The Chronicles of Lumineia: Book 02 - The Gathering (28 page)

Siarra bowed
low. “Thank you, Kythira, for your hospitality.”

Tryton nodded,
getting right to the point. “What is the great evil that you spoke of?”

Beginning at
the start of their tale, Siarra detailed the fight and slaying of the assassin
known as Death, and then continued on to explain the revelations about Draeken.
She then told of the elven war council and the decision to gather the races. As
she went on to tell of the beginnings of the gathering, not a single troll
moved an inch. Each waited, stone faced, until she finished.

After a moment
of stunned silence, Tryton unfolded his arms and asked, “What is it you want
from us?”

“Join the
gathering,” Siarra said, “and bring every warrior you can, as well as those of
your people not trained in battle.”

“Rock trolls
are
all
trained for battle,” Kaber sneered.

“But some of
the lesser clans of trolls are not,” Solus said in response, and Kaber growled but
didn't dispute the statement.

Kythira chewed
on her lip, her brow crinkled in thought. “
If
we were to do this, it
would mean gathering the clans, which has never been done before, and leave our
homeland defenseless in order to help protect people who mean nothing to us.”

Siarra shook
her head and said, “You don’t understand. The people you have never met will be
protecting
you
, not the other way around.”

Furious, Kaber
threw his arms out. “Rock trolls need no protection from anyone, least of all
humans and elves!”

Solus jumped
in, sweeping his large hand towards them. “If what she says is true, then it
wouldn’t matter how much we have trained. We
would
be overrun.”

Kaber growled
and stomped a few steps away before he whirled with a triumphant expression.
“Then we must know if what they speak is the truth. If it is, we gather the
clans and leave. If it is not, then they will be thrown in the pit.”

His statement
sparked a wide variety of reactions. Most of the rock trolls seemed angry, or
at least irritated. Solus and Kythira appeared furious, with both launching
into a stream of the guttural troll language. The lone exception of all the
large warriors was Tryton, whose expression conveyed . . . sorrow.

After a heated
exchange between Kaber, Kythira, and Solus, Tryton stopped them with a single
look. “Kaber speaks the truth. It is the law.”

Kythira opened
her mouth to protest but Tryton’s deep voice rose in volume, “Bring the
hourglass.”

As Kell again
slipped out of the bowl, Solus moved next to Tryton and began speaking in his
ear with his back to them. His intense emotions overrode his attempt to keep
his voice low, so Taryn managed to catch snatches of his argument with his
sharp ears.

“—
must be
crazy! By Skorn’s blade they don’t stand a . . . and if you fight one of . . .
just kill them. Then they . . . all die in the pit. It will be a slaughter . .
. you know it. Please . . . some other way
—”

Tryton shook
his huge head and replied in a normal tone, “I’m sorry Solus, but our laws
maintain our peace.”

Taryn didn’t
get a chance to listen to the rest of the conversation as rock trolls began materializing
from every opening. In moments their hulking forms lined the battlements three
deep with the trolls that had been in the bowl backing against the walls. An
uneasy feeling settled into the pit of Taryn’s stomach as the host of people
looked down on Taryn and his friends, watching . . . and waiting.

Looking around
at his friends Taryn saw them shifting and swallowing, eyes darting in every
direction—even Jack. Taryn caught Siarra’s eye and saw her worried frown as she
shook her head slightly.
This is not good
, he thought.
Even Siarra
and Jack are rattled
.

Kell burst
into the bowl carrying a large sand hourglass and moved to stand next to
Tryton. The troll king nodded when he saw him and looked back at Siarra.
“Choose your finest warrior to be tested in single combat. Doubt is erased if
he is the victor, or alive, when the last sand hits the bottom. Defeat will
mean you have lied, and will cost the warrior his life.”

Siarra’s brow
furrowed and she took a breath to keep her composure, “Who will our champion
have to fight?”

Tryton reached
back and drew his massive sword. “Me.”

Chapter 22: Unyielding and Undefeated

“So who gets
to die?” Jack said as they huddled to talk.

“No one,”
Siarra replied. “Unless you are volunteering . . .”

