The Chronicles of Lumineia: Book 01 - Elseerian (43 page)

"Is there any hope for us?" the queen asked, a desperate glimmer in her expression.

"Some," Siarra answered. "We have more time to prepare than before." She nodded towards Ryben. "The woodsman has given us that."

He started and leaned forward. "Me? How?"

"When Death didn’t kill you, you were able to
warn
Terros. War then moved up his plans and tried to wipe out the eastern kingdom before he was ready, before his full army had come through the portal. It’s because of you that so many refugees from the eastern kingdom made it out alive.
You
. . . "—she leaned in—"are the Watcher."

"Ah, yes!" Sirfalas smiled for the first time. "The ancient prophecy spoke of a Watcher who would warn the kingdoms to prepare. No one seemed to fit the role at the time, so that part was dismissed as an error."

"How much time did we gain?" Keiko asked.

"We would have had a month, but thanks to Ryben we now have a little more than six weeks before he reaches this city. While we gather and fortify here, Taryn must find and destroy Draeken."

Taryn snapped to look at her, shocked. "Me?"

She returned his gaze with kind eyes. "You, brother, are the one in the prophecy. Only you can kill Draeken, just as Jack killed Death."

Taryn started to protest but Ladarius beat him to it. “That boy!” He said with a wave of his hand. “We don’t even know who he is. There is certainly an elven warrior that can best him!”

The archmage echoed his comments, but trailed off when Liri began to laugh scornfully. The harsh sound caused several in the room to look at her oddly until she stopped and met Telerial’s gaze. “You are indeed a fool if you think someone can defeat Taryn.”

She rose to her feet when the mage’s face clouded with anger, preventing him from speaking. “Think about it magi,” she said, her tone shifting to persuasive. “The greatest skills of the dwarves, stamina, endurance and strength, added to the cunning and shrewdness of humans, and joined with the speed and agility of our race . . .”

Many eyes looked at Taryn with newfound intensity, but all he felt was dread. How could he be the one to perform such an act? He couldn’t do anything but swing a weapon! A tidal wave of discouragement threatened to engulf him, and he looked away from the searching looks at the head of the table, only to meet the gaze of his friends.

Confidence radiated from each of them, bolstering his courage enough that he managed not to reveal his despair. Then Liri sat down, her expression triumphant as she looked at Taryn, and the worry evaporated as quickly as it had come, replaced by the warmth of confidence—weak, but growing stronger. In that moment he thought of Denithir’s dying words, and the promise he’d made to himself.

Now was the time to fulfill that vow.

Returning to the conversation, Taryn heard Deiran interrupt Siarra.

"So we have six weeks to prepare the city?" the general asked.

She nodded and then he looked at the archmage. "How many can you gather?"

"At least ten thousand battle magi," he responded with pride.

"I can summon three legions of twenty thousand each and have the city prepared within the time frame," Deiran said, looking at Teleriel. "We can be prepared to defend the city against any force by then. I can lead the defenses indefinitely within the walls of this city."

The archmage nodded, smiling. "Then it's settled. We gather, and hold out until Taryn can kill Draeken."

"Or until we defeat the invasion." The general nodded sharply.

"FOOLS!" Siarra's voice thundered through the chamber at the same time her fists smashed into the table, cracking it all the way to the queen. Before the sound had died away she lifted a hand and clenched her fist. Energy arced through the general and the archmage and seemed to clamp their mouths shut. Everyone froze at the sight and watched the two elves desperately struggle to part their lips. When she spoke again, her venomously soft tone shook with contained fury. "This army was created to destroy the
gods
! They will number in the
billions
and you will be nothing more than flies to be swatted. If Deiran leads the defenses,”—she jerked a finger at him and he flinched—“you will fall in a single
HOUR
!" She finished in a low hiss that shook everyone at the table.

