The Chronicles of Lumineia: Book 02 - The Gathering (23 page)

Leaning
forward he began to lay out his plan. At first Taryn thought the idea was impossible,
but when he took into consideration the superstitious nature of the orcs and
gnomes, it appeared . . . plausible. If it were going to have a chance though,
they had a great deal to do before dawn . . .

*****

Taryn sank
deeper into the shadows next to the temple, wondering if their plan was mad. In
his life he’d known few superstitious people, and their plan banked on two entire
races believing an illusion. Grateful that his role was small, Taryn wondered
again how Siarra could perform what she and Talfar had concocted.

Glancing
skyward again he caught the first hint of daylight approaching and waited for
the signal. A sudden blast of wind swept through the city, marking the start of
their plan. Increasing in breadth and strength, the furious blast of air rolled
through the city of Ryazan, blowing out every open flame. As if timed, light
gathered on the horizon, but Taryn knew it to be Siarra simulating the dawn.

Cries of alarm
and fear echoed around the city as orcs and gnomes alike began to pray.
Glancing out from the darkened recess where he hid, he spotted several orcs in
the street prostrating themselves on the ground. Without warning the fake dawn
melted into darkness at the same time the wind ceased. Then a deep voice exploded
throughout the city and surrounding region. His voice amplified by Siarra’s
touch, Trin began to speak his lines.

“
My little
children, a darkness is coming that will wipe out the flame of your existence
as easily as the wind
.” Trin’s voice drifted across the area like a
dangerous caress. Not overly loud, it touched every ear and struck every heart.
As Trin continued to describe the impending destruction, the sound within the
city began to swell. Faster and faster the chaos of frightened orcs and gnomes
rose until it exploded into a fury.

Trin’s words
ended and the terrified people of the city rushed to the only place they could
think of for understanding, the temple. Flooding from all directions, the orcs
and gnomes scrambled into the large square in front of the sacred edifice. The
high priest gnome with most of his guards swept from the temple and raised his
hands for silence. From Taryn’s vantage point, he saw the high priest’s
expression as he looked around the mob crying out for direction. Somehow he’d
managed to hide his fear but confusion had leaked onto his features.

After several
minutes the noise began to diminish and the high priest stepped forward. In a
flash Taryn raised his mother’s bow and sent an arrow streaking over the
eastern wall, out of view from any onlookers. A second later Trin’s voice
boomed, more intense than before, just as the high priest opened his mouth.

“You must
leave my children, and gather with the other races in the west. Join them, and
survive the coming destruction, or remain in the north and perish.”

The mob erupted
into chaos with both races screaming for understanding. Some looked upward for
answers but most looked to the high priest, who opened his mouth again. With
his composure cracking under the pressure, he raised his voice and gaze to the
heavens, “How soon should we leave?”

Taryn thought
a moment, chose one of the predetermined responses, and then sent three arrows
over the wall in quick succession. After a moment the voice boomed over the
inhabitants of the city:
“Immediately!”
The crowd cowered to the ground.
“If you wish to survive you must evacuate this very day!
”

The high
priest raised his hands skyward. “But how is this possible?”

Taryn almost
laughed at the response that came as Talfar had predicted, almost to the word.
Raising his bow once more, he sent two arrows over the wall.

“
Fools
!”
Trin cried, his voice furious. “
Your king will lead you to the gathering!”

Just then the
rays of the real dawn broke the horizon and Trin’s voice boomed one last time.
“
To stay means eternal darkness. If you need further proof you will find the
Ocleon returned to its resting place in the great hall of my temple. Go now
before you perish
.”

Taryn grinned
to himself. Of course the sacred stone was back. Jack had returned it while
everyone had been distracted. A scrape on stone below him caused him to look
down and see the thief’s form scaling the wall. Reaching the top he said, “It’s
done. Now let’s be gone before anyone suspects this has all been a trick.”