Taryn’s breath
caught when Jack snorted and stabbed a finger at him. “
He’s
the only one
that might last more than a few seconds.”

Shaking his
head, Taryn said, “I don’t know. I’ve never fought something like this before.”

Liri nudged
him from the side. “I'm not sure this is a good idea.”

He threw a
look at her tight expression. Her thin eyebrows pulled together as she gave him
a tiny shake of her head. Then she swallowed and looked away.

Trin coughed
and swallowed. “I don't stand a chance. I mean, I know my skills, but there is
no way. His weapon would probably shatter mine on first contact anyway.” Then
he took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. “But I am willing if that is
what is necessary.”

Mae spoke
first, beating out Taryn’s attempt to protest. “Not a chance, Trin. You are
good, but I am better. I’ll take him.”

“Wait,” Siarra
said. “I think I could get us out of this fortress, but once outside we would
have to run, and we would lose our horses.”

As his friends
argued over that possibility, Taryn studied the king, looking past the battle
stance and huge weapon and into his eyes. The gaze returned to him held so much
sadness that he almost flinched. It came as no surprise that he had no idea why
the troll king would feel such an emotion. He frowned at the sudden sense of
irritation. Perhaps Liri could explain it? But they were too busy arguing. Then
a thought crossed his mind that he hadn't considered before.

He had been
viewing the king as a ruler, and not a warrior.

Understanding
someone as a
person
may not come naturally to him, but knowing a
fighter
was the one thing he was good at. Setting aside what he felt and turning to the
few things he knew of the giant troll, one idea stood out more than any other. What
if the Tryton's sadness came from a sense of honor? That would mean he felt
sorrow because he did not wish to do battle with one he considered weaker. If
so, it was possible that he would not fight with his full strength. The thought
was tenuous at best, and if he was wrong might cost him his life.

But he didn’t
think he was wrong.

“I’ll do it,”
Taryn exclaimed, and his friends stared at him like he’d lost his mind. Without
waiting for a response he looked at his sister. “If I should fall, get everyone
out.” Doubting his resolve, he stepped away from his friends before they could
try to dissuade him.

Ignoring the hissing
call to return, he strode towards the troll king. As he walked he reached back
and drew both of his swords, readying himself for the fight of his life. Concerned
about his opponents reach, Taryn came to a halt without closing the distance. Tryton
smiled, but the sadness remained in the brown eyes. Together, they inclined
their heads towards each other, and then Tryton signaled for the hourglass to
be turned. A hush spread across the spectators as the two combatants began to
circle . . .

In the blink
of an eye Tryton crossed twenty feet in three strides, and swept his huge
notched sword to cut Taryn down like midsummer wheat—but Taryn ducked at the
last second. Standing up he moved to strike, but Tryton’s attack had been a
deceptive ruse, and the massive weapon had already reversed. With no time to
move or think, Taryn did the only thing he could . . . raise both weapons to
block.

The clash of
the weapons striking boomed like a thunderclap—but Taryn wasn’t knocked sprawling.
With his whole body angled straight to his anchored feet, he stopped the strike
even though he slid two feet on the smooth stone. Already moving, he barely registered
the gasps of shock from the surrounding trolls.

Darting
towards Tryton he whipped Mazer out to strike—but the massive form spun and
brought his sword back from the other direction. This time Taryn jumped into a
flip over the blade and caught a glittering glimpse of the weapon as he arced
through the air. Landing on his toes Taryn bounced to the side, just as the
huge blade struck the ground where he’d landed, causing sparks to burst upward.

In a whirl of
bodies and blades the two clashed as the sand trickled down the hourglass. The rock
troll’s weapon moved faster than Taryn believed possible, and all he managed to
do was defend himself during the first minute. Every blow echoed in a
tremendous ring of metal on metal. With the mighty power behind the swings,
Taryn realized he would need to do something different. Instead of trying to
stop the attacks, he began deflecting them.

For the first
time in his life Taryn felt truly challenged in a fight, and he found
everything in him rising to the challenge. Within another minute he felt he had
a good feel of the rhythm of their duel. Tryton’s strength and deceptive speed
could only be described as awe inspiring, and his technique with his heavy
weapon defied comprehension. Unless Taryn used the magic in his weapons, he
doubted he could defeat him—but he didn’t need to win, he just needed to last
long enough.

