“There is no choice if you are to escape with your sister. That is why we came, is it not?” The Forsworn One’s drake circled lower, within striking distance.
“Do not make me choose!” Golaron’s face was anguished.
Another echoing boom of thunder split the sky. Linwyn watched the exchange, feeling very much an outsider. The all-consuming desolation of the Forsworn sank its claws into her soul. The sky went dark.
The drake banked and inhaled, preparing to let loose an icy blast. But just as its maw was about to open, a blinding bolt of lightning cracked down from the heavens, striking the beast. The drake dropped from the air like a stone.
Fortunately it fell outside the city, or they would have been crushed. The ground shook from the impact.
The spell of fear was broken. Linwyn shook herself. The horrid stench of charred flesh filled the air. For a moment, there was silence. Then a cheer erupted from the dwarves and the refugees of Nal Nungalid.
The dark creatures scattered and fled now that their unifying force had been destroyed. But Linwyn knew the Forsworn One was not dead. It would flee to its home in the dark lands to heal, but it would return.
A familiar figure in crimson robes emerged from the fog as the first drops of rain began to fall.
“Lysandir!” Golaron cried.
“We meet again. And in the nick of time, it seems. I thought I might find you here.” Lysandir gave a tired smile. He seemed older somehow since Linwyn had seen him last.
She sighed. Now they were all reunited. She suppressed a hot surge of disappointment. Although she had known Golaron would come for her, she had secretly hoped to find Iarion on the doorstep of her prison instead. The elf hadn’t even come looking for her now that the fight was over. He was nowhere to be seen. A warrior such as he should have had no problem reaching the great hall during the battle.
Her disappointment was suddenly replaced by fear. The last time she had seen Iarion was during the battle in the Daran Falnun.
What if something had happened to him? Anger and panic warred inside her as she pictured different scenarios. She couldn’t decide what would be worse: Iarion not caring enough to see how she fared now that the battle was over, or learning he had died without her at his side.
Linwyn forced her frantic thoughts still, and made her voice calm and even.
“Golaron, where is Iarion?”
– Chapter Thirty-Seven –
Catching Up
“I don’t know.” It was the best answer Golaron could give his sister’s question before she had heard an explanation.
“What do you mean, you don’t know! Iarion is the one bearing the Stariquenya. He is the heart of this quest!” Linwyn threw her arms up in the air.
“He and Barlo got separated from the rest of us during the battle. When Silvaranwyn and I discovered you had been taken prisoner, we had to make a choice. We decided to come after you.” Golaron kept his frustration under control, trying to sound reasonable.
“So you don’t even know whether he is still alive!” He heard a note of panic in his sister’s voice. “He could have been captured, or perhaps killed and the Stariquenya could be back in the Fallen One’s possession!”
Golaron opened his mouth to respond, but Lysandir stepped in. “If that were the case, you would have been of no further value here alive. The Forsworn One wouldn’t have hesitated to kill you. Do not make the mistake of underestimating Iarion. Or Barlo, for that matter.”
Although Lysandir’s logic was sound, Linwyn persisted. “You should not have come for me. You should have gone after Iarion instead. I am not as important.”
“You are to me!” Golaron could not stop his voice from breaking. “It wasn’t an easy decision, Linwyn. But Silvaranwyn told me she sensed Iarion had chosen to leave the rest of us behind to continue on his own. He made his own choice, and I have respected it.” The elf maid sat on the steps of the great hall, just out of earshot, resting.
Linwyn put a hand on Golaron’s arm. “I am grateful you came for me. Really, I am. It’s just that Iarion…” Linwyn shook her head in frustration. “What do we do now?”
“We aid Iarion in whatever way we can,” Lysandir said. “We cannot possibly reach him now, even if we knew where to look. But we do know where he is headed.”
“Melaquenya,” Linwyn said, a look of hope dawning in her eyes.
“Saviadro also knows this. He is gathering his armies for a final assault on the Light Elves.” Lysandir sighed. “It is not as I had planned it, but we must make do with the situation. If we can move south and rally an army of our own as we go, perhaps we will be able to create a distraction and buy Iarion the time he needs to complete his quest.”
