The Chronicles of Lumineia: Book 02 - The Gathering (42 page)

Pouring his
fury into the strike, Taryn sank his father's sword deep into the back of its
neck. Cutting through the spiked bone, it penetrated the spine and the Kraka
stopped cold. Like a huge dead tree, it leaned forward until it smashed into
the ground as Taryn leapt free.

Landing in a
crouch, he came to his feet ready for more, but saw that only a few fiends were
left alive, and his friends were finishing them off. One of the remaining quare,
wounded but still mobile, began limping towards him. Taryn drew a throwing
knife and, without mercy, sent it winging it into his chest. Crumpling to the
ground, the quare died as Taryn moved forward to retrieve his blade.

Then he heard
a cry of alarm from Liri. Whirling, he saw what she had seen. A single siper had
escaped and was racing south. A blast of wind from Siarra reached out for him
but the distance was too great, and the dog managed to keep his feet.

Sheathing his father's
sword, Taryn drew his mother's and morphed it. Drawing back the magical arrow,
he sighted at the fleeing figure before releasing it. Like a streak of light it
flew through the air—but missed by a hair as the fiend disappeared into the
tree line. Crying out in frustration he made to follow but Liri appeared at his
side.

Her lean form
crouched and she drew an arrow back, sighting on the siper that was already out
of view and probably a thousand yards away. Letting out a slow breath she
released. With a snap, her enchanted bow straightened and sent the arrow streaking
across the gap. Taryn held his breath and watched as the arrow disappeared into
the forest. Several seconds passed as Liri guided the arrow with the wind magic
contained within the bow . . . until he heard a faint crash mirrored by Liri’s
grunt of satisfaction.

“Nice shot, Liri,”
Taryn said, and she grinned at him.

“I could see it
all the way to him, like looking through a distance viewer,” she said, pleasure
at her new weapon coloring her tone. Then she met his gaze, concern written on
her features. "How are you?"

He grinned.
"I took it slow."

"That was
you taking it easy?"

Taryn's grin
widened as he sheathed his sword. “And you? Did you get hurt?”

She grimaced
and pointed at her arm where the bleeding holes indicated a siper had clamped
its jaws. Taryn stepped forward in concern but she waved him off. “I’ve had
worse.”

 “Nice shot,
Liri,” someone said behind them, and Taryn turned to see Siarra approaching,
picking her way through the numerous bodies around her. Jack, Trin, Kell and
Mae were behind her.

Liri grinned.
“It was a lucky shot, and farther than I have ever done before. The only reason
it was possible was because of the wind bow.”

“Don’t we look
pretty?” Jack laughed dryly.

For the first
time Taryn noticed how dirty each of them looked. Splattered with blood and pieces
of sand from Siarra’s magic, they
looked
like they'd been through a
massacre.

“I’m just glad
we survived,” Mae said, her voice tinged with relief, and Taryn spotted the shallow
wound on her leg. Trin nodded, echoing her sentiment.

“It was odd
how they fought, though,” Jack mused, and after receiving questioning looks he
gestured towards the bodies littering the ground. “A small group split off to
kill the four of you, and when Taryn began slaughtering them they sent a much
larger contingent. They hardly paid any attention at all to Trin and Mae and only
focused on Siarra after she used her magic—except when Kell,” he nodded towards
the rock troll, “joined the fight. Then the group split into three.”

“How is that
odd?” Liri asked, confused. “It was a good strategy. Taryn, Siarra, and Kell
were the biggest threats and they sent the greatest numbers after them.”

Jack shrugged.
“I guess I just expected them to be more disorganized, like a rabble of
ravenous beasts, not an organized fighting unit.”

Taryn looked
at the dead fiends, frowning at the thief's words. Perhaps there was more to
the enemy’s discipline than he’d first thought, and his mind turned to Braon at
Azertorn. He hoped the young man could handle it.

Mae cut into
his thoughts. “Thank you Siarra, for your magic. There is no way we could have
defeated them without you.”

Jack laughed.
“Kell and Taryn killed the rest.”

“I got my
share,” Trin said defensively. “Did you get any?” he said, looking at Jack.

Jack smirked.
“Every one that came close to Siarra.”

