The Chronicles of Lumineia: Book 02 - The Gathering (31 page)

Braon took
advantage of the flight to consider what he knew about the amazons and barbarians.
Although bitter enemies, they were remarkably similar. Both lived in the deep
southeast in the ungoverned region below Talinor. The Amazon nation resided in
a tropical jungle along a large river. Renowned as some of the best female
fighters in any of the kingdoms, they were governed by a queen that ruled over
several large villages hidden in the jungle. Proficient in staff weapons, their
weapon of choice embodied a rod of wood encased in metal with a short, curving
blade on either end. The weapon could be magically linked at the center to
create a single staff, or separated to form two shorter, single bladed
versions. Known as a dreadstaff, it had a formidable reputation. Some were
rumored to be enhanced with magical modifications to make them even more
powerful.

For their
part, the barbarians lived in the highlands between the jungles and the
southern kingdom. Born and raised in rocky foothills and low mountains, they
prided themselves on their battle prowess. Although they were humans, most of
the men were taller, larger, and stronger than the average human and excelled
in a variety of weapons. Each warrior belonged to a tribe or clan that was named
after an animal and boasted hundreds of families. Once per year the clan
leaders gathered to determine a Grunden, or chief of chiefs. It was not
uncommon for a clan chieftain to die during the challenge.

Both races
were fiercely proud, warlike, and stubborn, and protected their territory
against any foolish enough to enter without permission. In reality, the only
difference was their belief about gender. In the amazons’ religion, women were believed
to be stronger, and females were the warriors, leaders, and hunters. Men in Amazon
villages were treated as anything from servants to slaves. Barbarians
considered this belief heresy, and that men were superior. The difference in beliefs
had caused numerous efforts to “convert” the other, resulting in countless
bloody battles and wars.

The giant
phoenix dropped out of the sky, pulling Braon’s thoughts back to the present.
Below him, the vast greenery of Numenessee rippled in the breeze, and the
endless deep blue of the great lake twinkled in the distance. Descending,
Reiquen glided towards the point where the Lake Road divided the lake and the
forest. Even from half a mile away Braon could see the commotion of battle
stirring.

Braon frowned
and directed the phoenix towards the disturbance. Approaching fast, he began to
make out several bodies struggling against each other. Frowning, Braon peered
into the throng, trying to identify the assailants. Several leather-clad women
were fighting three large bare-chested men. Naked blades flashed in the
sunlight as each party sought an advantage. The three barbarians, outnumbered
more than two to one, appeared to be holding their own against the ring of
furious women. Watching the small battle, a group of humans and dwarves stood
in front of an almost completed wall that extended out from the front of the
cliff to the water, and he spotted Jair and Seath in their midst.

“Jair reports
that he tried to stop the fight, but both parties turned on him. He didn’t want
to lose anyone—or offend them,” Thacker said in his ear.

Braon nodded
and furrowed his brow as he tried to sort out the more subtle clues that
revealed the temperament of each party, and how to respond appropriately. The
next moment they landed thirty feet from the combatants, and Braon slipped from
the neck of the giant red bird. Striding towards the swirling battle he came to
a halt twenty feet away.

“Enough!” he
called.

At first he only
caught a few scornful glances, but then they noticed the firebird behind him. One
by one they stopped fighting to stare at him. For several seconds the newcomers
gaped at him, glancing back and forth between him and the phoenix in confusion.

“I am Braon, High
Commander of the gathering. You wished to speak with me?” Braon said, hoping
his voice sounded full of confidence.

Several of the
warriors in front of him laughed, and one of the barbarians sneered. “You're
just a fat
boy
, not fit to command women.”

“Or men!” one
of the amazons retorted, raising her sword.

Braon ignored
their replies, focusing instead on the largest of the men. Huge by any
standards, he carried the largest double-edged axe that Braon had ever seen.
Long black braided like rope to his shoulders, and his blue-gray eyes evaluated
the young man in turn. Obviously the leader, he had responded differently than
the others, and during the battle he had not taken several opportunities to
strike down the women. Even though his gaze measured Braon, the look held no
animosity. Braon could only hope that was a good omen.