“What of the Fallen One?” Linwyn asked, her eyes narrowing. “How did you escape from him?”
“I appealed to his pride.” Lysandir’s silver eyes took on a faraway look. “I killed Numarin in combat and claimed it was he who helped you to escape, wanting the Stariquenya for himself. It wasn’t far from the truth. Numarin had entertained such thoughts. Once he was dead, I took his place at Saviadro’s side, playing the worshiping son he has always wanted. Once he trusted me enough to leave me unwatched, I slipped out of Mar Valion, using the same tunnels you did. His Forsworn were still busy hunting you.
“I took the pass back to the Lone Cave. I already knew a woman had been taken captive at Nal Nungalid as a lure for the Stariquenya. The report had reached Saviadro the day before I left. At Dwarfwatch, I learned of the planned attack on the city. The dwarven army had already left two days before I arrived. I headed here with all speed, hoping to reach you in time. I had assumed you would all be together, but that is clearly not the case.”
“No, it is not.” Linwyn could not seem to let it go.
“The good news is Saviadro also has no idea of Iarion’s whereabouts.” Lysandir met Linwyn’s gaze. “If we try to find him, we will lead the Forsworn right to him. We must do the best we can without him.”
“Then what are we waiting for?” Linwyn asked. “We have no time to lose.”
Golaron looked over at where the Silvaranwyn was resting. She still looked terrible. “But what about Silvaranwyn? She is in no condition to leave.”
“Then she must be left behind.” Linwyn shrugged as though the matter were of little consequence.
Golaron felt a wave of fury surge up inside him. “Linwyn, she did this to herself to save you!” His hands balled into fists at his sides.
“For which I am grateful,” Linwyn said. “But she understands the importance of what we must do. She would only slow us down.”
Golaron was about to splutter a heated response, but the Learnéd One cut him off. “She is stronger than either of you realize. It is her choice to make. This quest is a part of her destiny. It may be that she still has a part left to play in it.”
“Is there nothing that can be done for her?” Golaron asked.
“There can be no turning back for her now.” Lysandir shook his head. “It is too late. Besides, I do not believe she would undo her actions even if she could. This is her fate. She knew the cost of embracing it.”
Golaron didn’t care about destiny. All he knew was that Silvaranwyn was in pain, and it wounded him to the quick to witness it. He ached to be able to do something for her. He hated feeling helpless. It wasn’t in him to be objective and logical like Lysandir where Silvaranwyn was concerned.
As though his thoughts had summoned her, the elf walked over to join them.
“I am coming with you,” she said in her soft voice. Her gaze was unwavering. She looked at Linwyn. “I will not slow you down.” Linwyn flushed.
“Take the next few hours to rest,” the Learnéd One said, eyeing all three of them. “I will talk to Galfidar to see whether any of his people will come south with us. It will be a start.”
“Then where will we go?” Golaron asked.
“The army of Nal Huraseadro has already been destroyed. There is only one other place in
the Upper Daran Nunadan where we might find allies.” Lysandir sighed. “We must return to the Fey Wood.”
– Chapter Thirty-Eight –
Playing it Safe
Barlo and Iarion languished on Rasdaria for two days. Although Barlo was thrilled to be back on land, he knew he would soon be forced to board a ship once more. It made his stomach roil just thinking about it.
The last two days had not been restful for Iarion. The three princesses of the Rasadar were relentless in their courtship. Each sister sought any opportunity to corner him alone until Iarion was forced to take refuge in the guest chambers he shared with Barlo. Even then, gifts were delivered by servants. Iarion became harried and restless. Now, he was pacing as Barlo sat with his feet propped on a low table. Sinstari was stretched out in a patch of sun.
“I’m glad you find this all so amusing.” Iarion’s tone was sarcastic. Barlo had made the mistake of allowing his glee at Iarion’s plight to show.
