The Chronicles of Lumineia: Book 02 - The Gathering (11 page)

"How did
he become a thief then?" Siarra asked.

"As to
that," Agrial shrugged, "I cannot say. After he slew his father, I
never saw him again—until today that is. We heard plenty though. When the tales
of a thief called the 'cheater of death' surfaced, we guessed it to be him. The
abilities of a panther are unmistakable if you know what to look for."

Agrial lapsed
into a silence that lasted until he turned to them with a grunt. "I hope
you have learned what you need to know. If you wish to know more, you would
have to ask him. I doubt anyone knows the full story of Jack Myst, except for
him."

Taryn didn't
hear Siarra's response. He couldn’t settle the mixture of feelings that swirled
in him. He felt anger towards Jack's father, worry for Jack, and frustration at
himself. He doubted there was anything he could do for the thief now, but he
couldn't dispel the desire to help.

As the druid
departed, he followed Siarra into the hut to find three bunk beds placed around
a clean room. A fire had been laid and burned in the corner, warding off the
cool night and brightened the cabin.

A bark of
laughter burst from Trin, startling them all. “I get the top bunk!” he crowed
and leapt to the top of one of the beds.

Liri giggled
and mirrored his movements, taking one of the other top beds. Somehow, Siarra
managed a warm smile as she accepted a bowl of stew from Mae. "OK
children, you win." She flashed a grin at Taryn. "But I get the last
one.”

There was a
warning glint in Siarra's eye that kept him from voicing what they had learned.
For some reason, she didn't want the others to know about Jack. Although he didn't
understand why, he trusted his sister enough to force a smile. "I don't
mind the bottom."

Mae downed the
rest of her stew without a word and took the bunk underneath Trin. Distracted
by her behavior, Taryn's thoughts turned to Mae. She'd always been taciturn,
but in the last few days she'd spoken even less than normal. Not for the first
time, he wished he knew more about her. Although he considered her one of his
closest friends, she had never volunteered information about her time before
Sri Rosen. The only thing he knew was that she'd come to the training island
two years early, an oddity that had never been explained.

He chewed on
the vegetables in the stew, wondering if the reason he knew so little was
because he'd never asked. Perhaps she'd opened up to Trin, or someone else.
He'd wondered before if he was a poor friend, and this time he found himself
believing it a little more. It was a thought that swirled in his mind for
several minutes as other examples from his life surfaced to support it.

"Taryn!"
Liri called to him, and he spun to look at her. The look she flashed him made
it obvious it wasn't the first time she'd said his name. "Are you done
with your dinner yet?"

With a start,
he realized that everyone was in bed except for him. Feeling guilty, he moved
away from the diminished fire and slipped into the bed below Liri. For a long
time, he lay awake, unable to calm his mind. Draeken, Newhawk, Jack, Mae, and
Liri bombarded him for attention in his thoughts. Each presented a puzzle that could
not be solved within the solitude of his head, so none of the voices got any
quieter.

Growling under
his breath, he rolled over and reached for his cloak, folded it, and stuck it
under his head in an effort to get more comfortable. Instead, he smashed his
cheekbone into something hard. Bruised and irritated, he unrolled his cloak and
searched the pockets until he found a small package hidden in one of them.
Unwrapping it, he found a glass orb and a note. A chill swept through him as he
recognized the ball. Avoiding eye contact he stuffed it back into his cloak,
leaving the piece of parchment free. Silently he moved closer to the fire to
read it.

Choose
wisely.

Siarra

Taryn eased
himself back to his bunk and stared at the fire. Siarra had left him a way to
catch a glimpse of the war and his own future. Once again, the tremendous burden
of so many lives settled down on him as Draeken pushed to the forefront of his
thoughts.

He threw a
look at Liri's bunk, and felt a stab of fear. The thought of her losing her
life was unbearable. The thought of her losing it because of him was
excruciating. How could he know which choice would save her? Was he doomed to
fail? He wanted to believe that there was a future where he could tell her how
he felt, and that she would reciprocate those feelings, but couldn't bear the
thought of voicing his heart—and then watch her be killed because of him.

