancient records of the elves. They describe in
disturbing detail the first time Draeken attempted to slaughter us.”

“Wait,” Prince
Graden said, raising a hand in astonishment. “The ancient holocaust that
divided the human kingdoms, it’s happening again?”

“From what we
have gleaned from the records," Braon said, doing his best not to fidget. "Draeken
sent his army then as he has now. East of the lake everyone perished, the elves
were fleeing for their lives across the southern lands and anyone too slow was
overtaken.”

“Yes, I know
the legend,” Graden said, “but no one knew who did it. The invaders vanished
without a trace and no one could identify the source.”

“Draeken, the
demigod of chaos, was the source,” Braon explained. “Few knew that a few months
prior to the holocaust, the oracle of the age sent a powerful warrior to
destroy Draeken. Lakonus, said to be born of elves, humans, and dwarves, was
prophesied to be the only one capable of slaying Draeken. We now know that he
did not succeed in his quest, but rather imprisoned Draeken in a manner we do
not understand.”

The prince
blew out his breath and moved to a window. Leaning on the sill for a moment, he
seemed lost in thought before he spun on his heel. “If the tales of the ancient
holocaust are even close to true, than we are all lost.”

Newhawk
chuckled dryly, startling the prince. “We have our own Oracle, and more time to
prepare than our ancestors had. There is also another person with lineage of
the three races that is on his way to slay Draeken.”

“How do you
know he will succeed where Lakonus failed?” the prince challenged.

“We don’t,”
Braon said, and then shrugged. “But it’s not in our nature to lie down and die.
I am sure there are a few that are foolish, and will perish because they refuse
to join the gathering. But most of the races will either be driven to gather
with us, or come of their own accord when invited.”

“Like us,”
Graden stated.

“The ones who
come early stand the greatest chance of surviving, and many of your people will
live because of your faith and foresight.”

“Because of my
father’s
faith and foresight,” Graden corrected. “He is the one who
believed and began the evacuation of Talinor.”

“Where is your
father?” Newhawk asked.

“He and my
brother took five hundred of our best cavalry. They intend to delay the
invasion by razing forests and destroying bridges.”

“With their
numbers, it may not do much," Braon said, "but it is exceptionally
brave and will no doubt save many lives.”

The prince
sighed. “So what is the plan now,
if
I accept this young man to lead my
people?”

Braon studied
the man before him, trying to think of the best way to convince him to trust him.
His instincts told him that the prince was ideal for a general, and he
desperately needed a human one. The man demonstrated humility, and held no
qualms about relinquishing leadership to someone that he believed in. A flick
of his eyes to Newhawk when he’d said
if
showed he would follow
Newhawk—but the fact that the strong druid accepted Braon was not enough for
the prince.

While Braon thought,
the prince’s lips twitched as if he were resisting the urge to smile. The
movement seemed oddly familiar, and Braon sifted through memories trying to
identify what it reminded him of. A smile blossomed on his face when the memory
popped into his mind. “I hear you play Stratos, Prince Graden. Is that
accurate?”

 “Yes," Graden
grinned. "It’s how I practice strategy like everyone else, but what does
that have to do with anything?”

“Are you any
good?” Braon pressed.

The prince’s
grin widened, but his expression betrayed his confusion. “I prefer not to
boast, but I have rarely lost.”

“Did you ever
lose in a tournament to a boy?” Braon asked, his voice quiet.

The prince
started and focused on the young man. “It can’t be . . .” he exclaimed. “That
kid did things on the board that I had never seen.”

Braon allowed
a small smile. “I have lost some weight since then.” Prince Graden stared at
him before bursting into laughter, and Braon didn’t miss the subtle appraising
look from Newhawk as well.

“It’s you! I
can’t believe it,” Graden exclaimed. “I saw you demolish my pieces like . . .
like you were
inside my head
!” He threw his hands in the air and shook
his head, adding, “I remember thinking that if you ever led an actual army you
would be unstoppable, but no one would ever follow you if all they saw was an
overweight boy.”