The Chronicles of Lumineia: Book 02 - The Gathering (32 page)

The
expressions of the amazons and the barbarians ranged from incredulous to
surprised, except for Kris and Golic. Determination hardened their features and
they were both nodding, accepting the assessment of their situation. They had
seen
it.

“Now,” Braon
continued, preparing himself for the disagreement he knew would be coming. “I
have a specific command of our defenses that I need you both to assume.”

“Wait,” one of
the women said. “
Together
?”

Braon nodded,
and frowned as a babble of protest rose up before him. Folding his arms, he
waited for them to quiet down, and then said, “Yes.”

“Why?!” Kris
choked out the question.

Braon allowed
a smile. “Because this is the most dangerous position, the most vulnerable
point, and I need someone strong to defend it.”

The obvious
compliment, although true, was not the actual reason Braon wanted to place them
together. He’d seen the way Golic didn’t want to kill the women, and also seen
the great skill and strength of the women. If they were placed next to each
other, each would fight their hardest—not just to survive—but to best the
other. Their sheer pride would cause the barbarians and amazons to fight harder
than ever, and on the Lake Road he needed men and women that would refuse to
back down. He couldn't imagine a better environment for the road, if they
didn’t kill each other.

First to
respond, Golic asked, “Where is our post?”

Braon gestured
back to the road they had been on. “You will defend the road. It is quite
literally a highway to flank us. If the road is lost, we are lost. Bring both
of your peoples to the section of the plateau at the top of the road. I will
have a man named Jair meet you there. He will explain to Golic,” he inclined
his head towards the Grunden, “the details of being my general in that
command.”

Kris and
several of the women opened their mouths, but Braon flashed them a look of such
coldness that their jaws snapped shut with an audible click. “I will allow no
fighting between your peoples. You fight, we die. We do not have time to settle
grudges, or determine which belief is right. We do not even have time to
prepare, but we will do what we must.” He alternated his gaze between Golic and
Krisrae. “Any person caught fighting will be severely punished—and possibly banished.
We do not have the luxury to deal with infighting. Keep your people in check,
so we have a chance to survive.”

He stared them
down until each of them blinked and accepted the instructions with a nod,
before finally softening his expression. “Report to your posts, and pray to
whatever God you believe in.

"The
battle will be joined soon."

Chapter
25: The Cost of Greed

A spontaneous
sigh of relief escaped Braon’s lips as he watched the barbarians and amazons
depart. Deep down he could admit that he had doubted he would survive the
encounter. Taking a deep breath, he walked back to Reiquen, once again in
control of his emotions.

The moment he
came into view of the great bird, Thacker pounced on him. “I thought you told
me never to leave your side!” he hissed.

Braon raised a
hand, fighting the sudden sense of fatigue. “I know my friend, but there are
exceptions to every rule.”

The man pursed
his lips in anger and opened his mouth to protest, but Braon cut him off with a
soft look. “I appreciate your concern, but it was important for me to meet with
them in a manner that expressed confidence, which meant alone.”

Although he
still held a doubtful expression, Thacker fell into step behind him, choosing
instead to change the subject. “While you were gone the queen sent word through
Deiran. She needs to speak with you.”

Braon pulled
up short and turned to him with a quizzical expression, which Thacker answered
with a shrug. “I don’t know what it is about. That was the entire message. I
got the impression that Deiran felt it was a problem they didn't want to voice.”
Thacker’s eyebrows dipped as he pondered the cryptic message.

Braon frowned.
The odd note undoubtedly meant trouble. Blowing out his breath he wheeled and
mounted the great firebird. “Come on Thacker,” he said. “Let’s go find out what
the newest problem is.” In his gut, he doubted that it was good news.

With concern
written across his features, Thacker climbed into place behind him. In minutes
they were gliding above the lush green forest of the elves. An idea crossed the
young man’s mind and he thought,
Reiquen, would you mind taking us above the
cliff so I can see the fortifications
?