What if he
told her and she felt the same?

The thrill of
excitement was short lived. He doubted she felt that way. Turning his mind back
to the prophetic orb, he did his best not to think of Liri.

He wrestled
with the choice until after midnight, but made no progress towards a decision.
The haunting thought was that by not making a choice, it was the same as
choosing not to look.

*****

Rising before
dawn the group was out the door within minutes, only delayed by Trin’s
reluctance to rise. Finding their horses outside and packed with extra food for
their journey; they mounted and began working their way to the road north. In
every direction a bustle of activity revealed that Newhawk had convinced the
council to join the elves. Druids and animals alike rushed past them carrying
supplies to join a small row of wagons that had already formed.

Nearing the
edge of the village they paused to look back. Taryn knew that the gathering was
necessary, but it still felt wrong to cause this. Families were abandoning
their homes, and the city would be vacant within days. Would there be anything
left for them to return to? Would there be anyone to return at all? The image
of the druids marching to their death was too much to bear, and he turned his
horse north. Within moments the forest enveloped them and the sounds of Keilera
faded behind them.

Taryn listened
to Trin complain about the early hour but his thoughts dwelled on the prophetic
orb. When they reached the road and turned north, the conversation lightened as
Liri asked Siarra to explain more about magic.

For the next
several hours they plodded northward listening to the Oracle describe different
types of magic and their properties. Grateful for the distraction, Taryn listened
to her talk about energy.

Around noon
they stopped for lunch before pressing on. Just as they mounted, Jack appeared
through the forest and without a word joined the group. If he noticed the
curious glances in his direction, he gave no sign. For most of the afternoon Siarra
continued to talk about magic as they followed the road north, occasionally
crossing small streams until the vegetation began to thin. Cresting a small
rise, they came in sight of a wide prairie. Aside from the high waving grass, a
few outcroppings of rock and scattered trees could be seen shimmering red as
the sun began to set.

“The plains of
Adbar,” Liri said, and pointed into the distance where the mountains reached
their summits towards the heavens. “That's the Dwarven Mountains of Tyndrik. We
should camp here for the night and cross the plains during the day. Lions and
other dangerous animals hunt at night, and it will take most of the day to
cross at this point.”

“What do you
mean by
other
animals?” Trin asked.

Surprisingly
Jack answered before Liri could. “These grasslands are home to several kinds of
larger animals. Elephants, lions, rhinos, and many other beasts roam them, but
the most dangerous is a great striped cat called a Tigron. They can be as big
as fifteen feet long and as tall as you are, Trin—and are faster than the
quickest stallion.”

“How do you know
about that?” Liri asked. “Very few people have seen a Tigron and lived, and
they aren’t very well known.”

Jack shrugged
and lifted the sleeve of his right arm to reveal dual scars that ran all the
way from his elbow to his shoulder. It looked like two huge fangs had bitten
into his shoulder and torn downward.

“When did that
happen?” Liri gasped.

“A long time
ago,” Jack answered with a shrug.

After a moment
of silence, Taryn volunteered to collect some wood for a fire. Jack tethered
his steed next to Taryn’s and started unpacking food for dinner, commenting
that it was his turn to make the meal. Hiding his surprise, Taryn slipped into
the forest to look for dry wood. Enjoying the solitude, he took his time until he
found a dead tree and began to snap branches.

When he
returned, a small fire was already going, and the food above it made his mouth
water. Adding his wood to the small pile that someone else had gathered, he sat
down and accepted a plate from Jack.

"What is
it?" Taryn asked, reaching for a fork.

"Grilled
venison, spiced potatoes, and raspberry bread," Jack replied, his smirk
unmistakable in his tone.

"You
should cook more often," Mae said, flashing a rare smile at him.

Taryn had
trouble getting his next words out, his mouth was so full. "You should
take my turn. We all know I can't cook."