The ring of combat
reverberated in the bowl of Astaroth as the massive troll and Taryn fought for
any advantage. Each warrior demonstrated discipline and training in every motion,
refusing to yield to defeat. Speed, grace, and ferocity on both sides elicited
murmurs of praise from the troll onlookers, and worried looks from Taryn's
friends. More than once Tryton’s gigantic blade streaked through the air,
narrowly missing Taryn’s flashing form.

A driving
lunge thrust the wide blade straight for Taryn’s midsection. With his weight
wrong to sidestep, Taryn twisted his body and felt the weapon pass an inch from
his stomach, piercing his cloak, which had not been quick enough to follow its
owner. Growling, Taryn struck the wide blade downward, and then darted towards
the large hand only a few feet away.

Just as his
left katsana descended to strike the troll’s hand it melted backwards,
withdrawing the thrust. Lifting the sword high overhead, Tryton brought it
sweeping down towards Taryn’s legs. Too low to deflect, Taryn leaned towards
the low flying blade and jumped over in a cartwheel—but didn’t touch the
ground. As his body whipped up and over, his head froze as time slowed. Looking
down at the ground, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the wide sword as
it passed below his skull.

His cartwheel
had carried him far enough that when he landed he faced a smooth wall and knew
Tryton would be charging behind him. Keeping his momentum he sprinted at the
wall twenty feet away. Reaching the vertical stone at full speed, he tipped
back and ran up the face—and felt his cloak tug as the heavy weapon of his
adversary tore through it.

His momentum
began to slow fifteen feet off the ground, and he launched himself into a slow back
flip, but immediately twisted when he saw the overhead chop streaking towards
him, ready to cleave him in two as he flew over the troll king. Contorting his
body and still flipping, Taryn blinked as he saw the metal flash by his face.
Still in the air, he looked down and saw Tryton’s tattooed shoulder below him
and his training kicked in. His father’s sword flicked out as he passed,
nicking a four inch line into the hard flesh, drawing blood.

Straining
through his aerial maneuver Taryn landed in a heavy crouch behind Tryton—but
the huge warrior was already in motion. Jumping high, he kicked off the wall
and sailed towards him, his sword raised. Muscles the size of bricks corded and
knotted as he accelerated the sword downward . . .

With all his
weight low, Taryn threw his body sideways and into a roll that brought him to
one knee. The ground vibrated as Tryton's feet smashed into it, and Taryn
thought he'd evaded the strike—but the hulk had twisted in the air to face him,
and his sword was almost upon him.

In a fraction
of a second Taryn’s arms blurred, bringing both his blades above his head just
as Tryton’s weapon hammered into them. The force of the blow nearly knocked him
senseless and he felt the stone under his knee give way, but he held on.
Straining with every ounce of strength he possessed, he pushed against the
troll’s effort to drive his sword through him—but the sharp blade continued to
descend. Gritting his teeth he fought harder, but the giant weapon and his
equally powerful wielder were too much. Inch by inch the blade drew closer to
his face, until he felt it caress his forehead and cheek below his eye. Then he
felt it split his skin and he tasted blood.

The knowledge
that he could activate the magic in his father’s sword flashed across his mind,
but deep within him a rebellion stirred and clawed its way to the surface. A
challenge had been issued, and a part of him refused to surrender. To activate
his magic now would feel like cheating, and even though he would live, he
couldn't live with that thought.

Every muscle
in his body bulged as he growled his fury . . . and Tryton's enormous sword came
to a stop, and then gradually lifted away from his eye. With adrenaline and
pure will roaring through his body, Taryn drove Tryton’s sword upward until he
managed to tip his weapons to the side and dodge out of the way.

Rolling to his
feet he heard a high pitched whistle and looked to see a stunned Kythira
standing next to an empty hourglass. His emotions threatened to boil over as
confusion, pride, and the urge to yell washed over him. The elation flooding
his frame lasted until he became aware of the host of frozen trolls. Before he
could say a word, he felt a massive hand press down on his shoulder and he turned
to face the troll king.