Blue energy abruptly crackled all around the Oracle, and Taryn wasn’t the only one to lean away from the awesome display of power. Before anyone could move her hand shot out, making them all jump, but it stopped and pointed at Braon. With her voice still furiously quiet she said, "If
HE
leads the defenses—of
every member—of every race,
all gathered upon this cliff . . . then—and only then—you
might
last
seven
days
. That is longest you can hope to survive,
seven days!"

 Despite her low tone, her words echoed and re-echoed throughout their minds, and the weight of understanding finally settled on every person in the room like the rock ceiling had suddenly crashed onto them.
Every
race had to be
convinced
to come, then
gathered
, then
prepared
to defend, and they could still only last
seven
days?

Responsibility suddenly crushed Taryn as he realized that thousands of lives would be lost every minute until he defeated Draeken—who hadn't been killed the last time. He swallowed and bowed his head, humbled once again by his calling in the coming war.

The silence stretched on as Siarra’s magic dissipated, and still no one spoke. Finally the queen slowly rose to her feet.

"Every person has a purpose, no matter how small. We must collect
every
life of
every
race in the coming weeks. Our lives depend on this as much as theirs. My brothers and sisters . . . we must commence the greatest gathering in the history of our world as we fight for the survival of our race. Let us not fail our descendents.

"General, gather the troops. Archmage, gather your magi. Braon—" When she said his name he blinked hard and swallowed. "—lead us . . . and gather everyone else. I have always trusted the Oracle, and so I shall trust you." Her tone became one of ringing authority and she cast a sharp look at Deiran. “As of this moment, I relinquish all military command to Braon. He is now, and will be, our battle commander until we either survive by some miracle, or perish. Let us pray the Oracle has chosen him wisely, for every life in Lumineia now rests in his hands.” Her eyes flicked to Telerial and Ladarius, both of whom looked about to protest.  Her gaze was wide and challenging, against which their eyes dropped to the table.

With that said, she nodded sympathetically at Braon and swept from the room. Again silence enveloped them as everyone looked at the individuals around them, wondering who would survive the coming conflict.

Taryn found himself holding Liri's hand and looking at the young man bowing his head in front of him. In his heart he wondered if the two of them would be able to perform their assigned tasks, for quite literally the weight of the world rested on their shoulders.

Taryn had never felt so small.

Chapter 28: The Prophecy

"Do you think we have a chance?" Taryn asked Siarra as they stood at the battlements on the highest level of Azertorn. She didn’t respond for several minutes, and they both watched the sun begin to set on the horizon. Bright light gradually faded from yellow to orange and then slowly to red before the sun sank below the horizon and darkness blanketed the countryside.

"I honestly don't know, Taryn." She sighed and looked at him. For the first time he felt like she was his older sister and he realized he had missed her while he was growing up. "I can feel them coming," she said, her voice soft, "and I can feel us fighting, but after that there is . . . nothing. There is simply too much that our survival depends on, too many factors for me to sense past."

"Do you think I can do it?" Taryn asked, unable to meet her penetrating gaze.

"No question," she replied with a compassionate smile on her lips.

He sighed, and neither spoke for several minutes until Taryn asked a question that had been nagging him. "I asked you something before, but I didn’t get an answer. I was wondering why you trained with a sword, especially considering your magical abilities and all."

She glanced at him, her expression tender. "Because our mother's weapon was a blade, a katsana, and I guess I wanted to be close to her." Her eyes seemed to stare right through him for a moment. “I used to train with her, you know. We would as often as we could, both with weapons and with magic."

"Is it common for Oracles to train in combat?" he asked. For some reason it seemed odd for a magi to use a weapon.

She shrugged. "Normally they were taught the basics, although I don’t think very many had to
use
their battle training. Despite that, there have been quite a few Oracles in the past that have chosen to train extensively with a weapon and enchant one of their choosing. Any such items are exceptionally rare and incredibly powerful."

Taryn drew Ianna from the sheath on his back and laid it on the stone in front of them. "Was this hers?"

Siarra's eyes lit up at the sight of the glimmering weapon, and she gently took it from him. Reverently, she slid her finger up the flat side.