She turned and
flashed him a soft smile. “Thanks for watching my back.”

“Taryn, I’m
glad you took down the kraka,” Trin exclaimed. “I doubt if I could have.”

Taryn shrugged
without comment and asked, “Who killed the other skorpian? Siarra?”

She shook her
head and looked around at the rest in the circle. When no one answered, Liri
said, “I didn’t do it.”

Trin and Jack
said at the same time, “Me either.”

Taryn laughed
and looked at Mae. “You?”

She shrugged and
began walking away without response, but Trin grabbed her arm. Bug-eyed, he
asked, “How did you do it?”

Her lips
twitched as she stated, “I put my sword into him. He died.”

Taryn began
laughing, and before long everyone joined in. They had been victorious in their
first strike against Draeken, even if it was just a grain of sand compared to
what was left. As they bandaged their minor injuries, Taryn found his thoughts
drawn eastward, where innumerable fiends still lived with their master.

Their next
engagement would not be so easy.

Chapter
32: All Gathered In

Braon rubbed
his finger against his thumb and looked at the gathered group of generals
before him, nodding in satisfaction. Only his seven generals, their Links, and
Newhawk stood in the map room with Braon and Thacker, but the small collection
represented nearly every race and person in the land of Lumineia. Looking at
the seven men and women arranged around one end of the newly created map, a
swell of pride rose within him, closing his throat for a moment.

“Generals,”
Braon addressed them with confidence. “We have less than two days until the
fiends arrive and the battle is joined, so forgive me if I dispense with
formalities. There is simply no time for pride or custom.” He locked eyes with
each of them to make sure his message had been received, and then softened his
expression.

“Welcome to
the map room,” he said, sweeping a hand at the large magical map that dominated
more than half of the huge chamber. “This will be the location from which Newhawk
and I will coordinate the majority of the battle. I know that several of you
have questions to ask, especially about this wondrous map. Allow me to cover
the material that we have prepared and then we will answer any remaining
questions. For the moment, please take your place behind the section of the map
that you represent.”

As they sorted
themselves out and moved to take their positions, Braon once again marveled at
the supreme feat that the map represented. Sitting at over forty feet long,
twenty feet wide, and three feet tall, the water map of Azertorn and the Giant’s
Shelf had stolen his breath the first time he’d seen it.

Shimmering in
detail, the multicolored water had been magically entombed in the space to form
a flawless, moving map of the battle area. Even now he could see tiny pieces of
blue moving all over the cliff and city like thousands of ants, showing their
own army. Aside from the people, the rest of the cliff, city, and the forest
below appeared as they did in real life, except in miniature. Including the
features that he was about to demonstrate, it would be the perfect tool to view
the engagement. Despite its value, every time he looked at it the faces of four
dead elves flashed across his mind.

Forcing it aside
with a deep breath, he strode forward and walked right through the enchanted
liquid. A moment later he stepped out on the other side, dry. Astonished gasps
escaped the onlookers, causing a faint smile to cross his features before he
turned around. Now facing the city from the south with Newhawk taking a
position behind him, he looked into the faces of the generals he had chosen.

Farthest to
his left, the short spindly king of the gnomes, Talfar, looked very different
from his counterparts. Dressed in a regal cloak and belt, he was the only one not
dressed in some form of armor. In front of him was the gray section of the
cliff, and the gnome king’s eyes gazed at the tiny blue dots that represented
his entire people and the Gray Battalion.

 Next to him
stood the whip thin form of Val’Trisian, dressed in a light vest that glittered
dully and a short skirt. The dark elf exuded confidence and menace while she
examined her area. Flowing in detail, she could see the low point of the cliff
that was her charge leading up to the wall. Despite her study of magic, her
eyes were wary, but he couldn’t blame her. Her people’s presence and her
appointment to general had caused a stir within the ranks, but until now she
had kept her people firmly in line with only minor altercations to report.
Indeed most of the scuffles had been members of the other races attacking them,
and Braon had all but discounted the rumors that they were evil to the core.
Even now her gaze searched the room, not in suspicion, but in cautious
preparation. Their eyes met and she tilted her head at him. At some point he
had gained her respect, but he had no idea when.