He inclined
his head towards the large man. “Are you the Grunden?”

The man cocked
his head to the side, betraying his surprise, and raised a hand to stall his
companion’s comment.

“I am Golic,
Grunden of the southern tribes,” he said as he began advancing towards him. His
long strides carried him to a stop within a few feet of Braon—easy striking
distance for the huge axe in his hand. “Do you speak the truth?” he said, his tone
dangerous.

Braon resisted
the urge to take a step back, or swallow the sudden dryness in his throat.
Knowing he would be struck down in an instant if he demonstrated weakness, he
tilted his head upward and fought to keep the fear from his face. “I do. I am
appointed by the Oracle herself.”

Braon didn’t
flinch when the axe lifted towards him. “What would happen if I challenged you
for leadership?” the Grunden said, raising his voice for everyone to hear.

Braon did his
best to ignore the derisive calls from the other barbarians—and the amazons. A
challenge from a barbarian would not be like the challenge from the Azüre king.
It would be single combat, brutal and deadly, until one backed down, losing all
respect, or died. The young man’s face hardened and his eyes flashed. “I’d lose,”
he said. "But your victory would ensure your defeat, and the death of your
people."

The silence
stretched between them while Braon watched the Grunden consider his options.
The chief could either accept his leadership, which he might consider the same
as losing, or issue a challenge, which would cost Braon his life. Braon had
already played his strongest card, and could only hope that the reference to
the oracle would be strong enough.

The barbarian finally
relaxed and placed his oversized weapon on his back. “Then I accept your command,”
he said.

Before Braon
could question the acceptance, or breathe a silent sigh of relief, one of the
other barbarians strode forward, raising his sword high. “If you won’t
challenge him, then I will!”

In response to
his words, a huge wall of flames erupted from the ground, streaking towards the
astonished man. In the blink of an eye, they reached him and wrapped around his
body, encircling him in a ring of magical fire that began to shrink. The man shouted
in fear and swept his sword at his encroaching death, but the weapon glowed red
from the heat, forcing him to drop it in a cry of pain and fear.

Braon looked
backward and saw the wall of flame extending from Reiquen’s wing. A moment
later he heard a voice echo in his mind, white hot with fury.
Fool human! Only
a chief may challenge a chief. A second will fight the second!”

Everyone in
view winced as if they had been physically struck, and the barbarian began
shouting panicked apologies. The ring of flames came to a halt inches from
consuming his flesh, and then melted backwards before evaporating, leaving a
smoking ring of charred earth. Stunned silence enveloped the onlookers and the
new arrivals. Then the phoenix screamed a piercing war cry that caused every
heart to stop, including Braon’s, and made the offending barbarian jump.

Thank you
,
Braon mentally whispered, overwhelmed by Reiquen’s help, but unsure of how to
express it.

You are my
commander as well, Braon
.
Forgive me for assuming that I would be your second,
the deep voice replied, and he could hear the hint of a humor stealing into
the tone.

Resolving to
consider the implications of Reiquen’s loyalty later, Braon broke the stillness.
“Welcome to the gathering, barbarians and amazons. Would you please come with
me so we may speak?”

He turned
without waiting for a response and walked towards Reiquen. Pausing long enough
to tell Thacker to have Jair clear the crowd, he continued to the cliff and
turned westward. Stopping once he was out of earshot from the workers on the
road, he waited for the newcomers to arrive.

He didn’t have
to wait long. The three barbarians appeared behind him, with the would-be
challenger still jumpy, and the amazons followed them. As soon as the ten of
them stood before him, Braon spoke. “The Oracle has told us we have less than
two weeks until the fiends arrive, so forgive me if I am brief.”

Raising his
hand to forestall one of the amazons that opened her mouth, he said, “Please
allow me to go first, then you may ask any questions you wish of me.” She gave
a curt nod, so he continued, “Which of you ladies is in charge?”

