Barlo forced himself to turn away and tugged at Iarion’s sleeve. Iarion whirled to face him. His eyes were wild with fear. Barlo yelled the only word he could think of.
“Run!”
– Chapter Forty-Eight –
Forsworn
Linwyn hated waiting. She and her army had spent the past night traveling to their predetermined positions. The dwarves and Earth Elves had taken the western flank, hiding in the Rolling Hills, while the Wood and Wild Elves had taken the eastern flank. They waited in the tall grass, just out of range of the dark army.
The plan was for both groups to attack at the same time after Lysandir had used his power to create chaos in the enemy camp. The two forces would cause as much damage as possible in the confusion before fleeing, leading the enraged and disorganized dark army north to where Linwyn and Belierumar’s cavalry waited. If the dark creatures took the bait, it would leave a clear path to Melaquenya open for Iarion.
Behind her, the fighting men and women of Belierumar awaited her command. Lysandir, Golaron, and Silvaranwyn were beside her on mounts of their own.
Linwyn did not know what Lysandir and Silvaranwyn had done, but it had left the elf maiden looking even worse for wear. Silvaranwyn’s hair and skin were almost completely dark now. Whatever their task, Linwyn hoped the results would be worth the price.
She pushed aside a surprising stab of pity and reminded herself that no cost was too great. She would do anything to ensure Iarion’s success. It was good to know Silvaranwyn would do the same. Linwyn only hoped it would not make the elf a liability in the coming battle.
The sky was dark and the air was still. It was the suspended time that came at the edge of night, just before dawn. Linwyn could just make out the edges of the unnatural cloud that sheltered their enemy. She hoped Lysandir’s plan involved getting rid of it. They needed every advantage they could get.
Although the goal was to draw the opposing army north, Linwyn and the remaining companions of the quest would travel south while Belierumar’s army kept the dark creatures pinned down. Their plan of attack was sound, but the Forsworn were another element altogether. They were tied to the Stariquenya and would not be fooled by their diversion tactics.
Linwyn, Golaron, Silvaranwyn, and Lysandir were going to use the distraction of the battle to ride into the heart of the enemy camp to try to find Iarion and give him whatever aid he needed. Linwyn had already passed her authority over Belierumar’s troops back to the general who had led them south from the city. With both her and Golaron charging into danger, Linwyn knew their plan could mean the end of their family line, but she also knew Golaron would never stay behind.
She brushed such morbid thoughts aside. If Iarion failed, it wouldn’t matter anyway.
“It is time,” Lysandir said as his silver eyes took on a faraway look. A few moments passed before they refocused. “I have given the signal.”
Both groups to the east and west bore a small lamp given by Lysandir. They would light simultaneously at his command to coordinate the attack.
“I will give the dark creatures something else to think about,” the Learnéd One said before his eyes unfocused once more.
From across the distance of the Adar Daran, Linwyn saw geysers of flame light the sky. Even from where their horses stood, she could hear the far-off screams. A smile of admiration tugged at the corners of her mouth. She was glad Lysandir was on their side.
She gathered her thoughts and checked her sword for the hundredth time. Soon the dark creatures would be driven to their location. Her mare snorted and danced under her, sensing the general unease. Linwyn gave her shoulder a reassuring pat.
Soon. Soon it would be time. She could only hope their plan would work.
Linwyn fidgeted with her reins as she heard a rumble that sounded like distant thunder. They were coming. The ground shook with thousands of running feet.
Linwyn held up her hand to signal her people to hold. She wanted to wait until the last moment, just before the dark creatures saw them, and were still fully committed to their attack. She narrowed her eyes, trying to pierce the fading darkness. A shadow was growing to the south, drawing nearer.
Not yet.
Linwyn held her army back, while every practical fiber in her body screamed at her to attack. To her army’s credit, no one moved. Her teeth were rattling in her skull, the footsteps were so close.
Now.
“Attack!” she yelled, nudging her heels to her horse’s flanks.
The mare sprang into action, followed by the others. Linwyn’s sword rang as it cleared its sheath. She held her shield ready as she leaned over her mount’s shoulders.