The huge
phoenix banked upward, eliciting a squeak from Thacker as he grabbed onto Braon
for support, but the young commander grinned, grateful for the sentient bird’s
willingness to connect to his mind. Soaring above the expanse of trees, Reiquen
flew towards the top of the Giant’s Shelf.

They heard the
sounds of construction before they came into view, but once they crested the
edge of the cliff, the sight took Braon’s breath away. It had been some time
since he had been able to see firsthand the changes in the army. With Newhawk
as his feet, it had allowed him to work more efficiently, planning and preparing
without seeing—but it couldn't replace witnessing his plans unfold with his own
eyes.

Spreading away
from the cliff’s edge, hundreds of thousands of people moved about their daily
business, preparing for war. Dwarves and men lined the cliff, building and
fortifying the wall that Braon had described. Within the vast host he managed
to pick out several distinct races performing their assigned tasks. He was
pleased to note that the command on the front line was training, and the second
reserve was hard at work constructing the fortifications. For miles back, and
as far as he could see to either side, the army that had massed could only be
described as stunning, but Braon felt a stab of fear as he recalled how large
the enemy was going to be.

Someone waved
to him, and he glanced down to see the men working with the large ballistae and
pendulum that he had described weeks ago. At some point someone had nicknamed
the device a sweeper machine because it would brush the enemy off the cliff.

Seeing his
idea come to life took his breath away as a sweeper team launched a spiked ball
horizontally. Inches from the cliff wall, the ball sailed sideways and trailed a
heavy barbed chain. Then it reached the end with a snap of metal and began to
fall. Accelerating downward it swung in an arc, slowing as it gouged into the brown
stone of the thousand foot cliff, causing sparks to fly. Curving upward it
reached the top just as someone on the team pulled a lever. Clanking, the chain
began to pull inward as the dangerous weapon resumed its fall towards the
ground, this time on a shorter leash.

“I can’t
believe it,” Thacker exclaimed from behind him, pulling him from his
observations.

“What?” Braon
asked.

“I saw you
describe it back at Azertorn, but I have to admit I had my doubts. As you said,
it will sweep any climbing enemies off the cliff.”

Sidestepping
the compliment, Braon said, “I am impressed that the dwarves built it. Can you
ask Onix how many are operational?”

Thacker
nodded, and a moment later replied, “Onix reports forty percent of the sweepers
are working, and he has teams training on them now. He also wants to tell you
that almost three quarters of the ballistae have been built. He has utilized
humans that have knowledge of their construction, and it has helped him stay on
schedule.”

“Any
problems?” Braon asked, raising his voice over a gust of wind.

“Only with the
stone magi,” Thacker replied for the dwarf general. “They have had a hard time
rigging sections of the cliff to explode.”

“Tell him to
pull whoever he needs from the other divisions. Those defenses are vital.”

He saw Thacker
nod out of the corner of his eye and so he resumed his contemplations. On the surface,
the army appeared to be working smoothly, despite the variety of races working
together. In reality, a great deal of conflict between the more bitter enemies
had been difficult to quell. Every evening, each general reported on the day’s
progress and challenges. The nightly report had become a ritual of
communication between Braon and his key leaders, each connected through the
telepathic family. Once a week they met in person. It was Thacker’s favorite
time of the week, and the only time he was able to see his entire family.

Unfortunately,
the past week had not gone as well as Braon would have liked. Frequent fights
and disputes had broken out between different races. The resulting backlash had
fueled resentment and anger between different peoples. Quick discipline had
been the only thing preventing a full scale conflict that they could not
afford. A good byproduct of the engagements had been an increase in their preparation
efforts. It seemed no race wanted to be the last finished with their defenses.

“Finally,”
Thacker muttered, and Braon looked to see that they had passed the eastern
falls and were approaching the House of Runya. Back winging, the firebird
landed in the rooftop garden and allowed them to dismount.

