The Chronicles of Lumineia: Book 02 - The Gathering (26 page)

“What weapons
shall we fight with?” the king asked, his confidence bordering on belligerence.

Braon pointed
at his head. “We will fight with our minds.” He heard a few chuckles in
response to his choice. For the first time the king’s smile faltered, and he
glanced at his guards in confusion.

“Do you wish
to withdraw your challenge?” Braon asked, struggling to keep the hope from his
voice.

The king
growled, “What are the terms, boy, so I may destroy you and take your men.”

“Simple,”
Braon stated. “There is a pool of water at the base of the great tree called
Mirror’s Edge. The first to fill their flask and return it to this room will be
the victor.”

The king’s
brow furrowed as he fought to understand, and then asked, “The rules?”

Braon allowed
a small smile. “
None
.”

Emeka smirked,
and Braon could already imagine the king waiting somewhere to strike him down.
With eyes now eager he asked, “When do we begin?”

Without
hesitation Braon reached for two water skins nearby and tossed one to the king.
“Immediately.”

Emeka’e eyes
widened, and then he whirled and sprinted from the room while Braon remained
still. Ignoring the babble of confused voices he turned to Newhawk. “Mind if I
catch a ride?” he asked, and the druid started to laugh even as he began
running towards the stairs. Braon jumped to follow him and tried to keep up
with the druid’s long legs. In moments they reached the garden roof and together
they leapt onto Reiquen’s back. In a rush of wind the great bird dropped from
the roof and spread his great fiery wings.

Gliding down
to the bowl of Azertorn, they reached the pond in seconds. Braon slid from the
warm ride to the edge of the large pool. Crouching, he hurried to fill his
flask and cursed when he almost dropped it in his haste. Finishing, he remounted
the giant bird. Just as they sprang into the sky he saw the ebony king enter
the gardens, a look of dismay on his face as he caught sight of Braon.

Newhawk
chuckled in front of him. “Don’t you think this is cheating?” he asked.

“I told him
there were no rules,” Braon said, careful to keep both his pounding heart and
his pride out of his voice.

From inside
his head he heard Reiquen join in the druid's laughter that didn’t end until
they had returned to the House of Runya. Dropping from the phoenix's back he
paused only to express his gratitude to Reiquen before they disappeared inside.
Hurrying as fast as he could, he raced back to the command center. Just before
he entered, he slowed to a fast walk and turned the corner. Entering to cheers
from his friends—and to his surprise the king's guards—he returned to his
previous position and spun to face the doors.

It took
another full minute before Emeka entered the room again, to be greeted by a
hushed silence. Embarrassed and angry, he growled, “That was not right! I
demand a second challenge!”

Braon shook
his head and didn’t let a shred of condescension leak onto his face. “According
to your laws, you and all your men now belong to me, and a second challenge
cannot be issued for a full year.”

Emeka glowered
and had to swallow hard, but lost control and shouted, “But you cheated!”

“Name the rule
that I broke and you may claim victory,” Braon said, his chin rising in
challenge.

Emeka opened
his mouth to speak, but grunted instead. From behind him a thin figure
separated itself from the other dark-skinned guards. Stepping to the king’s
side, the beautiful ebony woman said, “I am Adaeze, and on behalf of my father
we accept your leadership.”

Braon inclined
his head to the woman’s controlled response. “Welcome to the gathering, King of
the Azüre people. I am glad you received our message, and even more grateful
that Chief Emeka had the ability to gather the tribes—a truly legendary feat."

Again Braon
gave a respectful nod to Emeka and held his gaze until the king reluctantly inclined
his head. Straightening, Braon asked, “How many do you bring?”

Adaeze
answered, “Over sixty-five thousand warriors.”

“And women and
children?” Braon pressed.

“Another
hundred thousand women, elderly, and children,” Adaeze answered.

“Who do not
fight,” Emeka added, his voice resentful.

“They will,”
Braon exclaimed. Then he took a step forward and addressed Emeka, “Great King,
I ask that you command one of our seven battalions, as one of my generals.”