The dark creatures at the front of the charge saw them and tried to stop, but it was too late. The hordes following them could not see what was coming and rushed forward, helping to crush their own fighters under waiting hooves and swords.
The air quickly filled with the sounds of screams, war cries, and death knells. The metallic tang of blood was so strong, Linwyn could taste it.
A wild joy welled up inside her. With a savage cry, she leaned over and swung her sword at the closest goblin. As its severed head went flying, the spurting blood from its neck spattered Linwyn’s face. She laughed and threw herself at the next opponent.
Time lost all meaning. Linwyn’s world narrowed to finding and killing the next dark creature in her path. She danced on the edge of control. At times, she even struck out at her own warriors when they tried to get between her and her kill. From a distance, she heard someone singing a battle song. She realized the voice was hers.
Someone on a horse rode in front of her, blocking her path. She shrieked in fury, striking out with her sword. Her blow was blocked.
“Linwyn!” The voice seemed far away. “Linwyn, it’s Golaron. We have to leave!” Linwyn growled and tried to strike again. She wasn’t going anywhere. Again, her blow was blocked.
“Linwyn, we have to help Iarion!”
Linwyn shook her head, trying to clear it. Iarion. That name seemed to penetrate the fog that surrounded her.
“Iarion needs us!” The familiar voice pressed its advantage. “We must leave now.”
Linwyn felt as if she had been doused with cold water. She saw her surroundings, as though for the first time. Her brother was before her, his sword held up against hers. She allowed her arm to fall to her side. It suddenly felt heavy with exhaustion. She had lost herself in the battle and had almost killed her twin.
“Golaron, I—”
“Don’t worry about it. We have to get out of here! The Forsworn did not come.”
Linwyn felt a cold ball of fear in the pit of her stomach. He was right. She would have known if any Forsworn Ones were near. Saviadro’s creatures had remained in the camp, just as they had feared.
“Iarion!” She gasped his name like a curse and forced her mount through the press of bodies.
The other two groups of allied warriors pressed the dark creatures from both sides. At least that part of their plan was working. It was slow going at first trying to break free to open ground. The long grass was a flattened, bloody muck beneath their horse’s hooves.
Linwyn began to swing her sword once more, but this time it was to clear a path. They had to get to Iarion. Her urgency pushed all other thoughts aside. Golaron, Silvaranwyn, and Lysandir followed in her wake. Golaron rode close to Silvaranwyn, blocking any attacks that came her way.
Time slowed. Finally, there was nothing left between them and the enemy camp. Linwyn urged her mare onward, leading the way. She didn’t bother to look back to see whether the others still followed. Iarion was out there.
The dark army’s camp was nearly empty. When a Darkling Man came to challenge them, Linwyn cut him down before he could speak. Her eyes darted, searching for signs of Iarion. Her heart hammered in her chest.
A flicker of movement caught her eye. Shadows, running toward the forest. A familiar sense of dread washed over her. Four Forsworn Ones followed where the
shadows had gone.
The thought of the Forsworn capturing Iarion overrode Linwyn’s fear. She rode straight toward them. In the distance, she heard Golaron calling her name. She ignored him.
Her world had narrowed to one goal. She leaned over her mare’s neck, urging her on. Almost there…
She threw herself at the nearest of the Forsworn with a cry of despair. They tumbled to the ground in a heap. The withered grass crunched beneath them.
Both of them rolled to their feet. The creature recoiled, surprised by Linwyn’s boldness. She pressed her advantage and attacked the others, but her sword seemed to do no harm. It did keep them occupied. They circled her, their aura of despair mounting. It didn’t matter. As long as she drew breath, she would fight them if it gave Iarion the chance he needed. She stared down her deepest fear.
Linwyn’s blade burst into flame. She almost dropped it in surprise, but the hilt was cool in her hands.
The Forsworn stepped back.
“Thank you, Lysandir.”
She struck out at the nearest of the creatures, setting its robes ablaze. It voiced a gut-wrenching shriek. Linwyn dropped her sword to cover her ears. Its cry seemed to cut into her very soul.