Taryn agreed
heartily and the two of them darted to the back of the temple. Reaching the
ropes that Liri had tied to the battlements, they scaled the rough bricks to
the deserted wall top. As soon as they were over, they pulled the ropes up and
lowered them on the outside of the city. With a sweep of his hand Taryn looped
them over the tops of the logs that comprised the outer wall while Jack kept
watch.

Jumping over,
they slid down the ropes. As soon as they were both safe, Taryn shot two arrows
into the knots at the top. Jack leapt forward to retrieve the falling cords and
within moments they were fading into the trees to circle south. Picking up Mae
and Liri, who’d passed on the arrow messages to Trin and Siarra, they found the
Oracle and Trin ready to depart. Taryn glanced one last time at the city behind
him and sent a prayer skyward that their plan would work.

Mounting his
horse, he dug his heels in and galloped back to the eastern trail they had been
following. With the pace set by Siarra, they covered several miles before she
slowed them down for a moving breakfast. Reaching for his pack, Taryn grabbed a
piece of salted meat and began to eat.

Trin was the
first to begin laughing, but it quickly spread to all of them.

Chapter
18: Unknown Hero

Draif reached
for the brush and hurried to rub down his horse. At best he had another ten
minutes with the only thing that mattered to him. By then his father would be
home and make him do other chores. Not for the first time he wondered what he
would do next year when he turned eighteen and could leave the dank village
known as Desekrin.

Thin and
short, Draif was good at one thing, riding. Twice a year when the villages in
the southeast held games of sport, Draif won every horse race event—and
had
won since he was nine. His skill with a horse had also been the sole reason the
people in the village hadn’t forced him to join their wretched talks about
dethroning king Drayson, but they never stopped trying to convince him. Just
yesterday, when smoke had billowed up to the north of them, three people had pressured
him to join their conspiracy.

“Draif, my
boy,” the blacksmith had said, “that smoke could mean that someone has finally
stood up to our fool king, and if we are to survive we have to join with
whichever party will be the victor—especially if it means destroying this
forsaken kingdom.”

Draif shook
his head, causing his brown hair to fall into his eyes. He just couldn’t
imagine believing such a thing, particularly when many of the villagers actively
promoted the idea of joining with anyone causing destruction. Draif didn’t
think Talinor was so bad, even if the taxes were a little higher than Griffin’s.
Unfortunately, his older brothers and father were principals in the
complaining, his mother having passed away when he was young.

Afraid of
being whipped, he'd kept his own thoughts hidden, but their sullen ideas made
him sick. There were many good things about Talinor, and its king, but the
people of Desekrin were too focused on the detractions to notice. He frowned
and wondered where he would go when he came of age. Bound until then, Draif
tried to enjoy the only thing he loved, his horse Bose. A huge white stallion
that he had saved for three years to buy, Bose was the fastest horse in the
southeast, and Draif believed, the entire world of Lumineia. Only the older
brother to Bose could have matched him, but Zel had been sold to a soldier in
Griffin years ago.

A sudden
squeak from the broken front door made him sigh and pat his horse. His father had
returned, and would be angry if he was still out here. Putting the brush away
he slipped from the shabby barn and strolled towards the leaning house.
Entering, he was surprised to find everyone in the front room, listening to his
father speak excitedly.

“Two men are
here, claiming to be from the fifty-second cavalry. They told us that an army
is invading and destroying the king's men. They should be here soon!”

The hopeful
expressions on his family’s faces churned Draif’s stomach but he fought to keep
the disappointment off his face, knowing it would cause an argument.

“How soon did
they say the army will arrive?” Draif asked, working to keep his tone neutral.

His father’s
face lit up. “They said they were only twenty or thirty minutes behind of
them.”

Like a
physical blow had struck him, Draif realized his family would never change. He
had tried to ignore the signs, and believe they could adjust, but for some
reason today it clicked. The family he belonged to was not a family he wanted.