Braon threw a
thankful thought to Reiquen and saw the feathered head dip in response. A
moment later a blast of heat signaled the bird's departure as Braon turned to
the business at hand. Ducking into the cool interior of the elven home, he
pondered the different problems that needed to be solved. The path was
familiar, so he let his feet carry him though the corridors until he exited
onto the streets, his mind buzzing.

With Thacker
and two guards falling into step behind him, Braon worked his way through the
crowded roads until he came to the palace of the elves. Just as he was about to
turn towards the door Thacker caught up to him and touched his arm.

“Sorry,” he
said, “I forgot to tell you. Deiran mentioned that the queen was in the first
women’s chamber.”

Braon nodded
and changed course towards one of the entrances to the caverns behind the city.
Finding the nearest portal, he moved into the well-lit tunnel, negotiating past
the many women moving in and out of the caverns. Most were human, although he
saw quite a few from other races. Carrying babies and followed by small
children, the mothers chosen to take care of the young appeared stressed and
anxious, and few cast Braon a second look.

The tunnel
sloped downward, heading straight into the plateau. After several hundred feet,
other corridors began branching off, each lit by countless flameless torches.

Stray sounds
echoed off the stone walls, babies crying or children playing mixed with the
subtle hum of clothing machines. The mothers cavern had become a hive of
activity in such a short time that the women hadn't been able to remove all of
the dust.

Reaching the
end of the corridor, the ceiling receded into the roof of the first cavern. As
high as it was, even the hundreds of lights could not reach it. Thousands of
women worked within the space chosen to be the place of safety for wives (wives
only?) and children. Women of various races could be seen working side by side
to organize and fill clothing and food requests. Others could be seen fletching
and making arrows that were then added to growing piles. At the sight of such
order, Braon smiled, and had to admit that the women had come together far
better than the men of Lumineia. The queen and Lariel had consistently reported
no problems in their area, allowing him to focus on more pressing matters—but
seeing such discipline made him wonder if the women should be responsible for
more. They had smoothed any conflict between races and fostered a spirit of
hope and dedication.

“Commander!” someone
called from the side, and Braon looked to see Erianna, one of the daughters of
Runya, striding towards him. Short and blond like her sister Liri, she had
volunteered to work with her mother in the caverns and had shown an aptitude
for organization. Similar to Liri in temperament, the beautiful elf wore a
plain, light green dress that in no way revealed her station as the high
princess of Azertorn.

“Eri,” Braon
smiled and bowed. “It’s good to see you. How goes the work in the caverns?”

Beaming, she
answered as she stopped in front of him, “Wonderful! We are on schedule with
both food and clothing orders, and even a little ahead with arrows.” She winked
at him. “I think the arrow women want to win the competition.”

Braon laughed,
and realized that the sound seemed unfamiliar coming from his lips. “Ayame sent
me a message…?”

Eri’s grin faltered.
“We have been having several problems with the merchants,” she said, spinning
and heading towards a small enclosed area that held a few makeshift offices.

Confused, but
knowing that Erianna would have answered if she wanted him to know, he followed
her. Her response had been odd, but the way her lips had pulled together had
told him much.

Ducking under
the tent flap he stepped into the queen’s neat workroom and looked towards Ayame.
To his surprise, she seemed worn. The shadows under her eyes made him consider whether
he'd placed too much on the elf queen. Doing his best to hide his concern, he
smiled at Ayame and bowed. "My Queen, what can I assist with?"

At his
entrance she had risen to her feet and moved to stand close to him. “Braon,” she
said affectionately, “it’s been a few days since you visited us. I hope all is
well?” Her soft voice sounded the same as always, yet he caught several
meanings from the subtle changes in her tone. The queen was worried, not much,
but a little. Perhaps she had heard about the conflicts? She was also glad to
see him, and not just because she missed him. There was something she was displeased
with.