Pushing past the pain, she realized Silvaranwyn and Golaron were on their knees beside her, clutching their own ears. Lysandir stood behind them. Their horses had fled the horrible sound. The remaining dark creatures in the camp began to move in, their weapons drawn.
“Your fire may wound us, Lysandir,” one of the Forsworn hissed from beneath its hood, “but you cannot kill us. It is finished.” Although she knew it spoke the Black Tongue, Linwyn found herself understanding. Her captivity at Nal Nungalid had changed her in many ways.
“We shall see.” Lysandir’s voice was calm.
The wounded Forsworn One stopped its terrible screaming and disappeared into the shadows. The dark creatures moved closer while the remaining three Forsworn Ones watched. Linwyn closed her eyes and accepted the inevitable. She had nothing left to give. A numbness fell over her.
A strange gurgling sound caused her to open her eyes. There was a thump as a goblin fell dead at her side with an arrow in its throat. She frowned in confusion, along with the other dark creatures. The air was suddenly thick with arrows coming from the trees. Dark creatures fell dead all around her.
“It looks like your message got through, Silvaranwyn,” Lysandir said. So that was what they had been up to.
“You have killed only fodder,” one of the Forsworn said. “You still have to get through us.”
“Why are they even bothering with us?” Golaron whispered. “Why don’t they go after Iarion?”
“They do not have the power to get past the Linadar’s shields without their master,” Lysandir said. “I also believe they are trying to distract us until Saviadro arrives.”
The Learnéd One looked up at the Forsworn. “Enough of your games. Let us pass.”
“I told you, Tremblash, it is over.” The Forsworn One’s voice was cold.
“Very well.” Lysandir shrugged.
From somewhere nearby, Linwyn could hear Elvish chanting. It was coming from inside the forest. The Forsworn drew near. Linwyn felt herself go cold. She tried to take comfort in the ray of sun that warmed her back. Dawn had arrived.
Linwyn frowned and looked up at the sky, realizing the impossibility of what was happening. The large cloud that had loomed overhead, sheltering the dark army, was coming apart. The chanting continued. Linwyn shifted her weight to allow the ray of sun to shine past her and onto the robes of the closest of the Forsworn. She was rewarded with another inhuman shriek.
As the chanting reached its climax, the cloud drifted into nothingness, causing the full light of dawn to fall upon them. Now all three of the remaining Forsworn were shrieking. Smoke rose from their robes. The only shadows lay within the forest, where the Forsworn could not go without their master.
Linwyn watched, mesmerized, until Golaron tugged on her arm and helped her to her feet. In the distance, a horn was blowing. The sound shook her to the marrow, filling her with a fresh wave of dread. Black specks flew in the sky to the north, traveling against the wind under their own shroud of darkness.
She turned to meet Lysandir’s silver eyes. He shouted only one word.
“Run!”
– Chapter Forty-Nine –
The Tide Turns
Iarion and Barlo ran for the shelter of the forest. Iarion could make out the shapes of archers in the trees. A terrible scream split the air. He didn’t dare look back.
Beside him, Barlo yanked at the thong that held the tusks around his neck, throwing them to the ground as he ran. They would be of no further use now.
Iarion heard elven voices raised in a chant. The words were muffled by the distance. Although he could not understand them, he heard them reach some sort of climax. What did it mean?
Light burst across the sky overhead. The sudden appearance of the rising sun caused Iarion’s eyes to water. Something had happened to the cloud he and Barlo had seen hovering over the dark army’s camp. More piercing screams followed. The sense of dread he had felt from the Forsworn seemed to lessen.
The forest drew near. Iarion sprinted the rest of the distance, pulling Barlo along with him. Sinstari loped at his side. As they passed under the shadows of the trees, a Linadain stepped in front of them, holding his bow ready. It was aimed at Iarion’s throat. Iarion and Barlo came to a sudden stop, panting.
“What manner of creature are you?” the elf demanded in Elvish. His golden eyes narrowed as he took in Iarion and Barlo’s appearance.