"That's
an understatement," Trin scoffed, taking another bite of the roll.

Taryn joined
their laughter. His lack of cooking ability was one of the weaknesses he'd come
to accept.

"Where
did you get the recipe?" Liri asked, licking her lips.

Jack paused
before he answered, "My mother taught me to cook . . . before she
died."

Taryn
exchanged a look with Siarra behind Jack's back, and almost missed Liri's next
words.

"I am
sorry about your mother, but your cooking is divine. Is there any way we can convince
you to cook every night?"

A sly grin
flashed on Jack's features. "If you buy the supplies, then I will take
Taryn's turn."

At first,
Taryn couldn't understand why the thief had volunteered for the extra duty, but
as he watched everyone readily agree to his proposal, he had to wonder if it
was exactly as the thief had planned the conversation to go. As far as Taryn
knew, Jack had never volunteered for any kind of work. Then he caught a glimpse
of Jack dropping something into what he knew to be an empty pot. Within seconds
he lifted it off the fire and asked, "Anyone want seconds?"

Raising his
plate like everyone else, he saw Siarra give him a loaded look as she mouthed
'magic'. Realizing the truth, Taryn suppressed a smile. Somehow, Jack was using
magic to cook, which explained how he'd been able to prepare it so fast.

And perhaps
why it was so tasty.

Chapter
9: A Father's Legacy

Taryn rode
through the plains of Adbar in advance of his friends, squinting to see through
the waves of heat. Wary of danger, he kept his eyes on the swaying, waist high
grass. Although there had been frequent signs of lions, nothing else had been
spotted.

Nearing the
opposite side of the plains, Taryn began to breathe a little easier as the
grasslands gave way to rockier terrain and scattered trees. An audible sigh of
relief came from Trin as they rode into the first shade they’d had all day. Finally
out of the sun, they eased themselves off their sweaty mounts and ate in the
cool shadow of a great oak.

After the meal,
they continued their journey, veering east before the slope became too steep.
They followed the base of a mountain range until it curved north into a
depression between two towering peaks. Moving into the pass they followed the
road higher and higher as it drove deeper into the range.

Shaded by the
peak to the west, the pass felt considerably cooler than the plains, and as sky
darkened, Taryn donned his riding cloak. Despite the chill, he found himself
enjoying the ride. Thick woods grew tall on either side of the narrow but
well-maintained highway.

Occasionally Taryn
asked Siarra about their mother, or Liri about her home, but for the most part
everyone kept to themselves. Taryn was about to ask more about the dwarves when
the road straightened and a colossal wall came into view. Well over two hundred
feet high, the battlements spanned the two peaks on either side. An enormous
portcullis closed the opening in the ramparts and figures moved on the
battlements.

“Welcome to
the dwarven kingdom,” Siarra exclaimed with a smile.

“Land of the
shortest, ugliest people in Lumineia,” Jack whispered from the back and Trin
snickered.

As they
approached the fortifications, a rumble of thunder reverberated and the first
drops of rain began to fall. Coming to a halt, a gravelly voice called down to
them.

“Who are you,
and what business do you have here?”

Siarra
answered, her high voice echoing off the rocks around them. “I am the Oracle, Siarra
Elseerian, come to speak to your king.”

After a moment
the guard called down, “The Oracle never leaves the eastern forest.”

Before Siarra
could reply Jack said, “This Oracle does!”

She threw him
a dark look and added, “There was an attempt on my life, forcing my departure.”

At that
comment the activity on top of the wall increased, and the large portcullis
began to rise. Creaking in protest the iron barrier lifted high enough for them
to pass under without dismounting. They entered the tunnel under the wall and
rode for fifty feet before coming out on the other side, to be greeted by two
armor clad dwarves.

“I am sorry,
Oracle, for our reluctance,” he growled. “But the mist of terror only recently
departed, and many of our people are still wary.”

She smiled
warmly in response and dismounted to clasp the dwarf’s forearm. “I understand,
but it is vital that we speak to your king—tonight if possible.”