Bewildered,
the king blurted, “But defeat means banishment or execution.”

Braon gave a
sad smile and shook his head. “You fought other chiefs, gathered thousands of
people, united many tribes to bring them here, and all because you believed the
messenger we sent you.”

Emeka shrugged
in bewilderment, but Braon continued in a quiet voice that pierced the room.
“We need you, Chief Emeka, to lead your united people into battle. Our lives
will rest on your shoulders, and our trust will rest in your men
and
women as they help us defend ourselves.” Then he raised his voice to ring into
the large chamber, “You have a divine destiny, great Chief, as do the rest of
us. You will lead your people into battle, and I will guide you to that victory
as you fight alongside the other races.”

His voice
echoed around the room and Emeka straightened in response. “For me and my
people, I accept your command.”

Braon didn't
like the glint in the king's eye, but politically he was already committed. He turned
to Thacker. “Have Jake and his guards meet general Emeka and his chosen chiefs
at The Ridge.” Then he looked at Newhawk and said, “Join them there and explain
his Link, and instruct him on our defenses and strategy. Make sure he begins
training appropriately.”

Newhawk nodded
and moved to speak to Thacker. As Emeka turned to leave, Braon stepped forward
and raised his hand. “General Emeka, it was a pleasure to meet you.”

The chief
hesitated, then threw out a bark of laughter and took the offered forearm.
“Next time, I will know better than to let you choose the terms.”

Braon smiled,
but didn't miss the implied threat of the statement. He then clasped hands with
Adaeze, who unlike her father, seemed at ease as she looked down on his small
form. “I believe you will guide us to victory, young Commander.” She said with
a light exotic accent. “For all our sakes, I hope you do.” Without waiting for
a response she turned and followed her father and his guards out of the room.

Braon didn’t
move until they had exited, and then let out an explosive breath. Ignoring the
comments that burst out, he turned and entered his office. Closing the door
behind him, he poured himself a glass of water. Draining it, he wiped the sheen
of moisture from his forehead. He was ashamed to notice that his hands were
shaking, so he clenched them into tight balls.

After several
deep breaths he managed to calm himself enough to answer the knock on the door.
Opening it he saw Rokei and Thacker both standing outside with concerned
expressions.

“Are you OK, sir?”
the elf asked.

Braon forced a
smile and replied, “I’m fine, but it’s about lunch time. Do you mind having a
meal brought up here? I have a few plans to look at while I eat. Then I can
address the next concerns after.”

They appeared
uncertain, but turned away as he'd ordered. Before Braon could close the door
again Newhawk stepped into view and asked for direction on several topics.
Unable to send him away without answers, he allowed him into his office. Once
they were alone Newhawk broke into a laugh.

“I would have
expected nothing less from you, Braon, but it still came as a surprise.”
Newhawk said.

Braon sighed
and said, “I did what had to be done. Now can we focus on what you asked?”

Newhawk
snorted. “That was just to get me in here. All those problems I solved earlier
today, but I do have a more serious question.”

Braon couldn’t
decide whether to be angry at the manipulative tactic—and the fact that he’d
missed it—or grateful for his second’s concern. Settling on gratitude, he
asked, “What is your question?”

Newhawk leaned
forward, and his serious expression forced Braon to pay attention. “With such a
large army coming towards us, I believe the battle won’t be like a normal
battle.” Braon guessed where he was headed, but gave him a nod to allow him to
finish. “This won’t be a conflict where they attack during the day and stop for
the night . . . will it.”

 “I don’t
think so," Braon replied. "It is far more likely that the assault
will be continuous. From what I have read, they will not retreat—or stop—for
any reason.”

Newhawk sank
into a chair and massaged his neck. “How can we possibly fight all day and
night? Sheer exhaustion will overtake us long before we reach the seventh day.”