Abusive, mean,
and sullen, they were rotten to the core. Looking back, he noticed that his
father and brothers had been tolerable only when Draif won races, and the glint
in his father's eyes as he took Draif's winnings hung in his mind. The
revelation caused him to stare at his father, and although he couldn't explain
how, he knew that this moment had been building for some time.

It was time
for him to leave.

He felt a
pounding in his chest. Was he ready to do this? Was he ready to run? His father
was not the type to let something get away, especially something that gave him
gold. Was he prepared to go as far as it took?  With a start he saw that he
was, and that the two soldiers might be able to help. If an army was coming, he
was going to need it.

“Are they
still here?” he asked, reminding himself that he wasn't free yet.

His father
gestured towards the village impatiently. “Perhaps. They decided to wait a
couple of minutes to speak to the mayor. Apparently they are on some mission
from the king.” His derisive tone when he mentioned King Drayson made Draif almost
lose control.
You are all crazy!
he thought.
And it will get you
killed
.

“I’m going to
go see them,” Draif said, and his father pointed outside.

“Take my horse
or they will want Bose,” he ordered. “They were demanding fresh horses.”

The young man
nodded and slipped out of the room. Sprinting to the barn he yanked his racing
saddle off the horn and threw it onto Bose. With practiced hands he cinched the
belt and grabbed a cloak. In less than a minute he mounted and wheeled the
white horse out of the barn.

A door slammed
behind him and he heard a cry of protest. Ignoring it, he urged his horse to a
faster pace. Normally at this point he would be enjoying the wind in his hair
and the feeling of the powerful animal carrying him forward, but not this time.
If
his father had spoken truthfully, then only one emotion made sense,
fear.

Yet at the
same time he felt an emotion he had never felt before, the sensation of being
inside a trap that was about to snap shut. Urging Bose to greater speed, he
felt the powerful animal thunder across the ground and tried not to focus on
the feeling of foreboding.

In less than
five minutes he reached the town square and reined his horse in. Before Bose
had even stopped moving Draif was on the ground and inside the tavern. Scanning
the gloomy interior, he saw only familiar faces, so he dashed to the bartender.

“Where are the
messengers from the king?” Draif asked, desperation creeping into his voice.

“They left a
minute ago, heading east," he said, jerking his head in that direction.
"They said something about trying to get around the southern tip of the
army.” He growled and added, “They took two of my horses without paying.”

Draif leapt
towards the door, barely hearing the bartender’s parting words.

“We are going
to gather outside to welcome them if you want to join us . . .”

Draif stepped to
his horse’s side and yanked himself into the saddle. Grasping the reins he
stopped when he heard a bell chime. In moments villagers began gathering in the
street.

“Are they
here?”

“Who are they?”

“Anyone see
them?”

The excited
voices bubbling up on every side made his insides knot, and out of the corner
of his eye he saw his father and brother ride into view on their own horses.
The black look clouding his father’s face meant a severe whipping for Draif,
but he found his terror of the attackers much more than his fear of his
father’s staff.

Someone
shouted from the northern side of the village and everyone began moving in that
direction, talking in excited tones. Momentarily forgetting his son’s
transgression, his father joined the crowd.

“This isn't
right!” Draif shouted in desperation, but received glares in response.

Moments later
he saw shadows flashing through the trees of Darkwood. Helpless, Draif sat rooted
to his saddle and could only watch as the villagers raised their hands in
welcome, many of them calling out a greeting.

A heartbeat
later their shouting turned to screams as twisted black creatures bounded out
of the trees and pounced. At first the people of Desekrin froze, stunned into
immobility as the foremost were brutally slain. Then the dark horde hurtled
towards the rest and they turned to run, screaming for their lives. If the
black beings heard the cries for mercy, they gave no sign. Near the end, giant
black dogs appeared, and darted through the massacre to drag the runners to
their deaths.