“Why don’t you just sleep with one of them and get it over with?” Barlo said, suppressing a laugh. “You seemed to have no problem bedding any of the Wild Elf princesses.”
“I can’t!” Iarion threw up his hands. “It’s different here. If I do, I will be forced to wed or incur the wrath of the lord and lady.”
“Married life can be good, my friend. And you could do far worse than a princess.” Barlo’s brown eyes followed Iarion as he paced.
“Don’t you think if I wanted to marry one of them, I would have by now? I can’t be tied down, Barlo. And what is so damned funny?” Iarion stopped his pacing to fold his arms across his chest, glaring at his friend.
Barlo tried to control himself. “It’s just with all we’ve been through together, with all you’ve been through, I’ve never seen you so, well, flustered!”
“I am not flustered.” Iarion turned to face Barlo and bit his lip, the corners of his mouth twitching. Barlo knew his laugh was contagious.
Iarion drew himself up and continued. “I am diplomatically challenged. Elves do not get flustered. We are naturally stoic creatures.”
Barlo guffawed. “Well you’ve just ruined that reputation!”
They shared a good, long laugh before Iarion turned serious again. “I’m sorry I’ve been so wound up. There’s just so much at stake. They’re lovely young women, but I cannot afford to get entangled with any of them when I need their parents’ help.”
“At least they give good gifts,” Barlo said.
Iarion had received a new bow, a quiver full of arrows, a waterproofed cloak with matching boots, as well as new leather bracers and a belt that had a buckle inlaid with pearl.
Iarion eyed the pile of brightly ribboned items. “Yes, well they are all things I could use. I just don’t know whether I feel right keeping them.”
“I think you deserve it for what they’re putting you through,” Barlo said with a smile.
Iarion was about to respond when there was a knock at the door. Iarion groaned. Barlo chuckled and called for the visitor to enter. It was a young elf, one who served the lord and lady. He said something in Elvish and left. Barlo looked to his friend.
“The lord and lady will see us now,” Iarion translated.
“Well it’s about bloody time,” Barlo grumbled, rising.
The lord and lady were already waiting in the audience hall. Feoras was also there, standing behind them. Their three daughters stood off to the side to watch the proceedings. For once, they seemed serious and well behaved.
“Thank you for coming,” Telariras said. “I am sorry for making you wait. I hope your stay here has been hospitable.” Barlo thought he saw a twinkle in the lord’s silver eyes.
“We have reached a decision concerning your request for aid,” Raslynia said, taking pity on Iarion. “I am afraid it will not be entirely to your liking.”
“Feoras has brought us under the scrutiny of the Fallen One,” the lord said. “Unfortunately, we cannot assist you in any direct way that will be noticed. Saviadro undoubtedly has some of his Forsworn in the area surrounding Melaquenya already, watching for any approach. Our ships would make easy targets for their drakes.”
“So what will you do?” Barlo asked. He didn’t like where this was headed.
“We have arranged for passage back to the mainland,” Telariras continued. “None of the Fallen One’s spies will think anything of one of our ships making berth at the Forest of the Sea. It is a common occurrence. You will be hidden below decks. From the mainland, our people will help you leave our lands undetected. Everyone has been instructed to deny any knowledge of your whereabouts. With luck, Saviadro will never know you were here.”
“That’s it?” Barlo spluttered. Iarion’s expression was crestfallen. “That’s all you can do?”
“We do not have the strength to stand against Saviadro directly,” Raslynia said with a shake of her head. “We are isolated from the other races. Our allies are too far away to come to our rescue, especially when they are already concerned with a far larger threat. We wish to help you, but we will not risk the annihilation of our people.”
“But if Saviadro gains the rest of the Quenya because of this, it won’t matter, will it?” Barlo demanded. “Do you think he’s going to reward you for good behavior?”
Iarion gestured for Barlo to be silent. With an effort, Barlo bit back the rest of his tirade.
“And you, Feoras?” Iarion said. “Where do you stand?”