Iarion raised his empty hands before slowly removing his helm. He ripped the tattered goblin clothing from his body, revealing his elven attire underneath. He used the grimy shirt to wipe the remaining green mud from his face and limbs.
“I am Iarion,” he said in the same language. No dark creature would ever speak in the Elven Tongue. “These are my friends, Barlo and Sinstari.” Barlo was also shedding his disguise, wasting no time replacing it with armor from his pack. The Light Elf’s eyes widened.
“I have returned with the Stariquenya,” Iarion continued. “We had to disguise ourselves to get through the enemy camp.”
The elf lowered his bow. “I have been instructed to allow you to pass should you return. Where is the Lady Silvaranwyn? I was told to watch for her as well.”
“We became separated in the northlands. We do not know where she is.”
A sad expression flashed across the elf’s features. “You must run for Eraquenya. The lord and lady hold the glade. We have managed to dispel the cloud that gave shelter to the dark creatures, but you do not have much time. The Fallen One is coming.” Iarion felt a silent dread building within him at the elf’s words, like a storm on the horizon.
The elf’s golden eyes suddenly grew wide. “He comes now. You must flee!”
Iarion didn’t need to be told again. He grabbed Barlo’s arm and yanked him along behind him, ignoring his curses of protest.
“Hey! You don’t need to do that. You had time for a nice little chat and now you’re in a rush. What did he say?” Barlo pulled his arm free to trot alongside him.
Above them the sky grew dark once more. Iarion felt as though he had walked off the edge of a cliff to be plunged into the heart of despair. He stumbled and fell. He rolled for a moment before skidding to a stop. From what seemed like a long distance, he heard Barlo’s groan of comprehension, followed by some rustling and a thump.
Iarion could feel blades of grass under his hands, but his vision had gone completely black. He knew his eyes were open, but they could not penetrate this darkness. He felt himself start to tremble.
It was over. It had been hopeless from the start. He had been a fool. Now he was leaving hope behind, forever. Such a waste. He felt cold, devoid of any emotion but anguish. If he could somehow gain control of his shaking hands and find his knife in the darkness, he would end this torment.
Something coo
l and moist brushed the back of his hand. Whiskers tickled his face. It was Sinstari. Iarion pushed the cat away, but he only returned. Iarion could just make out his green eyes.
Something stirred within him. He was so close… If he gave up now, he might never know the joy of communing with the Quenya, and Lasniniar as he knew it would be no more. His soul would be forever lost. People had given their lives to help him succeed. They were counting on him. He was their only hope. No matter what, he had to go on.
Iarion forced himself to his knees. Sinstari sat before him. His green eyes were all Iarion could see. Iarion forced himself to focus on those twin beacons of light. He slowed his breathing and stopped his trembling. Warmth returned to his body, suffusing his limbs. As he gazed into the cat’s eyes, the darkness around him faded until he could see the trees once more. The sky was dark and the shadows long, but he was still in the world of the living.
Barlo lay on the ground in a daze. Iarion shook him, calling his name. The dwarf was ice-cold to the touch. Sinstari leaned over him, snuffling his face for several moments. Finally, Barlo sat up, pushing the cat away.
“Get off me, you foolish beast!”
Iarion helped his friend to his feet. When they had fallen, they had landed deep in some bushes. Iarion froze. Something was wrong. Outside the bushes, the ground was heavily trampled. The foul stench of dark creatures lingered in the air.
The borders of Melaquenya had been breached. Saviadro’s presence had overwhelmed the Linadar. Iarion saw the corpse of a Light Elf, surrounded by dead goblins and a few ogres. His golden eyes had gone dull and seemed almost defiled by the presence of death. Iarion couldn’t help but be reminded of Silvaranwyn.
The broken body of a winged Sintadain lay nearby. Iarion’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. If the other elves had been incapacitated like Iarion and Barlo, the invasion would have been slaughter. It was only luck that had caused him and Barlo to land in the bushes, where they had gone unnoticed. He checked his pack to reassure himself. The Levniquenya was still there.
Soul Seeker (The World of Lasniniar Book 1) Page 36