Braon grinned
and pointed to the parchment in front of him. “That is why we won’t fight in a traditional
manner either.” Standing, he went to the model of the cliff that had recently
been updated. Pointing at the Eastern Falls battalion, he said, “A single
battalion will be broken into three divisions, the front, the reserves, and the
secondary reserves. Every eight hours they will rotate forward. The secondary
reserve will become the reserve, and the reserve will move to the front line
against the cliff. Then the front will move to the rear to become the secondary
reserve. Understand so far?”

Newhawk appeared
puzzled, but he cave a curt nod, so Braon continued, “Every person at the front
lines will be fighting every second during their shift and should be more than
ready to rest when it ends. While in the secondary reserve position, every soldier
will sleep for eight hours before moving forward to first reserves. The first
reserves will be called on whenever the front lines are hard pressed, or if a
breach occurs.”

 “It’s
brilliant," Newhawk said, "but we can’t just make men stay up all
night and sleep during the day during the battle, we have to start training
them early.”

“That is why
you will change their training schedule starting tomorrow morning,” Braon said,
withdrawing the orders he'd drawn up days ago. “I wanted to wait until I had at
least four of my generals in place, and now that Emeka is here, we do. Use your
Link to summon all four to a meeting tomorrow morning. Summon the interim
generals as well. Explain what they need to do and tell them to begin this
rotation at once."

"It is
vital that each time a division rotates to the front, they need to be in
constant training for their entire shift. We need to build up their endurance,
especially for the weaker races, such as the elves. Also, have the first
reserve work on fortifications, fashioning weapons, or other work assignments.”

“What about
the dwarves?” Newhawk asked.

 “There is no
exception to the rotation, but any dwarf that has the stamina to work during
their sleep time may work on their assigned task. No other race is to be
allowed that opportunity. In addition, you may exempt the dwarves from sparring
or practicing during their battle shift unless they choose to do so. Otherwise
have General Onix continue their work on the walls and other battlements. We
both know that few dwarves are not trained in battle.”

Newhawk
reached for a clean piece of parchment and scribbled down some notes, and then
handed the piece of paper to Braon for review. As Braon read the additional orders,
he checked to make sure they reflected the rotations and then signed the
bottom. Handing the orders back to his second he added, “One more thing. Make
sure the generals follow the same schedule, although they won’t rotate and
should remain at the rear of the front lines. It’s important they each select a
lieutenant general that will lead the defenses while they sleep. Ensure they
pick well, and not for purely political reasons. The lieutenant general will
replace them if they are killed.”

“I understand
commander, and will fulfill your orders with exactness.” Newhawk said. Then his
face split into a grin. “And excellent job handling Emeka.”

Braon allowed
a tight smile, but before he could return to the work on his desk, Newhawk added,
“You should know that word has leaked that you are in charge, not me.” He began
walking towards the door and added, “At first many were angry or afraid, but
anyone who has met you—such as your generals—has stood by you. They are
beginning to trust you, Commander.”

Braon leaned
back and replayed the words that Newhawk had said as he left the room, but it
did not have the desired effect that his second had wished. Rather than make
him feel buoyed, he felt more pressure. More and more lives were depending on
him. Mothers were placing their faith in his ability to succeed; fathers were
trusting that he would save their families. Brothers and sisters depended on
him to save their loved ones.  With his stomach in knots he prayed with all his
soul that he would not fail them . . . or himself.

Part III

One week and six days until
Draeken’s army reaches Azertorn

Chapter
21: The Flesh of War

Taryn’s eyes snapped
up as a shadow moved in the predawn light. Curious, he rose to his feet,
stretching sore muscles while covertly scanning the surrounding area. For the
last several days since they had left Ryazan, they had encountered no one in
the endless stretch of dry land north of the Blue Lake. Known as the Deadlands,
the blistering desert boasted little life. In every direction scrub brush and
small twisted trees dominated the uneven ground, leaving hundreds of places to
hide, and forced them to slow their pace to avoid detection. The gnome king had
warned them that if they were spotted by orcs, gnomes, or worse, trolls, then
they could be attacked.