Onix, the
dwarf general, crouched next to the dark elf and studied the West Falls
Command, while casting occasional glances towards her. At first, he had been
one of the most vocal in objecting to her presence, and Braon had needed to use
all his skill to remind him that the enemy of his enemy was his friend. The
short, stocky dwarf still glowered at his neighbor general, but the two had
gradually overcome their differences, at least for the purposes of this engagement.

Behind the
city, Deiran gazed proudly at the magical rendering of Azertorn. Armored in
dark blue as usual, the elf fiddled with his fingers and leaned towards Onix to
whisper in his ear. Braon knew the elf was anxious for the coming battle, and
still secretly believed that his army could defend the city against all
attempts to take it.

Prince Graden
from the southern kingdom, now general of the East Falls Command, had knelt to
examine his area. He was also the only one who’d gathered enough courage to try
to touch the map. Braon almost smiled at the man, reminded once again of how
grateful he was to have such a good general from his own race. Over the last
several weeks, General Graden had worked harder than many, and the evidence of
the lack of sleep appeared on every inch of his face. He’d also become an avid
supporter of Braon and had silenced a brief campaign to remove him from command.
Making a mental note to order him to get some rest, he looked to the next in
line.

Dark-skinned
and tall, Emeka from the Azüre people towered over every other general except
for the barbarian at his side. His eyes glittered suspiciously at the harnessed
energy before him and he stood a little further back than the others, but his gaze
never left his men glowing in blue. As general of Ridge Battalion, Emeka had
taken some time to accept his defeat in the leadership challenge, but seemed to
have come to terms with it in recent weeks.

Golic anchored
the line, the massive barbarian crouching to look at the Lake Road. Almost to a
man, the other barbarians had protested Braon’s leadership, but after the tale
of the phoenix’s support had been spread, by Golic himself, the protests had
faded away. The Grunden of the barbarian people, and now leader of the amazons,
had inexplicably supported his young commander without question, for which Braon
was grateful.

Unable to
resist, Braon surreptitiously glanced at Brynn, standing several feet behind
Onix. She had apparently been looking at him, but she looked away when their
eyes met. Braon forced the surge of heat aside before he lost the confidence of
his men and raised his chin to draw attention to himself.

“Generals of
the gathering,” he said, waving a hand at the map. “This map has been painstakingly
created by the best magi the elves have to offer. It will allow us to watch
every corner of the battle and ensure we stay ahead of the enemy as much as
possible.”

“You can barely
see the men,” Talfar said, his tone confused.

Braon smiled
and walked into the center of the map. “This is not a stationary map,” he said,
and placed both hands into the cool water. Slowly he spread his hands apart. In
response, the map began to focus and everything grew larger in view, even
though the dimensions of the map remained the same. As he heard expressions of
astonishment from his generals, he continued to enhance the map into more and
more detail. Both ends of the cliff disappeared from sight followed by the next
two battalions, but Braon didn’t stop until the map only showed the city of
Azertorn. Finally stepping out of the water, he returned to the edge of the map
near Newhawk amidst exclamations of praise and wonder.

Before anyone
could say anything, he bent down and “grabbed” the water. Sliding both hands in
the same direction, the entire map glided west, and before long the entire city
was gone, to be replaced by the human battalion in crystal detail. Now
thousands of men could be seen training in the afternoon sun, since the view
looked near the cliff.

“Impressive,”
Emeka said, with grudging respect.

“Stunning,”
Deiran breathed.

“General
Graden,” Braon said, drawing their attention back to him. “Since this is your
command, please enhance the view as much as you can.”

The human
general hesitated, but nodded and eased his way into the map. After a moment’s
pause, he smiled, and placed his hands into the magical field like Braon had
done. As he moved his hands apart, the view became closer and closer, until the
entire map stopped. With only a few hundred feet visible, the men shown in the
fluid appeared about as tall as one’s hand. Swords struck swords with no sound,
spears flew through the air, only to silently slip back into the water when
they hit the ground. One man performed a complicated routine and disarmed his
opponent, eliciting scattered applause and praise from the entranced generals,
as well as their Links.