One of the
women stepped forward, tilting her head upward, “I am Krisrae, personal
representative of the queen.”

“Greetings
Krisrae,” Braon said with a nod. “Forgive me for asking, but why do you fight
differently than the others?”

Her eyes
flashed. “What do you mean?”

He gave her a
small smile. “You are better than your companions, but their skill appeared far
smoother. It’s almost as if you were born with no innate ability for battle,
but you trained hard enough to overcome it.”

One of the
other amazons coughed to hide a laugh, and Krisrae frowned in irritation, “You
are an observant one, and bold. Few have noticed the difference.”

Before she
could continue, another Amazon grinned and exclaimed, “Kris used to stumble all
over herself . . . until she began training twice as hard as anyone else.”

Krisrae
growled at her friend but the other woman's grin spread even wider. Out of the
corner of Braon’s eye he saw Golic flash a quick smile and nod in approval.
Filing the expression away for further thought, he addressed the women, “Which
is normal, innate skill, or requiring practice?”

In unison,
several of the women responded, “Innate skill.” Then one added, “Kris is an
oddity in
several
ways.”

Braon smiled
in satisfaction. He’d gotten the information he needed, while at the same time
giving the warriors a chance to increase their confidence in him. “Excellent,
now to a more important question. I know we sent you a messenger, but we didn’t
think many of you would be able to make it before they blocked your path. How
many did you bring?”

The Grunden
exchanged a confused glance with Krisrae. “All of us made it. We brought all
nine clans, and number over twenty thousand warriors with their families. They
should be crossing the Blue River now.”

All of the
women were nodding as well, and Kris added, “We also brought everyone.” She
flashed a smug look at the barbarians. “Over forty thousand soldiers, as well
as our men. They should be a few miles behind the barbarians. We rode ahead.”

Braon shook
his head, confusion written on his face as he struggled to figure out how the
math added up.
It should have taken almost two weeks for the messenger to
get there, then at least a few days to find and convince both leaders. They must
have immediately gathered and sent everyone for them to arrive here now—but if
the fiends are only two weeks away, then they would have easily blocked them in
their path . . .

The Grunden
said uncertainly, “When we passed the forest of Orláknia , it was on fire—”

“
All
of
it?” Braon interrupted.

“I believe
so,” the big man replied and the women nodded in agreement. “But we only saw
the southern tip. We also hit some scattered patches of big black dogs that
attacked us, but we took care of them easily.”

Braon shook
his head and a grin blossomed on his features. “Orláknia burning would have
created a fire line large enough to stop the entire fiend army. It must have held
them for at least a few days.”

“What about
the dogs?” one of the barbarians asked, speaking for the first time.

Braon frowned.
“They must have been passing through the forest when it burned. A few must have
made it through before the blaze cut them off.”

The Amazon
leader shook her head. “What’s so important about Orláknia burning? It’s a big
black forest and should have been destroyed a long time ago, but what does it
have to do with us. So a forest fire took it out.” She shrugged. “Irrelevant.”

Braon
smothered a laugh and looked at her, “You brought forty thousand, correct?”

She nodded, pride
infusing her features until Braon said, “If the forest hadn’t burned, delaying
the enemy, you would have faced millions.”

“Their army is
that large?” the barbarian that had challenged him asked, his expression regaining
some of its earlier scorn.

Braon shook
his head, his eyes sparking with intensity. “It is a
thousand
times
larger than that. Both of you would have been slaughtered by just the
foreguard.”

Most of the
faces before him were dubious, but both the Grunden and Kris seemed pensive. Then
Braon realized why. “Both of you saw the orbs,” he stated, his eyes narrowing.

Kris and even
the giant barbarian paled in response to his statement. Smiling in sympathy,
Braon said, “I am sincerely glad you came—for your own sakes as well as ours.
The Oracle informed us that our enemies would far outnumber us, and would sweep
across the four corners of our world, destroying every shred of life. Gathered
as we are, we can last a week at best.”