"I haven't seen this sword in many years—and yes, it was hers." She morphed it to the bow and back again, sighing in deep satisfaction before returning it to him.

"I was there when she enchanted it to become a bow." She smiled at the memory. "This particular spell of transfiguration is no easy feat—even for an Oracle, but I believe she meant for you to have it. She made it a few months before she left with Mazer."

Taryn returned Ianna to its scabbard and drew his father's sword. "What about this?"

Gently she took the long katsana, musing to herself. "Hmm, now this is new." She stroked the sharp edge, eliciting a dull flash of light that cut her finger.

Chuckling she rubbed her finger and it healed quickly. "It's a sharpening augmentation, plus a few other . . . 
enhancements
. The sharpening enchantment alone is one of the trickiest imaginable and requires the utmost skill and focus in metal magic, a highly advanced type of stone energy." She paused and ran her healed finger along the engraved name. "Mazer . . .," she murmured. "She must have made this for him before her power was lost." She palmed the hilt and flicked the tip outward. "Perfectly balanced, but I do believe it was like that before she added her touch." She met his gaze. "It's definitely your father’s weapon."

Taryn smiled sadly and took the offered hilt. "I wish I could have known them."

Siarra nodded, her expression mirroring his own. "I know how you feel. I wish Ianna were here to help me figure out what I am supposed to do."

"I think you are doing pretty well on your own."

She looked dubious, but that only made him laugh out loud. Struggling to speak he said, "I know you made a permanent impact on the High Council's table."

"You can stuff it, you know," she said with a mock angry look. Then her brow furrowed. "I just can't stand stupid people," she said with a sigh, "especially in our current situation. I guess I just don't have much patience." She laughed out loud. “Mother used to tell me that it would take me centuries to learn patience because I could never hold my tongue.”

"Don't worry about them," Taryn laughed. "I think they understand what is coming now."

All their humor evaporated in an instant as the thought of Draeken returned. "Well, we definitely have some work to do," he said.

Behind them a familiar voice spoke up. "Yes, we certainly do." They turned to see Liri approaching. She leaned against the wall beside them with a worn sigh.

"I had to wrap up the council while the rest of you got to scatter."

She sounded jealous at their freedom, but Taryn decided not to tease her. Instead he asked, "Where did Trin and Mae head off to?"

Finally she chuckled, "They went with Jack to Aléthya's bar. I think I heard Trin saying something about needing a stiff drink and Jack agreed with him wholeheartedly."

Siarra smirked. "I don't think they were the only ones. I'm pretty sure some of the high council are drowning themselves in a bottle right now."

He grinned at the image. "How'd you find us, anyway?"

She laughed and nudged him affectionately. "I know about you and high places, especially when you want to think. I knew you would be up here."

Taryn flashed her a wry smile, unsurprised that she'd read him so easily. Liri then added, with an edge of seriousness behind the quip: "You aren't supposed to be predictable you know. It makes you easy to kill."

A gust of chill air blew past them, and she leaned against him for warmth. After a moment she murmured, "But only be unpredictable to your enemies. Your friends
should
know where you will be and what you will do, so they can be there to help."

He chuckled at her comment, knowing it to be true. For several minutes, silence stretched between them, each of them contemplating their thoughts of the previous few hours.

Without warning, lightning flashed behind them and they all turned to see that a storm was brewing in the east. Knowing that the weather had nothing to do with Draeken did little to ease his mind. The ensuing thunderclap felt like a physical blow, and Taryn couldn’t help glancing behind him, wishing the sun hadn't gone down so fast. It felt like the storm in the dark had chased away the light, and he found himself worrying that the light would not return.

The ominous clouds lit up every few minutes as more lightning streaked through the black night. Stars began to disappear, slowly eaten up by the encroaching gale.

—Suddenly Taryn felt a current of magic begin to flow around him and into his sister. Subtle yet powerful, it steadily built into a tidal wave of sheer force. Invisible, the swirling energy pulsed with forbidding strength, until finally Siarra broke the stillness, her tone dark and soft, but ringing in the voice of prophecy.