“I am deeply troubled.” Feoras frowned. “Everything I have done, I did to protect these people. Perhaps I made a mistake by serving Saviadro, but I did it out of love. Now I am torn. I desperately want you to succeed in your mission, but I know your chances are slim. Even if I were to aid you, the odds would not be in your favor. If you should fail, we cannot afford to be linked to you.” He sighed before continuing.
“I am afraid I must agree with the lord and lady in this instance. I will have no further dealings with the Fallen One unless I am forced to maintain my cover. I promise I will not tell him what I know of you unless I am coerced, but I cannot help you.” Feoras looked sad.
“You are a Learnéd One!” Iarion insisted. His face was flushed and his iridescent eyes sparkled with anger. “Your kind was made to combat the Fallen One and his Forsworn, not to work with them. You owe everything to the Lord and Lady of the Linadar. They created you! And now you leave them to die?”
Feoras’s shoulders slumped in shame. “I am sorry. But I cannot turn my back on these people. I have lived among them for centuries! Besides, it is not entirely hopeless. You already have the Stariquenya and you have told us Lysandir is still on your side. He will help you. This is his task.”
“I do not even know whether Lysandir is still alive!” Iarion’s knuckles went white as he clenched his fists. “And make no mistake, if he were here, he would be saying the same things to you that I am saying now. The lord and lady’s decision, I can understand. They must act in their people’s best interest. But you are supposed to protect all the Free Races!” Iarion didn’t let up there. He took a breath and continued before Feoras could cut him off.
“And you were right the first time. There isn’t much hope of us succeeding, especially now that we are separated from Lysandir. You have the power to change that. This is about the fate of Lasniniar. You are either with us, or against us. If you choose to stay here and sit on your hands, you are doing nothing but condemning us to failure. No one knows how long you Learnéd Ones will live, but I would guess it is a long time. I just hope you will be able to live with your decision when Saviadro has claimed all the Quenya for himself and the world falls into darkness.”
Several long moments of silence followed in the wake of Iarion’s words. Barlo stared at his friend in shock. The elf’s flushed features were pinched. He had never seen Iarion so angry. He couldn’t blame him. Feoras was next to useless. With friends like these, who needed enemies?
Feoras was visibly wounded. He spread his hands wide. “I am sorry.” He turned
and left.
“We will have Alfiabalas prepare his ship to sail you to the mainland,” Raslynia said in a sad voice. “He should be ready by dawn tomorrow.”
“Thank you,” Iarion said. “We will go and prepare ourselves.” He bowed and walked out of the hall.
“We wouldn’t want to overstay our welcome,” Barlo grumbled, pitching his voice just loud enough for the others to hear as he followed Iarion back to their chambers.
Barlo slammed the door behind him as they entered, startling Sinstari. “Well this trip has been a complete waste of time! I wish we had never come to this blasted piece of rock.”
“At least we didn’t have to cross the Daran Falnun,” Iarion said, sighing as he sat. “And we have slipped from under Saviadro’s gaze. I did not expect much from the lord and lady, but I thought Feoras would help us.”
Another knock at the door broke off whatever Iarion was about to say next.
“What, do they want us to leave right now?” Barlo said as he rose to answer. He was surprised to find the three princesses on the other side. Their expressions were serious.
“May we come in?” Rasniwyn asked. Barlo stepped aside, allowing them to enter. From the hunted look on Iarion’s face, he was waiting for them to pounce on him.
“Do not worry, Iarion.” Nimrilriel smiled at him. “This is not a social visit.” Iarion visibly relaxed.
“We came to talk to you about our parents’ decision,” Rilriel said.
“We think they are making a mistake,” Rasniwyn said. Although she was the youngest of the three, she always seemed to take charge, Barlo had noticed.
“It is good to know you are on our side,” Iarion said. “But what can you do to aid us? I will not bring you with us.” A horrified look flashed across his face at the thought.
“No!” Rasniwyn gave a silvery laugh. “Of course not. Do not be ridiculous. But perhaps there is something we can do. Do not underestimate a parent’s love for their daughters. We can be most persuasive when we so choose.”
Soul Seeker (The World of Lasniniar Book 1) Page 28